Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 31, Number 266, 23 October 1906 — Page 7

The Richmond Palladium, Tuesday, October 23, 1906.

Page Seven

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By KATHERINE CECIL THURSTON, Author of The Circle," Etc pp pp Copyright, 1904. by Harper Brother

f "You hare no friends?" he said. "Your life Is worth nothing to you 7" Loderjraised his head. "I thought I had conveyed that impression." . - "You are an absolutely free man." "No man is free who works for his bread. If things had been different I might hare been In such shoes as yours, sauntering In legislative byways. My hopes turned that way once. But hopes, like more substantial things, belong to the past" lie stopped abruptly and looked at his companion. The change in Cbilcote had become more acute. lie sat lingering his cigarette, his brows drawn down, his lips set nervously In a conflict of emotions. For a space he stayed very, still, avoiding Loder's eyes; then, as if decision had suddenly come to him, he turned and met his ggief -How If there was a future," he said, "as well as a past?" CHAPTER V. OR the space of a minute there was silence in the room; then OutsideVh the still night three clocks simultaneously chimed 31, and their announcement was taken up and echoed by half a dozen others, loud and faint, hoarse and resonant, for all through the hours of darkness the neighborhood of Fleet street Is alive with chimes. Cbilcote, startled by the jangle, rose from his seat. Then, as if driven by an uncontrollable Impulse, he spoke again. . "You probably think I am mad" he began. Loder took his pipe out of his mouth. "I am not 60 presumptuous," he said quietly. For a space the other eyed him silently, as If trying to gauge his thoughts. Then once more he broke into speech. "Look here," he said. "I came tonight to make a proposition. When I have made it you'll first of all jeer at me, as I Jeered when I made it to myself. Then you'll see Its possibilities, as I did. Then," he paused and glanced around the room nervously, "then you'll accept it, as I did." In the uneasy haste of his speech his words broke off almost unintelligibly. Involuntarily Loder lifted his head to retort, but Chilcote put up his hand. His face was set with the obstinate determination that weak men sometimes exhibit. "Before I begin I want to say .that I am not drunk that I am neither mad nor drunk." He looked " fully at his companion with his restless glance. "I am quite sane quite reasonable." Again Loder essayed to speak, but again he put up his hand. "No. Hear me, out. You told me something of your story. I'll tell you something of mine. You'll be the first person, man or woman, that I have confided In for ten years. Y'ou say you have been treated shabbily. I have treated myself shabbily, which is harder, to reconcile. I had every chance, and I chucked every chance away." There was a strained pause, then again Loder lifted his head. "Morphia?" he said very quietly." Chilcote wheeled aroifhd with a .scared gesture. "IIowdid you know that?" he asked sharply. The other smiled. "It wasn't guessing. It wasn't even deduction. Y'ou told me or as good as told me In the fog when we talked of Lexington. Y'ou were unstrung that night, and I well, perhaps one getaoverobservant from living alone." He. smiled again. Chilcote - 'coflapsed 'into "his" former seat and passed his handkerchief across his forehead. Loder watched him for a space. Then he spoke. "Why don't you pull up?" he said. "You are a young man still.

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"Whu don't you, drop the thing T" Why don't you drop the thing before it gets too late?" His face was unsympathetic, and below the question in his voice lay a note of hardness. Chilcote returned his glance. The suggestion of reproof had accentuated his pallor. Under his excitement he looked ill and worn. "Y'ou might talk till doomsday, but t every word would be wasted," he said i Irritably. "I'm past praying for by

something like six years." "Then why come here?" Loder was pulling hard on his pipe. "I'm not a dealer in sympathy."

"I don't require sympathy. Chilcote : rose again. He was still agitated, but the agitation was quieter. "I want a , much more expensive thing than symi l)athy, and I am willing to pay for it." I The other turned and looked at him. have no possession in the world that vould be worth, a fiver to you." he said

coldly ' "You're either under a delusion or you're wasting my time." Chilcote laughed nervously. "Wait," he said. "Wait. I only ask you to wait. First let me sketch you my position. It won't take many words." "My grandfather was a Chilcote of Westmoreland. lie wa3 one of the first of his day and his class to recognize that there was a future in trade, so, breaking his own little twig from the family tree, he went south to Wark and entered a shipownlng firm. In thirty years' time he died, the owner of one of the biggest trades in England, having married the daughter of his chief. My father was twenty-four and still at Oxford when he inherited. Almost his first act was to reverse my grandfather's . early move by going north and piecing together the family friendship. He married his first cousin, and then, with the Chilcote prestige revived and the shipping money to back

