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KZ 13 Will
i ifORG DAliR MICUTCI1EON
LUSTRAIONS RAY WALTERS
aite New York home of James Brood
and Riggs. his two old pensioners
Comrades., await the coming of
' son Frederic to learn the contents
Swireless from Brood, but Frederic.
reading. throws it into the fire and
the room without a word. Frederic
Lydia Desmond. his fiancee, that the
e announces his father's marriage
orders the house prepared for an im
te homeoming. Mrs. Desmond, the
keeper and Lydla's mother, tries to
Frederic's temper at the impending
s. Brood and his bride arrive. She
Frederic's liking at first meeting.
)Odlshows dislike and veiled hostility to
Sin. Lydia and Mrs. Brood meet in
ojde-roosm. where Lydia works as
s Secretary. The room, dominated
a great gold Buddha, Brood's father
or, is furnished in oriental mag
ce. Mrs. Brood, after a talk with
which leaves the latter puzzled, is
.lirbed by the appearance of Ranjab,
jHindu servant of Brood. Mrs. Brood
as changes in the household and
, her husband's consent to send Mrs.
-nd and Lydia away. She tries to
lathe mystery of Brood's separation
jI his first wife, and his dislike of his
g but fails. Mrs. Brood fascinates
10eric. They visit Lydia and her moth
#bl their new apartment. Mrs. Brood
im to fear Ranjab in his uncanny ap
,eances and disappearances and Fred
* remembering his father's East Indian
i% and firm bellef in magic, fears un
po evil. Ranjab performs feats of
ilc for Dawes and Riggs.
Then, before their startled, horror
*,ck eyes, the Hindu coolly plunged
h glittering blade into his breast,
jiving it in to the hilt!
"Good Lord!" shouted the two old
Rlanjab serenely replaced the sword
"It is not always the knife that finds
b heart," said he, so slowly, so full
d meaning, that even the old men
piped the significance of the cryptic
*A feller can be fooled, no matter
hw closely he watches," said Mr.
lmes, and he was not referring to
kemazuing sword trick.
"Io, sir," said Mr. Riggs, with
iomy irrelevance, "I don't like that
'Uh old spell of the Orient had
blm upon the ancients. They were
iing the vague whisperings of
ien that came from nowhere, as
1M1 had heard them years ago in the
rstic silences of the East.
,."h! One comes," said Ranjab,
"It will be the master's son."
ha instant later his closet door
cledl noiselessly behind him and the
i Lmen were alone, blinking at each
her. There was no sound from the
hit They waited, watching the cur
~led door. At last tbey heard foot
on the stairs, quick footsteps of
fhiderick strode rapidly into theI
"He Killed a Woman."
SBIi face was livid with rage. For
dment he glowered upon the two
Pmen, his fingers working spasmod
,his chest heaving with the vol
emotions he was trying so hard
Subdue. Then he whirled about,
;are into the hail.
'Ka God's name, Freddy, boy, what's
ned?" cried old Mr. Riggs, all
lse minutes passed before he could
himself to speak. Ugly veins
out on his pale temples, as he
the floor in front of them. Even
SMr. Dawes ventured the vital
o, in a somewhat hushed voice.
ae you--quarreled with your fa
1e young man threw up his arms
a gesture of despair. There was
I of misery in his voice as he
the name of God, why should he
me as he does? What have I
t Am I not a good son to him?"
h!" Implored Mr. Dawes, nerv.
. "He'll hear you."
ear me!" cried Frederic, and
aloud in his recklessness.
- shouldn't he hear me? By
i1 not stand it a day longer. He
't think of treating a dog as
trats me. God, I--I, why, he is
forcing me to hate him. I
te him! I swear to heaven, it
h my heart to kill him down
just now. I-" He could not
SHe choked up and the tears
to his eyes. Abruptly turning
he threw himself upon the
.amd buried his face on his arms,
like a little child.
Sold men, distressed beyond the
of Speech, mumbled incoherent
of conimfort as they slowly edged
)hard the door. They tiptoed
.-e hall and neither spoke until
droom door was closed behind
M r. Dawes even tried it to see
* safely latched.
