Jasper County Democrat, Volume 13, Number 48, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 September 1910 — CAMEO KIRBY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

CAMEO KIRBY

By Booth Tarkington AND Harry Leon Wilson

Adapted From the Play of the Same Name by W. B. M- Ferguson CfyrielH. 13*9.bytW»7««irr mjAZi—

CHAPTER XI. M secret!'’ demanded IVy I Aaron, for at tbe magic name, '‘Moreau" his comwSmfn panion and he were instantly all attention. “What secret?" he again peremptorily demanded. “I see them speak together sly,” said Ponlette, nodding her head and screwing up her eyes in a manner that boded ill for the amative and untruthful Mr. Cronp. “I can tell that they did not wish yon to see. Then when you come from dinner Colonel Moreau he hand this to Cronp behind the door. Cronp he keep it in he breast pocket until he fall asleep on poarch just now. I have look- Ii is all those camels'— “Camels!” dryly echoed Aaron, with raised eyebrows. “Oui. miche.' confidently nodded Ponlette. evidently no whit amazed at the idea of the spotted handkerchief being able to accommodate sneb ante mals. “All tb'ce camels tne Colonel gen’eman wear when he is come, wear them on his fob chain.” And she opened the sponed bandkervhief"Cameos. M, Aa r< *n !~ ex ti i med Ann - tole, an exultant .! . a-mg to his eyes. "See. there they are. So w I know. Yon saw Col aei Moreau when he started for that meeting this morning. You saw him when Tom Randall has meeting this morning. You saw him when Tom Randall has give him that pistol of bis father s to go and kill—who? Bnt one man —Cameo Kirby!” he cried, leveling his arm at the startled Aaron. And, as if further proof were needed, evidence which proved beyond a doubt the sinister identity of the unwelcome guest, Cronp entered with a note, which he handed to M. Veandry. “Man on horseback ride all de way from de city wif it,” be explained. Hastily scanning it, tbe yoong creole handed it in silence to Mr. Randall, and the latter read:

I hive t>B» more dew to run down, but , I shall follow this within the hour. I hear a rumor that Colonel Moreau took the journey with you this morning If this is true, secure his portmanteau, and f if he is still at the plantation do not allow him to quit the place till I comeUse any means to prevent his leaving. Do not hesitate at force. '■ Colonel Moreau- i was murdered this morning by Cameo Kirby. TOM KAXDAhU ? Aaron gravely returned the letter to ; his compani- n. and for a long moment i the two men looked at each other in. silence. Then 11. Veandnr quietly placed the paper in his pocket. turned on his heel and strode from the room, f Mr. Bandall obediently following. At last they had arrived at a complete understanding regarding the identity and | disposition of the: troublesome guest who boldly masqueraded under the name of Colonel Moreau. That no i words had been necessary testified to ; the sinister character of the resolve | upon which they had muteiy determined. : From the balcony Larkin Bance. chewing impatiently on his cheroot, waited for Adele to leave the drawing room. It was im[«*-raiive that he should ha ve a final word with Kirby. Escaping from the music room before the others, lie had been In time to dutch a gUmpse of Aaron Randall's face as the latter followed M. Veaudry, and the sight bad not been a comforting one, the old gambler feeling assured that something untoward had hap- ; petted. It would not have surprised him if their respective identities had at last been discovered. “I kitowed we'd get it if we stayed.” be commented gloomily. “I wonder if this means it's come.” glowering at Aaron’s retreating back. - And yet. looking through the window. he discerned Kirby seated at the card table negligently toying with the pasteboards and frittering away the time with Adele as if secure in the . peace and happiness of his own home. Such indifference was maddening. Inexplicable. and the old gambler, with a final imprecation, decided that the moment Adele had gone he would con-

