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Show 'yrfy "This Is Daniel Maitland . . 8ylvlal" the case of the Dougherty Investment Company no longer exist," "Dan!" "Sylvia Does It please you?" "Don't you know? How can It do anything but please me? If you knew how I have suffered because my father fa-ther suffered, fearing the No, but you must listen! Dan, it was wearing him down to his grave, and I thought " "You thought that if you could get the papers and give them to him " "Yes. I could see no harm, because-he because-he was as innocent as you " . "Of course. But why didn't you ask " " me?" "He did, and you refused." "But how could I tell, Sylvia,, that you were his daughter, and that I should " "Hush! Central will hear!" "Central's got other things to do, besides listening to early morning; confabulations. con-fabulations. I love you." "Dan." "Yes?" "I love to hear you say so, dear." "Please say that last word ovef again. I didn't get It." "Dear." "And that means that you'll marry mar-ry me?" A pause. "I say, that means " "I heard you, Dan." "But it does, doesn't It?" "Yes." "When?" "Whenever you please." "I'll come up now." "Don't be a silly." "Well, when then? To-day?" "Yes no!" "But when?" "To-moTrow I mean next week 1 -mean next month." "No; to-day at four. I'll call for you." "But, Dan." "Sweetheart!" "But you mustn't! How can I " "Easily enough. There's the Uttle Church-Around-the-Corner " SYNOPSIS. "Mad" Dan Maitland, on reaching his New York bachelor club, met an attractive attrac-tive young woman at the door. Janitor O'Hagan assured him no one had been within that day. Dan discovered a woman's wom-an's finger prints In dust on his desk, along with a letter from his attorney. Maitland dined with Bannerman. his attorney. at-torney. Dan sot out for Greenfields, to Set his family jewels. Maitland, on reaching home, surprised lady In gray, cracking the safe containing his gems. She, apparently, took him for a well-known well-known crook, Daniel Anlsty. Half-hypnotized, Maitland opened his safe, took therefrom the Jewels, and gave them to her, first forming a partnership In crime. The real Dan Anlsty, sought by police of the world, appeared. Maitland overcame him. He and the girl went to New York In her auto. He had the jewels. She Was to meet him that day. A "Mr. 8nalth" Introduced himself as a detective. detec-tive. To shield the girl In gray, Maitland, R.bout to show him the jewels, supposedly lost, was felled by a blow from "Snalth's" can. The latter proved to be Anlsty himself and he secured the gems. Anlsty, who was Maltland's double, masqueraded as the latter. The criminal kept Malt-land's Malt-land's engagement with the girl in gray. He gave her the gems. The girl in gray visited Maltland's apartments during his absence and returned gems. Maitland. without cash, called up his home and heard a woman's voice expostulating. Anlsty, disguised as Maitland. tried to wring from her the location of the gems. A crash was heard at the front door. Maitland overwhelmed the crook, allowing allow-ing him to escape to shield the young woman. The girl in gray made her escape, es-cape, Jumping into a cab. An instant later, by working a ruse, Anistv was at her side. He took her to Attorney Ban-nerman's Ban-nerman's office. There, by torture, he tried In vain to wring from her the location loca-tion of the gems. He left her a moment and she 'phoned O'Hagan, only getting in the words: "Tell Mr. Maitland under the brass bowl," the hiding place In the lat-ter's lat-ter's rooms, when Anisty heard her words. Bannerman also was revealed as a crook. He and Anisty set out to secure the gems and leave town. The girl was still imprisoned. Maitland finding the girl ffone, searched his rooms and unearthed the jewels under the brass howl. He struck Anisty's trail In a big office building. build-ing. Maitland and girl in gray confessed love for each other. To shield her Dan told HIckey she was Mrs. Maitland. Bannerman Ban-nerman died a self-confessed thief. CHAPTER XVII. Continued. "You dropped It in the trunk-closet, t found it there. There Is something of mine In it?" Dumb with misery, she nodded; and after a little: "You didn't look, of course." "I had no right," he said, shortly. "Other men wo-would have thought "0, I shall not sleep until I know! Good night!" "Good night! Drive on, cabby." He stood, smiling queerly, until the hansom, cfcmbing the Park Avenue hill, vanished over its shoulder. Then swung about and with an eager step retraced his way to his rooms, very confident that God was in his heaven and all well with the world. III. The cab stopped. The girl