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Show TI CHARLES KLEIN V y ARTfflJlf H0RNBL0W ' V ILLUSTRATIONS BY RAY mi,TEl?$ COPYRIGHT, (909, BY O.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY SYNOPSIS. Howard Jeffries, banker's son, under the evil influence of Robert Underwood, fellow-student at Tale, leads a life of dissipation, dis-sipation, marries the daughter of a gambler gam-bler who died in prison, and is disowned by his father. He is out of work and In desperate straits. Underwood, who had once been engaged to Howard's stepmother, step-mother, Alicia, is apparently in prosperous prosper-ous circumstances. Taking advantage of his intimacy with Alicia, he becomes a 3ort of social highwayman. Discovering his true character. Alicia denies him the house. He sends her a note threatening suicide. Art dealers for whom lie acted as commissioner, demand an accounting. He cannot tnake good. Howard calls at bis apartments in an intoxicated condition condi-tion to request a loan of $2,000 to enable him to take up a business proposition. Underwood tells him he is in debt up to his eyes. Howard drinks himself into a maudlin condition, and goes to sleep on a divan. A caller 1b announced and Underwood Under-wood draws a screen around the drunken sleeper. Alicia enters. She demands a promise from Underwood that he will not take his life. He refuses unless she will renew her patronage. This she refuses, and takes her leave. Underwood kills himself. The report of the pistol awakens awa-kens Howard. He tlnds Underwood dead. Realizing his predicament he attempts to llee and is met by Underwood's valet. Howard is turned over to the police, fapt. Clinton, notorious for his brutal treatment of prisoners, puts Howard through the third degree, and finally gets an alleged confession from the harassed man. Annie, Howard's wife, declares her belief in her husband's innocence. CHAPTER XI. Continued. "Not this lady," said the boy. "The other lady. I think she said Jeffries, or .Jenkins, or something like that." The captain waved his hand toward the door. "That's all right go. We'll find her all right." The hoy went out and the captain turned round to Annie. "It'll be rather a pity if It isn't you," he said, with a suggestive smile. "How so?" she demanded. The captain laughed. "Well, you see, a woman always gets the jury mixed up. Nothing fools a man like a pretty face, and 12 times 1 is 12. You see if they quarreled about you your husband would stand some chance." Patronizingly he added, "Come, Mrs. Jeffries, you'd better bet-ter tell the truth and I can advise you who to go to." Annie drew herself up, and with dignity said: "Thanks. I'm going to the best lawyer law-yer I can get. Not one of those courtroom court-room politicians recommended by a police captain. I am going to Richard Brewster. He's the man. He'll soon get my husband out of the Tombs." Reflectively she added: "If my father had had Judge Brewster to defend him instead of a legal shark, he'd never have been railroaded to jail. He'd be alive to-day." Capt. Clinton guffawed loudly. The idea of ex-Judge Brewster taking the case seemed to amuse him hugely. "Brewster?" he laughed boisterously. boisterous-ly. "You'd never be able to get Brewster. Firstly, he's too expensive. Secondly, he's old man Jeffries' lawyer. law-yer. He wouldn't touch your case with a ten-foot pole. Besides," he added in a tone of contempt. "Brewster's "Brew-ster's no good in a case of this kind. He's a constitution lawyer one of them international fellers. He don't know nothing " "He's the only lawyer I want," she retorted determinedly. Then she went on: "Howard's folks must come to his ! rescue. They must stand by him I- they must " The captain grinned. "From what I hear," he said, "old man Jeffries won't raise a finger to save his scapegrace son from going to the chair. He's done with him for good and all." Chuckling aloud and talking to himself him-self rather than to his vis-a-vis, he muttered: "That alone will convince the jury. They'll argue that the hoy can't be much good if his own go back on him." Annie's eye flashed. "Precisely!" she exclaimed. "But his own won't go back on him. I'll see to it that they don't." Rising and turning toward the door, she asked: "Have you anything more to say to me, captain?" "No," replied the captain hesitatingly. hesitat-ingly. "You can go. Of course you'll be called later for the trial. You can see your husband in the Tombs when you wish." No man is so hard that he has not a soft spot somewhere. At heart Capt. Clinton was not an unkind man. Long service in the police force and a mistaken notion of the proper method of procedure in treating his prisoners had hardened him and made him brutal. Secretly he felt sorry for this plucky, energetic little woman who had such unbounded faith in her good-for-nothing husband, and was ready to fight all alone in his defense. Eyeing her with renewed interest, he demanded: "What are you going to do now?" Annie reached the door, and drawing draw-ing herself up to her full height, turned and said: "I'm going to undo all you have done, Capt. Clinton. I'm going to free my husband and prove his innocence before the whole world. I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I'll do it I'll fight you, captain, to the last ditch, and I'll rescue my poor husband from your clutches if it takes everything 1 possess in the world." Quickly she opened the door and disappeared. CHAPTER XII. The American dearly loves a sensation, sen-sation, and the bigger and more bloodcurdling blood-curdling it is the better. Nothing is more gratifying on arising in the morning and sitting down to partake of a daintily served breakfast than to glance hurriedly over