rey a last warning to his partner, and if it was still unheeded he would then think of bis own safety and, however difficult it would prove, leave Kirby to the fate he deserved. Meanwhile that gentleman was calmly pursuing his dialogue with Adele. "You ask me if I am sorry I did not go.” he was saying. “Miss Randall, what is a man who acts against all the reason he has?” '‘Sometimes he is a hero,” sbe> replied, steadily meeting his eyes. , "And sometimes he's a fool,” he added grimly. “Things come so suddenly sometimes that yon can hardly get your breath quick enough to tell what ♦o do. ' Yet.” he added musingly, “you do know all the time, underneath, what you ought to do. For instance, I know that I ought not to be here -bow. i haven't ahv right. And, then, I ought to be hunting the man who stole a silver mounted pistol at the oaks this morning.” "But you can’t do that,” she expostulated, nodding wisely. “Your friends would”— “Miss Randall, I’ve got only one friend In the world, and he's out there on the balcony swearing cuss words at me because I don't go.” She turned away, evincing sudden and vital interest in a book she had read twice over and knew by heart. “Do yon think you have a right to say that you have only one friend?” she asked gently. "I—l hadn't thought of you as a friend. Miss Randall.” “Why? How do you think of me?” suddenly facing him, her eyes halt timid, half daring, demanding a sin cere answer. "Why—just as you. Miss Adele—anc I ought not to think of you at all.” “Do you mean because this unjus. charge is hanging over you? Do you think I care for that? Is there any other reason?” He nodded, permitting the cards to fall from his hand one by one to the table. “Yes; there is another reason. You remember what Mereutio said of his wound—' *Tis neither as deep as a well nor as wide as a church door, but ’twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow; you shall find me a grave man.’ The bad prince ought not to stay too long, you know.” She seated herself at the table and scrutinized him with grave, troubled eyes, her chin reposing daintily on the crux of arched hands. “You must make It clearer to me than that. What are you afraid of my finding out?” He shrugged and smiled. “Life makes some pretty queer shuffles, Miss Randall, and yon can’t fool much with the deck yourself,” he said, somewhat irrelevantly, picking up the cards and unconsciously beginning to riffle them. “If you don't play the game square it’s only a question of time till you get caught, and then nobody willplay with

you. I don't know why Life dealt me the hand I hold. All I know is I've got to play the cards according to rule. Sometimes I've found that mighty, hard. I keep wishing and wishing there'd be a different hand dealt, but wishing won’t change ,it. It was the shuffle that settled it long ago.” "I don’t think, sir. that you’ve said anything that concerns you and me very much.” she commented, glancing up shyly. . ““Concerns you and me,’” he echoed

sadly, and. rising, he began to pace the room. "Miss Randall, let me tell . too something." he added at length, : halting and regarding her fixedly. "One evening toward sunset I- was ; leaning over the rail of a Mississippi river steamboat, and. not finding much pleasure in what I was thinking about* I put mv hand casually into my pocket and drew out a deck of playing | cards, cards that had been used—well, i considerably. I contemplated them a | moment and then let them fall from my hand. They dropped into the water in a kind of little shower. And then a curious thing happened. Those shabby old playing cards floated alongside a rosebush all in bloom that somebody had evidently planted too near a caving back upstream. It seemed as If they kind of hoped to go along with it on its journey, but it didn't look right. The rosebush was too pretty for bad companions like that. And then, dne by one, those shabby playing cards, lying on their backs in the water, began to sink under and drown. Then along came an eddy and caught that pretty rosebush and swung it out into the current, and away it went down the stream, happy arid proud in just a glory of sunshine and sparkle, it served those old pjaying cards right* They ought to have been drowned for trying to keep company so high above them. That's what I thought looking down from the boat’s ralL”

