Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 219, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 September 1918 — A Woman Again [ARTICLE]

A Woman Again

By JEAN ELGINBROD

{Copyright, 1»18, by th* McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) The rush of the day’s work was nearly over in the office. Jeanette Whipple, trunk operator, facing the clock, saw that in a little less than two hours her time would be up. She wondered if Richard was watching the clock as, impatiently as she. Such a long, long time to six o’clock and the happy walk home. She glanced over the local board. The focal girls were always busy. Their hands flew as they connected line after line. The drops fell quicks «r than they could answer them. The chief operator (No. 25 officially) was working back of the board on the Hayes. 1 The monitor walked up and down, -up and down, back of the girls, who hated her nearly as much as they did their chief. She had been 15 years In the business—and showed it. She was reported to have a soft spot in her heart for the young, curly-headed assistant chief operator at the desk. The messenger boys called him the fellow with the “pretty blue hair.” The girls called him “12%," being assistant to No. 25. Jeanette laughed .to herself as she thought of it. Then she turned down a jack to see if No. 270 was still talking to Ridgeton. Captain Henry’s big Voice boomed in her ear, and she caught the sentence: “—tall and dark, about thirty years •old, been foreman of the Electric company six years.” Mechanically she' turned up thq jack. Then as she realized what she had heard she listened again. Why, Richard was foreman of the Electric company. What could have happened?

“Oh, Lafhrop’ll die. There Is no chance. Don’t know just how it happened yet. .Nash has always borne a good name, though there has been bad blood between him and Lathrop a long time, I hear. Have your men watch sharp. If he did go on that four o’clock I’ll head it oft at Saturne. It gets there about four-thirty. If he got off at Ridgeton, which I doubt, he can’t have gone far yet. I think he will keep on toward the west. Got it all? —five feet eleven, dark, smooth face, well built, brown suit, black derby—all Tight Good-by.’’ 270 rang off. Jeanette took the connection down and leaned back In her chair. The bulletins on the board swayed up and down with a horrible, sickening action. The noise of falling plugy grew faint. ■ The hum of voices died into silence. The board seemed an immeasurable distance away. Then Slowly her brain cleared. She had no trouble in realising now what it all meant. Richard Nash, her Richand Nash, had killed Lathrop. His face came up before her, clear cut as a cameo, the wise, tender face, the frank, steady eyes. Why, "fevery one had hated. Lathrop but Richard. He had only laughed at him. It could not be true. Some one was playing a joke on her. She looked swiftly down the long line of girls. All were working, still and sober. The monitor paced slowly, back and forth. No. 12ft was writing out trouble reports. A drop fell. It was 270. She took it before the recording operator could reach it, and plugged in on the line. Her voice sounded strange to her as she spoke. ' “Toltllne.” ? • "Give me police station. Saturne, Captain Briggs to the telephone. And right away quick, to central.” ‘... She made out the ticket slowly. Her fingers were stiff and cold. She felt numbed all over except her brain. That seemed on fire. She looked down at the small diamond on her left hand. Whether it were true or not, he was Richard —yes —and she loved him. If Ridgeton had not £een able to get a man down to the train in time to search it, after getting Captain Henry’s message, there was a small chance for his escape—perhaps she could make it a bigger one, if he were really on that train, as she thought. Could she keep 270 from getting Saturne before the train passed there, a whole half hour yet? New York was probably his goal. If she could keep the train from being ’searched before it reached New York, he might escape West, or across the water. Was he thinking of their walk home at the end of the day, now, she won-, dered, remorse and fear fighting within him. Or had he had no time to think of her yet? v 270 was calling again. “Can’t you get Saturne, Central? What is the matter?” « • “Wire is busy. I will call you,” she answered clearly. It was only quarter of five now. • \ She cast a furtive look at the monitor, who was coming toward her. She answered two other calls, and made quick connections. The monitor at her board, then Walked slowly away .again. Time seemed to stand still, 4:57—4:58—. , fe 270' called again. Captain Henry’s voice boded trouble lor somebody. “Why can’t I have Saturne? I must have them before four-fifty.” Jeanet e almost laughed. Her blood was op now. 270 must have— Cap-

