The Master Man
By Ruby M. Ayres
Michael laughed.
“Oh, all right 1 I’ll wait.”
Mr, Philips arrived punctu
ally on the stroke of nine. He
apologised profusely when he
asw Michael. “He had no idea,”
he said, agitatedly. “If he had
anly guessed—”
“You couldn’t have guessed,”
Michael interrupted bluntly.
Me rather liked old Philips, and
Jousted him, even while he had
•to paijence with his slow
'daethods,
v here,” he broke out
again, “I’ve found Miss Rolf. I
thought you’d like to know. It
was quite an accident. I ran in
to her Hi the street.” He laugh
ad at the elder man’s amazed
faee. “8hc’s as obstinate as
aver/' he went on cheerfully.
**She’s living with a fat Irish
woman in a beastly neighbour
hood—and refuses to move.”
Mr. Philips smiled faintly.
“In that case I should be in
clined to leave her where she is,”
he aaid, “A few weeks of—er—
comparative discomfort may
work miracles.”
“It may and it may not,”
Michael agreed. “Anyway, I
don’t feel inclined to risk it, and
that’s why I’m here. I want to
know if she’s got any friends—
not people like the Shackles—
hut genuine, decent people, pre
ferably poor 1—whose address
you can give me.”
Mr. Philips cleared his throat -
jutd rearranged some perfectly
tMy papers on his desk with irri
tating precision.
“1 know very little of Miss
Rolf's friends,” he said at last?
“Let me see now—not the
Shackles type, you say?”
“I do, most emphatically.”
There was a little silence—
then Mr. PFiilips said hesitating
ly
“There were some people — I
can’t quite remember the name
- know your father objected to
them very much—because they
were what ho called ‘shabby
genteel’—they lived—now let
fete see whercLdid they live!”
Michael frowned impatiently.
“If you don’t know' their
name or where they lived—” he
began, but Mr. Philips interrupt
ed:
“Kensington they lived?” he
mid in triumph. “Kensington,
J am sure it is! And their name—
I h**lieve it was Smith!”
Michael made a grimace.
“There are probably thou
aands of Smiths at Kensington,”
he said with sarcasm: “so if
that’s all you can toll me—”
“Oh, but it isn’t!” Mr. Philips
hastened to assure him. At least
I can find out, the real address
and all particulars and ring you
Xtp. What time will you be at
your rooms, Mr. Rolf?”
“I am going out to lunch.”
“If you will tel! me where you
Are lunching I will send a clerk .
along with a letter.”
Michael told him.
“And these Smiths—what are
they? Who are they?” he asked.
Mr. Philips ^liook his head.
“I'm afraid I know no more
about them than that Mr. Rolf
objected to them chiefly because
Mias Rolf sent them money and
elothes from time to time,” he
answered reluctantly. “It seem
"rd to annoy him exceedingly,
* though why I never quite under
Wabd.”
*‘My father objected to most
wags/’ Michael said a trifle
bitterly, hut his heart warmed
towards Patricia—perhaps after
all she had not been so selfish
as he hfl4 believed.
“I understood also,” Mr.
Philips added, “that these peo
ple—the Smiths—thought a
great deal of Miss Rolf.”
“Naturally,” said Michael,
then wondered why on earth he
had said it. He looked quickly
at the lawyer and flushed rather
jelf-conseiorisly.
Well, I’ll be off,” he added,
femriedly. “You’ll send a note
•long then!”
He went back to his rooms.
There was more than an hour
v yet before it was time to call for
Patricia. He changed his suit
«nd wandered up Regent-street.
There was a great bunch of
iiothouse violets in Gerard’s win
dow, and with sudden impulse
Michael went in and bought
them. They igguld brighten up
Patricia’s dingy sitting-room,
«nd Chesney had once mention
>«d that violets were her favorite
Lowers I
Michael was just giving Mrs.
Plannagan’s address to the at
tendant when someone touched
feint on tbs arm, and a voice said
8
with a sort of vague suspicion:
“Hullo! Yon! Who are you
buying flowers for?” and turn
ing swiftly, Michael found Ber
nard Chesney at his elbow.
Michael flushed.
Chesney was the last person
on earth whom he wished to see
at that moment; but he managed
a not very successful laugh and
answered with suspicious haste:
“Hullo!—wait a moment, I’m
just coming along—” He turn
ed to the girl who was looking
on impatiently. “Lend me the
pencil and I'll write the address
down,” he said. He seized the
pencil from her and hastily
scribbled Patricia’s name and
address, then, seizing Chesney
by the arm marched him deter
minedly out of the shop.
