a
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(Continued from last week).
SYNOPSIS.
CHAPTER lL.—Lonely and almost friend-
jess, Tonnibel Devon, living on a canal
boat, child of a brutal father and a worn-
out, discouraged mother, wanders into a
Salvation army hall at Ithaca, N. Y.
There she meets a young Salvation army
captain, Philip MacCauley.
CHAPTER I11.—Uriah Devon, Tony’s fa-
ther, returns to the boat from a pro-
tracted ‘‘spree,”” and announces he has
arranged for Tony to marry a worthless
companion of his, Reginald Brown. Mrs.
Devon objects, and Uriah beats her. She
intimates there is a secret connected
with Tonnibel.
CHAPTER Ill.—In clothes that Uriah
has brought Tony finds a baby’s picture
with a notification of a reward for its
return to a Doctor Pendlehaven. She
goes to return the picture.
CHAPTER IV.—With the Pendlehavens,
a family of wealth, live Mrs, Curtis, a
cousin, her son and daughter, Katherine
Curtis and Reginald Brown. Katherine {is
deeply in love with Philip MacCauley.
CHAPTER V.—Tonnibel returns the
picture to Doctor John, and learns it be-
longs to his brother, Dr. Paul Pendle-
haven. It is a portrait of Doctor Paul's
child, who had been stolen in her infancy,
and her loss has wrecked Doctor Paul's
life. Doctor John goes with Tony to the
canal boat and ministers to Mrs. Devon
while she is unconscious.
CHAPTER VI.—Returning to consclous-
ness, Mrs. Devon is informed by Tony
of her visitor. She is deeply agitated,
makes Tony swear she will never tell of
Devon’s brutality, and disappears,
CHAPTER VIIL.—Tony’s personality and
her loneliness appeal to Doctor John and
he arranges to take her into his house as
a companion to his invalid brother,
CHAPTER VIII.—Tony’s presence In
the house has a good effect on Doctor
Paul: He begins to take a new interest
in life. Visiting the canal boat, Tony
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his word, Paul Pendlehaven scarcely
breathed for a long while after his
brother went out, although his heavy
gray eyes stared at the breaking dawn.
If anyone had told him a month ago,
he could have longed for any humawr
being as he now longed for Tony De
von, he wouldn’t have believed it. He
dreaded the day without her dear
smile bending over him. Perhaps she
would never come back. At that
thought he groaned.
If he could only go to sleep. Only
close his eyves—
His lids sank slowly down, and he
slept fitfully. Mingled in his dream of
Tony Devon came a sharp sound. That,
like Tony, must be a dream, too. that
sound that was out of the ordinary
noises of the day, for although the
sun had called into life the bees and
birds. Tthaea still slumbered,
The noise cange again, siriking
against his nervous brain and waking
him. Suddenly, with panting breath
and beating pulses, he lifted himself
on his elbow. The screen had fallen
from the window and perhaps ten sec-
onds passed as he stared mutely at it.
Then like a shot from a gun, Tony
Devon sprang through the window in-
to the room. For a moment the sick
man gazed at her with mingled emo-
tions. Something dreadful had hap-
pened to her. She was so white, so
wraithlike and changed, yet blotching
the pallor of her face were reddish
blue bruises. Then the bare feet took
' the distance between them in a bound.
finds Reginald Brown there. He attempts .
to kiss her. Captain MacCauley appears
and throws the man into the lake. Uriah:
Devon orders MacCauley off his boat.
Then he called softly:
“Tony—little Tony.”
The girl stirred and lifted her head.
“Yep.” she sighed. “I'm here.”
“Come out” said Philip, leaning
over ant’ taking held of her arm
“Ther=' ‘hild. don’t shake so. You're
safe here with me. and | suppose they
think you're drowned by this time.
Cant you xtep out. dear?”
She wes trembling. so he had to pick |
nnd lift
he carried her under an over
her np
Then
hanging rock and placed her ou the
sand.
