Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 May 1908 — The KING of DIAMONDS. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The KING of DIAMONDS.

By Louis Tracy,

Author of ’‘Wings of the Morning,” “The Pillar of Light," Etc. <

SYNOPSIS TO PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.

Chapter I—At Johnson's Mews, a slum in London, Philip Anson, a well reared boy c-t about fifteen, loses his mother, the only relative, so far us he knows, that he has in the world. He finds a package of letters, many of them from a Sir Philip Morland, refusing aid ti Mrs. Anson. Mrs. Anson was a Miss Morland and was thought by her relatives to have married beneath her station. II —During a great storm Philip naves 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 himaelf 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 & 00., London's largest dealers in diamonds. IV—lsaacsteln 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 sends to Johnson’s Mews to inquire about him. She learns nothing. Philip is dismissed from custody. Vll—Philip agrees to supply Isaacsteln with * quarter of a million pounds sterling worth of diamonds each year for many years. VIII and IX —At Johnson’s Mews, while Philip is preparing to remove the rest of his diamonds, he detects an intruder, who, with the assistance of a policeman, is captured. He is a noted criminal named Jocky Mason. Philip removes his diamonds forever from Johnson’s Mews. X, XI and Xll—lsaacsteln 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.

Mrs. Atherley, in no way deceived, yet gratified by the deference shown to her, gave the girl a questioning glance. “Oh, do let us go, mamma! I am famished, 1 candidly admit It Mr. Anson, I have subsisted since luncheon without a morsel.” "We will be delighted”— began the older lady, but her attention was attracted by the footman holding open the door of the carriage. “Is that carriage yours?” she said to Philip. “Yes.” “Where do we sup?” “At the Savoy.” She flushed slightly. “Not the Savoy," she faltered. “Why not, mother?” cried the girl spiritedly. “Mr. Anson, my mother does not care to meet associates of—of other days. I tell her she thinks far too much of these considerations. Why should she fear to face them simply because we are poor?” “I think, Mrs. Atherley,” he said quietly,, "that you are very rich, far richer than many a mere de famine we shall meet at the restaurant” This neat compliment turned the scale of the mother's hesitation. Indeed, she might well be proud of her beautiful daughter. The two ladies seated themselves In the luxurious landau with an ease that

“I think, Mra. Atherley,” he aaid quietly, "that you are very rich." showed familiarity, but Mrs. Atherley, being a woman, could not belp being troubled in the matter of dress. “The Savoy!” she murmured as the rubber tired vehicle glided away noiselessly. “I have not been there for years. And people at supper are always attired ao fashionably. Could we not’’— The girl put her arm around her waist. “Just for once, mamma, you shall sot care a little bit, and none may be the wiser. Here is Mr. Anson—quite an elegant himself—he would never guess that our gowns were homemade." “The women, dear one—they will know.” “Oh, you deceiver! You said my toilet was perfect, and I am quite sure yours Is.” This logic was incontrovertible. Mrs. .Atherley sighed and asked what took place the previous night Philip Imagined that the girl hung back, so be boldly undertook an explanation. By describing the cabman as apparently intoxicated and certainly impudent he covered a good deal of ground, and the rest was easy. u fYben they reacted the Savoy, the

anxious mother had relegated the incident to the limbo of unimportant things. Only one other matter troubled her—the somewhat unconventional origin of her daughter’s acquaintance with this pleasant mannered young gentleman. She was far too tactful to hint at such a point Just then. It should be reserved for home discussion. Meanwhile they were early arrivals. The head waiter marshaled them to a window table. Mrs. Atberley smiled. She knew her London. “Yon were sure we wonld accompany you?” she cried. "Not at all sure; only hopeful,” said Philip. “Ah, well, it Is good occasionally to revisit the old scenes No, Elf, I will sit here. I will not be en face to that row of tables. Half a dozen people would certainly recognize me, and I do not wish it.”’Elf! The name drove Philip’s thoughts backward with a bound-r----back to a torrential night in a London square and the tearing open of a carriage door in time to save a sweet little girl all robed in white who but for him would have fallen with an overturned vehicle. Elf! It was an unusual pet name. The child of ten years ago would be about the age of the lively and spiritnelle girl by his side. The child bad faced her enraged uncle on that memorable night. The woman had refused to leave him when she thought danger threatened in the park. Could it be possible? He was startled, bewildered, utterly dumfounded by even the remote possibility that another figure from the past should come before him In such wise. “Mr. Anson! What have you found in the menu to perplex you so terribly ? Does danger lurk in the agneau du printemps? Is there a secret horror in the salmi?” Evelyn’s raillery restored his scattered wits.

