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ILLUSTRATlOISSr ILUWORniTOUNG-
copyright; ism- or f. g. drowne s.
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SYNOPSIS.
Enocli Wentworth, newspaper man. and
Andrew Merry, nctor, after tho gucnt.i at
a poker party depart, play n taut hand,
th. Make to bo nbolutu control of tho.
future, or tlio loner. Wontworth wins and
they droldu to keep tliu mattor urcret.
Dorrna, Knoeh'a sister. ' becomi-s Inter
eatpd In Morry. Knowing of his short
coming from nor brother she trim to
.rouse the actor's ambition. Ho outline
dm plot of 11 play bo han had In mind
and tho elrl urges him to go to work
on It When Mo complete tho play and
nada It to Wentworth tho latter do
roanda It on tho forfeit of tho bond won
In tho poker Rama.
CHAPTER V Continued.
Enoch wrenchod his arm free and
rose awkwardly to bis foot. Tho come
dian draw back with a startled expres
sion, as If fear struggled with be
.wlldennent '"You see," Enoch's lips wore per
fectly colorless, "your mental ability
Is pledged to me,"
Merry stared at him, carloua and
perplexed.
"It la your mnntal ability which I
nlalm now," Enoch said dollberately.
Andrew apoko in a coarse whisper.
I don't understand."
"I demand your play!"
"You demand my play 7 To sellT"
"No; of course not." Wentworth
jerked out the words abruptly. "Why.
should I want to sellT I want to pro
duce It as mine, as one I bavo writ
ten." Merry moved toward him with an
Cony of terror In his eyes. "You
rwant to tako from me my ono com
plete effort, my ono ambition, my
everything the work which is making
a man of mo, on which I have tolled
steadily for weekB? You would do
that! Do you understand whilo I
wroto I scarcely stopped to cat or
loop? When I did sloop I dreamed of
It and"
He stopped, too much affected to
trust his voico. He laid one hand over
the other as If to still himself, for ho
fwaa trembling.
Wentworth stood looking at the
younger man. Something cold and re
lentless crept into his eyoe. He laid
his hand on Merry's arm.
"Lei me talk to you, Andrew."
"Talk I Talk! You damned thief!"
(He pushed Enoch aside with quick re
imlslon. His face was Mazing with
Play?
Sell?'
'wrath. He wont tramping about the
jroom in a vaguo, heedlesB, holf-bllndcd
fashion. A thought seemed to striko
him abruptly. He whoeled around sud
denly and faced the man beeldo hlro.
"Why In the devil's namo, Enoch,
should you do this? Have I ever dono
you ono cruel, disloyal act in all my
life?"
Wentworth did not answer. Ho re
turned the terror in Merry's eyes with
a cool, stubborn glance.
"Did you have this hellish plunder
scheme In mind when you drew up
that bond?" he asked unsteadily.
"What did you havo In mind when
you oiado me your slave?"
"I don't know exactly." Wentworth
turned such a straightforward gaze
upon Merry that he realized the man
wan speaking the truth. "As I told
you that night, and I am telling the
truth, it was nothing but a fancy of
mine. When you canio to mo with
tills," Enoch's hand dropped on tho
manuscript which lay upon the table,
"'you came with a great temptation; it
Tvas too much for mo."
"Evidently," cried Morry. His tone
was withering in Its scorn. He seated
immsoii ana nis eyes turned fiercely
upon Wentworth. The muscles of his
cheek twitched as regularly as a puIbo.
"The play Is mine." Enoch seemed
to havo grown strangely cool and lm-
pervious to contempt or anger. "Tho
play Is mine," ho repeated; "it 1b tho
due and forfeit of my bond."
Tho eyes, of tho actor narrowed and
ho laughed savagely.
"Tako your pound of flesh," ho
Icrled. "What will you do with it?"
'"You Demand My
"Everything wo had planned."
