'3.
.l’v
;
i. .
i
I
' l
SECOND INSTALLMENT
, Chapter ll—Contlnued
“Not your political Career, sir?"
"There was a moment in which
Chilcote hesitated, a moment In
which the desire that had filled his
a mind for months rose to his lips and
‘ ;* hung there; then the question, the
lncredullty in Blessington's face,
chilled it and it fell back into si-
ience.
“i—-I didn't say that,” he mur-
mured. "You young men Jump to
conclusions, Blessington."
“Forgive me, sir. I never meant
to imply retirement. Why, Rick-
shaw, Vale. Cressham, and the whole
Wark crowd would be about your
cars like files if such a thing were
even breathed—now more than ever,
since these Persian rumors. Iiy-the-
way. is there anything real in this
border business? The St. George‘s
came out rather strong last night."
Chilcote had moved back to the
table. His face was pale from his
. outburst and his fingers toyed rest-
iessly with the open newspaper.
“‘1 haven't seen the St. George‘s,“
he said. hastily. “Lakcly is always
ready to shake the' red rag where
Russia is concerned; .whether we
are to enter the arena is another
matter. But what about Craig, llur-
huge? I think you mentioned some-
thing of a contract."
".“Oh, don‘t worry about that, sir."
Bledslngton had caught the twitching
at the corners of Chllcote's mouth,
the nervous sharpness of his voice.
"I can put Craig, llurnuge oil'. If
they have an answer by Thursday it
will be time enough." He began to
collect his papers, but Chilcote
stopped him.
“Wait," he said, veering suddenly.
“Wait. I'll see to it now. I‘ll feel
more myself when I've done some-
thing. I‘ll coule with you to'tile
study."
He walked hastily across the
room; then, with his hand on the
door, he paused.
"You go first, Blessington," he
said. "I‘ll—I'll follow you in ten
minutes. I must glance through the
newspapers first."
Iiicssington looked uncertain. “You
won‘t forget, sir?"
"Forget? Of course tint."
Still doubtfully, lilcssinuton
the room and closed the door.
Once alone. Cililcote walked slow-
ly back to the table, drew up his
chair, and sat down with his eyes
on the white cloth, the paper lying
left
, unneeded beside him.
Time passed. A servant came into
the roonl to remove the breakfast.
Chllcote moved slightly when neces-
sary, but otherwise retained his ai-
titude. The servant, having finished
his task, replenished the tire and
left the room. Chllcote still sat on.
At last, feeling numbed, he rose
and crossed to the fireplace. The
clock on the mantel-piece stared him
in the face. Jle looked at it, started
slightly, then drew out his watch.
Watch and clock corresponded. Each
marked twelve o‘clock. \Vith n nerv-
ous motion he leaned forward and
pressed the electric bell long and
hard.
Instantly a servant answered.
"ls Mr. lilcssington in the study?"
Chllcote asked.
"lie was there. sir, five minutes
back."
Chiicote looked relieved.
“All rlglltl Tcll him I have gone
out-mud to go out. Something im-
portant. You understand?“
”I understand, sir."
in: before the words had been
properly spoken (‘hilcoio had passed
the man and walked into the half.
CHAPTER III
EAVING his house, Chilcote
walked forward quickly and aim-
lessly. With the sting of the outer
air the recollection of last night's
adventure came back upon him.
Since the hour of his waking it had
hung about with vague persistence,
but now in the clear light of day it
Rert‘d to stand out with a fuller
peculiarity.
The thing was preposterous, nev-
ertheless it was genuine. lie was
wearing the overcoat he had worn
the night befoi’e. and, acting on im-
pulse, he thrust his hand into the
pocket and drew out the stranger’s
card.
“Mr. John Loderl” He read the
name over as he walked along, and
it mechanically repeated itself in his
brain—falling into measure with his
steps. Who was John Loder? What
was he? The questions,tantallzed
him till his pace unconsciously in-
creased. The thought that tWo men
so absurdly alike could inhabit the
same city and remain unknown to
j each. other faced him as a. problem:
it tangled with his personal'worrles
; end-aggravated them. There'seemed
, to be almost a- danger in‘ such an
ktrs'ordinary likeness; He began
.- to regret his impetuosity in thrust-
ing his card upon the man. Then,
stun. how he had let himself go on
the subject of Lexington! How nar.
rowly he had escaped compromisei
He turned hot and cold at the recolé
~lection of what he had said and '
what he might have said. Then for
the first time he paused “this walk
~snd looked about him.