Through many sobs and tears. she
told him all that had happened on the |
canal boat, and that her father had
sald her mother was dead. And so
touched was Philip MacCauley, he felt
the tears rim his own lashes. For a
long time, in fact until the rain ceased
to heat upon the rocks and shore. they
stayed under cover. Most of the time
they were silent, most of the time Phil-
ip held the curly head against his
breast. When the dawn began to brezk
Tonnibel roused herself.
“I'm goin’ away now,” she said.
“I've got to go to my friends. And
I can’t tell you just how much I'm
thankin’ you.”
“But if I let you go,” protested
Philip, “I'll never sce you again. Oh,
don’t do that. Tony, I couldn't stand
it now!”
“I couldn’t, either,” she said under
her breath. “I'll be comin’ back here
to this hole some day.”
“When ?" asked Philip, eagerly. “To-
day?
Tonnibel shook her head.
“Nope,” she replied wearily.
dead beat out.”
“And 1 forgot that,” cried the boy.
“Tony, darling, will you—will you
kiss me before you go?”
Two arms shot out and clasped
around his neck. Two eager lips met
his in such passionate abandon that
for a long time after Tony and Gussie
had gone away toward the boulevard
Philip MacCauley lay face downward
on the shore. the sun peeping at him
from the eastern hill,
:
“I'm
* * = *
Paul Pendlehaven lay wide awake
in his bed, his sunken eyes filled with
darkened sorrow. His brother had
stayed with him the most of the night
and now sat beside him.
“Will you sleep?’ asked Doctor
John,
“I'll try,” was the response.
could if T knew where she was.”
Doctor John reached over and tock
his brother's thin hand.
“The morning may bring her back,”
he said soothingly. “And Paul, old
man, if you worry like this, you'll be
back where you were four weeks
ago.”
The invalid sighed heavily.
“I've grown so accustomed to her,”
he said in excuse, “and somehow since
you told me of her people, I fear some-
thing may have happened te her.”
“We'll hope for the best,” said John
Pendlehaven, rising. “Now if I run
down for a wink or two will you lie
quletly while I'm gone?”
“Yes,” came in a breath, and true to
“1
her out wm his arms, |
The dimples at the corners of her lips
lived a moment and were gone.
When Paul Pendlehaven dropped
back on the pillow, she spoke.
“Me and Gussie’s back,” she said
brokenly. “I climbed up the tree and
She Said
“Me and Gussie's Back,”
Brokenly.
sot to the roof, fearin' to wake up
the other folks in the house.” She sat
down begide the bed. ‘Somehow |
knew you'd be lookin’ for me, sir."
It was because she had passed
through such a dreadful night and was
so terribly tired that she cried a little
as a child cries after it has been cruel-
ly punished.
Paul Pendlehuven let his thin hand
irop on thie frowsly head. Tears stang
his own lids like nettles,
“Dear child,” he breathed, “dear
pretty child, I've waited all night for
you. My God, what's happened to
you?”
Tony covered her face with her
hands,
“Somebody beat me up,” she
moaned. “I cun’t tell anything now.
And I lost my pretty clothes.”
Sudden strength came to Paul Pen-
dlehaven. He sat up straight and
forcibly lifted the pitiful hurt face so
he could look at it.
“Tony,” he began gravely, “1 com-
inand you to tell me what happened
to you. Tell me instantly. If I knew,
I could tuke steps to punish the ruffian
who dared to, do this thing.”
That was just what Tony didn’t
want. Hadn't she sworn to Edith in
the presence of the infinite Christ, that
good Shepherd who had given up His
life for His sheep, that no matter
what Uriah did she wouldn’t peach on
him?
The tears were still rolling down
her cheeks from under lowered lids.
“You have so helped me, Tony,” con-
tinued Pendlehaven, “and yet you re-
fuse to let me do what I can.”
She tried to think of something to
comfort him.
“But sometimes daddies and hus-
bands beat their women folks,” she ex-
plained, :
“Then your father whipped you?”
quizzed the doctor.
“That I can’t tell,” said the girl.
