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Show BlindMai Eye BY WIIIJAM MacHARG EDWIN BALMErL Illustrations by R.H. Livingstone J orrpioHT iY Lrm r., bbowm, and Compaq J "DESCRIBE HIM" Gabrlol Warili-n, Ht-attle capltal-iHt, capltal-iHt, lulls his Ijutli-r tie 1h expf'ting a cullor, to bo itlinUt'-l without fiueatlun. Ha inforniH hLi wlro of (huiKitr that t.iri.-;Uciis him If he pur:uen a coiirwe he conHlih-rs the only honorable on. Warden Iwivc-B the hjuso In hiH cur and meets a man ft horn he tiikca Into the machine. ma-chine. When tho car rturnj home. Warden Is found ilra'l, murdered, and Kliine. The cnllor, a young man, h.is been at Warden'8 house, Lut k.V'8 unobserved. Hob Country, Cou-ntry, condui tor, retelves orders to hold train for a party. Five men and a t'trl hoard the train, the eantern express. The father of the Klrl, Mr. Dorno, is ttie person for whom the train was held. I'hlllo D. Katon, a young man. also boarded the train. Lorne tells his daughter and his Hecreiary, lJon Avery to Hml out what they can concerning hltn. The two make Katon s acquaintance. Dorne la found nearly dead from a murderous murder-ous Renault. A surKeon operates. Dorne In revealed as ilasll Han-tnlne, Han-tnlne, blind, and a power In the Ilnanc al world as the adviser of "biff Interests." Katon la suspected and q jostloned. lie refuses Infor-J matlov. about himself and admits net waa t.e caller at Warden's house. IX ! CHAPTER VIII Continued. ICnfon hud sensed itlrcutly whtit the nntttro f tlie niessajte must be, lliounh La tlie conductor lield It out to hint !ie could rend only Ills name nt tlie top of the sheet and did not know jrt wlm t the actual wording w as lu'low. Accept mice of It must meiui arrest, indictment for the crime wjjiuiist Itnsil Santoine; and tlnit, whether or not he later was acquitted, ac-quitted, must destroy him; hut denial of tlie laessaye uow would be hopeless. hope-less. "It Is yours, Isn't It?" Connery lifted. "lea; It's mine," Eaton ndmlttod; iml to make his acceptance definite, he tool; I he paper from Connery. As he looked dully down at It, he read : "Ho Is on your train under the name of Porne." Tlie message was not signed. Co.inery touched him on tlie shoulder. shoul-der. "Come with me, Mr. Eaton." Enton got up slowly and mechan ically and followed the conductor. At tlie door he halted and looked bnck; Itatvlet Santoine was not looking ; her face was covered with her hands ; Kato.i hesitated; then he went on. Connevy threw open the door of the compartment next to the washroom and corresponding to the drawing rooni at the other end of the ear, but smaller. "You'll do well enough In here." He (jjosetl the door upon Eaton and locked It. As Eaton stood staring at the floor, he could hear through the metal partition of the washroom the nervous, almost hysterical weeping of an overstrained girl. The thing was done; In so far as the authorities on the tJulu were concerned, It was known that he was the man who had had the appointment with Gabriel "Warden and had disappeared ; and in so far as the train officials could act, he wm accused and confined for tlie attack upon Basil Santoine. But besides be-sides telng overwhelmed with the horror hor-ror ol this position, the manner In which he had been accused had roused him to helpless anger, to rage : t his accusers which still increased as he heard the sounds on the other side ol the partition, where Avery was now Srylng to silence Harriet Santoine San-toine and lead her away. CHAPTER IX The Blind Man's Eyes. At noon Connery came to his door, and behind Connery, Eaton saw Harriet Har-riet Santoine and Avery. Eaton Jutupk'd up, and as he saw the girl's pale face, the color left his own. "Miss Santoine has asked to speak to yon," Connery announced ; and he admitted Harriet Santoine and Avery, and himself remaining outside in the aisle, closed the door upon them. "How is your father?" Eaton asked the jrirl. "He seems just the same; at least, I can't see any change, Mr. Eaton." "Can Doctor Sinclair see any difference?" differ-ence?" Eaton asked. "Doctor Sinclair will not commit himself except to say that so far as tie can fell, the indications are favorable. favor-able. He seems to think " The girl choked ; hut when she went on, her blue eyes were very bright and her lips did not tremble. "Doctor Sinclair seems to think, Mr. Eaton, that Father Fa-ther was found just