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Show What Was the Good of Regrets? He thought he had heard a woman's voice a voice he knew. Perhaps that was only a dream. He must have been asleep some time, because the lights were out and, seemingly, everybody every-body had gone to bed. He wondered what the noise which started him could have been. Suddenly he heard a groan. He listened intently, but all was still. The silence was uncanny. Now thoroughly frightened, Howard How-ard cautiously groped his way about, trying to find the electric button. He had no idea what time it was. It must be very late. What an ass he was to drink so much! He wondered what Annie would say when he didn't return. He was a hound to let her sit up and worry like that. Well, this would be a lesson to him it was the last time he'd ever touch a drop. Of course, he had promised her the same thing a hundred times before, but this time he meant it. His drinking was always getting him into some fool scrape or other. He was gradually working his way along the room, when suddenly he stumbled over something on the floor. It was a man lying prostrate. Stooping, Stoop-ing, he recognized the figure. "Why it's Underwood!" he exclaimed. ex-claimed. At first he believed his classmate was asleep, yet considered it strange that he should have selected so uncomfortable un-comfortable a place. Then it occurred to him that he might be ill. Shaking him by the shoulder, he cried: "Hey, "Underwood, what's the matter?" mat-ter?" No response came from the prostrate pros-trate figure. Howard stooped lower, to see better, and accidentally j.ouch-j j.ouch-j ing Underwood's face, found it clammy clam-my and wet.' He held his hand up in the moonlight and saw that it was covered with blood. Horror-stricken, he cried: down the first staircase when he heard shouts behind him. "Murder! Stop thief. Stop that man! Stop that man!" There was a rush of feet and hum of voices, which made Howard run all the faster. He leaped down four steps at a time in his anxiety to get away. But it was no easy matter descending de-scending so many flights of stairs. It took him several minutes to reach the main floor. By this time the whole hotel was aroused. Telephone calls had quickly quick-ly warned the attendants, who had promptly sent for the police. By the time Howard reached the main entrance en-trance he was Intercepted by a mob too numerous to resist. Things certainly looked black for him. As he sat, white and trembling, under guard in a corner of the entrance en-trance hall, waiting for the arrival of the police, the valet breathlessly gave the sensational particulars to the rapidly rap-idly growing crowd of curious onlookers. on-lookers. He had taken his usual Sunday Sun-day out and on returning home at midnight, as was his custom, he had let himself in with his latchkey. To his astonishment he had found this man, the prisoner, about to leave the premises. His manner and remarks were so peculiar that they at once aroused his suspicion. He hurried into the apartment and found his master lying dead on the floor in a pool of blood. In his hurry the assassin had dropped his revolver, which was lying near the corpse. As far as he could see, nothing had been taken from the apartment. Evidently the man was disturbed at his work and, when suddenly sud-denly surprised, had made the bluff that he was calling on Mr. Underwood. Under-wood. They had got the right man, that was certain. He was caught red-handed, red-handed, and in proof of what he said, the valet pointed to Howard's right hand which was still covered with a JJ'iy ETipQTrA norm! c:ilARS KLEIN Y y ILLUSTRATIONS BY RAY MALTER$ COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY C.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY ( "My God! He's bleeding he's hurt!' What had happened? An accident or worse? Quickly he felt the man's pulse. It had ceased to beat. Underwood Under-wood was dead. For a moment Howard was too much overcome by his discovery to know what to think or do. What dreadful tragedy could have happened? hap-pened? Carefully groping along the mantelpiece, he at last found the electric elec-tric button and turned on the light. There, stretched out on the floor, lay Underwood, with a bullet hole in his left temple, from which blood had flowed freely down on his full-dress shirt. It was a ghastly sight. The man's white, set face, covered with a crimson stream, made a repulsive spectacle. On the floor near the body was a highly polished revolver, still smoking. Howard's first supposition was that burglars had entered the place and that Underwood had been killed while defending his property. He remembered remem-bered now that in his drunken sleep he had heard voices In angry altercation. alterca-tion. Yet why hadn't he called for assistance? Perhaps he had and he hadn't heard him. He looked at the clock, and was surprised to find it was not yet midnight. mid-night. He believed It was at least five o'clock in the morning. It was evident that Underwood had never gone to bed. The shooting had occurred oc-curred either while the angry dispute was going on or after the unknown visitor had departed. The barrel of the revolver was still warm, showing that it could only have been discharged dis-charged a few moments before. Suddenly Sud-denly it flashed upon him that Underwood Under-wood might have committed suicide. But it was uselessto stand there theorizing. Something must be done. He must alarm the hotel people or call the police. He felt himself turn hot and cold by turn as he realized the serious predicament in which he himself was placed. If he aroused the hotel people they would find him here alone with a dead man. Suspicion Suspi-cion would at once be dir-!ted at him, and it might be very difficult for him to establish his innocence. Who would