Evening Republican, Volume 23, Number 108, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 May 1920 — Page 2

The Man Nobody Knew

(Copyright by W Mead A Co., Inc.)

•ONCE I LOVED HIM.”

Synopsis.—Dick Morgan of Syracuse, N. Y., a failure in life, enlist*d In the Forelsn Legion of the French army under the name of Henry Hilliard, is disfigured by shrapnel. The French surgeons ask for a photograph to guide them in restoring his face. In his rage against life he offers In derision a picture postcard bearing the radiant face of Chris L The surgeons do a good job. On his way back to America he meets Martin Harmon. a New York broker The result is that Morgan, under the name of Hilliard and unrecognized as Morgan, goes back to Syracuse to sell a mining stock. He is determined to make good. He tells people of the death of Morgan. He finds in Angela 'dulien a loyal defender of Dick Morgan. He meets Carol Durant, who had refused to marry him.

CHAPTER IV.—Continued. “And . . . and I want to thnnk yon now," she said in a tone which would have fallen as a blessing upon the ears of any other man alive, “for speaking as though yoa loved him. Anti for all you did for him. Perhaps you know already . . . perhaps know . . . but I’m trying to tell you, because he .was ... he was one of my very dearest friends.” His brain snapped; he bent down to her. “You loved him —too?” ne said, uncontrollably. “Yes,” she said. “Once —I loved him. too!”

Alone in the appointed guest room of the Cullen home —for Mr. Cullen had been as good as his word, and sent a car to fetch his visitor's belongings—Hilliard lighted a cigarette (an acquired taste, but advisable as a minor deception, since he had been notorious for his taste in cigars)and grinned expansively. Leisurely he began to undress, but before his shoes were quite unlaced, he sat back comfortably In his chair and meditated. “All serene so far,” he said. “But when Carol came in . . .” He shook his head vigorously. “Well, it's over . . . anyway. The doctor . . Hilliard’s face darkened. “There’s the man I want to get at 1 Pious old hypocrite! And he didn't think I deserved to be in the family! Sort of hate to let him make money out of this deal, but it’s all in the game. Coals of fire! But ten thousand’s a lot from the doctor . . . we'll say ten -thousand.” He closed his eyes dreamily; and his thoughts reverted from Doctor Durant to the doctor’s daughter. “Carol —Carol!” he murmured. “One minute there, I thought I’d crack. And I was *-one-ot-was, was I? And she loved me —once. Once! Pity it wasn’t twice! Pity she and the doctor didn't say so the night they kicked me out so neatly, Well. ... business is business . . . After they've made their money out of it, and found out this man Hilliard’s some little gold-plated whirlwind all by himself . . . Gad! can’t I see their faces when they get the truth of it!" With the cigarette drooping from his lips, he stood up and swept a clear apace in the table. From his suitcase he exhumed a tablet of thin transparent writing paper of a kind not sold in America; it was the paper on which the letter to Cullen from Richard Morgan had been written, and it was sheer luck that Hilliard had brought the remainder of the tablet from New York with him. He tossed a blob of ink from his fountain pen and inspected it critically. “Too black,” he decided, and went to the bathroom, where he half-emptied the reservoir of the pen and refilled it with water. —— ——— — “That ought to be just about right , sort of pale and mysterious and war-strength.” He seated himself at the table, took the pen in his left hand and inscribed circles on the paper; scribbled a meaningless sentence and laughed gently. “Funny bow some people can be ambidextrous and take so long to realize it If I hadn’t caught a bullet in my arm. and tried to write lefthanded in the h&spital, Pd give myself away up here in no time. Writing’s too blamed distinctive. But, as it is. Left Hand, very large and plain, is Henry Hilliard —” Here he shifted the pen to the other hand —“And Bight—and, small and curlicue, is poor, dead Dicky Morgan—‘one of her dearest friends.’ I’m glad I killed that chap off —he never amounted to a hill of beans, anyway. But this Hilliard person—a live wire, boy, a live wire!” And with a grin of sardonic humor, he wrote on the flimsy paper, slowly and a little irregularly, as though in physical discomfort: “Neuilly, 7-19-15. “No matter what you ever think, no matter what you have ever thought, I have loved you:” '' He grimaced, pondered diligently, and made a correction. “I have always loved you more than nay own life. You said my ideals had fallen—do you think so now? I don’t, deamt; I think they’re almost what