“Don’t make me, . . . Oh, Lordy,
I'm all tuckered out.” Ae
It was of no use to put quéstions
any more, thought Pendlehaven. Hé
was persuaded that her father had
. done this dreadful thing, ~~
At eight o'clock, when Dr. John
, Pendiehaven softly entered the sick-
| room he found his brother in sound
slumber, and Tony Devon. her face
! discolored with bruises, fast asleep in
the chair by the bedside.
It was a stubborn Tony that faced
Doctor John that morning. Adroitly he
her extreme paleness, for the dark
marks stretched across her face, and
the meaning of the shudders that sud-
denly attacked her.
“T can’t tell,” she reiterated in dis-
tress us she had to his brother. “Please
don't ask me.”
That her mother was dead, she firm-
ly believed. This she did tell the doc-
tor between many sobs and tears.
“I'll never see her ever any more,”
she told him tremulously. “And if
you'll let me, I'll live here forever and
forever and take care of Doctor Paul.”
“My brother can’t get along without
you, dear,” he said, deeply touched. “If
you had seen how he grieved last
night, you wouldn't have made that
remark.”
“I know he likes me.” said the girl,
sighing. “and I love him. Why. I love
him—"
She searched the
caught his smile.
“Better than you do me?" he came
in with,
“Yes.” said Tonnibel, honestly. “hut
{| yeu next—" Then she thought of
Philip, of the hours he had held her
against his breast, of the kiss in the
morning's dawn, and she fell into gr
bashful silence.
When Doctor Pendlehaven told Mrs.
Curtis that Tony had returned. her
face drew down in a sulky frown.
“But we needn't care.” Katherine
said afterward, “she doesn’t bother us
much. For my part I can’t see how
Cousin Paul stands her.”
“John says Paul almost died last
night,” took up Mrs. Curtis. “I sup-
pose she’s one of the things we've
got to stand in a house run by an old
bachelor and a grieving widower.”
“To say nothing of a father with a
daughter lost somewhere in the
world,” supplemented Katherine,
“There’s no danger of Caroline's ve-
turning after all these years,” said
Mrs, Curtis. “If—if—that girl hadn't
come, Paul wouldn’t have lived long.
John told me so himself. 1 almost
hoped that—"
“That he’d die?” interrupted Kath-
erine, maliciously. “Well, to be truth-
ful T have wished it many times.
Cousin John would have to think of
somebody else then. Perhaps he'd
turn his attention to you,
darling.”
“He won't while Paul lives,” sighed
Mrs. Curtis. “I don’t know just what
to do. I've thought of every concelv-
able way to get that girl out of the
house, and John forestalls me every
time.”
“I'm glad Philip hasn't seen her.”
remarked Katherine. “He's just the
religious maudlin kind who would fall
for an appealing face like hers.” Mrs.
Curtis made &n impatient gesture. and
Katherine proceeded, “We can’t deny
she is appealing, mamma, even if we
hate her! And God knows I loathe her
so I could strangle her with these two
hands.” She held up clenched fin-
gers. then relaxed them and laughed
bitterly. “Heavens! What's the use
|
|
man’s face and
i of butting our heads against a stone
wall? Give me a cigarette, my
dear Sarah. Philip won't be here un.
til night, and I can get rid of the odor
before that.”
Meanwhile upstairs Tony. Devon was
fast getting back to her normal self.
The bless2d assurance she had that she
was needed by her sick. friend. lifted
her spirits. She grieved inwardly for
thought of her father. Now all ties
were cut between them. She had no
doubt but that both: Uriah and Reggie
thought the wag dead in the lake.
She hoped they did! She'd rever see
elther’one: of them again. . + 7.»
She was sitting thinking deeply
when Paul Pendlehaven spoke to her.
“Little dene.” said he, reaching out
his hand toward her. ‘come over ga
minute. 1 want to talk to you!”
‘Tonnibel went to him Instantly, ns
she always did when he called her.
he insisted, as his hot hand clasped
you did yesterday. 1 shan't be able to
stand it if you do!”