Urtains parted and Yvonne
in upon the wretched Frederic.
as a look of mingled pain and'
ration in her wide open eyes.
,Oment she stood there regard
in silence. Then asle swiftly
the room to the couch in the
- Where he sat huddled up, his
Still shaking with the mis.
racked him. Her hand went
Stouch the tousled hair, but
before contact Slowly she
With a glance of apprehen.
the door of the Hindu's
closet. An odd expression of alarm
crept into her eyes.
Ad "Frederic." she said, softly, almost
ts He lifted his head quickly, and then
d sprang to his feet. His eyes were wet
ic and his lips were drawn. Shame pos
,e sessed him. He tried to smile, but it
- was a pitiful failure.
"Oh, I'm so ashamed of-of-" hbe
ig began, in a choked voice.
"Ashamed because you have cried?"
o she said quickly. "But no! It is good
to cry-it is good for women to cry.
d But when a strong man breaks down
and sheds tears, I am-oh, I am heart
h broken. Bait come! You must go to
your room and bathe your face. Go at
d once. Your father must not know that
d you have cried. He-"
o ) ")-n him!" came from between
n Frederic's clinched teeth.
I "Hush!" she cried,, with another
glance at Ranjab's door. She would
. have given much to know whether
I- the Hindu was there or still below
n stairs. "You must not say such-"
t "I suppose you're trying to smooth
it over so that they won't consider
him a brute. Is that it?"
"Hush! Please, please! You know
r- that my heart aches for you, mon
d ami. It was cruel of him, it was cow
t, ardly, yes, cowardly! Now I have
said it!" She drew herself up and
d turned deliberately toward the little
door across the room.
d His eyes brightened. The crooked
sneer turned into an imploring smile.
s "Forgive me, Yvonne! You must
see that I'm beside myself. I-I-"
0 "But you must be sensible. Re.
c member he is your father. He is a
strange man. There has been a great
r deal of bitterness in his life. "He-"
"But I can't go on the way things
o are now. He's getting to be worse
than ever. I never have had a kind
h word from him, seldom a word of any
.t description. Never a kind look. Can't
you understand how it goads me to-"
d "1 am your friend," she said slowly.
e "Is this the way to reward me?"
f He dropped to his knees and cov
s ered her hands with kisses, mumbling
a his plea for forgiveness.
"I am so terribly unhappy," he said
I, over and over again. "I'd leave this
house tonight if it were not that I
r can't bear the thought of leaving you,
e Yvonne. I adore you. You are every
3 thing in the world to me. I-"
9 "Get up!" she cried out sharply. He
lifted his eyes in dumb wonder and
adoration, but not in time to catch
f the look of triumph that swept across
"You will forgive me?" he cried,
coming to his feet. "I-I couldn't help
saying it. It was wrong--wrong! But
you will forgive me, Yvonne?"
She turned away, walking slowly
toward the door. He remained rooted
"We Will Excuse You, Frederic,"
to the spot, blushing with shame and
"Where are you going? To tell
him?" he gasped.
She waited an instant, and then
came toward him. He never could
have explained the unaccountable im
pulse that forced him to fall back a'
few steps as she approached. Her eyes
were gazing steadily into his, and her
red lips were parted.
"That is as it should be," she was
saying, but he was never sure that he
heard the words. His knees grew
weak. He was in the toils! "Now,
you must pull yourself together," she
went on in such a matter-of-fact tone
that he straightened up involuntarily.
"Come! Wipe the tear stains from
He obeyed, but his lips still quiv
ered with the rage that had been
checked by the ascendency of another
and even more devastating emotion
She was standing quite close to him
now, her slender figure swaying
slightly as if moved by some strange,
rhythmic melody to which the heirt
beat time. Her eyes were soft and
velvety again; her smile tender and
appealing. The vivid white of her
arms and shoulders seemed io shed
t soft light about her, so radiant was
the sheen of the satin skin.
