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Show j . .The Branding Iron I o B13 Katharine NeujUn Burt Copyright b KtWin N. Burt 1 , , ' 1 1 1 1 1 to falter as though the sensitive mind I of the crowd was already aware that here something must be wrong. "She ! came very slowly, her arms hanging, her head bent, her yes looking up from under her brows, and she stood beside Prosper Gael, whose forced smile bad stiffened on his lips. He looked at her In obvious fear, as a man might look at a dangerous madwoman. mad-woman. There must have been madness mad-ness In her eyes. She stood there for a strange, terrible moment, moving her head slightly from side to side. Then she said something in a very low tone. Because of the extraordinary carrying quality of her voice the question was heard by everyone there present : "You wrote the playT Ton wrote the play?" She said It twice. She seemed to quiver, to gather herself together, her hands bent, her arms lifted. She flew at Prosper with all the sudden strength of her Insanity. There was an outcry, a confusion. People rushed to Gael's assistance. Men caught hold of Joan, now struggling strug-gling frantically. It was a dreadful sight, mercifully a brief one. She collapsed utterly, fell forward, the strap of her gown breaking In the grasp of one of the men who held her. For an Instant everyone In the audience audi-ence saw a strange double scar that ran across her shoulder to the edge of the shoulder-blade. It was like two bars. Pierre got to his feet, dropped back, and hid his face. Then he was up, and struggling past excited people down the row, out Into the aisle, along It, hurrying blindly down unknown passages pas-sages till somehow he got himself Into that confused labyrinth behind the scenes. Here a pale, distracted scene-shifter scene-shifter Informed hlra that Miss West had already been taken home. Pierre got the address, found his way out to the street, hailed a taxlcab and threw himself Into It. He sat forward, for-ward, every muscle tight ; he felt that he could take the taxlcab up and hurl It forward, so terrible was his impatience. impa-tience. An apartment house was a greater novelty to him even than a theater, but, after a dazed moment of dlscov- that he was aware of her scrutiny. His eyes looked through his surround lngs to Joun. lie saw her In every pose and In every look In which he had ever seen her, and, with a very sick and frightened heart, he saw her, at the last, pass by him In her fur coat, throwing him that half-contemptuous look and smile. She didn't know him. Was he changed so greatly? great-ly? Or was the change In her so enormous enor-mous that It had disassociated her completely from her old life, from him? He kept repeating to himself HolHwell's stern, admonishing speech: "However changed for the worse she may be when you do find her, Pierre, you must remember that It Is your fault, your sin. You must not Judge her, must not dare to Judge her. Judge yourself. Condemn yourself. It Is for her to forgive If she can bring herself her-self to do It." So now Pierre fought down his suspicions sus-picions and his fears. He had not recognized Prosper. The man who had come in out of the white night, four years ago, had worn his cap low over his eyes, his collar turned up about his face, and, even at that, Pierre, In his drunken stupor, had not been able to see hlra very clearly. Tills Prosper Gael who had stood behind be-hind the footlights, this Prosper Gael at whom Joan, for some unknown cause, had sprung like a woman maddened mad-dened by injury, wos a person entirely strange to Pierre. But Pierre hated him. The man had done Joan some Insufferable mischief, which at the last had driven her beside herself. Pierre put up a hand, pressing it against his eyes. He wanted to shut out the picture of that struggling girl with her torn dress and the double scar across her shoulder. If It hadn't been for the scar he would never have known her his Joan, his gentle, silent Joan I What had they been doing to her to change her so? No, not they. He. ne had changed her. He had branded her and driven her out It was his fault. He must try to find her again, to find the old Joan If she should live. The doctor had said that she was desperately ill. O God I What was keeping him so long? Why didn't he come? The arrival of the trained nurse distracted rierrs for a few moments. She went past him In her gray cloak, very quiet and earnest, and the elevator ele-vator lifted ber out of sight CHAPTER XI Continued. 