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AUT11 or "THE DRAWN
U11UaMhUO?D0 bY M~
COPR9/GHT Bv LO//1 1oYZw yA4iyg
David Amber, starting for a duck-shoot- t
Ing visit with hi. friend, Quain,. comes up
en a young lady equestrian who has been
lmoun~ted by her horse becoming fright- e
ened at the sudden appearanoe in the road
of a burly Hindu. He dOclares he is
Behari Lal Chatterii "the appointed f
mouthpiece of the Doll,' addresses Amber
as a man of high rank and pressin a
yatorious little bronze box. "The To.
ken," Into his hand disappears in the
wood. The girl cals Amber by name.
He in turn addresses her as Miss Sophie i
Farroll, daughter of Col. Farrell of the
British diplomatic service in India and
Vislting the Qualna. Soveral nights later 0
the Quain home is burglarized and the
ronz* b6x stolen. Amber and Quain go
nunting on an island and become lost and M
Amber is left marooned. He wanders
about, finally reaches a cabin and rec
ognizes an its occupant an old friend d
named Rutton, whom he last met in Eng- a
land, and who appoars to be in hiding.
When Miss Farrell is mentioned Rutton is C
strangely agitated. Chatterji appears (
and summons Rutton to a meeting of a
mys.terious body. Rutton seizes a revol- N1
wer and dashes after ChatterJil.
CHAPTER V. (Continued).
Suddenly Rutton started and wheel
ed round, every trace of excitement
smoothed away. Meeting Amber's
gaze he nodded as if casually, and
said, "Oh, Amber," quietly, with an
effect of faint surprise. Then he
dropped heavily into a chair by the
"Well," he said slowly, "that Is
Amber, without speaking, went to
his side and touched his shoulder with
that pitifully inadequate gesture of
sympathy which men so frequently e
"I killed him," said Rutton dully. c
"Yes," replied Amber. He was not a
surprised; he had apprehended the r
tragedy from the moment that Rutton
had fled him. t
After a bit Rutton turned to the r
table and drew an automatic pistol d
from his pocket, opening the maga- s
zine. Five cartridges remained in n
the clip, showing that two had been
exploded. "I was not sure," he said
thoughtfully, "how many times I had p
fired." His curiosity satisfied, he re- t
loaded the weapon and returned it to 11
his pocket. "He died like a dog," he t
said, "whimpering and blaspheming
in the face of eternity . . . out a
there in the cold and the night. . . . c
It was sickening-the sound of the r
bullets tearing through his flesh. .."
"Didn't he resist?" Amber asked in- t
to ' 117y. ti
He t.. ue let him pop away b
with his revolver unfli'it was empty.
Then . . ." (
"What made you wait?" t
"I didn't care; it didn't matter. One 1
of us had to die tonight; he shouldt
have known that when I refused to t
accompany him back to . . . I
was hungry for his bullet more than t
for his life; I gave him every chance. 1
But it had to be an it was. That was r
With a wrench Amber pulled him- t
self together. "Rutton," he demanded t
suddenly, without premeditation,
"what are you/ going to do?"
"Do?" Hutton looked up, his eyes a
perplexed. "Why, what is there to do? t
aet away as best I can, I pr-esume-- r
seek another hole to hide in."c
"But how about the law?"
"The law? Why need it ever be
known-what has happened tonight? I
I can count on your silence- I have
no need to ask. Doggott would die
rather than betray me. Ho and I can
dispose of-it, No one comes here
at this time of the year save hunting
parties; and their eyes are not upon
the ground. You will go your way in I
the morning. We'll clear out im-i
"You'd better take no chances." 1
Suddenly Rutton smote the table
with his fist. "Dly Indur!" he swore
strangely, his voice quaver-ing with
joy; "I had not thought of that!" He
jumped up and began to move excited- i
iy to and fro. "I am free! None but
y'ou and I know of the passing of the<
Token andl the delivery of the me- I
sage-none can possibly know fori
days, perhaps weeks, For so much<
time at least I am in no danger of--"
He shut his moulth like a trap on
words that might have enlightened
"L~et me see: there are still waste
places in the world where a man
may lose himself, There's Canada
the Hudson bay region, Labrador.