His one idea was to get rid of
him—the time was passing
quickly and he knew that it
would take him at least twenty
minutes in a taxicab to reach
Mrs. Flannagan’s uninviting
abode.
“I was going along to your
rooms when I saw you,” fchesney
said. “What are you doing
today? Will you lunch with
me?”
A sleepless night had taught
Chesney wisdom. He realized
that he bad made a mistake by
quarrelihg with Michael and
that far better results could be
obtained by remaining friends
with him.
4> Sorry—got a business en
gagement,” said Michael brief
ly. “To-morrow, if you like—”
“Business engagement?”
Chesney echoed, the vague note
of suspicion once again in his
voice. “You with a business en
gagement?”
“Yes.”
“Well, can’t I come along,
too? I shan’t interfere.”
Michael looked at him square
ly in the eyes.
“That’s just what you would
do,” he said calmly. “Meet you
to-night if you like—or come
round to my place if you care
about it. I must run now—so
long!”
Tie had turned away when
Chesney caught his arm.
“Ts there any news of Patri
cia?” he asked, and his eyes
were pathetic in their anxiety.
“Nothing since yesterday,”
Michael answered hastily. It
was the truth, and yet it was a
lie—he could have kicked him
self with pleasure as Chesney
turned dispiritedly away. He
stood for a moment looking af
ter him undecidedly. Why not
recall him and tell him where
Patricia was? She had liked
Chesney and he knew that Ches
ney adored her. Surely it was
the best and easiest way out of a
responsibility which was daily
becoming more irksome. He
moved a step forward to follow
his friend, then stopped. “I’ll
be dashed if I do,” said Michael
Rolf, and, hailing a taxicab, he
drove off in the opposite direc
tion.
He glanced hurriedly at his
watch. Five minutes to one!
Whatever happened he was
bound to be late!
This was Chesney’s fault.
Michael cursed him roundly as
he leaned out of the window and
shouted to the driver to hurry.
Patricia would never forgive
him if he were late. But in
spite of reckless driving and
hair-breadth escapes round cor
ners it was a quarter past one,
before the taxicab stopped out-*
side Mrs. Flannagan’s, and Mic
hael flung himself out and dash
ed up the steps.
It seemed an eternity to his
impatience before he heard steps
in the passage—an eternity be
fore Mrs. Flannagan opened the
door a couple of inches. When
she recognized Michael she smil
ed broadly and widened the gap
hospitably.
“Well, I never!" she said re
gretfully. “ And the young lady
only just this minute gonel"
“Gone!" Michael echoed
blankly.
“Shure, yes. And it’s herself
that was put about," said Mrs.
P 1 a n n a gan sympathetically.
“Kept asking me, she did, if the
clock was fast—"
Michael cut in bluntly.
“Where did she got"
Mrs. Plhnnagan did not know.
Neither did she know what time
her lodger intended to return,
but she cordially invited Michael
to step in and wait, on the
chance that Patricia might be
back soon.
But Michael - knew Patricia
better. She would give him
second chance, he was sm# He
went back t6 the waiting taxi.
What the deu?e could he do
now? It was all Ohesney’s fault,
confound the fellow.
“We came fast, sir,” the
driver said with a grin.
“We did,” Michael agreed
dryly. “But not fast enough.”
He gave the name of the res
taurant at which he had intend
ed to lunch. She could not have
gone far and they might over
take her.
‘And drive slowly this time,”
he added.
But though the taxicab went
at a snail’s pace, and though
Michhel sat leaning forward,
staring at every pedestrian in
the hope of discovering Patricia,
he was doomed to disappoint
ment. Presently he was sulkily
eating his lunch alone.
It was the devil’s own luck, he
told himself. Everything seem
ed to be against him; the next
disappointment would be that
Philips would fail him, too. But
even as the thought crossed his
mind, a youth, hugging a bowler
hat nervously under his arm,
hesitatingly threaded his way
through the rows of tables, and,
spotting Michael, fell upon him
triumphantly.
"From Mr. Philips, sir—”
Michael grabbed the letter
and tore it open. “Dear Mr.
Rolf,—The address you require
is 41j Ilchester Street, Kensing
ton, and the name, as I thought,
is Smith.”
“No answer,” said Michael.
This was something to work
upon anyway, and he finished
his lunch with more appetite be
fore he started off to Kensing
ton.