believe that he could have fallen blood. "How terrible!" exclaimed a woman bystander, averting her face. "So young, too!" "It's all a mistake, I tell you. It's all a mistake," cried Howard, almosl panic-stricken. "I'm a friend of Mr Underwood's." "Nice friend!" sneered an onlooker. "Tell that to the police," laughed another. "Or to the marines!" cried a third "It's the chair for his'n!" opined s fourth. By this time the main entrance hal! was crowded with people, tenants and passersby attracted by the un wonted commotion. A scandal in hlgb life is always caviare to the sensation sensa-tion seeker. Everybody excitedly in quired of his neighbor: "What is it? What's the matter?" Presently the rattle of wheels waa heard and a heavy vehicle driven furl ously, drew up at the sidewalk with a jerk. It was the police patrol wagon, and in it were the captain oi the precinct and a half dozen police men and detectives. The crowd pushed forward to get a better view of the burly representatives of the law as, full of authority, they elbowed their way unceremoniously through the throng. Pointing to the leader, a big man in plain clothes, with a square, determined jaw and a bulldog face, they whispered one to another: "That's Capt. Clinton, chief of the precinct. He's a terror. It'll go hard with any prisoner he gets in his clutches!" Followed by his uniformed myr midons, the police official pushed his way to the corner where sat Howard dazed and trembling, and still guard ed by the valet and elevator boys. "What's the matter here?" demand ed the captain gruffly, and looking from Ferris to the white-faced How ard. The valet eagerly told his story: "I came home at midnight, sir, and found my master, Mr. Robert Underwood, Under-wood, lying dead in the apartment, shot through the head." Pointing tc Howard, he added: "This man was in the apartment trying to get away You see his hand is still covered with blood." a SYNOPSIS. . Howard Jeffries, banker's son, under the evil inlluence of Robert Underwood, a fellow-student at Yale, leads a life of dissipation, marries the daughter of a gambler who died in prison, and Is disowned dis-owned by his father. He tries to get work and falls. A former college chum makes a business proposition to Howard which requires $2,00!) cash, and Howard is broke. Robert Underwood, who had been repulsed re-pulsed hv Howard's wife, Annie, in his college days, and had once been engaged to Alicia. Howard's stepmother, has """" apartments at the Astruria, and is ap parently in prosperous circumstances. Howard recalls a $250 loan to Underwood, that remains unpaid, and decides to ask him for the $2,000 he needs. Underwood, taking advantage of his intimacy with Mrs Jeffries, Sr., becomes a sort of social highwayman. Discovering his true character char-acter she denies him t.he house. Alicia receives a note from Underwood, threatening threat-ening suicide. She decides to go and see him. He is In desperate financial straits. Art dealers for whom he has been acting as commissioner, demand an accounting. He cannot make good. Howard Jeffries calls In an intoxicated condition. He asks Underwood for $2,000 and is told by the latter that he is In debt up to his eyes. Howard drinks himself into a maudlin condition, and goes to sleep on a divan. A caller is announced and Underwood draws a screen around the drunken sleeper. Alicia enters. She demands a promise from him that he will not take bis life, pointing to the disgrace that would attach to herself. Underwood refuses re-fuses to promise unless she will renew her patronage. CHAPTER VII. Continued. "I don't believe you intend to carry out your threat. I should have known from the first that your object was to frighten me. The pistol display was highly theatrical, but It was only a bluff. You've no more idea of taking your life than I have of taking mine. T in nnmn T mlnht "It's no use battling against the tide. The strongest swimmer must go under some time. I've played my last card and I've lost Death is better than vgoing to jail. What good is life anyway any-way without money? Just a moment's nerve and it will all be over." Opening the drawer in the desk, he took out the revolver again. He turned it -over in his hand and regarded fearfully fear-fully the polished surface of the instrument in-strument that bridged life and death. He had completely forgotten Howard's presence in the room. On the threshold thresh-old of a terrible deed, his thoughts were leagues away. Like a man who is drowning, and close to death, he saw with surprising distinctness a kaleidoscopic view of his past life. He saw himself an innocent. Impulsive school boy, the pride of a devoted mother, the happy home where he spent his childhood. Then came the association with bad companions, the first step in wrongdoing, stealing out of a comrade's pocket in school, the death of his mother, leaving home with downward progress until he gradually grad-ually drifted into his present dishonest dishon-est way of living. What was the good of regrets? He could not recall his mother to life. He could never rehabilitate rehab-ilitate himself among decent men and women. The world had suddenly become be-come too small for him. He must go, and quickly. Fingering the pistol nervously, he sat before the mirror and placed it against his temple. The cold steel gave him a sudden shock. He won. ; iapt. bunion cnucKiea, ana expana ing his mighty chest to its fullest licked his chops with satisfaction This was the opportunity he had been looking for a sensational murder in a big apartment hotel, right In the very heart of his precinct! Nothing could be more to his liking. It was a rich man's murder, the best kind to attract attention to himself. The sensational newspapers would be ful! of the case. They would print col umns of stuff every day, together witt his portrait. That