Enoch's voice was calm. "Give it n
big production, advertlao it as a play
novor was advertised boforo, and build
up your famo aa an emotional actor."
"What, will you not play tho con
vict?" "I! Of coureo not Thoro Is only
ono actor In America who can play
John Bstorbrook.' "
Andrew rushed across tho room In a
blind fury. He stretched out his hand
and dealt Wentworth a stinging blow
ncrbsa the mouth. "That actor won't
play It. Do you understand?"
Wentworth lifted his urni fiercely,
then It dropped nervelessly by his
side. The veins roee in his neck and
forehead llko taut cords. Ho stood
staring at Merry, who strode about the
room in a demoniac fury.
"God! You'ro not a man! You'ro
a damned, low-down, scurrilous black
leg. And to think of you standing
there, looking mo In tho faco Qodl"
Merry raised his hand again as it to
striko, then he dropped it by hie Bide,
Bhuddored, and dashed across the
room. Ho picked up his hat and turned
to the door. "
"Where are you going?" asked
Enoch stonily.
"I'm going straight to hell."
He lifted his gloves from tho table.
Detilde them lay the manuscript of his
play. He Btretchod out his hand and
turned hie eyes on the other man,
watching him as a thief might, who
fears being caught in an act of rob
bery. "Tako it," cried Enoch. "I have a
copy of it, a copy In my own hand
writing." Morry Btood Angering the pages.
"What do you propose to do with
your swag?"
"Call it by a decent name. It be
longs to me. Money does not count
with me in this transaction. You may
take all the royalties, I want nothing
but tho authorship of the play."
"Nothing but the auUiorshlp "
Merry's glance ,wae a malediction.
He dropped the pages and tossed his
hat upon his head. Wentworth watched
him curiously. The outer shell of the
man had changed. His clothes, im
maculate an hour ago, looked dishev
eled. A lock of fair hair strayed down
over his forehead, his linen had a bat
tered appearance, the whlto hyacinths
drooped from his buttonhole like blos
soms which had been touched by frost
He stood for a moment with the door
knob In his hand staring at Went
worth, who returned his gaze with a
cold, ruthless scrutiny. Merry's eyes
fell bofore them. It was the first pal
pable concession to Enoch's stronger
will. .
"Good-by," he said with an unsteady
laugh. He closed tho door behind him.
Wentworth turned to tho table, lifted
the manuscript and stood glancing
through the closely scrawled pages.
Then ho crossed the room, dropped It
upon the red coals, leaned bis head
upon tho mantel, and watched until
each gray ash became a fllmy atom of
dust
CHAPTER VI.
Stepping Out Downhill.
"Jason, this is nobody I know."
Wentworth sat starlug at a card his
man laid before him. Ho knitted his
brows querulously. "Make him under
stand that I'm engaged."
"He's terrible masterful, Marse
Enoch," said tho darky apologetically;
"he's bouu' he'll see yo'. He's a gen
tleman all right 1 don' bellevo I kin
git rid at) him easy." '
"Tell blm I can spare ten minutes."
Jason ushered the visitor into Wont
worth's library. Ho was a tall, distin
guished man, with a fine, highbred
face. His manners were exceedingly
gracious, yet simple
"I don't bellevo, Mr. Oswald, I've mot
you bofore," said Enoch.
"You haven't." Grant Oswald
Bmllod cordially. "Your man tells me
you have exactly ten minutes to spare.
I'll go straight to business. I'm an
Englishman. I have been In New
York for three weeks. I want to in
vest money in something along the
theatrical lino."
"Oh." Enoch looked up sharply.
"Andrew Merry mentlonod you."
"Yes, I spoke to Merry one night on
the elovated. He's one of your few
American actors whom I admire. It a
play could bo found that fitted him
ho spoko of having one I'm willing to
venture a hundred thousand dollars on
its production." .
"A hundred thousand! That would
bo a production worth while!"