On leaving Grosvenoquuai-e he
had turned westward. moving rapid.
Iy till the Marble Arch Ms'reached:
still oblivious to his surround-
ings. he had crossed the roadway to
Mme. Reed, m slung it
that lie behind Paddington. how, as
he glanced about him. he saw with
some surprise how far he had come.
The damp remnants of the fog still
hung about the house-tops in a filmy
veil; there were no glimpses of
green to break the monotony of tone;
all was quiet. dingy, neglected. But‘
to Chiicote the shabblness was rest-
ful, the subdued atmosphere a satis—
faction. Among these and houses,
these passers-by, each filled with his
own concerns, he experienced a sense
of respite and relief. In the fashion-
able streets that bounded his own
horizon if a man pans inhis walk
to work out an idea e instantly
drew a crowd of inquisitive or con-
temptuous eyes; here, if a man halt-
cd for half an hour it was nobodfs
business but his own.
Enjoying this thought, he will»
tiered on for close upon an hour,
moving from one street to another
with steps that were listless or rap.
id, as inclination prompted; then.
still acting with vagrant aimlessness,
he stopped in th wanderings and
entered a small eating—house.
The place was low-celled and dirty.
the air hot and steaming with the
smcll of food, but Chilcote passed
through the door and moved to one
of the tables with no expression of
disgust. and with far less furtive
watchfuiucss than he used in his
own house. ‘.y a curious mental
twist he felt greater freedom, larger
opportunities in drab surroundings
such as those than in the broad isv
sues and weighty responsibilities of
his own life. Choosing a corner
scat, he called for coffee; and there,
protected by shadow and wrapped in
cigarette smoke, he set about imag-
ining himself some vagrant unit who
had slipped his moorings and was
blissfully adrift.
'l'he imagination was pleasant
while it lastcd, but with him nothing
was permanent. or late the greater
part of his sutfcrings had been com-
prised in the irritable fickleness ofA
all his aims—the distaste for and
impossibility of sustained effort in
any direction. lie-had barely lighted
a second cigarette when the old rest-
lessness fell upon him; be stirred
nervously in his seat, and the ciga-
l'ctit- was scnrccly burned out when
he rose, paid his small bill, and left
the shop,
Hillside on the pavement he halt-
ed, pulled out his watch, and law
that two hours stretched in front
be ore any appointment claimed his
ai ntlon. lie wondered vaguely
where he might go to—what he
might do in those two hours? In the
last few minlltcs a distaste for soil-
tude had risen in his mind. giving
the close street a loneliness that had
escaped him before. -
As he stood wavering a cab passed
slowly down the street. The sight
of a well'dresscd man roused the
cabman; flicking his whip, he passed
Chilcote close, feigning to pull up.
The 'cah suggested civilization.
t‘liilcotc‘s mind veered suddenly and
ho. raised his hand. The vehicle
stopped and he climbed in.
“Where, sir?" The cahman peered
down through the roof-door.
Chllcote raised his head. “Oh.
anywhere near Pall Mall," he said,
Then. as the horse started forward,
be put up his hand and shook the
trap-door. "Wait!" he called. "I've
changed my mind. Drive to Csdo-
gan Gardens—No. 33."
The distance to Cadogan Gardens
was covered quickly. Chllcote had
hardly realized that his destination
was reached when the cab pulled up.
Jumping out, he paid the fare and
walked quickly to the hall-door of
No. 33.
"Is Lady Astrupp at home?” he
asked, sharply, as the door-swung.
back in answer to his knock.
The servant drew back deferen—
tially. “Her ladyshlp has almost.
finished lunch, sir,” he said.
For answer Chiicote stepped
through the door-way and walked
half-way across the hall.
“All right." he said. "But don’t
disturb her on my account. I'll wait
in the white room till she has fin-
ished." And, without taking further
notice of the servant, he began to
mount the stairs.
1n the room where he had chosen
to wait a pleasant wood-fire bright.
ened the dull January afternoon and
softened the thick, white curtains,
the gilt furniture, and the Venetian
vases filled with white runes. Mov-
ing straight forward, Chllcote paus-
ed by. the grate and stretched his
hands to the blaze; then, with his
usual instability.. he- turned and
passed to a couch that steed a yard
or two away. -
On the couch, tucked, away be
tween a novel and a crystal gazing-
bali. was a. whit. Persian kitten.
fast asleep. Chiicote picked up the
ball and held it between his eyes
and the fire: then he laughed super-
cillousiy, tossed it back into its place.
and caught the kltten's tall. The
little animal stirred, stretched it-
self, and ~begnu to purr. It the
same moment the door of the room
opened.
