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Show ILH IS WHITE kr GEORGE DARK ffCUTCHEON nlLU5TEATI0N5 KAY WALTERS I Afro oor7PAtr rsW J3 CHAPTER I. The Message From the Deep. The two old men sat In the library eyeing the unresponsive blue envelope r--- that lay on the end of the long table nearest the fireplace, where a merry but unnoticed bed of coals crackled fiercely In the vain effort to cry down tho shrieks of the bleak December wind that whistled about the corners of the house. There was something maddening In the fact that the envelope would have to remain unopened until young Frederick Fred-erick Brood came home for the night. They found themselves wondering If by any chance he would fail to come In at all. Their hour for retiring was ten o'clock, day In, day out. Up to half-past nine they discussed the blue envelope with every inmate of the house, from Mrs. John Desmond, Des-mond, the housekeeper, down to tho voiceless but eloquent decanter of port that stood between them, first on tho arm of one chair, then the other. They were very old men; they could soliloquize solilo-quize without in the least disturbing each other. An observer would say, during these periods of abstraction, t ... that their remarks were addressed to "- the decanter and that the poor decanter decan-ter had something to say in return. But, for all that, their eyes seldom left tho broad, blue envelope that had lain there 6ince half-past eight. They knew that it came directly or Indirectly from the man to whom they . owed their present condition of com- foil and security after half a century of vicissitudes; from the man whose life they had saved more than once in those old, evil days when comforts were so few that they passed without recognition In the maelstrom of events. From midocean James Brood was speaking to his son. Twenty years ago these two old cronies cro-nies had met James Brood in one of the blackest holes of Calcutta, a derelict dere-lict being swept to perdition with tho swiftness and svreness of a tide that knows no pause. They found him when the dregs were at his lips, and the stupor of defeat in his brain. Without meaning to be considered Samaritans, good or bad, they dragged him from Hie depths and found that ' " ; they had r,iivlwl - umtfTTb-oca- ' Hhe lay -jann'S,' Prood's life meant nothing to him, days when he was tortured by the thought that it would be all loo lonj: for him to endure, en-dure, yet he was not the kind to murder mur-der himself as men do who lack the courage to go on liviag. Weeks after the rescue In Calcutta these two soldiers of fortune and another, an-other, John Desmond, learned from the lips of the man himself that he was not such as they, but rich in this world's goods, rlchei than the Solo mon of their discreet imagination. What Brood told them of his life brought the grfra siuile of appreciation to the Hps of f-arh. lie hud married a beautiful foreigner an Austrian, they gathered of excelleni family; and had taken her to his home in New York til, to the house In lower Fifth avenue ave-nue where his father and grandfather Jiad lived before hlrn the house in which two of the wayfarers after twenty years, now sat In rueful con-. con-. tcmplation of a blue envelope. A baby boy came to the Broods In the second year of their wedded life, but before that there had come a mau a inuKic master, dreamy-eyed, handsome, Latin; a man who played jippji the harp as only tho angels may jIay. lu 'his delirioud' ra fiigj Brood - - ftiirsed this man and the wife he had stolen away from him; he reviled the l)(ihy boy, even denying him; he jauiic-(l wi(l hioufl-cnrilHflK glee over r I tie mnmirr in which he had cast out the woman who had broken his heart t and crushed his pride; he walled In ' anguish over the mistake he had made 1 In allowing the man to live that he jult-ht t'loiit and sneer in triumph. This U- " jiiucli The three men wio lifted, him from iK'll were able to rIohu from Hps lliat knew not what they said, and -S they were filled with pity. Later on. , In o rational weakness, he tcld them jiiiivh, and without curae. a deep. I ... - ftMypt. steadfast ' billeriic-bs succeeded jj the violent ravings. He became a way farer with them, quiet, dogged, fatal: where they went he also went; what t they did. also did he, Soon he led, and V (jty followed. Intq the' 'dark places . Ji the world they 'plunged. ' for peril meant little to him, death' even less . . They no longer knew days of priva tlon he shared h)s wealth with thorn; ' , hut thf knew tip rest, no peace, no nai'ety. Life had been' a whirlwind be- 2 tove they came upon James Brood; it "was a hurricane