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Show Tee Mystery off Hartley Hmise By CLIFFORD S. RAYMOND j 1J - - V $ Nitrated by IRWIN MYERS CoPyr!ght by Geoe H. Do Co. I! '' s','ss'''''' Jul, mid it had baronial habits, but it brought no friends- to the doors. It was nearly always with regard to Isobel that the condition seemed unnatural. un-natural. For an Invalid like Mr. Sidney Sid-ney It was natural enough. Mrs. Sidney Sid-ney was wholly devoted to him; I was engaged in professional duties ; and for Jed and the servants in the house It was natural to be content with what they had of life or with the performance perform-ance of duties for which they were paid and which they might abandon at will. But this was Isobel's life. She was young, vibrant, beautiful, but vistas opening Into human prospects were closed to her. And she was engaged en-gaged to a piece of professional dead wood who happened to be the only masculine thing available when her mother was in great distress. Later Isobel said that as a woman she knew of course that I loved her, but this Is evident fiction. She did no such thing, and It would be an un-kindness un-kindness to her to think so. What was only comedy If I were, as she thought I was, an indifferent, unfeeling unfeel-ing man, would have been cruelty If it had been known that the position was mockery of denied hopes. Isobel used me to gain her liberty. She affected familiarities and called me "John" derisively, or worse "dear" or "old dear." I protested, In more pain than she could guess. "We are engaged," she said. "What should I call you?" "You might consider the fact that we are not engaged," I suggested. "But we are. If we don't act as If we were, you'll not be any protection against Jed. Don't you want me to call you John?" "Of course I do," I said. "It's perfectly per-fectly straightforward, natural and proper." "Then It's the 'dear' and 'old dear' you object to, and I perfectly delight in calling you 'old dear.' It fits so the world, because I saw Isobel's and then, holding her mother's hand, she allowed Mrs. Sidney to have the moment mo-ment of distress with the intimate support sup-port of her own presence. It may seem a small struggle that mother and daughter went through, but it did not seem small to me who witnessed it, and It had no rhetorical and little emotional expression. Isobel knew her mother suffered, but she was wise. Mrs. Sidney dreaded her daughter's adopted mode of life, but knew her daughter. "Good-bye, mother," said Isobel. "We sha'n't be gone long. Come on, John." That was the first time she had called me John honestly and without comedy. I knew her finesse. She did It to give her mother the comfortable sense that she was not going upon a wild adventure of an automobile ride with an unrelated man but was within the strict intimacy of the family. We went driving, Isobel at the wheel. She liked to drive last and I do not. I am timid. I do not think that locomotion loco-motion Is a genuine human pleasure. Possibly it is, behind either a fast or a plodding horse. I prefer the plodding horse. Locomotion then merely reveals gradually changing facets of the scene; one likes to see the manifold aspects of a landscape unfold. But an automobile auto-mobile driven as Isobel wanted to drive it revealed no facets. It merely blurred the vision and gave the idea that the satisfaction sought was a certain cer-tain amount of wind blown in the face. For such as love it, not for me! "That was a difficult scene, doctor," she said. I knew that was what she would call me next "doctor." I came directly di-rectly down out of the clouds. "I know it was," I said, "and I admired ad-mired the honest way in which you managed it." "I think I shall continue to call you John just that way," she said. "It seems more honest and decent. After all, we are engaged." i Sometimes Mr. Sidney could be taken out in an automobile, of a warm, fair afternoon. It was not often that his strength permitted this, but whenever when-ever it did, I was glad not only to allow al-low but to suggest that he make use of all opportunities. The most beautiful o' our river drives bright us, within the limitation of Mr. Sidney's strength, to the penitentiary peni-tentiary at Ahvick. It was a hideous structure of barracks, work-rooms and walls, of cells and armed guards ; but it was in lovely surroundings, and if we took the best roads, we came naturally