The Master Man
By Ruby M. Ayres
CHAPTER V
Michael laughed afterwards
when ho thought of the dismay
in Effie Bhackle’a face; for a
moment she stared at him open
mouthed, then she turned and
ran up stairs without another
word.
Michael followed Mr. Shackle
into the drawing room; he found
himself rather liking the old
man.
N He was honest and unaffected,
and unfeignedly glad to meet the
new owner of Clayton Wold.
“I knew your father, Mr.
Kolf,” he said. “I can’t say that
I knew him well, but we used to
pass the time of day when we
met. A very reserved gentle
man, if I may say so without of
fence—a man it was difficult to
make a friend of, so I’m told.”
“Yop knew Miss Rolf, too, so
▼our daughter tells me.” Mic
hael said. “I mean—Patricia.”
The old man nodded.
“Yes, we did—she used to
come here when she felt inclined.
I always keep open house for
people who care to take advan
tage of it. I like people, especi
ally young people, about the
place. Miss Rolf was a friend of
my daughter’s—very kind she
was to her, too, introducing her
to people who hadn’t taken any
notice of us, you know, and wo
men think a lot of a thing like
that. Effie was very fond of
Miss Rolf, I know, and I liked
her myself: a very handsome wo
man she is. I’m sorry we shan’t
be seeing so much of hei; in fu
ture, though we are glad to have
made your acquaintance instead,
sir.
Michael thanked him formal
ly.
“Miss Rolf is leaving this
neighborhood entirely to please
herself,” he said. “I have asked
her to stay, but she does not wish
it. I should be grateful if you
and Miss Shackle would try and
get her to change her mind.”
Mr. Shackle looked faintly
surprised.,
“I am not very likely to be
seeing her,” he said awkwardly,
“but if I do ... ” He broke off
as his wife and daughter enter
ed the room.
Mrs. Shackle was over-dressed
and over-coiffured; she gushed
over Michael, and thanked him
for his great kindness to her
“treasure” as she called Effie.
She urged him to stay to din
ner, but Michael refused; some
other time if ho might, he said—
he thought it would be rather a
good idea to call at the house'
while Patricia was there. After
a few moments desultory conver
sation, he said good-bye.
“Always pleased to see you
any time,” Mr. Shackle said as
they shook hands. He would
have followed Michael to the
door but his wife restrained him,
and Effie moved forward in
stead.
“I do think it was horrid of
you, Mr. Rolf, not to tell me who
you were,” she said pouting, as
they stood together by the car.
“Whatever must you think of
me for having chattered away so
much nonsencet”
Michael laughed shortly.
“The fact of my being who I
am does not influence my opin
ion one way or the other,” he
said with a sarcasm which she
entirely missed. “I think it was
kind of you to have so much con
fidence in me.”
“And you won’t tell Patricia
anything I said, will you?” she
urged. “Do promise me that.”
“I certainly will, if you will
promise me something in re
turn.”
She flushed with pleasure.
| “I will—oh, of course, I will.”
“Well, then, will you try and
persuade Patricia to stay, if not
in, at least somewhere near
Clayton Woldt You will have
plenty of opportunities I dare
aay while she is here, and I shall
be everlastingly obliged to you.
There was a little silence, then
Bffie said blankly:
“But Patricia ie not coming
here.”
It was Michael’s turn to look
amased.
“Not coming! Why she told
toe only this evening that she
was coming to you tomorrow to
stay indefinitely! She said how
kind you had been to her, and
that she was sure of a welcome.”
Effie's face changed subtly; a
•ort o$ shame filled her eyes.
“Oh, then she can’t have got
toy letter,” she said aghast.
“Ska was to have come, but
•Mae cousins of ours wired ask
0
ing if we could have them, as one
of their brothers was ill with
scarlet fever and the doctor said
they must go away; so I had to
put Patricia off, of course!' She
will get my letter early in the
morning, if sh has not had it to
night.”
