The ledger. [volume] (Gaffney City, S.C.) 1896-1907, April 11, 1902, Image 6
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♦0
EQUAL PARTNERS
t» r r
By HOWARD FIELDING
5i$ **. « «
Copyright, . 1901, by Charles W. Hooke.
CHAPTER XV.
MU. nop.ixsox’s MESSAGE.
rT'T'RINC, the time when
Dr. Blair and Captain
Neale were eoncliHlinjj
their small matter of
business Detective El-
mendorf, was waiting
in Alden’s office, hav
ing reason to believe
ILbat he would make a flying visit there
(during the forenoon. This expectation
was realized, for Alden entered hur-
wJedlv about 11 o’clock.
He greeted Elmendorf in very friend-
Ejp fashion, the detective meanwhile as
suming a somewhat apqlogetic air.
“I hate to bother you,” he said, “about
yny troubles when you certainly have
plenty of your own, but there is a lit-
m|!
/
He examined the break in the chair.
tile matter, not connected with this case
at all, that you can help me about if
you feel like It—at least I think you
can.”
“With all the pleasure (9 life,” re
sponded Alden. “I feel like helping ev
erybody, with one exception.”
And as he spoke the last words his
iiand. that bad been resting upon the
ttock of a chair, closed with a sudden,
convulsive movement and ripped one
the wooden rungs out of Its fasten-
Sngs.
Elmendorf slowly crossed the mom
suid examined the break in the chair.
“If you got hold of the gentleman in
siuestlon,” said he. “I think he would
■ever come to trial. By the way, I
■sun pleased to learn that Miss Miller
is doing well this morning.”
Alden tapped his broken chair as If
St had represented the individual to
whom Elmendorf had vaguely referred.
“That doesn’t let him out, however,”
l»e said. “But tell me what I can do
*or you.”
“Did you have some dealings at one
dnie with a firm of the name of How
ard & Bain?”
“1 believe I did.” replied Alden.
■“They failed and skipped.”
“Have you any documents bearing
-tlie firm’s signature by either partner?”
Asked Elmendorf.
“Yes; 1 have one,” said Alden. “but
£ don’t know just where it is. I’ll look
through my desk. John”—addressing
Uohinson. who sat in his usual place—
•“■do you know where that contract, is?”
Robinson replied In the negative, and
Alden pulled out the contents of some
drawers and pigeonholes in a vain
search. Finally he came to one little
drawer which Mr. Elmendorf had once
«H>ened.
“Here’s the contract.” he said, “and—
Hello, here’s something of yours.
Aohn.”
And he tossed an envelone across to
Robinson's desk., Robinson glanced at
ft hastiiv and nut it into his pocket.
Klmendorf appeared to be busy with
tthe old contract which Alden had
^winded to him. and, having received
^permission to keep it for a few days,
toe put the useless document into his
tpocket.
“Jack,” said Alden, “will you ask
.Mr. Willett to come In here?”
Willett was the firm’s accountant,
l&obinson walked toward the door, and
ais lie did so Elmendorf half rose from
flsis chair and then sat down again.
The accountant presently appeared,
lie received some memoranda from Al-
rlen and went out again. There was
ain interval of silence, while Elmendorf
olevoted himself to the enjoyment of a
£terge cigar and Alden jotted down fig-
/area on a slip of paper.
“Wonder what’s become of Robin-
■on,” said Alden at last.
The detective offered no opinion
capon this point, and Alden stepped to
Mie door and glanced into the large
’■room. Elmendorf heard some one say
tin response to a question that Robin
son hud gone out. Alden seemed an-
•.vjoyed as he returned to his desk,
'■whore he hastily wrote a note to Rob
inson.
“Now,” he said, “I’m going up
ttown.”
“St. Winifred’s?” queried Elmen-
*3orf.
“I shall call there about 1 o’clock.”
