Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1916-09-29

al Won't Let You Col" She Painted.
me by q later boat. A few days de-
lay won't do any harm. And 1t may
serve to make her see things differ
emily"
Ten minutes later Martel was climb
ing the stairs he had descended half
an hour earlier-the stairs leading to
Elsie's apartment.
Meantime the gizi had gradually re-
covered from her swtx%2. Sitting up,
dazedly, she looked about her in va
cant-eyed amaze. Then she saw the
suitcase and the scattered clothes on
the floor. And, all at once she re-
membered.
Elsie's dilated eyes strayed from the
suitcase to something lying on rug
beside it. Something that glinted
queerly in the lamplight. 1t was Ed
win Marters revolver.
AS though hypnotized by its glitter,
she continued to stare at it. Present
ly her hand went forward, almost
stealthily; and her fingers closed
around the pistol butt. Here, to her
disordered mind, was the full and final
solution of her problem.
Martel had left her. And, in leav-
ing, he had taken away all that made
her life worth living. Perhaps when
he should hear she was dead, he might
be sorry. From the grave she could
sting him with barb of remorse.
This was, his own pistol, too-this
pistol whose muzzle felt so gratefully
cool against her fever-hot flesh.
Elsie let herself play morbidly with
the idea, as a child morbidly bites on
a sore tooth. She knew little Of fire.
arms. But she had heard that If q
trigger were pressed hard enough
She did not know just how hard one
needed to tug, before the pistol would
go off. And, experinentally, she tight
ened her forefnger around the trigger.
There was f1ash-a roar that rever-
berated through the whole loose-doored
apartments pungent smoke cloud
filled the little room.
Mrs. Wigs, half dressed, heard the
report. Flinging long cloak around
her, she dashed down the hall. Out
side Elsie's door she paused. No sound
came from inside. She was about to
turn the knob, when it occurred to
her that Martel, who had doubtless
fired the shot, might very possibly put
a second bullet into her own head
should she break in upon the scene OF
| carnage.
So she fed down the passageway
and down the stairs and out into the
midnight city.
In the studio street, throng OF
| jewellers were making night hideous
with their racket Horns, rattles, con
fetti, 'ticklers," cowbells, ticker-tape
and a dozen other temper-wreckine
devices were in evidence. A mimic
battle had sprung up in the middle OF
| the walk. Groups of bystanders, on
their way to restaurants, had halted
| to laugh at the spectacle. A peg-post
policeman looked on with tolerant
grin.
Suddenly, the policeman drew him
self up and saluted, as a man and a
woman in evening dress paused near
| him to watch the fun. Patrolman
| O'Brien had a good memory for faces
And this man with the slender, fair
haired girl on his arm, was Charles
Morehouse Halloran, the new district
attorney who was to take Office tomor
| row.
Halloran, still new enough to police
Difference to be gratified by it, re-
| turned the salute.
"You see," whispered Margaret, al
ready you're famous. A year ago, that
bluecoat would have ordered you to
move on. Now, he salutes you as II
you were the president.
Perhaps" CALAMITY suggested Hal
loran, "he is saluting the beauty OF
my new secretary. He"
Mrs. Wigs, blowing her way in
flustered manner, through the crowd
flung herself on Patrolman O'Brien.
"Oficer," she squalled. There's
been murder done. back here, not two
| minutes sincei Come quickl"
Murder" repeated O'Brien
Where? who?"