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The Real Man
By FRANCIS LYNDE (Copyright by Chas. Scribner's Sons) CHAPTER XXIII —17— The Flesh-Pots of Egypt. Convinced by Venin Richlander's h i. phone inessa^- h. the construction camp that lie stood in no immediate danger. Smitlt spent the heel of the af i( rnoon in the High Line offices, keep in " il1 " iro i'*ueh witii Stillings,'whom lie had sent on a secret mission to Red I'.uit* . and with Williams at the dam. 1 he High Line enterprise was on the knees of the gods. If Williams could pull through in time, if the river-swell ing Storms should hold off. if Stanton should delay his final raid past the critical hour—and there was now good ieason to hope that all ot' these con tingencies were probable— the victory was practically won. Smith closed his desk at six o'clock and went across to the hotel to dress for dinner. The day of suspense was practically at an end and disaster still held aloof; was fairly outdistanced in the race, as it seemed. Williams' final report had been to the effect that the concrete-pouring was completed, and the long strain wus off. Smith went to his rooms, and, as once before and for a similar reason, he laid his dress clothes out on the bed. He made sure ihat he would be required to dine with \ erda Richlander, and he wus strip ping his coat when he henrd a tap at the door and Jibhey came in. •'Glad rags, eh?" said the blase one. with a glance at the array on the bed. "I've just run up to tell you that you needn't. Verda's dining with the Stantons, and she wants me to keep yon ont of sight until afterward. Ity and by. when she's foot-loose, she wants to see you in the mezzanine. Isn't there some quiet little joint where we two can go for a bite? You know the town, and I don't." Smith put his coat on. and together they circled the square to Frascati's, taking a table in the main cafe. While they were giving their dinner order, Starbuck came in and joined them, and Smith was glad. For rea sons which he could scarcely have de fined. he was relieved not to have to talk to Jlhbey alone, and Starbuck played third hand admirably, taking kindly to the sham black sheep, and tilling him up. In quiet, straight-faced humor, with many and most marvel ous tales of the earlier frontier. At the end of the meal, while .1 ih 1>ev was still content to linger. listen ing open-monthed to Starbuck's ro mancings, Smith excused himself and returned to the hotel. He had scarce ly chosen his lounging chair in a quiet comer of the mezzanine before Miss Richlander came to join him. "If has been a long day, hasn't it?" she began evenly. "You have been busy with your dam, I suppose, but I—1 have had nothing to do but to think, and that is something that I don't often allow myself to do. You have gone far since that night last May when you telephoned me that you would come up to the house later—and then broke your promise, Montague." "In a way, I suppose I have," he admitted. "You have, indeed. You are a to tally different man." "In what way, particularly?" "In every conceivable way. If one could believe in transmigration, one would say that you had changed souls with some old, hard-hitting, rough riding ancestor. Have your ambitions changed, too?" "I am not sure now that I had any ambitions in that other life." "Oh, yes, you had." she went on smoothly. "In the 'other life.' as you call it, you would have been quite willing to marry a woman who could assure you a firm social standing and money enough to put you on a footing with other men of your capabilities. You wouldn't be willing to do that now. would you?—leaving the senti ment out as you used to leave it out then?" "No, I hardly think I should Her laugh was musically low and sweet, and only mildly derisive, "You are thinking that It is change of environment, wider horizons, and all that, which has changed you, Mon tague; but I know better. It is a woman, and, as you may remember, I have met her—twice." Then, with a faint glow of spiteful fire in the magnificent eyes: "How can you make yourself believe that she is pretty?" He shrugged one shoulder in token of the utter uselessness of discussion in that direction. "Sentiment?" he queried. "I think we needn't go into thut, nt this late day, Verda. It Is u field that neither <*f us entered, or cared to enter. In the days that are gone. If I say that Oorona Baldwin has—quite uncon sciously on her part, I must ask you to believe — taught me what love means, that ought to be enough." Again she was laughing softly. "You seem to have broadly forgot ten the old proverb about a woman scorned. What have you to expect