The Morgan County press. (Wartburg, Tenn.) 1916-1926, 1917-02-15

stroying Angel disappeared from the
newspaper scare-heads. SO also the
name of DrummOnd. Hugh Morten
Whitaker, the dead man come to life,
occupied public interest for BRIEF
halliday. BY the time that the execu-
tors of Carter Drummond and the at
torneys representing his clients began
to make sense of his estate and in
terests, their discoveries failed to COM
mand newspaper space.
Drummond had appropriated to his
own uses every dollar of the small
fortune left in his care by his erstwhile
mariner. No other client of his had
suffered, however. His populations had
been confined wholly to the one quar-
ter whence he had had every reason to
anticipate neither protest nor ex-
posture. In Whitaker's tOo-magnani-
nous opinion, the man had not been
so much thief as one who yielded to
the temptation to convert to his own
needs and uses property against
which, it appeared, no other living be-
ing cared to enter claim. The mon
etary loss was an iaconsiderable thing
to q man with an interest in mines in
the Owen Stanley country. He said
nothing. Drummond's name remained
untarnished, save in the knowledge OF
a few.
OF these, Martin Ember was one.
Whitaker made point of hunting him
I'D. The retired detective received con-
firmation of his surmise without any
amazement.
"You still believe that he's alive"
Implicitly" Ember asserted with
conviction. sr .s 80
Gould you find him, if necessary
within day. think. Do you wish
me tor"
Ember permitted Whitaker to con-
slider the matter in silence for some
moments. Then. "Do you want ad-
vice?" he inquired. s..
"Well?"
Hunt him down and put him behind
the bars" said Ember instantly.
"What's the good Of that?"
"Your personal safety"
"How?"
with you out of the way, he could
come back without fear"
Ember permitted another pause to
lenethen, unbroken by Whitaker.
"Shall try to find him for your ne
said quietly, in the end.
mo" Whitaker decided. mo. Let
him alone-poor devil"
Ember disclaimed further RESPONSE
bility with a movement of his Shout
ders.
But my wife? Could you find her
as readily7"
Possibly" the detective admitted
cautiously. "But don't mean to-"
"Why not?"
principally because she doesn't want
me to. Otherwise she'd let you know
where to look for her."
"True."
These fragments of dialogue are
from q conversation that took place in
the month of June, nearly seven weeks
after the farewell performance at the
Theatre Max. Interim, Whitaker had
quietly resumed his place In the life
of the town, regaining old friendships,
renewing old associations. The milo
excitement occasioned by his reappear-
ance had already subsidized; he was
again an accepted and substantial rae
tor in the society of his kind.
Gradually he began to know more
hours of loneliness than suited his
tastes. His rooms-the old rooms over
looking Bryant park regained and re-
furnished much as they had been six
wears before-knew his solitary pres
ence through many a long evening.
July came with blistering breath and
he took to the Adirondacks, meaning
m he gone a month. Within ten days
he was home again, drawn back IRE
sistibIy by a strange. Unsuitable crav-
ing of unformulated desire. Town
bored him, yet he could not seem TO
rest away from 1t.
He wandered In and out up and
down, an unquiet, irresolute soul, ire
mendoNsly perplexed.
There came one dark and sultry
night. heavy beneath skies overcast, In
August. Whitaker left a roof-garden
I'm the middle of a stupid performance
and walked the streets till long after
midnight, counting the fatigue that
alone could bestow untroubled sleep
On his return a sleepy hall-boy with
a wiIted collar ran the elevator up TO
his tenth-hoor landing and, leaving him
fumbling. ut the lock OF his door,
dropped clankingly out OF sight. Whit
aker entered and shut himself in with
tbe pitch-bIackness Of his private hall.