Chilcote turned round. “I partic-
ularly said you were not to be dis-
turbed.” he began. "Have I merited
displeasure?” He spoke fast. with
the uneasy -tone that ‘so often m
run his words. . , .
Lady Ann-opp teak his-hand with
s rounding gesture and smiled. , -
“Never displeasure." she said,
This famous'uavul is
cut-tent First National
JOHN. on
JOHN LODER.
asked, after a moment.
I was quite forgotten."
across to the couch, picked up the
kitten.
sweet?" she added.
about the room.
which.”
and picked up the crystal ball.
~,.
' '!
y’i
mam-"ere.
mullARACTERS IN THE STORY
ILCOTE. member-,0! the House of Commons, is the first men
to hurry from his place when parliament sdjoums on a January night
that is marked by the blackout fog in years sad the news of border
risingsagainst the Persian government which are branded by
LAKELY, editor of St. George’s, as the index of a long-cherished Rus-
sian scheme, growing to s gradual maturity under the “drift" policy
bf the British government. Nervous and high strung, -Chllcote re»
fuses a cab and walks. In the dense fog he jostles s stranger.
indu in ood—nstured conversation.
I” g He is amazed to see that the other man id
to light his cigarette.
The!
Then Chilcote strikes mmsteh
the met counterpart of himself. They exchange cards,.the stranger’s
revealing. him to be
On the following morning Chilcote awakens depressed
and irritable. He is very disagreeable with his men-servant,
ALLSOPP. Left alone for a few minutes, Cbilcote obtains from 9. word-
robe : glass tube filled with tabloids. and, mixing some whisky, he
drops two of the tabloids into the glass and drains the contents. His
nervousness is apparently gone, but after breakfast his irritability re-
turns with the arrival of his secretary,
BLESSINGTON, who annoys him with political matter.
He tells Bies~
sington that he feels like “chucking it all."
. 3
server as faintly artificial. But what
man in Chilcoie‘s frame of mind has
time to be observant where women
are concerned? The manner of the
smile was very sweet and almost
caressing—and that sufficed.
“What have you been doing?" she
“I thought
She moved
and kissed it. “Isn't this
She looked very graceful as she
turned, holding the little animal up.
She was a woman of twenty-seven,
but she looked a girl. The outline of
her face was pure. the pale gold of
her hair almost ethereal, and her
tail, slight figure still suggested the
suppleness, the possibility of future
development. that belongs to youth.
She wore a lace-colored gown that
humanized with the room and with
the delicacy of her skin.
“Now sit down and rest—or walk
I sha‘n't mind
She nestled into the couch
“What is the toy for?" Ohllcote
looked at her from the mantel-piece,
against which he was resting.
had never defined the precise attrac-
tion that Lillian .Astrupp held for
him. Her shallowuess soothed him;
her inconsequent egotlsm helped him
to forget himself.‘ She never asked
him how he was, she never expected
impossibllltles. She let him come
and go and act .as be pleased, never
demanding reasons.“ Like the kitten.
she was charming and graceful and
easily amused: it was possible that.
also like the kitten. she could“ scratch
and be spiteful on occasion, but’thnt
did not weigh"wlth’ him:
times expressed a vague'envy
late Lord Astrupp; .but, even‘had
circumstances permitted; it is doubt-
ful whether he would have chosen to
be his successor. Lilliau_as (a friend
was delightful. but Lillian u a wife
would] have linen-s diner-eat consid-
eration. "
Ile
He scale-
of the
"What is, the toyvforl" he asked
again.
She'imked up slowly. .- “flow cruel
of you, Jacki". It is my ,veryllstest
hobbyfl. . .
It was part other attraction that
she was-never without sacrum. Each
new one was as fleeting ‘as the last,
but to each she brought the same de-
lightfully insincere enthusiasm, the
same picturesque devotion. Each
.was a pose, but shetposed so sweetly
that nobody lost patience.
