San Antonio Sunday Light (San Antonio, Tex.), Vol. 46, No. 69, Ed. 1 Sunday, March 28, 1926 Page: 78 of 92
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CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE club steward very tired
and sleepy might have shown
resentment at being aroused
so early in the morning; even an
old member may not do that with
impunity. But there was some-
thing very forbidding about Mich-
ael’s countenance; he was calm
almost sullen and that wasn’t
usual in him.
He had breakfast ate hearti’y
in spite of his niood for the long
drive had sharpened up his appe
tite. He went to the room that
had been set aside for him during
the last few days bathed and
changed his clothes. At ten
o'clock he was on his way to
Grebe’s Mansions in search of this
person Osram.
He hadn’t the faintest idea of
the identity of Osram not even
when he stood before him and was
invited to step into the flat. On
the last occasion they met Michael
was not quite himself.
Mr. Osram outside his business
office was a man whom the aver-
age person would pass in the street
without giving him a second
thought. He knew Michael even
if the other had no knowledge of
him bevond the fact that Mrs.
Bendy had associated him with the
arch enemy.
“I have come to ask the where-
abouts of Mr. Marcus Swete” he
said accepting the armchair indi-
cated and leaning back with af-
fected tranquility of mind. “Busi-
ness!”
“Oh yes” said Osram bowing.
“May I ask how you learned that
I might be able to help you Mr.
Anscombe?”
“The housekeeper told me—-
gave me your address.”
“You have been down to Plump-
ton?”
“Yes. Stayed there with Swete
some time ago. Ran down last
night.”
“I’m sorry. I'm afraid that
you will not be able to see Mr.
Swete personally for some days”
said Osram “but perhaps I may be
able to attend to the/business for
you if you will state its nature.
Has it anything to do with the
Lazarus transaction?”
“Then you know all about that?"
“I know a good deal about mat-
ters that interest Mr. Swete” was
the reply. “In fact I am com-
missioned to transact any business
in his name while he is away—any
business such as yours for in-
stance.”
“Secretary?”
“One of them Mr. Anscombe."
“I want to know exactly where
he is.”
“Ah you ask too much —too
much for me. One never knows
where Mr. Swete may be or —or
what he may be doing."
“I agree with yoti. . . What d.d
you mean about the business with
Lazarus?”
“It was I who informed Mr.
Anscombe your father that the
debts were cancelled.”
“You! What the devil did you
know about it?”
“I am one of Mr. Swete's secre-
taries as I said just now Mr. Ans-
combe. And will you please to
remember that this is my little
flat and I am uncommonly jealous
of its reputation. Your expletive
—I don’t like that sort of thing.”
“You! A money-lender!”
“A money-lender Mr. Ans-
combe. If there is any difference
between vulgarity and the —the
playfulness of a.i English gentle-
man I haven't yet assimilated
it. With regard to the can-
cellation of'this debt—the debts
I should say—you had better
leave matters where they stand
for a few days. 1 will see to it
that they are properly executed —
the deeds of cancellation. But
now that you are here I might as
well convey to you the conditions
on which Mr. Swete was pleased
to concel the debts.”
“What had he to do with the
debts? They were contracted with
Lazarus.”
“One can buy debts Mr. Ans-
combe just as one buys shares
stocks and that sort of thing.
Sometimes they are very profita-
ble; sometimes they amount to a
dead loss —as in this case. It is
the first time during my connec-
tion with him at all events that I
have known Mr. Swete make so
crass a mistake. . . . Please keep
your seat Mr. Anscombe. . . . Ah
I see that you recognize me now.
There was that affair at the South
street house when you behaved
like a hooligan. I confess that
you rather startled me on that oc-
casion but I have become more
accustomed to the manners of the
—the better classes since then.”
“Swete bought those debts —
eh?”
“Cost him nearly sixty thousand
unless we are successful in saving
the cargo. That should reduce
the amount considerably.”
“Why should he buy the debts?
I don’t believe he thought he could
make a bean out of them so don’t
try that on me.”
