The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1922-05-19

Hei sweetness almost broke him
down. This -. togetheri Think
this outl Oh, it's plain enough, isn't
1t? For years-for as long as Wassa-
guam has been here, my father has
been seeing that man and paying
blackmail to him twice year, at
least! He lived In that mans power.
He kept money In the house for him
always! 1t wasn't anything imaginary
that hung over my father-or anything
created in his own mind. 1t was some
thing real-real; 1t was disgrace-dis-
grace and worse something he de-
served; and that he fought with black
mail money, like a coward DishonOr
owardice-blackmail
She drew little nearer to him.
''You didn't want me to know" she
said. "You tried to put me off when
called you on the telephone; and
when / came here, you wanted me to
go away before l heard. Why didn't
you want me to know? If he was your
father, wasn't he our-friend? Mine
and my fathers? You must let us
help YOU"
AS she approached, he had drawn
back from her. "No; this is miner he
denied her. Not yours or your ia
theirs. You have nothing to do with
this. Didn't he try in little cowardly
ways to keep you out of it? But he
couldn't do that; your friendship
meant too much to him; he couldn't
keep away from you. But CAM can
do that! You must go out of this
house; you must never come in here
againi I"
Her eyes filed as she watched him I;
never had she liked him so much as
now.
Il thought" he said almost wistful-
ly, sit seemed to me that, whatever he
had done, it must have been mostly
against me. His leaving everything to
me seemed to mean that was the one
that he had wronged, and that he was
trying to make it up to me. But 1t
isn't that; it can't be that 1t is some
thing much worse than that -.
Oh, I'm glad / haven't used much OF
his money! Hardly any-not more
than l can give backl 1t wasn't the
money and the house he left me that
mattered; what he really left me was
just this dishonor, shame I. ~
The doorbell rang, and Alan turned
to the door and threw it open. In the
dusk the figure of the man outside was
NOT of oil roooUpi1ahIo. hrt oS ho on
tered with heavy and deliberate steps.
passing Alan without greeting and
going straight to Constance, Alan saw
by the light in the hall that 1t was
Spearman.
whats up?" Spearman asked.
'They tried to get your father at the
office and then me- but neither of us
was there. They got me afterward,
at the club. They said you'd come
over here; but that must have been
more than two hours ago."
His gaze went on past her to the
drawn hangings of the room to the
right; and he seemed to appreciate
their significance; for his face whit
ened under it's tan, and an odd hush
came suddenly upon him.
as it Ben, CONNER" he whispered.
ben come back?"
He drew the curtains partly open.
The light in the library had been ex-
tinguished. and the light that came
from the hall swayed about the room
with the movement of the curtains and
gave momentary semblance of life
to the face of the man upon the couch.
Spearman drew the curtains quickly
together again, still holding to them
and seeming for an instant to cling to
them; then he shook himself together,
threw the curtains wide apart, and
strobe into the room. He switched on
the light and went directly to the
couch; Alan followed him.
"He's-dead?"
"Who is he?" Alan demanded.
Spearman seemed to satisfy himself
first as to the answer to his question.
How should 1 know who he is?' he
asked. There used to be wheelsman