"Hut remember only If tho play
appeals to me. I'vo been studying
theatrical business sluco I was a
youngster. I never threw money away
on It"
"If you can stay I will read you tho
play now." ,
"My ten minutes are up." Tho Eng
lishman smiled.
"This work can wait Excuse me a
minute." Wentworth lifted a heap of
clippings and copy which Uttered his
tabic Then ho wnlkod to the safo and
knelt before it Ho had Jutt opened tho
door aud laid his hand upon tho manu
script when tho door opened and Dor
cas ran in. Jason followed, carrying
fa suit cub(. for a mlnuto Wentworth
forgot the! visitor In his Inner room.
"IMess ray heart, I'm glad to have
you back,A ho cried. "Never in nil ray
life have jl soon you look so well."
Sho held him at arm's length and
gazed at him critcally. "I wish I
could say as much for you, Knotjh. You
look decidedly soedy I've got to stay
right here. I'm the only one who can
manage you."
"I beg your pardon, Dorcas, I'vo a
guest here." Her brother led her to
the Inner room and Introduced his
caller to her.
"Mr. Oswald and I were having a
business talk, Dorry not exactly busi
ness either. You may stay if you
wish and hear a play. I was Just go
ing to read to him. If he likes it he
will star Andrew Merry in It"
"Oh!" Ayglow of anticipation shone
in tho girl's eyes. She laid her coat
and hat on tho window Beat and
dropped Into a low chair beside hor
brothor. Onco or twlco sho patted
him affectionately on tho shouldor.
Tho Englishman watched her. Thero
was vivid admiration In hie oyes, but
Dorcas did not see It Her only thought
was of tho happiness in store for
Merry.
Wentworth laid the pages of manu
script on tho tnblo and cleared his
throat. Oswald sat ready to bestow a
business-like attention upon tho read
ing. When Enoch lifted the first pago
his visitor asked: "May I know who
wrote the play?"
"I did," answered Wentworth quietly.
"Ah!" Bald the Englishman. He
noticed the startled look on Dorcas'
face. It escaped her brother, who sat
turned half way from hor.
Wentworth began to read. He was
an excellent reader; his enunciation
was slow and distinct. The story
quickly unfolded Itself in strong, vivid
language. Grant Oswald, who was an
ardent student of dramatic literature,
foil Immediately under its spell and
listened with Intent qulot
The minds of both men were so
vitally concentrated upon tho drama
that they were scarcely conscious of a
movement when Dorcas crept from her
low choir to the window seat She lay
back against a pillow, gathered the
folds of a silky portiere around her,
and stared down at tho square. She
heard her brother's voice In fragments.
Those fragments were always the
words of the girl, Cordelia, or of the
rather fallen to pitiful estate. Sho
clasped her hands together with such
a grip that It numbed her fingers. A
strange pain and a horrible suspicion
were seeping through her body and
burning in her veins. Outwardly she
was Inert.
Suddenly she was awake again, wide
awake, tingling with life and emotion,
listening to her brother's vibrant
voice. The day of release had come
for John Esterbrook. He stood with
halting, tremulous steps, fearful at the
sight of the world he had left twenty
years before, hiding his eyes from Its
tumult Then Cordelia ran to meet
him young, hopeful, loving and eager.
Dorcas forgot the horror and doubt
which had swept her down for a mo
ment she was thinking of nothing but
the play. It was greater, more human,
than she had dreamed' of that day
when Andrew and sho walked home
over the beach at Juniper Point Her
eyes grew wet with pity, then she
smiled happily as life ceased to be a
problem for Cordolla. Love had come,
and the father turned to work out
what was left him of a future.
Enoch laid the manuscript aside.
The Englishman, hearty in his con
gratulations and enthusiastic, was
urging the earliest possible produc
tion. He offered unlimited money and
insisted that the best company Now
York could produce should be engaged.
