Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 216, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 September 1917 — The Unknown [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Unknown

By F. L. Henderson

(Copyright, 1917, by W. G. Chapman.) Vance Denzil yawned drearily and tossed, rather than placed, the heavy tome in his lap upon the table at his side. “Dry as dust,” he uttered complalnIngly, “and getting worse. I’m not in the mood for law these superb summer days. Last year—” „ There Denzil halted himself abruptly and a shade of irrepressible sadnesscrossed his face. Last year, indeed, presented a contrast: A sweetly secluded country town and Nellie Bryant. It hud seemed as If a golden future of love, peace and happiness was assured the day they became engaged. Tender letters of mutual cheer had passed between them for a month. Then no replies came to his own. And then one day a brother of Nellie visited the city and came to the office where Denzil was studying law. The latter had always looked upon him as a flighty, uncontrollable young cub, whom he tolerated because Nellie was his half-sister. He had liked Nellie’s step-mother less. . “Thought I’d drop In on you.” volubly descanted the shifty-eyed lad. “In fact, mother said to. And Nellie —oh, yes, here Is the packet Nellie said to place it in your hands.” Denzil choked up as he guessed the contents—his letters and a ring. He -could feel the outlines of the latter, undoubtedly the little engagement circlet he had given the only girl he had ever loved, at their last meeting. “You see, Nellie thought you awful nice and attractive and said so, but

you know how girls change their minds. There’s a rich yOung fellow at Rosedale caught her fancy, and I reckon she’s forgotten you. Sorry, but It’s the way of the world, hey?” Denzil could have kicked this rude mauler of his tender emotions into the street, but repressed the inclination for acute bitterness succeeded to soul pain, as, judging from what the lad said, Nellie had simply played with his affections and was a heartless, cruel jade! For a month t)enzil mourned and suffered. Then he got down to work and tried to forget Nellie, engrossed in trying to make a lawyer of himself. “My first lady love,” he soliloquized. “She shall be the last,” and he believed it. , Time had somewhat healed the wounds of the past, but had made him cynical. Upon this present day of his life, as his eye rooved across the court between the building he was in and the, one opposite. Denzil half smiled as his glance rested on a particular window. Its low sash was raised and upon a little stand just beyond it was a lady’s hat. “The unknown,” he spoke slowly and with a whimsical twinkle In his eyes. His heart was not as dead to romance as he had fancied, or feigned. Amid his solitude and unsociableness, a score of times before he had noted that hat. In idle imagination he had woven a sort of mystical thread of romance about It The window apparently let Into a small anteroom to the apartment beyond. Every morning a gracefully formed girl had come to work and had placed her hat aside for the day. He had never seen her face. Once he had caught sight of a wealth of shining golden tresses, of a dainty, unringed band. He had found it entertaining to fancy the features of the girl. It pleased him, it distracted his gjoomy thoughts. The bat was "very ipretty, neat and modest, hence its owner must be possessed of good taste. It had a veil, there was spangle of well-matched ribbons at one side. He would be able to recognize that hat among a thousand. ' “My unknown Is going home earlier titan usual,” suddenly exclaimed Den-' and he started up from his chair.

“Suppose I go down the street and get & glimpse of the face under the hat.” Longing for companionship was the element of the occasion, although Denzll did not take time to analyze it that far. He watched a hand reach for the hat, and it and its wearer vanished from his sight. Denzil was down the stairs promptly. He turned a corner and then another one. Just as he neared the front of the bulldog across the court from the building in which his office was located, he slowed up his pace. “it is she,” he reflected. “Shall I cross the street, or get ahead of her? It won’t do to appear bold or annoying. Why! that’s strange.” What was strange, was that the wearer of the hat had dark hair. He had noted her a blonde. Had distance deluded him? At all events, however, there was a charming neatness of attire and gracefulness of form. He had started in as the adventure —he would pursue It further. Finally, with a well-affected unconsciousness of spying-br proximity, Denzil gained the side of his object of interest. He ventured a glance. It brought disappointment. The veil was down to the lips. It was not a heavy veil, but it quite concealed the upper portion of the .face of the unknown. Then someone jostled him. He was eompelled to fall behind, and he was conterjt now to follow this object of an idle, capri clous - whim and possibly thereby learn her identity. Thus for four squares. At the end of the last there was abruptly interjected into the situation a vivid element of excitement. A thunderous racket filled the air. A dozen shrill tones chorused warning, dread. She of the veiled hat seemed all unconscious of the racket. Glancing down the side street, Denzil sprang Into action as he caught sight of a heavy truck attached to two horses, who were covering distance with prodigious" spurts of speed. They had left the street and were tearing down the pavement. The girl was directly in their course. Within a single palpitating moment they would crush down, upon her. With a superb athletic swing Denzil was at her side. He seized her bodily and swung her back, driving her squarely into the arms of a portly pedestrian—but safe. Himself he did not escape so easily. He experienced a stunning contact and lost sensibility. “Don’t move,” fell upon his hearing, as he lay outstfetched on a lounge in the rear room of a pharmacy. “No bones broken, but only youth and sturdiness could have escaped as you have. Rest a little. Your young lady is all right. She fainted, but they have brought her around all right.” “My young lady!” repeated Denzil vaguely. “Oh, you mean the unknown —” He was interrupted at that moment. She of the hat had entered the room, but minus the hat.

“I wish to thunk my brave preservand then she wavered and fell, staring helplessly, into a chair. The unknown was known —Nellie Bryant. A sight of her roused Denzil by magic. The wise old doctor smiled benignantly and left them together. She was shy, trembling, agitated, he consumed with mystery—and hope. In that strange room a stranger story was told, revealing the wicked wiles of a scheming stepmother, intercepted letters, and forged ones. “I believed you no longer cared for me,” confessed-'Nellie, “but I refused to marry the man my, stepmother had selected. I left home and just to-day got a position with a girl friend. I borrowed her hat to go on an errand and—” “Dear Nellie,” spoke Denzil tenderly, “you can give up that position. I’ll offer you a better one —as my wife.”

“Here is the Packet."