from me after making such an adinls *lon as that?" •Smith pulled himself together and ■tood the argument firmly upon its unquestionable footing. "Let us put all these Indirections i : j | I ! ; 1 as to me I too of it for gets he of eyes. do self. place you aside and be for the moment merely a man and a woman, as God made us. \ erda, he said soberly. "You know, and I know, that there was never any question of love involved in our rela tions past and gone. We might have married, but in that case neither of us would have got or exacted any Ibing more than the conventional de cencies and amenities. We mustn't try to make believe at this late day. You had no illusions about me when I was Watrous Dunham's hired man; you haven't uny illusions about me now'." "Perhaps not." was the calm rejoin der. "And yet today I have lied to save you from those who are trying to crush you." "I told you not to do thut," he re joined quickly. "I know you did ; and yet, when you went away this morning you knew perfectly well that I was going to do it if I should get the opportunity. Didn't you. Montague?" He nodded slowly ; common honesty demanded thut much. "Very well; you accepted the serv ice, and I gave it freely. Mr. Kinzie believes now thut you are another Smith—not the one who ran away from Lawrenceville last May. Tell me: would the other woman have done as much if the chance had fallen to her?" It was on the tip of his tongue to say, "I hope not," but he did not say it. Instead, he said; "Rut you don't really care. Verda ; in the way you are trying to make me believe you do." "Possibly not; possibly I am wholly selfish in the matter and am only look ing for some loophole of escape." "Escape? From whom?" She looked away and shook her i head. "From Watrous Dunham, let : u s say. You didn't suspect that, did j you? It is so, nevertheless. My fa | ther desires it; and I suppose Watrous I Dunham would like to have my money ! —you know I have something in my own right. Perhaps this may help to account for some other things—for your trouble, for one. You were in his way, you see. But never mind that : there are other matters to be considered now. Though Mr. Kinzie has been put off the track. Mr. Stan ton hasn't. I have earned Mr. Stan ton's ill-will because I wouldn't tell him about you. and this evening, at table, he took it out on me." "In what way?" "He gave me to understand, very plainly, that he had done something; that there was a sensation in prospect for all Brewster. He was so exult antly triumphant that it fairly fright ened me. The fact that he wasn't afraid to show some part of his hand to me—knowing that I would be sure to tell you—makes me afraid that the trap has already been set for you." "In other words, you think he has gone over Kinzie's head and has tele graphed to Lawrenceville?" "Montague, I'm almost certain of it!" Smith stood up and put his hands behind him. "Which means that I have only a few hours, at the longest," he said quietly. And then: "There is a good bit to be done, turning over the business of the office, and all that: I've been put ting it off from day to day, saying that there would be time enough to set my house In order after the trap had been sprung. Now I am like the man who puts off the making of his will until it is too late. Will you let me thank you very heartily and vanish?" "What shall you do?" she asked. "Set my house in order, as I say— as well as I can in the time that re mains. There are others to be con sidered, you know." "Oh ; the plain-faced little ranch girl among them, I suppose?" "No; thank God, she is out of it entirely—In the way you mean," he broke out fervently. "You mean that you haven't spoken to her—yet?" "Of course I haven't. Do you sup pose I would nsk any woman to marry me with the shadow of the peniten tiary hanging over me?" "But you are not really guilty." "That doesn't make any difference: Watrous Dunham will see to it that I get what he has planned to give me." She was tapping an impatient tat too on the carpet with one shapely foot. Why don't you turn this new leaf of yours back and go home and fight it out with Watrous Dunham, once for all?", she suggested. I shall probably go, fast enough, when Macauley or one of his deputies gets here with the extradition papers," he returned. "But as to fighting Dunham, without money—" She looked up quickly, and this time there was no mistaking the meaning of the glow in the magnificent brown eyes. "Your friends have money, Monta gue—plenty of It. All you have to do Is to say that you will defend your self. I Dunham couldn't be made to take your place in the prisoner's dock, or