I tain Henry said so. 270 must not have —Jeanette Whipple said so. Which would win? * - “Wire still busy. I will call you,” she said. Captain Henry fumed. Jeanette listened tn silence. Then he slammed up Ms telephone. She watched the clock and waited. 4:ss—she drew a long breath, and passed the call. In a few moments they were talking. Captain Henry gave the same details that he had given to Ridgeton, gave them like a flash. Then having evidently learned wisdom he passed calls to Lakeville, New Burn and New York at the same time. Jeanette had not thought he would do that. The train did not get into New York until nearly six o’clock. Dared she delay that call so long a time? .1... J ... She took the calls slowly, making him reheat several times, until his voice Was like a cannon roar with anger. Then she set her teeth, folded her arms and waited. Once she made a feint of receiving reports on the calls and after giving -the bogus information courteously to Captain Henry recorded- it on the back, of the tickets. 5:00 N. C. (no circuit). - 5:10 By. (busy). The girl beside her was watching her curiously. How queer Jeanette Whipple was looking. ’ The fight was on. 270 called every other breath. Jeanette tried to keep him good natured. The intense strain was telling on her. She tried to hold herself still and calm’that she might think dearly. She began to realize the terrible thing that had happened. The agony of it sank in slowly. Perhaps she would wake up suddenly and find that she had been dreaming. But 270 was grim reality. He was calling again.

Then for over an hour she stubbornly fought every inch of the way. Captain Henry was a big man and a smart one, but he could not . manage something he did not understand. He had been- obliged to wait for busy wires before this. It was nothing new ‘hor surprising. He never even dreamed that this peculiar combination of busy wires, with other technical terms that sounded perfectly proper, even familiar, was due to a slip of a girl, one-quarter his age, in the central telephone office just four blocks up the street.The numbers danced before her tired eyes. Her face was hot with the excitement. But when six o’clock) came she had just put up the connection between 270 and New York. She had won. She had’ done all she could to save the man she loved. She stumbled out of her chair. She was so rigid she could scarcely move. She put on her hat and cloak with stiff fingers. The girls seemed to ShUn her, or was It her fancy? > They must know it, too. Everybody must know It Why, the world was full of it. Richard was a murderer, flying for his life, and yet so strange and untrue it seemed that, even as she said it, she waited at the street door a minute for his familiar figure. Then she started home alone. ■>

Oh, to know he was safe! She caught her breath sharply ana hurried on. It had evidently been raining. The dark was coming early. The mist clung to her skirts and dampened her hair. The electric light flickered on little pools of wind-swept water in the road. f ~ • Susan met her at the door, her kind, sisterly face placid and smiling. Then she started. “Why, Jeanette dear, what has happened?” But Jeanette could not speak. Something was beating in her throat like a mad thing. She brushed past her and went in. Susan did not shut the door. Jeanette heard her saying: “Have you two been quarreling?” v Who was Susan talking to? A man’s voice answered. “It does look like it,” he said. “She has been over a block ahead of me all the way, going like a race horse." “Richard!” She turned back to the door and tried to call his name, but it was only a gasp. Then he caught her. “Sweetheart, has someone been frightening you? Why, Jeanette— Why. Jeanette 1” With a great effort she struggled out of the darkness that threatened to engulf her. “The murder, Richard, you—

He lifted her up into his arms and, carrying her in, sat down in the bit, old-fashioned rocker with her. "There, there, child. It’s all right Jeanette. Nash Farnsworth shot Lathrop, but he is not going to die, though they thought he was at first Did you get it wrong? It was mixed at first in the excitement Did they ten you it was Richard Nash who did it? HJs first name being my last one, and description being rather alike, did make a little bother. He got away, I guess. I imagine he got that four o’clock train. Why, little girt, you could not think it was I who shot him, could yo«r

And in the hush, while Susan got supper, and the light from the fire played on-the walls, the rocking chair swayed gently with its burden, while she told him how she had played the part of Fate to a man she never saw. After she was quite herself again he looked at her solemnly and shook his head. A' “It’s just as the poets and philosophers always tell us,” he said. “A big door hangs on a little hinge. It takes a woman to fool a man, every time, and to save one, too, God bless her, even If It did not happen to ba me." •T 5 •-