in time, and that whatever chance he has for recovery came from you. Sometimes Father had Insomnia and wouldn't get to sleep till late in the morning; so I and Mr. Avery too would have left him undisturbed until noon. Doctor Sinclair says that If he had been left as long bi that he would have had no chance al all for life." "He has a chance, then, now?" "Yes ; but we don't know how much. I I wanted you to know, Mr. Eaton, that I recognize that the chance Father Fa-ther may have came through you, and that I am trying to think of you as the one who gave him the chance." The warm blood flooded Eaton's face, and he bowed his head. She, then, was not wholly hostile to him; site had not been completely convinced con-vinced by Avery. Her eyes rested upon Eaton steadily; stead-ily; and while he had been appealing to her, a (lush had come to her cheeks and faded away and come again and again with her Impulses as he spoke. "If you didn't do It, why don't you help us?" she cried. "Help you?" "Yes; tell us who you are and what you are doing? Why did you tuke the train because Father was on It, If you didn't mean any harm to him? Why don't you tell us where you are going or where you have been or what you have been doing? Why can't you give the name of anybody you know or tell us of anyone who knows about you?" "I might ask you In return," Eaton said, "why you thought It worth while, Miss Santoine, to ask so much about myself when you first met me and before any of this had happened? Why were you curious about me?" "My father asked me to find out about you." "Why?" Harriet had reddened under Eaton's gaze. "You understand, Mr. Eaton, It was was entirely Impersonal with me. My father, being blind, Is obliged to use the eyes of others mine, for one; and he has Mr. Avery. He calls us his eyes, sometimes ; and it was only only because I had been commissioned com-missioned to find out about you that I was obliged to show so much curiosity." Harriet nrose, and Eaton got up as she did and stood as she went toward tho door. Avery hnd reached the door, holding hold-ing It open for her to go out. Suddenly Sudden-ly Eaton tore the handle from Avery's grasp, slammed the door shut upon him and braced his foot against it "Miss Santoine," he pleaded, his voice hoarse with his emotion, "for God's sake, make them think what they are doing before they make a public accusation against me before they charge me with tils to others not on this train! It will not be merely accusation they make against me it will be my sentence ! I shall be sentenced before I am tried condemned con-demned without a chance to defend myself! That is the reason I could not come forward after the murder of Mr. Warden. I could not have helped him or aided In the pursuit of his enemies If I had appeared; I merely would have been destroyed myself ! The only thing I could hope to accomplish has been In following my present course which, I swear to you, has no connection with the attack upon your father. What Mr. Avery and Connery are planning to do to me, they cannot undo. They will merely complete the outrage and injustice already done me of which Mr. Warden spoke to his wife and they will not help your father. For God's sake, keep them from going further !" Her color deepened, and for an Instant, In-stant, he thought he saw full belief in him growing in her eyes ; but If she Writ They Dashed the Door Open, Then could not accept the charge against him, neither could she consciously deny it, and the hands she had been pressing together suddenly dropped. 'T I'm afraid nothing I could say would have much effect on them, knowing as little about about you as I do!" They dashed the door open then silenced and overwhelmed him; and they took her from the room and left him alone again- But there was something left with him which they could not take away ; for In the moment he had stood alone with her and passionately pleading, something had passed between them he could give no name to It, but he knew that Harriet Santoine never could think of him again without a stirring of her pulses which drew her toward him. The following morning the relieving snowplows arrived from the East, and Eaton felt It was the beginning of the end for him. He watched from his window men struggling in the snow about the forward end of the train ; then the train moved forward past the shoveled and trampled snow where rock