Michael was very shrewd in
some ways ,and he knevf in
stinctively that this girl was not
speaking the truth. In- a flash
he remembered Patricia’s tears
and the letter she had picked up
from the grass so hurriedly when
he joined her, and his face hard
ened.
He did not believe in the story
of the cousins and the scarlet
fever; he believed it was all a
fabricated excuse to put Patricia
off; his blood boiled with anger
for her sake.
But he was not going to let
this girl see that he knew; he
answered smoothly that of
course Patricia would under
stand and sympathize, but he
> deliberately avoided shaking
hands with Effie as ne got into
the car and drove away.
How hateful women could be
to one another, he thought; no
wonder Patricia had cried, be
cause, of course, she had seen
through the paltry excuse as
well as he had been able to do.
v He admired her pride for not
having told him; he felt more
kindly towards her than ever be
fore, as he sped on towards Lon
don.
He was glad that chance had
introduced him to the Shackles;
he was glad that he had found
out this thing, and yet in a way
it made him ashamed of his own
part in the affair with Chesney.
He had wished to save his
friend, not to humiliate Patricia.
He made up his mind that to
morrow he would go down and
see her again and try once more
to patch up some sort of truce
between them. He was sorry
for her—in a way he even liked
her and admired her pride, but
it filled him with impatience be
cause he found her so difficult.
Why could she not be reason
able. Not one woman in ten
thousand would have refused the
offer he had made to her, he
was sure. ,
As for the Shackles, he shrug
ged his shoulders and dismissed
them from his mind. Patricia
had been wrong ever to make
friends with them; the old man
was the only one of the family
worth anything; Effie was an
empty-headed doll, and the
mother—well, one could not
seriously consider her.
It was past midnight when he
reached his rooms in town, and,
though the long drive had made
him tired, he hafdly slept at all.
The thought of Patricia wor
ried him, and he was glad when
morning came and he could start
activities again.
He went round to see Mr.
Philips and said that he was go
ing to alter his offer to Patricia.
“Five hundred a year isn’t
enough,” he said. “Make it a*
thousand, and tell her she can
choose her own house if she ob
jects to the Dower House.”
Mr. Philips shrugged his
shoulders. “I am afraid it will
be quite useless,” he said dryly.
“Miss Rolf is very determined.”
Michael thrust out his chin ob
stinately.
“So am I,” he said, and Miss
Rolf will have to give in to me.
I am going down to Clayton to
day to tell her so.”
Mr. Philips smiled. *
“Miss Rolf will not be at Clay
ton,” he said. “She leaves early
this morning to stay with some
friends of hers—the Shackles.”
“I know—she told me; hut
she won’t have gone. I met the
Shackles last night, and—by the
way, have' you ever met them,
Philips!”
“I know Mr. Shackle—a very
decent old chap I always found
him.”
“He is; but the wife and
daughter—” Michael told him in
a few words of his experience of
the previous night.
Mr. Philips listened sympa
thetically. He liked Michael and
knew perfectly well that he was
not happy in hia mind with re
gard to Patricia.
“I can’t understand how she
ever made friends with such peo
ple,” Michael said exasperated
ly
“I believe that she merely did
it because your father objected
j to .them so strongly,” Mr. Phil
I ips admitted reluctantly. “Ter
ribly self-willed, she always has
been. Why, I remember when
she was quite a child tha£* she
was warned not to play near the
mill stream at Clayton—you
know the mill stream of course,
and what a strong current there
was? WelJ, she went merely be
cause she was told not to, and
fell in. One of the men working
near got her out; half-drowned
she was. but not in the least re
pentant. Your father sent for
her and said he hoped she had
been taught a lesson by the
fright. ‘ wasn’t frightened,’
she said. 41 liked it.’ Now, what
can you do with a girl like
that?”
They both laughed.
“Well, I’m going to see her
again today, anyway,” Michael
said obstinately. “Hang it all,
it’s not very pleasant for me to
feel that I’ve turned her out of
Clayton and spoiled her life.”