you would have them. And it may-he that simply because of that. I’ve loved you more every day, and —” Hilliard sat back, and his eyes were softly luminous. -Snppo'w. by the luck of the very devil, I should fall in love with her again?" he said aloud. “Suppose I should!” He tossed away his cigarette and rested his head in his hands. “Oh, Carol! I did care . . .!" His shoulders shook once he flung himself out of the chair and took to tramping the floor in n hurricane of ('motion. His face was set in granite; he caught sight of it In a mirror, halted and himself was stunned by the transcendant mask which covered his soul in revolt. The. work of the surgeons was not far short of miraculous; he couldn't upset It,"notliy any effort of his wifi. The eyes might flash, or lower, or chill — the other features were still calm and strong In their splendid glory. Even now. tbe face which he saw reflected in the mirror was one to convert the most hurried of all passing strangers to a new, if unformed, assurance in the brotherhood of man. “Y6u dirty blackguard!” said Hilliard. showing his- teeth. He went pensively back to the fetter. stndled-iL-gazed at the floor"— “But after all,” he said, “no matter what she or anybody else did to mo . . . ami if I can kill two birds with one stone, and he what I’ve wanted to be—all except this damnable way of going about it. . . . She acted as though this infernal lying letter would please her—that’s not the point; it’s a quicker way to get at the doctor. . . . Well, it gets her a letter I never intended to write . . . and Dutout’s war cross, too . . . that’ll make it all the easier. . . . I’ll give her that. Angela was going to have it, still. ... So I was ‘one of her dearest friends,’ was I? What’s that worth to Henry Hilliard, bringing back the news from the front?” He sniffed scornfully. “Ten thousand dollars I hope. And the doctor’ll make twenty out of it. . . . Gad! that’s turning the other cheek with a vengeance! Hanged if I d< n’t almost wish he’d lose his rotten money! But that can’t be helped—l’ll get some satisfaction somehow.” ' , He reread the-unfinished note; folded it, creased it heavily for versimilitude, and gave it the final examination. . . “Business ... is business,” he said, musing. “That was a -pretty sporty thing for me to do . . . to tell her there was a letter. Bit of a chance, too. And after smashing our engagement, she could stand there and tell me . . . oh. rubbish! So suppose we say . . . fifteen thousand from the doctor! But confound it —the better salesman 1 am, the more T get out of him, the more he makesl Whew! Where’s the satisfaction in that? . . .” His pupils had narrowed again, giving the lie tm Hte sweetness of. his~

Hilliard Was Staring Fixedly.

smiling mouth. Then the smile faded and Hilliard was staring fixedly at the document in his hands. “I wonder who in thunder that man Armstrong is?” said the masquerader who had prided himself that- he no iongercared. - '

CHAPTER V. 4 ... —— He wakened early; and in that state of half-conscious revery whlchhas less of worldliriess in it than perhaps any other state of human existence, he lay vegetating, subtly aware tnat he was very peaceful and content; but presently, when his brain had yawned and stretched itself, and begun to set about its usual functions (or, in other words, when Hilliard was sufficiently aroused to resume his usual Intf ospectiveness) he was extremely unhappy, and pot in the least vainglorious. He scowled, and struggled to remember what it that had risen out of thin air and angered him last night, at the very instant es his dropping off

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

By HOLWORTHY HALL

to sleep. Not the Callens, nor Carol himself, nor Armstrong . . . but waft a moment! Who was Armsjrong? Whence and whither, Armstrong? A newcomer to Syracuse (that is. within. "Twrr years)and already proprietary — Hilliard frowned, and rubbed his eyes, and wondered anew. He was a trifle amused and a trifle ashamed of himself; was it credible that he could be jealous of a man who had merely apJprupriamd what Hilliard-had no further Interest in? How inconsistent • . . and yet how superbly characteristic of human nature! HlHiard chuckled to himself in recognition of it and dismissed the proposition as unworthy of further/attention. Dismissed it, yes ... as a child dismisses a rubber ball - with an elastic cord attached to It. From below stairs a Japanese gong chimed softly and Hilliard, without delaying another instant, leaped to the floor. Half an hour later, bathed, shaved and dressed, he descended complacently; the second day of his remarkable performance was begun. The Cullens, father and daughter, were waiting for him. They greeted him cheerfully; and he was glad that grief hadn’t clung l > their eyelids; he would have felt depressed, even althnugh jw hidden grasp the nearest handle of diplomacy, he saw that cheerfulness on his own part would help the situation, for now that his duty as a courier was overyTkerewas no need for long protracted mel-, amholy. It was a cheerful trio, then, that sat down to breakfast; there was no exhilaration about it, hut at least there was no somber cloud of mourning. Angela, behind the coffee urn, had occasional moments of pensiveness, but that was to be expected, and--con-doned ; indeed, Hilliard held himself to be greatly favored by even this. She was imaginative, and Hilliard’s pose was calculated to appeal to a lively imagination. He treated her not as a young girl, but with the respectful deference which belongs to a mature woman, a mistress of a household, and a hostess in her own right. She was charmed and captivated, and so was he? father —most assuredly he was! So charmed, in fact, that instead of