The spell or the story was still upon
Dorcas. She passed out shaking hands
hastily jwlth Oswald.
"Dorry," cried her brother. She did
not answer.
"The play stirred her intensely,"
said Oswald. He had noticed a trace
of tears on her cheeks. "Was this the
first time she heard It read?"
"Yes, I had never even told her of it
She has been away while It was writ
ten." "Is your sister an actress?"
"No she wants to go upon the
etago."
"Let her have her way," advised the
Englishman. "Her 'every action shows
that she possesses dramatic talent"
"It isn't my Idea of her future."
"Stago life is exactly what one
chooses to make of It Curiously
enough, I havo a conviction she' could
play Cordelia."
Wentworth hrusued his hand across
his forehead and stared at the scat
tered sheets of manuscript on tho
table.
"Get Morry here as soon as- possible.
I want a consultation with both of
you," suggested Oswald while ho drew
on his glovea. "It la now only a mat
ter of time and a theater. If I may ad
vUe now, don't choose anyone on this
side tor Mrs. Esterbrook. I know a
woman who can play that part to per
fection. Again let me congratulate
you. It's a great play, one or tho
greatest I've heard In years. It's bound
to succeed."
Wentworth bowed, but a sudden
flush blazed Into hla face. He was not
hardened enough yet to accept con
gratulations for the brain product of
another man.
"Good-by," said tho Englishman,
holding out his hand cordially.
"Good-by," murmured Wentworth.
Ho moved to tho window. A carrlago
stood waiting in front of tho house.
Ho watched Oswald step Into 'It and
drive away.
Suddonly he recollected that Dorcas
had not spoken a single word of pralso
or congratulation on tho play. Sho
was always enthusiastic and happy
over ovory triumph that como to him.
She must have thought well of the
play She had a full appreciation of
Merry's tnlents and she had seemed to
like him while they were together
during the summer. He paused to
pull himself together mentally, then
ho called her. She came slowly Into
the room, which had grown dark.
"Dorry," said Wentworth Blovvly, "do
you know you havo not said yet that
you llko my play?"
"Your play?"
'"Why, Dorry?"
The girl spoke In an unsteady voice.
"I don't bellevo, Enoch, that Andrew
Merry told you of a long talk we had
at Juniper Point. You remember you
left mo alone with him when you were
called to Iloston. Wo Bat on tho rocks
ono afternoon and he told mo Jils plot
for this play he had bee'n thinking it
out for years and years. ;Why," the
girl shook her head Impatiently, "why,
Enoch, he had labored on It so long
that somo of tho speeches were writ
ten, In his mind. Somotlmos ho. put
tho Btory Into tho very words you
road!"
During n few minutes Enoch Went
worth fought tho battlo of his llfo. It
was tho struggla between good and
evil, which every human being har
bors to a greater or lessor degree, In
ono soul, In ono body. Wentworth
sighed. Tho battlo had passed and
evil bad wot). It was prepared to
carry him through tho most dangerous
"Then
Found!"
moment. "With it came fresh valor,
and not only the power to sin further,
but a mysterious weakening of the
moral tissues which mado it possible
for him to Bin coolly and remorse
lessly. He turned on the light and
with cool composure faced his sister.
He met her gray eyes without a
quiver. They aaked a question which
could not be evaded.
"I hate to tell you, Dorcas," there
was a tone of reluctance In Went
worth'B voice, "but Merry la down
again, down in the gutter."
Tho girl Jumped to her foot "I
don't belldvo it!" she cried. "Besides,
if he were, what has that to do with
his play?"
Enoch did not answer. Instead he
asked a question. "Dorcas, do you
car for do you love Andrew Mer
ry?" A flush blazed Into the girl's face.
In spite of the telltale color her
brother believed her.
"Yes, I care for Andrew Merry
very much. I do not love him."
Enoch gazed at her wistfully. He
knew, as she did not, how easy It la
to cross the bridge from mere friend
ship to love.