44That’s rather an exaggera
tion, isn’t it?” Mr. Philips asked
smiling. “Miss Rolf will be al
right. She is one of those peo
ple who were born to be lucky.”
“I hope so, I’m sure,” Michael
said lugubriously. “I wish some
decent chap would come along
and marry her,” he added boy
ishly.
Mr. Philips looked surprised.
“I understand that your
friend, Mr. Chesney—” he be
gan.
Michael colored.
“Oh, Chesney! But she never
cared for.him, and they would
n’t have been happy together,”
he said off-handedly.
4 4 Well,” said Mr. Philips,
“there are plenty of men in the
world, and Miss Rolf is young.”
4 4 She’s the greatest worry I ’ve
ever had in my life,” Michael
said ruefully.
Mr. Philips smiled leniently,
as he followed Michael to the
door.
“And you will let me know
how you get on?” he asked. “I
shall be very interested.”
“Oh, I’ll let you know all
right.” Michael answered dry
ly. He had not got much faith
in himself.
Until Patricia was comfort
ably settled he knew he should
be able to make no plans for his
own future, and he very much
wanted to settle down. He had
knocked about the world so
much that there was something
very pleasing in the thought of
a home of his own, and perhaps
a wife. But Patricia stood like
the angel. of the flaming sword
at the gate of his Qarden of
Eden, and would not let him
pass. “Confound her?” Michael
thought as he raced through the
Bunny roads once more to Clay
ton Wold.
“She’ll have to have lunch
with me to-day, whether she
likes it or not.” He drew up at
the old house with a fine flourish
just as it was striking one
o ’clock.
The door was shut, and he
rang the bell and waited im
patiently. The maid who yes
terday had told him of Patricia’s
distress opened the door after
some little delay.
“Is Miss Rolf int” Michael
Eskcd*
“Miss Rolfl” She stared at
him. “No sirj she went away
this morning.”
Michael had passed her and
gone into the hall, but now he,
stopped dead and turned.
“Gone awayl” he echoed in
credulously.
“Yes, sir.”
But I thought— Michael
began, then stopped. “She’ll bo
home this evening, of course!’’
he added after a moment.
“No, sir.” The girl shook her
head rather sadly. ‘Miss Rolf
said good-bye to us all, sir, and
took all her luggage; she said
she was not coming back to Clay
ton any more, sir.’-’
“Not coming back any more!”
There was utter incredulity in
Michael Rolf’s face and voice.
He stared at the girl blankly for
( a moment; then he laughed.
“Oh, but that’s absurd!” he
said. “There must be some mis
take! Why—why, she hasn’t
anywhere in the world to go.”
The words escaped him ;before
he was aware of it, and he hast
ened to retract them.
“Of course, she has friends—
many friends, but—but—oh,
there must be some mistake,” he
said again, impatiently.
The girl shook her'head. She
did not think there was any mis
take; she knew Patricia very
well in some ways, and she could
understand the impulse that had
prompted this flight.
“If you were to see her room,
sir, you’d know that she didn’t
mean to come back,” she
said impulsively. “It’s all up
set—she’s taken everything that
was hers—all the things Mb.
I R*5f gave her. *They-re mine, at
least/ she said, when I asked if
I was to pack them.”
Michael turned on his heel and
went into the dining-room.
Where in the world could she
have gone? he was asking him
self in anger. It was like her to
further embarrass him. She
probably knew how he would
feel about it.
Had she gone to friends. He
doubted it. From^what he knew
of Patricia she was not the girl
to risk another snubbing such as
she had received from Effie
Shackle; and yet—how was it
possible for her to live alone!
What money had shef Very
little, he was sure.
The maid followed him into
the room.
'Can I get you some lunch,
sir!” she asked diffidently.
"No—no, thanks, I don’t
want any.” Michael swung
round from the window. "How
long is it since Miss Rolf left th,e
house!”
"She went to London by the
ten o’clock train, sir.”
-He must have passed her on
the way. Why the dickens
hadn’t he come straight here in
stead of calling to see Philips!
