Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1917-04-02
him. i. dead a. Peter stark. = ds44


as Drummond.
It was nearly midnight. but the hour
found Whitaker In no humor for bed or
the emptiness Of his room. He strollsd
into the lounge. sat down at detached
table in corner, and ordered some
thing to drink. A page, bearing some.
thing on salver, ambled through the
lounge, now and again opening his
mouth to bleat, dispassionately: "Mfs-
tn Whitaker, Nista whitaker r. 8
The owner Of that name experienced
q flush Of evaporation. What right
had the management to cause him to
be advertised in every public room q
the establishment But tho
next instant his resentment evapoFs
ated, when he remembered that he rs.
manned Mr.. Hugh Morten In the mana
gerial comprehension.
He lifted finger; the boy swerved
toward him, rendered blue envelope,
accepted a gratuity and departed.
It was a cable message; very prob.
ably an answer to his to Grace Petit.
Whitaker tore the envelope ana nm
folded the Enclosure, glancing hrst at
the signature to verify his surmise. ~
he did so, he heard his name Z second
time.
Pardon me; this II Mr.. whitaker
A man stood beside the little table
--one whom whitaker had indifference
~ noticed on entering as an equally
lonely lounger at another table.
Though he frowned involuntarily
with annoyance, he couldn't well deny
his identity.
"Yes," he said shortly, looking the
man up and down with q captious eya.
Yet it was hard to find much fault
with this invader Of his preoccupation.
He had the poise and the dress Of a
gentleman: dignity without aggressive
ness, completeness without ostentatiOn.
He had q spare, not ungraceful body. Z
plain, dark face, q humorous mouth,
steady eyes: man easily forgotten or,
overlooked unless he willed II other
wise. y
MY name Is Ember." he said Quiet-
ly. 'sIf you'll permit me-my card. :,
He offered a slip Of pasteboard en-;
graved with the name Of Martin En1-
Der. "And I'll sit down, because II
want to talk to you foT : few min.
utes."
Accordingly he sat down. whitaker
glanced at the card. and questi0ningiy
back at Mr.. Ember's face.
81 don't know you, but y
What are we to talk about, please7
The man smiled, not unpleasingly.
"Mrs. Whitaker" he said.
"Mrs. Whitaker didn't send you to
met Then how What the deuce"
II happened to have a. seat near your
box at the theater. tonight Mr.. Em-
Der explained coolly. ''From-whAt I
saw there, 1 inferred that you must sbs
yourself. Afterwards got hold d
Max. confirmed my suspicion. and q.
tracted your address from him.
II see" said Whitaker. SLOWLY.
aWho the devil are you r he demanded
bluntly.
Twas" said the other slowly. ~ooe4
a private detective. Eow--I'm q pei
son Of no particular employment. Of Il.
dependent means. with penchant
you're at liberty to assume-f0r pdk-
ing my nose into other peoples busl-
ness. Mrs. George Petit once CO.
.ployed me to md her sister. Miss Naxy
Ladislas, who had run away WITH ~
chauffeur named Morton"
"Just minute" said Whitaker sud
denly-"by your leave I'M
Ember bowed gravely. For thouShti
longer Whitaker's gaze bored into his
eyes in vain effort to fathom what 49,
going on behind them, the animuS mi
discovered by his words; then. xemem
berinx, he looked down At Ne cable
message in his hand.
Martin Ember 1T ran) private
agency 1435 Broadway, Grace Petdts
fTn no Continual