The Holbrook news., 1922-09-22

the gummy resistance of the knob as Fairchild turned 1t In accordance with the directions on the paper. Finally, great wrench, and the bolt was drawn grudgingly back; a strong pull, and the safe opened.
 Fairchild crouched for a moment. staring, before he reached for the thinner of two envelopes which lay before him. X moment later he straightened and turned toward the light. A crinkling of paper, a quick drawn sigh between clenched teeth: 1t was a letter; his strange. quiet, hunted-appearing father was talking to him through the medium of ink and paper, after death. He read:
 My Son:
 Before I begin this letter to you I must ask that you take no action whatever until you have seen my at- tOrney-he will be yours from now on. l have never mentioned him to you before; 1t was -Ot necessary and would only have brought you curiosity which I could not have satisfied. But now, l am afraid, the doors must be unlocked. am gone. You are young, you have been a faithful son and you are deserving of every good fortune that may possibly come to you. I am praying that the years have made a difference, and that Fortune may smile upon you as she drowned on me. Certainly, she can injure m no longer. My race Is run; I am beyond earthly fortunes.
 Therefore, when you have finished with this, take the deeds inclosed in the larger envelope and go to St. Louis. There, look up Henry F. Beam- ish, attorney-at-law, in the Princess building. He will explain them to you.
 Beyond this, I fear. there is little that can aid you. I cannot find the strength, now that I face it, to tell you what you may find if you follow the lure that the other envelope holds forth to you.
 There is always the hope that For tune may be kind to me at last, and smile upon my memory by never let ting you know why I have been the sort of man you have known, and not the jOvial, genial companion that father should be. But there are cer- tain things, my son, which defeat a man. Therefore is 1t not better that it remain behind cloud until such time as Fortune ray reveal it-and hope that such a time will never come? l think so-not for myself, for when you read this, I shall be gone; but for you, that you may not be han dicapped by the knowledge of the thing which whitened my hair and aged me, long before my time.
 If he lives, and l am sure he does. there is one who will hurry to your aid as soon as he knows you need him. Accept his eounsels, laugh at his little eccentricities if you will, but follow his judgment implicitly. Above all, ask him no questions that he does not care to answer-there are things that he may not deem wise to tell
 "There is little more to say. Beam- ish will attend to everything for you If you care to go. Sell everything that is here; the house. the furniture, the belongings. It is my wish, and you will need the capital-if you go. And if circumstances should arise to bring before you the story of that which has caused me so much dark ness. I have nothing to say in self extenuatiOn. I made one mistake that of fear-and in committing one error. I shouldered every blame. It makes little difference now. I am dead-and free.
 My love to you, my son. I hope that wealth and happiness await you. Blood of my blood flows ;n your veins and strange though it may sound to you-it is the blood of an adventurer. They say. once in the blood, 1t never dies. My wish is that you succeed where I failed-and God be with you
 YOUR FATHER"
 For long moment Robert Fairchild stood staring at the letter his heart