Tonnibel’s mind flashed to Philip.
She felt sure he would go to the cor-
ner of the lake every day to meet her,
as he had gone to the canal boat.
Yet as she gazed into the imploring
.eyes of her friend, she had no heart
to deny him his wish.
“I'm selfish, perhaps,” the man went
on, “but, Tony dear, if you want to
go out, there's lots of cars in the
garage, and horses in the stable. Won't
you promise me?”
face from her mind. She put the wish
warm lips once more on hers behind
quiescence.’
“1 promise,” she said in a low voice.
but a sob prevented her from saying
anything more.
CHAPTER X.
The Stoning.
Never before since he had taken up
his work of redemption had Philip
MacCauley found the hours so long
and so difficult to live through. Day
after day he canped to the place Tony
had.-promised to meet him, only to re-
turn to Ithaca more at sea than ever.
‘He had’ the "sickening idea that the
girl he had grown to love was;again
4 in the clutches of her brute of a fa-
‘ther and Reginald Brown.
+ Tony, too, began to lose the high
spirits that had returned almost im-
mediately after her escape from the
canal boat. The gray eyes grew dark-
tried to draw from her the reason fer
mother
her mother, but shuddered when she
“You will promise me something,”
hers. “Tony, don’t go out again like !
Tony thrust the memory of Philip's
to be in his arms again, to feel his ’
her. and tremblingly smiled in ae-
i ly circled, the lovely mouth seemed to
have lost the power to smile.
| Paul Pendlehaven noted all this with
apprehension. He questioned the gir:
| time after time. asking her if she felt
{ well. if there was anything she wantc??
i but she always replied in the negative.
One day after they had had their
dinner, he sat looking at her curiously.
She was close to the window reading
a book. when he caused her to look up
i by calling her name.
I “Run downstairs. Tony dear.” he
went on, “and tell my brother to come
up here before office hours. will you.
honey?”
The girl rose, laying aside her book.
She dreaded venturing into Mrs. Cur-
tls’ presence and shivered when she
remembered the critical Katherine who
looked her over with supercilious tole-
ration whenever they happened to
meet. But she made no complaint and
went slowly downstairs.
The dining room door was closed, but
the sound of voices from within told
her the family was at dinner. She
opened the door slowly and stepped
inside. For one moment her vision
was obscured by the fright that sud.
denly took possession of her. As the
blur cleared. from her eyes. she saw
John Pendlehaven smiling at her. Then
a sharp ejaculation from some one else
swung her gaze from the doctor's face.
and it settled on—Philip MacCauley.
She went extremely pale and put out
her hand to grasp something for sup-
port as if she were going to fall. She
saw him rise up slowly. an expression
of amazement and relief going across
his face. She smiled. but what a weary
little smile it was and how full of
pleading, as if she were silently beg-
ging him to forgive her for some deed
she'd done.
John Pendlehaven gazed at the two
young people, and then he too got to
his feet.
“Philip,” he said abruptly, “this is
Tonnibel Devon. She's Paul's com-
panion. We have—"
Philip interrupted the speaker by
his sudden bound around the table.
“Tony Devon, little Tony,” he cried.
“I thought, oh, I thought you were
dead. TI thought I'd lost you forever.”
A noise fell from. Katherine's lips,
and Mrs. Curtis stumbled to her feet.
“So you know her too, Philip,” she
snarled with a hasty glance at her |
pallid daughter. “I thought we'd kept
her well out of your way. So you've
played the sneak while eating bread and
butter in my house, miss,” she blurted
at Tony. “Well, it’s what one might
have expected of you—you huzzy.”
“Mother!” gasped Katherine, as Ton-
nibel snatched her hands from Philip.
‘Kathie, you needn’t ‘mother’ me!”
cried Mrs. Curtis, blind with rage.
“Either she goes away or I do. I won’t
stay in the house with a common
sneak—a common—"'
“Sarah, sit down.” thundered John
Pendlehaven. “Don’t speak another
such word or—" :
Tony was at the doctor’s side be-
fore he could finish nis threat.
