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Show The Blind Man's Eyes Copyright by Llttl. Brown ka4 Compajijr. "AN ACCIDENT?" Oabrlei Warden, Seattle capitalist, capital-ist, tails his butler he la expecting a caller, to be admitted without quention. He Informs his wife of danger that Vavitens hlra If he pursues a course he considers the only honorable one. Warden leaves the house In his car and mtseU a man whom he takes Into the machine. ma-chine. When the car returns home. Warden Is found dead, murdered, and alone. The caller, a young man, has been at Warden's house, but leaves unobserved. Bob Con-nery, Con-nery, conductor, receives orders to hold train for a party. Five men and a girl board the train, rhs eastern express. The father of the girl, Mr. Dome, Is the person for whom the train was held, l'hlllp D. Kuton, a young man, also boarded the train. Dome tells his daughter and his secretary. Dun Avery, to find out what they can concerning him. The two make Eaton's acquaintance. Dome Is found nearly dead from a murderous murder-ous assault. A surgeon operates. Dome Is revealed as Basil San-tolne, San-tolne, blind, and a power In the financial world as the adviser of "big Interests." Eaton la suspected and quostloned. He refuses Information Infor-mation about himself and admits he was ths caller at Warden's houne. Eaton pleads with Harriet Santolne to withhold Judgment, telling her he Is In serious danger, though Innocent of the crime against her father. He feels the girl believes him. Santolne recovers recov-ers sunVlently to question Eaton, who refuses his Identity. The financier requires Eaton to accompany accom-pany him to the Santolne home as a seml-prlsoner. Eaton meets a resident of the house, Wallace Blatchford. and Mildred Davis, a stenographer, with whom he Is acquainted, ac-quainted, though they conceal the fact. Eaton's mission Is to secure certain documents which are vital to his Interests. CHAPTER XI Continued. 9 Enton drew further back Into the alcove as some une passed through the hall nbove. The footsteps ceased overhead ; Eaton, assured no one was coming down the stairs, spoke swiftly to tell her as much as he might In their moment. "lie Santolne wasn't taken 111 on the train, Edith ; he was attacked." "Attacked!" Her lips barely moved. "lie was nlmost killed ; but they concealed It, Edith pretended he was only 111. I was on the train you know, of course; I got your wire and they suspected me of the attack." "You? But they didn't And out about you, Hugh?" "No ; they are Investigating. Santolne San-tolne would not let them make anything any-thing public. He brought me here while he Is trying to And out about me. So I'm here, Edith herel Is it here too?" Again steps sounded In the hall above. The girl swiftly busied her-gelf her-gelf with gloves and hat; Eaton stood stark In suspense. The servant above It was a sorvant they had heard before, he recognized now merely Icrossed from one room to another overhead. Now the girl's lips moved again. "It?" She formed the question noiselessly. i "The draft of the new agreement." "It either has been sent to him, or It will be sent to him very soon here." , "Where will It be when It Is here?" "Where? Oh I" The girl's eyes went to the wall close to where Eaton stood ; she seemed to measure with them a definite distance from the door and a point shoulder high, and to resist the Impulse to come over and put her hand upon the spot As Eaton Ea-ton followed her look, he heard a slight and muffled click as If from the study; but no sound could reach them through the study doors and what he heard came from the wall Itself. "A safe?" he whispered. "Yes ; Miss Santolne she's In there, Isn't she? closed It just now. There are two of them hidden behind the books, one on each side of the door." Eaton tapped gently on the wall ; the wall was brick ; the safe undoubtedly undoubt-edly was backed with steel. "The best way Is from Inside the room," he concluded. She nodded. "Yes. If you " "Look out 1" Someone now wos coming downstairs. down-stairs. The girl had time only to whisper swiftly, "If we don't get a chance to speak again, watch that vase." She pointed to a bronze an- 1 tlque which stood on a table near them. "When I'm sure the agreement Is In the house, I'll drop a glove-button In that a black one, If I think It'll be In the safo on the right, white on the left. Now go." Eaton moved quietly on and Into the drawing room. Avery's voice Immediately Im-mediately afterward was heard ; he was speaking to Miss Davis, whom he