It, he entered on his ambition, which was to represent East Wark in the Con servative interest. It was a big fight. but he won as much by personal in fluen-e as by any other. He was an aristocrat, but he was a keen business man as well. The combination carries weight with your lower classes. He never did much in the house, but he was a power to his party in Wark They still use his name there to con jure with." Loder leaned forward interestedly. "Robert Chilcote?" he said. "I have heard of him. One of those fine, unos tentatious figures strong in action, little narrow in outlook, perhaps, but essential to a country's staying power, You have every reason to be proud of your father." Chilcote laughed suddenly. "How easily we sum up when a matter is im personal! My father may have been a fine figure, but he shouldn't have left me to climb to his pedestal." Loder's eyes questioned. In his new ly awakened interest he had let his pipe go out. "Don't you grasp my meaning Chilcote went on. "My father died and I was elected for East Wark. Y'ou may say that if I had no real Inclination for the position I could have kicked, but I tell you I couldn't. Every local interest, political and commercial, hung up on the candidate being a Chilcote. did what eight men out of ten would have done. I yielded to pressure." "It was a fine opening!" The words escaped Loder. "Most prisons have wide gates!" Chilcote laughed again unpleasantly. "That was six years ago. I had started on the morphia track four years earlier, but up to my father's death I had it under my thumb, or believed I had, and in the realization of my new responsi bilities and the excitement of the political fight I almost put it aside. For several months after I entered parliament I worked. I believe I made one speech that marked me as a comin man." He laughed derisively. "I even married" "Married?" "Y'es a girl of nineteen, the ward of a great politician. It was a brilliant marriage, politically as well as socially, but it didn't work.. I was born without the -capacity for love. First the social life palled on me, then my work grew irksome. There was only one factor to make life endurable morphia. Before six months were out I had fully admitted that." "But your wife?" "Oh, my wife knew nothing knows nothing. It is the political business, the beastly routine of the political life, that' Is wearing me out." lie stopped nervously, then hurried on again. "I tell you it's hard to see the same faces, to sit in the same seat day in, day out, knowing all the time that you must hoI3 yourself in hand, must keep your grip on the reins" "It is always possible to apply for the Chiltern Hundreds." "To retire? Possible to retire?" Chilcote broke into a loud, sarcastic laugh. "You don't know what the local pressure of a place like Wark stands for. Twenty times I have been within an ace of chucking the whole thing. Once last year I wrote privately to Vale, one of our big men there, and hinted that my health was bad. Two hours after he had read my letter he was in my study. Had I been in Greenland the result would have been the same. No; resignation is a meaningless word to a man like me." Loder looked down. "I see," he said slowly; "I see." 'Then you see everything the difficulty, the Isolation of the position. Five years ago three even two years ago I was able to endure it. Now it gets more unbearable with every month. The day Is bound to come when when" he paused, hesitating nervously "when it will be physically Impossible for me to be at my post." Loder remained silent. "Physically impossible," Chilcote repeated excitedly. "Until lately I was able to calculate to count upon myself to some extent but yesterday I received a shock yesterday I discovered that that" again he hesitated painfully "that I have passed the stage when one may calculate." The situation was growing more embarrassing. To hide its awkwardness, Loder moved back to the grate and rebuilt the fire, which had fallen low. Chilcote, still excited by his unusual vehemence, followed him, taking up a position by the mantelpiece. "Well?" he said, looking down. Very slowly Loder rose frcn his task. "Well?" he reiterated. "Have you nothing to say?"' "Nothing, except that your story Is unique and that I suppose' I am flattered by your confidence." His voice was intentionally brusque. Chilcote paid no attention to the voice. Taking a step forward he laid his fingers on the lapel of Loder's coat. "I have passed the stage where I can cunt UDn mjgelt." he eald. "and I

want to count upon somebody else. I want to keep iny place in the world's eyes and yet be free" Loder drew back involuntarily, contempt struggling with bewilderment ia