A discreet knock sounded on the
door in the partition, and it was open
ed gently. Doggott appeared on the1
threshold, pale and careworn. Rut-1
ton paused, facing him.
"Any orders, sir?"
"Yes; begin packing up. We leave
"Very good, sir."
Rutton replenished the fire and
stood with his back to it, smiling al
most happily. All evidence of remorse
had disappeared "Freei" he cried soft
ly. "And by the simplest of solutions.
Strange that I should never have
thought before tonight of-"' lHe
glanced carelessly toward the win
dow; and it was as if his lips had
been wiped clean of speech.
Amber turned, thrilling, his flesh
creeping with the horror that he had
divined in Rutton's transfixed gaze.
Outside the glass, that was lightly
silvered with frost, something moved
he spectral shadow of a turbaned
Load-moved and was stationary for
he space of 20 heartbeats. Beneath
he turban Amber seemed to see two
yes, wide starig and terribly alight.
"God!" cried Rutton thickly, jerking
arth his pistol.
The shadow vanished.
With a single thought Arnber
prang upon Rutton, snatched the
reapon from his nerveless fingers,
nd, leaping to the door, let himself
The snow had ceased; only the
rind raved with untempered force.
Cautiously, and, to be frank, a bit
Ismayed, Amber made a reconnais
ance, circling the building, but dis
overed nothing to reward his pains.
inly, before the window, through
rhich he had seen the peering tur
aned head, he found the impressions
f two feet, rather deep and definite,
jes pointing toward the house, as
lough 'some one had lingered there,
>oking in. The sight of them reas
ured him ridiculously.
"At least," he reflected, "disembod
3d spirits leave no footprints!"
He found Rutton precisely as he
ad left him, his very attitude an un
"No," Amber told him, "he'd made
quick getaway. The marks of his
et were plain enough, outside the
iindow, but he was gone, and . .
somehow I wasn't overkeen to fol
)w hini up."
"Right," said the older man deject
dly. "I might have known Chatterji
nild not have come alone. So my
rime was futile." le spoke without
pirit, as if completely fagged, and
loved slowly to the door.
"David, a little while ago I promised
a ask your aid if ever the time
hould come when I might be free to
o so; I said, 'That hour will never
trike.' Yet already it is here; I
ced you. Will you help me?"
"You know that."
"I know. . . . One moment's
atience, David." Rutton glanced at
he clock. "Time for my medicine,"
e said; "that heart trouble I men
loned. . . .
He drew from a waistcoat pocket a
mall silver tube, or phial, and un
orking this, measured out a certain
umb~r of drops into a silver spoon.
,s he swallowed the dose the phial
lipped from his fingers and rang
pon the hearthstone, spilling its con
ants in the ashes. A pungent and
eady odor flavored the air.
"No matter," said Rutton indiffer
ntly. "I shan't need it again for some
1110." He picked up and restored the
hial to his pocket. "Now let me
hink a bit." He took a quick turn up
he room and down again.
'.'A mad (lance," he observed
boughitfully: "this thing we call life.
V'e meet and whirl asunder-motes in
sunbeam. Tonight Destiny chose to
hiq~w us together for a little space;
omorrow we shall bo irrevocably part.
d, for all time."
"Don't say that, Rutton."
"It is so written, David." The man's
mile was strangely placid. "After
his night, we'll never meet. In the
norning Doggott will ferry you
"Shan't we go together?"
"No," said Rutton serenely; "I must
eave before you."
"Without Doggott; I wish him to
;o with you."
"On the errand I am going to ask<
'ou to do for me. You are free to
eave this country for several
"Quito. I corrected the final gal
eys of my 'Analysis of Sanskrit Liter-1
Lture' just before I came down. Now
'ye nothing on my mind-or hands. 1
"Walt." Rutton went a secondl time
o the loather trunk, lifted the lid,
bud came back with two small par'
els. The one, which appeared to con
atin documents of somel sort, he cast
egligently on the fire, with the air<
tf one who destroys that which is no
onger of value to him. It caught Im
nediately and began to flame andI
moke and smoulder. The other wasi
everal inches square and fiat, wrap-1
ed in plain paper, without a super-I
cription, and sealed with several
leavy blobs of red wax.
