The Skyland post. [volume] (West Jefferson, N.C.) 193?-1988, 1943-03-25

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drinking again. He did not an
swer. He shut the door on him
and went out to walk the streets
all night. There was even an ex-
hilarating freedom in doing it.
Presently a glow showed in the
eastern sky; against it the sky
scrappers were blocked out in
strange pyramidal shapes. The
city lights went out; the day
dawned.
It was nine o'clock when Mark
Grant, sleepless and breakfastless'
went back to Fosdick's office. To
dav he would receive his aunts
legacy. It would give him the
means to 60 away. He remember
ed his relief at that thought yes
terday; today it means exile!
Fosdick, coming in to find him
there, waiting, was no more cor
dial that on the previous day
But he took the matter up; it was
apparent that his idea was to get
done with it and with Mark.
you'll have some papers to
sign" he said bluntly. Come over
to the courthouse; there are for
malitieS."
Fosdick showed scant courtesy,
but the money was intact-thanks
to the little lawyers scrupulous
care.
II wouldn't have let her leave
it to you if I'd had my way" ne
said bluntly, as they closed the
business up.
Mark Redeemed in spite of him
self. "Mr. Fosdick, do you re-
member Herbert Burleson?"
The lawyer shot another look
at him. Sure, I do! He's the
great Burleson, now. Why d'you
ask?"
Il saw him yesterday"
Fosdick started, and then he
remembered that it might have
been the merest chance. He nod
ded. Every likely. He's got kind
of palace here"
Mark, folding some papers in
his pocket, assented thoughttully'
"He was with my uncle that last
day; he knew there was no quar-
rel between us. He could have
testified for me-"
Fosdick drummed on his desk.
cts late to think of that he said
coldly.
81 tried to bring it out; no one
believed me-"
Fosdick shrugged. "Are you try
ing to imagine Burleson will clear
you now"
; Mark rose. He had money IN
his pocket; he looked grimly down
at the sneering little man.
"A man has a right to fight for
his life, Mr.. Fosdick. I'm young
still. I've got red blood in me
! I'm going to fight for my life. "
Fosdick looked him over
thoughtfully. For the first time
he seemed to realize the man who
had come back. There was power
in the FIGURE and the face: Mark
stood upright, unashamed. In
/ spite of himself the little lawyer
was impressed. But he fingered
the papers on his desk inpatient
ily; he was not one to admit he
had been touched by anything.
Better go west and live it
down." he advised dryly; mo easy
thing to dig up evidence after
fifteen years. 1t would take your
twenty thousand all right. l sup
pose-when you find the evidence
=" he grinned-"you'll set up
YOUR claim to the Barton fortune"
eyes" said Mark slowly -
"then I might-but not until then.
Good day, Mr.. Fosdick."
The lawyer nodded CURLY, but
he turned in his chair and toll
lowed the young man with his
eyes. For the first time doubt
had stirred in him. Plenty OF IN
nocent people suffered-but, ps-
haw! This boy had been fairly
tried. It was a plain murder Tor
money. He was hard up at the
time, and he was his uncle's heir.
Fosdick pursed his lips. He had
not tried to claim the fortune yet;
it was rolling up; but he would
of course he would! He nodded
to himself and went back to his
work. He had always believed
Mark guilty.
Mark had set his face westward.
It seemed the natural destiny OF
men such as he. Perhaps that
vague country which used to be
termed "out West" by fasteners,
was no longer vague and no long
er offered as great opportunities
for rehabilitation; a man could
scarcely except in these days, to
get out of touch with the things
he left behind him, and there
FOr~f11r