The Bismarck tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, N.D.) 1916-current, 1924-08-22
0Jlm AinS]eX
18M a&eY' IhiGt
W {!a!.! IS $o% ne Isl; RG :!
Copyright 1914.
THE LAST EPISODE

She had been crying. AS a matter
of fact, she was weeping now.
Bravely she, was endeavoring to
hide her emotion. Indeed, emotion
is not the word, for that word con-
notes certain agitation that was
lacking in her manner.
Sheer hopelessness was written
upon her face-that despair of youth
so> infinitely more tragic than the
despair Of age. And she was patheti-
cally young. In years. perhaps, she
had reached maturity but hers was
the type of face that mirrors the in
nocence of childhood. Neither time
nor experience can ever age such
folk.
But even these can suffer. Per-
haps, indeed, they~suffer more than
the calloused Of soul. l, cynical
violator Of the laws of man, wanted
to go over and pat her hand, and
wipe away her tears.
smiled as pictured myself doing
this. Her young escort would doubt
less resent such an action, for l have
not reached the age when l may ven
ture such benevolence. l am young
not as young as the youth who ac-
companicd her, but still Of an age
when women sometimes glance my
way. Partly, too, my smile was sar-
donic. was not the person to offer
chivalrous sympathy to weeping
maidens, with or without escort.
At this very moment the police of
New York were searching for me.
AS l have rec0unted in q previous
chapter, one Swede Thomassen, a
brutal murderer, had been killed in
my apartment by the White Eagle,
that great Frcnchman whom l would
rank as the foremost criminal genius
of his time, did not truth compel me
to admit that have defeated him on
numerous occasions.
The newspapers were filled with
accounts Of the finding of Thomas
sens body, and with tales of the ex-
traordinary efforts police were MAX
ing to find Robert Stickney, the ten
ant of the apartment. Indeed, the
newspapers did not condemn Stick
ney. They said that he had render
ed service to society in Kidding it OF
Thomassen. Nevertheless the police
naturally desired to interview Mr.
Stickney. And if Mr.. Stickney were
captured by the police, it would
transpire, possibly, that he was a
gentleman of fortune, who had be-
come professional despoiler of the
too numerous profiteers which the
war had created.
Now l. John Ainsley, had no wish
to disclose my identity, my means of
livelihood. In fact, that means of
livelihood, I hoped, had been aban-
doned. l had made my stake. i in
tended to sail for Australia. In a
couple of years l would return.
would go to that native town Of mine
where the Ainsleys were known and
respected, and would take up again
the life that had led before the war
and the crash Of my fortunes.
Five days had elapsed since the
discovery of Thomassen's body. And
during those five days had secluded
myself in the rooms which l had
taken in modest hotel.
But was always restless person.
Tomorrow, at five in the morning,
the Celeste sailed from her dock for
Sydney. MY baggage was already in
my stateroom. 1t would have been D.
simple matter for me, having paid
my hotel bill, to step into taxi,
drive downtown and across Brooklyn
Bridge to the steamer.
But would not see New York
again for at least two years. 1t
would take me that long so to estab-
lish myself in Australia that if, in
the years to come, some one should
ask if John Ainsley really had made
fortune in the island continent, it
would be possible to point to back
ground of trading or speculation.
l felt inconsistencies before had
left my country's soil. l wanted to
drink in, for the last time, the vital
air of Manhattan, to see the hurrying
people. And SO, despite the fact that
policemen were armed with descrip-
ton of Robert Stickney, John Ainsley
dined at the Trevor.
1t was "a time when l should have
taken no risks whatsoever. And GER
tainly it would be madness for me to
add to the risk already run by in
truding upon the young couple who
sat at a table in the alcove diagonal
ly across the Trevor dining room. \
Who was I, bearing my burdens,
to think that I could lift the weight
from another's shoulders? And yet
she looked like girl whom l had
known dozen years ago, a girl with
whom I had gone to school.
She was pretty girl. Her hair
was golden, her complexion pink and
white, her mouth sweet and gentle,
and her nose was straight and small
enough to add touch Of r6guish-
ness to her countenance-althou
indeed, her present mood held no
gayety. $50"
Her companion was about twenty
four. He was goodlooking, and on
an OCCASION when he was less har-
assed than now, his face would have
seemed ingenious. This was no
lovers quarrel; this was no grief of
the ordinary sort which they were
sharing. Only some desperate turn
in the tide Of their affairs could re-.
duce these naturally buoyant young
people to their present condition of
despair.