that you couldn't be put in his place in the am not sure that Watrous beautiful Lawrenceville Bank and Trust. You have captured Tucker Jibhey. and that means Tucker's father; and my fa ther—well, when it comes to the worst, my father always docs what 1 want him to. It's his one weakness." For one little instant Smith felt the solid ground slipping from beneath his feet. Here was a way out. and his quick mentality was showing him that it was a perfectly feasible way. As Verda Richlander's husband and Jo siah Richlander's son-in-law. lie could fight Dunham and win. And the re ward: once more he could take his place in the small Lawrenceville world, and settle down to the life of conventional good report and ease which he had once thought the acme of any reasonable man's aspirations. But at the half-yielding moment a word of Corona Baldwin's Hashed into his brain and turned the scale: "It did happen in your case . . . giv ing you a chance to grow and expand, and to break with all the old tradi tions . . . and the break left you free to make of yourself what yon hould choose." It was the reincar nated Smith who met the look in the : and made answer. "Xo," was the sober decision; and then lie gave his reasons. "If 1 could I do what you propose, I shouldn't be I .worth the powder it would take to I drive a bullet through me, Verda. for ' now. you see, I know what love means. You say I have changed, and I have } • hanged: I can imagine the past-and gone J. Montague jumping at the chance you are offering. But the mill j will never grind with the water that ! j is past: I'll take what is coming to me. j and try to take it like a man. Good j night—and good-by." And he turned I his back upon the temptation and j went away. Fifteen minutes later he was in his office in the Kinzie building, trying in I vain to get Colonel Baldwin on the distance wire; trying also—and also in vain—to forget the recent clash and break with Verda Richlander. He was jiggling the switch of the desk phone for the twentieth time when a nervous step echoed in the corridor and the door opened to admit William Starbuck. There was red wrath in the mine owner's ordinarily cold eyes when lie flung himself into a chair and eased the nausea of his soul in an out burst of picturesque profanity. "The jig's up—definitely up, John," he was saying, when his speech be came lucid enough to be understood. "We know now what Stanton's 'other ! j j I I j I ; ■ to ' iUlMl u limn # i 'liiro $.i[H, il I ii. m "Your Friends Have Money." string' was. A half hour ago, a deputy United States marshal, with a posse big enough to capture a town, took possession of the dam and stopped the work. He says it's a court order from Judge Lurching at Red Butte, based on the claims of that infernal paper rail road !" Smith pushed the telephone aside. "But it's too late!" he protested. "The dam is completed; Williams phoned me before I went to dinner. All that remains to be done to save the charter is to shut the spillways and let the water back up so that it will flow into the main ditch !" ! ; I j j Right there's where they've got us!" wus the rasping reply. "They won't let Williams touch the spillway gates, and they're not going to let him touch them until after we have lost out on the time limit! Williams' man says they've put the seal of the court on the machinery and have posted armed guards everywhere. Wouldn't that make you run around in circles and yelp like a scalded dog?" CHAPTER XXIV. A Strong Man Armed. Smith put his elbows on the desk and propped his head In his hands. It was not the attitude of dejection; it was rather a tnlncelike rigor of concentration, with each und all of the newly emergent powers once more springing alive to answer the battle call. At the desk-end Starbuck sat with his hands locked over one knee, too disheartened to roll a cigarette, normal solace for all woundings less than mortal. After a minute or two Smith jerked himself around to face the news-bringer. "Does Colonel Baldwin know?' asked. "Sure! That's the worst of it. Didn't I tell you? He drove out to the dam, reaching the works just ahead of the trouble. When M'Graw and the posse outfit showed up, the colonel got it into his head that the whole thing was merely another trick of Stanton's—a fake. Ginty, the quarry boss, brought the news to town. He says there was a bloody mix-up, and at the end of it the colonel and Williams were both under arrest for resisting the officers." Smith nodded thoughtfully. "Of he er 50 a I I I ' } ! course; that was just what was needed. With the president and the chief of construction locked up. ami the wheels