The review. [volume] (High Point, N.C.) 1908-19??, 1915-10-14

star-l1t moor, little ancient trees grow
ing very close together, a Istrong per-
fume of bayberry bushes, of sweet
fern and roses, and then the low
ceilinged, softly lighted hall, with
many menservants, cool, delightful
night, soundly slept-these were &C.
lestia's first impression of Gull Island.
In the morning she went with her
husband to the eastern cliffs, and
she had her first look at the ocean
sullenly tumbling, white-maned-un-
der gray and sullen sky.
. .
Soon after Tommy's departure, and
before the triumvirate could complete
their arrangements for the retreat to
Cults Island. the streets contiguous
to Gordon Barclays house and the
streets in the neighborhood began to
fill with men and women who looked
like the dregs of the city.
But it was Immediately in front of
the house that the crowd was thick
est and most menacing.
There was no actual violence until
Gunsdorf arrived. He, high above the
crowd on an improvised rostrum,
roared for blood and vengeance.
Weapons began to fash.
Then the police tried to dispense the
mob, and, after hard fighting and
the breaking of many heads, were
aside. Then the crowd began to swarm
over the tall iron gates and the spiked
iron fence.
There was a fountain-a bronze
youth, arms akimbo, who with pulled
cheeks blew a fine spray Of water. Him
certain stray violent men pried from
his base, and used, swinging him by
the feet and arms, to batter down
the solid, heavy front door of the
house.
This done, the leaders rushed in,
and for q moment were halted by the
incorporating dignity and gran
deur of the hall. Facing them was a
| flight of marble steps. At the top Of
these stood Gordon Barclay. When
| the crowd recognized him they yelled
| like a pack of wolves. The corners
| Of his mouth twitched with a kind of
CLASSY contempt. He turned slowly
| and passed through doorway that
was just behind him, slammed the
| door shut and locked it. Not till then
| did he show q sign of fear or haste.
Now, however, he ran swiftly through
| the library, out at the other end,
and down q back stair to the service
courtyard. Here, headed for tall
| wooden gates in tall brick wall over
which wisteria was festoOned, stood
powerful limousine car. The en-
| CINE was purring. On the box sat two
brave and handsome young men of the
Barclay livery. In the body Of the
car sat Semmes and Sturtevant. Stur-
| tevant looked furiously angry. Semmes
looked seasick.
At the gates stood two footmen ready
to fling them open. Most OF the
crowd was at the front of the house.
Meanwhile the bronze boy Of the
fountain came up the front stair, bat
tered head first, and was used to ram
down the door behind which Barclay
had been seen to disappear.
The first man to enter the long, rich
library was Gunsdorf. He gave only
a glance at the open panel which dis
closed the inviting interior of safe,
or at the greenbacks and yellowbacks
of all denominations which the willy
financier had scattered about the
room. on tables, on chairs, on the
fioor-such things were for children.
Raging for his comrades to follow
him. Gunsdorf rushed the length Of the
room, found the back stair down which
Barclay had retreated, and came in
less time than it takes to tell it to
the service court at the back OF the
house.
But nobody followed Gunsdorf. The
open safe, the scattered bills, stopped
men as a solid cliff might have done.
Vengeance was forgotten, and the
crowd began to loot.
When Gunsdorf reached the court
yard the gates were half open. On
strong steel brackets fixed to the
back of the car were two spare rims,
with inflated tires. These formed a
resting place for Gunsdorfs feet and
a grip for his hands. But the first
forward leap OF the car, followed by
q hair-raising swerve to the left, al
most threw him OF.
Shots were fired. The car went over
something soft that screamed, and
that remained in the street after the
car had passed and thwacked like
newly landed fish.
Gunsdorf stood upon the spare tires
and chung to them and the lights OF
New York whirled by.
The scene Of the riot was far be-
hind. Up Fifth avenue the car raced.
It was that hour before dark when
the summer traffic was light, and the
face of the great Gordon Barclay at
the window of the car was enough to
make even the boldest traffic cop
think twice.
Through Central park, out Seventh
avenue, across McComb's dam bridge,