“If you’ll go over to the Astor House
with me," said Elmendorf, "and wait
-about three minutes while 1 transact
.* little business, I’ll go up with you,
Jitnd we can talk on the way. There
^•re a few questions that I’d like to
ftsk after I've straightened them out
in my own mind a bit."
Alden saw no objection to this ar
rangement, and so they walked over
to the old hotel together. Klmeudorf
glanced at his watch as they entered
and then approached the attendant in
charge of the telephone booths in the
hall.
“There will be a call for Mr. Elmen
dorf from Philadelphia in about a
minute," he said. “1 am the man.”
Tue eall came within the interval
stated, and Elmendorf entered the
booth, where he gave the customary
greeting, which was returned in a fa
miliar voice.
“I’ve got track of your man over
here,” said the voice. "It. appears to
be his real name; didn’t suppose it
was. lie was in trouble over here a
little more than a year ago and had to
get out of town: borrowed some
money on bogus security.” And the
voice furnished a few details of the
transaction. “He has beefi trying to
straighten it out lately and is not in
danger of arrest here; lias been over
several times. There are rumors that
he got into similar trouble in Wash
ington. but I’m not down to that yet.
One man who knows him here thinks
he had letters from a girl named Mil
ler; doesn’t know whether she cas
on the stage or anything about her. in
fact: isn’t even sure o f the name, but
I'm going to get more information
about that. As to other inquiries,
nothing as vet, but will write you this
evening.”
"All right.” responded Elmendorf.
“Hustle, old man. This tiling is get
ting pretty ripe over here. And. re
member. this is personal business; it
isn't official. I may want to cover the
whole matter up.”
“The man is no good, I guess,” said
the voice.
“I don’t care anything about the
man.” rejoined Elmendorf, “or the
other one either. It’s the gir! I’m
interested in. Nothing is too good for
her or ever was. and if the worst
comes I want to be in a position to
wring somebody’s neck and wring it
hard. I don't know whose it will be
yet. How about the records?”
“Nothing in sight.”
“Well, there must be somewhere. Mr.
Tantalus has got to be accounted for.
Much obliged to you. Goodby.”
Elmendorf rejoined Alden. who in the
meantime had engaged a hansom.
“Your secretary, Robinson, seems to
be a handy man,” said Elmendorf after
some desultory conversation.
“He’s very obliging,” replied Alden.
“Perfectly honest, 1 suppose?”
“Never knew anything to the contra
ry,” said Alden. “He doesn't handle
any money.”
“He handled $300 the other day,”
suggested Elmendorf.
“But he didn’t know it.” replied Al
den. “1 don’t mean to imply anything
against Robinson, but I know very lit
tle about him, and 1 never trust a man
any further than I know him. I never
trust a man with money unless I know
the money side of him. It is possible
to be a good, straight fellow about ev
erything else and have a weakness
there.”
“I should think you ought to be a
pretty good business man,” said Elmen
dorf.
“I suffer from the same trouble that
you have,” replied Alden; “Pm too hon
est.”
“There’s nothing honest about me.”
protested Elmendorf gloomily. “It’s
my luck: I never have a chance. By
the way.” lie added, changing his tone,
“Robinson knew Miss Miller quite well,
didn’t he?”
“Only through me,” answered Alden.
“I used to get him to take messages to
her house quite often. It was conven
ient; he lived near by.”
“Yes,” said Elmendorf. “They told
me at the house that he came quite of
ten. Do you remember the first note
with her name on it that you ever gave
him? Well. 1 happen to know that he
took It to your bookkeeper. Willett, and
asked who Miss Miller was. He seem
ed to he quite luterested. Afterward
he told Willett that he was mistaken in
supposing that he knew Miss Miller.
It was another girl of the same name.”
“If you are trying to work Jack Rob
inson into this case.” said Alden, “you
are a long way off the track."
Elmendorf protested that he had no
such Intention, adding that he had no
rational theory of the case and never
expected to have one.