“Mr. Swete’s motives” said
Osram quietly “are not for me
to inquire into. Nor you. If you
will refrain from interrupting I
will read you Mr. Swete’s instruc-
tions to me so far as this cancella-
tion is concerned.”
“I would rather see him person-
ally.”
“No doubt"—dryly—“but he
has so many other matters to keep
his mind occupied. . . . Please re-
main here; I have his written in-
structions in the next room; I will
bring them in.”
He was gone only a few minutes.
He returned with a typewritten let-
ter and held it so that Michael
might if he wished read it with
him. . . .
“The amounts may be wiped out
completely but both Adam Ans-
combe and his son Michael must
be made to understand that there
are conditions. The house in Cav-
endish Square is heavily mort-
gaged; let Anscombe look out im-
mediately for a small country
place such as is fitting for one in
his station of life yet not more
expensive than an upkeep of three
thousand a year. This must be
done immediately and you will take
steps to clear off the mortgage on
the house and then offer the prop-
erty for sale. As for Michael the
son I have decided that the kindest
thing we may do for him is to
send him abroad—not to one of
the colonies for they are sick of
the type being foisted on them.
I’ll get him a position in the Bel-
gian Congo. That ought to keep
him quiet. ...”
Michael said: “The swine!”
Then he realized that he was not
in the position of dictator that if
he meant to carry through the proj-
ect he had been nursing in his
mind during the last twelve hours
he must be prepared to accept any
conditions rather than arouse sus-
picion of his intentions.
He asked no questions of Osram
about Stella. All that he was anx-
ious to learn now was Swete’s
whereabouts and he would track
him if he had gone to Vancouver
via Cape Horn or the Pacific.
“So that is the position Mr
Anscombe” said Osram quietly.
“I am further instructed to make
you an allowance of not more than
two hundred pounds to liquidate
any minor debts you may have
contracted such as club chits
tradesmen's bills and so forth.”
“I’m certain that if I could see
Mr. Swete for a moment ”
“You would not induce him to
part with another shilling. Believe
me.”
“When do you expect him back
in town?”
“One never can say Mr. Ans-
combe.”
“Thanks. I’ll get away. Per-
haps you’ll be good enough to
’phone me at the club when he
returns. I’d like to —to thank him
You know what I mean?"
“Perfectly Mr. Anscombe. . . •
Good-morning.”
Michael went back to the club.
He lunched dined and slept there
that night; but he didn’t drink
much; he was afraid to give way
to the yearning for it lest he
should be dissuaded in some man-
ner from the great act of revenge
which he contemplated.
And he was in the club on the
following evening when young
Tooper came in. Tooper caught
sight of him the moment he was
inside the club smoking-room and
came quickly across to him.
“Micky old son I must see you
in private. You’ve got a room
here haven’t you? Let’s stagger
along to it. Poor old boy! I
thought my case was rotten but
yours poor old blister is infinitely
worse.”
Michael went with him up to
the bedroom and Tooper went
through a deal of ceremony in the
way of making certain that the
door was closed and that they were
free from eavesdroppers.
“Micky boy I hate to have to
tell you all I know but I owe it to
you boy—l do.”
“Get on with it” said Michael
irritably.
“It’s about the Swete person.”
Tooper stroked his smooth chin and
screwed up his eyes as though he
were in a deuce of a dilemma
whereas in truth he wasn’t sorry
in the slightest. He really couldn’t
forgive Michael for knowing as
much as he did about his own
wretched domestic affair. “It ap-
pears Micky that there was a wo-
man in the house that night when
the pater’s myrmidous swooped
down on the jolly old dug-out.”
“Well? What’s that got to do
with me?”
“Now. now naughty boy! Don’t
take a header off the deep end.
You and I have to look at these
matters like men. Absolutely fear-
lessly don't you know. Positively
u.-el< - leaving ’em to the priceless
old dear like the pater and —your
pater. They don't get the right
angle if you catch me.”
“f or God’s sake get it out
To-.per. Can’t you see I’m not my-
Who was the woman down
then if it wasn’t Labina?”
“Well I hate to tell you but—-
but it happened to be Miss Ans-
combe! On my honor Mickey!