- Without conscious effort or any attempt at elocution Kirby had told the little allegory with simple feeling and sincerity, his manner growing more abstracted until at the conclusion it seemed as if he were speaking to his Inner self, taking counsel with all that was best in him. Silence ensued, while Adele looked dreamily away, and he continued to stare at the cards, but seeing them not. v “Does a man always stop to think whether he has a right or not?’ she ventured at length, speaking so low that he strained forward to catch the words. “Doesn't a woman always want him to?” he gravely returned. ‘.‘Ah. but there is something a woman wants a man to do more than that—she wants him not to give up anything till—he Is beaten.” she whispered. .u/V “Suppose he is the kiutl of man tMt ought to be beaten?” She arose, throwing the scarf about her shoulders, and walked meditatively to the door. “But mightn't it be perhaps—perhaps with one woman,” she whispered, “he couldn’t be beaten even then?” Astonished at her own daring, she gave a little gasp, then incontinently fled, while Kirby stood staring after her, fearing to interpret her words. He turned with a start as Bunce strode through the balcony window. “Well, have you told her goodby ?” snapped Larkin, who had interpreted the foregoing passage as a species of farewell. “No." said Kirby violently, irritated at the interruption. “Well. I reckon it's about time to sit down and take a good hard think,” warned the other, pacing the room like an excited -sentry. “Do you think you could git this girl?” he continued, with heavy sarcasm. “Flow about it when she finds ' . i are—Cameo Kirbv ?” “Easy on that name. Larkin!” “ ‘Easy ou the a* me!’ ” bellowed Bunce. appealing to the ceiling. “Why, it’s been shriekin’ through this house ever since you got here— There’s been two fellers within ten feet of you all the time who never took their eyes ofTfi you—that young Yeaudry and Aaron Randall. Do you reckon they think you’re Colonel Moreau? Why, I seen them leave the house a short spell back, and I’d be willin’ to bet my immortal soul they’re ou to our makeups and are piannin’ to raise h— with us. I tell you this place is gittin’ too hot for Larkin Bunce. You haven’t said good.by to her? Well, then, I’lPsay goodby to you. Somebody’s got to be loose. I wouldn’t be no good to you—nor to me either—in jail. For the last time.” he pleaded, making an imploring gesture with his trembling hands, “are you cornin’ with me?” Kirby, who had quietly resumed his place at the table, now slowly shuffled the deck and carefully inspected the card that had turned up. “No,” he said, with grave finality, “I’m not going with you, my friend. The band’s dealt; I’ll play it out.” “For God’s sake. Gene!” implored Bunce. “Then I got to quit you. You know what this means to me,” he added despairingly. “I hate to go. but there’s no sense in my stayin’.” “No. And I thank you for staying as long as you have,” interrupted Kirby, with a smile, rising and placing his hand on the other’s shoulder. *Tm afraid I haven’t been thinking very much of you, old partner. But I'm going to stay—call It what you like. However, this is not your hand. Larkin, and I don’t want you to help me play it out. Go, by all means, and at once. Did you get a fresh horse?” “A fresli horse? Why, I wouldn't even durst to ask for the one i come on.” cried Bunce, mopping his face. “Y.ou don’t seem to rightly size up tbe mess we're in. Gene. I’ll be lucky to git out ou my own two feet. I don't even know where they put my hat, and I’m skeered to ask for it. Then it ain’t no more use my askin’ you to Come?” “No more use than in your staying.” said Kirby. Bunce hesitated for a moment, then thrust huge hand.

“Goodby, you durned fool!” he gasped, choking up. “Goodby, Larkin, but don't, bet that it is goodby. They won't get me. I'll ride your horse into town for yon tomorrow,*' • J Bunee bestowed a final helpless appeal upon the ceiling, gave his partner's hand a farewell wrench, then lumbered hastily from the room, while Kirby, humming softly to himself, strolled to the open window and. leaning negligently against its frame, gave himself up to retrospect. He wanted to be alone; he wanted To think, to dream, to go over,.and over again every word that Adele had spoken, every smile, every gesture His thoughts were solely of the immediate present and past. For the future he did not care—neither Tom Randall’s homecoming nor his own inevitable umiiaskiug. He wondered what he would have been, what the end would have been, had his early life: been laid in pleasanter lines—less harsh, less lonely. Yes, utter loneliness was a great and sinister factor in molding man’s destiny. What if the last of the ■ Kirbys had proved an honor to the old name, instead of a professional river gambler! And why was he remaining? Was not the allegory of the rosebush too bitterly true? Why had Adele said those last words: “But mightn't it be perhaps with one woman he couldn’t be beaten, even then 7” Yee, it might be, and - It would be, and the truth of it had been proved since the beginning of time. But, even if she were willing and knew him for what he was, could he rightly ask the sacrifice? Yet those words had awakened a fierce longing, had held out a

promise of hope. And he could not utterly renounce, not Just yet. Perhaps— • He turned as a band tugged at his sleeve, turned to confront old Croup, who had stolen noiselessly to Ijis side “Marse Gene, fo’ Gawd’s sake look out!” whis[>ered Croup, his face gray with anxiety, his voice trembling with suppressed excitement. “I’s feared it’s too late fo' yo' to git away. Marse Anatple done ride out de stable lak he's crazy, an’ if yo’ listen to de quiet out vonueh' yo' kind hear hosses a-eomin' down de big road, an' dey cornin’ on de gallop, Marse Gene. Old Croup mighty skeered fo’ yo’, honey.” Kirby turned an attentive ear toward the softly stealing south wind—that harbinger of danger. Yes, the hoof beats were now insistently audible, drawing nearer and nearer with every passing - second. More than ana horse, too—say a dozen, if he was any JUdge; V : “Thank you for the warning, Croup,” he said quietly, preserving his attitude of idle indifference as if discussing the most trivial commonplace. “I quite agree with you that it is too late to think of escape.” (To be Continued.)

HE DISCERNED KIRBY SEATED AT THE CARD TABLE.

“PERHAPS WITH ONE WOMAN HE COULDN'T BE BEATEN.”