She moved closer to him, and with
deft fingers applied her tiny lace
handkerchief to his flushed cheek and
eyes, laughing audibly as she did so;
a low gurgle of infinite sweetness and
He stood like' a statue, scarcely
breathing, the veins in his throat
"There!" she said, and deliberately
touched the mouchoir to her o n smil
ing lips, before replacing it In her
bodice, next to the warm, soft skin. "I
have been thinking, Frederic," she
said, suddenly serious. "Perhaps it
would be better if we were not alone
when the others came up. Go at once
and fetch the two old men. Tell them
I expect them here to witness the
magic. It appears to be a family
party, so why exclude them? Be
He dashed off to obey her command.
She lighted a cigarette at the table,
her unsmiling eyes fixed on the door
of the Hindu's closet. Then, with a
little sigh, she sank down on the
broad couch and stretched her supple
body in the ecstasy of complete relax
The scene at the dinner table had
been most distressing. Up to the in
stant of the outburst her husband had
been in singularly gay spirits, a cir
cumstance so unusual that the whole
party wondered not a little. If the
others were vaguely puzzled by his
high humor, not so Yvonne. She un
derstood him better than anyone else
in the world; she read his mind as she
would have read an open book. There
was riot, not joy, in the heart of the
brilliant talker at the head of the
table. He was talking against the sav
agery that strained so hard at its
At her right sat Frederic, at her
left the renowned Doctor Hodder,
whose feats at the operating table
were vastly more successful than his
efforts at the dinner table. He was
a very wonderful surgeon, but equally
famous as a bore of the first rank.
Yvonne could not endure him.
Mrs. Desmond and Lydia were there.
This was an excellent opportunity
to entertain them on an occasion of
more or less magnitude.
Frederic, deceived by his father's
sprightly mood, entered rather reck
lessly into the lively discussion. He
seldom took his eyes from the face
of his beautiful stepmother, and many
of his remarks were uttered sotto
voce for her ear alone. Suddenly
James Brood called out his name in
a sharp, commanding tone. Frederic,
at the moment, engaged in a low ex
change of words with Yvonne, did not
hear him. Brood spoke again, loudly,
harshly. There was dead silence at
"We will excuse you, Frederic," said
he, a deadly calm in his voice. The
puzzled expression in the young man's
face slowly gave way to a steady glare
of fury. He could not trust himself
to speak. "I regret etceedingly that
you cannot take wine in moderation.
A breath of fresh air will be of benefit
to you. You may join us upstairs later
"I haven't drunk a (ull glass of
champagne," begun the ybung man in
- Brood smiled indulgently, but there
was a sinister gleam in his gray eyes.
"I think you would better take my
advice," he said, levelly.
Frederic went deathly pale. "Very
well, sir," he said in a low, suppressed
voice. Without another word he got
up from the table and walked out
of the room.
He spoke the truth later on when
he told Yvonne he could not under
stand. But she' understood. She
knew that Japnes Brood had endured
the situation as long as it was in his
power to endure, and she knew that it
was her fault entirely that poor Fred
eric had been exposed to this crown
ing bit of humiliation.
As she sat in the dim study await
ing her stepson's reappearance with
the two old men, her active, far-seeing
mind was striving to estimate the cost
of that tragic clash. Not the cost to
herself or to Frederic, but to James
The Messrs. Dawes and Riggs, inor
dinately pleased over their rehabilita
tion, were barely through delivering
themselves of their protestations of
undying fealty, when the sound of
voices came up from the lower hall.
Frederic started to leave the room,
not caring to face 1ose who had wit
nes-ed his unmerited degradation.
Yvonne hurried to his side.
"Where are you going?" she cried,
He stared at her in wonder. "You
cannot expect me to stay here--"
"But certainly," she exclaimed
"Listen! I will tell you what to do."
Her voice sank to an imperative whis
per. He listened in sheer amazement,
his face growing dark with rebellion
as she proceeded to unfold her plan
for a present victory over his father.
"No, no! I can't do that! Never,
Yvonne," he protested.
"For my sake, Freddy. Don't forget
that you owe something to me. I
command you to do as I tell you. It
is the only way. Make haste! Open
the window. Get the breath of air
he prescribed. And when they are
all here, apologize for your condition!"
