Evening star., 1919-06-29


Il ran into him in Venice" said Col
burton, coldly. I'm glad you tell me
he's in love with her. II you can
twist mans heart, it's better than
twisting his bones"
Camden departed. Poor Grogan. 1t
was not possible that he should slip
through every trap. Sooner or later,
he would have to pay dearly for his
devotion. For Camden could not get
away from the fact that he liked the
lrishman. Supposing he surrendered
to the impulse to clear out" Within
six months time he would be abso-
lutely penniless. living in some cheap
boarding house which would auto
matically grow cheaper as the days
went by. His good clothes and his
jewels would be in pawn. No
use. He was no good; it was too late
now even IL he wanted earnestly to
be good He was too deeply in the
web. 1t was written; he would have
to go on to the end He would prob
ably die alone in some oriental rat
hole.
Camden laughed suddenly. There
was a chance for him. IL he played
his cards carefully 1t was worth try
ing. 1t was, in truth his main reason
for accepting this equivocal adven-
ture
Midnight.
The Elsa tugged at her cables.
Somewhere out in the Indian ocean
great storm was running. Colbur-
tons guests had returned to the
l..
empty bottles and scattered cards.
The little silk curtains over the open
ports tapped and snapped. Outside.
the davits creaked now to starboard.
now to port.
The saloon was richly furnished. 1t
served both as dining room and lounge
during rough weather. Port and star
board ran low bookshelves, and there
were several hundred books in exQuis-
ite hides But not one of them ap-
peared thumbed. beloved. On this
yacht books had never been IA source
of amusement they had never been
reckoned as friends; they went with
the teak. the gilt. and the Persian
haunted by friendly ghosts: but il
'Hcic NtIe any SnoStS III tHlS one,
they We're still tight in their tombs.
This was a pleasure yacht which the
present owner had inherited six years
before.
Over the mantel was the portrait of
an elderly man. The artist had done
what he could to soften the face;
but because he was an artist one saw
the money changer in the temple in
the cold. thin lips and repellent eyes.
At the other end OF the saloon, over
the sideboard, was the portrait of a
woman. This, too, had been ideal
iZed; yet even so one caught the
emptiness of the eyes, the vanity and
selfishness in the droop Of the lips.
One was the father and the other was
the mother of the young man below.
But he was an old young man. You
might have computed his age. in cons
instead OF years. He was thirty five:
and man should he really young at
that age. He was well built, quite
graceful when he moved, and unde-
niably handsome-that is, If. you
weren't specialized in physiognomy.
His eyes were like his fathers. but
the mother lips of him were hidden
under we'll turned mustache
Norton Colburton was what his par
ents had made him. We all are, more
or less. There is no reason why our
immediate progenitors should not be
forced to carry some Of the burden.
A cold -blooded, money making father
on one side. and vain, dissatisfied.
pleasure-loving mother on the other
it followed naturally that these at
tributes should combine in the Off
spring. The old man had roared and
cursed at the son, and the mother
mad pampered him. The boy had af-
iorded the parents a mutual ground
ior quarrfling. They never met that
'heF hid not wrangle over him. Not
mat they cared particularly whether
ne went wrong or right, but because
me elder rclhurton hated his wife
ana "as de.'pised by her. A man with
me soul OF David might have come
through this unscathed: but tho
younger colburton had tn. soul of "a
JACOB. always ready to exchange
mess of pottage for a birthripbt
All alone now, free OF all manner
or leashcs. he was proud OF his riches
and the power they gave him. He
was an unfettered king. He had nh
solute freedom. He had millions
which would not fritter away. no mat