The Calhoun chronicle. [volume] (Grantsville, W. Va.) 1883-1984, 1916-10-26
CHAPTER V-continued.

would you know her If you saw
herT
Il don't know" Whitaker frowned
with annoyance "She's six years
older"
'Well, but what was she likeT'
Drummond pursued curiously.
Whitaker shook his head. "It's not
easy to remember. Matter of fact, /
don't believe 1 ever got one good
square look at her. 1t was twilight
in the hotel, when I found her; we
SAT- talking in absolute darkness. to-
ward the end; even In the minister's
study there was only q green-shaded
lamp on the table; and on the train
we'll. we were both TOO much worked
up, fancy, to pay much attention to
details"
Blonde or brunei"
II swear don't know. She wore
one of those funny knitted caps, tight
down over her hair, all the time"
Drummond laughed quietly.
II don't feel in a joking humor,"
Whitaker said roughly. 'Its a serious
matter and wants serious treat
ment . /. What else have we got
to null over?"
Drummond shrugged suavely.
'There's enough to keep us busy for
several hours" he said. "For instance,
there's my stewardship"
"Your which?"
my care of your property. You left
-
lying round loose, you know; naturally
felt obliged to look after 'em. There
was no telling when Widow Whitaker
might walk in and demand an account
ing. / presume we might as well run
over the account-though it is getting
late"
'Haif-past four" Whitaker informed
him, consulting his watch. "Fake too
long for to-day. Some other time"
Drummond's reply was postponed by
tho Office boy, who popped in on the
heels of a light knock.
''Mr. Max's outside" he announced.
20 the deucel" The exclamation
seemed to escape Drummond's lips in
voluntarily. He tightened them an
grily, as though regretting the lapse
of self-control, and glanced hurriedly
askance to see If Whitaker had no
ticed. 'I'm busy" he added, a trace
sUllenly. ''Tell him I've gone out"
But he's got 'nappolntment," the
boy protested. "And besides, I told
him you was in."
you needn't fob him Off on my ac-
count" Whitaker interposed. 1--WE can
finish our confab iater-Monday-a
time. It's time for me to be getting
uptown, anyway"
'Tt isn't that" Drummond explained
doggedly. "Only-the mans a bore,
and"
1T isn't Jules MAXI" Whitaker ex-
citedly. "Not little Jules Max. who
used to stage manage our amateur
shower
That's the man." Drummond ad-
rnitted with plain reluctance.
'srhen have him in, by all means. I
want to say howdy to him, if nothing
more. And then I'n clear out and leave
you TO his troubles"
Drummond laughed a trne sourly.
Max has developed into a heavy
weight cntreprcneur, you know"
Meaning theatrical manager? Then
why not say so2 But I might've
GUESSED he'd drift into something Of
the sort"
A moment later Whitaker was vfg'
orously pumping the unreslstlng GIN
deed the apparently boneless-hand Of
Jules Max The hat that had made
Hammerstein famous Max had appro-
priated-stralght crown, fiat brim and
immaculate bodily Beneath it
his face was small Of feature. and fat
a pince-nez sheltered his neor-sighted
eyes. His short, round little body was
Invariably by day dressed I'm n dark
gray morning coat, white edged waist
coat assertiyeiy-striped trousers, and
patentieather shoes with white spats.
He had q passion for lcmon-colored
gloves Of thinnest kid aud slender
malacco walking gsticks. His dignity
was an awful thing, as lngrained as
his strut.
He reasserted the dignity now with
jerk Of hts moltreatcd hand read