God knows I feel for you old
thing because I know and you
know exactly what brand of skate
the fellow is.”
Michael swallowed the rage
that made havoc in his throat. He
hated this pimple-faced fellow in
front of him. and he hated Swete
ten thousand times more.
“I'd rather you didn’t bring my
*CI 192«
sister's name into this affair
Tooper” he managed to say. “I
know that she had occasion to see
Swete who had proposed to her
to inform him that—that he had
no hope in that direction. You
know what I mean.” He prided
himself on the brain wave that
came over him at that instant.
“You see” he added “she was
deeply incensed against Swete be-
cause of the abominable liaison
that concerns your late wife.”
And having said that he was con-
scious of having scored heavily at
least once in his career.
Tooper said: “Yes that’s aw-
fully good of her. All the same
I’m sorry that she should have
been caught in the backwash as
we might say. Still there’s no
harm done Micky—what? As a
friend I thought I owed it to you.
We must stick together. So many
of the beggars in the club talk like
raving lunatics; they ought to be
muzzled.”
Then he went downstairs leav-
ing Michael to think it all out.
He passed the word to two or three
in the smoking-room and there
were some furtive glances in
Michael’s direction when he came
down. Within an hour or so Mich-
ael had the martyr’s crown firmly
sewn on his head.
At ten o’clock that night Toop-
er having been home to dine spoke
to him again; he had returned
post-haste to the club to impart
the information gleaned from one
of his father’s friends.
Marcus Swete had returned to
his house at Plumpton!
By eleven o’clock Michael Ans-
combe was racing southward in the
car which he had hired on-the pre-
vious occasion. His head was
aswim with brandy and vindictive-
ness. The revolver fully loaded
was in the right hand pocket of
his overcoat.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
MRS. BENDY was not in the
house when he reached
Downlands having gone to
Lewes; a maid answered his im-
perative ringing. He brushed past
her the instant she said that Swete
was upstairs; he wasn’t disposed
to argue or ask questions of a ser-
vant. He knew the whereabouts
of the study and rightly assumed
that he —ould find his man there.
Indeed he had seen the shadow
of him on the blind as he alighted
from the car.
As he reached the lan ling the
door of the study was thrown
open.
Marcus Swete his dinner jacket
clinched in front so that his waist
looked ridiculously slight came to
the threshold and flung up his
head in surprise. Michael rushed
along the stretch of landing to-
wards him and Swete marking
the fiery eyes and dishevelled head
(for he had dropped his hat while
rushing upstairs) stepped quickly
back into the sanctuary of the
study. At the same instant and
with wonderful presence of mind
he called to the maid who had
come half way up the stairs in the
wake of Michael: “All right! Go
to your room.”
. He held Open the door of the
study so that Michael might enter
but stepped aside so that he might /
close the door immediately he was
in.
Michael’s rush carried him to
the middle of the room. He
wheeled his head lowered after
the manner of a tough infighting
pugilist. Marcus Swete was stand-
ing with his back to the door he
had just closed. Certainly his
cheeks lacked color but he was
amazingly cool and collected in
his survey of the frenzied man
who had forced his way into the
house. He was the first to speak:
“Is this housebreaking business
becoming a habit with you Ans-
combe?” he said. “I don’t mind it
myself but it disturbs the servants
—puts ’em off their feed you
know.”
“At last” said Michael and no
• stage villain ever put so much
soul into the exclamation. “Eve
been waiting for you Swete—-
watching for you and now I’ve
got you.”
Swete smiled as though he be-
lieved that calm was his surest
protection in the circumstances. *
“Come come” he said persua-
sively. “I’ll try to overlook it
again Michael but you know you
are becoming a bad lad.”
“Where's my sister?” Michael
demanded. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I haven’t the slightest inten-
tion of lying to you or anyone”
said Swete the smile scurrying
away before a stern threatening
expression.
"Where is she?”
“I believe she is finishing her j
dressing" said Swete. "Please 1
don’t raise your voice; it might
alarm her. We didn’t get home
until an hour ago and ”
“Then she is here? With you?”
