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Show G Grace Livirvgstorv Hill Lufz AUTHOR f"i1ARQA SCflUYLElR," "PrtOrBf DLAni" "DAWJi Of THf MORNING" ETC. ILLUSTRATIONS 6y 7fM (VAtTixf SYNOPSIS. Tywon Dunham, just alighted from a train, i approached by a beautiful girl who asks bis protection. She ia in fear of pursuit, but declines to give the cause of her distress. Dunham takes her to his home and in the absence of his mother moth-er and sister borrows a -hat and a cloak for her. He takes her to a dinner party at the home of a friend and gives her name as Mary Remington. Her actions stamp her as a girl of refinement and breeding. After the dinner she requests Dunham to assist her to leave the city. He puts her on a train for Chicago and supplies her with money. Dunham hag becorr,e intensely hitereted Jn the girl and Sinvlnu to solve the fhystery which S'trrrtJTFflas her. Stories in the newspapers of missing girls only add to his bewilderment. bewilder-ment. Arrived in Chicago the girl buys ome cheap clothing in an attempt &t dhiguise and gtarts out to peek employment. employ-ment. She gets brk as a waitress Tr. the hpnie of Mrs. Rhlnehart. Dunh&m receives a package containing the b&r-'rowed b&r-'rowed hat and cloak with a note of thanks signed "Mary." Dunham goes to Chicago on legal business and exerts every ev-ery effort to find "Mary." He is Invited to the home of a friend for dinner. Ac he approaches the house he hears a m&n giving directions to a shabbily dressed Individual In-dividual regarding some one who goa under the name of "Mary." He recognizes recog-nizes in the waitress at the dinner table the much sought "Mary," and arranges for an interview with her the following day at the Y. W. C. A. He proposes to her, but before she will give her answer she insists on telling him her story. Her uncle had died leaving her his fortune. A cousin who had been disinherited, had plotted to place her in an insane asylum so that he might get control of her money. CHAPTER Xv Continued. "I could scarcely believe my ears at first. It seemed to me that I must be mistaken, that they could not be talking talk-ing about me. But my name was mentioned men-tioned again and again, and as each link In the horrible plot was made plain to me, my terror grew so great that I was on the verge of rushing into the car and calling for the conductor con-ductor and porter !to help me. But something held me still, and I heard Richard say that he had just informed inform-ed the trainmen that I was insane, and that they need not be surprised If I had to be restrained. "I sat still, hardly daring to breathe. Then I began to go over the story bit by bit, and to put together little things that had happened since we landed, and even before I had left Vienna; and I saw that I was caught in a trap. It would be no use to appeal ap-peal to any one, for no one would be-lieve be-lieve me. "I watched the names of the stations as they, flew by, but it gradually grew dark, and I could hardly make them out. I thought one looked like the name of a Philadelphia Buburb, but I could not be sure. "I was freezing with horror and with cold, but did not dare to mo.ve, lest attract their attention. "We began to rush past rows of houses, and I knew we were approaching approach-ing a city. Then, suddenly, the train slowed down and stopped, with very little warning, as if it Intended to halt only a second and then hurry on. "There was a platform on one side of the train, but we were out beyond the car-shed, for our train was long. I could not climb over the rail to the platform, for I was sitting on the side away from the station, and would have bad to pass the car oor In order to do so. I should be sure to be seen. "On the other side were a great many tracks separated by strong picket fences as high aB the car platform plat-form and close to th trains, and they reached as far as I could see in either direction. I had no time to think, and Went to the Matron and Told Her. there was nothing I could do but climb over the rail and get across those tracks and fences somehow. "My hand were so cold and trem bling that I could scarcely hold on to the rail as I Jumped over. "I cannot remember how I got across. Twice I had to cling to a fence while an express train rushed by, and the shock and noise almost stunned me. It was a miracle that I was not killed, but I did not think of that uutil afterwards. I was con9ciou6 only of the train I had left standing by the station. I glanced back once, and I thought I saw Richard come to the door of the car. Then I stumbled on blindly. I don't remember any more until I found myself hurrying along that dark passage under the bridge and saw you Just ahead. I was afraid to speak to you, but I did not know I what else to do, and you were bo good to me !" Her voice broke in a little Bob. All the time she had been talking he had held her hand firmly. She had forgotten that any one might be watching; watch-ing; he did not care. The tall girl with the discontented upper lip went to the matron and told her that she thought the man and the woman in the parlor ought to be made to go. She believed the man was trying try-ing to coax the girl to do something she didn't want to do. The matron started on a voyage discovery up the hall and down again, with penetrating pene-trating glanceB into the room, but the two did not see her. "Oh, my poor dear little girl!" breathed the man. "And you have passed through all this awful experience experi-ence alone! I shall not feel safe until un-til you belong to me. I saw two men hanging about Mr. Ph'llip's house last evening as I went in. They were looking up at the windows, and talking talk-ing about keeping a