Pearson was not angry, for he understood the circumstances. He
knew how Sercombe loved Nellie Weldon. But he resolved to
look into the mystery with eyes not clouded by love; in fact, he
would go to Madison that very night, for whatever he did must
be done quickly.
He carefully avoided Sercombe on the train, and when he
reached Madison he went to look up one of his acquaintances.
His friend had never heard of Nellie Weldon, but was little
acquainted on Asbury avenue, so Pearson hunted for the name in
a directory. Bailing to find it, he asked the drug clerk if he had
ever heard of her.
‘ ‘ No, ’ ! replied the fellow. ‘ 1 What does she look like ?’ ’
Pearson gave the best description of her he could from what
Sercombe had told him.
‘ ‘ Why, that must be Jack Cummins’s wife. She’s the prettiest
woman in these parts. Jack thinks his eyes of her,” he went on
glibly, “but she likes fun now and then, I guess, and he’s as
jealous as the Old Nick of her. He swears he’ll shoot the first
man he finds gettin’ too gay. Jack is a fine fellow. He was in
here for a cigar not ten minutes ago. The house called him in
unexpectedly. He’s got a good job; he gets— but his listener
was gone.
Pearson understood the whole matter at once. He tore down
the street in the direction of Asbury avenue and Seventh street at
his best gait. If he could only get there ahead of Cummins. He
was soon there, but he could not tell in the darkness which house
was numbered 712. As he was about to ring a bell a man walked
past him, went up the next steps and opened the door. Tom fol
lowed him quickly, and was just about to press the button when
he heard a scream.
“ Robbers! ” shrieked a woman’s voice,
Pearson sprang in and through the hall door just in time to save
his friend’s life. On the opposite side of the parlor he saw Ser
combe grasping the wrist of a badly frightened, but beautiful
woman. Before him, with a chair uplifted, just in the act of
bringing it down on Sercombe’s head, was a strong man.
In that instant the whole mystery cleared itself. Sercombe’s
angel was a married woman. She flirted while her husband was
off on the road, and had been caught by his unexpected return to
night. Sercombe, with innocent indignation, grasped the scream
inff s wrist, while Cummins was about to deal out to him a
robber’s deserts.
The Free Lance.
[November,