The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1920-11-13

cut on his forehead plastered. And
learned from the legal records and old
newspapers that there was a lawsuit
threatened, and begun at least by one
/ Green against the Duke of Exeter.
have made an astounding discovery.
1 freely confess it is quite different
from anything I expected to discover,
and will give a much more practical
shock to the public. venture to say.
without any vanity, that the words
now write will be read all over Europe,
and certainly all over America and the
colonies. And yet, heard all l have
to tell before l left this same little
wooden table in this same little wood
lof apple trees.
| : ] owe it all to the small priest Brown.
He is an extraordinary man.
The big librarian had left the table,
perhaps ashamed of his long tongue.
perhaps anxious about the storm in
(which his mysterious master had van
lished; anyway, he betook himself heav-
lily in the dukes track through the
trees. Father Brown had picked up
one of the lemons and was cycling it
with an odd pleasure.
What lovely color lemon isl" he
said. There's one thing l don't like
about the dukes wig-the color
Il don't think I understand" an
swered.
Il dare say he's got good reason to
cover his ears like King Midas" went
on the priest; with a cheerful simplicity
that somehow seemed rather f1ippant
in the circumstances. Il can quite I'M
derstand that it's nicer to cover them
with hair than with brass plates or
leather flaps. But, if he wants to use
hair, why doesn't he make it look like
hair? There never was hair of that
color in this world. 1t looks more like
a sunset cloud coming through a wood
Why doesn't he conceal the family
curse better if he's really so ashamed
of it1 Shall tell you? It's because
he isn't ashamed of it. He's proud OF
it."
IT'S an ugly wig to be proud Of
and an ugly story" I said.
Consider" replied this curious little
man, how you yourself really fee
about such things. dom, suggest
you're either more snobbish or more
morbid than the rest of us; but don't
lyou feel, in vague way, that gen
uine old family curse is rather fine
thing to have? Would you be ashamed
wouldn't you be little proud-if the
heir of the Glanhs horror called you
his friend, or if Byron's family had
conhded, to you only, the evil adyen-
lures of their race? Don't be too hard
on the aristocrats themselves if theii
{ heads are as weak as ours would be
: and they are snobs about their own
I sorrows"
t by JoveT cried, "and that's true
S enough. My own mothers family had
e a Banshee; and, now l come to think
y lof it, it has comforted me in many a
S cold hour"
e "And think" he went on, "of that
:. stream of blood and poison that spurted
g from his thin lips the instant you so
Y much as mentioned his ancestors. Why
e should he show every stranger over
Y such chamber of horrors unless he is
e proud of it? He doesn't conceal his
/; wig. he doesn't conceal his blood, he
| doesn't conceal his family curse, he
: doesn't conceal the family crimes
E but"
The little mans voice changed so
suddenly, he shut his hand so sharply.
E and his eyes so rapidly grew rounder
: and brighter, like waking evils, thai
. it had all the abruptness of small ex-
plosion on the table.
a But" he ended, 'he docs really COR
: eeal his toilet
1t somehow completed the thrill of
my fanciful nerves that at that instant
the duke appeared again silently among
the glimmering trees. with his soft foot
and sunset-hued hair. coming round the
r corner of the house in company with
e his Librarian. Before he came within
earshot. Father Brown had added, quite
{; composedly: "Why does he really hide
the secret Of what he does with The
purple wigf Because it isn't the sort
' of secret We suppose"
E The dixie came around The corner, and
resumed his seat at the head of the
;, table with all his native dignity. The
embarrassment of the Librarian left him
I lowering on bis hind legs. like huge
bear. The duke addressed the priest
With great seriousness.
( Father Brown" he said, DIR. Null
t informs me thar you have come here to
4 make request. no longer profess an
y observance of the religion of my faith
: ers; but for their sakes. and for the
c sake of the Gays when we met before.