his expression. Chilcote lifted his head. "By an ex traordinary chance," he said, "you can do for me what no other man in creation could do. It was suggested to me unconsciously by the story of a book a book in which men changed Identities. I saw nothing in it at the time, but this morning, as I lay in bed, sick with yesterday s nasco. It came back to me. It rushed over my mind in an inspiration. It will save me and make you. I'm not insulting you, though you'd like to think so." Without remark Loder freed himself from the other's touch and waited back to his desk. His anger, his pride, and, against his will, his excitement were all aroused. He sat down, leaned his elbow on the desk and took his face between his "You can do for me what no other man in creation could, do." hands. The man behind him undoubtedly talked madness; but after five years of dreary sanity madness had a fascination. Against all reason it stirred and roused him. For one instant his pride and his anger faltered before it, then common sense flowed back again and adjusted the balance. "You propose," he said slowly, "that for a consideration of money I should trade on the likeness between us and become your dummy, when you are otherwise engaged?" Chilcote colored. "You are unpleasantly blunt," he said. "But I have caught your meaning?" "In the rough, yes." Loder nodded curtly. "Then take my advice and go home," he said. "You're unhinged." The other returned his glance, and as their eyes met Loder was reluctantly compelled to admit that, though the face was disturbed, it had no traces of insanity. "I make you a proposal," Chilcote repeated nervously, but with distinctness. "Do you accent?" For an instant Loder was at a loss to find a reply sufficiently final. Chil cote broke in upon the pause. "After all," he urged, "what I ask of you is a ?!mple thing merely to carry through my routine duties for a week or two occasionally when I find my endurance giving away, when a respite becomes essential. The work would be nothing to a man in your state of mind, the pay anything you like to name." In his eagerness he had fol lowed Loder to the desk. "Won't you give me an answer? I told you I am neither mad nor drunk." Loder pushed back the scattered pa pers that lay under his arm. "Only a lunatic would propose such a scheme," he said brusquely and without feeling. "Why?" The other's lips parted for a quick retort; then. In a surprising way the retort seemed to fail him. "Oh, be cause the thing isn't feasible, isn't practicable from any point of view!" Chilcote stepped closer. "Why?" he Insisted. "Because it couldn't work, man couldn't hold for a dozen hours!" Chilcote put out his hand and touch ed his arm. "But why?" he ursced. Why? Give me one unanswerable reason." Loder shook off the hand and laugh ed, but below his laugh lay a sugges tion of the other's excitement. Again the scene stirred him asainst his sounder judgment, though his reply when it came was sound enough. 'As for reastJhs," he said, "there are a hundred, if I had time to name them. Take it, for the sake of supposition, that I were to accept your offer. I should take my place in your house at let us say at dinner time. Your man gets me into your evening clothes. and there at the very start you have the first suspicion set up. He has probably known you for years, known you until every turn of your appear ance, voice and manner is far more familiar to him than it Is to you. There are no eyes like a servant's." 'I have thought of that. My serv ant and my secretary can both be changed. I will do the thing thoroughly." Loder glanced at him in surprise. The madness had more method than he had believed. Then as he still looked a fresh idea struck him, and he laughed. "You have entirely forgotten one thing," he said. "Y'ou can hardly dismiss your wife." "My wife doesn't count." Agsfn Lo'CTcr laughed- "I'm- afraid I scarcely agree. The complications would be slightly slightly" He paused. Chilcote's latent irritability broke out suddenly. "Look here," he said, "this isn't a chaffing matter. It may be moonshine to you, but it's reality to me." Again Loder took bis face between his hands. "Don't ridicule the idea. I'm in dead earnest." Loder said nothing. "Think think it over before you refuse." , . Foe a moment Loder remained mo-