Mocked for the next twenty-four hours, our charter will he gone." "This world and another, and then the fireworks." Starbuck threw in. "With the property all roped up in a law tangle, and those stock options of yours tine to fall in. it looks as if a lew prominent citizens of the Tiinan yoni would have to take to the high grass and the tail timber. It sure does. John." "Do you know, Billy. I have been expecting something of tin's kind—and expecting it to be a fake. That's why I sent Stillings to Red Butte; to keep uatch of Judge Lorchitig's court. Still ings was to phone me if Lorehing is sued an order." "And he hasn't 'phoned you?" "Xo; but that doesn't prove any thing. The order may have been is sued, and Stillings may have tried to; let us know. There are a good many ways in which a man's mouth may he stopped—when there are no scruples on the other side." "Then you think there is no doubt ! thut the court order is straight, and! j tlutt this man M'Graw is really a deputy marshal and has the law for j what he is doing?" I "In the absence of any proof to the I contrary, we are obliged to believe it i—or at least to accept it. But \ve'r< not dead yet. . . . Billy, it's run ning in my mind that we've got to go : out there and clean up Mr. Mdraw and his crowd." Starbuck threw up his hands and made a noise like a dry wagon wheel. "Holy smoke!— go up against the whole United States?" he gasped. Smith's grin showed his strong, even teeth. "Starbuck, you remember what 1 •old you one night?—the night I dragged you up to my rooms in the hotel and gave you a hint of the rea son why 1 had no business to make love to Corona Baldwin?" "Yep." "Well, the time has come when 1 may as well fill out the blanks in the story for you." And with Billy look dug straight into his eyes, he di At the end Starbuck was nodiiin^. .... berly. "You sure have been carrying a back-load all these weeks. John, never know ing what minute was going he the next. Xow I know about this Miss Rich-pastures. She knows you and she could give you away if she wanted to. Has she done it. John?" "Xo; but her father lias. Stanton has got hold of the end of the thread, and, while I dou't know it definitely, it is practically certain he sent a wire. If file Brewster police are not looking for me at this moment, they will be short ly. That brings us back to this High Line knockout. As the matter stands. I'm tin- one man in our outfit who has absolutely nothing to lose. I am an officer of the company, and no legal notice lias been served upon me. Can you fill out the remainder of tin* or der?" so - I j "Ne. I'll be switched if I can!" j "Then I'll fill it for you. So far as I know—legally, you understand—this raid has never been authorized by the courts ; at least, that is what I'm go ing to assume until the proper papers have been served on me. Therefore 1 am free to strike one final blow foi the colonel and his friends, and I'm -Mug to do it, if 1 can dodge the police long enough to get action." Starbucks tilting chair righted itself with a crash. "You've thought it all out? how to go at it?" "Every move; and everyone of then; a straight hid for a second penitentiary sentence." "All right," said the mine owner briefly. "Count me in." "For information only," was the brusque reply. "You have a stake in the country and a good name to main tain. I have nothing. But you can tell me a few things. Are our work men still on the ground?" "Yes. Ginty said there were onlv a -just few stragglers who came to town with l*' 111 - «lost of the two shifts are stay 1ou l " fh't their pay—or until they ,iml . out t!lar they aren't going to get it." "And the colonel and Williams: tht marshal is holding them out at the dam?" "1 h-huh ; locked up iu the office shack, Ginty says." "Good. I shan't need the colonel but I shall need Williams. Now an other question: you know Sheriff Harding fairly well, don't you? What sort of a man is he?" "Square as a die, and as nervy a> they make 'em. When he gets a war rant to serve, he'll bring in bis man dead or alive." "That's all I'll ask of him. Now ge, and find me an auto, and then you can fade away and get ready to prove a good, stout alibi." (TO BE CONTINUED.) Candles Vs. Electricity. The Society for Electrical Develop rnent, anxious to encourage a wider use of electricity for lighting, has pre pared figures showing It is much cheap er than candles or kerosene. A recent test of six candles showed that for 1 cent only 2.68 candle-power hours were obtained. If electricity for lighting costs 9 cents for a kilowatt hour a 20-watt lamp can be lighted for 50 hours for 9 cents. The efficiency of a 