Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 June 1908 — The KING of DIAMONDS. [ARTICLE]

The KING of DIAMONDS.

By Louis Tracy,

Author of “Wing* of the Morning,” “The Pillar of 4 Light.” Etc. ♦ V COPYRIGHT. 1B0«. By EDWARD J. CLODS. « I

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, tfto only Klatlve, so far us he Knows, that ho has In the world. He finds a package of letters, many of them from a Sir Philip Morland, refusing aid to Mrs. Anson. Mrs. Anson was a Miss Morland and was thought by he- relatives to have married beneath her 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, m—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, rv—lsaacsteln is astounded by the gems Philip shows him and has the boy arrested. V—lsaacsteln explains In court thkt the gems are doubtless of recent rrteteoric 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. VII —Philip agrees to supply Isaacsteln with a quarter of a million pounds sterling worth of diamonds each year for many years. VIII and^TX —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 Jonnson’s Mews. X, XI and Xll—lsaacsteili 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. XV and XVI —The girl rescued by Philip Is a Miss Atherley, an opera singer, who proves to be the Elf of Philip’s adventure of many years before. Grenier’s companion was a nephew of Grenier. His name is Langdon. XVII —Philip receives a letter telling him that Sir Philip Morland Is dying and begging him to come. A man calling himself “Dr. Williams” meets Philip at the depot and escorts him to the house. XVlll—Philip finds too late that he has fallen Into a trap set by Grenier, Jocky Mason and Langdon. Philip is struck violently on the head by Mason and Is supposed to be dead. His body is stripped naked and thrown from a cliff Into the sea. Grenier, who resembles Philip, Is to take his place In the world and get hold of his money for the gang.

CHAPTER XX. PHILIP was thrown into the sea on a Tuesday. Jocky Mason reached London on Wednesday and kept his appointment with Inspector Bradley on Thursday evening. The inspector received him graciously, thus chasing from the ex-convict’s mind a lurking suspicion that matters were awry. There is a curious sympathy between the police and well known criminals. They meet with friendliness and exchange pleasantries, as a watch dog might fraternize with *a wolf in oft hours. But Mason had no responsive smile or ready quip. “What’s up?” he demanded morosely. “You sent for me. Here I am. I would have brought my ticket sooner if you hadn’t written.” “All right. Mason. Keep your wool on. Do you remember Superintendent Robinson?” “Him that was inspector in Whitechapel when I was put away? Rather.” “Well, some friends of yours have been Inquiring from him as to your whereabouts. He sent a message round, and I promised that you should meet them if you showed up. I was half afraid you had bolted to the States.” “Friends! I have no friends.” “Oh, yes, you have—very dear friends, indeed.” “Then where are they?” He glared around the roomy police office, but it was only tenanted by policemen attending to various books or chatting quietly across a huge counter. His surly attitude did not diminish the inspector’s kindliness. “Don’t be so doubtful on that point. Mason. Have you no children?” Something in the police officer’s eyes gave the man a clew. His swarthy (face flushed and his hands clinched. “Yes,” he said huskily, “I left two boys. Their mother died. They were lost I have looked for them everywhere.” Inspector Bradley pointed to a door. “Go into that room,” he said quietly, "and you will find them. They are waiting there for you.” Mason crossed the sanded floor like one walking in his sleep. He experienced no emotion. He was a man stunned for the nonce. He opened the door of the waiting room and entered cautiously. He might have expected a hoax, a Jest from his attitude. Two stalwart young men were standing there talking. Their chat ceased as he appeared. For an appreciable time father and sons looked at each other with the curiosity of strangers. He knew them first. He saw himself, no less than their unfortunate and suffering mother, in their erect figures, the contour of their pleasant faces. To them he was unknown. .The eldest boy was ten years old, the younger eight, when they last met. But they read a message in the man’s hungering eyes, and they were the first to break the suspense. "Father!” cried John. The other boy sprang to him without a word. He took them in his arms. He was choked. From some buried font came long forgotten tears. He murmured their names, but not a coherent sentagce could he utter.

They were splendid fellows, be thought, so tall and well knit, so nice mannered, so thoroughly overjoyed to meet him.

That was the best of It. They had sought him voluntarily. They knew his record and were not ashamed to own him. During the long days and nights of ceaseless Inquiry he was ever tormented by the dread lest his children, if living, should look on him as accursed, a blot on their existence.