He ought to have guessed that
she had some such mad brained
scheme in her head. Of course, it
Was all done to annoy him.
"Who drove her to the sta
tion!” he asked. "Did she have
the car! Which of the men
drove her!’ ’
Miss Rolf hired a cab from
the village," the girl told him
hestitatingly. "I ordered the
car, but she refused to use it."
There was a touch of anxiety in
her voice. "I hope Miss Rolf is
all right, sir, * ’ she added timidly.
"All right! Of course she’s all
right," Michael answered. Shell
come back in a day or two. Of
course, she’s all right."
"Miss Rolf said she should
never come back," the girl in
sisted.
Michael laughed.
» "She will," he said. %
He went out again and drove
away. He was at his wits’ ends
wKtt to do or where to look for
Patricia. He fully realized how
difficult it would be to trace her
once she had got to London.
He drove to the station and
asked a few questions of a porter
there who knew Patricia. Yes,
it was quite true Miss Rolf had
gone up that morning by the ten
train, the man said; true, too
that she had had a lot of lug
gage. The porter looked at
Michael interestedly.
"Nothing wrong, I hope,
sir!" he ventured.
"No—nothing." MichaeX
drove to London. He went
straight to Mr. Philips and told
him the news.
"She’s done this to annoy
me," he said, pacing up and
down with agitated strides.
"Women are the very devil,
Philips. And what in the world
am I to do, I should like to
knowt"
Mr. Philips regarded him
quizzically.
"Tl^at depends what you want
to do," he said, quietly.
"What I want to do!" Mic
hael echoed. "Well, I want to
find her, of course. A nice thing
for a girl like that to be roam
ing about the World alone!
What do you suppose people will
sayt What do you suppose they
will think of met"
There was a little silence. Mr.
Philips was tracing an intri
cate pattern on his blotter.
"It should not be a very diffi
• cult task to find Miss Rolf," he
said, after a moment. "She is
the kind of girl whoni people
would notice, and you say she
has a quantity of luggage t"
“Stacks of it, I should think,"
Michael said, dryly, with a sud
den cynical memory of the won
derful toilets which Patricia had
worn on the houseboat for the
enchantment of his friend.
And at the thought of Chesney
a deeper frown came to his
brows. After all, it would have
been as well if she had married
him, and so settled her future
once and for all. He had done
no good1 by interfering; he had
got no thanks either from
Patricia or from Chesney.
"How do I start to find her,
for heaven’s saket" he demand
ed, irascibly. "It’s like looking
for a needle in a bunch of hay
to search for anyone in Lon
don."
"If you will leave it to me—’’
Mr. Philips began. He was
rather entertained by his client’s
agitation.' Privately he consid
ered that Patricia had behaved
rather cleverly if she wished to
attract Michael Rolf’s impartial
attention. He was old-fashioned
enough to still believe that the
way to capture a man is to evade
him.
“They might do worse—
both of them,” he thought as he
looked at Michael’s wrathful
face. “And they’d make a hand
some couple.”
“If you will leave it to me—”
he said again.
Michael cut in brusquely.
“But there's no time to be lost
If we’re going to find her. It’s
hours now since she left Clayton.
She’ may be out of the country
for all we know.”
“I hardly think it likely,”
said Mr. philips, smoothly. “You
will probably find that she is
with friends .... ”
Michael laughed ruefully.
“She won’t find she has many
friends now she’s lost her
money,” he said. “It’s the same
all the world over .... ”
But he agreed to leave it in
Mr. Philips’ hands, knowing all
the time that ,he should do
nothing of the sort, and as soon
as he got out of the office he
began evolving schemes in his
own mind for means of finding
Patricia.
As he drove slowly back to his
rooms he found himself staring
at every woman he passed. Once
he chased a taxicab for 4 couple
of miles because it was piled
with luggage, and because he
had caught a glimpse of a girl at
the window who faintly resem
bled Patricia. Finally, he gave
it up in disgust and took the car
to the garage.
