Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 May 1908 — The KING of DIAMONDS. [ARTICLE]

The KING of DIAMONDS.

By Louis Tracy,

Author of “Wings of the Morning,'* “The Pillar of Light," Etc. COPYRIGHT, 1904, By EDWARD J. CLODB.

SYNOPSIS TO PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Chapter I—At Johnson’s Mews, a slum In London, Philip Anson, a well reared boy of about fifteen, loses his mother, tbo only »< latlve. so far us he knows, that he ha* in the world. He finds a package of letters, many of them from * Sir Philip Morland, refusing aid ti Mrs. Anson. Mrs. Anson was a Miss Morland and was thought by her relatives to have married beneath lie.’ station. ll—During a great storm Philip saves a little girl, addressed as Elf. from being crushed by a carriage. In his squalid apartments Philip, sick of the outlook and discouraged, is about to hang himself when a huge meteor falls in the courtyard. Philip, sympathetic and imaginative, regards it as a message from his mother in heaven. Ill—With some fragments of the meteor Philip goes to a jeweler. He is told that they are diamonds and Is referred to Isaacsteln & Co.. London’s largest dealers in diamonds. IV —Isaacsteln is astounded by the gems Philip shows him and has the boy arrested. V—lsaacsteln explains in court that the gems are doubtless of recent meteoric origin. Vl—The wife of Sir Philip Morland reads In the papers about Philip and his marvelous diamonds and •ends to Johnson's Mews to inquire about him. She learns nothing. Philip Is dismissed from custody. VII —Philip agrees to supply Isaacsteln with a quarter of a million pounds sterling worth of diamonds each year for many years. VIII and IX —At Johnson’s Mews, while Philip ia preparing to remove the rest of his -diamonds, he detects an Intruder, who. with the assistance of a policeman, is •apturcd. He is a noted criminal named Jocky Mason. Philip removes his diamonds forever from Johnson's Mews. X, XI and XII —Isaacsteln ’ sells thirty of Philip's diamonds for £52,000. XIII— Ten years later, when Jocky Mason gets out of prison, he sees the Mary Anson Home For Destitute Boys, which was founded by Philip. XIV —Philip rescues a girl from Insult at the hands of two men. one of whom Is Victor Grenier, an ex-fellow convict of Jocky Mason.

CHAPTER XV. Maida crescent was little more than half a mile beyond the park. Philip thought It due to the lady he had befriended that she fdiould know exactly how he came to Interfere In her behalf. She listened In silence, and when she ■poke there was a suggestion of shy nervousness oddly at variance with her spirited action of a few minutes earlier. “I cannot understand it at all,” she said. “I am seldom out so late. My professional engagements are few and far between, I am sorry to say.” “Were you attending a rehearsal at the Regent’s hall?” “Yes.” “A rehearsal for M. Jowkacsy’s concert?” “Yes.” She volunteered no further information, but Philip was a persistent person. “I do not remember another day in my life previously,” he said, “when so many fortuitous events grouped themselves together In such a curious relationship. Even this adventure Is a sequel to a prior incident. Just before I Joined in the chase after you I had purchased some tickets for Jowkacsy’s musicale. The strangest Item of all Is that I was practically walking away from the direction in which I live when my attention was drawn to the cabman’s behavior.”

“Good gracious!” she protested. “Am I taking you out of your way? I thought you merely happened to be driving after us through the park.” She Invited no confidences. She adhered strictly to the affair of the moment, and he had no option but to follow her cue. “I do not think I have ever been In Regent’s park before.” “What an amazing circumstance — that you should gallop off In such fashion to the rescue of an unknown woman, I mean!” '* “That, again, is original or nearly 30.” “Are you a Londoner?” “To some extent; a little while each year. I live mostly on the sea.” “Oh, that accounts for your gallantry. You are a sailor.” “A yachtsman,” corrected Philip. “How delightful! I have not even seen the sea for ages. One has to work so hard nowadays to obtain recognition. I do not object to the work, for I love music, but the bread and butter aspect is disagreeable, and—and—you have learned tonight how even the small amount of publicity I have achieved brings with It the risk of insult”

“By the way,” he said quietly, striving n,ot to add to the excitement under which she was certainly laboring, “one of those men is named Victor Grenier. You ought to know.” “Thank you. How did you ascertain It?” “The cabman told me. Tie knew me.” “The cabman knew.you?” “Yes; I fly about town in hansoms. I am too lazy to walk.” lie regretted the slip. He was known to the tribe’of Jehus on account of his generosity to their charities. Moreover, was not qqe of the order bls horsemaster? The girl laughed, with a delightful merriment that relieved the tension. “Yon acted like an Indolent person,” she cried. “Do you know, I felt that you would have bauged the heads of those men together in another instant.” Their vehicle slackened pace and curved toward the pavement in a quiet street. “Here I am at home,” she said, and Philip assisted her to alight. “Oh, my music!” she wailed suddenly. “I left it in that horrid cab.” Philip repressed a smile. “Tell me your name,” he said, “and I

will recover It for you early la the morning.” “Are you sure? Oh, what a trouble I have been! How good you are!" “It is not the least trouble. I took the cabman’s number.” “Indeed, Indeed, I am grateful to you. My name is Evelyn Atherley. I would ask you to call some day and see my mother, but—but”— “You do not wish her to hear of your adventure tonight? It would frighten her.” “Sue would be terrified each time I went out alone. Believe me, I can 111 afford n hansom, but I take one late at night to please her, as the walk from the nearest bus route Is lonely.” “You are singing at the Regent’s hall. I will be there. By the way, my name is Philip Anson.” The girl’s big eyes—he fancied they were blue, but in the dim light he could not be sure—looked Into his. There was a sparkle of merriment In them, he thought—a quick perception of a hint delicately conveyed. But she said quite pleasantly: “My last song is at 10:15. I will leave the hall at 10:30. I hope my mother will be with me. I will be most pleased to see you there and thank you more coherently than Is possible now, especially If you recover my music.” The quick trot of a fast driven horse came round the corner.

