Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1920-01-31

| the others were beyond the range Of
his voice. Miss Durant! I said he
sent NO word to you; that was true az
far a. knew tho truth. but there's
one letter he started to write--just at
the last =. II wasn't addressed to
snyons: I didn't knew vhs II Was for.
brought It with me on he chance
that I'd fad out. didn't want to
speak Of II before every one, because
n IT'S yours ! thought you'd
you understand. don't your Tn almost
positive Il was meant for you. It's
only. a few hines :. he wasn't ever
strong. enough to finish II I've
got II at the hotel now. May ! bring
II to you tomorrow"
She held her breath for an instant:
her mouth ,quiYered. She looked at
him searchingly., rs,
on the corner, Mr.. billiard. The brick
house. Can, you come early?"
| "How soon?" He was telling him
self that his former passions were
atrophied; she was no longer able to
disquiet him. His inspiration was
commercial-strictly commercial.
IN the morning? AT eleyen?'
I'm come gladly"
"And =. and I want to thank you
now" she said In tone which would
have fallen as blessing upon the ears
Of any other man alive, for speaking
as though you loved him. And for
all you did for him. Perhaps You
know already . perhaps you can't
know but I'm trying to tell you,
because he was -. he was one of
my very dearest friends"
His brain snapped; he bent down
to her.
You loved him---too?" ne said, w
controllably.
/ Eyes," she said. "Once-I loved him.
too"
80
Alone In the appointed guest room
of the Cullen home--for Mr.. Cullen
had been as good as his word, and
sent car to fetch his visitors be-
Iongings-Hilliard lighted cigarette
ian acquired taste. but advisable as a
minor deception. since he had been
notorious for his taste in cigars) and
grinned expansively. Leisurely he be-
gan to undress. but before his shoes
were quite unlaced. he sat back COM
fortably in his chair and meditated.
"All serene so far" he said. But
when Carol came in :" He shook
his head vigorously. "Well. it's over
llard's face darkened. There's the
man want to get at. Pious old hypo-
critic! And he didn't think deserved
to be in the family! Sort Of hate to
let him make money out Of this deal,
but it's all in the game. Goals Of fire.
But ten thousands lot from the doc
| tor . We'll say ten thousand"
He closed his eyes dreamily: and
his thoughts reverted from Doctor
Durant to the doctors daughter.
"Carol-Carol !" heSmurmured. "Onc
| minute there, thought I'd crack. And
I was one of her dearest friends
| was. was +? And she loved me-once.
| Once! Pity 1t wasn't twice! Pity she
and the doctor didn't say so the night
they kicked me out so neatly. Well,
!. business Is business f. After
they've made their money out Of II.
| and found out this man billiards.
! some little god-plated whirlwind all
| by himself :. I. Cad can't see their
| faces when they get the truth of it."
With the cigarette dropping from his
| lips. he stood up and swept clear
| space in the table. From his suitcase
| he exhumed a tablet of thin transpar-
| ent writing paper of kind not sold in
America; It was the paper on which
| the letter to Cullen from Richard Nor
| gan had been written. and it was sheer
luck that Hilliard had brought the re-
mainder Of the, tablet from New Torl;
from his fountain pen and inspected it
critically.
"Too black" he decided. and went to
the bathroom, where he half-enptied
the reservoir Of the pen and refilled, it
with water.
AA1l OoSht " JuSl dppul iiSlit
:. sort OF pale and mysterious and
war-strength.'
He seated himself at the table. took
the pen. in his left hand and inscribed
circles on the paper; scrubbed a
meaningless. sentence and laughed
gently.
dummy how some people can be
ambidextrons and take so long to
realize it. If hadn't caught bullet
in my arm, and tried to write left
handed in the hospital, I'd give myself
Away up here in no time. Writings
! too blamed distinctive. But. as 1t is,
Left Hand, very large and plain, is
Henry HiIliard--"i Here he shifted
the pen to the other hand--"And
Right-and, small and curicue is
poor, dead D!cky Morgan-..one of her
dearest friends I'm glad killed that
chap off-he never amounted to a hill
Of beans anyway. But this Hilliard
persona live wire, boy, live wire!"
And with grin of sardonic humor.
he wrote on the dimsy paper, slowly
and little irregularly, as though In
physical discomfort:
"Neuilly, 7-l9-15.
mo matter what you ever think, no
matter what you have ever thought,
have loved you"
He grimaced. pondered diligently,
and made correction.
II have always loved you more than
my own life. You said my ideals had
fallen--flo yOu think 40 now7 I don't