The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1916-08-18
A NOVEL A WEEK.
Next Week
"ANNE. ACTRESS"
BY Juliet G. Sager.

She turned, with a gasp, and
hid her face In her hands, shud
dering with horror and loathing
"Oh! OH" she cried. II know
already know ALL"
"All?" demanded Blake, star
ing blankly.
Yes; all! And-and he made
me think it was you!" She gasped
and fell silent.
Blake's face went white. He
spoke in a clear, vibrant voice
tense as an overstrained violin
string II am speaking about
Winthrope-understand me? -
Winthrope. He has been badly
hurt"
THE door swung down and
struck him, when he was creep
ing in" -
Dbl" roared Blake ~
picked him up like a sick baby
the beast !-'stead of grinding my
heel in his face! III"
Tom! don't-don't even speak
1t! Toni
She sprang to him, and caught
his sleeve in convulsive grasp
Hush, for mercys sake. Tom
Blake, remember-you're man!
He Gained like a ferocious dog
at the voice of its master; but II
was several minutes before he
could bring himself to obey her
insistent urging that he should
return to the injured man.
"Tll CO." he at last growled
wouldn't do 1t even for you, but
he's good as dead-lucky for
him."
Dead"
Dying. You stay away"
He went a few PAGES along the
cleft to the place where a limp
form lay huddled on the lodges.
Slowly, as though drawn by the
fascination of horror, the girl
crept after him. When she saw
the broken, storm-beaten thing
that had been Winthrope, she
stopped, and would have turned
back. After all, Blake had said,
he was dying
Winthrope was speaking. feeb-
ly and brokenly. yet distinctly:
"S'elp me, I'll nfess!-Ill
confess ALL" he babbled. 1.-THE
stones are sewed in the stomach
pad; 'ad to take 'em bout of
their settings, and. melt up the
gold He paused, and a cunning
smile stole over his distorted fea-
lures. "Ho, wot bloomin' lark!
Valet plays the gent, an they
never as a linking! Mr.. Cecil
Winthrope, hif you please, an a
int of a title-wot a lark. Awk-
ings. me lad, you're a gay 'oaxer!
Wot lark. wot lark"
There was pause. The breath
of the wounded man came in la
bored gasps. Yet once again he
rallied. and this time his eyes
turned to Miss Leslie.
His voice shrilled out in quay
ering appeal:
"Don't--don't look at me,
miss! | tried to make myself q
gentleman; / fought my way ur
out of the East End-out of that
hell-and none ever lifted a fin
ger to help me. / educated my.
self like scholar-then the stock
sharks cheated me of my savings
out of the last penny; and / had
to take service. A valet-his
Grace's valet, and I a scholar! Dc
you wonder the devil got into me
Do you"
Blake's deep voice, firm but
strangely husky, broke in upon
and silenced the cry of agony:
There, l guess you've said
enough"
Blake thrust himself between
Miss Leslie and the crumpled fig.
ure.
Get back around the tree" he
said harshly.
Il can't CO." she half whisp.
cred, mot until-until I've learn.
edo you-can you tell me JUS,
what is paranoia?"
Blake tapped the top of his
head.
Near as l can say, it's soften
ing of the brain-up there"
do you think that" she hes.
itated-"that he had it,"
Blake paused to consider.
well, I'm no alienist.
thought him a softly from the
first. But this Hawkins, IL that's
his name, had brains, all right
Still. he may have been cracked
When folks go dotty, they some.
times get extra cute. The best
can think of him is that losing his
savings may have made him slip q
cog, and then the scare over the
way we landed here and his spells
of fever probably hurried up the
softening."
"Then you believe his story?'
Eyes, l do. But IL you'll go
please"
CHAPTER x