Rutton drew a chair close to Amber1
rind sat down, breaking the seals
"You shall go on a long journey,
)avid," he said slowly-"a long jour
tey, to a far land, where you shall
>rave perils that I may not warn you
rgainst. It will put your friendship to
The elder man ripped the cover
'rem the packet, exposing the back
yf what seemed to be a photograph.
Feolding this to the lght, its face in
visible to Amber, he studIed it for
;everal minutes, in silence, a tender
light kindling in his eyes to soften the
ilmost ascetic austerity of his expr'es-1
sion. "In the end, if you live, you
shall win'- rich reward," he said at
length. lie placed the photograph
race down upon the table.
"The love of a woman worthy of
'But-!" In consternation Amber
rose, almost knocking ever his chair.
"Bu--.reat Scott. man!"
"Bear with me, David, for yet a lit
1o while," Rutton begged. "Sit down."
"All right, but-!" Amber resumed
As .seat, staring.
"You and Doggott are to seek. her
)Ut, wherever she may be, and rescue
ier from what may be worse than
leath. And it shall come to pass that
'qu shall love one another and marry
md live happily ever after-just as
hough you were a prince and she an
mchanted princess In a fairy tale, Da
"I must say you seem pretty damn
ure about It!"
"It must be so, David; it shall be
oi I am an old man-older than you
hink, perhaps-and with age 'there
ometimes comes something strange
y akin to the gift of second-sight. So
know it will be so, though you think
ae a madman."
"I don't, indeed, but you
Vell! I give it up." Amber laughed
ineasily. "Go on. Where's this maid
in in distress?"
"In India-I'm not sure just where.
rou'll find 4er, however."
"Then you are to bring her home
vith you, without delay."
"You must win her first; then she
rill come gladly."
"Dut I've just told you I loved an
'ther woman, Rutton, and besides-"
"You mean the Miss Farrell you
"That will be no obstacle."
"What! How in thunder d'you
mow it won't?" Amber expostulated.
L faint suspicion of the truth quick
ined his wits. "Who is this woman
lou want me to marry?"
"My only child, David."
"Then why won't my-my love for
sophia Farrell interfere?"
"Because," said Rutton slowly, "my
laughter and Sophia Farrell are the
anie. . . . No; listen to me; I'm
iot raving. Hero is my proof-her
atest photograph." He put it into
Dazed, the younger man stared
Studied It' for Sever
>dankly at the likeoness of the woman
me loved: it was unquestionably she.
He gasped, trembling, astounded.
'Sophia . . .!" he said thickly, col
>ring hotly. He was conscious of a
ightening of his throat muscles, ma
Cing speech a matter of diflculty. "But
-but-" ho stammered.
"Hler mother," said Rutton softly,
ooking away, "was a Russian noble
voman. Sophia is Farrell's daughtor
y adoption only. Farrell was ,once
ny closest friend. WVhen my wife
lied . . ." Hie covered his eyes
,vith his hand and remained silent for a
'ow seconds. "When Sophia was left
n~otherless, an infant in arms, Farrell
>ffered~ to adopt her. Because I be
sameo, ab~out that time, aware of this
iorror that has p)oisoned my life--this
:hing of which you have seen some
~hing tonight-I accepted on conditeon
hat the tr-uth ho never revealedl to
mer. It cost me the friendship of Far
'ell; ho was then but lately married
ind--and I thmought it dangerous to be
seen with hinm too much. I loft Eng
andl, having settled upon my daughter
:he best part of my fortune, retaining
'mly enough for my needs. From that
lay I never saw her or heard from
LParrell. Yet I know I could trust
riim. Last summer, when my daugh
ter was presented at court, I was itt
Uondon; I discovered the name of her
photographer and bribed him to nell
me this." He indicated the photo
"And she doesn't know!"
"She must never know." Ruttors
Leaned forward and caught Amber's
band in a compelling grasp. "Re
cnember' that. Whatever you do, my
aame must never pass your lips-withi
referenee to herself, at least. No one
mst even suspect that you know me
-Farrell least of all."
