The Birmingham age-herald., 1921-07-02
CHAPTER TWELVE The Better Way

are mornin paper Laura fls . gle-um murder! Yare!" The voices of the newsboys sound ed harsh and strident in the early day. It was indeed a big story--a regular front page one.
 Old Karl stood listening with a wild look in his gentle eyes, for had he not seen his child Pauline in that woman's clothes playing her part? There was only one thing he could do-find out the truth and try to help her if possible. He burst out of the house on a dead run, right h the midst of a sentence from Mrs. Shaughnessy, much to that lady'1 wrath.
 Sure them Huns has no manners at all! Is he crazy now?" she sniffed.
 In the city prision Pauline had been allowed to see Jimmy Dorn in the matron's room.
 How can I ever prove myself inno- cent? Who will believe mel" This awful question rang over and over again in Paulines overtaxed brain. It was wonderful to see Jimmy, to feel his strong arms around her, as she sobbed out the whole miserable story on his shoulder, while he strok- ed her hair and kissed and soothed her as he might child.
 Then you are not Laura Figlan, sweetheart? Thank God!"
 Tremulously Pauline questioned him with her eyes and her lips, and Jim my answered:
 T want you to be just yourself clean, unsullied-my girl-my wife Oh, if you knew what I suffered when saw that man go to your dressing f~ ~1 tvI will come out some way-everything will be right"
 But how can we find her in this big city?' sobbed Pauline. And Jim my, though outwardly brave for her sake, looked through the barred win dows with a feeling of utter help lessness.
 Meanwhile the object of their thoughts crouched on wretchod cot in a room of the most proverty stricken description in the slums. She was reading the latest edition Of yellow sheet, whose huge black and red letters screamed it's headline:
 LAURA FIGLAN HELD FOR |MURDERw
 Great Actress in Murder Case"
 Laura Figlan Held in Killing!
 She fell back on the wretched bed in an ecstasy of evil mirth. chuck ling: Stole my name, eh? Kick me in the gutter, eh? We'll see who laughs last, you
 Suddenly in the midst of her en- joyment her eyes fell on a paragraph in bolder type, clung to it and read;
 "An interesting fact disclosed from the police records of the great ac- tress' arrest is that Laura Figlan IS not her real name, nor is she French. ,ol,f ic PanIina Stevens and she was born in Weaver's Falls, Mass"
 The room seemed to fade before her suddenly tired eyes. It dissolved into an orphan asylum. A little curly haired girl with big eyes was begging her for a kiss.
 My baby! My own little girl! She did not die, then!" she moaEed. And then as a fierce ache went through her heart. "Morty, for all l ever dih to you, you have paid me back her dry lips formed the words, ending ffercely, ''and for all you have done to me and mine, may your soul rot in he'll"
 She took the little oval portrait of the child once more out of her rags and kissed 1t. Then, gripped by vast and awful despair, she mur- mured hoarsely:
 My little one-at iast-A a.n u ing the right thing by you. Goodby you will never know"
 In the course of time the wretcheo lodgers smelt gas in the halls anu finally reached the policeman on the heat and made him break in. Laura lay dead on her rickety cot. piece of wrapping paper was pinned to her rags. On it she had scrawled:
 "To the police: I am Fay McMilian. I killed Dan Crawford because he ruined and deserted me in London. Knowing my story, Miss Figlan ai- lowed me to escape, intending to tell