tionless, then he rose suudeniy, push

ing back his chair. Tush, man! You don't know what you say. The fact of your being mar rled bars it. Can't you see that?" Again Chilcote caught his arm. "You misunderstand," he said. "You mistake the position. I tell you my wife and I are nothing to each other. She goes her way; I go mine. We have our own friends, our own rooms. Marriage, actual marriage, doesn't enter tire question. We meet occasionally at meals and at other people's houses; sometimes we go out together for the sake of appearances; beyond that, nothing. If you take up my life nobody in it will trouble you less than Eve I can promise that." He laughed unsteadily. Loder's face remained unmoved. "Even granting thaC he said, "the thing is still impossible." "Why?" "There is the house. The position there would be untenable. A man is known there as he is known in his own club." He drew away from Chilcote's touch. "Very possibly. Very possibly." Chilcote laughed quickly and excitedly. "But what club is without its eccentric member? I am glad you spoke of that. I am glad you raised that point It was a long time ago that I hit upon a reputation for moods as a shield for for other things, and the more useful it has become the more I have let It grow. I tell you you might go down to the house tomorrow and spend the whole day without speaking to, even nodding to, a single man, and as long as you were I to outward appearances no one would raise an eyebrow. In the same way you might vote in my place, ask a question, make a speech if you wanted to" At the word speech Loder turned involuntarily. For a fleeting second the coldness of his manner dropped and his face changed. Chilcote, with his nervous quickness of perception, saw the alteration, and a new look crossed his own face. "Why not?" he said quickly. "Y'ou once had ambitL 3 in that direction. Why not renew the ambitions?" "And drop back from the mountains into the gutter?" Loder smiled and slowly shook his head. "Better to live for one day than to exist for a hundred!" Chilcote's voice trembled with anxiety. For the third time he extended his hand and touched the other. This time Loder did not shake off the detaining hand. lie scarcely seemed to feel its pressure. "Look here." Chilcote's fingers tightened. "A little while ago you talked of influence. Here you can step into a position built by influence. Y'ou might do all you once hoped to do" Loder suddenly lifted his head. "Absurd!" he said. "Absurd! Such a scheme was never carried through." "Precisely why it will succeed. People never suspect until they have a. precedent. Will you consider it? At least consider it. Remember, if there is a risk it is I who am running it. On your own showing you have no position to jeopardize." The other laughed curtly. "Before I go tonight will you promise me to consider it?" "No." "Then you will send me your decision by wire tomorrow. I won't take your answer now." Loder freed his arm abruptly. "Why not?" he asked. Chilcote smiled nervously. "Because I know men and men's temptations. We are all very strong till the quick is touched. Then we all wince. It's morphia with one man, ambitions with another. In each case it's only a matter of sooner or later." He laughed in his satirical, unstrung way and held out his hand. "Y'ou have my address," he said. "Au re voir." Loder pressed the hand and dropped it, "Goodby," he said meaningly. Then he crossed the room quietly and held the door open. "Goodby," he said again as the other passed him. As he crossed the threshold Chilcote paused. "Au revoir," he corrected, with emphasis. Until the last echo of his visitor's steps had died away Loder stood with his hand on the door. Then closing it quietly he turned and looked around the room. For a considerable space he stood there as if weighing the merits of each object. Then very slowly he moved to one of the bookshelves, drew out May's "Parliamentary Practice," and, carrying it to the desk, readjusted the lamp. CHAPTER VI. LL the next day Chilcote moved in a fever of excitement. Hot with hope one moment, cold with fever the next, he rushed with restless energy into every task that presented itself, only to drop It as speedily. Twice during the morning he drove to the entrance of Clifford's inn, but each time his courage failed him and he returned to Grosvenor square to learn that the expected message from Loder had not come. It was a wearing condition of mind, but at worst it ws scarcely more than an exaggeration of what his state had been for months and made but little obvious difference in his bearing or manner. In the afternoon he took his place in the house, but, though it was his first appearance since his failure of two days ago, he drew but small personal notice. When he chose, his manner could repel advances with extreme effect, and of late men had been prone to draw away from him. In one of the lobbies he encountered Fraide surrounded by a group of friends. With his usual furtive haste he would have passed on, but moving away from his party the old man accosted him. He was always courteously particular in his treatment of Chilcote, as the husband of his ward and godchild. "Better, Chilcote," he said, holding out his hand. At the sound of the low, rather formal tones, so characteristic of the old statesman, a hundred memories roseB to Chilcote's mind, a hundred hours distasteful in the living and unbearable in the recollection, and with them the new flash of hope, the new possibility of freedom. In a sudden rush of confidence he turned to his leader. "I believe I've found a remedy for my nerves," he said. "I I believe I'm going to be a new man." He laughed with a touch of excitement.

