Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-03-27
CHAPTER II.
"HALF-HuNG" SIMON.


7 OUNGING forward, his hands ir
the pocket of his coat, the In
truder, seating himself on the
~ edge of the desk, nonchalantly
leaned forward and, smiling
Crookedly, inquired:
''Well, and how are things going with
Half-hung Simon?"
The doctors eyes narrowed, other
wise not a muscle Of his face moved,
nor did his expression change by q
hairs breath as he looked at the clean
shaver, gray-eyed face before him.
His mind Ieaped back over the years,
and he saw himself seated astride a
horse, his hands bound, one end of a
rope noosed about his neck, the other
tied to a branch Of the big tree be-
meath which he waited for death, and
the Missen crowd waited to see him
die. He could see their faces now, and
old Buck Wilton, the girls father, fin
gering the trigger while the boys babe
Buck not to be a fool and spoil-sport.
He could hear Chuck Masters voice:
you don wanna shoot the skunk,
Buck"
'sure thing you don't. Not TIL
he's danglin',' Shorty Coghlan had
shouted. Finally, as the sun set, after
what seemed hours Of dreadful torture,
they had all cleared OF.
How often had he wakened from
dreams of sitting, bound, upon rest
less horse, entreating, caioling, earess-
ing with his voice, praying alternately
to his horse and to his God, and Of the
agony, mental and physical, when 1t
had taken one step forward and then
another, until the rope was choking
him, forcing him to lean back at an
agonizing angle and wriggle his body
toward the horses crupper.
How often in his dreams had he
fallen with a terrific crash of the break
ing bough that had saved his life.
The devil had been watching over
his own when Chuck Masters had flung
the rope over that rotten bough.
Half-hung Simonl
DR.. Charters eyes narrowed yet fur
Their as he stared at the face OF the
man who sat leering triumphantly.
Had he been one of the Missen out
at? He could not place him.
In a fraction Of second Or. Char
tiers saw his past. its darkest corners
illuminated. In none Of them could ne
.hnd this man, though he had seen his
face or portrait before.
From the days Of his youth, as q
medical student In London, to those
Of his fame as the successful physician
Of Harley street and the Monastery
Nursing Home, he reviewed his life.
Childhood. His feebly nagging,
si1reWish mother, his drunken and dis
reputable father, q genius Of great In
teilect and little virtue; now RICH now
poor.
He could hear him now:
"Ah, my boy, there's only two ways
Of making real money, patent medicine
and patent religion. Look at Jumpers
Pills-bread crumbs and calomel. A
fartning's worth for half a crown. Look
ut the Prophet Stone and his church.
Why, Stone must have made million
out Of the books alone"
College. He had distinguished
himself after that fright when the
shadows of the prison had almost fallen
across his path. Fool that he had been
to try and use the scalpel at that age,
and that degree Of inexperience. But
the money had tempted hin--and he
had got away with It.
Practice. Excellent and grow
ing, until he had again encountered
Maud, nurse, confidante of society"
black sheep, and his evil genius. (Fancy
Maud hooking poor old Landerdell)
What q practice they had, and what a
cruel thing that he'd had to leave it
all and skip to America to escape black
mail