Evening star., 1921-10-14
(Continued from Yesterdays Starr

| A right. IL WAS soQuatS
Kelly" said Dave Henderson quietly
and recounted briefly the details OF
his visit to the Pacific Coral saloon
the night before.
Nicolo Capriano had propped him-
self up in bed He leaned over now
as Dave Henderson finished. and pat
ted Dave Henderson's shoulder III
sort of exultant excitement
:, Good! Excellent" he exclaimed.
"Ah. my young friend. begin 10 ipne e
you, 1t brings back the years that
are gone. But-bah.-I shall get well well
again-eh? And l am not yet 700
oId-eh? Who can tell-eh:
can tell. We would be invincible. you ,s
and I. and" n. checked h'mseii aaSes
yes he said. We'll. then. as far as
money is concerned. you are supplied:
but f.iends-eh:-are sometimes more
important than money. You nave
found that out already-eh: Listen
friend in New York whom YOU can
trust-and promise you he Will STOP
at nothing to carry out my ORDERS.
You understand? His name is Georges
Vardi. but he is commonly knoMn af az
Dago George: and he. too. was one OF
somewhere to go. He keeps little
| hotel. very quiet little hotei on
/, the Bowery. not far from 'hath
Square. Any one will tell You there
! WneEe 10 uHu baoo NA>o' o.
| derstand?
yes" said Dave Henderson.
! Nicolo Capriano motioned hls
| daughter abruptly to small table on
the opposite side OF the IL, oed, ia,,sr and
put it in Italian he said. as she
seated herself at the table. Il do not
write as easily as l used TO- InsS IH,iS
say old Nicolo is a sick man. Wen.
maybe that is so. but OLD Nieoios .s
I oil 16
| fingers can at least still sign his
name-and that is enough. Ha. ha II
is good to be alive again. Wen lie m.
waved his hand again toward ms
! idaughter-"are you ready, my llt'ie
! one?"
"Yes, father" she answered
| ITO Dago George. then" he said.
! ''First-my affectionate salutat'ons.
! Her pen scratched rapidly over the
| paper She looked up.
YES. father?"
| Nicolo Capriano's hngers piucheu d
| You will say that the bearer of
! this letter-ah, Yes" He turned with
a whimsical smile 10 Dave Henderson.
| You must have name. eh. my young
friend-since Dave Henderson is dead.
We shall not tell Dago George every.
thing. Fools alone tell all they kno"
What shall it be-"
Dave Henderson shrugged MS shoui-
ders.
Anything he said. 1T doesn't
matter. One is as good as another
Make it Barty Lynch"
Yes, that will do. Good" Nicolo
Capriano gestured with ms hahm IA
his daughters direction again. You
will say that the bearer of this let
ter is Barty Lynch. and that he is TO
be treated as though he We're Nicolo
Capriano himself You understand
INV little one? Anything that he
| ri 7 SirnIo (saDrlanO,
will be responsible. Tell him. my lit
tie one, that it is Nicolo Capriano'
order-and that Nicolo Capriano ma
vet to be disobeyed. And particularly
you will say that ii our Young TREND
here requires any help by those who
/ know how to do what they are told
and ask no questions. the men are
to be supplied. You understand
Teresa"
write it. then" he said: And see see
that Dago George is left with no
doubt in his mind that he is at the
command Of our young friend here.
| Teresa'S pen scratched rapidlE
again across the paper.
Nicolo Capriano was at his inter-
minable occupation of plucking at the
Dave Henderson pushed his hand
through his hair in curiously alb
stracted sort Of way. There seemed
| to be something strangely and sud
denly unreal about all this-about
this man. with his cunning brain.
who lay here in this queer four
poster bed; about that trim little hg-
ure. who bent over the table there.
and whose profile only now was IN
view the profile of sweet. womanly
jface that somehow now seemed to be
livery earnest. for he could see the reiiec-
tion of a puckered brow in the little
ao.+ ~ r,rinkles at the corner of her
No. there wasn't anything unreal
about her She was very real
He remembered her as she had stood
last night on the threshold there, ana
when in the lighted doorway he had
seen her for the first time. He would
never forget that-nor the smile that
had followed the glorious fiod Of color
lighted up her eyes, and that had for
given him for his unconscious rude
ness. AZ,
| That wasn't what was unreal All
! that would remain living and vibrant.
a picture that would endure, and that
| the years would not dim. 1t was un-
real that in the space OF a Few MIN
! utes more everything here would have
vanished forever out Of his existence
this room with it's vaguely foreign
, air. this four-poster bed with It's
strange occupant. whose mental vi
| icaI weakness, that simmer figure
there bending over the table. whose
masses of silken hair seemed to curl
and cluster in a sort OF proudly IN
innate affection about the arched.
shapely neck, whose shoulders were
nodded in soft yielding lines that
somehow invited the lingering touch
| of a hand If one but had the right.
| His hand pushed its way again
( through his hair. and fumbled a lit
| tie helplessly across his eyes. And,
| too. it was more than that that was
unreal A multitude Of things SEEM
ed unreal-the years in the peniten-
tiary during which he had racked his
brain for a means Of eluding the police.
racked it until it had become a physical
agony to think. were now dispelled by
J this man here, and with such ease that.
/ as an accomplished. concrete fact. his
mind somehow refused to accept it as
SUCH He was dead. It was very
strange. very curious! He sank back
| vista of New York-not as a tangible
thing of great streets and vast edi-
! fees, but as a mecca of his aspira-
tions now almost within his grasp.
as an arena where he could stand un-
leashed, and where the iron Of five
years that had entered his soul
should have a chance to vent itself
Millman was there! There seemed to
come an unholy joy creeping upon
| him. Millman was there-and he.
Dave Henderson, was dead. and In
| Dave Henderson's place would be a
man in that arena who had friends
now at his back. who could laugh at
the police. Millman! He felt the blood
sweep upward to his temples; he
heard his knuckles crack. as his hand
clenched in a fierce. sudden surge Of
fury Millman! Yes. the way was