The Pulaskian., 1916-09-29


 more or less intoxicated pierrots danced a cancan to the delirious plaud- It's of an audience themselves over come by the heat and passion that hung heavy in the night air. Sylvia Arnaud clapped her hands like a child.
 The noise of the dancing and music reached the lighted room that faced out on the avenue. At his place by the window Stephen Lowe seemed plunged in his own thoughts, and the man in evening dress who stood with his clenched hand on the table stamped impatiently.
 Are you listening MT. LoweY'
 Yes, yes, I am listening. I heard everything you said. Sower was cash tered. am not surprised. His profes- sion was his tragedy. He'would have made an admirable company promoter, but the task of being an honest gen. tleman was too much for him. You say he has committed suicide. Have you come all this way to tell me of poor Sower's more or less providential es- cape, MT. Preston"
 The young man crimsoned, but an- swered steadily.
 You were his friend"
 A faint ironical smile crept over Lowe's suffering features
 T was Sower's partner" he said quietly. You were Farquhar's friend You chose to act with us against him of your own free will. There was a compact, an understanding The whole scene that night was a farce, a little play-acting with you as an unconscious actor. Farquhar intervened. He blun- dered recklessy, but he spoiled our plans"
 'You scoundreIr'
 'sYes, am a scoundrel," Lowe said simply; but do not trouble to murder me. That would get you into difficult ties, and it is not necessary" He touched himself lightly on the chest. T have something here which will fin- ish me off in a month or two-less pleasantly than you would do. That is why care not at all how much or how little you know. The partnership is ended-and I am going out of busi- ness" He laughed sardonically and turned back to the window. The crowd beneath had broken up and fallen back on either side beneath the trees of the avenue, and from the distance there sounded a dull rhythmic beat and the ominous rattle of drums. 'The Legion has returned" Lowe said quietly. Do you want to see the saddest sight on earth, Mr. Preston?"
 The young man drew nearer, re- luctant yet fascinated. His hands were no longer clenched. He was looking at the gaunt figure leaning negligently against the window edge as at some thing monstrous, incredible.
 Have you no conscience-no re- morse?' he said.
 'Oh, yes, MT. Preston, great deal"
 '"Then pity my remorse. For Gods sake-if you know-tell me why Far quhar did that thing-help me to un- derstand"
 The boyish passionate pleading caused Lowe to turn a moment. He smiled, and that faint glimmer of half compassionate understanding was a light falling deep into q turgid stream revealing many sunken, forgotten things.
 'Farquhar sacrificed himself" he said. .'He resigned because Sower wished it. That seems incredible. But Sower held the reins. There was an old tragedy which he used for his own ends-the tragedy of his fathers death and of Captain Farquhar's disappear ance."
 The roll of drums was close at hand, and a woman's note of laughter fut- tered up birdlike from the somber-fow- ing tide of sound.
 Lowe turned back to the window
 You see. Sower miscalculated, he went on. "He was q Jew from God knows where, and he lost his sense of patriotism. He did not understand this red-hot love of ones birthplace. He did not understand the reckless temperament of the man with whom he was dealing. Are you beginning to understand, MT. Preston?"
 "Yes, I am beginning to under stand,' Preston said duly. And then?"
 ..Then history repeated itself-not in incident. but in character. Robert Sower tried to be the honorable gen. tleman; he tried even. strange as it may seem, to gain Farquhar's friend ship. He failed, and then-you re member that scene at the card tables ? That decided him. Blood and instinct were too strong. He turned and used his power"
 Lowe stepped out on to the balcony, and bent forward with his elbows on the rail, watching the dense company of chausseurs force their way through the restless crowd. The clash of the band was already fainter. The chas- seurs rode now in silence, and once more the dull monotonous tread pre- dominated, strangely, consistently ominous. "You know where Farquhar -ay, . 1x1