had found In the hallway. Eaton was certain there was no suspicion that he had talked with her there; indeed, Avery seemed to suppose that Eaton was still in the study with Harriet Santolne. It was her lapse, then, which had let him out and had given him that chance; but It was a lapse, he discovered, which was not likely to favor hlra again. From that time, while never held strictly In restraint, he found himself alm&yg m U sight f somfta.na. Euton let himself think. Idly, about Harriet how strange her life had been that part of It at least which was spent, as he had gathered most of her waking hours of recent years hud been spent, with her father. Strange, almost, as his own life I And what a wonderful girl It had made of her clevet, sweet, lovable, with niore than a woman's ordinary capacity ca-pacity for devotion and self-sacrlflce. But, If her service to her father was not only on his personal side but If also she was Intimate In his business busi-ness affairs, must she not therefore have shared the cruel code which had terrorized Eaton for the last four years and kept hlra an exile In Asia and which, at any honr yet, threatened threat-ened to take his life? A grim set came to Eaton's Hps; hla mind went again to his own affairs. I, CHAPTER XII I n The Man From the Train. In the supposition that he was to have less liberty, Eaton proved correct. cor-rect. Harriet Santolne, to whose Impulses Im-pulses had been due his first privileges, privi-leges, showed toward him a more constrained con-strained attitude the following morning. morn-ing. She did not suggest hostility, as Avery constantly did ; nor, Indeed, was there any evidence of retrogression retrogres-sion In her attitude toward him ; she seemed merely to be maintaining th same position; and since this seemed difficult If they were often together, she avoided him. Eaton understood that Santolne, steadily Improving but not yet able to leave his bed, had taken up his work again, propped up by pillows; one of the nurses had been dismissed ; the other was only upon day duty. But Eaton did not see Santolne at all ; and though he learned that Miss Davis or another stenographer, whose name was West, came dally to the house, he never was In a position again to encounter any outsider either coming or going. There was no longer room for Eaton Ea-ton to doubt that Harriet had the confidence con-fidence of her father to almost a complete com-plete extent. Now that Santolne was 111, she worked with him dally for hours ; and Eaton learned that she did the same when he was well. But Avery worked with the blind man too ; he, too. was certainly In a confidential capacity. Was It not probable then that Avery, and not Harriet, was entrusted en-trusted with the secrets of dangerous and ugly matters; or was It possible that this girl, worshiping her father as she did, could know and be sure that, because her father approved these matters, they were right? A hundred times a day, as Eaton saw or spoke with the girl or thought of her presence near by, this obsessed him. A score of times during their casual talk upon meeting at meals or elsewhere, he found himself turned toward some question which would aid him In determining what must be the fact ; but each time he checked himself, until one mornfcng it was the fifth after his arrival at San-tolne's San-tolne's house Harriet was taking him for his walk In the garden before the house. She had Just told him, at his Inquiry, that her father wag very much stronger that morning, and her manner more than ever evidenced her pride in him. They walked on slowly. "I wish you could tell me more about yourself, your-self, Mr. Eaton." "I wish so too," he said. "Then why can you not?" She turned to him frankly; he gated at her a moment and then looked away and shook his head. Did she know all of what was known even under her father's roof ; and If she knew all, would she then loathe or defend it? A motor sped near, halted and then speeded on again ; Eaton, looking up, saw It was a runabout with Avery alone in It; evidently, seeing them in the road, Avery had halted to protest, pro-test, then thought better of It and gone on. But other motors passed now with people who spoke to Harriet Har-riet and who stopped to Inquire for her father and wish him well. "Your father does not seem to be one of the great men without honor in his own neighborhood," Eaton said to her after one of these had halted and gone on. "Everyone who knows Father likes and admires him I" she rejoiced. "I don't mean exactly that," Eaton