Evening star., 1924-02-10

, there were hotels, Of course. And
Mary had asked her. But this cool
! suggestion added a definite irritation
to his embarrassed uncertainty.
I'm afraid not" he replied, to his
own a!naZement. 'I don't know much
| about New York
oh. well.' she cut In. don't worry.
! / only said that I've plenty Of places
! to go. Have Il cigarette? These are
| Mary's"
THANK you: don't smoke them"
''Of course not" she retorted. with
| that odd, husky chuckle. well, I'll
be back in a minute"
* y X X
! CHE went into another room. with Il
- long. free step like boys. In Il
! Very short time she appeared in a
| small toque. and rather dramatic
! dark velvet cape. \ small suit case
and an umbrella swung easily from
one hand; IN the other she extended
, key
! Mary seems to have a lot of these"
she observed. II heard you fussing
with yours. thought 1t was next
door. Give her my love. and I'll tell
| her a few things when > see her.
Goodnight"
He grew red and choked uncom.
fortably.
| There's not the slightest necessity
for YOU to CO." he blurted angrily.
''I'll find some place. Of course. Please
! go back
! "Bosh!" she interrupted shortly. "of
! course I'm going. There's plenty of
+, room for US both. for that matter;
but IT isn't done. worse luck"
She was at the door
And l rather think" she went on,
dropping the key into his hand, that
| can look after myself little better
/ than you can-Mr. Mary's Brother
! You'd better put the chain on the
| door," she shot at him as she lit her
| self out. Heaven knows. who Mary
| may not have invited. besides u.s."
Picking up the suitcase he walked
uncertainty toward the room the girl
! had left. How his head ached. He'd
! better get his wet clothes off. 1t
! would have been nicer, much. If Mary
| had been there. 1t was two years since
| he had seen her. How was she playing
| now, he wondered-it seemed disloyal
| to think it. but there had always been
something missing from Mary's play
ing. What was it? Involuntarily he
| moved to the big Steinway and touched
II lightly. How 1t sang! What a
tone. Mary had written something
about having it rebuilt; but he had
never supposed you could do that with
an old piano.
He was too tired to get his glasses,
better get to bed.
He fodnd the switches and glanced
into a small bedroom partly fitted for
day use. evidently, for a sewing ma
chine and a typewriter gave 1t a work
shop air. That was like Mary.
But the largo bedroom! He drew
a sharp breath. Somehow he felt out
Of place here. The bed had no head
nor footboard, to begin with; a big
square Of wine.colored velvet covered
it. And the looking glasses! A great
pier glass six feet tall, a sort of
screen of glass in three parts at the
back of the long dressing table, the
two closet doors faced with beveled
mirrors! There seemed few things in
the room. and yet it looked very rich
and full Aunt Mary had been very
generous. Or perhaps it was the
pieces were large.
He pulled some things out Of his
suit case and lifted the wine -colored
velvet cover OF the bed. When the
upper sheet turned over, a great en-
broidered M was written. wreathed in
twisted vines. He felt all OF q sudden
tlat he didn't know Mary very well.
IT was ten by Uncle William
Stickney's watch when he rolled
over drowsily. Tho delicate. powerful
scent that hung about the rooms
recalled everything to him swiftly
He borrowed in the suit case for
his glasses, and standing before a
high carved chiffonier, he attacked
his thick, ash-b blond hair with a pair
Of worn silver brushes. His eye fell
on group OF framed photographs
ranged before the mirror, and he
scowled, for he felt there were too
many-if they had been the great
pianists, even-but they were not.
That big fellow. now, was surely the
one that sang the "Pagliacci Pro-
logue" SO wonderfully.
"For the one and only Mary, from
her devoted Carlos"
And why should that tall, medieval
looking man with the beard scraw1
'Toujours!'. and an indistinct mono-
gram across his robes? His eye fed
to third photograph, relieved to f1nd
it plain, simple fellow in citizens
dress One hand was In his pocket, he
grinned cheerfully, and there was
nothing in his face to cause
Will Stickney's jaw to drop loosely
or to send a wave Of red over cheeks.
But It wasn't, Of course, the mans
face: it was the extraordinary SEN
tence written across his knees.
ITO Mary. from her loving brother
and good pal. George"
George? George! What the dickens
they had no brother George, Mary
and he. They had no brother at
all:
A strange mounting fear grew un-
reasonably in him: he rushed to the
gate-legged table and studied Il eagerly.
Facing him In the place Of honor,
stood an evidently enlarged snapshot
Of O rambling homelike farmhouse, with
well-sweep in front and a clear por-
trait of the George" Of the chiffonier
standing by the well. collie dog at
his knee. Below, on the margin, was
written:
''For Mary. hoping she will never for
get the old homo where we were born.
from George"
VIII Stickney stared, scowling, at the
v,1a nh