raiae pressed his fingers Kinaiy, "That is right," he said. "That is right

I called at Grosvenor square this morn ing, but Eve told me your illness of the other day was not serious. She was very busy this morning. She could only spare me a quarter of an hour, She Is indefatigable over the social side of your prospects, Chilcote. Y'ou owe her a large debt. A popular wife means a great deal to a politician." The steady eyes of his companion dis turbed Chilcote. He drew away his hand. "Eve is unique," he said vaguely. Fraide smiled. "That is right." he said again. "Admiration is too largely excluded from modern marriages Ana witn a courteous excuse he re joined his friends. It was dinner time before Chilcote could desert the house, but tne moment departure was possible he hurried to Grosvenor square. As he entered the house the hall was empty. He swore irritably under his breath and pressed the nearest bell. Since his momentary exaltation in Fraide's presence his spirits had steadily fallen until now they hung at the lowest ebb. As he waited In unconcealed impatience for an answer to his summons he caught sight of his man AIlsopp at the head of the stairs. "Come here!" he called, pleased to find some one upon whom to vent his irritation. "Has that wire come for me?" "No, sir. I inquired five minutes back." "Inquire again." "Yes, sir." AIlsopp disappeared. A second later after his disappearance the bell of the hall door whizzed loudi. Chilcote started. All sudden sounds, like all strong lights, affected him. He half moved to the door, then stopped himself with a short exclamation. At the same instant AIlsopp reappeared. Chilcote turned on him excitedly. "What the devil's the meaning of this?" he said. "A battery of servants in the house and nobody to open the hall door!" AIlsopp looked embarrassed. "Crapham is coming directly, sir. He only left the hall to ask Jeffries" Chilcote turned. "Confound Crapham!" he exclaimed. "Go and open the door yourself." AIlsopp hesitated, his dignity struggling with his obedience. As he waited the bell sounded again. "Did you hear me?" Chilcote said. . "Yes, sir." AIlsopp crossed the hall. As the door was opened Chilcote passed his handkerchief from one hand to the other in the tension of hope and fear, then ras the sound of his own name in the shrill tones of a telegraph boy reached his ears he let the handkerchief drop to the ground. AIlsopp took the yellow envelope and carried it to his master. "A telegram, sir," he said. "And the boy wishes to know if there is an answer." Ticking up Chilcote's handkerchief, he turned aside with elaborate dignity. Chilcote's hands were so unsteady that he could scarcely insert his finger under the flap of the envelope. Tearing off a corner, he wrenched the covering apart and smoothed out the flimsy pink'paper. The message was very simple, con sisting of but seven words: Shall expect you at 11 tonight. LODER He read it two or three times, then he looked up. "No answer," he said mechanicallj-, and to his own ears the relief in his voice sounded harsh and unnatural. Exactly as the clocks chimed 11 Chilcote mounted the stairs to Loder's rooms. But this time there was more of haste than of uncertainty in his steps, and, reaching the landing, he crossed it In a couple of strides and knocked feverishly on the door. It opened at once, and Loder stood before him. The occasion was peculiar. For a moment neither spoke; each involun tarily looked at the other with new eyes and under changed conditions. Each had assumed a fresh standpoint in the other's thought. The passing astonishment, the half impersonal curiosity that had previously tinged their relationship, was cast aside, never to be reassumed. In each the other saw himself and something more. As usual, Loder was the first to recover himself. "I was expecting you," he said. "Won't you come in?" The words were almost the same as his word of the night before, but his voice had a different ring, just as his face when he drew back into the room had a different expression a suggestion of decision and energy that had been lacking before. Chilcote caught the difference as he crossed the threshold, and for a bare second a flicker of something like jealousy touched him, but the sensation was fleeting. "I have to thank you," he said, hold ing out his hand. He was too well bred to show by a hint that he under stood the drop in the other's principles. but Loder broke- down the artifice. "Let's be straight with each other, since everybody else has to be deceived," he said, taking the other's hand. "Y'ou have nothing to thank me for, and you know it. It's a touch of the old Adam. Y'ou tempted me, and I fell." He laughed, but below the laugh ran a note of something like triumph the curious triumph of a man who has known the tyranny of strength and suddenly appreciates the freedom of a weakness. "Y'ou fully realize the thing you have proposed?" he added in a different tone. "It's not too late to retract even now." Chilcote opened his lips, paused, then laughed In imitation of his companion, but the laugh sounded forced. "My dear fellow," he said at last, "I never retract." "Never?" "No." "Then the bargain's sealed." Loder walked slowly across the room and, taking up his position by the mantelpiece, looked at his companion. The similarity between them as they faced each other seemed abnormal, defying even the closest scrutiny. And yet. so mysterious Is nature even in her lapses, they were subtly, indefinably different. Chilcote was Loder deprived of one essential; Loder, Chilcote with that essential bestowed. The difference lay ; neither in feature, in coloring nor In j

