Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 35, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 December 1902 — The Iron-Worker’s Daughter [ARTICLE]

The Iron-Worker’s Daughter

BY HOWARD FORRESTER.

CHAPTER XV.—(Continued.) A clerk entered the room, and attended to some details Mr. Mead impressed on trim In a low tone. While he was present the mill owner continued: “What is it? What has he been doing, er what do you suspect he has been doing 7 ’ “You read a story of a murder the other day?” “A murder? Oh, you mean the woman tolled on —— street, over file river?” “Yes.” Mr. Mead looked inquiringly at Gripp; *y chance the clerk glanced at him, too. Then the detective also looked at Gripp as he replied to Mr. Mead. “We are on the murderer's track; we think it is impossible for him to escape.” “I hope you will catch him! 'I hope may!” exclaimed Mr. Mead, fervent“That is why I inquired about Atherton. Good day, sir.” The detective retired. As he opened the door, he observed it was ajar. He also observed a young lady standing near a window in the adjoining room. Her face was turned from him, but her cheek was deadly pale. The detective, a trained observer, made a mental note of the fact. Had she heard what passed in the inner room? And if She did, how or in what way did the murder concern her? “I very much regret the abiurd mistake that will compel me to call on you again.” said Gripp, when they were alone. Plainly, his face indicated disappointment, chagrin. The substitution of one jot of drawings for another—how could he explain that? He would only make matters worse, he: argued, so he held his peace, trusting to time and a favorable reception of his very liberal proposition to Mr. Mead to pave the way for an explanation of the change made in the drawings, when they could laugh over it. He bowed himself out, and hastened •way so quickly he did not notice the figure at the window. When he disappe tr•d. one of the clerks addressed the waiting figure at the window. “Mr. Mead is disengaged now, miss.” The lady entered Mr. Mead’s private room quickly. “You are Mr. Mead?” “Be seated. Yes, and lam sorry I kept you waiting.” “You will excuse my want of ceremony, but it is a matter that cannot wait.” “Proceed.” “My name is Atherton. lam a daughter of Daniel Atherton.”

Mr. Mead was secretly amazed, but he •nly bowed, and she continued: “I have called to see you concerning * matter Mr. Arthur Mayberry is, or was, interested in.” Mr. Mead bowed again. His manner reassured her. She hastened on with her Story, as though time was precious, or •he feared to occupy Mr. Mead’s time. “Mr. Mayberry called upon you concerning business which he is unable tn pursue, because, unfortunately, as I have reason to believe, my father was in some manner induced to change his mind. At least, matters turned out in a way that Mr. Mayberry could not do what he thought he could, and I have called — not with or my father’s knowledge, Mr—but to let you know the truth, as you will doubtless know it from Mr. Mayberry himself. My reason for intruding in this matter is solely because it is known to me that Mr. Mayberry is in no way to be blamed. The fault, if any, lies with my father, and I am trying to make •mends—the only amends that lies in my power.” “I understand you. Give yourself no concern whatever,” said Mr. Mead, smilingly, as he looked at the anxious face turned toward him. She was going, when he detained her. “This idea of your father’s—has he disposed of it to any person, or has he tak0n steps that will test the correctness of his views?” “I do not know. I think he has not succeeded in interesting more than two Crsons— Mr. Mayberry, who, It seems, s given the matter up, and one other.” “That is all. You did perfectly right in calling. It has, already, disabused me of one notion.” He did not say what the notion was. Irene thought he referred to Mayberry’s failure to keep his appointment, and a faint blush suffused her cheek. But Mr. Mead was not thinking of Mayberry; he was thinking of Gripp, and wondering how he made such a mistake in bringing him a lot of drawings that had as little bearing upon the new process as the shadow of Cheops. And be instantly surmised that the drawings Mr. Gripp had looked at with anger and illconcealed disgust were this young lady’s. She bowed again and withdrew. Mr. Mead paced the floor with a strange smile hovering on his lips. “So, this is Atherton’* daughter. A love affair. Who would have thought her • puddler's daughter? As pretty a girl as one will see in a week. So, this is a case where Gripp has displayed his usual business judgment. Well, it’s no affair ♦f mine—but I’ll be hanged if I wouldn’t Mke to see Mayberry win instead of Gripp. This is a queer world—a queer world.”

