The Daily Ardmoreite. [volume] (Ardmore, Okla.) 1893-current, 1915-02-14
CHAPTER !.


nearest the fireplace, where merry
but unnotced bed Of Goals cracked
fiercely in the vain effort to cry down
the shrieks Of the bleak December
wind that whistled about the corners
of the house.
There was something maddening in
the fact that the envelope would have
to remain unopened until young Fred
erick Brood came home for the night,
They found themselves wondering If
by any chance he would fail to come
In at all Their hour for retiring was
ten o'clock, day in. day out.
Up to halfpast nine they discussed
the blue envelope with every inmate
of the house, from Mrs. John Des-
mond. the housekeeper, down to the
yoiceless but eloquent decanter Of port
that stood between them. first on the
arm Of one chair, then the other. They
were very old men; they could solilo-
quize without in the least disturbing
each other. An observer would say
during these periods of abstraction,
the decanter and that the poor decan-
ter had something to say in return.
But, for all that, their eyes seldom left
the broad. blue envelope that had lain
there since halfpast eight.
They knew that it came directly or
indirectly from the man to whom they
owed their present condition OF COM
fort and security after half century
OF vicissitudes; from the man whose
life they had saved more than once
were so few that they passed without
recognition in the maelstrom of
events. From midocean James Brood
was speaking to his son.
Twenty years ago these two old GRO.
nies had met James Brood in one of
the blackest holes of Calcutta. dere-
lict being swept to perdition with the
swiftness and surencss of tide that
knows no pause. They found him
when the dregs were at his lips, and
the stupor of defeat in his brain.
Without meaning to be considered
Samartans. good or bad they dragged
him from the depths and found that
they had revived a man. Those were
the days when James Brood's life
meant nothing to him, days when he
was tortured by the thought that it
would be all too long for him to en-
dure, yet he was not the kind to muir
der himself as men do who lack the
courage to go on living. y
Weeks after the rescue in Calcutta
these two soldiers of fortune and an
other John Desmond, learned from
the lips of the man himself that he
was not such as they but rich in this
worlds goods, richer than the Solo
mon of their discreet imagination.
What Brood told them of his life
brought the grim smile of appreciation
to the lips of each. He had married a
beautiful foreigner-an Austrian, they
gathered-of excellent family, and mad
taken her to his home in New York
city, to the house in lower Fifth ave
nue. where his father and grandfather
had lived before him-the house In
which two Of the wayfarers after
twenty years, now sat in rueful CON
temptation of blue envelope.
A baby boy came to the Broods in
the second year of their welded life,
but before that there had come
mana music master dreamy-eyed.
handsome, Latin; man who played
upon the harp as only the angels may
play. In his delirious rawlings Brood
cursed this man and the wife he had
stolen away from him; he reviled the
baby boy, even denying him; he
laughed with blood-Curdling glee over
the manner in which he had cast out
the woman who had broken his heart
and crushed his pride: he walled in
anguish over the mistake he had made
I'm allowing the man to live that he
might glOat and sneer in triumph This
much the three men who lifted him
from hell were able to CLEAN from lips
that knew not what they said. and
they were filled with pity. Later on,
In q rational weakness, he told them
more, and without curses A deep.
silent, steadfast bitterness succeeded
the violent rawlings. He became way
farer with them, quiet, logged fatal:
where they went he also went: what
they did, also did he Soon he led, and
they followed Into the dark places
OF the world they plunged, for peril
meant little to him, death even less.
They no longer knew days of priva-
tion-he shared his wealth with them:
but they knew no rest, no peace. no
safety. Life had been whirlwind be-
fore they came upon James Brood: IL
was hurricane afterward.
Twice John Desmond, younger than
Danbury Dawes and Joseph Riggs.
saved the life of James Brood by
acts of unparalleled heroism; once in
a South African jungle when a lion
ess fought for her young, and again
In upper India, when single-handed,
he held of a horde of Hindus for
days while his comrade lay wound
ed in a cavern. Dawes and Riggs,
In the Himalayas, crept down the