Philip was assuring her that they would certainly meet next evening when a hansom pulled up behind the waiting vehicle, and the driver said: “Beg pawdon, miss, you left this.” And he held forth the lost portfolio. The cabman was anxious to atone for his share in the night’s proceedings. Philip tipped him In a manner that caused the man to murmur his renewed regret, but he was sternly told to gtx Philip's own reward from Miss Atherley was a warm handshake aud a grateful smile. He drove homeward, wondering how lie could best help her in her career. And she, after kissing her mother "good night,” went to her room to wonder also, but her wonderment was mixed with regret. For such a nice young man as Philip Anson must have troops of friends. He must be rich. He must be far removed from the orbit of a girl who, whatever her birth and breeding, was driven in the flower of her youth to earn her living on the concert platform. Jowkacsy won his laurels with superb ease. Philip, listening to the Polish genius, found himself hoping that the fair English girl might achieve some measure of the rapturous applause bestowed on the long haired enthusiast. He murmured the thought in guarded commonplace to bis muslvil friend.

“Impossible, my dear fellow,” was the instant verdict. “She is mediocre: just an average singer and no more. Music is divine, but its exploiters suffer from the petty jealousies of housemaids. Jowkacsy can have no rivals tonight. Eckstein is a master, of course, but a necessary evil as an accompanist. The other artists are mere fill ups—good or they would not be here, but not in the front rank. Listen. I am connected with a choral society in my county, ahd we once engaged a leading tenor and a second rate baritone. The tenor had a name with fourteen letters, and the baritone only own ed four. The unfortunate local printer selected his type to fill the lines on the bills by size and not by merit. The moment the tenor saw the four letter man looming large across the poster he absolutely refused to sing a note unless fresh bills were printed with his fourteen letters in larger type. And we were compelled to humor him. That Is music from the agent’s point of view.” When Miss Evelyn Atherley advanced to the front of the platform Philip thought he had never seen a woman so beautiful. She had the grace of a perfect figure and the style of an aristocrat. She was dressed in light blue chiffon, with a spray of forgetmenots the color of her eyes arranged across the front of her bodice. Anson experienced a thrill' of pleasure when he saw that thcvbouquet he caused to be forwarded to her contained flowers of a kindred hue. The skill of the florist had correctly interpreted his description, which, Indeed, was largely guesswork on his part. A high forehead and a mouth and chin of patrician mold gave an air of caste to an otherwise sweetly pretty face.

“By Jove,” whispered the critic, “it she sings as well as she looks, I may be mistaken!” Her first song wks Goring Thomas’ “A Summer Night.” Instantly it was perceptible that her voice was true, .the outpouring of a sohl. In volume it was in no way remarkable, but its melodious cadence was fresh, innocent, virginal. The notes were those of a joyous blrct Anson, biased by other sentiments, thought he had never heard her equal, but his friend, after joining in his vigorous applause, gave him a douche of accurate judgment. “The old story,” he growled—“a fine artist retarded, perhaps spoiled, by the need to make too early an appearance. She wants a year ta MHaa. mother

year with Randegger or Leoni, and she might, if all went well, be a star." His hearer chafed inwardly, but only hazarded the opinion that she was already a singer of rare intensity, while as for appearance—"Ah, there you are right,” was the ready rejoinder. “The Gayety is her right place. She would be admirable in light opera.” The conversation languished The suggestion that Miss Atherley was best fitted for the stage was displeasing to Philip. He scarce knew why. The girl was given a hearty encore, and her next song was a simple humorous little ballad about a miller and a maid. It was charmingly sung and acted. The critic leaned back in his chair and smiled at Philip with the indulgent air of the man who says: “I told you so." Soon Philip rose to go. “Good heavens, man, you do not intend to leave before Jowkacsy plays the suite in F minor?” queried bls amazed acquaintance. “Sorry. I have an engagement.” He quitted the ball, his tall figure riveting a good many eyes as he made his way toward an exit One man, watching from the gallery, smiled cynically and rose at the same time. Philip found the foyer to be practically deserted. He asked a policeman on duty to call Mr. Anson’s carriage from the ranks, and a footman came, quickly running lest he had Incurred a reprimand for not being on the lookout for his master at the entrance.

In a very little time Miss Atherley appeared, and with her a handsome elderly lady, who was quite obviously her mother. The girl was radiant. She never expected a cordial reception from a high class audience, such as gathered to worship the violinist. "Mother dear,” she cried, “this is Mr. Anson, who very kindly came to my assistance when a cabman gave me some trouble last night.” Mrs. Atherley gave him a pleasant greeting, but turned to her daughter. “Why didn’t you tell me of any dispute when you returned home? You know how" nervous I am when you are out at night.” The girl laughed merrily. “You have answered your own question, carissima. That is precisely why I did not tell you.” “Miss Atherley was good enough to permit me to meet you here after the concert,” put in Philip, “so that 1 might add my assurances to her own that the affair was of no consequence. It is early yet. Will you come with me for some supper, and thus give me a chance of telling you how much I enjoyed your daughter’s singing?” Wise Philip, to pay court to the mother. (To be continued.)