The Daily Ardmoreite. [volume] (Ardmore, Okla.) 1893-current, 1922-09-14

him.
knew the whole story. They, and even
you, may call it murder, but by that
time | shall be out of the way Let them
call it what they like.
II must begin by taking you back to
summer day fifteen years ago. when
| was boy thirteen and Mark q young
man of twenty-five. His whole life was
make believe, and just now he was pre-
tending to be a philanthropist.
"He sat in our little drawing room,
flicking his gloves against the back of
his left hand, and my mother. good soul
thought what a noble young gentleman
he was. and Philip and L. hastily wash
ed and crammed into collars. stood in
front of him, nudging each other and
kicking the backs OF our heels and
cursing him in our hearts for having
interrupted our game.
He had decided to adopt one of u.s.
kind Cousin Mark. Heaven knows why
he chose me. Philip was eleven; two
years longer to wait, Perhaps that was
why.
well. Mark educated me. l went TO
a public school and to Cambridge. and
| became his secretary. Wei, much
more than his secretary as your friend
Beverley perhaps has told you. Mark
could never live alone. There must al
ways be somebody t. listen TO him.
| think in his heart he hoped ! should
A.. A, 10 Ill 10 ha
he had made me his literary executor
poor devil. And he used 20 write me
the absurdest long letters when | was
away from him, letters which | read
once and then tore up. The futility OF
the man.
1T was three years ago that Philip
got into trouble. lie had been hurried
through n cheap grammar school and
into London office. and discovered
there that there was not much fun to
be got in this world on two pounds q
week | had frantic letter from him
one day, saying that he must have a
hundred at once or he would be ruined
and went TO Mark for the money.
"Only TO borrow 1t, you understand
he gave me n good salary and | coulC
have paid II back In three months. But
no. lie saw nothing for himself In 1t
| suppose; no applause, no admiration
Philips gratitude would be to me, moi
to him.
Il begged, threatened We argued
and while we were arguing Philip was
arrested. II killed my mother-he wa'
always her favoritc-but Mark. as us
ual, got his satisfaction out OF It. IL,
preened himself on his judgment o
character in having chosen me and no
Philip twelve years before!
Later apologizcd to Mark for tht
reckles things l had said to him, ant
he played the part OF magnanimou
gentleman with his accustomed skill
but, though outwardly we We're as be
fore to each other from that day for
ward, though his vanity would neve
let him see Il. was his bitterest enemy
III that had been all | wonder II
should have killed him. To live oi
terms Of intimate friendship with maj
whom you hate is dangerous work 70
| NOuI lIltUus ttduSt VI MS itlitl lll W
= as his admring and grateful proteg
and his belief In himself as my ben,
factor, he was now utterly In my pow
er. could take my time and choos
my opportunity. Perhaps | should no
have killed him. but | had sworn {
have my revenge-and there he wa'
poor vain fool. at my mercy. wa
In no hurry.
Two years later had to reconsldc
my position, for my revenge was bein
taken out OF my hands. Mark bega
to drink. Could have stopped him
don't think so. but to my immens
surprise found myself trying to- II
stinct, perhaps. getting the better ,
reason. or did I reason II out and te
: myself that. IL he drank himself I
I death, | should lose my revenge Upo
my word. | cannot tell you; but fc
whatever motive, | did genuinely war
e to stop II. Drinking is such "a beastl
E thing. anyhow.
. CONTINUED In nur next issuel
Il