The Richmond palladium and sun-telegram. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1907-1939, 1916-02-15
THE STORY OF ZOE"

Memories Of this kind crowded ir
upon Noel Crawley's dazed and over
excited brain, and one question KEEP
hammering insistently for answer:
What would Brooke do II he knew
And then he realized, with a still
more poignant horror at the unnam
able position in which through his
own folly and scurvy trick o. fate
he found himself placed, that that wa:
not really the paramount fear. 1t wa:
not the fear of consequence. Were
Brooke to know--why he should only
want Brooke or anyone else to xii
him. Such fate would be too good
and life under such circumstance
would be utterly intolerabie.
No. Brooke might arise in primitive
wrath and slay the false wife and the
false friend. and then turn his face
toward hell. Crawley, with his art
lists soul and highly strung tempera
ment, saw the whole drama. 1t was
fitting and inevitable, and he did moi
finch. Once the truth were out life
would be impossible. Already in his
mind he forgave Brooke for the I'm
committed murder.
No, 1t was not that. 1t was rather
the intolerable thought of the effect
such discovery would have or
Brooke himself-his friend, his bene
factor and patron, the man to whom
he attributed his present position in
the world-for Crawley was not sc
egotistical as to fail to realize that
despite his genius. he could hardly
have been recognized az yet had it not
been that the great empire maker had
never forgotten his friend of bohe
milan days in the Quarter Latin. and
had never lost an oppOrtunity-and
there had been many-of diplomatical
ly booming him. The result had been
Noel Crawley, of 40a Grosvenor
Road. On the score Of gratitude
alone Crawley would have sooner died
than ruin Brookes happiness.
HE Is TORN By A
TERRIBLE DESPAIR.
For all that, there was a much
stronger influence at work within him
than the mere gratitude Of a client to
his patron. Brooke had, it is true
made Crawley just as he made lots OF
other people who were not necessarily
at all grateful to him as they should
have been.
AS matter Of fact, in the case OF
Noel Crawley, Brooke had only antici
pated events, for with or without the
great pioneer there is no shadow OF
doubt that the artist would sooner OF
later have achieved recognition and
fame, for Crawley was a man in a mil
Iona genius in whose soul burnt the
immortal flame.
Still--and Brooke realized that
genius had been known to die unrec
nized and fame did not always mean
money, while money to Brooke was q
sine qua non of existence, artistic or
otherwise.
Crawley, it Is true, was grateful to
Brooke, perhaps over-grateful. in his
heart of hearts. but If he had owed
nothing to Brooke he would have been
none the less fond Of the man, proud
of his great, honest friendship. The
two men were friends.
Beads of sweat started from his
throbbing temples. Yes, he knew
what he had done. he and Zoe. He
had ruined Godfrey Brooke's life.
Brooke would go into the Lever
edge Gallery and see his wife. and
then he would know. Yes, Crawley
felt IL inevitable. He was paralyzed.
He could hear the march of events:
he had not the strength to raise a
hand to avert the catastrophe. What
would be the good II he did? What
would he do to prevent it? Nothing.
For all he knew Brooke might know
now. Hundreds of people must have
seen the picture already. The sense
OF sick inertia, which held him in its
r..l tyNn
drowsy and lethargic He actually
felt as If he did not much care. The
thing was done. The blow had fallen.
He was lost.
But the blow had not fallen; at
least there was a grain OF hope.
Good heaven!" he muttered thick
ly. 81 must be mad to be sitting here
like this. 1t must not be! 1t shall not
be! He shall never know!"
The nightmare of inertia had passed.
He was alive again. instinct with en-
ersy, desperate with resolve. Also a
certain clearness of vision had come
TO him, a certain steadiness of nerve.
He braced himself and glanced over
his untouched lunch to the clock, then
at his watch.
"Jll do it," he said aloud. "Yes, I'll
do it, If I'm not too late!"
Five minutes afterwards he was
driving in a taxicab to the Leveredge
Gallery in Bond street
Hutton heard the door Of the flat
bang and entered the sitting room to
find his masters lunch untouched and
his master gone. He contemplated the
empty room in silence and scratched
the back of his right ear.
There's something in the air." he
soliloquized, wagging his head grave
ly. Something's up, or else he's jolly
we'll gone off his chump!"
It was Just two o'clock when Craw
lev dismissed his taxi outside the
Gallery.
Messrs. Leveredge and Maberley
were art connoisseurs, with reputa-
lion worldwide. 1t was a compare
lively new firm, for Leveredge, whose
zeal namea it was rumored. was Edel.