was just the kind of publicity he needed now that he was wire-pulling for an inspectorship They had caught the man "with the goods" that was very clear. He promised himself to attend to the rest. Conviction was what he was after. He'd see that no tricky lawyei got the best of him. Concealing, as well as he could, his satisfaction, he drew himself up and, with blustering show of authority, immediately tooli command of the situation. Turning to a police sergeant at his side, he said : "Maloney, this fellow may have had an accomplice. Take four officers and watch every exit from the hotel. Ar rest anybody attempting to leave the building. Put two officers to watch the fire escapes. Send one man on the roof. Go!" "Yes, sir," replied the sergeant, as he turned away to execute the order. Capt. Clinton gave two strides forward, for-ward, and catching Howard by the collar, col-lar, jerked him to his feet. "Now, young feller, you come with me! We'll go upstairs and have a look at the dead man." (TO BE CONTINUED.) have spared myself the humiliation of this clandestine Interview. Goodnight!" Good-night!" She went toward the door. Underwood Under-wood made no attempt to follow her. In a hard, strange voice, which he scarcely recognized as his own, he merely said: "Is that all, you have to say?" "Yes," replied Alicia, as she turned at the door. "Let it be thoroughly un derstood that your presence at my house is not desired. If you force yourself upon me In any way, you must take the consequences." Underwood bowed, and was silent. She did not see the deathly pallor of his face. Opening the door of the apartment which led to the hall, she again turned. "Tell me, before 1 go you didn't mean what you said in your letter, did you?" "I'll tell you nothing," replied Underwood Un-derwood doggedly. She tossed her head scornfully. "I don't believe that a man who is coward enough to write a letter like this has the courage to carry, out his threat." Stuffing the letter back into her bag, she added: "I should have thrown It in the waste-paper basket, but on second thoughts, I think I'll keep It. Good-night." "Good-night," echoed Underwood mechanically. He watched her go down the long hallway and disappear in the elevator. Then, shutting the door, he came slowly back into the room anc sat down at his desk. For ten minutes he sat there motionless, his head bent forward, every limb relaxed. There was deep silence, broken only by Howard's How-ard's regular breathing and the loud Licking of the clock. "It's all up." he muttered to himself, j dered if it would hurt, and if there would be instant oblivion. The glare of the electric light In the room disconcerted dis-concerted him. It occurred to him that it would be easier In the dark. Reaching out his arm, he turned the electric button, and the room was immediately im-mediately plunged into darkness, except ex-cept for the moonlight which entered through the windows, Imparting a ghostly aspect to the scene. On the other side of the room, behind the screen, a red glow from the open fire fell on the sleeping form of Howard Jeffries. Slowly, deliberately, Underwood raised the pistol to his temple and fired. CHAPTER VIII. "Hello! What's that?" Startled out of his Gargantuan slumber by the revolver's loud report, Howard sat up with a jump and rubbed his eyes. On the other side of the screen, concealed from his observation, ob-servation, there was a heavy crash of a body falling with a chair then all was quiet. Scared, not knowing where he was. Howard jumped to his feet. For a moment he stood still, trying to collect col-lect his senses. It was too dark to discern anything plainly, but he could dimly make out outlines of aesthetic furniture and bibelots. Ah, he remembered re-membered now! He was in Underwood's Under-wood's apartment. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to recall how he came there, and slowly his befuddled be-fuddled brain began to work. He remembered re-membered that he needed $2,000, and that he had called on Robert Underwood Under-wood to try and borrow the money. I Yes, he recalled that perfectly well. ' Then he and LTnderwood got drinking ' and talking, and he had fallen asleep. asleep in a bed while a man killed himself in the same room? It sounded preposterous. The wisest course for him would be to get away before anybody any-body came. Quickly he picked up his hat and made for the door. Just, as he was about to lay hand on the hlndle there was the click of a latchkey. Thus headed off, and not knowing what to do, he halted in painful suspense. The door opened and a man entered. He looked as surprised to see Howard How-ard as the latter was to see him. He was clean-shaven and neatly dressed, yet did not look the gentleman. His appearance was rather that of a servant. serv-ant. All these details flashed jefore Howard's mind before he blurted out: "Who the devil are you?" The man looked astonished at the question and eyed his interlocutor closely, as if in doubt as to his identity. identi-ty. In a cockney accent he said loftily: "I am Ferris, Mr. Underwood's man, sir." Suspiciously, he added: "Are you a friend of Mr. Underwood's, sir?" He might well ask the question, for Howard's disheveled appearance and ghastly face, still distorted by terror, was anything but reassuring. Taken by surprise, Howard did not know what to say, and like most people questioned at a disadvantage, he answered an-swered foolishly: "Matter? No. What makes you think anything is the matter?" Brushing past the man, he added: "It's late. I'm going." "Stop a minute!" cried the man servant. There was something In Howard's manner that he did not like. Passing quickly into the sitting room, he called out: "Stop a minute!" But Howard did not stop. Terror gave him wings and, without waiting for .he elevator, he was already half way |