Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 268, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 November 1914 — The Last Shot [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Last Shot

BY FEDERICK. PALMER

(Copyright. 1914. by Charles Scribner's Sana)

u % SYNOPSIS. At their home on the frontier between the Browns and Grays Marta Oalland and her mother, entertaining Colonel Westerthe Grays, see Captain La natron of the Browns injured by a fall In his aeroplane. Ten years later. Westerling, nominal vice but real chief of staff, re-en-forces South La Tlr and meditates on war. "J ar tn tells him of her teaching children the follies of martial patriotism, and begß him to prevent war while he is of staff. /Lanstron calls on Marta at her home. She tells Lanstron that she believes Feller, the gardener, to be a spy. tLanstron confesses it is true and shows her a telephone which Feller has concealed In a secret passage Under the tower for use to benefit the Browns In war emergencies. Lanstron declares his love for Marta. Westerling and the Gr%y prehfier plan to use a trivial International affair to foment warlike patriotism and strike before declaring war, Partow, Brown chief of staff, reveals his plans to \ Lanstron, made vice chief. The Gray army crosses the border line and attacks. The Browns check them. Artillery, infantry, aeroplanes and dirigibles engage. Marta has her first glimpse of war in Its modern, cold, scientific, murderous brutality. The Browns fall back to the Galland house. 'Marta sees a night attack. The Grays attack in force. Feller leaves his secret telephone and goes back to his guns. Hand to hand fighting. The Browns fall back again. Marta asks Lanstron over the phone to appeal to Partow to'stop the fighting. Vandalism in the Galland house. Westerling and his staff occupy the Galland house And he'begins to woo Marta, who apparently throws her fortunes with ov *^ rays an| J offers valuable Information. She calls up Lanstron on the secret telephone and plans to give Westerling information that will trap the Gray army.

CHAPTER XV—Continued. "Yes?” the monosyllable was detached, dismal, labored. "A Woman «an be that!" she exclaimed in an uncertain tone, which grew into the distraction of clipped words and broken sentences. “A woman play-acting—a woman acting the most revolting hypocrisy—influences the issue between two nations! Her deceit deals in the lives of sons precious to fathers and mothers, the fate of frontiers, of institutions! Think of it! Think of machines costing countless millions —machines of flesh and blood, with their destinies shaped by one little bit of lying information! Think of the folly of any civilization that stakes its triumphs on such a gamble! Am I not right? Isn’t it true? Isn’t it?” “Yes, yes, Marta! But—l—” If she were weakening 4t was not his place) to try to strengthen her purpose. “It will the sooner end fighting, won’t it, Lanny?" she asked in a small, tense voice. “Yes.” “And the only real end that means real peace is to prove that the weak can hold back the strong from their tlfiPbshold?" "Yes.” Even now Westerllng might be on the veranda, perhaps waiting for news >that would enable him to crush the weak; to prove that the law of five pounds of human flesh against three, and five bayonets against three, is the law of civilization. “Yes, yes, yes!” The constriction was gone from her throat; there was a drum-beat in her boul. “Depend on me, Lanny!" It was Feller’s favorite phrase spoken by the one who was to take his place. “Yes, I’m ready to make any sacrifice'now. For what am I? What is one woman compared to such a purpose? I don’t care what is said of me or what becomes of me if we can win! Good-by, Lanny, till I call you up again! And God with us!” “God with us!” as Partow had Bald, over and over. The saying had come to be repeated by hard-headed, agnostic staff-officers, who believed that the deity had no relation to the efficiency of gun-fire. The Brown- infantrymen even were beginning to mutter it in the midst of action. Waiting on the path of the second (terrace for Westerling to come, Marta Irealized the full meaning of her task. Day in and day out she was to have suspense at her elbow and the horror of hypocrisy on her conscience, the while keeping her wits nicely balanced. When she saw Westerling appear on-the veranda and start over the lawn she felt dizzy and uncertain of her capabilities.