neignt, out in tnat . bammg, nnic Inner illumination that some call individuality and others soul. Something of this idea, misted and tangled by nervous imagination, crossed Chilcote's mind in that moment of scrutiny, but he shrank from it apprehensively. "I I came to discuss details," he said quickly, crossing the space that divided him from his host. "Shall we? Are you?" He paused uneasily. "I'm entirely in your hands." Loder spoke with abrupt decision. Moving to the table, he indicated a chair and drew another forward for himself. Both men sat down. Chilcote leaned forward, resting elbows on the table. "There will be several things to consider." he began nervously, looking across at the other. "Quite so." Loder glanced back appreciatively. "I thought about those things the better part of last night. To begin with, I must study your handwriting. I guarantee to get it right, but it will take a month." "A month!" "Well, perhaps three weeks. We mustn't make a mess of things." Chilcote shifted his position. "Three weeks!" he repeated. "Couldn't you ?" "No, I couldn't." Loder spoke authoritatively. "I might never want to put pen to paper; but, on the other hand, I might have to sign a check one

day." He laughed. "Have you ever thought of that that I might have to, or want to, sign a check?" "No. I confess that escaped me." "You risk your fortune that you may keep the place it bought for you?" Loder laughed again. "How do you know that I am not a blackguard?" he added. "How do you know that I won't clear out one day and leave you high and dry? What is to prevent John Chilcote from realizing 40,000 or 50,000 and then making himself scarce?" "You won't do that," Chilcote said, with unusual decision. "I told you your weakness last night, and it wasn't money. Money isn't the rock you'll split over." "Then you think I'll split upon some rock? But that's beyond the question. To get to business again. You'll risk my studying your signature?" Chilcote nodded. "Right! Now item two." Loder counted on his fingers. "I must know the names and faces of your men friends as far as I can. Y'our woman friends don't count. While I'm you, you will be adamant." He laughed again pleasantly. "But the men are essential the backbone of the whole business." "I have no men friends. I don't trust the idea of friendship." "Acquaintances, then." Chilcote looked up sharply. "I think we score there," he said. "I have a reputation for absentmindedness that will carry you anywhere. They tell me I can look through the most substan tial man in the house as if he were gos samer, though I may have lunched with him the same day' Loder smiled. "By Jove!" he ex claimed. "Fate must have been con structing this before either of us was born. It dovetails ridiculously. But I must know your colleagues, even if it's only to cut them. You'll have to take me to the house." "Impossible!" "Not at all!" Again the tone of au thority fell to Loder. "I can pull my hat over my eyes and turn up my coat collar. Nobody will notice me, We can choose the fall of the afternoon. I promise you 'twill be all right." "Suppose the likeness should leak out? It's a risk." Loder laughed confidently. "Tush, man! Risk is the salt of life. I must see you at your post, and I must see the men you work with." He rose. walked across the room and took his pipe from the rack. "When I go in for a thing I like to go in over head and ears," he added as he opened his tobacco jar. His pipe filled, he resumed his seat, resting his elbows on the table in unconscious imitation of Chilcote. "Got a match?" he said laconically. holding out his band. In response Chilcote drew his match box from his pocket and struck a light. As their hands touched an exclamation escaped him. "By Jove!" he said, with a fretful mixture of disappointment and surprise. "I hadn't noticed that!" His eyes were fixed In annoyed interest on Loder's extended hand. Loder, following his glance, smiled. "Odd that we should both have overlooked it! It clean escaped my mind. It's rather an ugly scar." He lifted his hand till the light fell more fully on it. Above the second joint of the third finger ran a jagged furrow, the reminder of a wound that had once laid bare the bone. Chilcote leaned forward. "How did you come by it?" he asked. The other shrugged his shoulders "Oh. that's ancient history." "The results are present day enough. It'3 very awkward, very annoying!" Loder, still looking at his hand, didn't seem to hear. "There's only one thing to be done," he said. "Each wear two rings on the third finger of the left hand. Two rings ought to cover it." He made a speculative measurement with the stem of his pipe. Chilcote looked irritable and disturbed. "I detest rings. I never wear rings." Loder raised his eyes calmly. "Neither do I," he said, "but there's no reason for bigotry." But Chilcote's irritability .was started. He pushed back his chair. "I don't like the idea," he said. The other eyed him amusedly. "What a queer beggar you are!" he said. "You waive the danger of a man signing your checks and shy at wearing a piece of jewelry. Ill have a fair share of individuality to study." Chilcote moved restlessly. "Everybody knows I detest jewelry." "Everybody knows you are capricious. It's got to be the rings or noth ing, so far as I make out." CZ-ilcote again altered his position, avoiding the other's eyes. At last, after a struggle with himself, he looked up. "I suppose you're right!" he said. Have It your own way." It was the first small, tangible concession to the stronger will. Loder took his victory quietly. "Good!" he said. "Then it's all straight ,

