Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 274, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 November 1915 — Page 2

WHO PAYS?

»I£M ■ LIARS •

(Copyright. ISIS, by Path* Kxchan<®. Inc. Al! Moving Flcrure Right* and all Foreign Copyrights Strictly Reserved.)

FOURTH STORY L The door of No. 492 trembled violently, then lunged from its hinges and the two policemen leaped into the office. The clod that had been Charles Leed, Investment broker, sprawled in a swivel chair, his head and the right hand, still gripping the revolver, reaching nervelessly out upon the littered desk. The desk blotter was still a bit damp. A newspaper scare head there had been heavily marked by a 6B lead pencil: "TITAN SHIP COMPANY FORCED TO WALL." "War smashes Gigantic Enterprise— Mysterious Unknown Financier Behind T. S. Co. Loses Entire Investment." A tiny memorandum slip, torn hurriedly from a book, with the names of the city’s twelve principal banks and trust companies lay upon the floor. And that was all. The Mirror’s police reporter slipped into their puzzled conference. "Sergeant told me a man ’phoned in he was going to kill himself here,” he explained. "What do you buys make of it?** “Well, you’ve got to hand it to the guy—he,made good,” Officer Carney answered. "Ought to make a big story, Harvey. Leed was dirty with money—wasn’t he?” The reporter smiled at the inference that a suicide never takes the biggest jump until his money is gone. Inwardly, he was laughing at their bewilderment A good story? Why, it was a whale, a triple-decker of a story! And a story plainly written! Charles Leed, the eminently wealthy investment broker, had been the Mysterious Unknown who shoveled millions so carelessly into the smashed ship company. With the last glimmering of hope he had written the wealthy heiress. Miss Selma Ashton, ♦hat her millions had been a part of those swept away. But why Selma Ashton, unless she had made a recent demand for money that hastened the climax? The blotter, turned upside down against the mirror, had spelled out the substance of the broker's last note. He consulted again the memorandum slip. Undoubtedly, he had it correctly. Leed was the mysterious backer of the Titan company. The Titan company smashed. Selma Ashton inconveniently required money. Leed tackled the banks and trust companies mentioned on the slip for aid but without success. Then —a subject for the coroner.

11. Mrs. Pressley’s lipa compressed as she read David Dwight's note. The thought of his marriage to the beautiful creature just across the tea things was repugnant to her. Selma Ashton checked the laugh upon her lips, a roguish gleam lighting her eyes. Under lowered lashes she mused aloud. "He’s a dear, old man,” she murmured as though to herself, studying the shades of disgust upon Mrs. Pressley’s countenance with infinite relish. "He’s got simply millions and his wife ■would get it all, and they say a private physician devotes all his time to keeping him alive from hour to hour.” Mrs. Press ley's nose upturned. "He’s so sweet and kindly," Selma sighed. “And even though he is old and feeble you can see for yourself the flame of love burns strong in bis heart Right on the heels of his note he announces he will come to put his important question. A perfect Lochinvar, my dear!" She threw back her head, bursting into peal after peal of ringing laughter. Mrs. Pressley drew herself erect, uncertain whether to assume an air of injured dignity or to join in the mirth. “You dear old thing!” Selma gasped. "Of course, I haven’t any idea of marrying him. In the first place he's old, and in the second place he’s not the man I want, and in the third place he isn’t the man I want to marry and never could be. But you were so funny when you thought f me in earnest. Just for that 11l forgive your scolding about my asking Mr. Leed to send me a hundred thousand dollars. Now, we must be ready to receive the eager wooer.” Her companion ordered the butler to clear the tea table, then slowly followed the beautiful girl up the stairs. She could bear Selma dismissing her maid and moved into the hall, accompanying her to the drawing room. She hurriedly started to withdraw at a flatter of the door-bell but halted Inquiringly as the butler entered with a note for his mistress. The companion gazed with increasing wonderment at the young heiress. A few moments before she had waited down the stairs with the radiant creaS. the happy, care-free girl. And w, in the space ot time it took for r eyes to travel across the lines