When Doctor Hodder and Mrs. Gun
ning entered the room a few minutes
later young Brood was standing in the
open window, drinking in the cold
night air, and she was blithely regal
ing the blinking old men with an acs.
count of her stepson's unhappy efforts
to drink all of the wine in sightl 4s
she told it, it was a most amusing
James Brood was the last to enter,
s with Miss Followell. He took in the
situation at a glance. Was it relief
h that sprang into his eyes as lie saw
a the two old men?
d Frederic came down from the win
dow, somewhat too swiftly for one who
d is moved by shame and contrition, and
faced the group with a well-assumed
v look of mortification in his Iale,
t twitching face. He spoke in low, re
pressed tones, but not once did he
permit his gaze to encounte~r that of
r "Im awfully sorry to have made a
I nuisance of myself. It does go to my
B head and I-I dare say the heat of
t the room helped to do the work. I'm
a all right now, however. The fresh air
did me a lot of good. Hope you'll
1 overlook my foolish attempt to be a
devil of a fellow." He hesitated a mo
ment and then went on, more clearly.
e "I'm all right now, father. It shall not
happen again, I can promise you
that." A close observer might have
seen the muscles of his jaw harden
r as he uttered the final sentence. He
intended that his father should take
it as a threat, not as an apology.
Brood was watching him closely, a
puzzled expression in his eyes; gradu
ally it developed into something like
admiration. In the clamor of voices
that ensued the older man detected
the presence of an underlying note of
censure for his own behavior. For the
first time in many years he experi
enced a feeling of shame.
Someone was speaking at his
elbow. Janey Followell, in her young,
enthusiastic voice, shrilled something
He Was Getting His Few Things To
gether in His Room.
into his ear that caused him to look
at her in utter amazement. It was so
astounding that he could not believe
he heard aright. He mumbled in a
questioning tone, "I beg your pardon?"
and she repeated her remark.
"How wonderfully like you Frederic
is, Mr. Brood." Then she added: "Do
you know, I've never noticed it until
tonight. It's really remarkable."
"It is a most gratifying discovery,"
said he, and turned to speak to Mrs.
Desmond. He did not take his gaze
from Frederic's white, set face, how
ever! and, despite the fact that he
knew the girl had uttered an idle com
monplace, he was annoyed to find
himself studying the features of Ma
tllde's boy with an interest that
seemed almost laughable when he con
sidered it later on.
His guests found much to talk about
in the room. He was soon being
dragged from one object to another
and ordered to reveal the history, the
use and the nature of countless things
that obviously were intended to be
just what they seemed; such as rugs,
shields, lamps, and so forth. He was
ably asisted by Messrs. Riggs and
Dawes, who lied prodigiously in a
frenzy of rivalry.
"What a perfectly delightful Bud
dha," cried Miss Janey, stopping in
front of the idol. "How perfectly
lovely he is-or is it a she, Mr.
Frederic joined Lydia at the table.
"A delicious scene, wasn't it?" he
asked, bitterly, in lowered tones.
Her fingers touched his. "What did
he mean, Preddy? Oh, I felt so sorry
for you. It was dreadful."
"Don't take it so seriously, Lyddy,"
he said, squeezing her hand gently.
Both of them realized that it was the
nearest thing to a caress that had
passed between them in a fortnight
or longer. A wave of shame swept
through him. "Dear old girl, my dear
old girl," he whispered brokenly.
Her eyes radiated joy, her lips part
ed in a wan, tremulous smile of sur
prise, and a soft sigh escaped them.
"My dear, dear boy," she murmured,
and was happier than she had been in
"See here, old chap," said one of the
middle-aged gentlemen, again consult
ing his watch as he loudly addressed
his host, "can't you hurry this per
formance of yourA along a bit? It is
after ten, you know."
"I will summon the magician," said
Brood. "Be prepared, ladies and gen
tlemen, to meet the devil. RanJab is
the prince of darkness."
He lifted his hand to strike the
gong that stood near the edge of he
Involuntarily four pairs of eyes fas
tened their gaze upon the door to the
Hindn's closet. Three mellow, softly
reverberating "booms" filled the itoom.