“1 didn’t sneak,” she said, looking up
at him. “Oh, please—please believe
me.”
“That she didn't,” cried Philip, com-
ing to her side. “Cousin John, I've
known Tony Devon ages, and I didn’t
even know she was in this house.” He
turned his flashing eyes upon Mrs. Cur-
tis, who was weeping hysterically.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,
Cousin Sarah,” he went on, “to use
such language to a perfectly nice little
girl. Why, you've just about broken
her heart.”
His voice had sunk to a passionate :
whisper. His eyes misted in a youthfu!
struggle to control his joy, and—and
at the sight of him, Katherine lost her
wits entirely.
“Who and what have we been har-
boring in this house, Cousin John?"
she shrieked in a high thin voice, strug:
gling to her feet. A gutter rat, a 1lit-
tle snake, a loose girl—"
Each word, brought out with greater
vehemence and passion than the one
before, struck the listeners dumb, In
shame-faced misery. Tornibel sank to
"the floor, dropping her head Into her
hands.
“Ok, no, I'm net thar,” she wailed.
“My mummy never lived in the gutter;
che never did. 1 was poor, awl
poor—" .
“Poor!” exclaimen Katherine. “You're
worse than poor. [I suppose you've
wheedled Philip the same way you
have Cousin Paul.”
“Katherine, 1 command you to he
silent,” shouted Pendlehaven. “If you
say another word, I shall ask you to
leave my house.”
“Well, I never!” screamed Mrs. Cui
tis.
“And you too, Sarah,” thrust in the
doctor. “We dop’t know the truth of
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In Shame-Faced Misery Tonnibel Sank
to the Floor.
J he'd be here very soon.
{ that happens in’ this house out of the
this thing, but 1 know very well that
Tony Devon is not a bad girl.”
“That she is not,” interjected Philip.
“Now I'll tell you all about it.”
As John Pendlehaven raised her to
her feet, Tonnibel lifted her head and
fixed her tearful eyes on Captain Mae-
Cauley.
“You promised you'd never tell anv-
body.” she mrrnured. Her mind was
with the dead Edith Devon, and the
words of her own serious reverent
oath given in the presence of her wild-
eyed mother would not allow her to
consent that Philip should lift the
stigma heaped upon her by the Curtis |
women.
“So I did,” admitted Philip. soberly,
“but you see now this has happened. |
You must release me from that prom- '
ise.”
“lI can’t,” sighed Tony. Then turn-
ed he: face to Pendlehaven. !
“You'll trust us,” she pleaded. wav- |
Ing her hand toward Philip. “Please
trust him and me.”
“Ha!” shrieked Mrs. Curtis. “Trust
vou—""
“Shut up. Cousin Sarah.” snapped
Philip at the angry woman. Then he
addressed himself to the dector. “1
did promise her 1 wouldn't tell how
we met. And I won't! In fact it isn't
any one's business. Is it. Cousin
John?"
“Not that I ean see,
drawiing answer.
“I'l! repeat what
Philip took up hastily.
she lived here.”
“We're ready to believe that—nit,”
cried Katherine.
Captain MacCauley stared at her.
Was this frowning angry giri the smil-
ing, vielding Katherine he had knewn
or thought he had known?
“You can believe it or not, Kathie,”
he told her savagely. “It makes no
difference to me. But it's true. just
the same.”
“Wait here for me, Philip,” said the
doctor, in a low tone. “I'll be back |
in a moment. i
Then he took Tony by the hand and
they went out together.
For several tense moments a silence
too dreadful to describe settled down |
upon the dining room. Katherine
twisted her fork sulkily and Mrs. Cur-
tis still sniffed in her handkerchief.
Philip looked from one to the other,
wishing with all his heart he could
say something that would clear the
atmosphere.
“I'm sorry, Cousin Sarah,” he sald
abruptly, trying to smile. “It certainly
was awkward, wasn’t it?”