by EDWIN BLISS

of a briefly scrawled note, al! the girlishness had faded away, leaving the hard speculative expression there of a cold, calculating, scheming woman. Mrs. Pressley took the note from the outstretched hand. It was brief, cruelly brief and arrogant, the note of the suicide broker who seemed to think his atonement made by the mere snuffing out of his own existence. Everything the girl possessed wiped out by the smash of the Titan Ship company! The door bell pealed and she started violently. Her eyes fastened appealingly, half afraid, upon the girl. But Selma Ashton did not see her, immersed in her own thoughts. At the sound of the bell, her shoulders had straightened. She turned slowly toward the door, half rising as the butler announced David Dwight. Her eyes met those of her companion, and there was a defiant expression in them, defiant yet triumphant A nod of the head, sharp, decisive, dismissed the woman who started to protest against the sacrifice she could see the girl had determined to make. David Dwight had not gained his millions through procrastination. He had come decisively to the point. And yet there was something splendid about him that made the older woman's heart go out to him. She repressed a little cry of pain as she caught the tremolo that all unconsciously crept into his voice. “I do not want you to marry me, Selma, unless you love me. I want you more than anything in the world —but not that much. Not without love, Selma, for I—l know what love means —now." Came a scuffle at the door, following the bell. She could hear the butler’s voice raised in protest against some intrusion, then the awkward scraping of feet immediately preceding an intruder’s rush toward the room where the pair were. Mrs. Pressley peered through the portieres curiously. The newcomer was very young and very breathless and very dishevelled from his encounter with the butler, who was hurriedly pursuing, his hand outstretched as though to grasp the Intruder by the arm. Dwight rose angrily. “Mirror reporter, Miss Ashton! Charles Leed is a suicide after misappropriating your fortune to prop up the Titan Ship company. Anything to say—” With superb art, the girl half rose from the divan. She reached out her

It Was a Whale of a Story the Reporter Found.

hands as though to support herself, then sank gently back, staring incredulously at the reporter, butlar had his hand upon the fellow’s shoulder and David Wright seized the other, hustling him toward the door. Mrs. Pressley could not forego a final glance. Se|ma Ashton was smili;ig, but the smile died away as, patting his waistcoat which had become disarranged in the struggle, Dwight re-entered the room and stood looking down at her. “You did not know, Selma?” He put the question softly, as though fearful of asking but eager for the answer. “You did not know before —” “I understood —what you mean—” she said, quietly, but with a cutting ipcisiveness that showed the depth of her hurt. “You mean —that —” Her voice trembled, broke completely, as she found herself vnable to voice the remainder of her sentence/ 111. There is no poison more subtle nor effective than self-indulgence. Like a narcotic it grips the moral sense and submerges completely every feeling of obligation. But, as with all drugs, there are moments when the effect is bound to wear off and then

TOE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

all the spectral noirors that gaps and grin at the addict have their hour. Times there were when this hour visited Selma, driving her into deceptions for which she hated herself but which caused an intense, unreasoning loathing to rise within her against the price she bad pr.id whereby to drug herself. There was that terrible time when David Dwight asked her to drink to their future happiness. Clear as a deep-toned bell, two words only of the marriage ritual dinned at her ears, throbbed at her stupefied brain. Until death —Until death-j-Untll death — - At her new home she bore herself regs’ly as she met the servants, and was introduced to Doctor Holland, the young man who was In constant attendance on her husband. As his hand touched hers she felt an Instant, unexplained sympathy for him. Week trod upon the heels of week until Selma became conscious that she was keeping track of time, was counting days. She knew in her heart, yet would not admit to herself that time could never begin for her until she was freed from David Dwight. Came the fear that something of this thought might be apparent to the man. And so by look, word and act she strove the more zealously to deceive him.

