Pine Bluff daily graphic., 1914-10-02
Copyright, 1914, by Charles Scribner's Sohs)
 CHAPTER XIV.
In FelIer's Place.

W What am l about to do? shot as forked shadows over the hot lava-fow of Mar ta's impulse The vitality that Wester- ling had felt by suggestion from still profile rejoiced in quickening of pace directly she was out of sight of the veranda All the thinking she had done that afternoon had been i'll pie lures; some saying. some cry, some, groan, or some smile went with every picture.
 The sitting-room of the tower was empty to other eyes but not to hers. The lantern was in the corner at hand. After her hastening steps had carried her along the tunnel to the telephone, she set down the lantern and pressed the spring that opened the panel door. Another moment and sLe would be em- parked on her great adventure in the finality of action. That little ear-piece became a specter of conscience. She drew back convulsively and her hands flew to her face; she was rocking shadow in the thin, reddish light of the lantern.
 Conscious mind had torn off the mask from subconscious mind, reveal ing the true nature of the change that war had wrought in her. She who had resented Feller's part-what part she had been playing! Every word, every shade of expression, every tell ing pause of abstraction after Wester- ling confessed that he had made war for his own ends had been subtly prompted by purpose whose actuality terrified her.
 Her hypocrisy, she realized, was as black as the wall of darkness beyond the lanterns gleam. Then this demor- alization passed, as nightmare passes, with Westerling's boast again in her ears.
 When wars principles, enacted by men, were based on sinister trickery called strategy and tactics, should not women, using such weapons as they had, also fight for their homes? Mar ta's hands swept down from her eyes; she was on fire with resolution.
 Forty miles away bell i'll Lan- strons bedroom and at his desk rang simultaneously. At the time he and Partow were seated facing each other across map on the table of the room where they worked together. No per suasion of the young vice-chief, no edict of the doctors, could make the old chief take exercise or shorten his hours
 T know. know myself!" he said q know my duty. And you are learn ing, my boy. learning!"
 Every day the flabby cheeks grew pastier and the pouches under the eye brows heavier. But there was no dimming of the eagle flashes of the eyes, no weakening of the will. Last night Lanstron had turned as white as chalk when Partow staggered on rising from the table, the veins on his temples knotted blue whip-cords. Yet after few hours sleep he reappeared with firm step, fresh for the fray
 The paraphernalia around these two was the same as that around Wester- ling. Only the atmosphere of the staff was different Each man was perform ing the part set for him. No man knew much of any other mans part. Partow alone knew all, and Lanstron was try ing to grasp all and praying that Par ,tow's old body should still feed his mind with energy. Lanstron was thin- ner and paler, a new and glittering ln- tensity in his eyes.
 When word of Feller's defection came, Lanstron realized for the first time by Partow's manner that the old chief of staff, with all his deprecation of the telephone scheme as chimerical, had grounded hope on it.
 "There was the chance that we might know-so vital to the defense what they were going to do before and not after the attack" he said.
 Yet the story of how Teller yielded to the temptation of the automatic had made the nostrils of the old war-horse quiyer with dramatic breath, and in. stead of the command of a battery of guns, which Lanstron had promised, the chief made it battalion. He had drawn down his brows when he heard
 
 that Marta had asked that the wire be left intact; he had shot shrewd, questioning glance at Lanstron and then beat a tattoo on the table and half grinned as he grumbled under his breath:
 She is afraid of being lonesome! No harm donem
 A week had passed since the Grays had taken the Galland house, and still no word from Marta. The ring of the bell brought Lanstron to his feet with startled, boyish bound.
 Very springy, that tendon of Achilles!" muttered Partow. And z my boy. take care. take care!" he called suddenly in his sonorous voice as vast and billowy as his body.
 It was Martas voice and yet not Marta's. this voice that beat in nerv-