“Awkward?” repeated Mrs. Curtis,
wrinkling her face. “Awkward isn’t
the word, Philip. It was disgusting.”
The gorge rose again in his throat.
“Tonnibel Devon is the best girl I.
know,” he asserted. *“Poor little thing,
I pity her with all my heart.”
“Pity is akin to love, my dear Phil-’
ip,” sneered Mrs. Curtis.
“Mother,” cried Katherine. ‘Philip
wouldn't so far forget himself and his
friends and position as to love—well—
if you can’t keep your tongue still, go
upstairs.”
This was a shock for Philip. That |
any girl could speak to her own mother !
fn such a way was beyond his com- |
prehension. The door opened just then |
and Dr. John walked in.
“She came down to tell me that
Paul wanted me and forgot it,” he said
in a low tone. “The poor child is quite |
overcome,” |
Mrs. Curtis tossed her head and
rose from the table, and Katherine,
rising’ also, followed her mother out.
of the room. |
There was very little said between
the young man and his older friend |
after the ladies had taken their de-
parture, but when Captain MacCauley
was reaiy fo leave, he looked anxiously |
at his companion. 4
“Cousin_John,” he murmured, - “You
won't let any one—" :
“Indeed .not,” Interrupted .the doc
tor, anticipating the lad's plea. *“Tonv
Devon is here to stay, Phil.”
“Could I—could I see her. ¢
Jobn, just a minute?’ the boy faltered. i
“Not tonight, old fellow,” replied the |
doctor, kindly. “Tomorrow, perhaps.”
And Philip had to be content.
t
i
I
came in rather
I said before,”
“I didn’t know
That evening Katherine spent with
her mother in hopeless misery.
“He acted just as if he loved her,”
she wailed at one time in their conver-
sation. “I'd give anything to find out
how long he's known her.”
“So would I,” said Mrs. Curtis.
“Katherine, we've got to get her away
by some means. She’s bewitched John
—she’s brought Paul up from his grave !
—and there's no telling, she may usurp
your place in their wills.” :
“And now she’s hoodwinked Philip,”
zulped Katherine. “Can't you think
of some plan? Can't we claim she
steals or something like that?” I
“John wouldn't believe it, especially
now that Reggie is coming home,” was
the answer. “His letter today said '
Everything
ordinary is blamed on my poor boy.”
And she began again to cry.
“Great Heavens, mother, don't do
that,” screamed Katherine. “Can't you
see weeping doesn’t do any good?
You make me so nervous I could fly.
We've got to make some plan to get
her out of here. While you're snivel-
ing all the time, you can’t think.”
Mrs. Curtis rose and walked to her
bedroom door.
“My children have no sympathy for
me at all,” she shot back. “But you
say I can't think while I cry? Well,
watch me! I'll bet you five dollars
Tony Devon is out of this house before
another week is over.”
® * ® *® * -
The next morning when Reggie
Brown came home, he went directly
to his mother. Of course, as usual,
she wept at the sight of him and be-
gan to upbraid him for his thought-
® " ®
fn
: after this,” he almost groaned.
, only to stay a few minutes.
p—— MERCRUISER,
lessness, Why hadn’t he let her know
{ where he was? Why had he been gone
so long?
Reggie laughed insolently.
“Do I ever let you know where I
go. mater?’ he demanded, droppin;
into an easy chair. “No, I don't, and
I won't! I've come for five hundred
doliars I have to have. Now cough
it ap.”
“T haven’t that much money in the
vorld,” sobbed Mrs. Curtis.
“Then wheedle it out of Cousin
John” he commanded. “I've simply
got to have it!”
Paying no heed to his gruff com-
" mand. Mrs. Curtis rocked to and fro
in excess of agony.
“If Paul had died.” she wept, “we'd
have had a lot of money—"
“Tow do you know?” was Reggie's
, quick query.
“Pecause I know how his will’s
made,” explained his mother. “and
. unless his Caroline 1s found, your
* Cousin John and I get all his money.”
