New Britain herald., 1922-08-24

should give me such ample warning or your Intentions l do not under
 stand, unless 1t Is that you are, not
 wholly out of sympathy with me.
 But whether or not you sympa-
 thize, at any rate you will want to
 know-and l want you to know--the
 exact manner In which Ablett met his
 death and the reasons which made
 that death necessary. If the police
 have been told anything. would
 rather that they too knew the whole story. They, and even you. may call 1t murder, but by that time I shall
 be out of the way. Let them call 1t what they like.
 T must begin by taking you back to a summer day fifteen years ago, when I was boy of thirteen and
 Mark a young man of twenty-five. His whole life was make believe, and just now he pretending to be rhilanthropist.S
 He sat in our little drawing room, f,icking 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 I, hastily washed and crammed into col lars, 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 us, 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. went to public school and to Cambridge, and I became his secretary as your friend Beverley perhaps has told you. Mark could never live alone. There must always be somebody to listen to him. think in his heart he hoped l should be his Boswell. He told me one day that he had made me his literary executor--poor devil And he used to write me the .absurdest long letters when I was away from him, letters which I read once and then tore up. The futility of the man!
 Tt was three years ago that Philip got into trouble. He had been hur- ried through a cheap grammar school and into a London office, and dis covered there that there was not much fun to be got in this world on two pounds a week I had frantic let ter from him one day, saying that he must ahve a hundred at once. or he would be ruined. and I went to Mark for the money.
 "Only to borrow it, you under stand he gave me a good salary and could have paid it back in three months, But no. He saw nothing for himself in 1t, suppose; no ap- plause, no admiration. Philips grati- tude would be to me. not to him.
 'I begged threatened, we argued; and while we were arguing, Philip was arrested. It killed my mother-he was always her favorite--but Mark, as usual, got his satisfaction out of 1t. He preened himself on his Judgment Of character in having chosen me ana not Philip twelve years before!
 Later on I apologized to Mark for the reckless things I had said to him, and he played the part of a mag nanimous gentleman with his accus toned skill, but, though outwardly we were as before to each other, from that day forward, though his vanity would never let him see 1t, l vas his bitterest enemy.
 If that had been all, I wonder If I should have killed him? To live on terms of intimate friendship with n man whom you hate is dangerous work for your friend. Because of his belief in me as his admirlng ana grateful protege and his belief in hlm- self as my benefactor. he was no" utterly in my power. could take nv time and choose my opportunity. perhaps I should not have Killed hlm ,ut I had sworn to have my revenge md there he was, poor vain 1ooi' at nv mercy. I was in no hurry.
 1.-TWO years later I had to recon ,,der my position, for my revenge vas being taken out of my hanos' Mark began to drink. Could nave tonped him? I don't think so, put a my immense surprise found my II elf trying to. Instinct, perhaps get ing the better of my reason; or aid ( reason it out and tell myself that, Ii ,e drank himself to death, should ' ose my revenge? Upon my word { annot tell you; but, for whatever ( motive, I did genuinely want to stop ( t. Drinking is such beastly thing nyhow.
 (Continued in Our Next Issue)