The Dickenson County herald. [volume] (Clintwood, Va.) 1927-1930, 1928-05-17
The Means at
Hand
By AID sCHUSTER
o.G.3.o"o. + "o.0.G.G.G.t

: IN A far0tf province OF India where
i men have time and are trained to
think ct pussihle villainy, Frank Lam
son gave himself to evil thoughts In
this little hut on the frontier he was
removed from the Things he loved,
from the Il.on and women he called
his kind, and from all examples for
good.
Here he was on the borderland,
face TO face with the shadows and
mysteries. He could not trust his
own servant and he knew the very
air to he filled with danger. So he
played with his paperweight, turning
il over and over, and made plans for
revengin. himself upon woman.
He had loved her once and always
would. Now that he was gone it was
easy to make himself believe that had
he stayed in England she would have
learned to care for lin. There came
the chance for career. the oppor-
tanity for fame and the return in
splendor. With her refusal in his ears
and desperation in his heart he had
set out, not knowing or caring for the
future. Now he had time to think,
time TO regret his haste, and time to
plan 10 get even.
Ellen had married. He had seen
that in the papers some one had sent,
carefully marked lest the item escape
his eye. And she had married Tom
Nilkerson! I.amson remembered easy
going Wikerson and hated him. He
wrote TO friends for more details, had
all the papers sent to him, and waited
his chance.
One day he thought he saw the OPP
portunity. friend, the only one
who would have written so. advised
the soldier that Wilkerson was in
hard straits financially. HE has the
reputation of being big-hearted, as
you may remember. the letter went
on. "Some shrewd men who know
that kindness may be next to care
lessness have him in hole. Wilker-
son woke up just in time, climbed
half way out, but there he is stick
Ing. If had, say two thousand
pounds, could break the man. You
know I'm in competing line and that
know what am talking about. But,
/ can't spare the change and, besides,
he's your enemy, not mine. Just
thought | would let you know that
, Ill do the work if you'll furnish the
money
Lamson, with his arms sprawled on
the wooden table in his hut played
with the paperweight and tried to
summon from his slender resources of
money or friends the possibility of
acquiring two thousand pounds. He
would have to mortgage his future,
sell his few possessions, and borrow
to raise this sum. No time could be
lost. Wikerson was climbing out of
the hole. Before long it would be too
late to shove him back.
The man made list of everything
he owned and added the names Of the
friends who might be induced to loan
him money. Then he wrote them all,
diplomatic letters each suited to the
recipient, letters asking money I'm
patiently he awaited the replies and
as he waited he toyed with the pa
perweight on his table.
One after one. the answers came
and each he threw into the basket
with disgust. They were all sorry,
but, you know, ones money does not
go far In this country and-it was
the same.
"They won't loan 1t to me, that's
what they mean. They'd loan It to
Winslow, or Thorndyke-." He sat
up late in the night, calling aloud for
an inspiration that would lead him to
money, money with which to ruin
Ellen's husband. 1t was then that
the fever rode into the window and
touched him on the brow. The hut
held a sick man, and delrium, and
the news went the route of the run
ners. 1t was Thorndyke who came to
help.
When ThOrndyke approached the
hut he was met by frightened ma
tive, who gave him to know that
Lamson had driven the servants from
the hut and had been raving and
shouting inside. The delirium, which
was an evil spirit, had been more eff
fective than the threats. The sick
man was alone in his need.
Thorndyke broke in the door and
there was Lamson at his table, the
paperweight in his hand. But Lam
son was dead. The fever had halted
his plans for revenge
poor fellow" said Thorndyke.
sand 1t was just two months ago he
asked me for loan. Maybe, had |
given it to him. he would have asked
for leave and gone away where the
fever would not have got him."
Then Thorndyke's eye fell on the
dull-colored paperweight. He held 1t
10 the light, then secreted it carefully
in his pocket.
"A sapphre!" he said, and he re-
memhered the story Of the lost one of
Malik Kaffur at must be worth easily
three thousand pounds! And old
LamsOn never knew"
Nagging