“I have considered dll that you-have ' said for my guidance and 1 have decided,” she began. She heard her own voice with the relief of a singer in a debut who, with knees shaking, finds that her notes are true. She was looking directly at Westerling in profound seriousness. 'Though knees shook, lips and chin could aid eyes in revealing the painful fatigue of a battle that had raged In the mind of a woman who went away for half an hour to think for herself. “I have concluded,” she went on, -"that it is an occasibn for the sacrifice of private ethics to a great purpose, the sooner to end the slaughter.” . "All true!”' whispered an Inner voice. Its tone was Lanny’s, In the old days of their comradeship. It gave her strength. All true! "Yes, an end—a speedy end!” said Westerling with a fine, Inflexible emphasis. “That Is your prayer and mine and the prayer of all lovers of humanity.” * Tt is little that I know, but such as it Is you shall have it,” she began, conscious of his guarded scrutiny. 'When she told hlih of Bordlr, the wreak point in the first line of the

Browns' defense, she noted no change in his steady look; bat with the mention of Engadlr in the main line she detected a gleam in his eyes that had the merciless delight of a cutting edge of steeL “I have made my sacrifice to some purpose? The information is worth something to you?" she asked wistfully. “Yes, yes! Yes, it promises that way,” he replied thoughtfully. Quietly he began a considerate catechism. Soon she was subtly understanding that her answers lacked the convincing details that he sought She longed to avert her eyes from his for an instant, but she knew that this would be fatal. She felt the force of him directed In professional channels, free of all personal delations, beating as a strong light on her bare statements. How could a woman ever have learned two such vital secrets? How could It happen, that two euch critical points as Bordir and Engadir should go undefended? No tactician, no engineer but would h'ave realized their strategic importance. Did she know what she was saying? How did she get her knowledge? These, she understood, were the real questions that underlay Westerling’s polite indirection. “But I nave not told you the sources of my information! len’t that-like a woman!” she exclaimed. “Yon see, It did not concern me at all at the time I heard it. } didn’t even realize its importance and I didn't hear much,” She proceeded, her Introduction giving time for lmprovization. “You see, Partow was Inspecting the premises with Colonel Lanstron. My mother had known Partow in her younger days when my grandfather was premier. We had them both to luncheon.”

"Yes?” put in Westerling, betraying his eagerness. Partow and Lanstron! Then her source was one of authority, not the gossip of subalterns! “And it occurs to me now that, even while he was our gueßt,” she interjected In sudden indignation—“th%t even while he was our guest Partow was planning to make our grounds a redoubt!” “After luncheon I remember Partow saying, We are going to have a look at the crops,” and they went for a walk out to the knoll where the fighting began.” “Yes! When was this?” Westerling asked keenly. “Only about six' weeks ago,” answered Marta. “Later, I came upon them unexpectedly after they had returned,” she went on. “They were sitting there on that seat concealed by the shrubbery. I was on the terrace steps unobserved

and I couldn’t help overhearing them. Their voices grew louder with the interest of their discussion. I caught something about appropriations and aeroplanes and Bordlr and Engadir, and saw that Lanstron was pleading with his chief. He wanted a sum appropriated for fortifications to be applied to building planes and dirigibles. Finally, Partow consented, and I recall his ei&ct words: They’re shockingly archaically defended, especially Engadir,’ he said, ‘but they can wait until we get further appropriations In the fall!’ ” She was so far under the spell of her own Invention that she believed the reility of her words* reflected In her wide-open eyes which seemed to have nothing to hide. "That Is all,” she exclaimed with a shudder—"all my eavesdropping, all my breach of confidence! If —If It"— and her voice trembled with the Intensity of the one purpose , that was shining with the light of truth through the murk of her deception—“it will

only help to end the slaughter!” She held out her hand convulsively in parting as if she would leave the rest with him. 1 “I think it will,” he said soberly. “I think it will prove that you have done a great eervlce,” he repeated as he caught both her hands, which were cold from her ordeal. His own were warm with the strong beating of hie heart stirred by the promise of what he had just heard. But he did not prolong the grasp. He was as eager to be away to his work as she to be alone. “I think it will. You will know in the morning,” he added. His steps were sturdier than- ever in the power of five against three as he started back to the house. When he reached the veranda, Bouchard, the saturnine chief of intelligence, appeared In the doorway of the diningroom; or, rather, reappeared, for he had been standing there throughout thd interview of Westerling and Marts, whose heads were just visible, above the terrace wall, to his hawk eyes. “A little promenade in the open and my mind made up,” said Westerling. clapping Bouchard on the shoulder. “Something about an attack tofiight?" asked Bouchard.. “You guess right. Call the others.” Five minutes later he was seated at the head of the dining-room table with his chiefs around him waiting for chairman to speak. He asked soi\e categorical questions almost perfunctorily, and the answer to each was, “Ready!” with, in some instances, a qualification—the qualification made by regimental and brigade command- 1 era shat, though they could take the position in front of them, the cost would be heavy. Yes, all were willing and ready for the first general assault' of the war, but they wanted to state the costs as a matter of professional self-defense.

