Evening star., 1923-12-01

mons suite, and, taking the elevator,
went UP to his own room in the Bayne-
Miloy Hotel, two floors above. Here he
flung himself almost wearily into q
chair. Lar1non had gone to bed. but bed
offered no appeal to him. John Bruce,
In spite Of the fact that he was con-
scious of great mental fatigue Bed
| without sleep was a horror. and his
even possibility.
From a purely selfish standpoint, and
| he admitted to utter selfishness now, it
had been a hollow victory. Crang was
gone, disposed of, and as far as Larmon
was concerned the man no longer
existed, for IL Crang had held certain
over Lannon's head, Larmon was now
IN exactly the same position in respect
70 Crang. And Crang, too, for the time
oeing at least, was no longer a factor
In Claire's life.
He smiled grimly to himself Hol-
low! The victory had been sweeping,
complete, conclusive-for every one
but himself! He had not even waited
70 leave the dock before he had tele-
phoned Claire. And Claire had
He rose suddenly and began to walk
| Ieverishly up and down the room.
Hollow! He laughed out shortly She
had curtly refused to talk to him.
ne mad only meant to telephone to
house. and he had managed to say
that much-and she had coIdly, con-
temptuously informed him that she
would not be at home and had hung
UP the receiver. She had given him
no opportunity to say any more.
1t was not like Claire. 1t had been
SO unexpected that he had left the
dock mentally daZed. The sight of the
liner out in the stream had seemed
to mock him ironically. After that
uhtlt now. he had followed the line of
least resistance. He had come back
here to the hotel and dined with Lar
mon.
He stood still in the middle of the
room. Larmon. II had been a singu-
lar evening that he had just spent
with Larmon. He had got new view
point on Larmon-a strange, grave
sympathetic Larmon. He had given
Larmon the details of everything that
hiTa han happened. and Larmon had led
MIN on to talk-of everything and
anything, 1t seemed now as he looked
back upon it. And. somehow, he could
not tell why. even while he felt that
Larmon was drawing him out, urging
MN even TO speak Of Claire and the
most intimate things of the last few
weeks, he had been glad to respond
IL was only when Larmon for a. little
while had discussed his great chain
OF gambling houses that he, John
Eruce, had felt curiously detached
other. as though he We're masouerad-
ing as some one else, as some one
whom Larmon believed to be John
Bruce. and as though he in his true
seIr mad no interest in these matters
any longer in personal sense, as
though his connection with them had
automatically ceased with the climax
or Crang's removal. 1t was queer.
BUT then his mind had been OBJ
he had been frank with Larmon-
frank enough to admit the feelings
that had prompted him to refrain
from actual play only two nights be-
tore. He remembered the quick little
tattoo or Lannon's quill toothpick at
this admission, and Lannon's tight
little smile.
Yes. it had been singular evening,
In those few hours he seemed to have
grown to know Larmon as though he
hao known the man all his life, to be
drawn to Larmon in a personal way,
to admire Larmon as a man. There
was something of debonnair sang
froid about Larmon. He had made no
russ over his escape that day and
much less been effusive in any thanks
Lannon's philosophy of life was ap-
parently definitely fixed and settled:
and. in SO far as Larmon was con-
cerned. satisfactorily SO. The whole
"oi III " as BdfnDle-al0,
consistently enough, his own activ-
tiles in that respect were on as vast
a scale as possible.
Larmon, with his unemotional face
and his quill toothpicki No; not un-
emotional! When Larmon had finally
pleaded fatigue and a desire to go to
bed. there had been something in Lar
mons face and Lannon'S good
night that still fingered with him,
John Bruce. and which even now he
could not define.
John Bruce's brows gathered into
tight burrows. His mind had flown
off at a tangent. There was Claire!
It had not been like Claire Nor had
he meant nor did he intend now to
accept her dismissal as final. But
what was it that had happened? What
was it? He could think Of only one
thing-the letter he had written to
Larmon, and which, on that account,
he had asked for and received back
from the other. 1t was a. certainty
that Crang's hand was in this some
where. and Crang had said that he
had shown the letter to Claire but
The telephone rang.
John Bruce stepped to the desk and