Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 72, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 March 1913 — CALEB CONOVER Railroader [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

CALEB CONOVER Railroader

By ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE

Ciopyright, 1907. Albert PaysonTerhune

CHAPTER XIX. Unexpected News from Italy. |HE great door was swung \ I open. Outlined against the lighted hail behind it was Mrs. Conover. She had seen • their approach, and had hastened out into the veranda to meet them. -Hello!” exclaimed the RailroaderT “This is like old times! Must be twenty years since you came out to—” “Oh, Caleb!” sobbed the little woman, and as the light for the first time fell athwart her face, they saw she was red-eyed and blotched of cheek from much weeping. “Oh, Caleb, how long you’ve been! I telephoned the Democratic Club an hour ago, and they said you'd just —” “What’s the row?” broke in her bewildered husband. “Afraid I’d been ate by your big nephew, or—” “Don’t, don’t joke! Something dreadful’s happened.- - I — ’’ "Then come Into ’ the library and tell us about It quiet,” interrupted Caleb, “unless maybe you’re aiming to call in the savants later for advice.” The footman behind Mrs. Conover, at the door, tried to look as though he had beard nothing, and bitterly regretted he had not been allowed to hear more. But Letty was silenced as she always was when the Railroader adopted his present tone. She obediently scuttled down the hall toward the library, an open letter fluttering in her hand. Caleb followed; . and, at a word from his father, Gerald accompanied his parents. As soon as the library door closed behind the trio, Mrs. Conover’s grief again rose from subdued sniffling to unchecked tears. “Oh, talk out, can’t you?” growled Conover. “What’s up? That letter there? Is —?” “Yes,” gurgled poor Letty, torn between the luxury of weeping and the fear of offending Caleb, “it’s—it’s from Blanche at Lake Como, and—and — Oh, she isn’t married at all—and—!” “WHAT!” roared Conover. Even Gerald dropped his cigarette. “It’s—it’s true, Caleb!” wailed Let ty., “She isn’t. And —” ‘lwhat are .you blithering about? Here!” Conover snatched the letter and glanced over It Then with a snort he thrust It back Into his wife’s hand. "French!" he sniffed, in withering contempt “Why In hell can't the girl write her own language, so folks can understand what she’s—?” “Elio's always written her letters to ■M in French ever since she was at school In Passy. They told her It—** "Never mind what they told her.

What’s the letter say? Ain’t married? Why—!” ■ “She was married. But she isn't And—” “You talk like a man in a care Is d’Antri dead, or —” Her husband’s frenzied impatience, as usual, served to drive she cowed little rabbit-like woman into worse agonies of Incoherence. But by de-