When they entered St. Winifred’s,
they met Dr. Kendall, who had Just
come from a visit to Elsie. He led
them into his own room.
“I’m sorry to tell you,” he said to
Alden, “that Miss Miller Is riot quite so
w’ell Just now. ✓ I wouldn't advise see
ing her. Mr. Robinson delivered your
message.”
“What message? When?" demand
ed Alden.
“He was here about half an hour
ago,” said Kendall, with Increasing
alarm as he noted the manner of the
others. “He said it was something
very important from you, and after
consulting with Miss Mat-lane I let him
speak with Miss Miller in private for a
few minutes. 1 thought she seemed
somewhat disturbed afterward, but she
told us that the matter was of small
consequence."
“I know nothing whatever about It.”
exclaimed Alden. "I did not scud him
here and had no Idea he was coming."
He turned to Elmendorf with a
shandy questioning glance.
"Well, you can search me,” said the
detective.
"You mean that you know nothing
about it?” asked Kendall anxiously.
"Less than nothing.” responded El
mendorf, "and I'm giving you straight
goods too.”
There was a knock at Kendall’s door,
and lie admitted a nurse, who said that
Miss Machine wisiied to see him. lie
did not wait to speak a single word,
but hurried away. Alden tried to get
au explanation from the nurse, but she
'professed to have none.
For nearly an hour the two men
waited with impatience, which finally
passed Aldeu's power of endurance.
"I must get some word from her,” he
said after much pacing of the floor.
"There must be serious danger or he
would not stay so loug.”
Elmendorf pointed out the obvious
possibility that Kendall might long
since have answered Miss Madaue’s
summons and have gone upon any of
a hundred other duties, but Alden
would not be thus quieted. He went
out to the office to ask in what way he
could communicate with the doctor,
and within a minute after his depar
ture Kendall entered the room.
He had a large glass jar in his hand,
which seemed to contain milk. This
he set down upon the table and imme
diately touched au electric button.
“How is she?” asked Elmendorf in a
tone betraying the most earnest solici
tude.
“Better, better,” replied Kendall. “I
think there’s no longer any danger.
Where is Mr. Alden?”
“No longer any danger!” exclaimed
Elmendorf, ignoring the question.
“Has there been any?”
“Well,” said Kendall, “she falnteu
again.”
“Again!”
“The first time was just before vou
came up." said Kendall. “Don't say
anything about this. We bad just giv
en her a little luncheon, and 1 thought
perhaps she might have had some small
stomach trouble; oppresses the heart
sometimes, you know. But I don’t like
this second attack Heart failure after
the injury and the nervous exhaustion
wouldn’t be the most uulikely thing in
the world, you know. Ah! Come here.
George.”
The last words were addressed to a
youth in uniform who had answered
the doctor’s ring. Kendall gave him
some money and whispered to him near
the door. When he turned, as George
departed, he saw Elmendorf standing
rigid, with his blue eyes unusually
wide open.
“What do you want of two white
mice?” he demanded.
“Really, now”— Kendall began.
“Look here.” Interrupted Elmendorf.
“If there’s anything of that kind go
ing on. I’m the man you need, bon’t
hide anything from me; for the little
girl’s sake, don’t do It. doctor.” ' '
Kendall hit his lips and hesitated.
Then he said suddenly, as steps were
heard in the hall:
“Get him out of here and come back.”
Alden entered and stopped short. In
his own peculiar fashion, with his eyes
on the doctor.
“It’s all right,” said Kendall. “Miss
Miller showed some indications of
weakness, but is doing nicely now. 1
should think you might see her about
5 o’clock.”
“Well, doctor. I’m glad everything’s
all right.” said Elmendorf. “I began
to be anxious, you were so long away.
But what you’ve said lias made me
feel easy again, and so I think the best
thing that Mr. Alden and I can do is
to try to got some light on Mr. Robin
son’s strange conduct. The man may
have struck some kind of a clew and
have rushed right off to verify it with-
put waiting to consult anybody.”
