Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1915-10-25
BOOK II.
CHAPTER XLI-(Continued).

AND, as / went, | presently espied
"A caravan, and before Il iire Of sticks.
above which a man was bending, who,
raising his head, stared at me as APP
preached. lie was a strange looking man,
who glared at me with one eye and ieered
loosely with the other; and, being spent
and short OF breath, stopped, and wip-
ing the sweat from my eyes | saw that
It was blood
"How--ls Lewis2" ( painted.
What" exclaimed the man, drawing
nearer, 'is Il you?-Jamesl but you're
picter, you are-hallol" he stopped, as his
glance encountered the steel that glittered
upon my wrist; while upon the silence
the shouts swelled. drawing near and
nearer.
"so-the Runners is arter you, are they.
young feller?"
YES said |: "yes. You have only to
cry out, and they will take me, for | can
fight no more. nor run any farther; this
knock on the head has made me very
dizzy."
"Then-tuke a pull at this ere" said
he, and thrust a fat bottle into my hand
The fiery spirit burned my throat, but
almost Immediately my strength and
courage revived.
Better"
the bottle ''and I thank you"
Don't go for to thank me, young fell
er," said he driving the cork into the
bottle with blow of his fist, you thank
that young TELLER as once done as much
for meat a Fair. An now-cut away
run!-the edge Is good and dark, up yon-
der-llay low bit and leave these
damned Runners to me-" I obeyed with
out more ado, and, as 1 ran up the lane,
| heard him shouting and swearing as
though engaged in a desperate encounter;
and, turning in the shadow of the hedSe,
! saw him met by two men, with whom,
still shouting and gesticulating eXcitedly.
he set Off, running-down the lane.
And so (, once more turned my face
| London-ward
| The blood still flowed from the cut in
! my head, getting often into my eyes, yet
! / made good progress Notwithstanding
But, little by little, the effect Of the
| spirits wore off, drowsiness stole over
me. my limbs felt numbed and heavy,
| And with this came strange fancies and
| a dread of the dark. Sometimes II seemed
| that odd lights danced before my eyes,
| like marsh-fres, and strange voices gao
! bled I'm my ears, furiously unintelligble,
| with laughter in a high pitched key;
sometimes | cast myself down in the
dewy grass. only to start up again, treln-
! bling, an1 run on till | was breathleso;
but ever / struggled forward. despite the
throbbing of my broken head and the
gnawing hunger that consumed me.
After a while a mist came on, a mist
that formed itself into deep valleys. or
rose in jagged spires and pinnacles, but
| constantly changing: a mist that moved
and writhed within itself. And in this
mist were forms, nehulous and indstinct,
multitudes that moved in time with me,
and the voices seemed louder than before,
and the laughter much shriller. while re-
| TOD ataI In I gphf hat
awful word; MURDER, MURDER.
Chief among this host walked one whose
head and face were muffed from my
sight, but who watched me, l knew,
through the folds. with eyes that stared
fixed and wide.
But now indeed. the mist seemed to
have got into my brain, and all things
were hazy, and my memory of them is
dim.
Yet l recall passing Bromley village,
and sinking furtivey through the
shadows of the deserted High street, but
thereafter all is blank save memory
of pain and toll and deadly fatigue
l was stumbling up steps-the steps OF
a terrace; a great house lay before me,
with lighted windows here and there, but
these l feared, and so came creeping 70
one that / knew well, and whose dark
panes glittered palely under the dying
moon. And now I took out my clasp
| hnlLSs anu, luIuDllDB DllHuly, put DdNh
the catch (as / had often done as q
boy), and so, the window opening,
clambered into the dimness beyond.
Now as l stumbled forward my hand
touched something, a long, dark object
that was covered with a cloth, and, hard
ly knowing what 1 did, l drew back this
cloth and looked down at that which II
had covered, and sank down upon my
knees, groaning For there, staring up
at me, cold, contemptuous, and set like
marble was the smiling, dead face of my
cousin Maurice
AS l knelt there. / was conscious that
the door had opened, that some one ap-
preached. bearing light. but I did not
move or heed.
"Peter?-good God in heaven!-is 1t
Peter?" 1 looked up and into the dilated
eyes of Sir Richard. us 1t really Peter?'
he whispered.
"Yes, sir-dying. 1 think"
mo. no-Peter-dear boy" he stam-
mered. "You didn't know-you hadn't
heard-poor Maurice-murdered - fellow
name of Smith,
Yes, Sir Richard, l know more about
it than most. You see, 1 am Peter Smith"
Sir Richard fell back from me, and l saw
the candle swaying in his grasp.
"You:" he whispered. you? oh. Peterl
oh. my boy"'
But / am innocent-innocent-yo be-
leve me-you who were my earliest
friend-my good, kind friend-you believe
me?" and / stretched out my hands ap-
pealingly, but, as / did so the light fell
cleaning upon my shameful wristlets;
and even as we gazed into each others
eyes, mute and breathless, came the sound
Of steps and hushed voices. Sir Richard
sprang forward, and, catching me In a
powerful hand. half led. half dragged
me behind a tall leather screen beside
the hearth, and thrustiLg me into a chair.
turned and hurried to meet the in
truders.
They were three, as / soon discovered
by their voices, one OF which / thought
/ recognized.
Its a devilish shame?' the first was
saying; mot soul here for the funeral
but our four selves-I say it's a shame
a burning shamer'
That. sir, depends entirely on the point
OF view" answered the second, a some-
what aggressive voice, and this II was l
seemed to recognize.
Point of view, sir? Where. 1 should
like TO know, are all those smiling
nonentties-those fawning sycophants
who were once so proud OF his patronage,
/. | who 1paal,, randalsd fhaunealuaa An non him