and pieces of the snowplow were piled beside the track stopped, waited ; finally It went on again and began to take up Its steady progress. The attack upon Santoine having taken place In Montana, Eaton thought that he would be turned over to the police somewhere within that state, and he expected It would be done at the first stop; but when the train slowed at Simons, he saw the town was nothing more than a little hamlet beside a side-track. They surely could not deliver him .to the village authorities here. It made no materinl difference to him, Eaton realized, whether the police po-lice took him in Montana or Chicago, Chi-cago, since In either case recognition recogni-tion of him would be certain in the end; but in Chicago this recognition must be lmmedlnte, complete, and utterly ut-terly convincing. The train was traveling steadily and faster than Its regular schedule; It evidently was running as a special, some other train taking the ordinary traffic; it halted now only at the largest cities. In the morning it crossed into Minnesota ; and in the late afternoon, slowing, it rolled Into some large city which Eaton knew must be Minneapolis or St. Paul. The car here was uncoupled from the train and picked up by a switch engine; as dusk fell, Eaton, peering out of his window, could see that they had been left lying In the railroad yards ; and about midnight, awakening in his berth, he realized that the car was still motionless. , He could account for this stoppage In their progress only by some change In the condition of Santoine. Was Santoine sinking, so that they no longer dared to travel? Was he, perhaps dead? No sounds came to him from the car to confirm Eaton in any conclusion con-clusion ; there was nothing to be learned from anyone outside the car. Eaton lay for a long time, listening for other sounds and wondering what was occurring or had occurred at the other end of his car. Toward morning he fell asleep. CHAPTER X ' Publicity Not Wanted. "Basil Santoine dying! Blind millionaire mil-lionaire lawyer taken ill on train I" The alarm of the cry came to answer Eaton's question early the next morning He threw up the curtain and saw a vagrant newsboy, evidently passing through the railroad yards to sell to the trainmen. Eaton, hailing hail-ing the boy put out his hand, for a paper. He spread the news-sheet before be-fore him and read that Santoine's condition con-dition was very low and becoming rapidly worse. But below, under a Montana date-line, Eaton saw it proclaimed pro-claimed that the blind millionaire was merely sick ; there was no suggestion anywhere of an attack. The paper stated only that Basil Santoine, returning re-turning from Seattle with his daughter daugh-ter and his secretary, Donald Avery, had been taken seriously ill upon a train which had been stalled for two days In the snow in Montana. The column ended with the statement that Mr. Santoine had passed through Minneapolis and gone on to Chicago under care of Dr. Douglas Sinclair. Eaton stared at the newspaper without with-out reading, after he saw that. He had not realized, until now that he was told that Harriet Santoine had gone for If her father had gone on, of course she was with him the extent ex-tent to which he had felt her fairness, fair-ness, almost her friendship to him. At least, he knew now that, since she had spoken to him after he was first ac cused of the attack on her father, he had not felt entirely deserted or friendless till now. But why, if Santoine had been taken away, or w-as dead or dying, had they left Eaton all night In the car in the yards? Since Santoine was dying, would there be any longer an object in concealing the fact that he had been murdered? He dressed and then paced back and forth the two or three steps his compartment allowed him. He stopped now and then to listen ; from outside came the noises of the yard ; but he made out no sound within the car. If it had been occupied as on the days previous, he must have heard some one coming to the washroom at his end. Was he alone in the car now, or had the customary moving about taken place before he awoke? Finally, to free himself from his nervous listening for sounds which never came, he picked up the paper again. He read : "The news of Mr. Santoine's visit of a week on the Coast, If not known already In great financial circles, is likely to prove interesting there. For years he has