Evening star., 1917-09-09
Continued from Fourth Page.)

Continued from Fourth Page.)
streets until daybreak. thinking. ever
thinking, but unable, he found. to turn
back now after he had gone this far
1t was daybreak when he turned his
steps homeward, and the long streets
walled in with relentless brick and
mortar. with only a strip of light in
the upper sky, were vacant. Soon, very
soon, the fioodtide of life would set in
again. but now there terrible
loneliness, a hollowness. that made his
footsteps on the stone tagging raise an
echo The deSolation of il, the feeling
that at any moment he might be an
outcast from his own set, made him
think of Gadsden when he presently
returned from prison. 1t would be like
this and worse unless Richa rdson con-
fessed and gave him back his own in
imitable work. Richardson shuddered: /:
he could not do it. Better that Gadsden
should suffer than he
But kitty-what of her? Would she
ever forgive him, ever believe in him
again? 1t was the most exquisite irony
of fate that Kitty should have known
Gadsden and really been the ideal of
the play Why iii the world had il
happened? He could not imagine why
fate had played such a trick upon him.
When any one might have been Gads
den's inspiration. it had to be Kitty
French. But there was one crumb of
comfort: Gadsden should never have
her; his record. his imprisonment. his
absolute helplessness against his de-
spoiler. sealed his fate. Never, thought
RICHARDSON. never should he be permit
ted to win a place nearer the woman
they both loved
With this determination uppermost in
his mind he hurried home. There he
found a note from GriSwold
Rang You up ten times on the
phone to no purpose" wrote the
manager. Come down in the morning
and see Trewyck. He wants a play at
1, M, ,lr.-
to write it
Richardson laid the letter down on
the table and stared at it vacantly. Ire
wyck was a really great actor. To be
asked to do play for him in it
self a great compliment. No dramatist
of the day would refuse to do it Rich
ardSon was conscious of a hot flush of
shame. How could he answer them? He
could not write line that TreWyck
would even consider He turned and
went upstairs with difficulty. He had d
curious feeling that the ground was
crumbling under his feet.
CHAPTER KILL
1t was just before the Thursday mat
inee. almost a month later. that Girls
void called Moylan into his office. The
manager was sitting at his desk.
heap of crumpled papers before him.
He brought his fist down on them with
u characteristic thud.
Seen this stuff, Moylan?'
The dramatic reader suppressed a
dry smile. You mean. Richardson's
Scenario?'
Griswold gave him an exasperated
look.
Il mean Richardson's theatrical bill
of fare-that's what 1t looks like.
Il didn't notice any entrees.
Its mush-plain mush.
Tea and milk, / thought
They looked at each other, then the
h al oh Nv
around. DO You remember that man
who tried to shoot him."
Moylan chuckled. You think he'd
been reading one of Richardson's
plays"
I'm be hanged if l don't think there
was some truth in what he claimed.
Now, l ask you, how the deuce did a
man who wrote The Tree of Life
write that" and he thrust paper at
Moylan with a growl of wrath.
The young man took the offending
manuscript and ran his eye over the
close lines.
Ever such rot?" Griswold de-
manded And for Trewyck can't
insult the man by submitting it,
Moylan returned the paper to his
desk Wen have to allow something
for sentimental conditions. Richard
sons down on his luck"
You mean-?"
Miss French has broken off the en-
Griswold whistled. 1T looks like a
big match for her. So that's what ails
him? I wondered why he looked like a
faded tuberose. See here, Moylan. he
can't do this play for Trewyck. You
tell him So.
MY dear Griswold, I'm a mere
worm. You trample on me. but even a
worm will turn. That's too much. Tell
him yourself"
Griswold turned moodily to his desk.
"If l do he said emphatically, II shall
tell him what I think of it. lists
pap
been thrust unceremoniously aside for
Richardson. and he WAS too human not
to enjoy Griswold's disgust. He had a