Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1914-03-11

up mere ana write what L nnd. NO
more shots in the night. Just the adj
venture of soul and soul. Do you see:
BY the way, here's $50. your first
weeks pay as caretaker OF New
York Quixote."
whats that:" asked ouimby.
"Ouixote." explained Mr.. Magee.
"was a Spanish lad who was little
confused in his mind and went about
the country putting up at summer re-
sorts in midwinter."
I'D expect it of a Spa niard," Quinn
by said. BE careful of that fire. I'll
be up in, the morning" He slowed
away the bill Mr.. Magee had given
him. st guess nothing will interiors
with your consequences. Leastways l
hope it won't Good night
Mr.. Magee babe the man good night
and listened to the thump of his boots
and the closing of the great front
door. From his windows he watched
the caretaker move down the road
without looking back. to disappear at
last in the white night.
Throwing of his great coat, Mr.. Ma
gee noisily attacked the fire. The
blaze f1ared red on his strong, humor-
GUS mouth, in his smiling eyes. Next.
in the Pickering half light of suit Z
he distributed the contents of his trav-
cling bags about. On the table he
placed a number of new magazines
and a few books.
Then Mr.. Magee sat down in the big
leather chair before the fire and caught
his breath.
Yes, here he was, and here was the
solitude he had come to find. Mr.. Ma
gee looked nervously about, and the
smile died out of his gray eyes. For
the first time misgivings smote him.
Might one not have too much of
good thing? A silence like that OF the
tomb had descended. He recalled sto-
ries of men who went mad from lone
Illness What place lonelier than this?
The wind howled along the balcony; 1t
ratified the windows. Outside his door
Law a great black cave. in summer-gay
with men and maids. now ike Cru
soe's island before the old man landed.
"Alone, alone; all, all alone" quoted
Mr.. Magee IF can't think here it
will be because I'm not equipped with
the apparatus. 1 will. I'll show the
gloomy old critics! 1 wonder what's
doing in New York;"
New York, Mr. Magee looked at his
watch. Eight O'Clock. The great street
was ablaze. The crowds were parad-
ing from the restaurants to the thea
tiers. The electric signs were pasting
Iurid legends ON long suffering sky;
the taxis were spraying throats with
gasoline; the traffic cop at Broadway
and Forty-second street was madly
earning his pay. Mr.. Magee got up
and walked the floor. New York!
Probably the telephone in his rooms
was jangiing, vainly calling forth to
sport with Amaryllis in the shade of
the rubber trees Billy Magee-Billy
Magee who sat alone in the silence on
Baldpate mountain. Few knew Of his
departure. This was the night of that
stupid attempt at theatricals at the
Plaza, stupid in itself, but gay, almost
giddy, since Helen Faulkner was to be
there. This was the night of the din
ner to Carey at the club. This was the
night-of many diverting things.
He strode to the window and looked
down at the few dim lights that pro-
claimed the existence of Upper Asque
wan Falls. Somewhere down there
was the Commercial House; some
where the girl who had wept so bit
terry in that gloomy little waiting
room. She was only three miles away.
and the thought cheered Mr.. Magee.
After all, he was not on desert is
land.
And yet he was alone. intensely, al
most painfully. alone-alone in a vast
moaning house that must be his only
home until he could go back to the gay
city with his masterpiece. What
masterpiece. AS though with sur
geon's knife 1T would lay bare the
hearts of men. No tricks of plot. no.
.ro be Continued Next Saturday,