rose and descended to the walk. The driver touched his hat and reined the horse away. "Good night, ma'am," he bade her, cheerfully. And she told him "Good night" in her turn. For a moment she seemed a bit hesitant hesi-tant and fearful, left -thus alone. The house in front of which she stood, like its neighbors, reared a high facade to the tender, star-lit sky, its windows, with drawn shades and no lights, wearing wear-ing a singular look of blind patience. It had a high stoop and a sunken area. There was a dull glow in one of the basement windows. It was very late or extremely early. The moon was down, though Its place was in some way filled by the golden disk of the clock in the Grand Central station's tower. The air was impregnated impreg-nated with the sweet and fragrant breath of the new-born day. In the tunnel beneath the street a trolley car rumbled and whined and clanked lone-somely. lone-somely. A stray cat wandered out of a cross street with the air of a seasoned sea-soned debauchee; stopped, scratched itself with inimitable abandon, and suddenly, mysteriously alarmed at nothing, turned itself into a streak of shadow that fled across the street and vanished. And as if affected hv Its ment; but he was sleeping as quietly, as soundly, as the servant had declared. de-clared. Then on, more hurriedly, up another flight, to her own room, where she turned on the electric bulb in panic haste. For it had just occurred to her that the telephone bell might ring before she could change her clothing cloth-ing and get downstairs and shut herself her-self into the library, whose closed door would prevent the bell from being audible through the house. In less than ten minutes she was stealing silently down to the drawing room floor again, quiet as a spirit of the night. The library door shut without with-out a sound; for the first time she breathed freely. Then, pressing the button on the wall, she switched on the light in the drop-lamp on the center cen-ter table. The telephone stood beside be-side it. She drew up a chair and sat down near the instrument, ready to lift the receiver off its hook the instant the bell began to sound; and waited, the soft light burning in the loosened tresses of her hair, enhancing the soft color that pulsed in her cheeks, fading before the joy that lived in her eyes when she hoped. For she dared hope at times; and at times could not but fear. So greatly had she dared, who greatly loved, so heavy upon her untarnished heart was the burden of the sin that she had put upon it, because she loved. Perhaps he would not call; perhaps the world was to turn cold and be forever gray to her eyes. He was even then deciding; decid-ing; at that very moment her happiness happi-ness hung in the scales of his mercy. If he could forgive. There was a click And h rs "But I've nothing to wear!" "Oh!" Another pause. "Dan. You don't wish it truly?" "I do wish it, truly. To-day, at four. The Church of the Transfiguration. Yes, I'll scare up a best man if you'll find bridesmaids. Now you will, won't you?" "I if you wish it, dear." "I'll have to ask you to repeat that." "I shan't. There!" "Very well," meekly. "But will yoa tell me one thing, please?" "What is it?" "Where on earth did you get hold of that kit of tools?" She laughed softly. "My big brother caught a burglar once, and kept the kit for a remembrance. I borrowed them." "Give me your big brother's address and I'll send 'em back with my thanks No, by George! I won't, either. I've as much right to keep 'em as he has on that principle." And again she laughed,' very gently and happily. Dear God, that such happiness hap-piness could come to one! "Sylvia?" "Yes, dear?" "Do you love me?" "I think you may believe it, when I sit here at four o'clock in the morning, morn-ing, listening to a silly boy talk nonsense non-sense over a telephone wire." "But I want to hear you say so!" "But central " "I tell you central has other things to do!" At this juncture the voice of central, jaded and acidulated, broke in curtly "Are you through?" THE END. they had the right. I th-think you had, the circumstances considered. At all events," steadying her voice, "I say you have, now. I give you that right. Please go and Investigate that hand-bag, Mr. Maitland. I wish you to." He turned and staved at her curiously. curious-ly. "I don't know what to think," he said. "I can not believe " "You mu-must believe. I have no right to profit by your disbelief. Dear Mr. Maitland, you have been kind to me, very kind to me; do me this last kindness, if you will." The young face turned to him was gravely and perilously sweet; very