The interior journal. [volume] (Stanford, Ky.) 1912-1984, 1916-05-05

cement, as cautiously and as silently
as a wounded blacksnake might crawl
from a cave, bore an iron claw at the
end of its right arm and betrayed an
unmistakable desire to creep away in
to the darkness before being observed.
The second man, who, on recovering
consciousness found himself ENGAGED
between two fallen pillars of marble
topped by one of the roof slabs, expert
enced no little difficulty in emerging
to the open, so closely were these pro-
tecting pillars wedged about him.
But as he worked his bruised body
through that Giants Causeway of bro
ken rock, he felt grateful enough, re-
Numbering what had happened, to be
still alive. And sore as he was in
body, he was even more bruised in
spirit at the memory of the fact that
his enemy, Jules Legar, had at the
last moment escaped from his clutch.
The Lake of Fire.
Legar, lucky as his escape had been,
knew that his margin of safety was
still too narrow for much immediate
comfort of either mind or body. So
he crawled away as best he could,
nursing his strength when he came to
cover and going on again when some
passing light showed that cover to be
none too dense. But he did not give
up until he had reached higher
ground There he was able to hide
himself in a thicket and rest for an
hour or two.
But to remain in that neighborhood
until morning, he knew, would be out
of the question. About that whole
suspected area, he felt, the police
would surely throw Gordon, and the
resource of disguise was no longer at
his disposal Already from where he
lay, he could see dozens of moving
lamps of workers about the mauso-
leum ruins. He could also see the
glow of powerful pair Of headlights,
apparently on a motor car threading
its way to the scene of the explosion.
And to the north he could even more
distinctly see the fiery tongues of the
chimney flares above the Westingham
foundry, where hundreds of toilers,
turning night into day, worked about
the great blast furnaces and cauldrons
Of molten metal.
In foundry such as that, he sud-
denly remembered, lay his best
chance for escape. Disheveled as he
was, he could pass unnoticed among
those sooty workers. And when the
night shift went Off he told himself,
he could slip away in their midst. un-
noticed and unchallenged. And if the
worst came to the worst he could
crawl into hiding somewhere about
the tangle Of machinery under that
foundry roof itself, and there lay up
until he knew the coast was clear
again, with the chance of stealing a
puddler's Jumper" for disguise and
a dinner pail or two full of food for q
meal.
All this Legar might have done, and
might have done without great diff
Guilty, had not trace OF his older oh
session of hate impinged on his clear.
ly outlined course of action.
He was once more himself, by this
time, walking with a limp that was
scarcely discernible. But as he stole
down from the higher ground and
made his way back towards the West
ingham chimney flares he became
once more conscious of the whittier
glare along the roadside he was so
cautiously skirting. This, he remem-
bered, as he stole nearer, came from
the headlights of stalled limousine.
Then he made a second and more
startling discovery. He knew, even
before he caught sight of Train work
ing over his helpless car, that it be-
longed to Enoch Golden. But what
actually drew him closer to the spot
was a glimpse of Margery Golden her
self, in a gray fur motor coat, as she
stepped from the body Of the car and
came full into the glare of the head
lights, closer beside her STOPPING
chauffeur.
"Are we stalled?" he could hear the
girl ask.
We'll be off again in minute OF
two, Miss Margery," was Trains pre-
occupied reply.
But l can't stand here helpless,
protested the girl. II can't wait.
must know what has happened to Da
vid Marley"
"Whatexer It. was. it's over and