“I didn’t think of that.” responded
Alden. “It may be that you’ve found
the explanation.”
“I would suggest that you go to his
house,” said Elmendorf. “Meanwhile
I’ll telephone to your office and one or
two other places and see if I can get
track of him. But the likeliest place
is his bouse. Wait there for me. I’ll
join you before 3.”
This arrangement was agreed upon,
and the two men went out together.
Elmendorf was busy with the tele
phone for half tj hour, but he failed
He vat down and rented hie head on hie
haiuln.
to extract valuable information from
any person with whom he talked, al
though the chief of the detective bu
reau was one of them.
Returning to the hospital, he went at
once to Kendall’s room. In answer to
his rap and the sound of his voice the
door was unlocked and he was admit
ted. Ip passing lie glanced searchlngly
at Kendall's face, which wore an ex
pression of extreme anxiety; then lie
advanced to the table In the middle of
the room, from which he lifted a news
paper. thus revealing the bodies of two
little white mice.
Elmendorf regarded them with a look
of horror.
"Good Lord!” he gasped. “You don'f
mean it?”
Kendall nodded. Then lie sat down
and rested his head on his hands for a
few seconds, while Elmendorf gather
ed breath and heart for the next ques
tion.
“What was in the Jar—milk?”
“No,” replied Kendall. “It is a kind
of liquid food preparation. The basis
of it is milk; but. unfortunately.” he
added, looking up at the detective, "it
will keep.”
“Been in the room several days, you
mean?” said Elmendorf. "If it was or
dinary milk that had been dosed, we
could narrow it down to a few hours.
But this stuff—why, absolutely every
body connected with the case has had
a chance at it.”
“How shall I tell her?” muttered
Kendall. ,
“Her?”
The doctor gave a nervous start.
“Miss Machine,” he said. "This wili
be a hard story for her to hear.”
"You are right.” replied Elmendorf,
“after all the care she's taken, the de
votion she’s shown to that poor child,
who was nothing to her—worse than
nothing, in fact—an enemy, you might,
say.”
“Now. look here”— exclaimed Ken
dall hoarsely ns he got upon his feet
“No. no!” cried Elmendorf. “1 don’t
mean to accuse her. That would be
absurd. We mustn't waste time. What
was the poison?”
“I don’t know.” replied Kendall. “Of
course there was no time for analysis.
That’s why I tried it on these small an
imals. It’s some kind of a heart de
pressant—the very thing to use in a
c ase of this kind, where the condition is
one of weakness and especially where
there Is au injury in the region of the
organ.”
“But didn’t these mice show any
symptoms that you could recognize?”
asked Elmendorf.
“No; nothing definite I could name
several poisons that would answer all
the reouirements. It isn’t necessary to
know Immediately. The treatment
would be the same In any case. And
the danger is over, I believe.”
"Unless it’s somewhere else.” said'
Elmendorf; “in her medicines, per
haps."
“That wouldn’t be possible without
assuming something that can’t be as
sumed—not in my presence, at any
-rate."
“You mean that Miss Maclane”—
“Precisely.” said Kendall. “And as
there can be no thought of such a
thing we conclude that this infernal
thing”—and he tapped the jar with his
knuckles—“which was handy for ev
erybody, wide mouthed and all that—
Oh, I have been an idiot!"
“She’s been having this right along.”
said Elmendorf. “That might Indi
cate”—
“Nothing until we know Just what
the stuff Is and how mu^b of It we
have to deal with.” replied Kendall.
“The effects observed may come from
what she ate this noon or be the gen
eral result of small, repeated doses.”
“There’s one thing,” said Elmendorf
with decision—“this villainous act must
have been done by somebody who
knew that the food was there, by some
one who hud been in the room several
times”—
“Don’t!” groaned Kendall. “By heav
ens. I can’t bear to think of it! 1 like
Alden. I can’t believe this of him.
