Evening star., 1914-04-12

Wlleh l see IT, Now nike on 70 bed. m
all in"
You poor old Dad. l worry you to
death" She threw her lovely arms about
his neck and kissed him.
We'll, you re worth it. Kitty, I've had a
jolt tonight. You marry whom you blame
please. I've been doing some tall thinking.
Make your own romance,-Duke or dry
goods clerk. You'd never hook up with any
thing that WASH t man. You're Irish. Ii he
happens to be made, all well and good if
not-why, I'll undertake to make him.
And that's bargain. | don't want any
alimony money in the Killigrew family
She kissed him again and went into her
bedroom. Kind hearted impulsive old Dad.
In weeks time he would forget all about
this heart-to-heart talk, and shoe away
every male who hadn't title or million,
or wasn't due to fall heir to one or the other.
Nevertheless, she had long since made up
her mind to build her own romance That
was her right, and she did not intend to
surrender it to anybody Her weary head on
the pillow, she thought of the voices in the
fog. "a wager's a wager!'
THE next morning the fog was not quite
= so thick that is, in places there were
and torso; but neither hat nor legs. Again,
J
no horse: phantasmally
Breakfast in Crawford's suite was merry
enough Misfortune was turned into jest.
| At least, they made fine show of it, which
is characteristic of people who bow to the
inevitable whenever confronted by it.
Crawford was passing his cigars, when a
page was announced. The boy carried
| tray upon which reposed a small package.
"By special messenger, Sir. 1t was
thought you might be liking to have it at
once, Sir. The page pocketed the shilling
politely and departed.
@That's the first bit of live work I've seen
| anybody do in this hotel" commented Kill
| igrew, striking a match.
Il have stopped here often," said Craw-
| ford, "and they are familiar with my wishes.
Excuse me till see what it is"
The quartet at the table began chatting
again, about the fog, what they intended
doing in Paris, sunshiny Paris. BY and by
Crawford came over quietly and laid some
thing on the table before his wife's plate.
1t was Mana Sahib's ruby, so called.
CHAPTER III.
THAT same morning, at eleven precisely,
= when an insolent west wind sprang up
and tore the fog into ribbons and scarfs and
finally blew it into Smithereens, Channel
ward, there stood before the windows of
famous haberdashery in the Strand young
man, twenty-four years old, typically En-
glish, beardless, hair clipped neatly about
his neck and temples, his skin fresh colored,
his body carefully but thriftily clothed.
Smooth skinned he was about the eyes and
mouth, unmarked by dissipation, and he
stood straight, and by the set of his shoul-
ders (not particularly deep or wide) you
would infer that when he looked at you he
would look straight. Pity, isn't it, that you
never really can tell what man is inside by
drawing up your brief of what he is outside?
There is always the heel of Achilles some
where-trust the devil to find that.
Of course you wish to know forthwith who
! returned the ruby, and why. AS our states
men say regarding any important measure
for public welfare, the time is not yet ripe.
Besides, the young man l am describing had
never heard of the Mana Sahib's ruby, un-
less vaguely in some Sepoy Mutiny tale.
His expression at this moment was rather
mournful. He was regretting the thirty
shillings week he had for several years
drawn regularly in this shop. Inside there
he had introduced the Raglan skirt. the
Duke of Westminster four-in -ha7.d, and the
Churchill bat-wing collar. lie longed to
enter and plead for reinstatement; but his
new-found pride refused to bulge his legs
doorward. Thirty shilings-twelve for his
"third floor back" and the rest for clothes