"Sophia knows that now," said Am.
bor. "QuaIn and I spoke of you one(
night, but the name mado no impres
mion on her. I'm sure of that."
"That is good; Farrell has beer
true. Now . . you will go t(
"K will go." Amber promised.
"You will be kind to her, and true,
David? You'll love her faithfully and
make her love you?"
"I'll do my best," said the young
"It must be so-she must be taught
to love you. It is esseitial, impera
tive, that she marry you and leave In
dia with you without a day's delay."
Amber sat back in his chair, breath
ing quickly, his mouth tense. "I'll do
my best. But, Rutton, why? Won
you tell me? Shouldn't I know-,
who am to be her husband, her protec
"Not from me. I am bound by an
oath, David. Some day It may be that
you will know. Perhaps not. You
may guess what you will-you have
much to go on. But from me, noth
ing. Now, let us settle the details.
I've very little time." He glanced
again at the shoddy tin clock, with a
slight but noticeable shiver.
"How's that? It's hours till morn
"I shall never see the dawn, David,"
said Rutton quietly.
"I have but ten minutes more of
life. . . . If you must know-in a
word: poison. . . . That I be
saved a blacker sin, David!"
"You mean that medicine-the sil
ver phial?" Amber stammered, sick
"Yes. Don't be alarmed; it's slow
but sure and painless, dear boy. It
works infallibly within half an hour.
There'll be no agony-merely the
drawing of the curtain. Best of all, it
leaves no traces; a diagnostician
would call it heart-failure. . .
And thus I escape that." He nodded
cdolly toward the door.
"But this must not be, Rutton!"
Amber rose suddenly, pushing back
his chair. "Something must be done.
"Not so loud, please-you might
alarm him. After it's all over, call
him. But now-it's useless; the thing
is done; there's no known antidoto.
Be kind to ma, David, in this hour of
mine extremity. There's much still to
be said between us . . . and in
at Minutes, In Silence.
seven minutes more ...
Rutton retained his clutch upon Am
ber's hand; and his eyes, their luster
dimmed, held Amber's, pitiful, pas
sionate, inexorable in their entreat~y.
Amber sat down, his soul shaken with
the pity of it.
"Ah-h!I" sighed Hutton. Relieved,
the tension relaxed; he released Am
ber's hand; his body sank a little in
the chair. Becoming conscious of this,
ho pulled himself together....
"Enter India by way of Calcutta," he
said Ain a dull and heavy voice.
"There, In the Machua bazar, you wvill
find a goldsmith and money lender
called Dhola flakish. Go to him se
cretly, show him the r.ing-thme Token.
ie wvill understand and do all in his
power to aid you, should there bo any
trouble aboitt your' leaving with So
phia. To no one else in India are you
to mention my name. Deny me, If
taxed with knowIng me. Do you un
~Never mind--but remember these
two things: you do not know me and
you must under no circumsmtancos have
anything to do with the police. They
could do nothing to help you; on the
other hand, to be seen with them, to
have it known that you communicate
with them, would be the equivalent of
a seal upon your death warrant. You
remember the money lender's name?"
"Dhola Dlakash of the Machu ba
"Trust him-and trust Doggott..
. . Four minutes more!"
"Rutton!" cried Amber in a broken
voice. Cold sweat broke out upon his
The man smiled fearlessly. "Believe
me, this is the boetter way-the only
way. . . . Sonm (lay you may
meet a little chap nmed labertouche
-a queer fish I once know in Cal
cutta. 'But I dar'esay ho's (lead by
new. But if you should meet him, toll
him that you've secen his D-Formnula
workc flawlessly In one instance at
leanst. You see. ho dabbled in chem
istry and entomology and a lot of un
common pur.uit.-a soicitor b-. .r
fession, he peter seeme; to have any
practise to speak of-and he invented
this stuff and named it the B-Form
ula." Rutton tapped the silver phial
in his waistcoat pocket, smiling faint
ly. "He was a good little man. . . .
Two minutes. Strange how little one
cares, when it's inevitable...."
He oeased to speak and closed his
eyes. A great stillness made itself
felt within the room. In the other,
Doggott was silent-probably asleep.