It was the third month that she came upon him tn the library, came upon him and paused swiftly to retreat if her entrance had not been observed. She caught the rustle of skirts and, looking up, saw Mrs. Pressley and Doctor Holland In a corner of the room. The expression upon the companion’s face was peculiarly accusing and yet triumphant, while that upon the countenance of Doctor Holland, as their eyes met, was halfpity, half —she trembled violently as she tried to analyze exactly what the remainder of that expression told. Though she had fought bitterly against it, there was something so virile, so young, so intrepid about the man’s fight that she had admired him, even though she knew the thing he fought for made him the bitterest enemy she could have owned. This admiration she knew was more than reciprocated. Dwight turned In his chair and she moved toward him. There was the light of a great happiness in his eyes, an expression which seemed to glorify the man. There was something so tremendously splendid about her husband and something so delicately fine and sensitive that seemed continually asserting Itself in his face, causing such hot self-recrlmlnatlon to arise within herself that she hated him for the torture he Innocently caused. There was something electrical in the very air of the room, something that caused her to be afraid. Dwight took her hand, resting it upon his chest, fondling it tenderly. The physician and Mrs. Pressley moved softly from the room. She looked at the millionaire’s face more Intently, her heart fluttering as she saw some great change there. And now, with a great wave of self-hatred at the criminality of the thought, she read it for what it was. David Dwight, her husband, this man to whom she was bound for life, was a well man. David Dwight had regained his health. That life which for so long a time had been aflutter was now fixed and rigidly in place. Even as he drew her soft cheek to his own, kissing her softly, tenderly, she felt herself go cold. She knew he was about to speak, about to tell her of the miracle and felt that she could stand no more now. She was stifling. She must get away before she betrayed herself. Muttering an excuse she lunged blindly up the stairs to her own room. Snatching a scarf she groped her way to the garden, fighting down the bitterness within her heart. She seated herself on a bench in the little summer house, staring sightlessly before her, fighting desperately. She looked up quickly at slow footsteps, her eyes lighting as Doctor Holland strolled down the walk, a book in his hand. For just a second she thought him about to pass on, after bowing to her, then, with a little shrug he seated himself beside her. She did not wish him there and still she was glad of his presence. She could not understand the conflict of absolutely antithetical emotions the ’man stirred up within her. Looking furtively at his troubled face she could see tie was in no mood for chatter on trivialities. In the flurry of the moment she reached out to take the book from his hands. It rested beside her, but her nerves seemed stunned, anesthetized. Something had seemed to break within the very soul of her at the contact of his fingers. She could not move from that magnetic touch. Slowly, gently, so slightly as to be almost imperceptible, his fingers closed upon her own —-just enough so she was aware the man knew what he was doing. She lifted her eyes, desperately, pleadingly. Some power from outside herself caught and held her, breathless and afraid. Doctor Holland rose swiftly, his face wearing the expression of one who has looked upon deadly danger and wishes, yet is afraid, to embrace it Without a word he turned upon his heel and strode toward the house. With lips parted, Selma stared before her. She knew now that the great doctor had come to her with his demand for payment in full. And she knew that evasion of the debt was— ■ ' The rustle of a petticoat caused her to look up in quick anger. Mrs. Pressley stood before her, an accusing, righteous exDiassion on her face that i

told the young wire Instantly the acene that had just transpired was no secret tn the companion. • In a fit of anger, Selma dismissed her from her service and she went straight to the husband, with her story. IV. Dwight looked up from the note Mrs. Pressley had just thrust into his hands, a little puzzled. He had not known before that the suicide broker had notified Selma of the embezzlement of her fortune. Still, what of It now? And why was the unusually good-natured lady in such a towering rage? “But, my dear Mrs. Pressley, why do you give this to me?” he queried. “It merely states what you and I and all the world know —that Mrs. Dwight's fortune was embezzled- Oh, I see,” he cried, a great glow on understanding coming upon him, “the

Caressing the Husband She Does Not Love.

note reached your hands and you kept it from Selma, fearing the shock —” “The note, Mr. Dwight, came before you asked Mrs. Dwight to marry you,” the companion Interrupted sharply. “You had written a trifle earlier that you intended proposing that evening. Miss Ashton- told me that she infended refusing you. Then came this word from Leed —and she married you.” Dwight smiled incredulously, though grim lines had formed about the corners of his mouth. You had better go ediately—” He clipped off the words like steel particles. Mrs. Pressley turned in her hurried retreat but there was something in those eyes that checked her. For a long time the millionaire stood there, his arm rigidly outstretched as though he would drive from the room the evil thoughts the desperate woman had left behind. Then he laughed, laughed with an attempt at lightness. The crumpled ball of paper fell to the floor from his hand. Slowly, slowly he reached down and picked it up, tucking it in his pocket carefully. Then he sank back in the bfg chair, thinking, thinking. It was a month after the discharge of Mrs. Pressley that he stealthily moved from his chair in the library as Selma slipped out into the night air, followed shortly by Doctor Holland. He had tried to convince himself that the change in manner toward him on his wife’s part was due to some intuitional reading of his thoughts. Even now he fought against the impulse which caused him to spy on the pair. Clearly silhouetted against the night he made out her figure. Her face was covered with her hands and ife could see she was sobbing silently to herself. Doctor Holland was strolling toward her, yet Dwight was aware that the physician had not seen her. He slipped quickly behind a stone pillar. He caught the uncertainty, the surprise of the doctor as he caught sight of the woman. He caught the impulse of the man to comfort her, saw the fighting down of that impulse. Then Doctor Hollond placed his hand upon her shoulder, his voice but the gentlest whisper of a sound as he called her name. She turned and looked up at him, then swiftly, some iron band of self-restraint within her snapped, and she flung her arms about his neck. With her head resting upon his chest he murmured words which thundered back to the millionaire behind the pillar, killing something inside the very soul of the man, even as it quickened the life in his body. Suddenly Selma drew away, crouching, fearful, as she regarded the man toward whom she had gone in her hour of weakness. Dwight leaned forward the better to listen. Her voice was broken, wild with a passionate despair as it rang in his ears. •No —No —You must not. You must go. I will—l must be true to him while he lives. You must go—you must —” David Dwight turned quickly and groped his way back to the house. In the hall he paused uncertainly, his hand, upon the knob of the library door as though he had just come from there. Selma entered and he called softly, tenderly to her, putting his arm about her, kissing her tenderly, even as he reached out and clasped the Land of Dr. Holland, who came ih imrcadiately after her. Slowly the pair moved up the stain