24 That was the sort of night he had spent and the next day he passed In a lethargy. He had no heart to fnce the future now that the great purpose of his life had failed. HolHwell's God of comfort and forgiveness forsook him. What did he want with a Ood when thaf one comrade of his lonely, young, human life was out there lost by his own cruelty 1 Perhnps she was dead. Perhaps the wound had killed her. For all these years she might have been lying dead somewhere In the snow, under the sky. Sharp periods pe-riods of pain followed dull periods of stupor. I'ow it was night again and a recollection of Jasper's theater ticket had dragged him to a vague purpose, ne wanted to see again that woman who hnd so vivified his memory of Joan. It would be hateful to see her again, but he wanted the pain. He dressed and groomed himself carefully. care-fully. Then, feeling a little faint he went out Into the clattering, glaring night Pierre's experience of theater-going was exceedingly small. . He had never been In so large a playhouse as this one of Morena's; he had never seen so large and well-dressed an audience ; never heard a full and well-trained orchestra. or-chestra. In spite of himself, he began to be distracted, excited, stlrredv When the curtain rose on the beautiful beauti-ful tropical scene, the lush lslnnd, the turquoise sea, the realistic strip of golden sand, Pierre gave an audible oath of admiration and surprise. The people about him began to be amused by the excitement of this handsome, haggard young man, so graceful and intense, so different with his hardness and leanness, the brilliance of his eyes, the brownncss of his skin. His clothes jwere good enough, but they fitted him with an odd air of disguise. An experienced experi-enced eye would Inevitably have seen the appropriateness of flannel shirt, fay silk neck-handkerchief, boots, spurs and chaparreras. Pierre was entirely unaware of being Interesting or different differ-ent At thut moment, cuught up In the action of the play, he was as outside out-side of himself as a child. The palms of stage-land stirred, the ferns swayed ; between their tall, vivid greenness enme Joan with her tread and grace and watchful eyes of a leopardess, leop-ardess, her loose, wild hair decked with flowers: these and her make-up and her thinness disguised her completely com-pletely from Pierre, but again his heart came to his throat and, when she put her hands up to her mouth end called, his pulses gave a leap. He shut his eyes. He remembered a voice calling him In to supper. "Pi-errel Pi erre!" He could sniff the smoke of his cabin Ore. He opened his eyes. Of course she wasn't Joan, this strange, gaunt creature. Besides, his wife could never have done what this woman was doing. Why. Joan couldn't talk like this, she couldn't act to save her soul! She was as simple as a child, and shy, with the unself-conscious unself-conscious shyness of wild things. To be sure, this "actress-lady" was making mak-ing believe she was a wild thing, and she was doing it almighty well, but Jonn had be the reality, and grave and still, part of his own big, grave mountain country, not a fierce, mnn-devourlng mnn-devourlng animal of the tropics. Tlerre lived In the play with all but one fragment frag-ment of his brain, and that remembered remem-bered Joan. It hurt like a hot coal, but he deliberately Ignored the pain of It He followed the action breathlessly, "Were you in the theater tonight V asked the girl at the desk, seeing that he was temporarily aware of her again. "Yes, ma'am." She was puzzled by his appearance and the fashion of his speech. He must be a gentleman, she thought, for his bearing was gentle and assured and un8elf-conscious, but he wore his clothes differently and spoke differently differ-ently from other gentlemen. Thnt "Yes, ma'am," especially disturbed dis-turbed her. Then she remembered a novel she had read and her mind Jumped to a conclusion. She leaned -aS'Ki lit WW forward. "Say, aren't you from the West?" "Yes, ma'am." "You weren't ever a cowboy, were you?" Pierre smiled. "Yes, ma'am. I was raised In a cow-camp. I was a cowboy till about seven