“You mustn't laugh!“ she Mae.
ed. letting the kitten slip to the
ground.
gaineas each from
nating person—a professlbnaly and
I'm becoming quite an adept. Of
course I haven't been much‘beyond
the milky appearance yet, but the
milky appearance. is everything. you
know; the rest will come. I am try.
ing to persuade, Blanche to let fne
hive. n
'M. end “up , Ffor
“I've’hsd mans at live
001(th my in
e mos: feed--
their
“Goodby.” he said “take care of yourself.” , [Guy Bates
Post as Chilcote and Marcia Manon as Lady Astrupp.3
I
You sit at a table with the ball in
front of you; then you take the sub-
Jcctis hands. spread them out on the
table, and stroke them very softly
whileyou gene into the crystal: that
gets up the sympathy, you know."
She looked up innocently. "Shall I
show you?" .
Cbilcote moved a small table nea r-
er to the couch and spread his hands
llpnn it, palms downward. "Like
this, ehl" he said. Then a ridicu-
lous nervousness seizelf him and he
moved away. "Some other day,” he
said, quickly. “You can show me
some other day. I‘m not very fit this
afternoon." ‘
it Lillian felt any disappointment.
she showed none. "Poor old thingi"
she said, softly. "Try to sit here by
me and We won't bother about any-
thing.” She made s place for him
beside her. and as he dropped Into it
she took his hand and patted it sym-
pathetically.
The touch was soothing, and he
bore it patiently enough. After a
moment she lifted the mind with a
little exclamation of reproof.
"You degenerate person! You
have ceased to manicure. What has
become of my excellent training?"
Chilcote laughed. “Run to shed,"
he said, lightly. Then his expres-
sion and’tone changed. "When a
man gets to my age," he added, "lit-
tle social luxuries don‘t seem worth
while: the social necessities are in.
'some enough. Personally, I envy the
beggar in the street—exempt from
shaving, exempt from washing—'
Lillian raised her delicate eye-
brows. The sentiment was beyond
he perception.
"But manicuring,” she said, re-
proscbfully, "when you have, gueh
nicehands. It was your hands and
your eyes, you know, that firSt ap—
pealed to me." She sighed gully,
with .s‘tonch of sentimental remem-
brance.- “And I thought it so strong
of you notto‘wear rings—it must be
such a temptation.” She' looked
down at her Own fingers, glittering
with Jewels.
But the’ momentary spleasure of
her touch wesgono. Ohlioote drew
away his hand and picked up the
book that lay‘between them
‘tOther Men's Shoesi'f he read. "A
uoveL‘of course?” ,
She smiled. "Of course. Such a
fantastic story.‘ Two men changing
identities.”
,Calicote rose and walked back to
the mantel-piece.
“Changing identities?”
with a touch of interest.
“Yes. Onemmnsndrnsgth.
other a millionaire: one want. to
know what fame is like. the other
wants "to know how it feels to be
really sinfully ”5112b. . ‘So they ex-
ehfige experiences for a month,"
She laughed. » »
Ghncote lowed as well. “But
have? he asked. . ; ,. . ‘ ..
“out told you the idea was so.
sun-d.“ ‘ Fancy. tw. people so. much”
alike that . their friends no:
he slid,
nudism with, , mammmn :in _
hgohnmmrdmfion.6nyhzesro9tnnowoppeorlfi~
“No,” he said, doubtfuliy. “No. I
suppose not!
“Of course not. There-are like-
nesses, but not freak likenesses like
that." ‘ .
Chilcote's head was bent as she
spoke, but at the last words he lifted
it-
“By Jove! I don't know about
that i” be said. “Not so. very long
ago I saw two men so much alike
that I—I—” He stopped.
Lillian smiled. ,
He colored quickly.
me?" he asked. . ,, ._ 7
“My dear Jack l" Her voice was
delicately ‘reproachful,
“Then you think that my—my im-
agination has been' playing me
tricks?”
“My dear boy! Nothing of'the
kind. Come back to your place and
tell me the whole tale." She smiled
again, and patted the couch invit-
ingly. .s
But Chilcote's balance had been
upset. For the first time he saw
Lillian as one of the watchful, sus-
pecting crowd before which he was
constantly on guard. Acting on too
sensation, he moved suddenly to-
wards the door. ..
"I—-—I have an amintment at the
House," he said, quickly. “I‘ll look
in another day when—when I'm bet-
ter company. I know I‘m a bear to-
day. My nerves. you know." He
came back to the couch and took her
hand: then he touched her check for
an instant with his fingers.