afterward- I 'I'wirn John Desmond, younger than i Danbury Dawes and Joseph Ulggs, j saved lbs life of James brood, by I iicls of unparalleled heroism; onco in J p South African Jungle when a lian- puB fought for her young, and again in pprr India, when .single-handed, he held off a horde of Hindus for days while his comrade lay wound-, wound-, cd In a cavern. Dawes and Itlgga, in the Himalayas, crept down the wall of a precipice, v. 1th five thou-pond thou-pond feet between thorn and the; I bottom of the gorge, to drag him from a narrow ledge upon which he lay unconscious un-conscious after a misstep In the night. More than once aye, more than a dozen times one or the other of these loyal friends stood between him and death, and times without numbers he, too, turned tha grim reaper aside for them. John Desmond, gay, handsome and still young as men of his kind go, met the fate that brooks no intervention. "Ho was the first to rop out of the ranks. In Cairo, during a curious period pe-riod of inactivity some ten months after the advent of James Brood, he met the woman who conquered his venturesome ven-turesome spirit a slim, calm, pretty English governess in the employ of a British admiral's family. They were married inside of six months. Ho took her home to the little Maryland town that had not seen him in years. Ten years passed before James Brood put his fool on the soil of his native land. Then he came back to the home of his fathers, to the hom6 that had been desecrated, and with him came the two old men who now sat In his huge library before the crackling fire. He could go on with Jife, but they were no longer fit for Its cruel hardships. His home became theirs. They were to die there when the time came. Brood's son was fifteen years of apt before he knew, even by sight, the man whom he called father. Up to the time of the death of his mother, Jn the home of her fathers, ho had been kept in seclusion. There had been deliberate purpose In the methods of James Brood in so far a3 this unhappy child was concerned. con-cerned. When he cast out the mother he set his hand heavily upon her future. fu-ture. Fearing even feeling the Infernal In-fernal certainty that this child was not his own, he planned with machiavellian instinct to hurt her to the limit of'his powers and to the end of her da'3. He knew she would hunger for this baby boy of herB, that her heart cou.'d be broken through him, that her pu.i-Jshment pu.i-Jshment could .be made fulj and complete. com-plete. He sequestered the child in j place where he could not be found, and went his own way, grliJy certain that be was radian k bcr pay! Shu ! tfted V-ftd Frederic was c!Kityer.T6' aaf Wlthorut having seen him again after that pro The Patient Butler, Jones, Had Made Four Visits to the Library, ing her Innocence, she had been turned out into the night and toJ to go whither febg iiuld bat VW'it" turn to the 'house she had disgraced. Janios Brood heard of her death when in the heart of China, and he was a haggard wreck for months thereafter. He had worshiped this beautiful YJenrerg. H yVMlO "tot wreak vengtihee iipou a dead Woman: he could not hate a dead woman, He had always loved her. A few years after his return to New ynrk brought her 0? back to t? house in lower Fifth avenue and tried, with bitterness in his soul, to endure the word "father" as it fell from lips c which the term was alntotft btrango. ThO C11 men, they who sat b,y the fire ou this wind-swept night and waited-foj-' the youth of twenty-twfl whom the' blue missive addressed., knew tlf story of James Brood and his wife Ma'tllde and they knew that tho former had no lovo in, hja uh for the ypyth who boro his name. Their Hps were sealed. Garrulous on all oilier subjects, tbey were gl',cn( as the grave on this. Tly, too, were, constrained o hate tho lad. Ha made not the slightest pretense of appreciating appreciat-ing their position in the h,0V.i;eho-4s to him they were pensioners, n0 more, no less; to him their deeds of vulor were offset by the deeds of his fatter; there was nothing left over for a balance bal-ance on that score. He was politely considerate; he was even kindly disposed dis-posed toward their vagaries and whims; he endured them becajso there was nothing else left for him to do. But, for all that, he despired them justifiably so. no doubt, If one bears In mind the fact that they signified signi-fied more to James Brood than did his long neglected son. The cold reserve that extended to the young man did not carry beyond him in relation to any other member of the household so far as James Brood was concerned The unhappy boy, early In their acquaintance, came