The weekly times-record., 1914-12-24
BY FRANK FILsoN.

knowledge Of it in his own soul until
the day Of discovery. |
Love comes Unexpectedly enough.
and Barton's soul was torn in twain
after Lucy had promised to be his
wife. Yet, fight as he might, he could
not withstand the prompting of that
impulse within. He had given rein
to it too long.
He had a months vacation every
summer. That would be ample time
in which to set his purpose, though
his plan would not come to full frui-
tion for two or three months longer:
However, it was only necessary to,
start, and, automatically, the train
that he Aad fired would smolder until,
without Intervention upon his part,
the ripe fruits of his enterprise be-
came manifest.
Barton had rented little furnished
cottage in remote region Of the
Adirondacks, where his only neigh
bors were a few woodmen.
He made some miserable excuse to-
Lucy to cover his absence for so long
q period, and disappeared from the
haunts of his friends. And, the even
ing after his departure from the Grand
Central station found him in the little
cottage, alone, staring out moodily
across the lake.
The clay.colored chemical which
was so essential feature of his de-
sign stood on the little bare table
in the room which he had selected for
his operations.
He had the formula calculated to a
nicely. All that was necessary was
time for the chemical combinations to
become permanent and to produce
their rich crop of results. The expert
ment had been performed many times
since man emerged from barbarism,
but less and less often as he became
enlightened, and of recent years so
seldom that its very infrequency was
John Barton's greatest asset of safety.
It was on the fifth morning after his
arrival that he received letter from
Lucy.
my dearest John," she wrote, Il
am becoming very uneasy about your
going up to that out-of-the.way place
In the Adirondacks, where you are
all by yourself. Mother wants you to
come back at once and spend the rest
of the month with us at Atlantic
Beach.
Il am greatly concerned about you,
dear, and unless you write me that
you are coming on the next train,
shall begin to think you do not love
me-"
The sight Of Lucy's delicate hand.
writing brought back to him with
rush all the memory of their love.
How fond they had been of each 9th.
er! How the knowledge that she
loved him had temporarily driven the
thought Of his purpose out Of his
mind. And how miserably he had
striven to avoid that insistent tempta.
ton that came knocking at his heart!
But the experiment was under way,
and, more, 1t was succeeding. There
was no doubt of that. Science was in.
fallible. and her laws absolute. And
he had used only a tenth part Of the
clay-colored chemical, with it's faint
aromatic smell, so subtle an agent
In his great task, and yet apparently
80 innOcuOus.
John answered Lucy's letter, excus
ing himself on the ground that he
needed perfect rest, and remained in
his cottage. ..r ....
Then the day Of decision dawned
There was letter from Lucy. John
could hardly steady his fingers to
tear it open.
my dear John,'' it began, "since re-
ceiving your last letter I have felt
very much hurt at your refusal to
spend your holiday with us. hoped
that you would write again, and !
have waited every day to hear from
you. I was too proud TO answer you.
"But now, dear John, have come
" tuO COACluoAOu IAot yOu COUAu AOS
have treated me thus unless some.
thing serious we're the matter. And
90 mother and I are coming up to
Cranberry Lake to see you. We shall
start tomorrow, and the day after you
receive this, we shall be at your sta
tion. I hope you will meet us there,
John. and remove my suspense-and
mothers"
And now the die was cast, and the
mans struggle between love and the
dreadful task to which he had set him.
self was renewed more acutely than
ever. None can know what mental
struggle he endured during the rest
of that day. For, If he destroyed the
results Of his experiment he knew
that he could not nerve himself to be-
gin anew.
But the thought of Lucy conquered.
As the gray dawn came stealing into
his room, after sleepless night, John
emptied the clay-colored fluid out Of
the window. Then, taking a razor
from the bottom of his bag, desper.
ately, wildly, hs shaved OF his mus
tachA