"Good-bye," be said. “Take care
of yourself-find the kitten." he add-
ed, with forced gayety. as he crossed
the room. 1 '
“You doubt
That afternoon Chiicote's nervous
condition reached its height. All day
he had avoided tile climax, but no
evasion can be eternal. and this he
realized as he sat in his place on the
Opposition benches during the half-
llour o‘f wintry twilight that pre-
cedes the turning-on of the lights. He
realized it in that half-hour, but the
application of the knowledge fol-
lowed iater, when the time came for
him to question the government on
some point relating to a proposed
additional dr,v~dock at Talkley, the
naval base. Then for the first time
he knew that the sufferings of the
past months could have a visible as
well as a hidden side—could disor-
ganize his daily routine as they had
already demoralized his will and
character.
The thing came upon him with ex-
traordinary lack of preparation. He
sat through the twilightwith toler-
able. calm, his nervousness showing
only in the occasional lifting of his
hand to his collar and the frequent
the liglitswvore turned on. and
leaned back in his seat with closed
eyes. he became conscious of a curl—
ous impression-«a disturbing idea
that through his closed lids he could
the Ilo‘use. see the rows, of eyes,
sleepy, interested, or vigilant. Never
before had the sensation presented
itself. but, once set up, it ran through
all his susceptibilities. By an ab,-
surd freak of fancy those varying
eyes seemed to pierce through his
lids, almost through his eyeballs.
The cold perspiration that was his
daily horror bmke out on his fore-
head; find at the same moment
Prairie, his leader, turnedflenned
over the hack of his seat, and touch-
ed his knee.
Chilcote started and opened his
eyes. “Inf believe I was dozing,”
he said, confusediy.
Fraide smiled his dry. kindly
smile.‘ “A fatal admission for u_
member of the Opposition," he said.
“But I was looking for you earlier in
the day, Cililcote. There is some;
thing behind this Persian affair. I
believe it to be a mere first move on
Russia‘s part. You, big trading peo-
ple will find it worth watching.”
Chilcote shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh, I don‘t know." he Said. “I
scarcely believe in it. ~Lakely put a
match‘ to the powder in " the St
George's, but 'twill only b9 a noise
and a puff of smoke."
But Frame did not smile. "What
is the feeling down at Wark?” he
asked. “Has it Wakened any in-
terest?” . ' '
“At Wark? Oh, 1—! don’t quite
know. I~ have been a little out of
touch »wlth Wark as the last few
weeks. A man has. so many private
small-s to look to—J' He was uneasy
under his chief's scrutiny. j
Fraide‘s lips parted as if to make
reply, but with a certain dignified
reticence be closed them again and
turned away. , "
Chllcote leaned“back in his place
and furtively passed his hand over
his forehead. His mind. was put
sessed iby‘ one consideration—the
consideration .of imself. . He glanced
down the crowd “fitted House to
the big glass“doors; he glanced about
him, at his colleagues, indifferent or.
1
fingers strayed to his waistcoat?
rocket- , , ’ 4;
Usually he carried higmnorphis
tlhloldl With him. M! .N‘" by i,
law or memory he. had left thanat
home. 30 harms, ”Sever-alleles;
need of
with a sense
, stilt back just in' fnent of him held
changing of his position: h“, when i moved to the wardrobe. and. opening
he i
see the. faces on the opposite side of,
interested '. then surreptitiously his 4“
he continued to search, White. the
mo drugrushedLlhrqnsh “l! m
“Hold your ground. cahoots." he
said. “Bayfonh is drying up.
With a wave of relief Chile-me
dropped back into his place. What.
ever the confusion in his min
Rayforth med his seat, there
was the usual slight stir and phase,
then Salett. the membertor Sulches-
ter, rose. ‘ .
With Saiett's first words Ohilcote‘s
band again sought his pocket, and
again 1118 eyes strayed towards the
doors, but Frelde's erect head and
him quiet. With an eflert he pulled
out his notes and smoothed them
nervously: but though his gun was
fixed on the pages, not a line of Bies~
sington‘s clear writing reached his
mind. He glanced at the face of the
Speaker, then at the faces on the
Treasury Bench, then once more he
leaned back in his seat.
The man beside him saw the move-
ment. “Funklng the dry—dock?” be
whispered. Jestingly,
“No"—Chllcote turned to him sud-
denly-v"but I feel beastly—have felt
beastly for weeks.”
