My Dear Nephew [it read]:—This will introduce Detective Daly of the Blinkerdons, who, at my request, has been for eight or nine weeks attending to matters of importance to you. He will show you his bill for services and expenses, which I would suggest deserves your early consideration. If you decline, for any reason, to pay the bill, kindly let me know at once, that I may give him my own check for the amount.Yours, etc.,Dugald Camran.New York, April 9th, 1898.
My Dear Nephew [it read]:—This will introduce Detective Daly of the Blinkerdons, who, at my request, has been for eight or nine weeks attending to matters of importance to you. He will show you his bill for services and expenses, which I would suggest deserves your early consideration. If you decline, for any reason, to pay the bill, kindly let me know at once, that I may give him my own check for the amount.
Yours, etc.,
Dugald Camran.
New York, April 9th, 1898.
I opened the bill, which had fallen upon the table, and read the following:
"What the devil does this mean, sir?" I demanded, very red in the face.
"It means," said Mr. Daly, affably, "that your uncle engaged me to make the West Indian voyage in your company and protect you from any designing persons. The price per day was the one he himself fixed, and is somewhat less than I am in the habit of receiving. A desire to visit that part of the world induced me to accept the lower rate. The expenses, I hardly think you will deny, have been kept very reasonable."
I reddened more than ever.
"In plain English, sir, you have been dogging my footsteps, and desire me to foot the bill."
"You or your uncle—it is all the same to me," he responded, quite unruffled. "I think you have had some narrower escapes, sir, than you yet realize."
With Miss May's confession lying before me on the table I could not well doubt that. Still the shame of my position was no less galling.
"We can postpone the consideration of that little matter for the present, if you desire," continued Daly, for such I must now call him. "What is of more pressing importance, is the examination of Jack Hazen, or Robert Edgerly, as you knew him, which is set down for day after to-morrow."
"What!" I cried, startled out of myself.
"Oh, I forgot. You know the check for $350 that you gave him when he buncoed you on the Madiana? Well, he raised that to $3500, and was arrested while trying to collect that sum at your bank. After you told me you had given him the check I had just time to stop the swindle by cable."
Edgerly arrested? Poor Marjorie! That was all I could think of.
"He is an old offender," continued Daly, "and will get a sweetener this time. At what hour can I expect you to-morrow at the district attorney's office? Twelve o'clock will suit me. Twelve? All right. I see you are busy. Good day, Mr. Camran."
He was gone and I sat there alone with my reflections. It may readily be guessed they were not agreeable.
The only thing I was sure of was that I should pay Daly's bill at once, if I had the requisite balance to my credit in the bank; and that I wished he had been in a warmer place than Barbados before he ever interfered in my affairs.
BEHIND THE BARS.
Why should I blame poor Daly for doing what his profession and the law he followed dictated plainly? Why should I blame my Uncle Dugald for putting me under guardianship, after I was supposed to have reached the years of discretion?
These are indeed pregnant questions. If the reader has had neurasthenia and only partially recovered, he will know that the victim of that malady needs no legitimate reason for any fancies that possess him. It is plain to me—now—that in sending Daly on my track, my Uncle was acting the part of a considerate and thoughtful relation.
It is equally clear to me—now—that the conduct of Daly, from first to last, deserves the highest praise. Instead of demurring for an instant at his bill I would have done well to add $500 to it as a present.
At the moment he was to me like a blistering plaster, making me think of nothing but the irritation and pain. It is little consolation to be told, under any circumstances, that one has played the part of a fool.
I went to dinner at the club moodily, and on returning to my apartments set myself to consuming as many cigars as possible in a given time. They were cigars I had bought from a Kingston manufacturer and were decidedly better than many sold under thename of "Havanas," since the troubles began in Cuba. I must have smoked at least twenty of them before I paused, put on my hat and light overcoat, and went out of doors, to see if the open air would have any effect in clearing the mist that hung over my brain.