been the chief agent in keeping peace among some of the great conflicting interests, and more than once he has advised tlie declaring declar-ing of financial war when war seemed to him the correct solution. Thus, five years ago. when the violent death of Matthew Latron threatened to precipitate pre-cipitate trouble among western capitalists, Santoine kept order In what might very well become financial chain, If his recent rlsit to the Pacific coast waa not purely for personal reasons but was also to adjust antagonisms such as charged by Gabriel Warden before his death, the loss of Santoine at this time may precipitate troubles which, llvlug, his advice and Information might have been able to prevent." Having read and reread this long paragraph. Eaton thrust the sheet out the window. As he sat thinking, think-ing, with lips tight closed, he heard for the first time that morning footsteps foot-steps at his end of the car. The door of his compartment was unlocked un-locked and opened, and he saw Doctor Doc-tor Sinclair. "Mr. Santoine wants to speak to you," the surgeon announced quietly. This startling negation of all he imagined, unnerved Eaton. He started up, then sank back for better bet-ter composure. "Mr. Santoine is here, then?" "Here? Of course he's here?" "And he's conscious?" "He has been conscious for the better purt of two days. Didn't they tell you?" Eaton looked toward the window, breathing hard. " I heard the newsboys news-boys " Sinclair shrugged. "The papem print what they can get and In tne wny which seems most effective to them," was his only comment. The surgeon led Eaton to the door of the drawing room, showed him ha and left him. Harriet Santoine was sitting on the little lounge opposite the berth where Harriet Santoine Was Sitting on the Little Lounge Opposite tho Berth Where Her Father Lay. her father lay. She was watching the face of her father, and as Eaton stood in the door, he saw her lean forward and gently touch her father's hand ; then she turned and saw Eaton. "Here Is Mr. Eaton, Father," she said. "Sit down," Santoine directed. The blind man was very weak and must stay quite still ; and he recognized recog-nized It ; but he knew too that his strength was more than equal to the task of recovery, and he showed that he knew it. His mind and will were, obviously, at their full activity, and he had fully his sense of hearing. Harriet's Hps trembled as she turned to Eaton ; but she did not speak directly to him yet; It was Basil Santoine who suddenly inquired; "What is it they call you?" "My name Is Philip D. Eaton." Eaton realized as soon as he had spoken that both question and answer had been unnecessary, and Santoine had asked only to hear Eaton's voice. The blind man was silent for a moment, as he seemed to consider the voice and try again vainly to place It In his memories. Then he spoke to his daughter. "Describe him, Harriet" Harriet paled and flushed. "About thirty," she said, " under rather than over that. Six feet or a little more in height. Slender, but mtiscular and athletic. Skin and eyes clear and with a look of health. Complexion Com-plexion naturally rather fair, but darkened by being outdoors a good deal. Hair dark brown, straight and parted at the side. Smooth shaven. Eyes blue-gray, with straight lashes. Eyebrows straight and dark. Forehead Fore-head smooth, broad and intelligent. Nose straight and neither short nor long; nostrils delicate. Mouth straight with lips neither thin nor full. Chin neither square nor pointed, and without with-out a cleft. Face and head, in general, gen-eral, of oval Anglo-American type." "Go on," said Santoine. Harriet was breathing quickly. "Hands well shaped, strong but without with-out sign of manual labor; nails cared for but not polished. Gray business suit, new. Soft-bosomed shirt of plain design with soft cuffs. Medium-height Medium-height turn-down white linen collar. Four-in-hand tie, tied by himself. Black shoes. No Jewelry except watch-chain." "In general T' Santoine suggested. "In general, apparently well-edu-ated. well-bred. intelligent young American. Expression frank. Manner self-controlled and reserved. Seems sometimes younger than he must be, sometimes older. Something has happened at some time which has had a great effect and can't be forgotten." for-gotten." "I understand; of course Hugh! But you you're here! In his house!" (TO BE CONTINUED |