to realize that there was little In common com-mon between him and the man he called father. After a while the eager light died out of his own eyes and he no longer strove to encourage the intimate in-timate relations he bad counted upon as a part of the recompense for so many years of separation and loneliness. loneli-ness. It required but little effort on his part to meet his father's indifference indiffer-ence with a coldness quite as pronounced; pro-nounced; ho had never known the meaning of filial love; ho had been taught by word of mouth to love the man he had never seen, and ho had teamed as one learns astronomy by calculation. He hated the two old men because his father loved them. The patient butler, Jones, had made no less than four visits to the library since ten o'clock to awaken them and pack them off to bed. ICach time he had been ordered away, once with the Joint admonition to 'mind his own business." "But It Is nearly midnight," protested pro-tested Jones irritably, with a glance tit the almost empty decanter. "Jones," said Danbury Dawes, witn great dignity and an eye that deceived de-ceived him to such a degree that he could not for the life of him finder-stand finder-stand why Jones was attending them in pairs. "Jones, you ought to be in hie bed, d n you both of you. Wha' you mean, sir, by coming in hlc here thish time o night dis-disturb-ing " ''You Infernal Ingrate,'' broke In Mr Itlggs fiercely, "don't you dare to touch that bottle, sir. Let it alone!-' "It's time you were In bed,' pronounced pro-nounced Jones, taking Mr. Dawes by the arm. Mr. Dawes sagged neavily iri his chair and grinned triumphantly. He was a short, very fat old man. "Take him to bed, Jones,' said Mr. Rlggs firmly. "He's drunk and and utterly useless at a lime like this. Take him along." "Who the dev hlc 11 are you, Blr? ' demanded Mr. Dawes, regarding Mr Rlggs as If ho had never rccr him before. "You arc both drunk," said Jones, succinctly. The heavy front door closed with a bang at that Instant and the sound of footsteps came from the hall a quick, firm tread that had decision in It. .Toms cnBt.ti tarlivMMon - ' "over'hls'shoiildvr. "I'm sorry to have Mr. Frederic see you like this." be said, biting his lip. 'He hates It so." The two old men made a commendable commend-able effort to stand erect, but no effort ef-fort to stand alone. They linked arms and stood shoulder to shoulder. "Show him in," said Mr. Itiggs, magnificently. mag-nificently. "Now we'll find out wass In telegram tele-gram off briny deep,", said Mr. Dawes, spraddling his legs a little farther apart In order to declare a stanch front. "It's worth waiting up Tor," said Mr. Rlggs. "Abs'lutely," said his staunch friend. Frederic Brood appeared in tho door, stopping short just Iftsido the heavy curtains. There was a momentary momen-tary iieiure, such as a stago director would have arranged. He was still wearing his silk hat and tup-coat, and one glove had been halted in the process of removal. Young Brood stared at the group of three, a rrank stare of amazement. A crooked smile came to his lips. "Somewhat later than usual, I see." he said, and the glove came off with, a Jerk. "What's the master, Jones? lie-bcHipflP lie-bcHipflP ' ' !No, sir. It's the wireless, sir." "Wireless?" "Briny docp," eald Mr. Dawes, vaguely pointing. "Oh," said young Brood, crossing slowly to the table. He picked up the envelope and looked at the Inscription. Inscrip-tion. "Oh," said he again, in quite a different tono on seein; tli v ie Vaa addjpsa' to him. "From fiither, I dare say," he went on, a line line appearing ap-pearing between his eyebrows. The old men leaned forward, fixlug their blear eyes upon tho missive. "Le'B hear tho wors, VivKHt?i''ix& fhe )-ouug man ran his finger undor , tie flap and deliberately drew out li message. There ensued, wvoiHer picture. pic-ture. Ag o yvud his eyes widened md. then contracted; his tlrm youuu jaw became set and rigid. Swjdoiily 4 short, bitter execrr,tiu refl from lils lips and. tJiO paper crumpled In his baud.. Without another word, he Strode to the fireplace and tnsod it upon' the coals. It flayed Tor a second sec-ond an3 Wu wafted up the chimney, a charred, feathery thing. Without deigning to notca the two old men who h.yj, uai, up hair the night tq learn the contents of that wonderful thing from the sea, he whirled oa bta heel and left the roon. One might have noticed that his lips were drawn In u mirthless, sardonic smile, and that his eyes were angry, i "Oh, Lordyl" bighed Danbury Dawea, blinking, and wub on the point of sitting down abruptly. The arm of Jones prevented. "I never was so