The Lakeland evening telegram., 1917-07-30
His Legacy
1t Was Not
Property
b AGNES G. RROCAN
b AGNES G. RROCAN


The December afternoon was draw
ing to a close when John Gordon de-
cided suddenly to go out to the house.
All day the sun had been shining, but
now coming shadows warned him that
he had not much time to spare. He
had postponed the ordeal as long az he
could, for surely 1t would be an ordeal
to spend precious time plugging along
on a suburban trolley, transferring at
some wayside country station and then.
maybe, If no vehicle could be obtained,
walking the rest Of the way uphill
This much he knew: The house was
situated upon the top Of the hill, the
village struggling at its foot. But why
James Laidlaw, deceased, had seen fit
to leave the house with its belongings
to John Gordon's own mother he could
not understand That the eccentric
old man had been youthful friend
he had often heard, and now that his
mother had also passed into the great
beyond John Gordon must accept the
property as the next Of kin and In
cidentally go out to look 1t over
The trolley was late, of course, and
he restlessly strode up and down the
platform. This trip was a nuisance
and no doubt the property scarce worth
the trouble. Time was VIII en- John Cor
don had not been SO Indifferent to
oO,,o hama Iono cloc
He was weary of superflciality, ab-
sorbed and buried in business. The
second wait, at the tiny cross country
station, was doubly annoying, and, his
destination finally reached. no vehicle
was obtainable In fact, John Gordon
was the only passenger to leave the
train at Elmhurst. The station agent
laconically directed him "hillward,"
and, turning up his greatcoat collar.
he bent his face to the wind.
He had not gone dozen yards when
the sudden storm was on him. Snow,
heavy, yet as thick as down, fell In
swirllng clouds. But the key was in
his pocket He had come thus far on
his troublesome journey, and he would
not turn back A few moments before
the storm had descended he had
glimpsed the house, high and solitary
upon its hill 1t seemed place not to
be lightly despised. He muttered an
imprecation as the wind Of the height
battled him back; but, after all, the
distance was not so great as 1t seemed
and he stood breathless upon the de-
serted front porch.
He laughed little at the incongrui
ty Of the situation as he fitted the key
into the lock. The heavy snow had
changed the daylight to cleaning, and
he determined to go through the house
as quickly as possible, returning tc
town by the next train. With difficulty
the unused door gratingly opened, and
Gordon found himself in wide silent
ghostly hall, ghostly because Of the
white draped furniture Evidently
nothing had been disturbed, awaiting
his coming and delayed settlement Of
the estate. He shivered even in hi.
greatcoat as he hastily inspected thu
rooms upon either side Of the hall, ther
ran upstairs. Here the almost impene
trable darkness caused him to grope
to the window. vainly trying to peel
through the pane. The snowstorm hat
turned into a blizzard, hiding the light.
of the village below. To start bacl
now would be folly; to stay in thi.
deadly vault of house, worse.
The telephone. of course, was discon
nected, but even IL available what per
son would venture to come to his as
sistance up through this binding, cut
ting storm? John Gordon sank bacl
upon damp couch to sWpke and tbjpl
things over; useless In this darkness tt
continue his investigation of the house
A drowsiness came over him, and ir
real terror lest he should sleep in tbt
freezing atmosphere he moved eau
tiously toward the hall. Here another
| stairway confronted him. There hat
been a tower room, he remembered
| Perhaps from there he might be abl,
to see the direction of the lights below
Numbed with cold, he reached tn,
upper landing, then paused, blinking
his eyes at spark of light which, lik,
q hrefy, came for q moment but I,
disappear. Surely this was an after
noon Of uncanny adventure. Again tn,
spark shone high upon the wall.
WHO is there?" called John GordoI
and immediately smiled at the nerJou
folly Of his own question. With cold
ly shaking fingers he lighted an,
steadied a match. then another
"Jove" he exclaimed and stood gap
ing into the darkness. Higb upon tn
opposite wall, on ledge of what seem
ed to be bookcase, dangled the hid
of white polar bear. 1t took thir'
match to satisfy him that the beast
gaping jaws and glaring eyes wer
artificial. Then directly from benin,
the white shaggy head a small electri
torch was leveled at him.
"Oh!' breathed a relieved feminin
voice. You are the real estate agent
1 nf nauroa I dfJ ho cr1h m