“May I say something personal?" he Inquired. “About the lamb?” “About you? Mrs. Atherley called you ‘Elf* just now.” “Yes. I regret that I earned the title in ages past. The habits have ceased, but the name remains.” “I once met a little girl named Elf. It was ten years ago on a March evening in a West End square. There had been a carriage accident. A pair of horses were frightened by a terrific thunderstorm. The girl was accompanied by a somewhat selfish gentleman. He Jumped out and left her to her own devices; Indeed, slammed the door in her face. A ragged boy”— “A boy with newspapers—a boy who Spoke quite nicely—saved her by running into the road. The carriage overturned in front of Lord Vanstone’s house. I was the girl!” Both ladies were amazed at the expression on Philip's face. He betrayed such eagerness, such intense longing, such keen anxiety to establish her identity with the child who figured in an accident of no very remarkable na tore, that they could not help being vastly surprised. Their astonishment was not lessened when Philip exclaimed: “And I was the boy!” “But I said 'a boy with newspapers.’ " “Yes, a very urchin, a waif of the streets.” “My uncle struck you.” “And you defended me, saved me /from being locked up, in fact.” "Oh, this is too marvelous. Mother, you must remember”— “My dear one, I remember the event as if it had taken place yesterday. Your uncle would not have cared were you killed that night. All he wanted was your money. Now he has that and mine. He was. Indeed, a wicked man." & “Mother, dear, he Is unhappy. Are we? But. Mr. Anson, what wonderful change in your fortunes has taken place since our first meeting? Is the newspaper trade so thriving that a carriage and pair, a supper at the Savoy, stalls at the Regent’s ball and a bouquet from Rosalind’s are mere trimmings, so to speak, to a busy day?” “Evelyn!” protested Mrs. Atherley. But the girl was too buoyant, too utterly oblivious of all that thia meeting meant to Philip, to cease from chaffing him. “Please, Mr. Anson, do tell ns the secret I will sell any paper you name. I get 5 guineas for singing two songs, I admit, but T may only sing them once a month. I have loads of time to ran about crying: ‘Extrey speshul! 'Orrible disawster!* Or does the magic spring from writing those thrilling stories one sees placarded on the boardings? I believe I could do It I once won a prize in a lady’s magazine for a set of verses, the genuine and unaided production of a girl aged under fourteen.” Philip compelled himself to respond to her mood. He promised to reveal his specific for money making at some future period when she was sufficiently dazzled to accept his words as those of a prophet. ? . With the tact of a woman of the world, Mrs. Atherley lad the conversation back to less personal channels. The great restaurant was rapidly fining noff. The occupants of naigbbor-

Ing tables cast occasional glances at the merry trio which discussed the foibles of the musical world, the ways of agents, the Httle meannesses and petty spites of the greatest artists and incidentally did ample justice to an excellent meal. Philip thought he had never before met such a delightful girt. Evelyn was quite certain that some unknown good fairy had given her this pleasant acquaintance, and Mrs. Atherley, after a silent spasm of regret that her daughter should be denied the position in the greater world for which she was so admirably fitted, abandoned herself to the Infectious gayety of the younger people. Both she and Evelyn confessed to a feeling of renewed surprise when Philip happened to mention his London address. Whatever faults the denizens of Park lane may possess, that of being unknown cannot be reckoned among them, and Mrs. Atberley in a period not very remote knew the occupants of every house In that remarkable thoroughfare. She could not, however, recall the name of Anson. At last a most enjoyable meal came to an end. Philip, supported most ably by a skilled head waiter, spun it ont to the utmost possible limit, but the Inexorable clock would not be denied. He thought the two ladles might prefer to drive home alone, so he seqt them away in his carriage and made an excuse that he had an appointment at his club. In truth he wished to be free to walk far and fast while his excited brain demanded a solution of the strange congeries of events which bad ao crowded Into his life during fortyeight hours. About the time that Philip’s coachman safely deposited Evelyn and her mother at their residence Victor Grenier, again attired in evening dress and accompanied by Jocky Mason, whose huge frame was incased in a suit of gray tweed, entered a fashionable West End bar and found an elegant young person leaning against the marble topped counter, engaged in a war of wits with a barmaid. The arrival of the two men, however, put a quick stop to the badinage. The yeuth quitted the counter with a careless discourtesy that annoyed the girl to whom be was talking. “Well,” he demanded from Grenier, “did anything happen?” “Jimmie,” was the cool reply, “I told you that your stupid ruse last night would result in failure. Far worse; it has supplied you with a rival against whom yon may as well give up the game at once.”

“Rot!” cried the other fiercely, with Bn oath. “Don’t irritate me. Tell Lie plainly what has gone wrong now.” “She was there and sang delightfully. ’Pon my honor, she is a pretty girl. But the man was there, too, and he managed to Improve so well on the opportunity you were kind enough to provide for him, Jimmie, that after her show was over she and her mother met him at the main entrance, and they drove off together to the Savoy in a carriage and pair.” “Then who the deuce is he?” demanded the angry youth. “I tell you. Jimmie, you have no earthly chance. Last night’s intruder was none other than Mr. Philip Anson, the millionaire.” “Philip Anson. Great Scott! Hoof all men in the world!” The younger man became very pale, and his eyes rolled In a species of delirious agitation. But Jocky Mason had caught the name, though he did not comprehend the exact subject of their discourse. “Philip Anson!” he said. “If there’s anything on foot where Philip Anson is concerned, count me as his enemy. Curse him! Curse him to all eternity!" And he struck a table with his great fist until other men began to stare, and Grenier was forced earnestly to counsel his associates to control themselves in such a public place. (To be continued.)