Westerling could pose when It served his purpose. Now he rose and, .going to one of the wall maps, indicated a point with his forefinger. "If we get that we have the most vital position, haven’t we?” Some uttered a word of assent; Borne only nodded. A glance or two of qjirioslty was exchanged. Why should the chief of staff ask so elementary a question? Westerling was not unconscious of the glances or of their meaning. They gave dramatic value to his next remark. "We are going to mass for our main attack in front at Bordir!" "But," exclaimed four or five /'officers at once, “that is the heart of the position! That is—” “I believe It is weak—that it will fall, and tonight!” "You have information, then, infor--mation that I have not?” asked Bouchard. “No more than you,” replied Westerling. “Not as much if you have anything nqw.” “Nothing !*' admitted Bouchard wryly. He lowered his head under Wester ling’s penetrating look in the consciousness of failure. ; “I am going on a conviction —oh putting two and two together!” Westerning announced. “I am going on my. experience as a soldier, as a chief of staff. If I am wrong, I take the responsibility. If lam right, Bordir will be ours before morning. It is settled!” “If you are right, then,” exclaimed Turcas —“well, then it’s genius or—” He did not finish the. sentence. He had been about to say coincidence; while Westerling knew that if he were right all the rising skepticism in certain quarters, owing to the delay in his program, would be silenced. His prfestige would be unassailable.

CHAPTER XVI. Marking time. Soon after dark the attack began. Flashes from gun mouths and glowtyg sheets of flame ‘from rifles made ugly revelry, while -the beams of search-lights swept hither and thither. This kept up till shortly after midnight, when it died down and, where hell’s concert had raged, silent darkness shrouded the hills. Marta knew that Bordir was taken without having to ask Lanstron or waft for confirmation from Westerling. She was seated in the recess of the arbor the next morning, when she heard the approach of those regular, powerful steps whose character had become as distinct to her as those of a member of her own family. Five against three! five against three! they were saying to her; while down the pass road and the castle road ran the stream of wounded from last night’s slaughter. i Posted in the drawing-room of the Galland house were the congratulations of the premier to Westerling, who hud come from the atmosphere of a staff that accorded to him a military insight far above the analysis of ordinary standards. But he was too clever a man vaunt his triumph. He knew how to carry his honors. He accepted success as his due, in a matter-of-course manner that must inspire confidence in further success. "You were right," he said to Marta easily, pleasantly. "We did it—-we did it—we took Bordir with a loss of edly twenty thousand men!" Only twenty thousand! Her revulsion at the bald statement was relieved by the memory of Lenny's word over the telephone after breakfast that the Browns had lost only five thousand. Four to one was a wide ratty, she was thinking. “Then 'the end —then peace is so much nearer?” she asked. "Very much nearer!" he answered earnestly, as he dropped on the bench beside her.

He stretched his arms out on the back of the seat and the relaxed attitude, unusual with him, brought Into relief a new trait of which she had

been hitherto oblivious. The conqueror had become -simply a companionable man. Though be was not sitting close to her, yet, as bis eyes met hers, she had a desire to move away which she knew would be unwise to gratify. She was conscious of a certain > softening charm, a - magnetism that she had sometimes felt in the days when she first knew him. She realized, too, that then the charm had not been mixed with the indescribable, intimate quality that it held nqw. “In the midst of congratulations after the position was taken last night,” he declared, “I confess that I was thinking less of success than of its Source.” He bent on her a look that was warm with gratitude. She lowered her lashes before it; before gratitude that made her part appear in a fresh angle of misery. “There seems to be a kind of fatality about our relations,” he went on. “I lay awake pondering it last night."