the front page of one's favorite newspaper and see It covered with startling headlines. It matters little what has happened during dur-ing the night to shock the community, so long as it satisfies one's appetite for sensational news. It can be a fatal conflagration, a fearful railroad wreck, a gigantic bank robbery, a horrible hor-rible murder, or even a scandalous divorce case. All one asks is that it be something big, with column after column of harrowing details. The newspapers are fully aHve to what Is expected of them, hut it is not always easy to supply the demand. There are times when the metropolis languishes lan-guishes for news of any description. There are no disastrous fires, trains run without mishap, burglars go on a vacation, society leaders act with decorum de-corum in a word the city is deadly dull. Further consideration of the tariff remains the most thrilling topic the newspapers can find to write I about. The murder at the aristocratic As-truria, As-truria, therefore, was hailed by the editors as an unmixed Journalistic blessing, and they proceeded to play it up for all it was worth. All the features of a first-class sensation were present. The victim, Robert Underwood, Under-wood, was well known in society and a prominent art connoisseur. The place where the crime was committed was one of the most fashionable of New York's hostelries. The presumed assassin was a college man and the son of one of the most wealthy and influential of New York's citizens. True, this Howard Jeffries, the son, was a black sheep. He had been mixed up in all kinds of scandals before. be-fore. His own father had turned him out of doors, and he was married to a woman whose father died in prison. Could a better combination of circumstances cir-cumstances for a newspaper be conceived? con-ceived? The crime was discovered too late for the morning papers to make mention of it, hut the afternoon papers fired a broadside that shook the town. All the evening papers had big scare heads stretching across the entire front page, with pictures of the principals involved and long interviews inter-views with the coroner and Capt. Clinton. There seemed to be no doubt that the police had arrested the right man, and in all quarters of the city there was universal sympathy for Mr. Howard Jeffries, Sr. It was terrible to think that this splendid, upright man, whose whole career was without a single stain, who had served his country gallantly through the civil war, should have such disgrace brought upon him in his old age. Everything pointed to a speedy trial ; and quick conviction. Public indignation indigna-tion was aroused almost to a frenzy, and a loud clamor went up against the law's delay. Too many crimes of this nature, screamed the yellow press, had been allowed to sully the good name of the city. A fearful example ex-ample must be made, no matter what the standing and influence of the prisoner's pris-oner's family. Thus goaded on, the courts acted with promptness.! Taken before a magistrate, Howard' was at once committed to the Tombs to await trial, and the district attorney set to work impaneling a jury. Justice, he promised, would be swiftly done. One newspaper stated positively that the family would not interfere, but would abandon the scapegrace son to his richly deserved fate. Judge Brewster, the famous lawyer, it was said, had already al-ready been approached by the prisoner's prison-er's wife, but had declined to take the case. Banker Jeffries also was quoted as saying that the man under arrest was no longer a son of his. As one paper pointed out, it seemed a farce and a waste of money to have any trial at all. The assassin had not only been caught red-handed, but had actually confessed. Why waste time over a trial? True, one paper timidly suggested that it might have been a case of suicide. Robert Underwood's financial affairs, it went on to say, were in a critical condition, and the theory of suicide was borne out to some extent by an Interview with Dr. Bernstein, professor of psychology at one of the universities, who stated that he was by no means convinced of the prisoner's guilt, and hinted that the alleged confession might have been forced from him by the police, while in a hypnotic state. This theory, the-ory, belittling as it did their pet sensation, sen-sation, did not suit the policy of the yellow press, so the learned professor profes-sor at once became the target for editorial edi-torial attack. The sensation grew in importance as the day for the trial approached. All New York was agog with excitement. excite-ment. The handsome Jeffries mansion man-sion on Riverside drive was besieged by callers. The guides on the sightseeing sight-seeing coaches shouted through their megaphones: "That's the house where the murderer mur-derer of Robert Underwood lived." The immediate vicinity of the house the day that the crime was made public pub-lic was thronged with curious people. peo-ple. The blinds of the house were drawn down as if to shield the inmates in-mates from observation, but there were several cabs in front of the main entrance and passers by stopped on the sidewalk, pointing at the house. A number ot newspaper men stood in a group, gathering fresh material for the next edition. A reporter approached ap-proached rapidly from Broadway and joined his colleagues. "Well, boys," he said cheerily. "Anything "Any-thing doing? Say, my paper is going to have a bully story to-morrow! Complete Com-plete account by Underwood's valet. He tells how he caught (he murderer just as he was escaping from the apartment. We'll have pictures and everything. It's fine. Anything doing do-ing here?" he demanded. "N'aw," grunted the others in disgruntled dis-gruntled tones. "We saw the butler," said one reporter, re-porter, "and tried to get a story from him, but he flatly refused to talk. All he would say was that Howard Jeffries Jef-fries was nothing to the family, that his father didn't care a straw what became of him." "That's pretty tough!" exclaimed another reporter. "He's his son, after aft-er nil." "Oh, you don't know old Jeffries." chimed in a third. "When once he makes up his mind you might as well try to move a house." The afternoon was getting on; if their papers were to print anything more that day they must hasten downtown. down-town. "Let's make one more attempt to pet a talk out of the old man," suggested sug-gested one enterprising scribe. 