went on. "They must trust him too, in an extraordinary way. His associates asso-ciates must place most complete confidence con-fidence in him when they leave to him the adjustment of matters such as I understand they da He tells them what is just, and they abide by his decision." Harriet shook her head. "No; It isn't quite that," she said. "What, then?" "You are correct In saying that men of the most opposite sorts and most Irreconcilable to each other constantly con-stantly place their fate In Father's hand; and when he tells them what they must do, they abide by his decision. de-cision. But he doesn't decide for them what Is Just." "I don't understand. What does he tell then), then?" "He tells them what would be the outcome If they fought, who would win and who would lose and by how much. And they believe him and By WiUiamMacHarg Edwin Balmer abide by his decision without fighting; fight-ing; for he knows; and they know that ha knows and is absolutely honest." Eaton was silent for a moment as they walked along. "How can he come to hla decision?" he asked at lost. "How?" "I mean, much of the material presented pre-sented to him must be documentary." "Much of It Is." "Then someone must read It to him." "Of course." Eaton started to speak then refrained. re-frained. "What were you going to say?" she questioned. "That the person or persons who reads the documents to him must occupy oc-cupy an extremely delicate position." "He does. In fact, I think that position po-sition is Father's one nightmare." "Nightmare?" "The person he trusts must not only be absolutely discreet but absolutely ab-solutely honest" "I should think so. If anyone in that position wanted to use the Information In-formation brought to your father, he could make himself millions overnight over-night undoubtedly, and ruin other men." "And kill Father too," the girl added quietly. "Yes," she said as Eaton looked at her. "Father puts nothing above his trust If that trust were betrayed whether or not Father were in any way to blame for it I think It would kill him." "So you are the one who is in that position." "Yes; that Is, I have been." "You mean there Is another now; that is, of course, Mr. Avery?" "Yes; here at this house Mr. Avery and L and Mr. Avery at the office. Before Mr. Avery came, I was the only one who helped here at the house." "When was that?" "When Mr. Avery came? About five years ago. Father had an Immense Im-mense amount of work at that time. Business conditions were very mucu "Every One Who Know Father Likes and Admire Hlml" She Rejoiced. unsettled. There was trouble at that time between some of the big eastern and big western men, and at the same time the government was prosecuting the trusts. Nobody knew what the outcome of It all would be; many of the biggest men who consulted Father were like men groping In the dark. I don't suppose you would remember the time by what I say; but you would remember it as nearly everybody every-body else does by this : it was the time of the murder of Mr. Latron." "Yes ; I remember that" said Eaton Ea-ton ; "and Mr. Avery came to you at that time?" "Yes; Just at that time I was thrown from my horse, and could not do as much as I had been doing, so Mr. Avery was sent to Father." "Then Mr. Avery was reading to him at the time you spoke of the time of the Latron murder?" "No; Mr. Avery came just afterward. after-ward. I was reading to him at that time." "The papers must have been a good deal for a girl of eighteen." "At that time, you mean? They were; but Father dared trust no one else." "Mr. Avery handles those matters now for your father?" "The continuation of what was going go-ing on then? Yes; he took them up at the time I was hurt and so has kept on looking after them ; for there has been plenty for me to do without that; and those things have all been more or less settled now. They have worked themselves out as things do, though they seemed almost unsolvable at the time. One thing that helped In their solution was that Father was able, that time, to urge what was Just, as well as what was advisable." "You mean that In the final settlement settle-ment of them no one suffered?" "No one, I think except of course, poor Mr. Latron ; and that was a private pri-vate matter not connected In any direct di-rect way with tea question at Uaue. Why do yon a all this. irrr. Bntear "I was merely Interested In yon In what your work has been with your Father, and what It Is," he answered quietly. They had been following the edge of the road, she along a path worn in the turf, he