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the story of Hall's unsuccessful
wooing of .Mary Travers and his
hatred for Vincent Blaine, her
fiance'. When her aunt died
Mary was to marry Blaine. Till
then she would not leave her.
And the lovers had been engaged
"Better leave her alone, Mr.
Hall," said the old lawyer. In his
heart snibuldered a contemptuous
hatred for the man; he would
gladly have dispensed with him
for a client, for he did not relish
the sort of work he would be call
ed upon to do. But he held his
peace, knowiifg that, li necessary,
he could checkmate Hall's evil
"What is the value of Travers
"Easily twelve thousand" dol-
lars, in its present state' the law
yer answered. And, anticipating
th6 next question he continued,
"At a fair rental it should bring a
"Then she owes me twenty
thousand dollars," thought Hall.
But what he said was: "My uncle
must have been mad."
Mary Trayers was prettier than
ever, in Hall's eyes. When he
sav her enter the old-fashioned
drawing room a flame of jealousy
of Blaine burned in his heart.
Mingled with his passion was a
sense of amazement that Mary
should have chosen a poor man,
working for a salary of about $25
a week, in -place of himself, the
prospective heir to a million. His
greeting of Mary was in itself a
"Sjt down, Miss Travers," he
sajd. "I haVe something to sayT
to you. You know, of course,
that my uncle is dead?" )
"Yes," answered Mary. "He
was a good man and an old friend n
of my aunt's. I am sorry, Mr.'
"Well, that's more than I am,
by long odds," Hall answered.
"Don't you know that I've fallen d
heirxto everything he had ? Yes,
and I find that I'm worth a cool
eight hundred and fifty thousand
at the lowest estimate. Now,
Mary I want you to be sensible.
Be my wife. Don't be infatuated
by that man Blaine. He's a good,
honest toiler, no doubt, but he'll
never be anything."
"Mr. Half," said Mary rising,
"I cannot? hear any moiw'
"What, you won't knarry me
"Never 1" she cried angrily, con
fronting iiim' with blazing eyes.
"I hate and despise you."
"Then why .don't you marry
Blaine?" sneered Hamilton Hall.
And, as she did notanswer, he
"I tell you why. You're wait
ing until your aunt dies so as to
get her property. But it isn't hers
it's mine My uncle owned itn
all the time, for the conveyance
was faulty. The title is fraudu-u
lent. And if you don't marry mtfi
why, badly as I'd like to let youl
stay, out she goes, and you, Miss
Mary, unless I get that twentyd
thousand dollars of rent that's inT
His vulgarity of mind had pro-1
duced a similar infirmity of
speech. Now he stopped, halft