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Show I THE LEGAL MIND By Newton A; Fmssle ? ' EENTONWOOD, during tho tliroo Bingularly happy years of his j married life, had loved Oliva B with the abandon that is only possible B where one trusts his mate implicitly. B Then little by little, it began dawn- B ing upon him that her whole attitude B toward him had become transformed. fl In a daze of bewildered concern, he B strove to analyze the change, to divine fl its cause. B Today, as his powerful enclosed car B bore him smoothly toward their new B home on the Heights, sombre thoughts fl t wove through his mind. The whole B wretched patch-work of the suspicions B j, passed in review before him. B "It's impossible!" he shuddered. B i Resolutely he endeavored to see her B as the same perfect, flawless creature ! she had been to him. Yet he was un cannily aware that something had be- come like a curtain between them. B ; Fentonwood was very weary. He B ji had spent tlie whole day in court, clos- B i ing an important case. It was the cele- B ( brated Gas Case, the most significant B franchise battle which had ever raged B in the local courts. In his summing B up for the corporation Fentwood had B today fought brilliantly. B He found Oliva seated dreaming in B the shadow of the casement in tho B dimly-lit living-room a slender en- B h chanting wisp of a woman in that twi- B J light hour. B1 . "My dear!" said Fentonwood, cross- B ' Ing to her side. "Did I startle you?" B I "No. I saw tlie car drive in," an- B I swered Olivia, rising. "You're late." B "Yes. I'm sorry. I talked longer B than I expected. I shall have, to finish B my summing-up tomorrow," he added. B I IFor a moment he stood regarding B 'j the pale beauty of her face. To him B it had always been the most perfect B i, of faces, each feature as flawless as Bj though it had been a thing of dreams. H 1 1 He bent over to kiss her. She B 'i evaded him. He tried again. B "Don't be so rough!" she exclaim- B i' ed, almoBt with a gasp. H . Fentonwood drew back. He stood B regarding his wife with a look of hurt B ' reproof, and wistfulness, and wonder. B "I beg your pardon, I'm sure," he B said, quietly. "If I've become so offen- B sive to you all of a sudden, of course B I shan't annoy you like this again." B "It isn't that, John" she began. B "Then exactly what is it?" H He looked at her steadfastly, con- B scious once more of a strange, new, H subtle, evasive nota in her gray eyes. B And at once the whole haunting herd B of suspicions, of uneasy speculations, B closed in upon him again. Hj "You'd better get ready for dinner, H, dear," she said. B "Very well," he returned, and went fl j to his room. Bi Fentonwood set about dressing for K dljin- - with a dull heaviness of spirit. H t' -, strain of the past few weeks, cul- K t minating in the intensity of his long Hi I j and important address today to the Hl 1 jury, bcid thrown him into an aggra- H! .1 vating state of nerves which Olivia's HR II ' conduct did nothing to relieve. On his mahogany dresser stood his favorite picturo of Oliva, a full-length panel in gray artistic as she herself, one of those vague, elusive tilings, keyed to meet and fuse with one's inner image of the person portrayed. He stood gazing at tho mouth, the eyes, tho slender hand, tho mist of hair. Then he turned quickly away. Until Un-til tomorrow's tasks in the court room were finished, he dared not think of Oliva nor dwell upon tho changed character of his relations with her. He dared not let himself go to pieces. Ho held his breath for a moment, as though to tighten the strap of will that bound his emotions together. Dinner was half over before Fentonwood Fenton-wood became aware of the spray of yellow roses in the center of the table. "Golden Gates!" he observed. "How did you happen to order them?" "Oh tho roses?" she replied, with an almost imperceptible start. "They're a gift. I meant to call your attention to them." "A gift? From whom?" ' "From Dr. Hewitt." "How does it come that Dr. Hewitt is sending us flowers?" inquired Fentonwood. Fen-tonwood. "For no particular, reason. Why shouldn't he?" "Why should he?" persisted Fentonwood. Fenton-wood. "Is there anything so singular for an old friend of ours to send flowers?" asked Olivia impatiently. "Rather unusual for Hewitt. Very decent of him though," added Fentonwood Fenton-wood lightly, aware of the flush on Olivia's face and of the willful flaring of her nostrils. Could it be Hewitt? It seemed impossible. im-possible. He was least in evidence at the house of any of their friends. A bachelor so thoroughly wrapped up in his work that his name had never been mentioned in Fentonwood's hearing hear-ing by even the most incorrigible and Imaginative pantalooned gossip at any of his clubs. "Absurd," he mused. Yet the face of tlie gray-haired, dignified, very professional pro-fessional physician kept floating before him in a mist of misgivings. Olivia questioned her husband per functorily about his day in court. The other answered indifferently. For all day ho had felt hurt and neglected because be-cause of his wife's failure to be present pres-ent at the scene of his big effort. At last he burst out: "My dear, why in heaven's name all this labored interest all of a sudden. You did not care enough to " "Oh, John," she interrupted, "I wanted want-ed to be there. You ought to know that. iMy thoughts were with you eyery second of the time " A short, biting laugh rang frostily from Fentonwood's lips. The telephone bell rang. Fentonwood Fenton-wood answered. "You've got the wrong number," he said crisply. On the telephone pad, he saw in Olivia's writing the notation: "A. H. Garfield 7698." He reached for the directory, began be-gan groping through the H's, found the Hewitts. His suspicions were" quickly verified. Dr. Hewitt's number corresponded with the number on the pad. A feeling of dispossession sawed roughly into his sensitive spirit. The discovery of the initials and number on the telephone pad gave jarring jar-ring support to the