Brownsville herald. [volume] (Brownsville, Tex.) 1910-current, 1927-12-02


ribIy interpretive years. and he
found his hatred becoming more
personal and more venomous.
They passed through the gigantic
waiting room and out 20 the square
before the station. Terry knew the
car even before they started toward
it. IL was typical of Peter Borden
that he was still using the same
make Of ar. Il was said that he
had owned the first OF that make in
the city, and the chances were that
he would own one so long as the
factory continued to produce.
Bob Terry knew that il would be
a new car. Borders other had been
ore year old when Bob went to pris-
on. That meant that 1t would have
been traded the next year and that
the new one would have been driven
for two years. This. then, should
be very new. according TO Bob's
r~cckoning. And as he climbed
stiffly in and settled into the unac
customed luxury Of the upholstery,
he noted that the s~peedometer reg
istered less than a thousand miles.
Damn the mani Couldn't he change
a single habit? Must his own tide Of
life flow s~erenely. regardless Of
what misery might hefaii others?
There was a terrible restraint be-
tween them. Borden was fearful Of
parading his grief: Terry concealed
his hatred beneath the pallor of his
prison mask. They rolled down the
broad, tree-lined thoroughfare lead
ing from the terminal to the civic
center Of the states metropolis. II
had not changed; on both sides Of
the streets were more or less pre-
tentioux and battered structures
which had once been aristocratic
homes and were now sunk TO the low
estate Of boarding houses. They
passed the Imprinted. fran structure
where Bob Terry had first comes
when he came to the city, and he
felt the vivid contrast between his
outlook then and now. Then he had
been young and hopeful and buoyed
by irresponsible ambition. Now,
seven years later. he was an old
man; hard and bitter and surfeited.
with the vicarious wisdom Of peni-
tertiary associates.
They turned south on the main
traffic artery leading toward the res
ideRtial section. and here, IS they
slowed down for the trafficlights.
dignified and pompous business men
greeted Borden from the sidewalks;
waved TO him with Difference and
respect. Bob's lips curled. He knew
well enough what 4 power Borden
was in that city: re knew that Bor-
den nigh. have saved him from
prison three years since. But instead
the mad had prattled OF his duty.
and Of the fact that this supposed
had been an offense. not
egainSt himself. but against the
state-and so Bob Terry had gone
prison because Borden had elect
ed TO practice his platitGdinous
preachments.
They reached the residential Sec
tion: interlacing streets s~entineled
with oaks and naples and poplars !;
broad sidewalks behind which cast,
terreced lawns served as settings for
homes OF varied and attract
i've architecture. Eventually they
swung into a broad driveway and be-
tween two 81 stately pop
lars. TO stop under the porte
cochare Of q tremendous home of
virgin rock and tapestry brick. Bob
Terry remembered his first visit
here-his awe at the luxury and
.yAstness Of the place, his belief
that the owner of any such mansion
must he an infinitely superior be-
ing. But the thought which re-
CURED was that All the while he
had been existing in a barred cell
four convicted criminals. Peter
Borden had continued TO live in this
luxury.
Borden led the way to the living
room. Dusk was falling and the
huge room was lighted softly by
standing lamps. There was an i'm
preston Of homeneSs and Of COM
fcrt in spite of the rooms tremend-
Gus size. and Bob Terry lowered has
ewes to the Persian rug on which he
stood. Time was when he had felt
AZ home here; when the luxury had
ceased to dazzle him. Now he was
neither AZ home ncr dazxled. but
merely bewildered.
They stood quietly FOR q moment
or two. then Peter Borden reached
for the young mans old felt hst
He tried also to take from him the
queer little japanese pagoda which
Tod Shannon had carved with an
old safety raEcr blade from a bit Of
red cedar. but Bob refused 10 re-
iinquish that IL mesnt something
70 him. II was the touch Of
genuine affection ard undiluted real
itv left IN his marred and misshapen
scheme Of things.
The door opened and the negro
entered His lips were spread
in "a friendly. uncertain grin.
"Howdye. Mistuh Bob"
Terry raised his eyes. ~How are
you. Croesps :"
"Tolabie. thanky. sub: jes' toll
The negro faced his employer.
'Mistuh Bob's room is all fixed.
sub"
There was an awkward silence. Il
was Bob Terry Who spoke.
"What does he mean. Nr. Bor-
der ="
@Simplv that vcur Is ready
Borden cleared his threat a~d Locked
r. aHa = -