CHAPTER XVI.

When Dan Atherton returned home on the evening of the day Gripp called, his Manner was more cheerful than it had keen for a week. “Yon had a caller to-day?" “You mean Mr. Gripp?” “Yes. There’s worse fellows than Gripp, I dare say. You didn’t give him the papers.” "No. Not until you sent him with a note. You know I would not be likely to give any person anything of value on the strength of a verbal order. But if you remember, you once Impressed upon me the necessity of demanding a note from you before giving books or papers.** “Yes, yes. Well, he got them, anyway, that’s the main thing now. And I dare say we'll see daylight soon. You’ll not have to turn many more dresses, or make your own bonnets much longer, I hope.” . At the table Atherton jested, and rented happenings and sayings that attracted his attention in the mill. He sat laager than usual; his old spirits returned.

He asked his daughter what there was to be seen in the stores. When he rose, he looked at one. Or two books treating mechanical matters. He began to hum an air of a tune, then suddenly turned tp his daughter, who was washing the dishes. “I say, Irene! Are you sure you gave Mr. Gripp the right roll? These papers are all mixed up together. I can’t tell them apart” “I don’t'know. I won’t be sure. You can satisfy yourself by opening them.” He opened the first large roll near him. An exclamation brought Irene to the door. Her father looked at her with O'grave face. “Why, here are the drawings Gripp came for." - “I can’t see how it happened,” said Irene, coming forward. “I was so anxious to get rid of him, after refusing him the first time, that I gave him the roll I thought he-wanted." “The next thing I want to know, what did you give him?" Irene stood on a chair, looked at the remaining rolls, then descended, put a finger on her lips, and said: “Papa, I gave Mr. Gripp my drawings in mistake.” Dan Atherton made a wry face. The mistake in the drawings evidently made him very uneasy. Suddenly his eye fell on the note addressed to him. He strode to the mantel, saying: “When did this come?” “I thought you saw it wh€n you came in; it came half an hour before Mr. Gripp called the second time.” Atherton opened the note quickly, cast his eye over it, then in an altered tone asked: “Who left this here?’ Irene, quick to note the change in his voice and manner, replied: “A boy.” “A boy. Do you know him? Would you know him if you saw him again? What was he like?’ “Yes, I think —I am sure—l could tell him. I never saw him before. Why, he was about twelve or fourteen.” “Irene!” His manner alarmed her; his eyes shone with a fierceness that alarmed her. “You must keep On the lookout for him—the boy, I mean —and if you see him, as you value your life, do not let him get out of your sight until you learn who he is, where he lives —all that is necessary to be able to put my hand on him. You hear, Irene?” “Yes, I understand, father.” Then Atherton hastily crumpled the note up, thrust it into his pocket, grasped his hat, and without saying a word more left the house. When Atherton was a little distance from home he paused, stood motionless, and reflected. Opening the note he had thrkst into his pocket, he reperused it slowly. It was very mysterious. It read thus: “There is no telling what a moment may bring Forth Best cut your stick, and less Chance of Trubble. I’d-tell you this only for strange eyes watching to get a grip eu some one. “A FRIEND IN NEED.”