The other looked at him more
closely. “Anything wrong?” he ask;
ed? It was a novel experience to be
confided in by Chllcote.
“Oh, it's the grind—the infernal
grind." As he said it, it seemed to
him suddenly that his strength gave
way. He forgot his companion, his
position, everything except the urg-
ent instinct that filled mind and
body. Scarceiy knowing what he
did, he rose and leaned forward to
whisper in Fraide's ear.
Fraide was seen to turn. hi; this
face intereSted and concerned. then
he was seen to nod once or twice in
acquiescence, and a moment later
(‘hiicote stepped quietly out of his
place.
One or two men spoke to him as
he hurried from the House, but he
shook them off almost unciviily, and,
making far the nearest exit, hailed a
cab.
The drive to~ Grosvenor Square
was a misery. Time after time he
changed from one corner of the cab
file the other. his acute internal pains
Eprolonged by every delay snl in-
Tcreascd by every motion. At last,
weak in all his limbs, be scoped
from the vehicle at his own door.
Entering the house, be instantly
mounted the stairs and pulled to his
own rooms. Opening the bedroom
door. he peered in cautiously. then
pushed the door wide. The light had
been switched on, but the room was
empty. With a nervous excitement
smrcely to be kept in check, be en-
tered, shut and locked the door, then
it, drew the tube of tabloids from
the shelf.
His hand shook violently ashe car-
ried the tube to the table. The strain
of the day, the anxiety of the phst
lilOlli‘S, with their final failure, had
found sudden expression. Mixing in
larger dose than any he had before
allowed himself, he swallowed it
hastily. and, walking across the
upon the bed.
CHAPTER IV.
TO those whose sphere lies in the
west of London. Fleet Street is
'0 I
l
d. iti
was evidently not obvious in his face 1
room, threw himself, fully dressed,iTh°“’ ““5 a ““0""
imte 8 Ema” 8
Dd 9c .
fire Was bu A“: onmnicarl “kin:
Hlfl'iur - " ~
is erilen
be for ('3; s ..
tum he Pushed 1.3%. ,h' E ;" 1"”
Etched 1,5; “-5 ('irulr am}
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‘el'Dieceheliwm {“m‘irfn.’ A-ze xi "1
m ‘. “- was a . " W
De-l'ack and i 'l ' from fl.
jar th 5”“ N‘ ». v “‘3
f 3‘ Slisdbehind ' .fi‘i”; fl”,
ace looked “red an MKS. “5S
as is 00mm a i710 “urn
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at an “no .. 1‘”
Shredding Ihe mb‘dmongvnia‘. ih~i{.
hands, he slowly one; WV???“ his.
lighted it mm me he ‘3 been.“
of twisted paper. “m ‘ 59““
Aimnii at the mor
plied the list: up
mounting the tin;
side caught his alter...
ed his head to lisfen.
Presently the yep: im‘paa .
heard a match <7 ‘ -'" W l
was evidently unv
abouts. Then the s'c':
ward again and {Ia-used.
An expression of surrm:
Loder's face, and En .1
pipe. As the
walked quietly across 1‘
opened the door.
The passage n:i’<i1il" -
the new-comer drew i-.;- r; '
light from the room. I i - ‘
“Hr. Laden—'1" iit‘ inst?“
stiveiy. Then all
ed in embarrassed
give me," he said.
an: that m
"v .
tx‘.
{P
v1~imw
tl’t (
t.‘
'u
3
up
dazzled me. I didn't t.
was.” A
Loder recognized tim
longing to his [icq’duitfxie
fog.
“Oh, it’s you!“ he <:. i
you come in?" Ills v. .lt.- 1,
cold. This sudden revs-u».
him surprised—and lint 471"» -
antly surprised. lie wily; '. .
the fireplace. follow“: 'f
The guest seemed r.» ,
fated. “I must
3;,
70
£31invl”
hour of my visit," i_.- .2. -‘:
my time is not quite nty
Loder waved his has... ““Ln
time is his own?" he, .~...«i.’
