Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 281, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 November 1913 — HE SAVED THE DAY [ARTICLE]

HE SAVED THE DAY

By BURTON CLOSSEN.

Rene eyed the telephone speculatively. It was within easy reach of her hand, just next to the drop lamp. Quentin had not remembered it He had slammed the door and the key had.turned with the click. “You will stay there until you come to your senses,’’ he had told her# “Dad and mother will be home on the 11:16, and they can handle you after that, but by George, I’ll keep you here until they come.” It was about half past ten, she thought. Three quarters of an hour to save the happiness of a lifetime. Once her. father and mother came, it would be the same old heartache over again, the same old arguments and objections that had been advanced for nearly a year. And there was no reason under the sun why they should object to Stanley Pitch. He was young, twenty-four, just out of college, with excellent prospects. Perhaps that was why. Her father had fought his own way up from boyhood in the same firm. He despised a college training as a business asset. Quentin, her only brother, was like his father, and had slipped through schools doggedly, and Into the nearest chair to his father down at the office at eighteen. But Rene was like her mother. She often wondered how her father had ever persuaded Georgette Loiret to marry him and leave Paris for-New York. She loved to listen to her mother’s stories of her home life there, of how her father had admired the. pushing young American’s business pluck and success, and had deemed the union a wise one for her. ' “But did you really love father?* Rene had urged. “Don’t you believe in ' love, mother,.not at all?” It had been the night before their departure on a week-end visit out of town'. Rene and her brother were to remain at the house with the servants. Mrs. Howard had listened with a curious little smile, one hah,d on Rene’s tumbled mass of fair curls, as she bent over her. “They say it comes of its own accord after a wise marriage, dear heart. Is that not better than having it leave of its own accord after an unwise one?” “But why can’t I marry Stanley?” “Your father thinks he is not formed in character yet, that he is too boyish, too unsteady to trust our own daughter’s happiness in his keeping.” “Oh, dear me,” Rene exclaimed, helplessly. “Must I wait years and years until father thinks he is staid and stout like he is?” “Wait a year,” said her mother, ooaxingly. “At least a year.” And she had waited. Stanley had gone abroad for the whole summer. She had not even tried to see him since his return. It seemed as though all the fair winds of fate had united to blow them together again. He not been in New York a day before she met him face to face on a Fifth avenue autobus. They had left it at the park, and tramped all that long splendid autumn afternoon together , over paths that seem sacred to sweethearts. Stanley had mapped out their future. was a brave one, full of hope and promise. As foreign representative of an old established banking firm, he had made good. They would send him back in December to take full charge of their interests In Italy. And there was a certain villa on the outskirts of Rome, with the glimmer of the sea to the south, and north the vineyards and gardens leading up to the olive groves. - Rene could see that villa now, as she -sat in the study a prisoner, and the picture gave her strength. She reached for the receiver and gave his number softly but distinctly. Quentin would never hear through the thick fireproof walls. The answer set her heart beating fast. Was Mr. Fitch in? He was not. He was at his club. She set her teeth, and called the club.. It seemed hours before they called him to the telephone, and she heard his voice. “Stant, listen, dear,” she almost whispered. “Quentin has locked me in the study, can you hear me? And father and mother will be back on the 11:15. It will take them about twenty minutes to make the run up here in the car. I packed what I needed after a quarrel with Quent, and was running away. No, not to you, of course, you foolish boy. I was going to Aunt Lenore’q out at Montclair —what? But I can’t get out. I’m looked in, and Quentin 1b on guard.” "I’ll be there in a few minutes,” said Stanley, a bit hoarsely, and cut her off. She stood up, waiting, holding her breath at what she had done, but the hands on the clock were creeping fast. It was twelve minutes of eleven, and she knew the club was far down town In the West Forties. It would,, take Stanley nearly as long as it would her father and mother to reach her, and even when he did get there, there would be Quentin to deal With, Quentin, twenty-two, but strong and dogged as some young stag. And suddenly Bhe heard a crash in the room beyond. Another came, and a heavy body swung against the intervening wall. She called with all her strength, pushing >against the door. It was unlocked, i swung back, and she faced a stranger. He was eyeing her with a surprised .grin. Quentin called huskily to her: "Rene, call on the ’phone for help!" Before she could move the man had cut the wire. He hesitated, his clasp , knife open, but Rene never stirred. <•' *+ vWj'-, .’v. ,» .. .. •L ‘

Behind her was her father’s private safe, hidden by her dress. ’ “Sit down there,” said the fellow, pointing to a chair away from the door. "Where I can see you. If you make a noise, you get what I gave him.” Instead, she tried to slip by him. The wrenching grasp when he seized her wrist almost made her faint with quick agony, but she saw Quentin lying In the hallway, motionless, and the sight nerved her. She bent'her head and bit the hand that gripped her—anything to keep him engaged until help pame. “You £at!” he muttered, letting go. “Scatch, don’t yer? Get down on your knees and open that safe.” “I’ve forgotten the combination,” said Rene. She bent over the safe, moving the lock around slowly. “Open it,” repeated the burglar. “1 hate to hurt a pretty kid like you, but—” . The electric bell rang sharply. It was the one in the outer hall. Stanley must have been passed the<hallboys. “You’d better go. There’s the police. I rang the alarm.” He lehped past her, down the long hallway to the kitchen. The servants were asleep, or out, she knew. And they were on the eighth floor. Rene opened the door, every nerve trembling. She almost fell into Stanley’s arms, telling what had happened as she clung to him. - “I think he has killed Quentin.” "You give the alarm to the elevator men and have them call the police,’ Stanley told her, steadily, “and don’t lose your nerve now, girlie.” He turned back into the apartment alone, and stepped over Quentin’s form as he made after the fugitive. When the car drew up, and Mrs. Howard alighted'with her husband she found Rene in the marble entrance hall with patrolmen and hall boys trying to get a connected story from her. But upstairs Stanley met them at the door, coat torn, hie hair rumpled, antf'smiling. “It’s all right,” he said, cheerfully. “I got him on the fire escape, and he came back with a little thumb persua sion. You’ll find him in the liner closet, and I hope he has not mussed things up, Mrs. Howard, but I didn’t know where to lock him up, and Quentin needed attention —” • “Quentin got it,” said the latter looming up with a heavily swathed head. “I’ve got an ice pack on, Mates. Behold our burglar catcher, and general surgeon. Rene, I give my con sent.” The police were busy extracting the party in the linen closet. He seemed subdued and glad to leave. As the door closed on the whole group, Stan ley turned to Mr. Howard, with his quick, boyish smile. “Can’t I have her now, please, Mr. Howard?” Howard put out his hand. “There happens to be about $300,00C in that safe in bonds and gold, that I took out on Friday intending to transact a certain deal tomorrow for the firm. You’ve saved the day, boy. ,1 guess you can take her.” (Copyright, 1913, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)