evidence already before the legal mind. As the evening wore on, ho found himself staring at his wife. In the delicate tracery of her features he now perceived for the first time elements of cunning, of treachery. Soon Olivia rose, obviously bored, excused herself and left the room, avoiding explanation with a cough. (Fentonwood boiled. Later, when he paused at Olivia's door to bid her good-night, she again avoided his lips and caught his kiss on her cheek. Fentonwood closed the door of his own room behind him, swung open the dim, snowy outlines of sleeping homes. The pride he had felt in his now home, set in its placid envions, was gone. The mess he had made of his marriage jeered at him, sickened him. To expect loyalty from a pretty-faced pretty-faced woman was to be a primitive, unsophisticated, sentimental ass. Then, to clear the machinery of his brain and nerves for the ordeal that awaited him tomorrow before the Jury, he threw tho window's wide open, let tlie rush of wintry air enter in tonic gallons, and crawled under his heavy blankets. There was a hard, glittering vehemence vehe-mence of Fentonwood's effort the" next day in court. His habitual vigor in action was today brilliantly brutal, and astounded even the men wh6 had depended the most confidently upon his ability to hammer the jury into a mood to convict. But little did it occur oc-cur to anybody in the thickly-peopled court room from what hidden springs flowed Fentonwood's hard and triumphant trium-phant eloquence. Five minutes after closing his ad- ' ' dress he was at the steering-wheel of his car, picking his way with skillful stealth through the thick gnarl of the street's afternoon traffic. The ruly obedience of the energetic engine impressed im-pressed him with a certain masculinity. mascu-linity. There was not a petulant note in its pick-up, not a whisper in the delivery of its stream of might to the rear wheels. .MIIIIIIIMllllllllllllllllllininiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiniiiiiic SCENE FROM THE MUSICAL COMEDY PANORAMA, "BON VOYAGE," NOW RUNNING AT PANTAOES j - Already the trial was out of his i mind. He was engrossed with an- , other matter' an impending interview. A ten-minute drive, and he disengaged disen-gaged his gears, threw in his brake and stepped out of his car in front of an uptown office building. The elevator ele-vator bore him up and up with silken flight. He handed Dr. Arthur Hewitt's reception clerk his card, dropped into a leather chair, and took a deep breath of air, filled with its subtle pungency of medicine. There was a Persian richness in the room's rugs and colorings. color-ings. His eyes kept returning vaguely vague-ly to a statue of the "Winged Victory" Vic-tory" which he could dimly see in a shadowy corner. "I'm glad to see you, Fentonwood," said Dr. Hewitt, gravely, fifteen min- ii utes later, extending a large, white, finely-shaped hand, which Fentonwood ignored. "I think you know what I'm here for," began the latter Incisively. "I have a pretty good idea. I presume pre-sume that Mrs. Fentonwood has told you." "She has told me nothing," answered answer-ed Olivia's husband. "You guessed it." "Yes," said Fentonwood dryly. "I have urged her repeatedly, and in the strongest terms to tell you," continued con-tinued the physician, crossing to the window with a tired step. "But Mrs. Fentonwood .was .particularly insistent that it be kept from you at least until you had completed your trial of this Gas Case." "I dare say," put in Fentonwood' with irony. "She wouldn't hear of it. I give you my word," said the physician, wheeling wheel-ing abrustly and facing the other. She insisted that we put it off insisted that It would upset you in your work." "She was far too considerate." "Every woman is. You know women." wo-men." "I used to thing I did. But what an idiot I've been!" answered the lawyer. law-yer. It was his first burst of bitterness. bitter-ness. Eyeing Hewitt he felt like tearing tear-ing him to pieces for his uncanny complaisance. "Don't feel too uneasy," continued Hewitt quietly. "This tiling is happening hap-pening right along. You'd be sur- prised " "Being a lawyer, nothing surprises me," interrupted Fentonwood. "Besides, "Be-sides, I happened to be fairly familiar with this particular disease. I find, however, that I have not been thoroughly thor-oughly .enough versed in its symptoms," symp-toms," he finished, shading his sentence sen-tence with a sneer. "The symptons, of course, are subtle," continued the doctor. Fentonwood gazed with involuntary admiration at the other's superb poise. "Hewitt," began Fentonwood pointedly, point-edly, "would you mind telling me how far this thing has gone?" "Pretty far," answered Hewitt without with-out an instant's hesitation. "It is moderately mod-erately advanced, I should say," he added thoughtfully. "Moderately advanced!" repeated 1 ' Fentonwood, staggered by Hewitt's 1 calm assurance. "Well, what do you 1 suggest," he rasped. 3j i "There's just one thing to do. You must send " r away. Six months possibly a yt a ought to get her back into shape, x'his thing isn't as bad as most people think. It can be cured." "You swine!" hissed Fentonwood. "Send her away! Do you think I'm not man enough to give her up. She hasn't kissed me in a month. She hates me, despises me. She wouldn't even look in on my trial. I tell you she's through with me. You've poisoned pois-oned her against me. And now, you've got the gall to tell me to send her away. No, you're going to take her!" Dr. Hewitt's face had grown whiter and whiter under the lash of Fenton-wood's Fenton-wood's attack. r "Calm yourself," he now said, quietly. quiet-ly. "You don't know what you're talking talk-ing about. You've got everything twisted. Your wife has refused to kiss you or sit. in a stuffy court-room, by order of her physician. Mrs. Fenton-wood's Fenton-wood's trouble is not of the heart, but of the lungs. It's not emotional; it's pulmonary. She has kept it from you because she loves you. Your wife has tuberculosis." Reedy's Mirror. |