Chilcote, encourage-l l-_\'
mark, drew nearer in ,3, i.“
ill this moment he l.;.'i '-’
from looking direu-:‘~ -~
now, however, -
and, despite his prey-um
coiled unavoidably innit”
traordinary resmublanrn,
in the casualsurrouzidi
furnished and crudely
it was even more listoui‘.-..
had been in the mysterv t." . -
“Forgive me," he said a
is physical—purely plush;
bowled over against my v .1“
Loder smiled. The fin." ' .
that Chiicote had iir< i:.~_
again. and with it a M, -
less easily defined. '1“: -
so unstable, 8:) inviifvtii
tesqueiy Sili:f.!(>sli‘.r i-
“The iikrnoss ‘
Ax
to sink under. t‘ome rim- '3' '.w "
What brought you here? l‘ir.
>>~ ..
the fireplace. Ile ill'i‘va'r-I :'
wave of the hon-l: lizrn ' ‘5‘:er
took up his stiioulvierfng pipe,
Chilcote. watt-hing him (”rosin
obeyed the ges'ure and say d
“It is extraordinaryf" n
.’ an
little more than a name, and Clif-
ford's Inn a mere dead letter. Yet
Clifford’s Inn lies as safely stowed
away in the shadow of the Law
as gray of stone, as lrrcsponsive to
the passing footstep.
Facing the railed—in grsswlot of
its little court stood the house in
which John Loder had his rooms.
Taken at a first glance, the house
had the deserted air of an office, in-
habited only in the early hours; but,
as night fell, lights would be seen to
show out. first on our floor, then on
another—faint, human beacons un-
consciously sigualiing each other.
The rooms Loder inhabited were on
the highest floor: and from their
windows one might gaze philosophic-
ally on the treetops, forgetting the
uneven pavement and the worn rail-
ing that hemmed them round. In the
landing outside the rooms his name
appeared above his door. but the
paint had been soiled by time, and
the letters for the most part re-
duced to shadows; so that, taken in
conjunction with the stunt staircase
andbare walls. thepises had a
cheerless look.
Inside, however, the street was
somewhat mitigated The room on
the righnhsnd. as one entered the
small passage that served as hell.
was of fair else. than“ low-celled.
The paint of the wall-panelling. like
the some show the outer door, had
long ago been worn to' a dirty and
suede-aim hue. and the door was
innocent of carpet; yet in the middle
i
well table. and on the Phi” deal
b k-shelves and that the mastoi-
9&8 were some valuable books—
no cur-tails! .
common ream with w
shade stood on (M R "w
lie, lost parliamentarian-meagre: as
Courts as any grave under a country edly obvious.‘
church wall: it is as green of grass. ed.
ironically. .
to one; and I think I have nlzme
wise selection.
of the room stands and old crom- _
The strong wave of satis
if unable to dismiss the s :hjet-t. “It
—lt is quite extraordinary 1"
The other glanced round. _
drop it," he said. "It's so copious:-
“lVon‘t you smoke?" he asked.
“Thanks." Chilcote began to fun:-
bie for his cigarettes.
But his host forestalled him. Tait-
ng_a box from the mantelq-che, he
held it out.
"Mv one extravagance I“ he said.
“My resources lxin‘l a:
It is about the on“;
vice we haven't to pay for six tyres
over." He glanced sharply at the
face so absurdly like his own~ than.
lighting a fresh spill, offered hs
guest at light-
/Chilcote moistened his offal-€115
and leaned forward. in the t r. m
the paper his face looked s: and
anxious, but LOder saw that the ‘.,IS
did not tfltch as they had don-3 all
the previous occasion that i: ind
given him a light, and a look m. cm
prehension crossed his eyes.
“What will you drink? (it: use:
will you have a whiskey"; l k;
nothing else. Hospitality :5 one
the debarred luxuries."
Gillcote shook his head.
dom drink. But don't let t
you."
Loder smiled. "I have one
in the twenty-four hours—2"”? wk
of two o’clock, when my nizi‘ s V‘-
II done. A solitary man has 1
where he is going."
“Ion work till two?"
‘TWo—or three.”
(inflecte's eyes wandered to m
M “You write?” he asked.
The other nodded curtly.
“Books?” Chilcote's tone W”
m
W laughed, and the b
of d-
‘22.’ dad
m“.
’13.
,, as
itter note
fluted in his voice. _
'No—not books.” he said. .
mm leaned back in his chair
‘3‘ W his hand across his face.
the words woke in him was diflicut
creamed.
“mam'orkf'
”unconfined.
lug," he said:“i-1:: r’ n.1- ; '
xii. l, I!
“Let's _
‘ Then his tone chanc- 5
J
l
faction that f
. ~.\-~.m ”1.
Norwalk Chronicler