Almost instantly the voice of the Hin
du was heard.
Hie cane swiftly into the room fromI
the hall, and not from his closet. The
r look of reli,.f in Yvonne's eyes was
short-lived. She saw amazement in
the laces of the two old m-n--and
"After we have had the feats of
Imagic," Brood was saying, "Miss Des
I.tond . ill rcead to you. ladies and gen
- tlemen, that chapter of our journal-"
"lMy Gawd!" groaned both of the
middll agted gentlemen, looking at
L "-relating to-"
"You'll have to excuse me, Brood,
r really, you know. Important engage
"Sit down, Cruger," exclaimed Hod
der. "The lade won't miss you."
"-relating to our first encounter
with the great and only Ranjab," pur
Ssued Brood, oracularly. "We found
t him in a little village far up in the
I mountains. He was under sentence
of death for murder. By the way,
Yvonne, the kris you have in your
hand is the very weapon the good fel
low used in the commission of his
crime. He was in prison and was to
die within a fortnight after our arrival
in the town. I heard of his unhappy
plight and all that had led up to it.
His case interested me tremendously.
One night, a week before the proposed
execution, my friends and I stormed
the little prison and rescued him. We
were just getting over the cholera and
needed excitement. That was fifteen
years ago. He has been my trusted
body servant ever since. I am sure
you will be interested in what I have
written about that thrilling adven
Yvonne had dropped the ugly knife
upon the table as if it were a thing
that scorched her fingers.
"Did he-really kill a man?" whis
pered Miss Janey, with horror in her
"He killed a woman. His wife, Miss
Janey. She had been faithless, you
see. He cut her heart out. And now,
Ranjah, are you ready?"
The Hindu salaamed. "Ranjab is
always ready, sahib," said he.
The next day, after a sleepless night,
Frederic announced to his stepmother
that he could no longer remain under
his father's roof. He would find some
thing to do in order to support him
self. It was impossible to go on pre
-tending that he loved or respected his
father, and the sooner the farce was
ended the better It would be for both
She, too, had passed a restless night,
a night filled with waking dreams as
well as those which came in sleep.
There was always an ugly, wriggly
krls in those dreams of hers, and a
brown hand that was forever fascinat
ing her with its uncanny deftness.
Twice in the night she had clutched
her husband's shoulder in the terror
of a dream, and he had' soothed her
with the comfort of his strong arms.
She was like a little child "afraid of
Her influence alone prevented the
young man from carrying out his
threat. At first he was as firm as a
rock in his determination. He was
getting his few possessions together
in his room when she tapped on his
door. Aftgf a while he abandoned the
task and followed her rather dazedly
to the boudoir, promising to listen to
reason. For an hour she argued and
pleaded with him, and in the end he
agreed to give up what she was
pleased to call his preposterous plan.
"Now, that being settled," she said,
with a sigh of relief, "let us go and
talk it all over with Lydia."
He started guiltily. "I'd--Id rather
not, Yvonne," he said. "There's no
use worrying her with the thing now.
As a matter of fact, I'd prefer that
she-er-well, somehow I don't like
the idea of explaining matters to her."
She was watching him narrowly. "It
has seemed to me of late, Frederic,
that you and Lydia are not quite so
what shall I say?-so enamored of
each other. What has happened?" she
inquired so innocently, so naively,
that he looked at her in astonishment.
"I am sure you fairly live at her house.
You are there nearly every day, and
yet-well, I can feel rather than see
the change in both of you. I hope-"
"I've been behaving like an infernal
sneak, Yvonne," cried he, conscience
stricken. "She's the finest, noblest
girl in all this world, and I've been
treating her shamefully."
"Dear me! In what way, may 1
"Why we used to-oh, but why go
into all that? Rt would only amuse
you. You'd laugh at us for silly fools.
But I can't help saying this much-
she doesn't deserve to be treated as
I'm treating her now, Yvonne. It's
hurting her dreadfully and-"
She laughed softly. "I'm afraid you
are. seeing too much of your poor
stepmother," she said.
His eyes narrowed. "You've made
me over, that's true. You've made all
of us over-the house as well. I am
not happy unless I am with you. It
used to make me happy to be with
Lydia-and we were always together.