His tone held more than gratitude. It had the elation of discovery. “He is going to make it harder than I ever guessed!" echoed, her own thought, in a flutter of confusion. "Yes, it was strange our meeting on the frontier in- peace and then in war!” she exclaimed at random. The sound of the remark struck her as too subdued; as expectant, when her purpose was one of careless deprecation. “I have met a great many women, as you may have imagined,” he proceeded. “They have passed in review. They were simply women, witty- and frail or dull and beautiful, and one meant no more to me than another. Nothing meant anything to me except my profession. But I never forgot you. You planted something in mind: a memory of real companionship." "Yes, I made the prophecy, that came true!" she put in. This ought to bring him back to himself and his ambitions, she thought. “Yes!” he exclaimed, his body stiffening free of the back of the seat. “You realized what was in me. You foresaw the power which was to be mine. The fate that first brought us together made me look you up in the capital. Now it brings us together here on thiß bench after all that has passed in the last twenty-four hours." She realized that he had drawn perceptibly nearer. She wanted to rise aCnd cry out: “Don’t do this! Be the chief of staff, the cbnqueror, crushing the earth with the tread of five against three!" Jt’was the conqueror whom she wanted to trick, not a man whose earnestness was painting her deceit blacker. Far from rising, she made no movement at all; only looked at her hands and allowed him to go on, conscious of the force of a personality that mastered men and armies now warm and appealing in the full tide of another purpose. “The victory that I was thinking of last night was not the taking of Bordir. It was finer than any victory in war. It was selfish —not for army and country, but born of a human weakness triumphant; a human weakness of which my career had robbed me,” he’ continued. “It gave me a joy that even the occupation of the Browns’ capital could not give. I had come as an invader and I had won •your confidence." "In a cause!” she interrupted hurriedly, wildly, to stop him from going further, only to find that her intonation was such that it was drawing him on.

“That fatality seemed to be working Itself out to the soldier so much older than yourself In renewed youth, in another form of ambition. I hoped that there was more than the cause that led you to trust me. I hoped—” Was he testing her? Was he playing a part of his own to make certain that she was not playing one? She looked up swiftly for answer. -There was no gainsaying what she saw In’ his eyes. It was beating Into hers with the power of an overwhelming passion and a maturity of intellect as his egoism admitted a comrade to its throne. Such jbs ever the way of a man In the forties when the clock strikes for him. But who could know better the craft of courtship than one Of Westerling’s experience? He was fighting for victory; to gratify a desire. , "I did not expect this—l—” the words escaped tumultuously and chokingly. , He was bending so close to her that

she felt his breath on her cheek burning hot, and she was sickeningly conscious that he was looking her over in that polnt-by-point manner which she had felt across the tea-tabl.e at the. hotel. This horrible thing in his glance she had sometimes seen in strangers on her travelß, and it-had made her think that she was wise to cany a -little revolver. She wanted to strike him. "Confess! Confess!” called all her' own self-respect “Make an end to your abasement!” , “Confession, after the Browns have given up Bordir! Confession that makes Lanny, not Westerling, your dupe!” came the reply, which might have been telegraphed Into her mind from the high, white forehead of Partow* bending over his maps. “Confession, betraying the cause of the right against the wrong; the three to the conquering five! No! You are in the thing. You may not retreat now.” For a few seconds only the duel of argument thundered In her temples —seconds in which her lips were parted and quivering and her eyes dilated With an agitation which the man at her side could Interpret as he pleased. A prompting devil —a devil roused by that thing In bis eyes—urging a finesse In double-dealing which* only devils understand, made her lips hypnotically turn In a smile, her eyes soften, and sent her hand out to Westerling in a trancelike gesture. For an Instant It rested on his arm with telling pressure, though she felt it burn with shame at the point of contact “We must pot think of that now,” she said. “We must think of nothing 1 personal; of nothing hut your work until your work is done!” The prompting deviPhad not permitted a false note in her voice. Her very pallor, in fixity of idea, served her purpose. Westerling drew a deep breath that seemed - to expand his whole being with greater appreciation of her. Yet that harried hunger, the hanger of a beast, was still in his glance. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

"I’m Going on My Experience as a Soldier.”

“I’m Not a Human Being.”