It wa Closo upon two in the morn
ing. .' , I
"Amber," said Jutton suddenly and
very clearly, "you') find a will in my
dispatch box. Dogg (;, 11 to have all
I possess. The emerald .,ring-the
Token--I give to you."
"Yes, I---" *,
"Your hand. . . . Mine is cold Y
No? I fancied it was," said the man
drowsily. And later: "Sophia. You
will be kind to her, David?"
"On my faith!"
Rutton's fingers tightened cruelly
upon his, then relaxed suddenly. lie
began to nod, his .chin drooping to
ward his breast.
"The Gateway . . . the Bell
The words were no more than whis
pers dying on lips that stilled as they
For a long time Amber sat unmov
ing, his fingers imprisoned in that
quiet, cooling grasp, his thoughts
astray in a black mist of mourning
Out of doors something made a cir
cuit of the cabin, like a beast of the
night, steal'.hy footsteps muffled by
the snow: pad-pad-pad . . .
In the emerald ring on Amber's
finger the deathless fire leaped and
Presently Amber roso and quietly
exchanged dressing gown and slippers
for his own shooting Jacket and boots
-which by now were dry, thanks to
Doggott's thoughfulness in placing
them near tho fire.
The shabby tin clock had droned
through 30 minutes since Rutton had
spoken his last word. In that intor
val, sitting face to face, and for a lit
tle time hand in hand, with the man
to whomi he had pledged. his honor,
Amber had thought deeply, carefully
weighing wnys and means; nor did be
move until he believed his plans ma
ture and definito.
Iut before he could take one step
toward redeeming his word to Rut
ton, he had many cares to dispose of.
In the hut, Rutton lay dead of poison;
somewhere among the dunes the babu
lay in his blood, shot to death-foully
murdered, the world would say.
Should these things become known, he
would be detained indefinitely in No
komis as a witness--if, indeed, he es.
caped a graver charge.
ft was, then, with a mind burdened
with black anxiety that he went to
"Mr. Rutton is dead, Doggott," he
managed to say with some difficulty.
Doggott exclaimed beneath his
breath. "Dead!" he cried in a tone of
daze. In two strides he had left Ain
ber and was kneeling by Rutton's
side. The most cursory examination,
however, sufficed to resolve lisa every
"Dead!" whispered the servant. He
rose and stood swaying, his lips
a-tremble, his eyes blinking through a
mist, bis head bowed. "'10 always
was uncommon' good to me, Mr. Am
bor," he said brokenly. "It's a bit
'ard, comin' this w'y. 'Ow--'ow did
it-" Heb broke down completely for
When he had himself in more con
trol Amber told him as briefly as pos
sible of the head at the window and
of its sequel-Rlutton's despairing sui
Doggott listened in silence, nodding
his comprehension. "I've always look
ed for it, sir," lhe commented. "'IC'd
warned me never to touch that silver
tube; 'e never saidl poisoni, but I sus
pected it. 'o being bluo and melan
choly-like, by fits and turns-'e never
told me why."
Then, reverontly, they took up the
body and laid it out upon the hami
mock-bod. Doggott arranging the
limbs and closing the eyes before
spreading a sheet ever the rigid form.
"And now, what, Mr. Amber?" he
"Mr. Rutton spoke of a dispatch
box, Doggott. You know where to
(TO BTC CONTrINUE'D.)
Eivery legal expedient for delhi
baving been exhausted, and their ap
peal for executive clemency having
been madie in vain to the president,
five wealthy Alabama lumbermnio
have entered the federal prison at At
lanta to serve penal sentences for the
crime of peonago. Pity will lie ex
tended to the families of these men.
but the event itself cannot but 1)0 re
garded as one of lb. most important
and significant in the whole 'ourse
of the recent awakening of the pulb
lie conscience. it is a dlemonstration
to the country that only by hollding to
personal accountability the mon re
sponsible for violntion of the law car
respect and obedience to law he en
forced. The futility of fines as a ipun
ishment in much cases has beer
shown, but it will only require a ion
such applicath~ms of the law as in
these Alabama convictions to instill
a wholesome regardl for law every
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