The Washington herald., 1916-11-22


Undressing talk with each
other.
The fact that they were three miles
apart and that at least q million
people were between them, did not in
any way interfere with the secrecy
and audibility Of their conference.
This Is 50 common a phenomenon
this telephonio mode Of converse
that no one, who employs 1t, stops to
realize that It would have seemed the
miracle Of the ages half q century
ago.
So perhaps q century hence some
new marvel Of science may make our
descendants look back upon the tele-
phone with the same kindly derision
that we now bestow on the stage
coach and the sailing ship.
Clayton was doing little Of the
talking. Instead, he was content to
listen tntentiy to his chum-break-
ing In only occasionally with Ques-
ton or with an exclamation OF amaze.
Stanley, at the other end Of the
wire, was talking earnestly and con-
cisely. He was In his own private
once. In the Examiner Building.
Before calling Bob up he had sent
his stenographer from the room, had
locked both Of its doors and had sta
toned an ONCE boy outside Of each
to prevent eayesdropping.
In spite OF all these odd precau-
lions, his voice was pitched SO low
as to be almost a whisper.
And he glanced nervously about
him from time to time to make csr-
tain no one was listening at windows
q doors.
At last Harold paused in the steady
flow of instructions he had been CIV
ing.
Il think that covers everything"
he finished. You're sure you under
stand?"
Yes" came Bob's reply, tinged
with not q little awe. II understand,
Harold, you're q wonder! But can we
carry it through? Remember, we
Garry 1t through?" repeated Stan
ley. "Of course we can. It's mat
ter Of will and pluck and iron nerve.
And there's more danger in 1t for US
than most men incur in a lifetime.
Rut IL we stand together, we can carry
1t through. I'll stake my life on
that"
1T seems to me-" commented Bob,
that we're already stalking our
lives for about all they're worth. Do
you realize that this new plan Of
yours is a gamble with death-and
with all the odds against US both?"
Yes, / realize it," said Harold. "Of
course do. I'm not fool. The brave
hn uuhn AnalTHff raQl.
ize danger. He's the man who real
izes it and goes ahead just the same"
That's what we're going to do"
Clayton replied. It's a big risk, but
it's for still bigger stake"
That's the right spirit, old mani"
approved Stanley. And now, you
have your instructions. Get to work
at once on them. We can't waste
time. Because times the one thing
we haven't got. This clew Of mine
is the strongest yet And 1t will drive
the Crimson Stain gang to earth.
Take my word for that. Good-by."
He hung up the receiver, got to his
feet and unlocked the two Office
doors. The time for planning was
past. The time for action had at last
arrived. The long wait in the
trenches was ended. The bugle was
sounding the shrilly inspiring
"Charge!"
DR.. Montrose at about the same mo-
ment, turned In from the street and
moved wearily up the walk toward his
big Riverdale house.
His eyes were bloodshot; his face
was drawn and his shoulders sagged.
Every line OF his big body and clean
cut face, every step that he took, be-
tokened utter fatigue, both Of spirit
and of flesh.
And in his expression there was
more than mere WEAKNESS. There
was In his look a haunting dread and
misery that had of late grown more
dominated his whole countenance.
No stranger seeing him today for
the first time could have doubted for
an instant that the doctor was q prey
to some ceaselessly gnawing terror
and grief.
Entering the, house, DR.. Montrose
stood for a moment at the foot Of the
broad stairway hesitating as to
whether or not he should go up to
the laboratory and there resume his
interrupted work.
But in his present state Of fatigue
work offered no allurement whatever.
And laying his hat and his medicine
case on the hall table he went into
the library.
There was cool restfulness about
the big, book-lined room, with its
deep leather chairs and its atmos-
phere Of scholarly calm. It was an
ideal resting place for tired and
harassed man.
DR.. Montrose crossed to the table
and sat into a big chair beside It.
His gaze strayed over the book-lit-
tered surface Of the table. but he saw
nothing there that looked worth the
trouble Of reading.
With sigh he crossed his arms on
the table edge and pillowed his aching
head upon them.
He had been up nearly an night
and all morning with a dying patient.
No hand-to-hand battle of two me-
diaeval warriors had ever been more
ffercely waged than DR.. Montrose's
ali-night duel with death for the life
Of the patient.
Now, having waged that life and
death battle, and having left his
patient out Of danger, he felt
strangely weak and exhausted. He
had conquered death. but the victory