sailing?" "Except for the matter of the the remuneration." Chilcote hazarded th word uncertainly. There was a faint pause; then Loder laughed brusquely. "My pay?" The other was embarrassed. "I didn't want to put it quite like that." "But that was what you thought. Why are you never honest even with yourself?" Chilcote drew his chair closer to the table. He did not attend to the other's remark, but his fingers strayed to his waistcoat pocket and fumbled there. Loder saw the gesture. "Look here. he said, "you are overtaxing yourself. The affair of the pay isn't pressing. We'll shelve it to another night. You look tired out." Chilcote lifted his eyes with a relieved glance. "Thanks. I do feel a bit fagged. If I may, I'll have that whisky that I refused .ast night." "Why, certainly." Loder rase at one and crossed to a cupboard in the walL In silence he brought out whisky, glasses, and a siphon of soda water. "Say when!" he said, lifting the whisky. "Now. And I'll have plain water instead of soda, if It's all the s.ime." "Oh, quite." Loder recrossed th room. Instantly his back was turned.

To the carter of John Chilcote ln Chilcote drew a couple of tabloids from his pocket and dropped them into his glass. As the other came slowly back ? he laughed nervously. . "Thanks. See to your own drink now. I can manage this." He took the jug unceremoniously, and, carefully, guarding his glass from the light, poured ln the water with excited haste. "What shall we drink to?" he said. Loder methodically mixed his own dtink and lifted the glass. "Oh, to tne career of John Chilcote!" he answered. For an Instant the other hesitated. There was something prophetic. In the sound of the toast. But he shook the feeling off and held up his glass. "To the career of John Cbilcote!" ha said with another unsteady laugh. (To Be Continued.) IPeminisyllvaiiBk LINESEXCURSIONS TO WEST NORTHWEST SOUTH SOUTH) CALIFORNIA A OREGON MONTANA. WASHINGTON IDAHO MIXIC0. neV library :afe car fea ture. St. Iuis Special" leaving bond MTZ: 10 every night, and the Jfittsburg Special," leava. m., daily. Dining Service a la carte. Large smoking parlor. . Free library. Writing facilities. Jl Interested, ask C. W. ELMER, Ticket Aft. I1ICHMOSD, I5D. THE CHICAGO CI II CI (ill AH & LOUISVILLE R. R. (THE NEW WAY) Effective May 20th, 190. EAf BOUNCb

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Dally. fDat' except Sunday. Bauds only. a kqd to trrtffltn a ally zee' Bandar. Toe ijjv am. v aln from Richmond makes lrcct eoxuectlAn at -Orlfflth with arud rmnk forCblccAo, arriving Chicago 7 p. ml All VMt-boonf train make direct eonty oss at Oxtail Orove with O- if it. tar Oxtocd. HanaliiAj Liberty .Connersvllleand For farther wormstioa rHanllnr rmu es4 traLn connections, aaU C A. BLAIR. Home Pfcsae 43. Pass, and Ticket AC