on the edge of the road Itself and nearer to the tracks of the motors. Suddenly she cried out and clutched at him. As they had stopped, she had heard the sound of a motor approaching them rapidly from behind. be-hind. Except that this car seemed speeding faster than the others, she had paid no attention and had not turned. Instantaneously, as she had cried and pulled upon him, she had realized that this car was not passing; pass-ing; It was directly behind and almost upon him. She felt him spring to the side as quickly as he could; but her cry and pull upon him were almost too bate ; as he leaped, the car Btruck. Thi blow was glancing, not direct and ha was off his feet and in motion when the wheel struck ; but the car hurled him aside and rolled him over and over. As she rushed to Eaton, the two men In the rear seat of the cai turned their heads and looked back, but without checking its speed or swerving, the car dashed on and disappeared dis-appeared down the roadway. She bent over Eaton and took hold of him. He struggled to his feet and, dazed, tottered so that she support ed him. As she realized that he waa not greatly hurt, she stared with horror hor-ror at the turn in the road where the car had disappeared. "Why, he tried to run you down He meant tol He tried to hurt you.1" she cried. "No," Eaton denied. "Oh, no, 1 don't think so. It must have been i an accident He was frightened when he saw what he had done." "It wasn't at all like an accident I" she persisted. "It couldn't have been an accident there and coming up from behind the way he did I No ; he meant to do it I Did you see who was in thi ear who was driving?" He turned to her quickly. "Who?" he demanded. "One of the people who was on the train ! The morning Father was hurt Don't you remember a little man, nervous, but very strong; a man almost al-most like an ape?" He shuddered and then controlled himself. "Yes, I remember a fellow the conductor tried to seat me opposite.' oppo-site.' "This was the same man I" Eaton shook his head. "That could hardly be ; I think you must be mistaken." mis-taken." "I am not mistaken; it wag that man 1" "Still, I think you must be," he again denied. She stared, studying him. "Perhaps I was," she agreed ; but she knew shs had not been. "I am glad, whoever it was, he didn't Injure you. You arc all right aren't you?" "Quite," he assured. "Please don't trouble about It Miss Santolne." They walked back rather silently, she appreciating how passionately she had expressed herself for him, and he quiet because of this and other thoughts too. They foupd Donald Avery in front of the house looking for them as they came up. Eaton succeeded in walking walk-ing without limping; but he could not conceal the marks on his clothes. "Harriet I've Just come from your father; he wants you to go to him at once," Avery directed. "Good morning Eaton. What's happened ?" "Carelessness," Eaton deprecated, "Got rather in the way of a motoi and was knocked over for it" Harriet did not correct this tfl Avery. She went up to her father; she was still trembling, still sick with norror at wnat sne naa seem an attempt to kill one walking at hei side. She stopped outside her father's fa-ther's door to compose herself; then she went In, The blind man wai propped up on his bed with pillow into almost a sitting position; the nurse waa with him. "What did you want Father?" Harriet Har-riet asked. He had recognized her step and had been about to speak to her; but at the sound of her voice he stopped the words on his Hps and changed them Into a direction for the nurse to leave the room. He waited until the nurse had left and closed the door behind her. Harriet Har-riet saw that, in his familiarity with her tones and every Inflection of her voice, he had sensed already that something unusual had occurred ; she repeated, however, her question ai to what he wanted. "That does not matter now, Harriet. Har-riet. Where have you been?" "I have been walking with Mr. Eaton." "What happened?" She hesitated. "Mr. Eaton was almost al-most run down by a motorcar." "Ah! An accident?" She hesitated again. "Mr. Eaton said It was an accident" she answered. an-swered. "But you?" "It did not look like an accident Father. It It showed Intention." "You mean It was an attack?" "Yes ; it was an attack. The man la the car meant to run Mr. Eaton down ; he meant to kill him or to hurt him terribly. Mr. Eaton wasn't hurt I called to him and pulled him he Jumped away In tinne." I - "The attack made on me was meant for you." (TO BE CONTINUED.) |