I walked aimlessly for some time, in various directions, and found myself standing opposite my own windows an hour after I began. I wondered if I would be able to sleep if I went into the house. Unconsciousness was the thing most to be desired, it seemed to me. As I had about come to the conclusion to try it, a low voice called my name and its tones filled me with a thrill that was indescribable.
"Mr. Camran!"
"Yes," I replied, laconically.
"I know," said the voice, and I saw the outlines of the figure I remembered so well, "I know—that I have no right—to appeal to your pity—or to ask your aid. I have, unfortunately—no other resource—and—I beg you—as you hope for mercy at the bar of Heaven—give me—a few minutes—where I can speak to you—in private."
That form was bent, the tears in that voice were real; she was not acting now.
"Will you come up to my rooms?" I asked.
"I should be so thankful!"
"Come, then."
We went in together, astonishing the hallboy somewhat, for to do myself justice, he had never seen me enter at that time of the evening so accompanied. When we were in my sitting room, and the door shut—I did not turn the key, rememberingher aversion to locked doors—she began to speak, slowly and tremblingly:
"I am overcome with shame—I am plunged in a despair that only you can lighten. I know well—that I deserve nothing—at your hands. I—I have robbed you, insulted you—done everything to earn your hatred and contempt; and yet—"
"And yet," I interrupted, for her attitude touched me deeply, "and yet—you have not succeeded in earning either."
She sprang up with the evident intention of threwing herself at my feet, but I caught her by the hands—those hands whose touch had given me such delight only a week ago! How cold they were!
"Let us come to the point," I said, when she was again seated. "Your husband is in jail; you found it out after you sent me that confession; and you want me to free him."
She rocked herself backward and forward.
"You have known what it is to love," she moaned. "You have not known what it is to be wedded. That man is my very life! If they condemn him to a long term in prison they will, at the same time, condemn me to death. I realize how little right I have to appeal to you—but there is no other way. If you testify against us, we are ruined irreparably. Oh, Mr. Camran—Don!—if there is one bright memory in your heart in all the days you and I passed together, let that one plead now for a most unhappy woman!"
I did not want her to suffer. I had no desire to punish her. Had she been unmarried I would have offered her my hand again—yes, after all I knew!
"It was not by my wish that your husband wasarrested," I said, gently. "In fact, I only learned of it an hour ago."
"But you can save him—you, and you alone!" she cried. "What does it mean to you, the money you have lost by us? The check you gave him was never paid, not even the sum for which you wrote it. I know—I know he struck you, he tried to kill you—I know it all! but you escaped unharmed. As for me, I swear to send to-morrow every article you bought—yes, I will get even the money you have paid for my passage and hotel bills. Every penny shall be put into your hands before noon—if you will have mercy on us."
"Marjorie," I answered, "I do not know what I can do, but let me assure you I will do all I can. If any act of mine will set your husband at liberty you may rely on me to perform it."
She seemed hardly able to believe that she heard aright. She laughed through her tears, discordantly.
"You will do this!" she exclaimed. "You are in earnest? And what are your stipulations? Oh! Remember how little I have left of womanly honor, and ask nothing I cannot grant."
A whiteness had come to her lips at the sudden thought that alarmed her.
"I only ask," I answered, shakingly, "that you carry out the purpose of which you spoke in your last letter; that of going far away from this part of the world—where I shall never set eyes on you again. You are to me like a dream that is past: a beautiful dream I must blot from my brain. Within a week I shall have forgotten the thorns and recall only the perfume of roses. A yearlater I hope to forget the roses themselves. Marjorie, you are the wife of another man. You are, by your own admission, a woman with whom it would be suicide to link my life. But I love you yet. No, do not start. This is my last word on that subject. After all, you have done something for me. From this day the love of woman will never be esteemed a light thing in my mind. A young roué has had a shock that he will not forget. His idle search for pleasure is ended. I shall be another and a better man—even because I have known you."
"And you will save Jack?" she said, entreatingly.
"I will do all I can—'perjure myself like a gentleman'—if necessary. I think you may be sure of having him set free within a very few days."