close watch on some one named Mary. The girl looked up with frightened eyes and grasped the arms of her chair excitedly, i "Will you go with me now to a church not far away, where a friend of mine is the pastor, and be married? Then -we can defy all the cousins in creation. Can't you trust me?" he pleaded. "Oh, yes, but " "Is it that you do not love me?" "No," she said, and her eyes drooped shyly. "It seems strange that I dare to say it to you when I have known you so little." "Where is the 'but' then, dear? Shall we go now?" "How can I go in this dress?" She looked down at her shabby shoes, rough black gown, and cheap gloves in dismay, and a soft pink stole into her face. "You need not. Your own gown Is out in the office In my suit-case. I brought it with me, thinking you might need it hoping you might, I mean;" and he smiled. "I have kept it always near me; partly because I wanted the comfort of it, partly because I was afraid some one else might find it, and desecrate our secret with their common-place wondering." It was at this moment that the matron ma-tron of the building stepped up to the absorbed couple, restifved to do her duty. Her Hps were pursed to their thinnest, and displeasure was in her face. The young man arose and asked in a grave tone: "Excuse me, but can you tell me whether this lady can get a room here to rest for a short time, while I go out and attend to a matter of business?" busi-ness?" The matron noticed his refined face and true eyes, and she accepted with a good grace the ten-dollar bill he handed hand-ed to her. "We charge only fifty cents a night for a room," she said, glancing at the humble garments of the man's companion. com-panion. She thought the girl must be a poor dependent or a country relative. "That's all right," said the young man. . "Just let 1 the change help the good work along." , That made a distinct change in the atmosphere. The matron smiled, and retired to snub the girl with the discontented dis-contented upper lip. Then she sent the elevator boy to carry the girl's BUit-case. As the matron came back to the office, a baggy man with cushioned cush-ioned tires hustled out of the open door Into the Btreet, having first cast back a keen, furtive glance that searched every corner of the place. "Now," said Dunham reassuringly, as the matron disappeared, "you can go up to your room and get ready, and I will look after a few little matterB. The elevator boy appeared in the doorway with the familiar suit-case. "Don't be afraid, dear heart," whispered whis-pered the young man, as he attended her to the elevator. "I'll soon he back again, and then, then, we Bhall be together!" to-gether!" It was a large front room to whkhj the boy took her. The ten-dollar bill had proven effective. It was not a "fifty-cents-a-night" rocm. Some one some guest or kindly patron had put a small illuminated text upon the wall in a neat frame. It met her eye as she entered "Rejoice and be glad." Just a common little picture card, it was, with a phrase that has become trite to many, yet it seemed a message to her, and her heart leaped to obey. She went to the window to catch a glimpse of the man who would soon be her husband, but he was not there, and the hurrying people reminded her that she must hasten. Across the street a slouching figure in a baggy coat looked fixedly up and caught her glance. She trembled and drew back out of the sunshine, remembering what Dunham had told her about the Irishman of the night before. With a quick instinct, she drew down the shade, and locked her door. CHAPTER XI. The rubbered feet across the way hurried their owner into the cigar-store cigar-store In front of which he had been standing, and where he had a good I view of tb.; T. W. C. A. Building. H fiung down some change and demanded demand-ed the use of the telephone. Then, with one eye on the opposite doorway, he called up a number and delivered, his message. "Oi've treed me bird. She's In a room all roight at the Y. W. C. A. place, fer I seed her at the winder. She come with a foine gint)emin, but he's gahn now, an1 she's loike lo stay a spell. You'd best come at once. . . . All roight. Hurry up!" He hun up the telsphone receiver and hurried back to his post in front of the big entrance. Meanwhile the bride-elect upstairs, with happy heart and trembling trem-bling fingers, was putting on her own beautiful garments once more, and arranging ar-ranging the waves of lovely hair in their old accustomed way. Tyron Dunham's plans were well laid. He first called up his friend the minister and told him to be ready; then a florist not far from the church; then a large department store where he had spent some time that morning. "Is that Mr. Hunter, head of the fur department? Mr. Hunter, this is Mr. Dunham. You remember our conversation conver-sation this morning? Kindly send the coat and hat I selected to the Y. W. C, A. Building at once. Yes, Just send them to the office. You remember it was to be C. O. D., and I showed you my certified check this morning. It's all right, is it? How long will it take you to get it there? . . . All right. Have the boy wait if I'm not there. Good-by." His next move was to order a carriage, car-riage, and have it stop at the florist's on the way. That done, he consulted his watch. Seventeen minutes of his precious half-hour were gone. With nervous haste he went into a telephone tele-phone booth and called up his own home on the long-distance. To his relief, hiB mother answered. "And, Mother, Don't Worry." "Is that you, Mother? This is Tryon. Are you all well? That's good. Yes, I'm in Chicago, but will soon be home. Mother, I've something to tell you that may startle you, though there is nothing