leaving for his office at half-past eight, he lingered until half-past nine; so captivated, that as his limousine slid quietly down the long, steep hill of Janies street, he found himself ascribing a new degree of credit to Dicky Morgan for the simple reason that JMeky Morgan had gained the full esteem of such a friend as Hilliard. A mighty nice young man, thought Cullen. A man of soundest judgment, through and through. A man of brilliant intellect- and razor-edged analysis. Had he not said, and furnished ilhi stra tion s from his broad ex peri ence, exactly what Cullen himself had said, in regard to labor, and materials, and transportation, and production, these half's dozen years? "Cutten sat back .and smiled triumphantly. It does a man good to hear his pet convictions approved, expanded and laid down as axioms by another wise man. Back on Jhe wide veranda Angela had curled up comfortably in the hammock and, beside, her, Hilliard was enjoying a cigarette. He was enjoying, too; this rare interlude of respite; he looked across at Angela, and thanked his stars for the invitation which had made this quiet hour possible. She lifted her eyes, caught Hilliard smiling at her and blushed furiously, not for any shame accruing to her, but because she had arrived at the age of easy blushes.— — “I . . . suppose you’re going over to Carol’s pretty soon,” she said, constrained tosaysbmething and grasping at the first available idea. “So anxious to get rid of me?” he asked, amused. “Oh, no 1” Horror was in her tone and mortification. “Only ... I wanted to talk to you before you saw Carol. Because Carol doesn’t ... I don t think she’ll exactlyleel as-I do about this . . • I know she won’t. Maybe it’s because Dick and I were chums, and she and Dick were ... oh. you know. It’s different. You ought to take that into consideration —when you talk to her, I mean. I don’t mean I don’t care, because I do—terribly—but I ... I can see what it meant to Dick ... and I know how he’d have loved it, and picked this out of every possible way. to . . . end things, but Carol . . . she’s different?’ “How?” Hilliard’s voice was even, butvefy low. “Older,” she said, looking away. ’ “And , . . and they were going to marry each other some time.” “But wasn’t that broken off?” “Yes, but she was waiting.” “Waiting?” -- “Why, of course.” miliardX breath quickened. “I should have guessed that this Mr. Armstrong—” v ' - ‘.•Oh, but that wasn’t until she thought Pick wasn’t ever coming back,, And besides, she isn’t really crazy about him —just lonesome.” “Indeed.” Hilliard compelled himself to relax. “So you think she’ll be . ... hurt?” - “Hurt?” Angela’s voice was thin with emphasis. “Bather l" ... ■

