Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1916-02-11
CHAPTER XIII.
Proof at Last.

Proof at Last.
The summer was upon the hills with
vengeance.
Mighty unusual" said Ma Daily,
this here heat. Hottest it's been fer
many a year; tits a-goin' to be a
mighty dry season an it's a-comin'
early"
Which prophecy seemed due to be
fulfilled. A blue heat haze lay deep In
the valleys, hung amid the hills. The
deep floor of pine needles in the big
woods was already dry as powder. and
it was only late July. The camp was
humming ahead with the work. They
had exceeded their expectations in
getting out logs, sending out more
than they had planned.
Miss 0rdway, still mistress of the
little south room, worked feverishIy
at the new story of the timberlands.
A bit of her brightness. some of her
painstaking cheeriness, was gone with
the summers heat. She had thought
that long before this she would have
won, that the engagement she had so
daringly announced would be a fact.
She could not understand his holding
orc against her.
Sandry had made many trips to
| Salem, consulting with the lawyer he
had summoned from the East, who was
turning heaven and earth in an effort
to prove what Sandry knew to be
true of Hampden, but 1t was unavail-
ing. The young commissioner at Sa-
! lem was ION to his job" and the weeks
| few by with not one raveled end to
the ball OF fraud and deception and
criminal intrigue which lay snug in the
doctored records of the state land Of
ice. Miss Ordway had dropped her
filing for the timber claim and the
young commissioner was uneasily
searching his Offices for the two let
tiers and a missing account book. He
did not family suspect that the last
time he had seen them was during the
visit to Salem of the charming new
acquisition to the ring In fact
some of those days were still shrould-
ed in a nebulous haze of mystery-red
wine and red lips and a heady infatua-
ton.
But things were approaching an
other change in Daily's lumber camp
One day in late July Sandry wrote sew
eral letters and Poppy Ordway. lean
ing Familiarity over his shoulder.
reached out hand for them.
I'm going up 10 the forked stick"
she said languidly, and I'll take
them"
The dainty fingers were all but
trembling with eagerness, for she saw
that one of them was addressed to
John H. Musseldorn, at town in New
Jersey. There was none to observe
her on the sunny SiletZ road behind
the low growth of spruce. and when
she strolled down the little meadow
again toward the cook-shack, that par
ticular letter lay safe inside the bosom
of her dress.
She went straight to the south room,
entered and closed the door. Her
hands trembled violently, but there
was no conjunction for what she was
about to do in her heart. She was
pretty well armed with knowledge that
would give her hold on Sandry, in
case she was forced to use it, but
here, she believed. would be proof pos
tive. the actual written word that she
might hold before his eyes in some
hard event Of the future.
With strong excitement she slit the
envelope, drew out the sheet and be-
gan to read. Faster and faster came
her hot breath, redder and redder
grew her cheeks, while triumph spar
killed. in her eyes. She moved slightly
on her slippered feet. a little motion
of satisfaction that set her garments
whispering-as when the tiger, scent
| ing its prey, squirms before the leap.
| With eager haste she sat down at
| her typewriter and began to write.
When she had finished an hour later,
after long intervals of study, there lay
under her hand a very creditable brief
of the famous Whitby Casa verba.
tim copy of President Whitby's last
letter. a concise history Of Walter San
dry's nfe since college. the notes in
the red morocco book. plainly speci
| fed IS his delirious words. and a copy
of this letter to MusseldoFn. Taken