He felt horribly helpless and
beaten. He wished he could take
Mr. Philips* ‘philosophical view
and tell himself that Patricia
would be all right, but this he
could not do. He could only
think of her as he had found her
crying in the garden yesterday
morning; only remember hqr
with that air of unexpected help
lessness.
Michael stood still for a mo
ment; then he turned and fol
lowed. He caught his friend up
at the outer door and called to
him “Don’t be a,fool, Chesney,
we shall find her all right. I’ve
done my best, I give you my
word. Wait a minute and I’ll
walk along with you.’’
He ran back for his hat, and
a moment later the two men
were walking down the road.
Chesney was inclined to be
sulky still. He really blamed
Michael for Patricia’s disappear
ance. If only he had gone to see
her when she asked him; if only
he had answered that lettr in the
way in which his heart longed to
answer it, how different things
might have been 1
At the corner of the road he
stopped.
At the corner of the road he
stopped.
“Look here,’* he said, dogged
ly, “I give you fair warning
that when I find Patricia again
—and I shall find her—I shall
marry her if she’ll have me, in
spite of anything you can say.
Good-night I’’
He turned, struck out across
the road, and was lost in the
darkness.
Michael turned and began to
retrace his steps.
“Quixotic young fool!’’ he
said, exasperatedly. under his
breath. '
He walked on quickly; it was
nearly midnight, and it was be
ginning to rain a little.
He had reached the block of
buildings in which his rooms
were situated, when a girl came
running towards him. He could
hear her quick breathing as she
came up to him, saw that she fal
tered a little and looked back
hurriedly over her shoulder as
if afraid of someone or some
thing that was following her.
Then suddenly he gave a stif
led exclamation: “Good heav
ensl Patricia!”
(Continued Next Week
BRIDE PROTESTS
JAIL HONEYMOON
Perjury Charges Brought By
Father Says She Fibbed
About Her Age
Cleveland, Ohio—A solitary picture
of woe after the fourth day of her
honeymon, Mrs. Kathleen Paul, 18
year-old bride, tearfully declared that
"the County Jail was no place to
spend a honeymoon!"
Mrs. Paul’s honeymoon abruptly
hit a snag when, after she had de
cleared she was 21 at the marriage
bureau and married Joseph Paul, 19,
In the face of parental opposition,
she was placed under arrest on a:
charge of perjury, at her father’s
Instigation.
Meanwhile the youthful Joseph
scurried around to ralsee the $500
bail to liberate h!s bride, pending
grand Jury action on the charge.
The whole trouble arose from the
law passed by the last session <tf
the State legislature and recently
put Into effect, wtalch requires a
prospective bride to be 21, or have
the consent of her parents.
FRENCH SUSPECT
GERMAN AIR PLOT '
Fear Saboteurs of Ruhr Ar«
Guilty of Setting Fire /
To Their Airplanes
Paris—The spectre or another
destructive German Invasion, with
German Incendiaries, draft from the
ranks of the Ruhr saboteurs, carry
ing burning brands and setting fir*
to France’s’ military aviation fields,
has been raised by Colonel Rousset,
of the French army. This offlicer.
In an appeal in the Petit Parisian, be
lieves he sees an enemy’s hidden!
hand In the recent epidemic of fires I
which have devastated French avia-1
tlon grounds.
"Fire destroyed the hangars of!
Paris” great airport, Lc~ Bourgetj
witthin a few days a second fire on
the same field burned a number of
planes,” Colonel Rousset writes.
“And now we learn that at Bron.
near Lyons, a hangar, 100 yards 1
long by sixty wide, burned Ilk*1
a straw heap, demolishing 27 Nleu
port planes valued at more than
3,000,000 francs.
“The Germans, as everyone knowst
are counting entirely upon a war in
the air to avenge their defeat, and
they wouldn’t shrink from any tactics
to prevent France from surpassing
them In the air. They know that the
only obstacle they have to f«ur would
be a powerful and largs force of
French airplanes, whch Would b*
ready to bar Germany’s t»*y in case
of a sudden attack and return blow
for blow. To hinder the develop
ment of French aviation the Germans
certainly would not recoil before any
act; they would accept opprobrium
gracefully provided they secured a
benefit from it.”