Atherton read this over twice carefully, and walked on, first holding the mysterious note up carefully and placing it in his pocket. There was no ' date. The signature was not reassuring’ It could only mean one thing. It referred to the death of Bob Peters. And yet no name was mentioned. It was vague, but all the more calculated to alarm a man ofnveak mind; a timid man would be driven into a panic by it, unless he felt that he could easily meet and dispose of any charge brought against him. “It means more than Gripp knows of all that passed—and maybe some one who does not know, but suspects wliat is not true.” Atherton walked slowly along, pondering the meaning of the warning note. “And why may it not be somebody trying to frighten me? Somebody who wants to get me out of the way?” This view was as reasonable as any other. His strong common sense told him he ought not to be guided in any important matter by any anonymous note. In short, he took the correct view; he said to himself he would stay where he was. He was as innocent, as sinless, as any man who could confront him, and he would not be driven away from fne city. And yet there was enough to make him feel uncomfortable, nervous, apprehensive. A man who would stop to write him such a note was cowardly enough to do anything. So be had two enemies where he thought he hard but one. That one was Gripp. Gripp, whom he was clinging to; Gripp, whom he felt like choking; Gripp, who hoped to be related to him in a closer manner than commercial cords could bring about. Atherton asked himself then and there: Will I fight for freedom —for myself, for my daughter? Long he debated with himself. When be had turned to move on, he made this resolve: “I will fight. I will be a* wise as the serpent and as gentle as me dove —until my time comes. Then, Mr. Gripp, look out for yourself—look out, Mr. Gripp!” He thrust a hand out in imagination as he walked on —it was now dusk. “Hello, there! What do you meau, hitting a fellow that way? Why, bless me if ’tain’t Dan Atherton.” “You're just the man I want to talk to. Gome with me, Jack Jones. I have something very serious to say to you.” “Dan, you know I’d go through fire and water for you." “I believe it. Come.” Then the two puddlers walked on side by side.

CHAPTER XVII. One of the best known localities in Pittsburg, ss in' all other large cities, and especially in great manufacturing centers, io the place set apart for the detention of such as infract the law. The Pittsburg Tombs has but one outlet, and that is on a narrow street, termed Diamond, formerly an alley. Below the entrance to the Tombs, on either side of the street, are a number of restaurants. One of these is mach favored by workers in the mills and glass factories. Especially do the irqpworkers congregate here. Into this establishment Atherton ushered Jack Jones. A counter on the left extended to a back room. A group of men wore Sitting

at a table near the door, noisily discussing some proposed changes in wages or method of manufacture. Another group were discussing local politics. . At the extreme end of the counter two Yuen were conversing in low tones. One was well dressed, with the manner of a sharp, keen business man. Something in this man’s manner and appearance arrested Atherton’s attention. But he hurried with his friend into the back room, giving a waiter a sign. The Man followed him immediately. "We Want to be alone about five minutes.” “I’ll see you ain’t disturbed for that time,” said the attendant Atherton thrust a hand into his pocket, brought forth the warning note, laid it down before his companion, and looked at him in silence. Jack Jones stared. “Jack!” Atherton lowered his voice. “I brought you over here to tell you what no other soul will ever hear from me. I want one man to know the truth. Maybe it will be best—-it may serve me or mine.”

Atherton looked around him, then bending forward, asked his companion: “Did you ever hear talk of how Peters died?” “Talk! O, there was plenty said you had an old grudge, and a good reason to wallop him, but death stepped in and cheated you of your chance. They do say, speak no ill of the dead, but I never could abide Peters. He was too upsettin’—too much for the boss, and too bossy for any of us. But he is dead, and let him rest.” “Amen to that. You never heard anything like a hint of foul play?’ “Why, I’d knock a man down if he hinted it afore me.” “You must know the beginning and end. I was quarreling with him, you know I had good cause. I told him I’d let no man ride rough-shod over me. And he goaded me to desperation. Well, I had just made up my mind to whip him, or he’cf whip me.” “I predicted it often, Dan.” “And I was just going to him—with this first." Atherton held out his clenched hand. “He had picked up a weapon, when he fell in a heap—like a man struck by lightning.” Jones looked at his companion, openmouthed. “You didn’t tell that at the inquest.” “No. Mr. Meeker did not like to raise any more talk than was necessary.- The moment the inquest was over I felt uneasy. It was tiie first thing I ever concealed, Jack.”