Reginald’s eyes blazed into a flame
of interest. Money was the only thing
that attracted him.
“Why doesn’t he die. then?’ he ask-
od dropping back sullenly. “He's old
enonch and sick enough, isn’t he?”
“Pecause he’s getting well,” replied
hi¢ mother. “That girl—"
“What girl?" Reggie's voice asked
the ouestion in monotone.
“Some huzzy John picked up not
long ago.” was the reply. “She's
brought Paul to life, and John is wild
about her. and now—"
“Where is she?” interjected Reginald.
“With your Cousin Paul. And, Reg-
gie. I'd give five hundred to get her
oat of the house.”
The hoy rose and stood gazing down
the tips of his highly polished
hoots,
“I'd give more than that,” he replied
solemnly, “to know Cousin Paul was
‘in his grave.”
“Then rid us of the girl, and he'll
soon keel over,” said the mother.
But Reginald wasn't interested in
Cousin Paul's new companion. Ie
wanted money and that was all, now
that Tony Devon was dead.
“How. about the five hundred for
me?" he questioned. looking at her
keenly.
“I've said I hadn't it, my son,” said
she. “Now run away and don’t bother
me any more.”
Reggie did leave the room, but not
the house. His mind was filled with
many plans to get hold of the cash
he needed. There were two things had
to be done. Whoever the girl with
Cousin Paul was, she had to go. It
was enough that his mother didn’t
want her in the house. Reggie could
abuse his own women folks; he could
make them ery all he wanted to, but
that anv one, and a stranger too, could
i force his mother into a spell of hys-
teries, he wouldn't tolerate.
Then the other thing to which he
had made up h's mind almost brought
his hair on end when he contemplated
it. The world had to be relieved of
Cousin Paul.
A little drop of something—Reggie
rose to his feet and walked nervously
up and down the room. ‘'Twould be
easy enough to get hold of, for Dr.
John always had plenty of drugs on
| hand.
That afternoon he met Captain Mac-
Cauley on State street. The sight of
Reggie's slim swaggering figure
hrought Philip to a quick decision. He
stopped directly in front of Brown,
and as it was the first time thev'd met
since the memorable moment when
I Reegie had been flung in the Igke, they
looked embarrassedly into each other's
ayes.
“So you decided to come home?"
asted Philip. his voice sharply toned
oggie gathered together his comr-
fr nd oiled his lips. Why should
he © arraid of a Salvation army cap
tp oven if he were rich?
Yer tnoks like Jt. dosn't it? he
wb Ane its none of Your bush
ewny 3
business about how ren
; treat Tony Devon,” Philip began, but
i Reggie’s fresh outburst cut off his
. words.
“Nobody’ll ever treat her any way
“She's
dead, drowned in the lake.”
A horrified expression passed over
Philip's face. Then he realized that
Reginald didn’t know of Tony Devon's
presence in the Pendlehaven home.
“She’s better off then than she was
: the last time you saw her,” he said
"and whirled away.
Twenty minutes later Philip was
talking to John Pendlehaven.
“You promised last night I could see
her today,” he pleaded. “I'll promise
May I go
up?”
“No; I'll call Tony down,” was the
reply. “I don’t want Paul disturbed
today.”
(Continued next week.)
Railway Contract Goes to Germany.
The Rhodesian railways recently
gave a contract for 100 all-steel, high-
sided bogie wagons to a London
agent, representing several German
railway roiling-stock manufacturers.
A large order for railway carriage
and wagon tires required by the
Egyptian state railways has also re-
cently been placed in Germany. The
Egyptian Delta Light Railways, a
British company, have also been in
negotiations with German manufac-
turers for the supply of 260 bogie
wagons, but have now decided to de-
fer action until April next in anticipa-
tion of them-being able to take adyan-
tage of the prospective fall in prices.
Meanwhile, a large contract for wag-
on wheels and axles has already been
placed’ by. this railway company with
Germany.
——If you see it in the “Watch-
man” it's true.