New-York tribune., 1920-08-01

| he helped 10 roll up tile S'eeVoS VI
the dressing gown. He brought a
pair of bath slippers. "That's the
best we can do"
Barney nodded. II guess | was
struck by lightnin'," he volunteered.
"Were you?" Whately replied
cheerfully "Tell us about it down
stairs. Aren't you hungry"
"Gee!" Barney sighed. Hungry
"Come along then"
They came downstairs to the liv-
ing room together, and Mary Lang
ton included them both in her af-
fectionate air of greeting. She put
one hand on Barney's shoulder as
she led him to the table, patting him
as if he were a child. He was a
child, forthwith. Instinctively, quite
without craft, and almost uncon-
scious of the fact that he was act
ing a part, he became an ingenious
youngster without trace of guile.
"Did you sleep well?" Mary asked
Barney.
"I don't remember" he said-and
joined in their amusement naively
unabashed.
He stared around at the room like
an interested infant. 1t was All i'm
mense room, full of sunlight and
color, and the table was set at one
end in an alcove of windows that
looked out on the valley far below.
The sight Of the fruit piled in a
great wicker tray in the center Of
the table took his eyes and held them.
II haven't had anything to eat since"
it seemed ages" since I don't
know when"
"Help yourself, Barney" she said
as they sat down, "to the fruit.
And tell us how you got here"
He reached an orange, bit a
wound in it-transparently embar-
rassed-and began to skin it with
his fingers! "He-he lef' me on the
train," he said, 'fer minute, an I
jumped nm beat tn piked up
the road-till | got here"
"Who left you on the train?"
Whately asked.
! He looked up furtively at old
Annie, who was bringing in the
coffee. "The detective,' he said.
"What did the detective want you
for?"
"Nothin'. 1T was my brother
done it, N they got him, but l got
away-t' Oswego. N l wrote home
to my mother. NJ guess that's how
they foun' out where | was"
"And you hadn't done anything
wrong at all, had you, Barney?" she
asked.
Barney gave her the gaze of utter
innocence. "No en-
Whately eyed him. This was not
the troubled, silent face that he had
watched upstairs. How did you
get the other handcuff .off?"
"They don't put 'em onto both yer
hands. He puts one onto your wrist
an one onto his. He took his off
when he lef' me in the car fer a
minute :, n I broke it off the
chain with couple O. stones-after
l got away"
Don't bother him now, DEAR" she
said, family. Hes hungry"
Whately saw her pale look of dis
tress. "What's the matter?"
81 don't like to hear of-hand
cuffs" she said.
"Oh."
And Barney understood. For the
first time he realized what he was
going to do to her when he gave the
signal to Careyville that Whately
was in the bungalow. He looked
aside, out the window, and saw the
white frame houses Of the village
among the trees in the valley.
"That's Careyville," she explained.
"Who lives in the big house? The
one with the peak in the middle?"
'It's the summer hotel.'
He had guessed as much. He
could see the window, in that central
gable, behind which an operative sat
with field glasses, watching the bun
galow. He returned to his plate
Whately asked: where are you
going from here?"
at doesn't cut much ice where I
60" Barney answered. "They'll get
me-"
Barney gathered that he was
camping in the woods near by, but the
location of the camp was not indi-
Gated. They began to talk about the
news that they had read in the pre-