insulted In my " began Joseph Rlgga, feebly. "Steady, gentlemen," said Jonea, "Lfiaa on me, please," p CHAPTER II. Various-1 Ways of Receiving a Blow. Jame3 Brood's home was a remark-abb remark-abb one. That portion of tho house which rightly may be described as "public"' In order to distinguish it from other parts whero privacy was enforced, was not unlike any of tho richly rurnished, old fashioned places in the lower part of the city, where there are still traces left of the Knickerbockers Knick-erbockers and their times. This was ,not the home of men who had been merely rich; it was not wealth alone that-stoqi behind these stately investments. invest-ments. ! At the lop of the house were the rooms which no one entered except by the gracious will of the master. Here James Brood had stored the quaint, .priceless treasures of his own peculiar fancy exquisite, curious things from the mystic Fast, things that are not ,to bo bought and sold but come only to the hand of him who searches in lands where peril is the price. Worlds separated the upper and (lower regions of that fine old house; ,a single tcp took one from the sedate 'Occident into the very heart of the Orient; a narrow threshold was the line between the rugged West and the soft, languorous, reductive East. In this part of the house, James Brood, when at home for nne of his brief stays, spent many of his hours in seclusion, se-clusion, shut off from the rest of the establishment as completely as if he were the inhabitant of another world Attended by his Hindu servant, a silent, man named Ratijab, and on 'occasions 'oc-casions by his secretary t be saw but little of the remaining members of his rather extensive household. For several years he had been engaged In the task of writing hig memoirs so called in so far a they related to his experiences and researches of the past twenty years. Ills secretary and amanuensis was Lydia Desmond, the nineteen-year-old daughter of his one-time companion and friend, the late John Dernond, whose death occurred when tho girl was barely ten years of age. Brood, on hearing of the man's death, immediately made inquiries concerning con-cerning the condition In which ho hnd left his wife and child, with the result that Mrs. Desmond was installed as housekeeper in the New York house and the daughter given every advantage advan-tage in the way of education. Desmond Des-mond had left nothing in the shape of riches except undiminished love for his wife and a diary kept during those perilous days before he met and married mar-ried her. This diary was being incorporated incor-porated in the history of James Brood's adventures, by consent of the widow, ft 1 1 -J was to speak for Brood !n wordi he could not with modesty utter for I:ef. In. these pages John Dr-smoadg'v'o t'-ll Ills own story. In friend ua;,irof.ii enough even to ad mit of tba: ;.?e was to share his lifo in retro: jn. 'ct with Desmond ajul the two old nyn nr. he had shared it with tiicm in reality. Lydia's room, adjoining her mother's, moth-er's, was on the third floor at tho foot of the small stairway leading up to the prescribed rctrut at the top of the houpo. There was a small sitting-room sitting-room off t!ie two bed chambers, given over entirely to Mrs. Desmond and her daughter. In tills little room, Frederic Brood tpen many a quiet, happy hour. The Desmonds, mother and daughter, understood and pitied the lonely boy who caine to the big hou30 poon after they were ' themselves installed. His heart, flinch had many sores, expanded expand-ed and glowed in the warmth of their ; kindness and affection; the plaguo of unfrii'hultuess that was hi.3 by absorption absorp-tion gave way before thl unexpected kindness, not immediately, it is true, but completely In the end. By nature, he was slow to respond to the advances or others; his lire had been such that avarice accounted for all that he rec.-ived from other in the shapn f( verpect and consideration. Ho was p'oiio to discount a friendly attitude for the simple reason that in his experience all friendships were marred by tho fact that their sincerity rested entirely upon the generosity of the man who paid for them his father. fa-ther. No r.ne had loved him for himself; him-self; no one had given him an unselfish unself-ish thought in all the years of his boyboodj. At hrst he. held himself aloof from the Desmonds; be was slow to surrender sur-render suspected them of tho same motives that -had ber-i liiw basils of all previous '."c-iiuieiits. When at lat l,y iviiliyd that they were not liKo the others, his cup of joy, lor-.x an empty vessel, was filled, , ihc brim and his liappin;s5 t without