"What can I do to thank you?" she asked, the tears streaming again from her eyes.
"Nothing," I said, after a moment of hesitation.
For a second I had thought of asking one pure kiss, on the lips. I knew, before the next second had passed that she would refuse it, though her husband's freedom depended on the issue.
"Nothing," I repeated.
As she rose and held out her hands to me in the attitude of parting, I affected not to see the movement. "Good-by," I said, huskily. "No; say no more. Good-by."
At the door to which I allowed her to go alone, she had an instant of doubt.
"You would not be so cruel as to deceive me?" she said, trembling.
I waved my hand in a negative, but I couldnot trust myself to speak. I was afraid, terribly afraid, that if she did not go at once I should clasp her, willing or unwilling, in my arms, and crush her mouth with my own. And that I would not have done for the world.
As early the following morning as I could expect to find Harvey Hume in his office I was there. Having nothing whatever to do, as usual, he drew me into a private room, closed the door and asked to what he was indebted for a call at that hour.
"I want to consult you on a legal matter," I said, gravely. "Now, do not get excited, for you will need all your wits. Listen!"
I told him that a man was lying in jail under the charge of having raised the figures on a check of mine; that it was my desire that the man should go free; and that I wanted him to tell me how to accomplish that result.
"He is unjustly accused?" he said, interrogatively.
"Whether he is or not doesn't matter. I want him set at liberty."
Hume thought deeply for some moments.
"Did you give him the original check?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Then, of course, you remember the figures it bore at that time."
"I wouldn't like to swear to them," I said, evasively.
"They can't convict him unless you do, if he is well defended."
"But," I said, "I don't want him tried at all. Iwant him released now. Isn't there some way to accomplish that?"
Harvey thought a little longer and finally said he would arrange it. He was to go at once to the jail and unveil his scheme to "Edgerly," and afterwards turn up about noon at the district attorney's office.
As the clocks were striking twelve I met Daly on the steps of the courthouse. He complimented me on my promptness, with a keen look that showed he scented his prey. As we were entering the room of the dispenser of justice, Hume came along and addressed me.
"I say, Camran," he remarked, careful that Daly should hear every word, "I am engaged to appear for a poor chap who is up for raising a check of yours. I was just going in to see the district attorney. I must say, the man seems as innocent of wrong as any fellow I ever met."
"Will you kindly introduce me to this gentleman?" asked Daly of me.
When this was done, he informed Hume that Hazen was a well known sharper and that in the present case there was no doubt whatever of his guilt.
"Mr. Camran gave him a check for $350 to settle the balance of a game of cards that I will swear was a swindle, for I watched it; and when the check was brought into the bank it had been raised to $3500. Luckily I got word that the check had been given in time to put the bank people on their guard by cable and he was arrested on the spot."
"Is this true?" asked the lawyer, of me.
"I don't know," I responded, carelessly. "I gavehim a check—certainly—but for what amount I am absolutely unable to swear. I was confused at the time—a little put out, naturally—"
Daly was surveying me with a look of rage.
"So you're going to throw it up, are you?" he asked, gutturally. "And one of the prettiest cases I ever worked on, too."
"I will mail you the amount of your bill this afternoon," I said, impudently.
"The amount of my—" he repeated, dolefully. "Yes; but the gain to my reputation that would have resulted—who will compensate me for that? Gad, I'll never take hold of another case that has a woman in it! They can knock over the best of us. You can let your check-raiser go, for all of me," he said to the district attorney, as that gentleman came to the threshold. "The evidence seems to have petered out."
Mr. Hume and I talked the matter over with the official, explained the part he took in the affair, and it was arranged that the case would not be brought before the Grand Jury at all.
"I want to say I think you've played it a little low down on a man that interfered to save your life," said Daly to me, as he left the building. "But I'll watch for that fellow and you can bet I'll get him on something yet before he dies."
I had no wish to argue with him. He was undoubtedly right, from his standpoint.
