Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1920-04-15

by which he must have entered stood
half open. The lock was broken ana
rusty,
He commenced to understand
There was deserted farm house
less than two miles from the Ce-
dars. Since he had always known
about II, II wasn't unusual he should
have taken shelter there after decid-
ing not TO go in TO his grandfather.
He stepped thru the doorway to
the unkempt yard about whose tum-
bled fences the woods advanced
thickly, He recognized the place
For some time he stood ashamed,
yet fair enough to seek the cause OF
his experience in some mental un-
health deeper than any reaction Irom
last nights folly.
He glanced al his watch. II was
after 2 o'clock. The mournful neigh
borhood, the growing chill In the air,
the sullen sky, urged him away He
walked down the road. OF course he
couldn't go to the Cedars in this
! condition. He would return TO his
! apartment in New York, where he
! could battle, change his clothes, re-
cover from this feeling OF physical
! Ill, and remember, perhaps, some
thing more.
II wasn't far TO the little village
on the railroad. and at this hour
/ there were plenty OF trains. He hoped
no one he knew would see him at
: the station. He smiled YEARLY.
/ W hat difference did that make? He
might as we'll face old Blackburn,
| himself. as ne was. BY this time the
! thing was done. The new will had
been made. He was penniless and
an outcast. But his furtive manner
clung He didn't want Katherine to
see him like this.
From the entrance of the village
1t was only a few steps to the sta
ton. Several carriages stood at the
platform, testimony that train was
nearly due. He prayed that ii would
be for New York. He didn't wait to
wait around. He didn't want TO risk
katherine's driving in on some er-
rand.
His mind, intent only on escaping
prying eyes. was drawn by man
who stepped from behind a carriage
and started across the roadway in
his direction, staring at him incredu-
lousy. His quick apprehension van
ished. He couldn't recall that sur
prised face. There was no harm be-
ing seen. miserable as he was, dress
ed as he was, by this stranger He
looked at him closer. The man was
plainly clothed. He had small, sharp
eyes. His hairless face was intri-
cately wrinkled. His lips were thin,
making a straight line.
To avoid him Bobby stepped aside,
thinking he must be going past, but
the stranger stopped and placed a
firm hand on Bobby's shoulder. He
spoke in a quick, authoritative voice
Certainly you are Mr.. Robert
Blackburn
For Bobby, in his nervous, bewild-
cred condition. there was an ominous
note il this surprise, this assurance,
this peremptory greeting.
What's amazing about that?" he
jerked out.
The strangers lips parted in
straight smile.
Amazing! That's the word / was
thinking Of Hoped you might come
in from New York. Seemed you were
here all the time. That's a good
one on me-a very good one"
The beating of Robby's heart was
more pronounced than it had been in
the deserted house. He asked HIM
self why he should shrink from this
stranger who had an air Of threat
ening him. The answer lay in that
black pit of last night and this
morning. UnQuestionably he had
been indiscreet The man would tell
him how.
You means he asked with dry
lips. that you've been looking for
me? Who are you? Please take
your hand off"
The strangers grasp frightened.
Not so fast, Mr.. Blackburn.
dare say you haven't just now come
from the Cedars?"
NO, no. I'm on my way to New
York. There's a train soon. I think"
His voice trailed away. The
strangers straight smile widened.
He commenced to laugh harshly and
uncouthly.
Sure there's a train, but you
don't want to take it. And why
haven't you been at the Cedars?
Grandpa's death grieved you too
much to go near his BODY"
Bobby drew back. The SHOCK rob-
bed him for a moment Of the power
TO reason. Dead! The old man.
How"
The strangers smile faded.
Here it is nearly O'Clock in the
afternoon. and you're all dressed up
for last night That's lucky"