to make you sad. You have known that there was something on my mind for some time." He paused for the murmur of assent He knew how his mother was looking, look-ing, even though he could not see her - that set look of being ready for anything. any-thing. He wanted to spare her as much as possible, so he hastened on: "You remember speaking to me about the ring I. wore?" "Tyron! Are you engaged?" There was a sharp anxiety in 'the tone as it same through the hundreds of miles of space. "One better, Mother. I'm just about to be married!" "My son! What have you done? Don't forget the honorable name you bear!" "No, Mother, I don't forget. She's fine and beautiful and sweet. You will love her, and our world will fall at her feet!" "But who Is she? You must remember remem-ber that love 1b very blind. Tryon, you must come home at once. I shall die If you disgrace us all. Don't do anything to spoil our lives. I know it is something dreadful, or you would not do It in such haste." "Nothing of the kind, Mother. Can't j you trust me? Let me explain. She Is alone, and legal circumstances which It would take too long for me to explain over the 'phone have made it I desirable for her to have my immediate immedi-ate protection. We are going at once to Edwin Twinell's church, and he ' will marry us. It 1b all arranged, but j I felt that you ought to be told beforehand. before-hand. We shall probably take the I night express for home. Tell Cornelia I T ' - " -, that I shall expect congratulations telegraphed to the hotel here inside of two hours." "But, Tryon, what will our friends think? It is most extraordinary! How can you manage about announcements?" announce-ments?" J "Bother the red tape, Mother! What difference does that make? Put it in the society column if you want to." "But, Tryon, we do not want to be conspicuous!" "Well, Mother I'm not going to put pfl my wedding at the last minute for a matter of some bits of pasteboard. I'll do any reasonable thing to pleasa ' you, but not that." J "Couldn't you get a chaperon for her, and bring her on to me? Then we could plan the wedding at our leisure." leis-ure." "Impossible, Mother! In the first place, she never would consent. Really, Real-ly, I cannot talk any more about it. I must go at once, or I shall be late. Tell me you will love her for my sake, until you love her for her own." "Tryon, you always were unreasonable. unreasona-ble. Suppose you have the cards engraved en-graved at once, and I will telegraph our list to the engraver if you will give me his address. If you prefer, you can get them engraved and sent out from there. That will keep tongues still." "All right, I'll do it. I'll have the engraver telegraph his address to you within two hours. Have your list ready. And, Mother, don't worry. She's all right. You couldn't have chosen better yourself. Say you will love her, Mother dear." "Oh, I suppose I'll try," sighed the wires disconsolately; "but I never thought you would be married in such a way. Why, you haven't even told me who she is." "She's all right, Mother good family fam-ily and all. I really must hurry " "But what is her name, Tryon?" "Say, Mother, I really must go. Ask Mrs. Parker Bowman what she thinks of her. Good-by f Cheer up, it'll be all right." "But, Tryon, her name " The receiver was hung up with a click, and Dunham looked at his watch nervously. In the meantime, the girl had slipped into her own garments once more with a relief and joy she could scarcely believe be-lieve were her own. Had it all been an ugly dream, this life she had been living for the past few months, and was she going back now to rest and peace and . real life? Nay, not going back, but going forward. A knock at the door brought her back to realities again. Her heart throbbed wildly. Had he come back to her already? Or had her enemy found her out at last? Tryon Dunham hurried up the steps of the Y. W. C. A. builling, nearly I knocking over a baggy individual in ;' rubbers, who was lurking in the en- I trance. The young man had seen a j boy in uniform, laden with two enor- J mous boxes, run up the steps as he turned the last corner. Hastily writing writ-ing a few lines on one of his cards and slipping it into the largest box, he sent them both up to the girl's room. Then he sauntered to the door to see if the carriage had come. It was there. He glanced inside to see if his orders about flowers had been fulfilled, and spoke a few words of direction to the driver. Turning back to cJ.s door, he found the small, red eyes of the lvvggy Irishman fixed upon him. Something in the slouch of the figure reminded Dunham strongly now of the man ho had noticed the night before, and as he went back into the building hci looked the man over well and determined deter-mined to watch him. As he sat In the office waiting, twice he saw the bleary eyes of the baggy man applied to the glass panes in the front door and as suddenly withdraw. It irritated him, and finally he strode to the door and asked the man if he were looking for some one. ' , ' "Just waitin' fer me sweetheart," whined the man, with a cringing attitude. atti-tude. "She has a room in here, an' I saw her go in a while back." "Well, you'd better move on. They don't care to have people hanging a-round here." Upstairs the girl had dared to open her door and had been relieved to find the elevator boy there with the two boxes. "The i ntleman's below, an' he says he'll wait, an' he sent these up," said the boy, depositing his burden and hurrying away. She locked her door once more, for somehow a great fear had stolen over her now that she was again dresHed In her own garments and could be easily recognized. (TO BE CON-TINTED.) ii i.ii f ! W ri , .mi |