And—and she loves him; she loves him
Just ns much now as ever.”
“Miss Maclane?” said Elmendorf.
“My friend, I don’t believe it.”
Kendall looked up at him with a
blank stare and shook his head.
CHAPTER XVI.
ELSIE PERPETUATES A JEST.
fffi^y* *5r^g]HEY say.” remarked
Elsie, “that people
always feel particu
larly well Just be
fore they die. Do
you remember Bern*
hardt in ’Camille,’
the very lust words
before she dies In Armand’s arms: i
shall live! Ah, how well I feel!’ How
I cried when she said Jhat! And then
Gaston says. ‘She sleeps.’ Isn’t that a
lovely scene?”
“As it came to your mind at this mo
ment,” said Brenda. “1 Joyfully Infer
that you are feeling very mui-b better."
“You must think 1 am silly to talk
so much about dying,” said Elsie. “I
am soggy with sentimentality.”
“You have mentioned it on just four
occasions,” said Brenda, “including
this, but it seems often to us because
we don’t wish to lose you and to your
self because really and truly you don’t
wish to die. On the whole, you have
been ns clnrerful ns any girl could pos
sibly be under the circumstances, and
as for your sentimentality, my dear,
Pd give the world to have some of It
myself.”
“1 was going to say,” continued El
sie, “that my motive for continually
harping on It Is that you may know I
am not afraid, and afterward you may
tell Mr. Alden.”
This exchange of pleasantries upon a
cheerful subject occurred during the
time when Kendall was experimenting
with the white mice.
“I must have been pretty near it the
last time,” said Elsie. “It was double.
I scarcely knew what was the matter
when it began, even though I’d fainted
such a little while before. It was like
drifting, drifting away. You are sur
prised. You think you must stop, and
before you really have time to he
frightened you are gone. But I waked
Just for a second—Just long enough to
remember ami realize; then down,
down, down, sideways to the left there,
slipping away from the roqm and the
light. The last was a sensation that
they were lowering me Into the ground.
But I’m going to be cremated. You’ve
promised me that, Brenda.”
Then, catching the expression of
amused horror —If that can be — on
Brenda’s face, she laughed with the
most delicious and clear sound, like
the singing of birds.
“Oh. but it hurts to laugh.” she said.
"You mustn’t make me do it.”
“I?” cried Brenda. “You’re the first
that ever accused me of being amus
ing.”
"Do you know,” said Elsie, “that of
the two of us you’re the blue one? It’s
much more cheerful to talk about
dying Ota 11 to ‘roast’ oneself as you
do.”
“Roasting is popularly supposed to
be one step beyond dying,” replied
Brenda. “But I suppose the roasting
you mean is the saying of uncompli
mentary things. My child. 1 can’t help
it; 1 suffer by contrast.”
“With me?” cried Elsie. “Now you
r eally are amusing. If I had your hair
and eyes! Web, that’s absurd, of
course. But do you kuow l lie here
He came back with a t; >::blcT
Imitating your ways, your aim. gen
tle. sweet way of doing tilings? I’m
studying you. Brenda, and if I were to
play a society part again you’d see'
This is the way you say: ’Good morn
ing, Dr. Kendall. * * * Ah, thank you
so much. * * * Shall we see you again
soon? * * * Goodby.’ Vou make all
the little things mean something. That’s
dignity, personality. I haven’t any more
than a blade of grass, but I’m gaining
on it. If I live another week, l shall
die and go to Daniel Frohman’s No. 1
company instead of to heaven. I’d
rather.”
“Do I speak like that when 1 address
Dr. Kendall?” said Brenda, with a
slight, access of color. “Well, it may
be so. You are very clever, my dear."
“This is the way you hold your
arms when you walk.” said Elsie.
“Isu’t that pretty? Of course l can’t
do it very well lying down, but see the
Ungers and the ease of the wrist.
Were you taught to do that?”
“I used to have a governess who was
crazy on D^sarte.” replied Brenda.
