Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1919-09-25


view OF the pas5. and his own resent
escape; but certainly II appeared 20 be
decidedly '-far-fetched" now. and Ger.
tainly II was no deeplaid plot on the
part Of Captain Laynton. such as. In a
hazy. fentastieal way. he had imagined
IL might have been
What possible motive could Laynton
have In carrying out the original pur-
pose for which he had been chartered.
except that he felt I'm honor bound 20
do so? Monet
And II the man had been dishonest
he could have put that eleven hundred
dollars lying there ON the bunk into his
own pocket and no one would have
been the wiser, Even the matter Of
the wireless. which in his suspicious
state OF mind had assumed perhaps ex-
aggerated proportions. had been shot
to pieces, so 10 speak. as far as Il be-
ing there for any Interior purpose was
concerned-and by Irrefutable evidence
Helen MacKay's!
And with a vision of brown eyes and
gloriouSly fruant hair before him and
the thought OF tomorrow when the
vision should materialize into reality
again he turned into his bunk.
And the tomorrow" and the two
days that followed. not only dispelled
all final doubt from his mind but found
him responding frankly to the general
good-feilowship which he found exist
Ing In the cabin.
They passed quickly those three
days-too quickly. And they were the
happIest days wallen had ever known
because Helen MacKay had made
them happy days. and because a new
glad thing had come into his life.
Had she. too. come to care? He did
not know. Sometimes. in little inti-
mate ways. i'm a smile or a glance or a
word or quick. trustful touch of the
hand. he read the answer to his I'm.
spoken question as his soul wanted TO
read the answer.
And so they had passed those days
and II was the fourth night now since
he had come abOard-and tomorrow
they would be I'm Singapore.
He lay tossing I'm his bunk. A tumult
of thought kept his brain active and
alert. Singaporei What would Singa.
pore bring hlm2 Who was this Drink
House Sam?
1t mattered a great deal now-a
| great deal more than II had mattered
before.
For before, with a sort Of berserk
rage, he had been willing to take q
gamblers chance. and, win or lose
stake his life against this devil, who
ever he might be, that had tried to
strike him down without warning
without a chance to defend himself
but now his life meant more to him
| ne wanted 10 live-fOr her.
"Thank God" he muttered. "that
at least everything Is all right on
board hereT'
He turned over and lay for perhaps
ten minutes, trying to compose himself
to sleep-but his eyes insisted on re
naming fastened on a queer little
white patch by the door. What was
1t? II wasn't the moonlight through
the portfolio rejecting on anything.
He raised himself up on his elbow
several times to make sure of that
Finally, In n fretful way, he got out
Of his bunk to investigate. 1t was q
piece of paper that had evidently beer
pushed In under the threshold-bu
whether ten minutes or two hours ago
he had no idea.
Wallen picked up the paper, switched
on the Highland suddenly Ii seemet
as though his immediate surrounding,
had vanished, and he was living agar
a scene of many years ago. He wa,
standing on the stairway of that grim
gray. lonely house In the dead of night
trembling child In his nightciothes
and below In the hall. holding a candle
was his father, and Gunga was bendin,
over a form on the floor, and his IN
theirs voice was In his ears: "LoOl
again, Gunga. Has he enc finger OF
the left handT'
And then Gunga's answer: 81 hav,
looked. sahib. and the hand is whole
Wallen's face was strangely white
On the piece of parchment that h,
held was crudely traced n human hand
and the fingers, save for the forefinger
had the appearance of having beer
hacked away.
CONTINUED NEXT WEEK..