"If-there’s anything you think Td hotter say, or not say—l’—Ue rose, out of sheer inability to endure this ingenuous estimate of Carol’s heartache. A‘Perhaps you'll tell me —beeause it’s 'time for me to be going over.” Angela had risen, too, and stood beside him. Her features were composed, but still suggestive of inward emotions a little too tender to convey. “If there’s anybody in the world,” she said, “who could give Carol any consolation just now, it’s you. I don’t suppose you everTwere a minister, but you look as though everybody could come to you and tell ’most everything, and you’d help £ . . anyway, you’d, try to. So I wish yoO’d . . . you’d sit and listen . ■ . Carol’s got to talk to somebody, and when you’re hurt tlieway_she is, you - cant talk to your family . . . and you were a friend of Dick’s. And . . .’ She swallowed, and went on more slowly. “You can use your own judgment, of course, but if I were in your place — I'd lie.” “Efe I” he repeated, -aghast. “Yes, I would I He ... he must have sent.her some word, Mr. Hilliard! He must have!” She was desperately serious now, and thoroughly aroused. “It means the whole world to her! It’s everything! Why, even I’ve got more than she has, and she was waiting for him to come back to her! I’d lie myself black in the face; but m tell her something— tell -her anything I could - thinV of to make her beiieve he hadn’t stopped caring! It can’t do any harm now. It can’t hurt you. And I won’t even ask you whether you do or not. Only you’re here, and she’ll trust you—” “Will she?” “How could she help it? And . . and that’s all. Please don’t let her think he didn’t care !” Hilliard stood irresolute; chaos in his brain. “I’ll . . . see,” he sale with difficulty. “I'll see.” "Won’t you promise me? I won’t ask you afterward, if you—” “Does it mean so much to you?” “Ever and ever so much. . . . Won’t you please promise?” ■ He gazed at her a moment, yielded with a show of reluctance. “Very well —I promise. Because you’ve asked it. And because it’s the dearest, most generous, most thoughtful thing I ever heard of in all my life. . . . And after that, can’t we be truly friends?” Flushed, perplexed, honored, she gave him her hand with a hesitancy which betrayed the deep sense of compliment she felt. “I don’t think I could be prouder of anything that could possibly happen to me,” she said. Was it worth the blatant mummery he had conceived and executed? Was it not worth that, and infinitely more? She was proud of his friendship . . . and she shared that distinc? tion with no one else in the entire universe. Proud of it! Hilliard was fulsomely abashed. Abashed —yes, and simultaneously glorified. He had come to make the city proud, ignorantly proud, of the man whose deeds had merited no renown. Here, at the very Inception of his plans, a girl was proud of him as he was. Courage. Inspiration. Resolve. He had won her respect by the promise of a lie; and in this instant he vowed to deserve, by other and increasing lies if need be, the prestige he was unalterably committed to gain, whereby the past should be as nothing. and the future should be a magnificent citadel of reconquered dreams. She was proud of him, and she had approved the lie in behalf of Dicky Morgan's memory. Unwittingly, she had sanctioned the very purpose of his coming, and the method of his approach. She had confirmed his own intentions, and given him the will to advance. He was to act as the stanch defender of her playmate perished, and to make of himself a new and a better man, worthy ofthe eulogies which, as trustee, be now accepted for the unworthy Morgan. He consecrated himself to this end. Told himself fiercely that be would succeed. And she was proud of him! It was another omen. It was eleven o’clock to the minute when Hilliard, not quite so blithe as a wedding guest, and yet not altogether as doleful as a mourner, waved his hand to a slender gijl who stood on the veranda of a house diagonally across the street, and went slowly up the Durants’ brick walk. He had anticipated the effect of this pilgrimage ' upon W’ Uervesr be had discounted” it ; and Angela’s advicebad given him an .artificial stimulus for the moment; nevertheless, as the front door opened to him, and he saw, over the head of a smirking maid-servant, a hallway and a vestibule unchanged, his breath came a little faster than usual, and his cheeks went a little darker. It. was, so to speak, a return to a shrine, and a normal man might easily be pardoned for a little sentiment on the side, no matter bow 'often be had changed his religion during the meantime. him ia ■ WF, • ■ -

the living room, disappeared in a quick flurry of skirts; Hilliard, standing at the end of the long, high-roofed apart* ment, found himself surrounded by a thousand goads to remembrance. Not an item was out of place; not an item was otherwise than as he had often recalled it; his memory had been photographic. At the opposite end of the room, flanking the black-marbled fireplace, was a graceful, swan-necked sofa, beautifully carted and splendidly upholstered. Doctor Durant had once remarked that Carol represented the fifth successive generation of her family to be courted on it. And evening after evening, in the ages that had gone before, Hilliard had sat there and dreamed and loved ; and sometimes when Carol had slipped a way from him he had sat there and dreamed and

“Carol!"