Ilchester Street proved to be
so far out of Kensington proper
that even the local police dis
claimed all knowledge of it, and
it was only after making dozens
of inquiries that Michael found
himself ringing the bell of No.
41.
The bell was brightly polished"
and the steps were spotless. He
noted these facts with satisfac
tion before the door opened and
a girl stood looking shyly up at
him.
She was a slim, pretty girl,
with wavy brown hair and dark
eyes, that reminded him a little
of Patricia’s. He smiled with a
queer feeling of friendlipes? to
wards her as he asked if Mrs.
Smith was at home.
The girl nodded: “Yes, it’s
mother. Will you come inf I’ll
go and tell her. What name is
it, please?”
“Rolf,” said Michael, “Mic
hael Rolf.”
He saw the girl’s eyes widen
and the flush deepen in her
cheeks, but she made no com
ment. She led the way into the
front room, which, though poor
ly furnished, had an air of home
comfort about it that struck
Michael agreeably.
One could see at a glanee that
gentle people iived here, he
thought.
He looked around the room
interestedly. The carpet and
chair coverings were shabby, but
there were flowers on the table
and a sleek cat curled up by the
fire.
Then he saw something else
that took him over to the mantel
shelf in a couple of strides—a
portrait of Patricia.
Patricia in evening dress, with
the arrogance in her face which
had so irritated him when they
first met—the Patricia of old
days, not the girl who had cried
and clung to his arm last night.
How great a change a short
time had made 1 Then he turned
swiftly as the door opened and
Mrs. Smith came into the room.
She was a faded likeness of the
girl who had admitted him, with
a rather sad face and anxious
eyes. She looked a little nervous
and flushed as she came for
ward.
“Mr.'Rolf!” she asked; and
then: “I hope—I hope there’s
nothing the matter with—Patri
cia!”
’ She was so obviously anxious
and interested that Michael liked
her at once. Here at last was
someone genuinely fond of the
girl—not a fair weather friend,
as Effie Shackle had been.
“No, there is nothing the mat
ter she is quite well,” he ans
wered. “She did not know
I intended coming here, and I
don’t wish her to know.”
• He smiled a faint embarrass
ment.
“You probably know nothing
about me,” he went on boyishly.
“But I am Peter Rolf’s son. I
have been abroad for years, and
only came home just before my
father died.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Mrs.
Smith interrupted. She groped
for a chair and sat down, her
hands clasped in her lap.
“We knew—we heard,” Ae
* '
went on. “I was so glad Mr.
Rolf left Clayton Wold to you,
after all. It was the right aifd
just thing to do.”
Michael smiled. “I am afraid
Patricia did not think so,” he
said. “However, that is not the
point. I got your address from
'Mr. Philips, my father's law
yer. Possibly you may have
heard of him?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he told me about you,
told me he understood that you
had always thought a great deal
of Miss Rolf and been a kind
friend to her. Mrs. Smith, she
needs a friend now badly.”
Michael spoke very earnestly,
but the woman opposite him did
not answer or raise her eyes, and
he was conscious of disappoint
she was going, and I found her
by pure chance last night.”
Mrs. Smith raised her eyes,
merit?
“You know, of course, that
my father left her nothing,” he
went on. “But you probably
“And—where is she now?”
do not know that she—Miss Rolf
—will accept no help from me. I
was unfortunate enough to of
fend her at the beginning, ahd I
am afraid she will never forgive
me. She left Clayton Wold
without letting me know where
sue asiced anxiously. Michael
told her at once.
“She is quite safe and well,
but she can’t possibly stay on in
that house. She refqses to leave
fct my suggestion, and so I hit up
on this plan of coming to you.”
He paused hopefully.
“I’m afraid I don’t under
stand,” said Mrs. Smith. There
was a little nervous quiver in her
voice:
“I mean,” Michael explained,
haltingly, “that I thought if you
would write to her—without let
ting her know that I came to
you, of course—if you would of
fer her a home with you—ask
her to live with you — let her
feel that you really want her—
and—and—eare for her—” he
stumbled a little. “She has had
some bitter awakenings over her
so-called friends, I am afraid.
But I thought if you would do
this—somehow I feel sure she
would be very happy with you.
I should be only too delighted—
too proud—to—to—pay ... If
you will allow me, I should feel
tt an honour—”
He flushed up to his eyes in
embarrassment. He had not
thought the suggestion would be
so difficult to make, but there
was something about this little
grey-haired woman, a pathos
and quiet dignity, that left him
at an unhappy disadvantage.
