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Show tJiyySWl Of FLAMS, Ttf BGQtZ BELL "Tff BLACK 'SAG" 'Tf 'BRASS BOWZ'X r ' ywJ,,'t;1 A FAMOUS neurologist said recently in a lecture: "We don't give our patients much medicine any'more. We give them something to think about. If we can make a man put his thoughts on something constructive and shift the focus of his mind from his bodily ills, we can give him a good start on the road to health." And this is the big Idea out of which the story of "The Destroying Angel" is woven. If any of our readers need to get their minds entirely off themselves and their troubles, they will find in this new serial an uncommonly strong magnet. For Louis Joseph Vance, you know, never wrote a tiresome yarn. He keeps your mind electrified and your interest eager from start to finish. The page now st'iod beside him witt a tray. "Open It," he told the boy indicating a Tmlf-buUle of ch:iiniaiu'. and then to I'eter : "I'm having t bath. "Won't you jump in?' Peter whistled, watching the witu cream over the brandy in the lon glass. "King's peg, eh?" he said, will a lift of disapproving eyebrows. ''Urn. hoy, bring nie some Scotch and plait water for common people." The boy disappeared as AVhitakei lifted his glass. "I'm not waiting," he said bluntly, "I need this now." "1 hope," I'eter said thoughtfully, "that the man who started that lit about drink making a fellow forgel died the death of a dog. He deserved to, anyway." He stopped at Whitaker' side and dropped a hand on lib shoulder. "Hugh," he said, "you're one of the best. Don't. . ." "Whatever he had meant to say, Ik left unfinished because of the returi; of the page with his Scotch; but h( had said enough to let AVhl taker under stand that he knew about the Carstairs ffair. "That's all right," said "Whilaker. 1 I'm not going to make a fool of my self, but I am in a pretty bad way Boy " "Hold on !" Feter interrupted "You're not going to order another! What you've had is enough to gal vanize a corpse." "Barring the negligible difference 01 a few minutes or months, that's me,' returned "Whitaker. "I'd like to know what you mean bj that," Peter remarked, obviously worried. wor-ried. "What's the matter with you?' "Ask Greyerson. I can't remember the name it's too long and I couldn'l pronounce it if I did." Peter's eyes narrowed. "What foolishness fool-ishness has Greyerson been putting into your head?" he demanded. "I've a good mind to go punch his " "It isn't his fault," Whitaker asserted. as-serted. "It's my own or rather, it's something in the nature of a posthumous posthu-mous gift from my progenitors ; several of 'em died of it, and now it seems : V I mm - 111 "You Look as If You'd Seen a Ghost." must. Greyerson snys so. at least, and when I didn't believe hiin lie called in Hartt and Bushnell to hold my ante-mortem. ante-mortem. They made it unanimous. If I'm uncommonly lucky I may live to see next Thanksgiving." "You can't make me believe that," Peter insisted. "It just can't be so. A man like you, who's always lived, clean . . . Why, look at your athletic record ! I won't believe it !" His big, red, generous fist described a large and inconclusive gesture of violence. "Well," he growled finally," grant all this which I don't, not for one little minute what do you mean to do?" "I don't mind telling you," said Whitaker: 'I don't know. Wish J did. At the same time, I've got to dc something get away somewhere." Abrupt inspiration sparked the imagination imag-ination of I'eter Stark, and he began to sputter with enthusiasm. "I've got it !" he cried, jumping to his feet. "A sea trip's just the (hing. Chances are, it'll turn the trick bring you round all rigbt-O, aud prove what asses doctors are. I can have the Adventuress Ad-venturess put in commission within tl.ree days. We'll try that South Seas thing we've talked about so long. What d'you say?" A warm light glowed In Whitakcr's sunken eyes. He nodded slowly. I Just suppose now that in Whitaker's battered mind the seed thought cf suicide has started to swell and sprout do you believe that the anticipation of a sea trip will kill the seed? There's a hint in this question. I.TO BE CONTINUED.) CHAPTER I Doom. "Then I'm to understand there's no hope for me?" "I'm nfraid not..." Greyerson said reluctantly, sympathy in his eyes. "None whatever." The verdict was thus brusquely emphasized by Hartt, one of the two consulting specialists. Having spoken, he glanced at his watch, then at the face of his colleague, col-league, Bushnell, who contented himself him-self with a tolerant waggle of his head, apparently meant to imply that the subject of their deliberations really must be reasonable. Whitaker looked quickly from one to the other of his three judges, acutely sensitive to the dread significance signi-ficance to be detected in the expression of each. Failing to extract the least glimmering glimmer-ing of hope from the attitude of any one of them, he drew a long breath, unconsciously bracing himself in his chair. "It's funny," he said with his nervous nerv-ous smile "hard to realize, I mean. You see, I feel so fit " "Between attacks," Hartt interjected quickly. "Yes," Whitaker had to admit, dashed. "Attacks," said Bushnell, heavily, "recurrent at intervals constantly more brief, each a trifle more severe than its predecessor." Evidently Bushnell considered the last word his prerogative. There was a brief uneasy silence in the gloomy consulting room. Then Whitaker rose. ' "Well, how long will you give me?" he asked in a strained voice. "Six months," said Greyerson, miserably mis-erably avoiding his eye. "Three," Hartt corrected jerkily. "Perhaps..." The proprietor of the last word stroked his chin with a contemplative con-templative air. "Thanks," said Whitaker, without irony. He stood for an instant with his head bowed in thought. "What a damned outrage," he observed thoughtfully. thought-fully. And