It was enough for me to know I had succeeded in accomplishing what would put the roses into Marjorie's cheeks once more.
"I PRESSED THEM TO MY LIPS."
I was very lonesome for a few weeks after my return. This it was that took me so often to the house occupied by the Bartons. Tom was immensely glad to see me, at all times, and Statia, though still very sober in my society, began to treat me with her old kindness.
One day, when Hazen was out of jail, and undoubtedly far away from the city, I asked Statia if she would like to hear a diary of my journey to the West Indies. She hesitated a little, saying finally that her answer would depend a great deal on what the diary contained. I told her how I had put the entire affair, from the beginning, into shape for publication and what I wanted was her opinion of my scheme. While there were many things that might not reflect great credit on me, there was nothing, I believed, that it would be improper for her to hear. She thought a little longer and then asked if she might not read it for herself instead of having it read to her. I accepted the amendment, being in fact glad she suggested it, and brought Miss May's MS. to her the very next morning.
When a couple of days had passed Tom dropped in to say that his sister would like to see me, if I found it convenient to run over. In another hour I was in her presence. She met me with a frown on her pretty face and stood for a minute regarding me silently.
"Don, have you told the whole truth in that manuscript?" she asked, then.
"The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me!" I responded with upraised hand.
"It is an awful avowal, take it altogether," she said, soberly. "I almost wish you had not brought it to me. I never shall feel quite the same after this. How could a woman of that description so affect a man like you?"
"I am not going to discuss that," I answered. "Is it worth publishing, that's the point? I have altered every name, you see, so no one not in the secret will recognize a single person involved. It's a rather unusual collection of occurrences, don't you think?"
She assented with a nod to the last proposition, and said as for the literary "market" she supposed in its present state it was not over squeamish.
"The success of the season is 'Quo Vadis,'" she added, "and I wasn't able to read half of it. There is at least a lesson to be learned from this experience of yours, if men will only heed the warnings."
"Thank you," I said, with polite irony, though I didn't agree with her about Sienkiewicz' great work. "Can you think of anything I might add, to round out the tale, as it were?"
A flush came into her face and a slight smile to the corners of her mouth.
"Yes. You might say that 'Statia' admitted to you afterwards that the letters signed 'Alice Brazier' were her own, copied by a friend in the handwriting of the latter and sent from her residence."
My surprise, which was complete, turned the smile into a little laugh at my expense.
"And you might say also," she continued, "that during your absence with 'Marjorie,' your friend 'Tom's' sister was taking lessons in typewriting and became quite proficient in that art. And that she told you, whenever you wanted to take another journey, and needed assistance in literary work, she would apply for the position rather than have you made the victim of any designing creature of her sex."
"Statia!" I cried, "you have entirely forgiven me?"
"Entirely," she said. "I couldn't wish you any greater punishment than you have endured."
A month passed and one day a box addressed to me was brought to my door by an expressman, with the charges prepaid from some point beyond the Rockies. Wonderingly I saw it opened and then, at the first glance into the interior, I told the boy who plied the hammer that I would unpack it myself.
It contained the entire outfit that "Marjorie" had bought with my money—the jewelry included.
There were the hats which had adorned her fair head; the gowns that had been draped around her graceful body; the shoes, the hosiery, the lingerie—everything!
I took them out slowly, one by one. I pressed them to my lips, letting teardrops fall on each separate article. I could only think of what I had lost—of what, in truth, I had never gained. I put the articles away, finally, locking them securely from all prying eyes.
This little note was found in the box, pinned to a scarf:
My Dear Friend:—Although you told me you did not want to take your things back, I shall feel better to send them to you. It leaves me in your debt only for the other expenses of my voyage, and perhaps the typewriting I did will in some measure compensate for that. Long ago you must have recovered from the tender sentiment with which you used to insist I inspired you, and I hope have also learned to think of me with less aversion than you felt at the last. If I might be permitted to give advice it would be offer your hand and heart to 'Statia Barton.' You need a wife; I am sure, she would make an excellent one.Farewell; this time, forever!M.M.