After a moment he went on,
with a rush
“I hope you won’t be offend
ed, or—or—misunderstand me.
It’s only that I am so anxious'lo
do all I can for Miss Rolf’s hap
piness. I hate to feel that it is I
who have turned her out of Clay
ton. I hate it because she will
accept nothing from me, and if
this—if you will only help me in
this way—”
Mrs. Smith rose to her feet.
She looked up at Michael as he
towered, above her, and there
was a mist of tears in her eyes.
“I am not at all offended, Mr.
Rolf,” she said gently. “I think
I understand you very well. I
think: it is most kind of you, most
generous, but—” She looked
away from him for a moment,
as if weighing some decision in
her mind; then she went on
slowly:
“But there are a great many
difficulties that—that I am
afraid may prevent me from
helping you. Oh, it isn’t that I
don’t wish to do so.” she broke
out, as Michael flushed. “I
should be only too glad and
pleased, but—Mr. Rolf, pardon
me—how well do you know
Patricia t”
Michael shrugged his shoul
ders.
“I have not known her very
long, if you mean that,” he ad
mitted. “But I think I under
stand her sufficiently to know—
to nope—” He floundered hope
lessly, before he asked in desper
ate bluntness• “Is it that you
don’t care for her enough to want
to help hert I know she is diffi
cult—I know she’s obstinate and
as proud «s the devil—oh, I beg
your pardon 1 ’ ’ Mrs. Smith smil
ed faintly—a little smile that en
couraged him to go on.
“People don’t understand
her, you know! I don’t think
they trouble tol In spite of all
her—nonsense—there’s a great
deal that is good in her. I—well,
I admit that I have changed my
mind considerably since we first
met, and I am not a man who is
easily influenced.”
“No,” said Mrs. Smith, “I can
quite beljeve that.” She scan
ned his anxious face with sym
pathetic eyes.
“Patricia may refuse tq dome
and live with me,” she said
quietly.
Michael shook his head.
"Somehow, I don’t think so,
and—pardon me but have you
since this affair of my father’s
will?”
ever suggested it to her? I mean
Mrs. Smith’s delicate face
quivered. She clasped her hands
agitatedly.
Oh, it has been my thoughts so
often,” she said. "It was my
first impulse, when I heard what
had happened, but—Mr. Rolf,
though I have known Patricia all
her life, I have never dared
imagine that I have ever under
stood her. I have always been
afraid to open my heart to her
as I have wished. She is so
proud, so uncertain, and, dearly
as I love her—”
"Then you do love hert”
Michael’s face cleared as if by
magic.
"Then you won’t refuse met
You can’t! It’s just splendid!
She’ll be safe here with you—
safe and happy—
He looked around the room
with satisfied appreciation.
"And it only remains for you
to tell me what I may be allow
ed to pay.” He smiled deprecia
tinbly. "I know it sounds hor
ribly like driving a bargain, but
I hope you won’t look at it in
that way. I am a rich man, Mrs
Smith, and whatever you say—
five pounds—ten pounds a week
—any sum!”
tie DroKe otr hopefully.
MrS. Smith was standing with
downbent head; it almost seem
ed as if she was not listening.
* ‘please! ’' Michael urge4
anxiously.
Joo^ed up then, and there
was a curious little look of pain
in her gentle eyes as she said
clearly:
“I don’t know how much Mr. I
Philips may have told you. about
me, Mr. Rolf, but there is one
thing which I am sure he has not
told you—”
She drew a breath like a sigh
before she added almost in a
whisper: “And that is—that I
am Patricia’s mother.’’
Michael stared at the pathetic
face of the little woman with
utter incredulity.
(Continued Next Week.)
Three 8lm!lar Murders.
Only a short time ago William
Olander was hanged for the murdei
of a grocer in Fort Dodge, the mur
der occurring In connection with
an attempt at robbery. From th«
psychology standpoint, at least. on«
would think that the next person at
tempting to rob a grocer In For:
Dodge would remember Olander*!
fate and hesitate about pulling thi
trigger when resistance developed.
/ But it did not seem to work out
that way. Within less than 10 dayi
after the Olander hanging an un
known bandit attempted to rob a
grocer at Fort Dodge and shot tt
kill when the grocer resisted. At th!
time this Is written the grocer’s re
covery Is considered doubtful.