years ago when I took to rnnchln'." "Where was that?" "Out In Wyoming." "And you've come straight from there to New York?" She pronounced' It "Noo Yolk." ' "No, ma'am. I've been In Alasky foi two years now. I've been In a lumber, camp." "Gee! That's real Interesting. Am , you knew Miss West before she csmi East, then?" " "Yes, ma'om." But there was a sub8, tie change In Pierre's patient volC'! and clear, unhappy eyes, so that th4 girl fell to humming and bottled ui her curiosity. But Just as soon as h began to brood ogaln she gave up heis whole mind to staring at him. Geef' He was brown and strong and thin'' And a good-looker! She wished tha5, she hnd worn her transformation tha8, evening and her blue blouse. II c' might have taken more Interest In hei A stout, bald-headed man, bag I band, stepped out of the elevator, an Pierre rippled to his feet. ed "Are you the doctor?" 0f "Yes. Oh, you're the gentleman wle( wanted to see Miss WeNt. She's con to, but she la out of her head eoin-( pletely . . . doesn't know anyone., Can yon step out with me?" j '(TO FSB CONTINUED.) j spplnuded with contagious fervor, surreptitiously sur-reptitiously rid himself of teors, and (when, in the lust scene, the angry, Jealous Jeal-ous woman sprang upon her tamer, he innttered, "Serve you right, you coyote!" coy-ote!" with an onth of the cow-comp that mnde one of his neighbors Jump land throttle a startled laugh. The curtain fell, and while the applause ap-plause rose and died down and rose again, and the people called for "Jane West! Jane West!" the stage-director, a plump little Jew, came nut behind be-hind the footlights and held up bis hnnd. There was a gradual silence. "I want to make an Interesting announcement," an-nouncement," he said; "the nutlmr of The Leopardess' has hitherto maintained main-tained his anonymity, but tnnluht I "Are You the Doctor7" erlng that he did not have to ring or knock, but Just push open the great Iron-scrolled door and step Into the brightly lighted, steam-heated marble hall, he decided that the woman at the desk was a person In authority, and to her he addressed himself, soft hut gripped in his luinil, his face set to hide excitement. The girl was pale and red-eyed. They hnd brought Miss West In a few minutes ago, she told him, and carried car-ried her up. She was still unconscious; uncon-scious; poor thing! "I don't think you could see her, sir. Mr. Morena Is up there, and Mr. Gael, and a doctor. A trained nurse has been sent for. Everything In the world will be done. She's such nn elegant actress, ain't she? I've often seen her myself. And so kind and pleasant alwnys. Yes, sir. I'll ask, If you like, but I'm sure they won't allow you up." She put the receiver to her enr, pushed In the black plug, and Pierre listened to her questions. "Can Miss West see anyone? Cim nn old friend" for so Pierre hnd named himself "be allowed to see her? No. I thought not." This, with a sympathetic glance at Pierre. "She Is not conscious yet. Dangerously 111." "Could I speak to the doctor?" Pierre asked hoarsely. "The gentleman wants to know If he can speak to the doctor. Certainly not nt present. If he will wait, the doctor will speak to him on the way out. I'lerre snt on the bench and waited. He leaned forward, elbows on knes, head crushed In both hands, and the Moinpn stared at him pitifully not have permission to give you his name. He Is In the theater tonight. The name Is already familiar to yon us that of the author of a popular novel, The Cnnyon': Prosper Gael." There was a stir of Interest, s general gen-eral searching of the house, chipping, 'cries of "Author! Author!" and In a few moments Prosper Gael left his box and appeared beside the director in answer to the calls. He was en-' tlrely self-possessed, looked even a little bored, but he was very white. He stood there bowing, a graceful and attractive figure, and lie was about to begin a speech when he was Interrupted Interrupt-ed by a renewed calling for "Jane West!" The audience wanted lo see the star and the author side by side. Pierre Joined In the clamor. After a little pause Jane West came ,mt from the opposite wing, walking slowly, dressed In ' er green gown. Jewels on her neck and In her hair. Bhv did not look toward the audience audi-ence nt all, nor bow. nor smile, ami fer some sson tha applause began |