20-watt incnndescent Is a candle power for 1.17 watts, thus a 20-watt lamp will provide about 17 candle power. It will burn 50 hours for 9 cents, or 850 candle-power hours will cost 9 cents. One cent will buy 9^4 candle-power hours, or 35 time® aj much light as can be obtained „Coin « candle for 1 cent WhaÆ'ViteTI Dress* Women Will Wea!i fl» r r m 5 I WITHIN HER OWN FOUR WALLS. Xext to the tailored suit the after noon dress takes its place as the most Important dement of success in the wardrobe, to be assembled in the fall. It has been made in such variety that a selection merits a great deal of at tention. it appears in satin and In wool, with satin preponderating, and Is more or less elaborate (if one can call any of the season's styles elab orate) according n> the uses it Is to be put to. Many of the new models are entire- ! Iy of satin, with even the lovely and ! beloved crepe georgette in sleeves and bodice replaced by satin. But crepe I Is not entirely banished and is not ! likely tu be. h is tmi valuable an asset to the designers of gowns and I too becoming to their wearers to lose! A satin gown appears in the picture made with a tunic partly of satin and portly of embroidery, which lias the appearance of beading, made by ap plying a tiny silk cord wound with a i I «>-. \ - SOFT VELVET HATS FOR MISSES. * silver band in a pattern to ; of any kind. It is particularly >n gray, taupe, black and dark mlnut fabric good blue. A trace <>f tin* tonneau idea remains In the skirt of this gown, which Is cut to Hare out at the hips. The long sleeves are of plain crepe and the bodice and upper part of the tunic of satin and of crepe with the new em broidery. The lines are almost straight, with an inconspicuous and soft girdle of satin, playing hide and seek with the embroidered crepe on the bodice. Measured by present standards, this gown may be called elaborate. A cluster of silk and chenille flowers on the bodice do their part toward brightening its dignified color, which is taupe, but might be dark blue or gray or black with equal ly good effect. Even the little miss of eleven (or more) years may be happy in the pos session of a velvet hat this winter, for those who make it their business to look after her needs in headwear have gone in for velvet. The soft crowns and soft brims of the new shapes make Just the kind of headwear for little girls; Hopping brims and big puffed crowns that belong to youth. Velvets in black, dark brown and other dark colors make up a large part of winter millinery for misses. For trimming, heavy ribbons, silk cord and tassels, fur ornaments and bandings, are featured with ribbon in the lead and used in many ways. The three hats shown in the group i printed above are representative type# I among velvet bats for girls. The picturesque model at the left Is much like the familiar old favorites, In leg horn and other straws, with broad, floppy brims that have always belong ed to youth. But the crown and brim arc both softer than those of its proto types. It is of Mack velvet bound with grosgrain ribbon and has a small fur ornament at the front. The hat at the right is merely a large puff of velvet over a narrow drooping brim, hound with ribbon. It lias a collar, and long ends at the back of grosgrain ribbon. The small hat at the center has a collapsible crown, mounted on a narrow, upturned brim. The head supports the crown, which is weighted at one side with a silk cord and tassel. The edge of the brim is bound with narrow grosgrain ribbon. These hats represent the ideas of people who specialize in this particu lar kind of millinery. They seem very simple, hut the hand and eye of the experienced designer Is evident in all of them. Novel Designs. If one wishes to represent the spirit of the day she may choose a pattern in which the Hags of the allies appear as spokes, and. combined, form the "wheel of progress," the whole car ried out In the correct colors against a delicate background. Regular menageries appear on some Stuffs—one in particular shows a leopard springing upon u defenceless lamb. But others carry out peaceful scenes and depict botanical garden# and butterflies. OÜ for Chamois Gloves. To wash chamois gloves, put them on your hands and scrub them clean with a mild soap and warm water. Take them off and rinse. Into the last rinse water add a liberal table spoonful of olive oil—that is, a table spoonful to a basin of water. Dry in the shade. Greek Influence in Evening Gowns. A number of evening models show Greek Inspiration, the two sides of the Sown made in contrasting style. In some instances, draperies are caught 'up with embroidery.