Both of the Fort Dodge cases, so
the news account reminds, are simi
lar to the murder at Des Moines of
George Fosdlck, a grocer, for which
orlme two men were hanged a few
months before the execution of Olan
der. The bandit Involved In the re
cent Fort Dodge shooting had at
least three Impressive warnings if
he had been folowing news af4l
fairs in Iowa. Yet they did not-stay
his hand at the crucial moment
Whether capital punishment does
or does not discourage murders,
most people are agreed that l.iose
who ruthlessly kill law-abiding citi
zens, whom they are trying to rob,
ought to be put out of the way on
general principles.
The unanimous admission of the
Irish Free State to the League of
Nations will rob many an American
politician of one rather potent talk
ing point It would be more than
Interesting now if the Free State
carries out her announced intention
of offering full control of her arma
ments to the league.
ine Han Katael, cal., speeder who
paid a $5 fine in pennies and was
fined $50 and five days in jail for
doing so probably has a greater con
tempt for the court now than in the
first instance. But he will be' a lot
more careful about what he does to
Indicate it.
Automobiles coming from Nevada
are being searched at the California
line, not for liquor, but for a much
feared alfalfa pest. It must carry
the veteran tourists back to the days
when some of the states were “bone
dry” and others "wide open”.
Senator Brookhart advises "all
brain workers who earn their living
by useful employment" to unite to
redress what he pictures as economlo
injustice. Does the senator perhaps
imagine that he could qualify for
membership in such a union?
The first man to be rejuvenated
through the gland process is dead,
two years after the operation. The
biblical waining as to the results
of putting “new wine in old bottles*
apparently still bolds good.
OLD “FOUR HUNDRED” DEAD
" y i
Best American Society Nowadaya
Models Itself After the Court
of St. James.
The fiction of a four hundred lead
ing limelighted Americans has been
dead a long time—longer than the
aged patrons of Ward McAllister’s
Newport picnics at $10 per guest care
to remember.
“The best American society nowa
days models itself aft^er the court of
St. James. In London beauty, brains
und hreeding can obtain entrance any
where.
Even in America those familiar
terms “exclusive,” “well born,” “smart
set” have been pitched out of the snob
^iytlonary. Only very duH nobodies
posing as somebodies lisp “*Who is
she?” “Who are they?” Queen Vic
toria may have asked the questions
by divine right, but it is recorded that
she was cajoled into forgetting their
—sometimes.—Harper’s Magazine.
,
Foramir
Especially Prepared for Infants
and Children of All Ages
Mother I Fletcher’s Castoria has
been in use over 30 years to relieve
babies and children of Constipation,
Flatulency, Wind Colic and Diarrhea;
allaying Feverishness arising there
from, and, by regulating the Stomach
and Bowels, aids thet assimilation of
Food; giving natural' sleep without
opiates. The genuine bears signature
Intuition.
Mrs.—What do you think of my new
bathing suit, dear?
Mr.—Well, ah, hum, to tell you the
truth, my dear— w
Mrs.—Stop right there. If you’re
going to talk like that I don’t want to
hear another word.
Don’t Forget Cuticura Talcum
When adding to your toilet requisites.
An exquisite face, skin, baby and dust
ing powder and perfume, rendering
other perfumes superfluous. You may
rely on it because one of the Cuticura
Trio (Soap, Ointment and Talcum),
25c each everywhere.—Advertisement
No Chicken.
Wife (with sudden thought)—Dear,
how would you like to have mother
for lunch?
Hub—No, thanks. My digestion
isn’t what it used to be.
Don’t forget that a flatterer always
has an ax to grind.
A MAN WHO BECAME
FAMOUS
Doctor R. V. Pierce, whose picture
appears above, was not only a success
ful physician, but also a profound
student of the medicinal qualities of
Nature’s remedies, roots and herbs,
and by close observation of, the meth
ods used by the Indians, he discovered
their great remedial qualities, espe- ,
ciaily for weaknesses of women, and
after careful preparation succeeded in
giving to the world a remedy which
lias been used by women with the best
results for half a century. Dr. Pierce’s
Favorite Prescription is still in great
demand, while many other so called
“cure-alls” have come and gone. The
reason for its phenomenal success is \
because of its absolute purity, and Dr.
Pierce’s high stunding as an honored
citizen of Buffalo is a guarantee of all
that is claimed for the Favorite Pre
scription as a regulator for the- ills
peculiar to women.
Send 10c for trial pkg. to Dr. Pierce’s
Invalids Hotel, Buffalo, N. Y,