"Why did you ask mo that?"
"I wanted to And out how much It
would hurt It I told you the truth.
Merry Is not worth your love, he Is
not even worth your friendship."
"It Is not true!" There was Indig
nant protest in the woman's voice. "I
know better, so do you. Only this
does not explain about his play, for
It Is hla play."
"You remember he left Juniper
Point suddonly?"
"Yes." Sho raised hor bead with
an eager gesture. "He went away to
wrlto this play." She pointed to the
manuscript which lay on tho table. ,
"Ycb," said Enoch slowly. "Ho be
gan bravely enough. Then be went
under, as he had done so many times
In hlB life."
"What was It?" cried the girl.
"Drink "or gambling?"
Enoch lay back in bis chair. Ho
began to marvel at how easily he
could lie, because a lie had never come
readily to htm before.
"Drink and gambling and every
thing." Her brothor shrugged his
shoulders as It in disgust "Of course
he stopped writing. A man could not
write in his condition. He sent for
me. I stayed by blm night and day
and wrote. You see I wrote it."
He lifted a written sbeot from the
loose pile of manuscript.
"Perhaps but it Is not your play."
Dorcas shook her head with obstinate
Incredulity.
"I told him so. I suggested we
make it a collaborated plajV'
"It is not oven a collaborated play,
Enoch. Why, evory situation, the plot,
oven tho very words, are his."
"'Ho wants mo to father it"
"He roust havo changed stneo ho
said good-by to me. Ho was on Are
then with hope and ambition."
"Ho has changod," acceded Enoch
gravely. It was a collet to make one
truthful statement
He Must Be
"Is he to play 'John Ksturbrcol;
whou it Is produced?"
"No other nctor can. Merry has tht
entire conception of It now."
"Where Is her
"I don't know."
"I thought you promlsod Mr. Oswald
to havo him here and get things start
ed for an early production?"
"I did. I am hoping to find Merry
at one of his haunts. He must be
found and put on bis feet There's a
tremendous lot at stake. Dorry," he
turned to her appeollngly, "won't you
help mo?"
"I'll help you," Dorcas spoke slowly,
"If you can assure mo of ono thing."
"What?"
"That there Is no wrong to be done."
"Thero Is no wrong to bo done.
Merry will havo tho opportunity of
his life, If ho can only be mado to
see It that way." .
"And there Is no wrong to be right
ed?" "Thero Is no wrong to be righted."
"Thon ho must bo found. When ho
Isi found," tho girl spoke decisively,
"ho must appear before tho world
as the author of hie play1."
"Ho won't do it" anBwered Went
worth. Ho rose, put on his hat, and went
out Dorcas heard the front door slam
bohlnd him, thon sho laid hor faco on
the arm of the sofa and burst Into
tears.
CHAPTER VII.
Mvrry Disappears.
Suddenly, as If tho earth bad swal
lowed him, Merry disappeared. A
week passed. Grant Oswald, In a
fever of enthusiasm, had begun prepa
rations for a Broadway production.
He turned a vast amount of responsi
bility over to Wentworth, who shoul
dered it thankfully. It kept at arm's
length the possibility of dwelling
much with his own thoughts: they
were not cheerful company, and he
was racked by constant anxiety about
Merry. There was not a single mo
ment to spare when ho could go Into
the highways and byways of a great
city to search, as he had searched be
fore when tho man was bis friend.
He could not delegate the task to
nnother. He had prepared a tale for
the public of Merry's whereabouts.
Oswald believed the actor was study
ing his part and stood ready to appear
at a moments' notice. Enoch went
ahead with tho tremendous load of de
tail that fell upon him, tolling day and
night, while his mind alternated be
tween terror and hope.