natur-ally to the prison walls. Mr. Sidney would look at the enclosure en-closure and the guards in the turrets as if interpreting his own life in the terms of prison existence. We may have taken this drive by the prison road ten times when, approaching it on another of our outings, Mr. Sidney had the driver stop at the entrance. "I feel very strong and well today, doctor," he said, "and if you do not object, I think I should like to go inside. in-side. I have seen the outside so many boredom in six months. There is nothing noth-ing preposterous about my candidacy for Miss Sidney. I am older than I'd like to bo, but that Is all." "You are a hideous old fool," I said, "but I think I can handle you, and I give you warning." "I am going to be quite friendly," said Jed. "You Hatter yourself," I said. "Well, anyway," he said, "I'm friendly." friend-ly." He proved to be so. The life of the house went placidly from day to day. Isobel, with a sense of our posturing toward each other, made mocking gestures ges-tures of affection which shocked her mother. She particularly delighted to demonstrate, when Jed was serving dinner. I thought she would end by getting me shot in the back, but Je-d had rated me finally as unimportant, which did my egotism no good. For such a rascal to discard me, formally betrothed as I was to Isobel, in his scandalous pursuits of that beautiful girl, was preposterous. If Mrs. Sidney had known that I was idiotically in love with Isobel, she would not have sought relief from her distress by the arrangement which made me her daughter's protective fiance. The only thing I could take credit for In this absurd situation was that Mrs. Sidney was not allowed, to know the state of my. feelings. I was as sensible as a corrupting romanticism ro-manticism would permit me to be. I knew that any affection I might place in this fashion was a real and serious emotional vice, which if not controlled might lead to unhappiness. That consciousness con-sciousness had steadied me, but it had not delivered me. Isobel walked brightly through the old house of tragedy as surely it was, however hidden the tragedy. She was the glint of sunshine in the aisles. of the dark woods, the odor of roses against the wall. She had the charm of the hollyhocks, the freshness of the hopatica in the spring, the beauty of the wild rose in June. If I showed my feeling more than a liver sausage shows a soul, I hope I may be punished. What I thought of Isobel was my own affair, so long as I kept it strictly my own affair. I took myself in hand with as much energy and promptness as I could, following fol-lowing the announcement of our engagement. en-gagement. I did not want to confess myself a fool. I did not intend to do so if I could help it. I overdid it. I became disagreeable. I kept as much out of Isobel's presence as possible. I never willingly was alone with her. I did my best to avoid meeting her or speaking to her. Isobel met the situation with her natural frankness after I had been giving this demonstration of myself for some time. "Doctor," she said, "this' household necessarily imposes friendships upon the people in It. I wonder if we could not be a little more agreeable to each other." I did not know what to say. I hoped not to be a hypocrite, and I did not want to be absurd. "I shall be glad to be as agreeable y : Q "JOHN!" Synop.sls. Dr. John Mlchelson, Just biinnlnij his career, becomes resident rjhyaiuiuri and companion of Homer Sidney at Hartley house. Mr. Sidney is an American, a seml-liwalld, seml-liwalld, old and rich and very Ue-Klrous Ue-Klrous to live. Mrs. Sidney is a Spanish woman, disniliei and reticent. reti-cent. Jed, the butler, acts like a prlvlleK'-d member of the family. Hartley house Is a tine old isolated country place, with a murder story, a "haunted pool," and many watcti-doKs, watcti-doKs, and an atmosphere of mystery. mys-tery. The "haunted pool" is where Richard Dobson, son of a former owner of Hartley house, had killed his brother, Arthur lJobaon. Jed begins operations by locking the doctor In his room the very first night. Doctor John fixes his door so he can't be locked In. He meets Isobel, daughter of the house and falls In love at first sieht. In the night he finds the butler drunk and holding Mrs. Sidney by the wrist. He interferes. Mrs. Sidney explains. ex-plains. John buys a revolver. John overhears Jed telling Mrs. Sidney he will have his way. In reply she says Hhe will not hesitate to kill him. Mrs. Sidney asks John to consent 7o the announcement of his engagement to Isobel. The young people consent to the make-believe make-believe announcement. Jed tries to kill John. 0 t CHAPTER III Continued. 