My Dear Friend:—Although you told me you did not want to take your things back, I shall feel better to send them to you. It leaves me in your debt only for the other expenses of my voyage, and perhaps the typewriting I did will in some measure compensate for that. Long ago you must have recovered from the tender sentiment with which you used to insist I inspired you, and I hope have also learned to think of me with less aversion than you felt at the last. If I might be permitted to give advice it would be offer your hand and heart to 'Statia Barton.' You need a wife; I am sure, she would make an excellent one.
Farewell; this time, forever!
M.M.
Recovered from my love for you? Not yet, Marjorie, not yet. That will come in time, I trust, but it is still too soon.
Offer my hand to Statia? I would not insult that noble girl again with such a worthless gift. As for my heart, it has not come back to me, and I do not know as it ever will.
"Well," said Mr. Cook, the senior partner of the Dillingham Company, as I signed the contract whichgave him the right to publish this "novel,"—"you've had what the doctor prescribed, at least."
"A New Sensation," he explained, as I looked at him inquiringly.
THE END.
SPECIAL NOTE: If this should meet the eyes of Mr. Mathew Howes of Binghamton, or Miss Howes, they are hereby informed that a diamond bracelet is awaiting its owner at The Lambs Club.D.C.
THE POPULAR NOVELSOFMAY AGNES FLEMINGTHE ACTRESS' DAUGHTER.QUEEN OF THE ISLE.A CHANGED HEART.SHARING HER CRIME.EDITH PERCIVAL.THE SISTERS OF TORWOOD.A FATEFUL ABDUCTION.WEDDED FOR PIQUE.MAUDE PERCY'S SECRET.A WIFE'S TRAGEDY.THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN.A WRONGED WIFE.NORINE'S REVENGE.PRIDE AND PASSION.Mrs. Fleming's stories have always been extremely popular. Their delineations of character, lifelike conversations, the flashes of wit, their constantly varying scenes and deeply interesting plots combine to place their author in an enviable position, which is still maintained despite the tremendous onrush of modern novelists. No more brilliant or stirring novels than hers have ever been published, and, strange as it may seem, the seeker after romance today reads these books as eagerly as did our mothers when they first appeared.All published uniform, cloth bound. Price, 50cents each, and sent FREE by mail,on receipt of price byG.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANYPUBLISHERSNEW YORK
THE POPULAR NOVELS
OF
MAY AGNES FLEMING
Mrs. Fleming's stories have always been extremely popular. Their delineations of character, lifelike conversations, the flashes of wit, their constantly varying scenes and deeply interesting plots combine to place their author in an enviable position, which is still maintained despite the tremendous onrush of modern novelists. No more brilliant or stirring novels than hers have ever been published, and, strange as it may seem, the seeker after romance today reads these books as eagerly as did our mothers when they first appeared.
Mrs. Fleming's stories have always been extremely popular. Their delineations of character, lifelike conversations, the flashes of wit, their constantly varying scenes and deeply interesting plots combine to place their author in an enviable position, which is still maintained despite the tremendous onrush of modern novelists. No more brilliant or stirring novels than hers have ever been published, and, strange as it may seem, the seeker after romance today reads these books as eagerly as did our mothers when they first appeared.
All published uniform, cloth bound. Price, 50cents each, and sent FREE by mail,on receipt of price by
G.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
PUBLISHERSNEW YORK
THE FASCINATING NOVELSOFCelia E. GardnerBROKEN DREAMS (In verse).TESTED.COMPENSATION (In verse).TERRACE ROSES.HER LAST LOVER.TWISTED SKEIN (In verse).RICH MEDWAY'S TWO LOVES.A WOMAN'S WILES.STOLEN WATERS (In verse).WON UNDER PROTEST.These stories are as far removed from the sensational as possible, yet in matter as well as style, they possess a fascination all their own. The author makes a specialty of the study of a woman's heart. Their tone and atmosphere are high; the characterizations good; the dialogue bright and natural. Her books have had an enormous sale.12 mo. Cloth bound. Price, 50 centseach, and sent FREE by mail, onreceipt of price byG.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANYPUBLISHERSNEW YORK
THE FASCINATING NOVELS
OF
Celia E. Gardner
These stories are as far removed from the sensational as possible, yet in matter as well as style, they possess a fascination all their own. The author makes a specialty of the study of a woman's heart. Their tone and atmosphere are high; the characterizations good; the dialogue bright and natural. Her books have had an enormous sale.