loved and smoked while she played Chopin and Rubinstein and Moscowskl to him. And the piano—somewhat battle-scarred hut withal a master instrument —was still over in its accustomed place, with the “Military Polonaise” perched open on the rack. Then his pupils, narrowed to gray necks of Ice; for memory, by one of those tricks against which there is no defense, told him that he stood in this same position, in exactly this same spot, when two years ago the doctor had pronounced his sentence, and Carol, in terrible silence, had then and there confirmed it. His imaginatiomonjured up that scene again; his blood chilled; he could fancy that Carol and the doctor were actually before him, and that he was staring at them in the flesh, and feeling the lash of the doctor's, quiet peroration. „ . At the threshold there was a faint rustle of fabric, and Hilliard turned. Carol! His hands went out mechanically, and hers to him; and Hilliard, tasting the acid of his somber mood, smiled benignly. “I mustn’t keep you waiting,” he said, dropping her hands. “I’ve brought you the letter I spoke about.” He gave it to her, and coughed his embarrassment. “I’m positive it’s for you. And I’m sure you don’t want anything to prevent you from reading it at once, so if you’d rather prefer to have me come back later for the talk you wanted —” He was already moving toward the doorway; she restrained him gently, although her eves couldn't be dragged from the folded paper he had given her. “No,” she said, “please don’t go. I particularly want you to meet my father. Mr. Hilliard. He’s anxious to see you, too. Won’t you wait while I call him?” He inclined his head; followed her with his eyes to the hallway, strained his hearing, and knew that she had opened the letter as soon as she was out of his sight. His lips twitched cynically —and then, as he remembered Angela’s injunction, straightened. After all, this much was pure charity. Down the hallway, there was the reverberation of a closing door, and silence. -

Justice to Dick Morgan’s memory.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

For Musical Beginners.

Builders of modern flats might well take a hint from a unique feature in Buckland’s hotel In Brook street, now undergoing transformation to accommodate the new Guards club. This was a suite of “sound-proof’ rooms called the “Handel suite,’’ after the composer, who lived and died in Bro street, for the use of musically inclined visitors. This admirable arrangement enabled amateurs of such distressing instruments in the hands of the novice as the piccolo or the bagpipes to practice without disturbing

SCRAPS of HUMOR

HAW, HAW! “Do you beiieve in transmigration of souls?” asked the Little Man. “Sure,” replied the Big Man. “Nothing,” replied the Little Man. “But it says here that there are birds in Africa with bills a yard Idng.” “Well, what about them?” demanded the Big Man. “I was just wondering if those birds are not the - spirits of departed plumbers,” replied the Little Man. —Cincinnati Enquirer. Time Enough. “You know, old man, I was going to ask you to dinner with me tonight but I just heard Smith remark that you were going to eat with him.” “Oh —what time do you eat?” “Six o’clock.” “Well, that’s all right, old boy. Smith doesn’t eat till seven.”—Judge.

NO TROUBLE* “Have any trouble with your daughter’s beaux?” “No, I use this ‘Stop-Go’ signal In the parlor.” The Lightning Pioneer. If old Ben Franklin in his day Had paused to loiter and to laugh And only worked eight hours a day We would- have had no telegraph. Beyond His Limits. Ben Said—What’s the matter with Ben All, the whirling dervish? He’s all tied up in a knot. Ben Yusuf—He was out taking his morning spin on the road when an American band came along and he tried to whirl to jazz music. Hay Days. “Do you make a wish when you see a load of hay?” asked the superstitious girl.: “Not if it’s my hay,” replied Farmer Cdrntossel. “With hay at present prices a man with a load of it doesn’t have to wish. He’s already got his.” Not a Chance. - Miss Leftover—Aren’t you afraid to marry on "so short an acquaintance? You know they say, “Marry In haste, repent at leisure.” Miss Hurryon—Dear thing, when I marry my husband won’t have any leisure in which to renent. A Suggestion. “Can you suggest a good name for this new high-power car of mine?” “Why not call it Malthus, since it Is going to keep down the surplus population?”

WHERE THE FAULT LAY. Hubby—lsn’t your Skirt outrageously short? ... Wifey —No, indeed, it is justthat the floor doesn’t come up any higher. ■ - Sky Traffic. When in our airship through the crowd We journey fast or slow. We’ll And a cherub on a cloud To signal “Stop" and “Go.” The Needy Ones. “Do you think the motion picture stars will form a union?” - “Why should thej? It would be more suitable if their employers organized." —Film Fun. The Big Consideration. “You have taken a lofty position In this momentous matter.” “I have,” replied Senator Sorghum. “And I feel a little like an aviator. I can’t stay In the air forever. The big consideration is how I’m going to ■light.” ~ i —-4 Opportunities. “Ours is a country with opportunities for all. Even in Boston you don’t have to operate a book store.” “Eh?” “You can ran a beanery." .