But I--I don't care now-at least, I
am not unhappy when we are apart.
You've done ft, Yvonne. You've made
life worth living. You've made me
see everything differently. You-"
She stood up, facing him. She ap
peared to be frightened.
"Are you trying to tell me that
you are in love with me?" she de
manded, and there was no longer
mockery, raillery in her voice.
His eyes swept her from head to
foot. He was deathly white.
"If you were not my father's wife
I wold say yes," said he, hoarvel.
1 She laughed. "I shall pay no at
r tention to u Ih nonsouns. \u nm at
ShonIest 'et aold I don't blan,' you.
I Wiser mIn than eo; h11ie laliiOn in
I love with m(,, o ' i; n it l 'i"' I like
you, F'redd., I like you ie-ry, very
flll UCh. ,.
"You liki mein bccause I am his
!- on." hecl' 'id b:cytI.
"If you Aetre not his son I should
despise you," sh," :Laid dI t'ii ::toly,
cruelly. lie % inced. "The re, now;
we've said enolugh. You 'nust be
sensible. You will discover that I am
very, very sensible. It is Lydia whom
you love. not I."
"Before heaven, Yvonne, I do love
her. That's what I cannot understand
about myself." He was pacing the
"But I understand," she said. ql.
etly. "Now go away, please. And
don't let me hear another word about
leaving your father's house. You are
not to take that step until I command
you to go. Do you understand?"
He stared at her In utter bewilder
ment for a moment, and slowly nodded
his head. Then he turned toward the
door, shamed and humiliated beyond
As he went swiftly down the stairs
his father came out upon the landing
above and leaned over the railing to
watch his descent. A moment later
Brood was knocking at Yvonne's door.
HI e did not wait for an invitation to
enter, but strode into the room with
She was standing at the window
that opened out upon the little stone
balcony, and had turned swiftly at
the sound of the rapping. Surprise
gave way to an expression of displeas
"What has Frederic been saying to
you?" demanded her husband curtly.
after he had closed the door.
A faint sneer came to her lips.
I "Nothing, my dear James, that you
would care to know," she said, smol
dering anger in her eyes.
"You mean something that I
shouldn't know," he grated.
"Are you forgetting yourselt.
He stared at her incredulously.
"Good Lord! Are you trying to tell
me what I shall do or say-"
She came up to him slowly. "James,
we must both be careful. We meut
not quarrel." Her hands grasped the
lapel of his long lounging'robe. There
was an appealing look in her eyes that
checked the harsh words even as they
rse to his lips. He found himself
Idoking into those dark eyes with the
same curious wonder in his own that
had become so common of late. Time
and again he had been puzzled by
something he saw in their liquid
depths, something he could not fathom,
no matter how deeply he probed.
"What is there about you, Yvonne,
that hurts me-yes, actually hurts me
-when you look at me as you're look.
Ing now?" he cried, almost roughly.
"There is something in your eyes-
there are times when you seem to be
looking at me through eyes that are
not your own. It's-it's quite ua
canny. If you-"
"I assure you my eyes are all my
own," she cried, flippantly, and yet
there was a slight trace of nervous
ness in her manner. "Do you intend
"I Have Advised Him to Bide iie
to be nice and good and reasonabl4
James? I mean about poor Frederic?'
His face clouded again. "Do youee
know what you are doing to the boy?"'
he asked bluntly.
"Quite as well as I know what you
are doing to him." she replied quickly.
He stiffened. "Can't you see what it
is coming to?"
"Yes. He was on the point of leaving
your house, never to come back to it
again. That's what it is coming to,"
she said, lively.
"Why-why, he'd starve!' cried the
man, shaken in spite of himself. "He
has never done a day's labor, he
doesn't know' how to earn a living.
"And who is to blame? You, James,
you! You have tied his hands, and
have penned him up in-"
"We will not go into that," he inter
"Very welL I have advised him to
bide his time."
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Goes the Limit
When a woman is angry she tells a
man just what she thinks of him-and,
incidentally, lust what she thinks oth'
er people think of him.