4 Mr. Sidney never liked to have his Ticarious drinking interrupted, but he always was good natured. "Well, doctor," he said, "what now? Is Jed drinking too much for my health?" At that moment no possible amount of liquor would have been too much for Jed. The wretch must have thought 1 was a ghost. "Jed may drink himself to death, for all me," I said. "That probably Is the best end he can come to. I think he is gallows meat, but I want to talk to him when you can spare him." "We can't spare Jed to have him hanged," said Mr. Sidney. "He's too useful. Who else could drink my wine of an evening? Go along with the doctor, Jed, and see what he wants. It's probably a matter of pills or powders pow-ders for me." Jed was recovering from his shock, but he still showed the effects of it. "No hurry," I said. "I'd rather wait a half hour. I'll be in my room." I went there and wrote two letters. Both were to one point. They related circumstantially what had happened that afternoon. One I addressed to a lawyer I knew, and the other to Dr. Brownell. Jed knocked at the door as I finished them. He was . still unnerved. un-nerved. "I have something I want you to read," I said, and gave him the letters. He read them and moistened his lips. "You don't need to talk, Jed," I said. "I'll do all tile talking that's necessary. neces-sary. I am not going away. I am going go-ing to stay right here, and you'd better be very careful of my health. These letters go out tonight. The men who get them will keep their mouths shut so long as I am alive. If anything should happen to me, whether you had anything to do with it or not, you'd have a difficult time with a jury." "It was a mistake," he said. "I would not do you any harm. I shot at i a rabbit." "Twice with a pistol, when you had a shotgun?" I said. "You did! I was the rabbit. ' CHAPTER IV. " Jed ottme to me the next day in one ef his candid moods. "I did shoot at you yesterday," he said. "I know you did," I replied. "And you're wondering why and you're wondering if I intend to do it again." "I don't wonder at anything you do," I said. "And you know that if you do It again, the evidence is prepared pre-pared against you. I think I am perfectly per-fectly safe. I know you are a coward." cow-ard." "No, I'm not a coward," he said, as If he were stating a fact and not making mak-ing a boast. "I never do anything without a purpose, and when I have a purpose, I do it no matter what the consequences may be. The reason I wanted to shoot you was because you were engaged to Isobel. I Intend to -. . marry Isobel. Now I know that you are not going to marry Isobel. You are just the foolish fence that her mother thought she could build up around Isobel and keep me from trying try-ing to marry her. Isobel doesn't want you. She Is laughing at you. So we might as well be friends again." "You preposterous old fool!" I said. "You senile alcoholic! You are a violation vio-lation of decency. You enfeebled, exasperating ex-asperating old goat! You would sicken the moral conscience of a mummy. If you ever associate your aspirations with ttie name of Miss Sidney again, I'll cut your throat with a paper knife.'' .led smiled and made me feel ridiculous. ridicu-lous. "I nni n more Intelligent man than you." lie said. "You are too simple for Ihc "iiinpVxities of life. You could not in-;-;i!:!y ln siiliicii'iit for a girl of Miss PH.'-I .'' l'l::'t.T. She would die of times, I I:a7e a curiosity to see the inside."' in-side."' I consented, thinking that with Jed and me helping him we acted as his legs, guiding and sustaining his feeble motions he was strong enough to make the effort. I did not know whether it was good or bad pyschology to give him a sight of so many imprisoned impris-oned men, but my Instinct suggested that it would, in his case, be good. He was a logical, reasoning man a rare phenomenon in the human race. If he had been emotion and sentimental, I should have had more doubt. , Mr. Sidney was important enough to be known in the neighborhood. The warden of the prison came to meet, him in the office as soon as we had entered. He was very cordial to Mr. Sidney, who himself never