Every day the man was acquiring
traits new to his nature. When n
strange accident had tossed boforo
him the possibility of satisfying bis
dearest ambition, conscience entreat
ed loudly against the theft of another
man's life-work. Every noble instinct
In Enoch made Its appeal; his honesty,
his generosity, an innate demand for
fair play, the love of his slstor and
friend, all cried aloud to him dur
ing the lonely hours of the night
There had been moments when he
would have gladly retraced his steps,
but the die had been cast He was
llko a racer who, by some treacherous
ruse, had pushed aside an opponent
and was close to the goal. The intoxi
cation of applause was beginning to
sound In his ears and the future held
untold possibilities. It was too late
to turn back; It would moan the down
fall of great ambitions and bitter
shame It might even mean crime. It
seemed easier to tako tho chances. ,
Occasionally Andrew's dogged face
flashed back to his memory when be
cried, "I will eeo what the law can
do to protect a man from theft"
Enoch felt his face blanch at the
thought of It Many a man had gone
down and out for a crime lesB knavish
than this. Dut he knew Andrew Merry
well, and be trusted to ono trait which
was predominant in the man his
queor, exaggerated idea of honor.
Day by day his conscience quieted
down, self-confidence took the place of
wavering, and the fear of exposure
seemed to recede. At last he could
look the situation In the face without
flinching. The task of putting on a
theatrical production began to absorb
him completely. He had always
longed for such a chance; he had been
storing away Ideas he could now uti
lize, besides he knew Now York thor
oughly, and he had observed for years
tho system of producing a play. Os
wald looked on with appreciation as
Enoch put his planB into shape. He
knew how uncommon was the' combi
nation of such talents In the same
man the ability to write a virile play,
then to stage it with practical skill
and artistic feeling and originality. A
remarkably strong company was en
gaged. Oswald insisted on Ailing even
the smallest parts with people far
above the level of subordinate actors.
The salary list grew to stupendous
'figures. One morning Wentworth re
monstrated against paying one hun
dred dollars a week to an actor who
was to play the Janitor.
"Dreon Is a tar bigger man than you
need," ho objectod. "He has played
leads to many of the biggest stars.
We noed a mere bit of character work
In this ho Isn't on the stage halt an
hour. I can get a first-rate man for
half that price."
"Breen can make the Janitor eo true
to life that the audience will regret
seeing him for only half an hour," Os
wald rejoined. "That's the teat of
quality. When I pay a hundred dol
lars I want a hundred-dollar man."
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
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110 Iparh Itrart. Srechtan. Maee.
Presence of mind in lovemaklng Is
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Dr. Fierce'a relicts, small, sugar-coated,
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Mum's the Word.
Hicks You never can tell about a
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Wicks You shouldn't, anyhow.
Once for All.
"Now, Freddie, once for all, will yon
wash your face and hands?"
"Sure thing, If It's once for all."
Judge.
Lived by Hla Character.
"That man is absolutely devoid of
character."
"What does he do?"
"Oh, he Is a character sketch artist
on the stage."
Heard at a Reception.
"Alice Is really the scrawniest girt
among all our acquaintances."
"Oh, I don't know. It's really nech
and neck betweon her and Maud Sim
mons, I guess." Boston Evening
Transcript
Environment.
Tho Mexican student was watching
his first northern football game. It
held his Interest firmly. His face grow
flushed, his arms wero flung out, he
shouted, hoarsely.
"Do you call this a gamer' he
asked of the man at his right
"Sure," was the reply, "what would
you call It?"
"In my country," said the stranger
from across the border, "we would call
it a seven-day pitched battle!"
Toastie
Flavour
A Winner
Every day many are finding
out that
Post
Toasties
are different from other "ready
to eat" foods. It's in the
making.
Toasties are carefully
cooked bita of choicest Indian
com toasted to an appetizing,
golden-brown crispness.
Care and time in toasting
and the delicate flavoring
make this crisp corn-food de
lightful. Post Toasties ready to eat
direct from the sealed package,
with cream and sugar to taste.
old by Grocers.
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