“But she presently went crazy on all
other subjects also, and we had to send
the poor thing to an institution. I was
not aware of my debt to her.”
“You owe her a great deal.” said El
sie. "I wish I’d had a lunatic of that
kind in my family. I couldn’t afford to
have much teaching. Of course I had
some, but when 1 found what my
mother was enduring In order to pay
for it—well, I took an engagement with
the first tiling that came along. And it
was a barnstorming crew! We gave
six plays a week, and I had to learn a
loug part in every one of them. The
second Monday, in the afternoon, the
leading lady came into my room and
found me huddled up on the floor in
the corner gibbering—Just gibbering,
that was all—words out of all the
plays, as she told tue afterward, all
jumbled together, and 1 was cross eyed
with sitting up all night studying un
der little flickering gas jets. Yes, that’s
the way site found me. and the room
was as cold as a barn too. I had the
bed quilt wrapped around my shoul
ders and my arm through a hole in it.
“The leading lady yelled to the ju
venile man. and he really was Juvenile
—about 18, as I remember. She said,
‘Go get a glass of brandy!’ The Ju
venile Ilian went down to the bar and
came back with a tumbler solid full.
He had to carry it carefully In order to
keep from spilling any. The leading
lady was a temperance woman. She
never touched a drop of wine, and. In
fact, she was a regular straitlaced
New England pilgrim, but somebody
had told her once that brandy was
good for the thing that I had—‘white
brain,’ we eall It. The juvenile man
didn’t know how much brandy a per
son ought to take, and I—well, 1 didn’t
know anything. So I drank it all, and
then 1 lay down on the bed, and the
leading lady covered me with every
thing she could find, and pretty soon
the bed got up and stood on the ceiling,
and 1 didn’t care at all.
“When it came time to go to the the
ater (Brenda, it’s disgraceful, but 1
was so—so drunk that 1 couldn’t walk
straight) the leading lady got me up
and told the juvenile man to walk me
around the block, and he walked me
around about fifty times In the snow.
We were In a little Minnesota town,
and It had snowed for a week. When
lie took me to the theater, I was per
fectly sober, and I didn’t care for any
thing. I had no troubles whatever. 1
walked up to the stage manager, and 1
said cheerfully, ‘Well, what do we play
tonight?’ He told me, and >! couldn’t
remember ever to have heard of It, hut
1 got out my part and studied it while
I was making up.
“When I went on. I knew aliout half
of my first scene, which was the lon
gest one I had In the play. But I didn’t
care. I’d always been troubled with
stage fright more or less, but not this
time not a fright. When I forgot. I
waited calmly for the prompter, who
was off left, having a fit. By and by I
had to go across right and sit down by
a table. I knew I couldn’t hear the
prompter there, so I walked over ami
got the table and dragged it clear across
the stage, and the audience applauded
because I did it so naturally.
"Then I went crazy, and what him
pelled nrierward I scarcely know. But
when I came off after tin* thrilling cli
max of the scene I fell into the lead
ing lady’s anus, and site bagged me up
tight. She said: ‘You never played so
well as that before. You were like
Julia Marlowe.’ An.l -he kissed me on
both cheeks. Julia Marlowe was my
idol then, and I cried with lun'enly
Joy on the leading lady's neck. That's
all true, just as it hai'pened. Brenda,
and I never had stage fright after
ward.”
“Boor little Elsie!" said Brenda, kiss
ing her. "It was a hard school where
yon were taught.”
"It was." said Elsie. "Yet 1 think I
wouldn't have amounted to much any
way. How could any in rtal man fall
to see the difference between you and
me'.'"
“My child," said Brenda, "no man
can. Why, the brass knobs .on the
posts of this bed know the difference be
tween you and me—the vital, essential
difference. They love you in their lit- *
tie brass hearts. Everybody loves you.
