The Washington herald., 1920-09-25

Blythe walked to the next cor
ner and stood there while he
brushed the sand from his gar
ments and repolished his glasses.
I've got to do it-oh, I've got to
do it," he told himself, aloud. IF
had quart OF rum l believe l
could stave II off yet--for a little
while. But there's no more rum for
'Beelzebub,' as they call me. BY
the flames of Tartarus! If I'm to|
sit at the right hand of Satan some
body has got to pay the court eX-
penses. You'll have to pony up,
Mr.. Frank Goodwin. You're a
good fellow; but a gentleman
must draw the line at being
kicked into the gutter. Blackmail
isn't pretty word. but it's the
next station on the road I'm trav-
cling"
With purpose in his steps
Blythe now moved rapidly through
the town by way OF it's landward
envirOns. He passed through the
squalid quarters of the improvi-
dent negroes and on beyond the
picturesque shacks OF the poorer
mestiZOs. From many points
along his course he could see,
through the outrageous Elades,
the house of Frank Goodwin on
its wooded hill. And as he crossed
the little bridge over the lagoon
he saw the old Indian, Galvez.
scrubbing at the wooden slab that
bore the name of Mirafores. Be-
yond the lagoon the lands of
Goodwin began to slope gently up
ward. A grassy road. shaded by
a munitiCent and diverse array of
tropical fora wound from the
edge of an outlying banana grove
to the dwelling. Blythe took this
road with long and purposeful
strides.
Goodwin was seated on his cool
est gallery, debating letters to his
secretary, Il saIlow and capable
native youth. The household ad-
hered to the American plan Of
breakfast: and that meal had been
thing of the past for the better
part of an hour.
The Castaway walked to the
steps, and fourished a hand.
Good morning, Blythe" said
Goodwin, looking up. Come in
and have chair. Anything 1 can
do for you?"
"1 want to speak to you in
private"
Goodwin nodded at his secre-
tary, who strolled out under a
mango tree and lit cigarette,
Blythe took the chair that he had
left vacant.
Il want some money" he be-
gan. doggedly.
I'm sorry" said Goodwin, with
equal direCtness, but you can't
have any. You're drinking your
self to death. Blythe Your friends
have done all they could to help
you to brace up. You won't help
yourself. There's no use furnish
ing you with money to ruin your
self with any longer"
Dear man." said Blythe, tilt
ing back his chair, 1T isn't a
question of social economy now.
It's past that. 1 like you, Good
win; and I've come to stick knife
between your ribs. I was kicked
out of Espada's saloon this morn
ing; and society owes me repara-
tion for my wounded feelings"
Il didn't kick you out"
mo; but in a general way you
represent society; and in a par
ticular way you represent my
last chance. I've had to come
down to it, old mani tried to do
1t a month ago when Losada's
man was here turning things
over; but I couldn't do ii then.
Now it's different I want a.
thousand dollars. Goodwin: and
you'll have to give it to me-"
Only last week" said Good
win, with a smile. "a silver dollar
was all you were asking for"
"An evidence" said Blythe.
fiippantly. that I was still yir-
tuous-though under heavy pres
sure. The wages of sin should