and Darld Dwight watched them from beside the library door, Me was cold now. Something had died within him. He frowned, a bit puzzled at the effort at identification. He had it —it was his soul that had been killed. That was why he had laughed inwardly as he placed his arms where those of Holland bad been but a scant few moments before, as he felt the instinctive shrinking away of the woman he had married. That was why he had been so gleeful as Holland’s hand returned no pressure to his own. With a murdered soul, David Dwight found hatred had become Joy.

As Dwight looked about the laboratory and in the bedroom for Doctor Holland he was a bit disappointed to find the young man out. Lately his jealous hatred had grown to such an abnormal extent that he dreaded losing sight of either of the guilty pair for one moment, lest they had fled the agony they were enduring. And today he proposed finally showing his hand, on this first anniversary of his marriage. He had not quite decided what humiliation he would heap upon Holland, Selma’s was already arranged, a humiliation that* lacked nothing of refinement and dignified, courteous cruelty. He smiled as he tapped his coat pocket where a jeweler’s little box lodged which was to be his present to her. As he started to leave the room, the title, Toxicology, seemed fairly to leap from the cover of the opened book lying amid the table litter and strike him between the eyes. He picked it up curiously, turning it over in his hands, reading fragments here and there at the place where it had been opened. Then he examined the little vial with the red skull and cross-bones on its label that had rested beside the book. A grayish shadow turned his healthy color to a dull leaden compromise of hue, as he slowly replaced the little bottle. For a moment he stood there undecided, then, with a shrug of his shoulders, turned and closed the door softly behind him. “While he lives —I shall be true to him.” That was what Selma had said that night in the garden when he had seen her abjure the love she admittedly desired. "While he lives.” Dwight resumed his library chair, pondering this new phase of the situation in his household. Yes, were he in Holland’s place he would probably see to it that his rival did not live long. What had ailed the doctor that he had postponed the act this length of time? Impatiently he looked at his watch. The time had dragged terribly, the hour before the guests arrived for the banquet, the hour immediately before which he intended unnerving his wife so the feast would be torment to her. Slowly-he rose, pausing a moment to compose his expression into the one of tender solicitude he had used as a mask for a long time now. He moved up the stairs, light as a boy, tapping softly at his wife’s door and dismissing the maid with a nod. She submitted to his caresses wearily, the fresh beauty of her a trifle drooping. He had Intended speaking a few commonplaces first, but as his eyes took in the drooping corners to her mouth, the haggard lines about thf eyes and realized what had put them there, he could not trust his self-con-trol. She opened the box wearily, trying to simulate a delight at the present which she knew she could not feel. Once she looked up and caught his eyes upon her eager, cruel, gloating. Her fingers trembled as, instead of a bit of jewelry, she found a crumpled note, opening it slowly. She did not tremble, did not cry out as again she lifted her eyes to Dwight’s, after reading the letter from Charles Leed, telling her that her fortune had been wiped away. Her dulled brain refused to work, her aching heart refused to regard the question of where he obtained possession of that note as of any importance. He motioned her to pick up the card that remained in the < box and she turned it over and over in her hand: "A reminder from your husband that you lied to him and that you have only served the first year of a long sentence.” She read it aloud the second time. Then her lips parroted the words slowly, as would a child learning his lesson. And gradually the threat dawned upon her and she looked hurriedly about her as though seeking some means of escape. That note from Leed —He knew that she had married him for his money. But what else did he know, this man of superlative cruelty? Did he know of Holland? VI. Dwight peered over the balustrade into the dining room, then drew back, even though his eyes looked the more keenly Into the place. He saw his wife touch the physician on the arm, saw her lips move, caught the nervous start of the man, then the light laugh with which he answered as he replaced a vial in his pocket. But David Dwight laughed also. For he had seen the sinister red of the skull and cross bones —the same vial he had seen in the doctor’s laboratory earlier in the day. Charmingly courteous was his manner as he received the guests already arriving. *' —and the man to whom I intrust my health and happiness will propose the first toast.” Even as their friends applauded rapturously at this tribute from the millionaire, Selma turned sharply toward him. In a flash she divined that Dwight knew everything, knew of her