suddenly he turned aud flung out of the room. Greyerson jumped to follow him, but paused as he heard the crash of the street door. He turned with a twitching, twitch-ing, apologetic smile. "Poor devil!" he said, sitting down at his desk and fishing a box of cigars from one of the drawers. "Married?" Hartt Inquired. "No. That's the only mitigating circumstance," cir-cumstance," said Greyerson, distributing distribut-ing glasses. "He's quite alone in the world, as far as I know no near relatives, rel-atives, at least. He's junior partner In a young law firm down-town senior a friend or classrante of his, I understand under-stand : Drummond & Whitaker. Moves with the right sort of people. Young Stark Peter Stark is his closet friend." Hugh Whitaker stood for a long time how long he never knew bareheaded bare-headed on a corner, just as he had left Greyerson's office: scowling at nothing, considering Uie enormity of the wrong that had been put upon him. Later, realizing that people were staring, star-ing, he clapped on his hat to satisfy them and strode aimlessly down Sixth Avenue. He turned across town toward Fifth Avenue, came to his club, and went in. Tassing through the ollice. force of habit swung his gaze to the letter-rack. There was a square white envelope in the W pigeonhole, and it proved to be addressed to him. He knew the handwriting hand-writing very well too well ; his heart gave a great jump as he recognized it, and then sank like a stone; for nut only must he die. but he must give up the girl he loved, and had planned to marry. The first thing he meant to do was to write to her and explain and release her from her promise. The next thing. . . He refused to let the Idea of the next step form in his mind. But he knew very well what it would be. In the backwards of his understanding it lurked a gray, grisly, shameful shadow. The elevator kept him waiting a moment or two, just round the corner from the grill-room door, whence came a sound of voices talking and laughing. Whitaker heard what was being said without, at first, comprehending heard and afterwards remembered in vivid detail. "Seems to be the open season for runaways," Hamilton was saying. "It's only a few days since Thurlow Ladis-las' Ladis-las' daughter what's her name? Mary took the bit between her teeth and bolted with the old man's chauffeur." chauf-feur." Somebody asked : "How far did they get before old Ladislas caught up?" "He didn't give chase. He's not that kind. IC he was put to it, old Thurlow Thur-low could play the unforgiving parent in a melodrama without any make-up whatever." "He's just like that," said Hamilton. Hamil-ton. "Remember his other daughter, Grace, eloping with youug Pettit a few years ago? Old Ladislas had a down 3n I'ettit who's a decent enough kid, notwithstanding so Grace was promptly disowned, and they've no hope of ever touching a penny of the Ladislas coin." "But what became of them Mary and the stoker-person?" "Nobody knows, except possibly themselves." "What's she like, this Mary-quite-contrary?" inquired George Brenton's voice. "Oh, nothing but a kid," said little Fiske. "Not over eighteen." The elevator was waiting by this time, but Whitaker paused an instant before taking it, chiefly because the sound of his own name, uttered by Hamilton, had roused him out of the abstraction in which he had overheard the preceding conversation. "Anyhow, I'm sorry for Hugh Whitaker. Whit-aker. Pie's going to take this hard, mighty hard." George Brenton asked, as if surprised: sur-prised: "What? I didn't know he was interested in that quarter." "Y'ou must be blind. Alice Cnrstairs has had him going for a year. Everybody Every-body thought she was only waiting for him to make some big money he ai much as anybody, I fancy." Brenton added the last straw. "That's tough," he said soberly. "Whitaker's "Whit-aker's a white man, aud Alice Car-stairs Car-stairs didn't deserve him. But I wouldn't blame any man for feeling cut-up to be thrown over for an out-and-out rotter like Percy Grim-shaw. Grim-shaw. . ." Whitaker heard no more. At the first mention of the name of Alice Car-stairs Car-stairs he had snatched her letter from his pocket and was reading. Nobody will ever know just what Alice Car-stairs Car-stairs saw fit to write to Hugh Whitaker. Whit-aker. The blood ebbed from his face and left it ghastly, and wdien he had torn the paper to shreds and let them flutter about his feet, he swayed perceptibly per-ceptibly so much so that one of the pages took nlarm and jumped to his side. "Beg pardon, Mr. Whitaker did you call me?" Whitaker steadied himself and stared until he recognized the boy. "No," he said thickly, "but I want you. Give me a bar order." The boy produced the printed form and Whitaker hastily scribbled his order or-der on it. "Bring that up to the library," li-brary," he said, "and be quick about it." He stumbled into the elevator, and presently found himself in the library. There was no one else about, and Whitaker was as glad of that as it was in him to be glad of anything just then. He dropped heavily into a big armchair and waited, his brain whirling whirl-ing and seething, his nerves on edge and screeching. In this state Peter Stark found him. Peter sauntered into the room with a manner elaborately careless. Beneath Be-neath that mask he was anything but indifferent, just as his appearance was anything but fortuitous. Moreover, refer had already heard about Alice Carstairs and Percy Grimshaw. "Ilel-lo" he said, contriving by mere accident to catch sight of Whitaker, who was almost invisible in the big chair with its back to the body of the room. "What you doing up here, Hugh? What's up?" "It's all up," said Whitaker, trying to pull himself together. "Everything's up !" "Don't believe It." said Stark, coolly. "My feet are on the ground ; but you look as if you'd seen a ghost." "I have my own," said Whitaker. |