nearly he forgot all else. But that she would not have. "Do this for me. What you will find will explain everthing. You will understand. un-derstand. Perhaps" timidly "perhaps "per-haps you may even find it in your heart to forgive when you understand. If you should, my card-case is in the bag, and" She faltered, biting her lip cruelly to steady a voice quivering with restrained sobs. "Please, please go at once, and and see for yourself ! " she implored him passionately. Of a sudden he found himself resolved. re-solved. Indeed, he fancied that t were dangerous to oppose her; she was overwrought, on the verge of losing los-ing her command of self. She wished this thing, and though with all his soul he hated it, he would do as she desired. de-sired. "Very well," he assented quietly. "Shall I stop the cab now?" "Please." He tapped on the roof of the hansom han-som and told the cabby to draw in at the next corner. Thus he was put down not far from his home below the Thirty-third street grade. Neither spoke as he alighted, and she believed that he was leaving her In displeasure and abhorrence; but he had only stepped behind the cab for a moment to speak to the driver. In a moment he was back, standing by the step with one hand on the apron and staring in very earnestly and soberly at the shadowed sweetness of her pallid pal-lid face, that gleamed in the gloom there like some pale, shy, sad flower. Could there be evil combined with such sheer loveliness, with features that in every line bodied forth the purity of the spirit that abode within? In the soul of him he could not believe that a thief's nature fed canker-like at the heart of a woman so divinely, naively dear and desirable. And he would not. "Won't you let me go?" "Just a minute. I I should like to If I find that you have done nothing so very dreadful," he laughed uneasily, uneasi-ly, "do you wish to know?" "You know I do." She could not help saying that, letting him see that far into her heart. "You spoke of my calling, I believe. That means to-morrow afternoon, at the earliest. May I not cull you up on the telephone?" "The number is In (lie book," she said In a tremulous voice. "And your name In the card-case?" "Yes." "And if I should call in half an hour?" terror, the gray girl slipped silently into the area and tapped at the lighted window. Almost immediately the gate was cautiously opened. A woman's head looked out, with suspicion. "Oh, thank Heavings!" it said, with abrupt fervor. fer-vor. "I was afraid it mightn't be you, Miss Sylvia. I'm so glad you're back. There ain't hasn't been a minute these past two nights that I haven't been In a fidget." The girl laughed quietly and passed through the gateway (which was closed behind her) into the basement hall, where she lingered a brief moment. mo-ment. "My father, Annie?" she Inquired. "He ain't hasn't stirred since you went out, Miss Sylvia. He's sieepin' peaceful as a lamb." "Everything is all right, then?" "Now that you're home, It is, praises be!" The servant secured the inner door and turned up the gas. "Not if I was to be given notice to-morrow mornin'," she announced, firmly, "will I ever consent to be a party to such goln's-on another night." "There will be no occasion, Annie," said the girl. "Thank you, and good night." A resigned sigh "Good night, Miss Sylvia" followed her up the stairs. She went very cautiously, careful to brush against no article of movable i furniture in the halls, at. pains to make no noise on the stairs. At the door of her father's room on the second floor ho stopped and listeuwl for a full mo- , flamed scarlet, as hastily she lifted the receiver to her ear. The armature buzzed sharply. Then central's voice cut the stillness. "Hello! Nine-o-flve-one?" "Yes." "Wait a minute." She waited, breathless, in a quiver. The silence sang upon the wire, the silence of the night through which he was groping toward her. "Hello! Is this nine-o " "Yes, yes!" "Is this the residence of Alexander C. Graeme?" "Yes." The syllable almost choked her. "Is this Miss Graeme at the "phone?" "It Is." "Miss Sylvia Graeme?" "Yes." "This is Daniel Maitland Sylvia! " "As if I did not know your voice!" she cried, involuntarily. There followed a little pause; and in her throat the pulses tightened and drummed. "I have opened the bag, Sylvia " "Please go on." "And I've sounded the depths of your hideous infamy!" "Oil!" He was laughing. "I've done more. I've made a burnt offering within the last five minutes. Can you guess what it is?" "I 1 don't want to guess! I want to he told." "A burnt offering. on the altar of your happino'i, dear. The papers in I |