Dr. Kendall, for a cold blooded sawyer
of bones who could amputate my head
without a trace of emotion, takes your
hand with the eternal reverence of
man for woman, and when he gives
you pain I can see ids own heart
shrink. But he treats me as if I were
a gentleman whom he had met at the
club."
Elsie opened her eyes so wide that
they seemed to light the room as she
stared at Brenda, whose cheeks were
flushed by her unusual earnestness.
"1 am glad to hear you speak like
that." site said.
Brenda rose and walked across to
the window. Then she returned to the
bed and took Elsie’s hand.
"1 ant going to open my heart to
you." she said. "It was not because
Clarence Alden preferred you to me
that I lost my self control that last
day. 1 cared nothing for you. despised
you; I admitted no comparison. It
was because, though the iutensity of
his own nature for a time deceived
him. he never really loved me at all.
Nobody ever loved tue. 1 am called
good looking, even a beauty, in the
society columns of the papers, and I
am so rich that I have attracted many
men. But not one of them was able to
present even a creditable counterfeit
of love (though some of them could
counterfeit almost anythiug else, from
good breeding to the national cur
rency) until Mr. Alden entered the
lists. That's hardly fair to him; he
was sincere, but mistaken.”
“Yet I didn’t have at all the feeling
that I have now,’’ she continued. “It
was only that last day that I became
enraged, mostly at myself. It is since
I have come here, since I have known
you. the most womanly of God’s crea
tures. that 1 have had some true com
prehension of my own lack, some hon
est sorrow for it.”
“Only since you have been here,’’
said Elsie. “How remarkable! But.
Brenda, it is sweet of you to talk this
way to me. and I am so glad, so very
glad! How long have you known Dr.
Kendall?"
“What a queer question!” said Bren
da. “About two years, but we haven’t
met a dozen times. By the way, he Is
going to he married.”
"He is going to be married!” exclaim
ed Elsie. “To whom?"
"I don’t know," Brenda - replied.
“From something he said the other
day, 1 ju^re there's a difficulty. I don’t
kpow the lady's name."
“Well.” said Elsie, letting her head
sink back on the pillow as one relieved,
“you will when it happens.”
"If you mean that lie cares anything
for me. you are quite mistaken.” said
Brenda. “His manner when he is in
this room should show that I am
nothing—a piece of furniture. Do you
know. It has inspired me with some
thing like Jealousy—jealousy merely of
the difference between you and me,
which Is the theme we started with.”
“I'll show you what Dr. Kendall
thinks of that difference,’’ said Elsie.
“Wait till he comes iu here again. I’ll
suggest that you’re going away, and
then you watch him. He’ll know that
I’m going to stay till I’m carted away.
But watch him." - . • ' •
“You must not do It." said Brenda.
But Elsie insisted that she should, and
they were still having a cheerful little
quarrel about it when they were inter
rupted by Kendall’s familiar rap.
The doctor entered, looking very seri
ous. but his brow cleared at the sight
of Elsie.
“Upon ray word.” he said, approach
ing the bed. “you are tbe miracle of our
species.” . (X
“1 am so w’ell.” replied Elsie, “that
Brenda is thinking of deserting me.”
Kendall had been holding Elsie’S
baud. He dropped it and slowly
straightened his tall figure till he stood
erect. The dead white mice seemed to
be dancing before his eyes.
“You can’t mean It.” he said, and his
face was bluish gray as he thought of
the certain Inference that Elmendorf
would draw from Brenda’s departure
at this time. “Brenda”— he began, "1
truly beg your pardon”—
"That Is my name,” she said, “and I
•hall always answer when you speak
It”
"1 thank you from my heart" said
be. “And—Brenda, you mustn’t go—
not now. I can’t explain. I was taken
unaware and may have said too much
already. Upon my soul, I don’t know
whet I have said. But don’t leave us
now”— n
In bis excitement his voice broke In a
queer little sob.
“I had no Idea.” said Brenda, “that
my presence was so Important.”
1 can’t think of anything earthly