“It’s like you. Jfobody never knew you to keep anything back.” “Then Gripp came to me and talked as if I owed everything to him for not being ire. jail.” “And you hit him?” • “No. You see —I began to think of Irene. I bore much on her account. When Gripp found I was alarmed about the way Peters died, and the whole case was not explained, he began to build on controlling me. You know my patent!” ' “Aye.” “It brought me foolish letters, and one —just one business customer —young Mayberry. We bargained—or, 1 signed an agreement with him. He was to help get others interested, and carry out my plans. When we talked the process over —not very far from where we are sitting —Gripp, who was in a stall in a restaurant next us, overheard every word I said.” “And if he did—he dare not come "into your way. You’d your idea patented?” “Not everything. He heard enough to cheat me. Mayberry and I went to Mead Bros. & Co. —Slayberry was going to get Mr. Mead into the scheme with us —and there was-kuJnp ahead of ns. We heard him talk about his i .i,y, 4 _y r »cesr to Mr. Mead. Mayberry and I separated, „. afterward Gripp met me —I think he was on the lookout —and he tried to induce me to throw Mayberry over and take him in.”

“Then did you fly at him?” “I did not. I thought of the scandal —of Irene. I ought to have quarreled with him and have done with it.” “Then what?” Atherton’s eye was more resolute, his tone more impressive. “I’m going to prove to you how easily it is to be mistaken. I’m going to show you how I let the thoughts of Irene and scandal cow me. I said I’d think over it. I should have struck the villain, for he is one. When Mayberry called on me for a talk, I was offish—he got offish, too, and as he is a high-minded, spirited young fellow, he gave me back the agreement I signed.” "Well,” said Jack Jdhes, sitting back from the table, “he was a fool. He’d a right to hold on to the paper, and not let his high-mindedness come between him and his plain rights. I never believed it of you Dan —never.” “I know Gripp would like to marry my daughter. He has means. He is worth a good deal of money—as he was having everything his own way with my process.” “I’m sorry for you, Dan; I’m main sorry, Dan.” “1 believe it. But I am sorrier for myself. He had me call to see him at an out-of-the-way place”—here Dan shuddered —“a place where a murder was committed that very night; so you may know the sort of a gang I had to encounter going there.” _ “The murder was ” “The murder of that woman in ?Jleghsny. I agreed to send him my drawing*, so he could show them to Mr. Mead ” “■Then he’a got you foul, Dan. If he’s got the drawings, you must get them •■Stop. He didn’t get them. When I sept him to my house for them. Irene would not give them oh a verbal order. Sc- I wrote one at the mill, and he went bark for the drawings. When I got home from work thia evening, I foupd Irene g».ve him the wrong drawings.” “Good! Good! Good for Irene!”

”1 don’t know, but I think she maybe mede a mistake. Anyhow, Gripp has a lot of papers with Irene's birds, vases sitd flowers on them.” "Now I’d like to burst, "Dan. It’s a g-jod one—a good one on Gripp.” "Then, the next thing, I found this note. A boy brought it to the house. It alarmed me, I confess, but. Jack, I’m rot alarmed now. I’m my own man ggain. Scandal or no scandal, I’m going to fight Gripp. I want some one to talk to—and now you know the whole business." As the friends emerged from the little back room, the man Atherton had observed at the end of the counter approached him and touched him lightly on

the arm. Atherton turned on Mm quick* ly. “Who are yon, sir? What do yon .want?* “I want you,” said the man, with an insolent look, speaking in a tone that wsa heard throughout the room. “I don’t know you, sir,” said Atherton angrily, “and If you dare to speak to me again, I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll remember as long as you live.” He assumed a menacing attitude at once. The other signed to two men near, who had come in while Atherton was in the back room. “Seixe him!” “What do you want Atherton for?’ demanded Jones hotly of the three, looking at them in turn in a manner that meant business. Two whipped out revolvers instantly. The one who had spoken flashed a badge on the spectators of this scene. (To be continued.)