love for Holland quite as well as ho did the reason for her marrying him. It was in his voice. The maternal instinct within her told her the man proposed another revenge. Her eyes met his and she shrank away before the cruel glint there. He bowed gracefully for silence then extended his glass slightly as he continued: “And as a further token of my esteem, Doctor Holland shall drink from my glass.” And then she understood, understood even as the man she loved received the wine glass from the man to whom she was bound. The instinct to cry out aloud a warning was upon her but she repressed it. She turned away with a shudder, conscious that Holland was speaking. She could not catch the words. And suddenly she realized that she loathed this man too. Revenge—revenge —was that all man thought of, lived for, died for? The man she loved had been caught in his own trap and was merely showing himself a thoroughbred. And when he fell dead, who did they think was to pay for the scandal —who was to pay? She half rose from her chair, even as the doctor’s elbow crooked to sip at the wine. A second she remained there, then slumped heavily against the arm holding the glass, her eyes closing in feigned swoon. David Dwight’s arms were about her, lifting her, carrying her to the library and placing her upon the couch. When he left the room, after turning her over to the maid, she listened to the excited chatter, the murmur of suppressed anxiety from the departing guests, lulled by her husband's soothing tones. Out of the corners of her eyes she had seen Holland heavily ascending the stairs, could feel herself listening for some sound that would tell her what he was doing. David Dwight stood in the hallway, shaking hands with the last of the guests when she saw the doctor coming down the stairs, a suit case in his hand. She half rose upon the couch, then moved out into the room, her breath coming in a little hissing sound. She could hear the voices of the men, then, for the first time in their married life, was aware from the shrill note in the millionaire’s voice that he was losing his temper. A second later came the scuffle of feet and Dwight and Holland burst into the room. At sight of her the husband regained control of himself, dropping his hold upon the younger man and laughing. “And so you thought you would leave my house, doctor? You thought you would dodge the collector, eh? You thought you would take what you wished and then evade the payment, my young friend?” Selma drew closer. It seemed to her she had heard the words before. “Well, leave the house, doctor, if you wish. Leave the house and I shall brand you everywhere as the man who tried to kill his patient so he could steal his wife —or rather take the wife he already had stolen. You

Fearing His Love for the Bride, Doctor Holland Decides to Leave.

are at liberty to leave the house, Doctor Holland.” Suddenly the laughter died out of his voice and his face grew grim and terrible, deadly, implacable. “Of course, you cannot leave the house. Neither of you can leave the house.. lam a millionaire and I did not get those millions by leaving things undone, by permitting bills to go uncollected. I gained my money—by buying it; I gained my wife—by purchase; I bought my health.” "Health —that I bought; Life—that I bought from you, Holland. Woman —of purchase —when I bought you, Selma. And in my vaults you shall stay—both of you. Here? in this house you shall remain with )fae until death, by natural means, comes to release you. Here in this house you shall live, both of you, and you shall look upon each other, you shall long for one another —but the jailer will be here in this debtor's prison also.” “A nun and a monk—and a jailer. An unwilling nun, an unwilling monk —and a jailer. And there shall be no whisper of that love; there shall be no caress that show s that love. For I shall be a good jailer. And you shall see to it that I live long, Doctor Holland. And you shall see to it that your husband is made comfortable, Selma. For you are paying the price." WHO PAYS? (End of the Fourth Story.) The title of the next etery Io “Uo» to Herdelf Alone.’’