grees, and through dint of much questioning, the whole sordid petty tragedy related in the Como postmarked letter was at length extracted from her. Blanche, thanks to her heavy dower and her prince’s family connections, had cut more or less of a swath in certain strata of continental society during these early days of her stay in d’Antri’s world. Her husband’s ancestral rock with its tumble-down castle had been bought back, and the ed ifice itself put into course of repair. A bijou little house on the Parc Mon ceau and a palazzo at Florence had been added to the Conover fortune’s purchases, and at each of these latter abodes a gaudy fete had been planned to introduce the American princess and her dollars to the class of people who proposed henceforth to endure the one for the sake of the other. Then, according to the letter, a cha teau on the north shore had been rented for the autumn months Here the bride and groom had dwell in Claude Melnotte fashion for barely a week when another woman ap peared. The newcomer was a singer formerly employed at the Scala, but now just returned from a prolonged South American tour. Her voice had given out, and, faced by poverty, she h*d prudently unearthed certain proofs to the effect that, twelve years earlier she had secretly married Prince Ama deo d’Antri, then a youth of twenty two. Thus equipped, she had descended on the happy pair, and a most painfu scene had ensued. D’Antri, con fronted with the documents, had mad« no denial, but had tearfully assured Blanche that he had supposed the wo man dead. Be this as it might, the first wife had been so adamantine as to refuse with scorn the rich allow ance d’Antri offered her, and carried the matter to-the Italian courts. There it was promptly decided that as Amadeo’s princely title was chiefly honorary, and carried no royal prerogatives of morganatic unions, the first carriage held. - “So I am without a home and with out a name,” laboriously translated Letty, punctuating her daughter’s written sentences with snuffle and moan. “What am Ito do? Foor Amadeo is disconsolate. It would break your heart to witness his grief. Bui he cannot help me. Most of our ready money has gone into the houses we have bought and other necessaries. The bulk of my dot is, of course deeded to Amaedo, according to conti nental eustom, and it seems the poor fellow’s ignorance of finance has led him to invest it in such a way that for the present it is all tied up. 1 am without money, without friends Helas! I—” “In other words,” Interpolated Ca leb, “he’s got her cash nailed down, and now he’s kicking her out dead broke, while he and the other wo man —” “I start to-morrow for Paris,” con tinued the letter. “I have Just about money enough to get me there, and 1 shall stay with the Pages until you can send for me. Oh, Mother, please “make it all right with Father if you can. Don’t let him blame poor Ama deo. You know how Father always —” "Well, go on!” commanded the Railroader grimly. “That’s about all,” faltered Letty “The rest is Just —” —■ “A eulogy on the old man, eh? Let it go at that Now —” “Oh, what are we to do?” driveled the poor woman, soppipg her eyes. "And all the—” “All the splurge we made, and the way our dutiful girl was going to boost us into the,Four Hundred?” finished Caleb. “Thank the Lord, it comes too late for a campaign document! But I guess it about wrecks my last sneaking hope of landing on the social hay-pile. Never mind that part of It now. We’ll have a!! the rest of our lives to kick ourselves over the way we’ve been sold. And I’ll give myself the treat, as soon ay I can get away, of running over to Jrurrup and having Friend d’Antri sent to Jail for bigamy and treated real gentle and loving while he’s there, if a mil-lion-dollar tip to the right politicians in Italy will do It. And J guess It will. But I can’t get awav till after this election business is all. cleared 119.

And Blanchq’s got to be brought home right off. Jerry!” His son’s momentary Interest in the family crisis bad already lapsed. He was eitting, stupid, glazed of eye, staring at the floor. At his father’s call he glanced up. “You’ll have' to go to Paris for her," went on Conover, “and bring her back. Take the next steamer. There’B boats sailing on most of the lines Wednesdays. ..Let’s see, this Is Monday. Go to Ballston, as you were going to, to-morrow morning. Get that package from Lanier, and send it to me from there by registered mail. Be sure to have it registered. Then catch the afternoon train to New York. That ought to get you in by five-thirty or six. I’ll telegraph Wendell to-night to find oat what’s the fastest steamer sailing next morning, and tell him to take passage for you. Hunt him up as soon as you reach town. And sleep on board the boat. That’ll cut out any chance of your missing it. Bring Blanche hack here to us by the earliest steamer from France or England that you can gel. And while you’re In Faris, if you can hire some on the quiet to drop over into Italy and put d’Antri into the accident ward of some dago hospital for a month or two, I don’t mind paying five thousand for the job. Come up to my study, and I’ll fix you up financially for the trip, and give yon that note to Bruce Lanier*”

Gerald heard and nodded assent to the rapped-out series of directions with as little emotion as though commanded to transmit some campaign message to Billy dhevlin. His father, noting the quiet attention and response, was pleased therewith.- And the latent fondness and trust which were slowly placing his recent contempt for his only and once adored son, perceptibly increased. As the two men left the room, Mrs. Conover looked lovingly after Gerald through her tears. “Poor dear boy!” she soliloquized. “He’s getting to be quite his old bright self again. When Caleb mentioned his going to New York his eyes lighted up just the way they used to when he was little.” All unaware that she had detected something‘which even the Railroader’s vigilance had overlooked, the good woman once more abandoned herself to the joys of a new and delightfully unrestrained fit of weeping. / When at last she and her husband were together, alone, that night, Mrs. Conover had some thought of commenting upon that fleeting expression ■he had eaught on Gerald's face. But Caleb was so Immersed In his own unpleasant thoughts she 'lacked the courage to Intrude upon his reflections. Which is rather a pity, for had she done so, the inefficient little woman might have changed the history of the Mountain State. (To be Continued.)

Conover snatched the letter and glanced over it.