And now the climax the drink
driven, hate-burdened sin! And the
reaction, remorse! Why had he done
it? What evil thing in robes of sor
row had assailed his mentality and
fired him to act the assassin?
Two days later, making a clean-up
of his-clalms, Greg Davis left for the
East. In one town he had picked up
a newspaper. "Cowardly murder"
only the headline he read, to drop the
sheet as if It were red hot pitch. Of
course' it alluded to his crime, al
though he was not suspected, for the
dancing letters, 'assassin unknown,"
had met his shrinking vision.
For a month Greg Davis tried the
reckless career of a money miner
"living the life," amid the white lights
of this and that metropolis. Through
it all, however, there seemed to be
an accusing wraith at his side. At
times he swept his weary hand across
his brow as though to brush away
a veritable brand of Cain.
Then one day a great inspiration
came to him. He reckoned up his re
sources. They were substantial
He set bis lips firmly as he formed
a mighty resolution. He patched to
gether stories his old partner had
told him of an old father and mother
and a sister, somewhere in the East.
Finally he recalled even the name of
the town. It was Bridgeton. Thither
He made secret cautious Inquiries.
He located the family. The old peo
ple were living- in a state of semi
destitution, their hom'e mortgaged,
their future hopeless. He learned
that they had not heard from the son
they, had missed and mourned for
over a year.
A daughter supported them by
workipg in a factory in a town some
distance away. By careful stages
Davis formed an acquaintanceship
with the old people. He managed
to arrange that they should give him
room and board. He insisted on pay
ing an extravagant price, "for a
home," as he termed it. Then at the
end of a month he-offered to free the
place from debt if they would accept
him as a permanent guest
There vrs.6 little solace for him in
viewing the new comfort and joy of
the old couple, for was he not the
murderer of their missing son? Still,
he persevered in what he called resti
tution. Dark and gloomy was his life.
Then the daughter, Alma, came
home, and then in a short while Greg
Davis knew that fate had yet to
award to him the severest blow of all,
for love, strange to him before, in
tense, almost feverish, now possess
ed his lonely, longing soul.
"What have you not done for us !"
Alma said to him more than once,
gratitude flooding her eyes.
"Why, I needed a home, friends,"
Davis would lamely explain, all the
time his heart sinking like lead. It
had occupied his time and thoughts
to work around the place for the old
folks. Alma, however, wds a constant
source of reproach and remorse to
him. Every time his eyes fell upon
her, full of love and longing, between
them seemed to come her dead
brother, waving him sternly back,
pointing at him a menacing, accusing
"Heaven shut out because I plung
ed recklessly into that hell of sin
and crime!" he groaned. "I cannot
endure my punishment. I will end it
Davis got aliRus money together
and placed it in the hands of a law
yer, with instructions to deliver it to
old Mr. Moffat should anything hap
pen to himself.
Then one afternoon he proceeded
to a retired spot in the home garden
of the place, sat down on a bench
and drew out a revolver. It was the
same weapon that he had used that
fateful night against his partner.
"A life for a life!" he breathed, sol
emnly, but his suicidal hand was sud
denly stayed. Through the garden
rang the echoing voice of Alma!
"Oh, Mr. Brown!" under this
name she knew him "where are
you? Such news, suoh glorious
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