He half hoped that he might discover them in some vile slum, where crime was hallowed and convicts were heroes. He never pictured them as honest, well meaning youths, sons of whom any father might be proud, for in that possibility lurked the gnawing terror of shame and repudiation. Mason’s heart was full. He could not thank God for his mercy. That resource of poor humanity was denied him, and. to his credit be It said, he was no hypocrite. His seared soul awoke to softer feelings, as his eyes, his ears, his very heart, drank In fuller knowledge of them, but he was tormented In bis joy by an agonized pang of remorse. Oh, that fie could have met them with hands free from further crimel

In some vague way he felt that his punisbmeut for Philip Anson’s death would be meted out by a sterner justice than the law of the land. He was too hard a man to yield instantly. He crushed back the rising flood of horror that threatened to overwhelm him in this moment of happiness.. He forced himself again to answer their anxious inquiries, to note their little airs of manliness and self reliance, to see with growing wonder that they were well dressed and wore spotless linen. A police station was no place for confidences. Indeed both boys were awed by their surroundings. They passed into the outer office, and Mason went to thank Inspector Bradley.

“Don’t forget your ticket,” whispered the pleased officer. The reminder Jarred, but it was un avoidable. Mason got his ticket Indorsed, the lads looking on shyly the while, and the three regained the freedom of the street. “Let us find some place to sit down and have a drink,” suggested Mason. “No, father," said John, with a frank smile. “Neither of us takes drink. Come home with us. We have a room ready for you.” “I have lodgings”— “You can go there tomorrow get your belongings.” “Yes. Jump into this cab,”"urged Millie. “We live in Westminster. It is not very far.” v Mason was fascinated by the boys’ pleasant assumption of authority. They spoke like young gentlemen, with the accent that betokens a good education. He yielded without a protest. They sat three abreast in a hansom, and the vehicle scurried off toward the Westminster bridge road. Mason was in the center. His giant form leaned over the closed doors of the cab, but he turned his head with interested eagerness as one or other of his sons addressed him. “I suppose, father, you are wondering how we came to meet in such a place,” said John. "It might puzzle me if I found time to think.” “Well, the superintendent arranged everything. Unfortunately, he was •way on his holidays when—when you .were released —or we would have met you then, and his deputy was not aware of the circumstances. As soon as the superintendent returned he wrote to the governor and was very much annoyed to find that you had slipped away in the meantime.” “He wouldn’t be so annoyed if he was there himself,” growled Mason good humoredly. “Oh, John didn’t mean that, father,” broke in Willie. “The annoyance was his and ours. You see, we had not known very long where you were. We didn’t even know you were alive.” “Of course, of course. Somebody has been looking after you well. That’s clear enough. They wouldn’t be always telling a pair of boys that their father was in Portland.” “It gave us such a shock when we heard the truth,” said downright John. “But we were so glad to hear that our father was living and that we should soon see him,” explained the younger. “When did you hear first?” “About four months ago.. Just before we took our present situations. We are saddlers and ornamental leather workers. Between us we earn quite a decent living. Don’t we, John?” “In fifteen weeks we have saved enough to pay for half our furniture besides keeping ourselves well. There’s plenty to eat, dad. You won’t starve, big as you are.” They all laughed. The cab was passing St. Thomas’ hospital. Across the bridge a noble prospect met their eyes. London had a glamour for Mason that night it never held before. ... “So Robinson wrote to Bradley, knowing that I would report myself today, and Bradley arranged”— “Who Is Robinson, father?’ Interrupted John.

"‘The superintendent, to be sure. He used to be Inspector at Whitechapel.” / “He Is not the man we mean. We are talking of Mr. Giles, superintendent of the Mary Anson home.” The two boys felt their father’s start of dismay, of positive affright They wondered what bad happened to give him such a shock. Peering at him sideways from the corners of the hansom, they could see the quick pallor of his swarthy face. “You forget, John," put In the adroit William, “that father knows as little about our lives as we knew about his until very recently. When we reach our flat we must begin at the beginning and tell him everything.” “There isn’t much to tell,” cried John. “When poor mother died we were taken care of by a gentleman whom Mr. Philip asked to look after us. When the Mary Anson home was built we were among the first batch of inmates. If ever a young man has done good In this world, it Is Mr. Philip Anson. See what he did for us. Mother was nursed and tended with the utmost kindness, but her life could not be saved. We were rescued from the workhouse, taugbt well and fed well and given such instruction In a first class trade that even at our age we can earn £5 a week between us. And what he has done for us he does for hundreds of others. God bless Philip Anson, I say!” “Amen!” sald_hlt brother. (To be continued.)