These stories are as far removed from the sensational as possible, yet in matter as well as style, they possess a fascination all their own. The author makes a specialty of the study of a woman's heart. Their tone and atmosphere are high; the characterizations good; the dialogue bright and natural. Her books have had an enormous sale.
12 mo. Cloth bound. Price, 50 centseach, and sent FREE by mail, onreceipt of price by
G.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
PUBLISHERSNEW YORK
THE CHARMING NOVELSOFJULIE P. SMITHBLOSSOM BUD.CHRIS AND OTHO.COURTING AND FARMING.HIS YOUNG WIFE.KISS AND BE FRIENDS.LUCY.THE MARRIED BELLE.TEN OLD MAIDS.THE WIDOWER.WIDOW GOLDSMITH'S DAUGHTER.Julie P. Smith's books are of unusual merit, uncommonly well written, cleverly developed and characterized by great wit and vivacity. They have been extremely popular, and they still retain to a great degree their former power to charm. Her pictures of farm life and of rural conditions are wholesome and finely done. The human interest is never lacking from her stories.All published uniform, cloth bound. Price, 50cents each, and sent FREE by mail,on receipt of price byG.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANYPUBLISHERSNEW YORK
THE CHARMING NOVELS
OF
JULIE P. SMITH
Julie P. Smith's books are of unusual merit, uncommonly well written, cleverly developed and characterized by great wit and vivacity. They have been extremely popular, and they still retain to a great degree their former power to charm. Her pictures of farm life and of rural conditions are wholesome and finely done. The human interest is never lacking from her stories.
Julie P. Smith's books are of unusual merit, uncommonly well written, cleverly developed and characterized by great wit and vivacity. They have been extremely popular, and they still retain to a great degree their former power to charm. Her pictures of farm life and of rural conditions are wholesome and finely done. The human interest is never lacking from her stories.
All published uniform, cloth bound. Price, 50cents each, and sent FREE by mail,on receipt of price by
G.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
PUBLISHERSNEW YORK
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:Obvious typographical and printer errors have been corrected without comment.In addition to obvious errors, the following changes have been made:Page 53: removed the word "be" from the phrase "... who is to be become my employee...." leaving, "... who is to become my employee...."Page 153: changed "profoundedly" to "profoundly" in the phrase, "I was profoundly grateful...."Page 234: changed "an" to "as" in the phrase, "... your face is as innocent as a babe's."Other than the above, no effort has been made to standardize internal inconsistencies in spelling, capitalization, punctuation, grammar, etc. The author's usage is preserved as found in the original publication.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Obvious typographical and printer errors have been corrected without comment.
In addition to obvious errors, the following changes have been made:
Page 53: removed the word "be" from the phrase "... who is to be become my employee...." leaving, "... who is to become my employee...."Page 153: changed "profoundedly" to "profoundly" in the phrase, "I was profoundly grateful...."Page 234: changed "an" to "as" in the phrase, "... your face is as innocent as a babe's."
Page 53: removed the word "be" from the phrase "... who is to be become my employee...." leaving, "... who is to become my employee...."
Page 153: changed "profoundedly" to "profoundly" in the phrase, "I was profoundly grateful...."
Page 234: changed "an" to "as" in the phrase, "... your face is as innocent as a babe's."
Other than the above, no effort has been made to standardize internal inconsistencies in spelling, capitalization, punctuation, grammar, etc. The author's usage is preserved as found in the original publication.