Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1915-08-02

Miss Columbia Was Leading the
Dance and Joy Reigned Uneon.
fined.
CLANS All the music had a patriotic
Tilt; all the guests carried tiny Ameri-
can flags, and the prettiest girl in
town. dressed as Miss Columbia, was
leading the dance. Joy reigned un-
confined.
And then the shot.
The sound seemed to come from q
chamber to the right OF the ballroom,
and the startled dancers, gazing in that
direction, saw a tiny wisp of smoke
uncurl itself from the rich portieres
and watt gently towards the ceiling.
One, more bold than the rest, strode
towards the door and threw aside the
heavy hangings. And the tableau that
was there revealed offered food for
several hundred late supper discus
sions and gave the busy gossips of So
ciety many dainty morsel.
The room was, strictly speaking, a
den, richly furnished and not very
large. Across a table in the center,
brushed aside, sprawled the inert
body of Edgar Clay, society leader,
business man, good sport, hard
drinker, and the husband OF Isabel
Clay, prettiest butterfly of them all.
Standing over him in a protecting at
titude, the smoking revolver still in
his hand. was his business partner
and father-in-law, Russell Irwi2. Hate
cleaned from a pair of narrowed
eyes; beady, steady eyes that never
wavered from those of Horace Stone,
attorney, who. pale as death, stared
back at Irwin from across the table.
At Stones feet lay a shattered de-
canter, the contents of which ran over
the rich rug in tiny rivulets strongly
suggesting blood to the excited minds
of the eager spectators. But Stone
was grasping his right hand with his
left, and the trickle of red that
oozed between his fingers told only
too plainly where the bullet had
found its mark.
"Oh, Edgar, Edgar are you dead?"
From the surge of figures at the
door. one fair form detached itself
and hurled its length across the limp
and sagging body of Clay on the
table. With trembling hands she
raised his head, and with choking
sobs planted a fearful kiss on his un-
responsive lips. Anguish and relief
and disgust struggled for the mastery
of her features as she read the an
swer to her question in the kiss. Clay
was not dead. He had yielded again
to habit that was stronger than
himself.
And may I ask the meaning of
this ill-bred disturbance
Mrs. Van Lind was speaking and
the tone was cold, incisive, uncom-
promising.
Erwin nodded grimly towards
Stone. And those who watched him
closely noted that he held his weapon
in a firmer grip.
Haughtily the hostess turned her
icy, questioning stare in the wounded
mans direction.
For a moment he hesitated Then
his eyes wavered under the steady
lenly:
at was an accident"
Avoiding the glances of those who
would have questioned him; ignoring
the advances of those who offered
sympathy, Stone elbowed his way
through the excited throng at the den
door and left the house. And SO the
incident was ended. But it is not with
the incident so much, as with the
happenings which lead up to it that
our story has to do; story that deals
with the lives of men and women you
see around you every day-men and
and reap the fruit thereof.
CHAPTER ONE.
Folly was a constant guest at the
home of Edgar Clay and his pretty
wife, Isabelle. Folly was the boon
companion of this young society
couple. Reared in luxury and know
Ing no restraint except that imposed
by their own desires they had gone
the pace that has but one ending; had
along the road that leads but
TO disaster-disaster that is the more
complete the longer 1t is delayed. That
they drifted farther and farther apart
was but natural for Folly was always
there to see that both persisted in the
wilful pursuit of individual enjoyment
And so the Saturday morning on
which our story opens, found them
dangerously near to the parting of the
ways.
Clay. young. good looking. but with
The marks of dissipation already show
ng on his otherwise boyish features,
was in no mood for trifling that morn
ng. The cares of business weighed
heavily upon him. Junior member of
he real estate firm Of Irwin & Clay. no
realized that the house of which his
Russell Irwin, was head,
'aced financial ruin because of his ex-
ravagances and recklessness. The
hrobbing in his temples an9the rack
ng reminders of last nights wild
line in no wise improved his temper,
Is he slowly picked at the breakfast
hat has been served in his room.
Has his lordship a new crown this
morning." smiled Isabelle as she came
nto the chamber unannounced and
almost unheard.
With slightly forced laugh, she
pointed to the wet towel that he had
bound around his aching head
Or is 1t some new style of head. !
gear made fashionable by the war7"
,he persisted.
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