Evening star., 1921-10-19
The First Guest.

cally retracing his steps to the rail-
along the street He walked as
though he would outwalk his
thoughts-fast, Indifferent to all
about him. He clung stubbornly to
the fury in which he had sought
refuge. and which he had aroused
within himself against Millman. He
ciung to this tenaciously now. be-
cause he sensed a persistent attempt
on the part of some nwelcome and
unfamiliar other-self to argue the
pros and cons both of Millmans mo-
tives and Millman's acts: an attempt
that sought to introduce wedge of
doubt into his mind, that sought to
br1ng about a wavering of purpose,
with the insidious intent of robbing
him. if it could. of the reward that
was now within his grasp.
Within his grasp. He laughed out
sharply. as he hurried along. 1t was
literally within his grasp! The re-
ward was his now-his absolutely,
concretely. tangibly-the hundred
thousand dollars was in this inno-
cent-looking parcel that was at this
precise moment tucked under his
arm. He laughed out again. There
was enough in that one fact to oc-
cupy his mind and attention. and to
put to utter rout and confusion those
other thoughts that endeavored to
upon him. 1t shattered and swept
aside. as though by the waving Of
some magical wand, every mental
picture he had drawn of himself In
New York. every plan that he had
made for his sojourn here.
He had been prepared to spend
weeks and months of unceasing ef-
fort to run Millman to earth; he had
planned to rake the dens and dives
of the underworld. to live as one of
it's sordid and outlawed inhabitants,
if necessary. in order to get upon
Nillman's track: he had meant to
play Millman at his own game until
he had trapped Millman and the
final showdown came. And. instead,
he had scarcely been in New York an
hour, and he was walking now along
the street with the hundred thousand
dollars under his arm, with Millman
no longer a vicious and stealthy an
tagonist to be foiled and fought
wherever he might be found-with
nothing to do now but spend or en-
ploy this money under his arm as his
fancy or his judgment dictated. free
of all hindrance or restraint, for
Millman was no longer source OF
danger or concern. and Dave Hender-
son was dead to the world in general
and to the police in particular, and
that left Barty Lynch as the unfet-
tered possessor of one hundred thou
sand dollars!
Millman had given him a month.
and-ah! he was back on that tack,
was he? He clcnched his hand. No!
A month represented time. and it was
time i'll n purely abstract way that lie
was considering now: it had nothing
to do with Millman, or Millman's
month" 1t would take time to
make new plans and new arrange
ments. He did not intend to act
hastily.
brutally hard road not to realize
the worth of every cent OF il. He
needed time now to think out the fu-
ture carefully. He was not fool-to
scatter that money to the winds. \
thousand times in prison he had
edge that in the returns from that
sum of money lay independence for
life. That was what he had taken 1t
for in the first place! It meant, safe
ly invested. a minimum of five thou
sand dollars q year. He could get
five Thousand year! He had only
now to decide where and how he
should invest that money, and he
needed now only the time to arrive at
that decision without any undue
haste that might afterward be bit
lcTly EcSICtlCo ouiO IC BO "
Australia, or to South America. for
example. and begin life anew there
as a gentleman of Independent
means? Or somewhere in Europe,
perhaps? 1t needed time now to
make this decision, and. as a natural
corollary, a temporary abode was re-
quired, an abode where he could feel
quite secure, both as regards his
money. and as against any eleventh.
hour trick of fate that might dis
close his identity and spill the fat
into the fire.
Well, he had had that latter prob
lem solved for him from the first,
hadn't he? There was Dago Georges;
and in his pocket was Nicolo Ca
priano's letter that was an open
sesame" to Dago Georges hospitality,
and, more vital still, to Dago Georges
fidelity. He was going there now, as
soon as he got his dress-suit case
again grom the station, which now
doomed ahead of him down the block.
His thoughts reverted to Nicolo
Capriano. and from the old italian.
to the old Italians daughter. Teresa!
He had not forgotten Teresa! Again
and again, in those jolting boxcars,
and during his flight from San Fran
cisco. there had come a mental pic
ture In which those fearless eyes had
met his, and he had seen her smile
and watched the color mount and
crimson her face as 1t had done on
that OCCASION when he had first seen
her. -.
CONTINUED in Tomorfow's Star.)