New Britain herald., 1922-06-24
The Reason Madgc Felt Sorry For
 Allen Drake.

ITukt.
 The quarter Of an hour which m, father had named was not yet uI when l heard his low knock agair upon my door, l opened 1t quickly for l was wrought up to so high a nervous tension by the request he had necessary to me, and put out my hand to draw him inside the room.
 No, he said hurriedly. T want you to come with me 10 my room, at once. Allen is there, and-I am quiet anxious about him. You mustn't mind--ii he is bit hrusque He has been under a terrible physical and mental strain, l do not believe he has slept two hours out of the last forty-eight.
 His voice was low, but imperative, and his hand on my arm urged me along the corridor around the cor ner and down step to the quaint wing-eNldently an atterthough Of the house builder-whch is one of the oddly-charming things about the farmhouse we have bought. It con- tains three rooms, one of which we have fitted Up as q bath, another is my fathers, while the third is a guest room. especially well-suited to masculine occupancy.
 "She is Here, Allen"
 My father still has the luxurious tastes which he possessed when Broadway niCknaned him the "Ques- ter, and with the aid Of a specially built day-bed, and costly wonderfully fashioned screens, he has made his comm odious room with it's big fire place. into d sitting room, which car ries no betrayal that it is also bed room.
 Bookcases line the walls, huge soft ly-cushioned lounging chairs are set conveniently near them, as well as drawn close to the fire, And from the rare etchings and prints on the walls to the cabinet of curios from all parts of the world, there is no object which does not have some especial sig nlficance to him, some memory of the eyentful existence he has led.
 He turned the knob of his door softly. opened it, and stepped inside. Then as I almost unconsciously shrank 
 and drew c inside.
 As he turned from me to close it again l saw the figure of Allen Drake wrapped in a heavy dressing gown of Oriental stuff and extended in big arm chair by the fire. His slippered feet were resting on the fender, his whole body was suggestive of cold, a longing for warmth. His eyes were closed. His face was gray with eX- haustion. Indeed, so death-like did he look that I with difficulty sup pressed a little cry of alarm as I grasped my fathers arm. She is here. Allen,' my father said in low voice.
 For d long second there was no response from the motionless figure in the chair. Then the eyelids with their long womanish lashes lifted slowly as if by great effort, and Allen Drake's tired eyes looked into mine.
 A Key to Memory. You are very good,'' he said slow ly, and in neither voice nor eyes was there the slightest trace of the ar rogant mien, which had so antagonized | me. T have come to the end of my strength-and of my knowledge. Your father wishes to show one of l these papers to you--and he will ex- | plain to you about the others. I-I-l cannot" I have rarely seen such exhaustion l of mind and body in any one. I guessed that never before had Al l len Drake been compelled to confess l himself vanquished, and I could i'm | agine the terrific strain he had put | upon his powers of concentration and 1 deduction before he had given ID | And there was an indifferent hope lessness in his speech which showed l, how utterly useless he deemed my aid. ] He had closed his eyes again, and 1 my father motioned me to chair by | the reading table, which had been cleared of it's books and magazines, | and now held only a pad of blank paper pencils, many sheets of paper on which were letters and figures, and | the eyeglass case which the man Smith had left behind him upon the l occasion of his nocturnal visit to US. My fathers eyes followed mine to this object, and he spoke quickly, as if reading my thoughts. The contents of the case have