Colonel Rousset demands that th*j
causes of the flresllt :Dwde,flmingd t
French con*re-espionage service make!
a thorough Investigation Into th*
causes of the fires to make sure that*
a German hand is not behind th*|
destruction. '
Southern Delegates.
From the New York Poet.
They aren’t what they used to be.,
Time was when they made up a:
fourth of a national Republican con
vention. In 1916. however, a new
rule of apportionment went Into ef-j
feet, by which the number of dele
gates to which a Congressional dis-i
trlct was entitled depended somewhat1
upon the size of Its Republican vote.
This cut the Southern contingent byi
one-third, reducing the number from
252 to 174. Next year the number
will be somewhat larger, owing to thtfj
huge Republican vote In 1920.
The reduction in the number of
Southern delegates is given as a rea
son why President Coolldge’s friends:
will not go after them. It is a rea
son which does credit neither to
their hearts nor to their heads. Re
publican candidates for President
who have tried to win any consider-;
able number of Southern delegate*
of recent years have had their fing
ers burned. President Coolldge is
independent of them. If he makes
good It will be hard to prevent his**
nomination for President. If he does
not, possession of every delegate
south of Mason and Dixon’s line wilfc
not help him.
Driving Fitness
Minnesota Sparks
Isn't It about time that something
Is done eoward inquiring Into the fit
ness of people who are driving anto
mobiles upon our congested streets
and highway ?
e venture the belief that not more
than 76 per cent of the people who are
driving should be allowed to do so.
Of course, we do not believe there
would be a falling off of 26 per cent
of our drivers 1? we undertook to
wake them, all pass an examination
as to their fitness, as some of the
unfit would naturally escape. We do
believe, however, that there are many
thousands of drivers today whonot
only do not know of the provisions
of our .state and loval laws and or
dinances, but haven't the slightest
idea of road practise or coutesy.
We have long hesitated recom
mending putting to which they are
now subjected or the establishing of
any more ’’bureaus,’* but automobiles
are becoming so numerous and the
consequent crop of inexperienced
drivers so large that we feel, in Justice
to themselves, there should be some
test to which every driver of a car
should be subjected before being al
lowed to drive.
Investigations of a number of recent
accidents seem to prove that they
were caused In a large measure
through Inexperienced drivers, either
they didn’t know what to do at the
right time or dldn'tknow at all; loss
htelr heads, so to speak. Of course, It
would be difficult to legislate against
losing one’s head, but this rarely
happens to an experienced or capable
driver.
Jfnd the sort of punishment that
should be meted out to the idotla
parent who teaches- young hopeful
how to drive at the age of 7 and de
clares it is all right for him to do so
as long as he la seated beside him, we
would leave to those of our readers
who aren’t fond parents, and thus be
assured he would get his just desert*
Origin of Famous Hymn.
From the Chicago Journal.
The first man to sing the lmmorta
hymn. "Lead, Kindly Light," was a
boatman, the place an orange boat
becalmed on the Mediterranean off
the island of Caprera, the time 90
years ago.
John Henry Newman, afterward the
great cardinal, was a passenger on
the boat. Ill in body and mind, ho
was idling in the Mediterranean in
the hope of recovering his health.
He was especially depressed on that
day when the orange boat was be
calmed and sought to soothe his
spirits by composing a hymn. The
result was "Lead, Kindly Light."
The composition occupied but a
few hours, and the boatman, who
spoke English and was possessed of
a fine voice, was asked to sing it. As
the day melted into darkness a breeze
sprang up and the becalmed voyagers
were guided by the “kindly lights’*
along the Caprera shore into a safe
harbor. The composer, with health
restored, soon returned to England^
and became a leader in the Oxford
movement, until in 1848 ho went over
to the Catholic church, which later
rewarded his ability and devotion byi
the bestowal of the rod hat.