showed more his aristocracy of democracy. I am a democrat. I am most fond of an aristocratic democrat. Such was Mr. Sidney. Mr. Sidnisy visit the penitentiary. peni-tentiary. tXU bsc CONTINUED.) as 1 can," I said after some mental stuttering. "I want to be, but I am so awkward." "I want to be, too," said Isobel ; "and if we both want to be, we shall not have to glower at each other every time we meet. Even mother does not require it and father would detest it." Without saying anything more, she made me see that I had used a cheap device to escape the consequences of a foolish affection. The girl in a very friendly fashion had shown me that my avoidance of her was marked, cool and unreasonable. It was wholly reasonable rea-sonable from my poor standpoint, but from no other. I saw that I was meeting my difficulty difficul-ty by running away from it, and I not only did not like the timidity of escape in this fashion, but furthermore, I did not like the opinion Isobel formed of me because of it. I, had to face the music, and after that I did. It ought not to have astonished me that I felt better instantly. I knew that a coward cow-ard only increased his troubles. I imagine If I had not seemed such a professional stick, such a thing aloof from human emotions, Isobel would have been merely friendly and kind. As it was. she was tantalizing. She liked me well enough, but that meant very little. If she did not drive, ride, walk or play tennis with me, she had a choice of the servants. It was I or nothing. I was with Mr. Sidney a number of hours every day. They varied, sometimes some-times seven or eight a day in different periods, sometimes three or four. Very little of this time was occupied in professional pro-fessional duty. Life at Hartley house would have been intolerably lonesome if I had been there merely as a practitioner. prac-titioner. And therefore I welcomed a routine that was outside my profes- ( sion. Mr. Sidney had a delicacy ot perception which told him when attention at-tention upon even so amiable an invalid in-valid might be drawing upon the physical phys-ical reserve of the people waiting upon him or being with him. lie always managed that they never should feel the fatigue of it. We saw no company at Hartley house. We made no calls and received none. We extended no invitations and received none. The estate was buruu- J Isobel Used Me to Gain Her Liberty. well it is really wonderful. It Is almost al-most a complete description as well as a charming appellation. I adore it." "I object to unnecessary freedom," I said. "But it helps to deceive Jed." "Nothing deceives Jed. He was deceived de-ceived only for a short while. Then he tried to kill me. He apologized afterward after-ward for his mistake. He knows the character of our engagement." "Just the same, he has not bothered mother since then as he did before." "That is because he is a coward and I have him where I can control him." Mrs. Sidney did not understand her daughter. That was not astonishing; Isobel was a young American woman ; Mrs. Sidney had Spanish traditions. Isobel came natunilly, through her father, to a candor which never ceased to amaze and occasionally to distress dis-tress .her mother. Isobel said what she thought. Her frankness came from honesty of character. Her lovely mother regarded life as something to be managed by reticence and denial. Mrs. Sidney was esthetic, and If a fact were unesthetic, she denied it and put it out of her consideration. It was, to her, the only proper thing to do. Isobel was a clever tennis-player and I a poor one. She beat me three or four sets every fine afternoon. She liked to drive a car- and ride a horse. I drove and rode with her. When Isobel said for the first time that she wanted to take me for a drive In the car, her mother made a gesture of dismay. Isobel stood before her and smiled. "You know we are engaged, mother," she said. I thought of the hen at the pond's edge seeing her brood of ducklings in the water. Mrs. Sidney was not in a panic and she did not flutter, but her distress was acute. She knew tin? girl had to develop and she knew that she had to live in North, not South America. Amer-ica. But knowledge is not a complete anodyne to pain. Isnnel took her mother's hand and kissed it, and then her lips. She smiled In such an honest, frank, perceptive fashion I krow that a uiile can contain con-tain all the human undenitaudiug in |