1 "All right," cried the others in chorus. "You go ahead. We'll fol- ! low in a body and back you up." Passing through the front gate, they rang the bell, and after a brief parley par-ley were admitted to the house. They had hardly disappeared when a cab drove hurriedly up and stopped at the curb. A young woman, heavily veiled descended, paid the driver, and walked quickly through the gates toward the house. Annie tried to feel brave, but hei heart misgave her when she saw this splendid home with all its evidence ot wealth, culture and refinement. It was the first time she had ever entered Its gates, although. In a measure, she was entitled to look upon it as hei own home. Perhaps never so much as now she realized what a deep gull lay between her husband's family and herself. This was a world she had never known a world of opulence and luxury. She did not know how she had summoned up courage enough tc come. Yet there was no time to be lost. Immediate action was neces sary. Howard must have the best lawyers that money could procure Judge Brewster had been deaf to hei entreaties. He had declined to take the case. She had no money. How ard's father must come to his assistance. assist-ance. She would plead with him and insist that it was his duty to stand by his son. She wondered how he would receive her, If he would pul her out or be rude to her- He might tell the servants to shut the door in her face. Timidly she rang the bell The butler opened the door, and sum moning up all her courage, she asked: "Is Mr. Jeffries in?" To her utter amazement the butlei offered no objection to her entering Mistaking her for a woman reporter several of whom had already called that morning, he said: "Go right in the library, madam; the other newspaper folk are there.' She passed through the splendid re ception hall, marveling Inwardly al the beautiful statuary and pictures, no little intimidated at finding herself her-self amid such splendid surroundings On the left there was a door draped with handsome tapestry. "Right in there, miss," said the butler. 'She went in, and found herself in a room of noble proportions, the walls of which were lined with bookshelves filled with tomes in rich bindings. The light that entered through the stained-glass stained-glass windows cast a subdued half light, warm and rich in color, on the crimson plush furnishings. Near the heavy flat desk in the center of the room a tall, distinguished man was standing listening deprecatingly tc the half dozen reporters who were bombarding him with questions. As Annie entered the room she caught the words of his reply: "The yotmg man who has inherited my name has chosen his own path in life. I am grieved to say that his conduct con-duct at college, his marriage, has completely separated him from his family, and I have quite made up my mind that in no way or manner -can his family become identified with any steps he may take to escape the penalty pen-alty of his mad act. I am his father, and I suppose, under the circumstances, circum-stances, I ought to say something. But I have decided not to. I don't wish to give the American public any excuse ex-cuse to think that I am palliating or condoning his crime. Gentlemen, 1 wish you good-day." Annie, who had been listening intently, in-tently, at once saw her opportunity. Mr. Jeffries had taken no notice ol her presence, believing her to be a newspaper writer like the others. As the reporters took their departure and filed out of the room, she remained re-mained behind. As the last one disappeared disap-peared she turned to the banker and said: . "May I speak to you a moment?" He turned quickly and looked at her in surprise. For the first time he was conscious of her presence. Bowing Bow-ing courteously, he shook his head: "I am afraid I can do nothing for you madam as I've just explained to your confreres of the press." Annie looked up at him, and said boldly: "1 am not a reporter, Mr. Jeffries. 1 am your son's wife." The banker started back in amazement. amaze-ment. This woman, whom he had taken for a newspaper reporter, was an interloper, an imposter, the very last woman in the world whom he would have permitted to be admitted to his house. He considered that she, as much as anybody else, had contributed con-tributed to his son's ruin. Yet what could he do? She was there, and he was too much of a gentleman to have her turned out bodily. Wondering at his silence, she repeated softly: "I'm your son's wife, Mr. Jeffries." The banker looked at her a moment, mo-ment, as if taking her In from head to foot. Then he said coldly: "Madam, I have no son." He hesitated, hesi-tated, and added: "I don't recognize " She looked at him pleadingly. "Hut I want to speak to you, sir." Mr. Jeffries shook his head, and moved toward the door. "I repeat. I have nothing to say." Annie planted herself directly In his path. He could not reach the door unless he removed her forcibly. "Mr. Jeffries," she said earnestly, "please don't refuse to hear me please " (TO UK CO.VTIXUKIJ.) |