bounds. Tiiry -,xr,c aiiUixed by the transformation. transforma-tion. The rather sullen, unapproachable unapproach-able lad becapjp ni once so friendly, so dependent, fnat had they not been acquainted with the causen behind the old state of ' reticence, hl very joy might hav nwte n nuisance of him. He followed Mrs. Desmond about in very much the 'same spirit that Inspires In-spires a ha.igry dog: ho watched her with eager, hulf-rarnlshcd eyes; he w?5 on her heels Tour-firths of the time. As Tor Lydia, pretty little Ldia. he 8rUvctl her. U'3 heart began be-gan fciy the flcst time to sins with me joy of youth, and the sensation was a novel ono. It had seemed to Tilin that he could never be anything but an old man. ; It was his custom, on coming homo for the night, no matter what the hour may have been, to pause before Lydia Lyd-ia s door on th way to his own room jat tho othjr end of the long hall. Usually, however, he was at home long before her bedtime, ad they spent the evenings together. That she was hU father's secretary was ol no moment. To him stto was Lydiahls Lydla. For the past three monthrj or more he had been privileged to hold her closo in his arms and to kiss her grod-night grod-night at parting! They were lovers now. The slow fuse of passion had reached Its end and the flame vrz? alive and shining -with -v radiance that enveloped both of them. On this night, however, he passed her door without knocking. His dark, handsome face was flushed, and his teeth were set in sullen anger. With his hand on the knob of his own door, he suddenly remembered that he had failed Lydia lor the first time, and stopped. A pang ot shame shot through him. For a moment he hesl tated and then started guiltily toward the lorgotten door. Even as he raised his hand to sound ti e loving signal, the door was opened and Lydla, fully dressed, confronted him. For a moment mo-ment they regarded each other in silence, she intently, be with astonishment astonish-ment not quite free from confusion, j "I'm I'm Eorry, dearest " he began, be-gan, his first desiro Leing to account for his oversight. "Tell me what has happened? It can't be that your father is ill or In danger. You are atiRry, Frederic; so it can't bo that. What is it?" lie looked away sullenly, ''Oh, it's really nothing, I suppose. Just an unexpected un-expected jolt, that's all. I was angry for u moment " "You are still angry," she said, laying lay-ing her hand on bis arm. She was a II III IP v: 'I l jr ' "Tell iko What Hat Hipp.rtod."- tall, slcnier girl. Her "eyes" "were almost oh, a level with his own. "Don't you want to tell me. dear?"" "lie never gives mo a thought," he said, compressing his lips. "He thinks of no ono but himself. God, what a father!" "Freddy, dear! You must not speak " "Haven't I some claim to his consideration? con-sideration? Is it fair that I should be ignored In everything, in every way? I won't put up with it, Lydia! I'm not a child. I'm a man and I am his son. Gad. 1 might as well be a dog in the street for all the thought he gives to me," She put her finger to her Hps, a ; scared look stealing into her dark eyes. Jones was conducting the two old men to their room on the floor below. A door closed softly. The voices died away. "He is a strange man." she said. "He is a good man, Frederic." "To everyone else, ycs. But to me1 Why, Lydia, I I believe he hates me. You kuow what " "Hush! A man docs not hate his son I've tried for years to drivo thai silly notion out of your mind. You '' "Oh, I know I'm a fool to speak ol it, but I I can't help feeling: as I do. You've seen enough to know that I'm not to blame for it either. What dc you think ho has done? Can you yuysu what he has done to all of us?" She did not answer. "Well, I'll tell you just what he said In that wireless. It was from the Lusitania, twelve hundred hun-dred miles off Sp.iuiy Hook relayed, 1 suppose, frc that tho whole world m.uht know sent at four Ihla afternoon, after-noon, 1 remember ecry word of the cursed thinjj. although I merely glance tit it. 'Send tho car to meet ins. Brood and mo at the Cunard pier Thursdayv Have Mrs. Desmond put the, bowse in order for its new mistress, mis-tress, liy Iho way, you might inform her that I was married last Wednesday Wednes-day in Paris.' It was signed 'James Brood. not even 'father.' What do you think of that for a thunderbolt?" "Married?" she gasped. "Your father fa-ther married?" ""Put the house in order for its new mistress.'" he almost snarled. "That message was a deliberate insult to me, Lydla a nasty, rotten slap In the face. I mean tho way it was worded. Just as if It wasn't enough that he has gone and married some cheap show girl or a miserable foreigner or heaven knows " "Freddy! You are beside yourself. Your father would not marry a cheap show girl. You know that. And you must not forget that your mother waa a foreigner." His eyes fell. "I'm Borry I said that," he exclaimed, hoarsely. Lydia. leaning rather heavily against the door, spoke to him in a low, cautious voice. "Did you tell Mr. Dawes and Mr. RISES?" -- He stopped short. "No! And they waited up to see If they could be of any assistance to him in an hour ot Peril! What a joke I Poor old beggars! beg-gars! I've never felt sorry for them before, but, on my soul, I do now. What will she do to the poor old chaps? I shudder to think of it And she'll make short work of everything else she doesn't like around here, too. Your mother, Lydla why, God help tis, you know what will just have to happen In her case. It's " "Don't speak so loudly, dear please, please 1 She Is asleep. Of course, we we shan't stay on, Freddy. Well have to go as soon as" His eyes filled with, tears. He seized her In his arms and held her close. "It's a beastly, beastly shame, darling. Oh, Lord, what a fool a man can make of himself!" "You must not say such things," she rurmured, stroking his cheek with cold, trembling fingers. "But why couldn't he have done the fine, sensible thing, Lydia? Why couldn't he have have fallen In love with with your mother? Why not have married her if he had to marry someone in " "Freddy!" she cried, putting her 'hand over his mouth. She kissed 1ilm swiftly. Her cheek lay for a second against his own and then, with a stifled good-night, she broke away from him. An Instant later she was gone; her door waa closed. Tho next morning he came down 6arlier than was his custom. His night had been a troubled one. For-getting For-getting his own woes or belittling them he had thought only of what this news from the sea would mean to the dear woman he loved so well. No one was In the library, but a huge fire was blazing. A blizzard was raging rag-ing out-of-doors. Once upon a time, when" he first came. to the house, a piano had stood in the drawing-room. Ills Joy at that time knew no bounds; ho loSdjnjjjBj.For his years he wx?, - rio'mean inuslclamffv'-UM evening his father, coming In unexpectedly heard the player at tho Instrument For a moment he stood transfixed in the doorway watching the eager, almost al-most inspired face of the lad, and then, pale as a ghost; stole away without with-out disturbing him. Strange to say, Frederic was playing a dreamy walta of Ziehrer's, a waltz that his mother had played when the honeymoon was in the full. The following day tho piano was taken away by a storage company. The boy never knew why it was removed. He picked . up the morning paper. His eyes traversed the front page rapidly. rap-idly. There were reportB of fearful weather at sea. The Lusitania was reported. seven hundred miles out and in the heart of the hurricane. She would-fre a. day late. ; Tie KKP tip TTom tne paper. Mrs.' DeamojiWy" doming toward him, queer ntOeTSile on her Hps.y She was a tall, fair woman, an English type, and still extremely handsome. Hers was an honest beauty that had no fear of age. "She is a stanch ship, Frederic," she said, without any other form of greeting. greet-ing. "She will be late but there's really nothing to worry about." "I'm not worrying," hi Bald confusedly. con-fusedly. "Lydla has told you the the news?" "Yes." "Rather staggering, Isn't It?" he said with a wry smile. In spite of himself he watched her face with curious ln-tentnesB. ln-tentnesB. "Rather," she said briefly. "I suppose you don't approve of the way I " j "I know Just how you feel, poor f boy. Don't try to explain. I know." "You always ; understand," he said, s lowering his eyes. "Not always" she said quietly. A "Well, it's going to play hob witr everything." he said, Jamming hands deep into hispjjeJ"' shoulders seemed tr"" and to contract. y I am especially sort and Mr. Rlggs," she sltw was steady and full of earh. "Do they know?" "They were up and about ath break, poor souls. Do you knowN Freddy, they were starting off In this blizzard when I met them in the hall!" "The deuce! I I hope it wasn't on account of anything I may have said to them last night," ho cried. In genuine genu-ine contrition. She smiled. "No. They had their own theory about the message. The storm strengthened It. They were positive that your father was in great ' peril. They were determined to charter char-ter a vessel of some sort and start off in all this blizzard to search the sea for Mr. Brood. Oh, aren't they won-derfuir won-derfuir , (To be continued.) L |