“With me” Swete agreed and
now his eyes were fixed on that
right hand pocket of Michael’s
coat for the infuriated man had
thrust in his hand.
“My God! You have the <fTron-
terv to stand there and confess
it?”
“Why not?” said Swete.
“Why not you scoundrel?”
From the next room came the
voice of Stella. She was calling:
“Are you there? Is that you?”
Then a tap on the door that
separated the study from her room.
“All right” Swete called out as
though he feared she were coming '
in. “I’ll be with you in a moment
dear!”
“Dear!” I
toy ▲m^rkao Weekly !ae. Great Hr Ha tn Huhfa I
An infernal fury marked
Michael’s face. He drew the
weapon from his pocket
Swete cried out: “You fool!
Put that down!” And almost be-
fore the words were out he leaped
diving towards the floor to escape
the bullet and to grtfsp his man
bv the legs.
But Michael fired twice!
The first bullet pierced the door
panel; the second struck Swete in
the head. He dropped his length
on the floor rolled over until ho
was face downward and was still!
Stella in that other room
shouted in fear as the report of the
shot rang through the house. She
flung open the door and hurled
aside the heavy green curtains of
the portiere.
Michael dazed by his own act
terror-stricken now that he had
carried out his threat stood gazing
stupidly at the quickly-spreading
stain on the carpet.
“Michael!” she cried out in
horror.
He looked at her his loose lips
wide apart his head nodding as
though the effort of breathing
were exhausting.
"Michael! What has happened?”
Then she saw the form on the
floor and ran towards it falling
on her knees beside it.
“Michael!” —for the third time.
“What have you done?”
He struggled to his feet and
groped his way to an armchair.
“Killed him” he said and made
a grimace that was horrible to look
upon—a twisting of the nerves
a spasmodic biting at nothing.
“Killed him” he said again; “for
what he has done to you. . . .
You! Oh Stella! . . . His mis-
tress!”
She had raised Swete’s head; it
rested on her knee. The white
crepe . de chine petticoat was
saturated with his blood; her hands
were red where she had grasped
the head.
“Mistress!” She repeated the
word in a whisper—a whisper that
throbbed with agony. “I—l am
his wife Michael! We were mar-
ried three daysago . . . Oh God!
God pity me . . . Michael! Go
away—quick! Go while there’s
time 1"
Michael was not in a physical
condition to go anywhere quickly.
The shock administered to his
nerves by his own impulsive act
was intensified by her words: “I
am his wife!” If the stupefied
brain could have cleared itself in
that minute he might have rea-
soned that marriage was a possi-
bility which the healthy mind
would not have overlooked—the
mind that had not been weakened
and atrophied by excess.
From the chair to which he had
lurched he stared at her with eyes
that were eloquent of the utter
vacuity of the mind. She was
striving to check the red flow; and
even in her agony she was capable
of appreciating not only Michael’s
stupefying horror but the terrible
position in which he had placed
himself. She sought to arouse
him with quick nervous whispers
of advice intermingled with ex-
planations that might help* him to
understand the position. . . .
“Mrs. Bondy will be back short-
ly. .. . Telephone for a doctor.
. . . We’ve been married three
days—secretly. . . . The tele-
phone! Not that one—-the one-
downstairs in the hall. Lewes ex-
change; ask for a doctor quickly.
. . . Michael for pity’s sake try—-
try to collect yourself. . . . Why
did you do it? Oh God! How
we’ve misjudged him ! . .
Miichael! The telephone! Thin
come back here. . . . Hark! That's
Mrs. Bendy. Ask her to come up
quickly. . . . Say that I did it
Michael. Do you hear? I was
playing with that revolver—leave
it on the floor! Playing with it.
Marcus—Marcus was showing nv
how to hold it and it went off.
Quick Michael! Call her; then go
away.”
With an effort he struggled to
' his feet and reached the door. But
Mrs. Bendy had already come up
the stairs. Stella told her of what
had happened; and when the time
came for reflection Stella thanked
God for the resourcefulness of a
simple-minded country woman.
“Dead! No my pretty. I’ve
known worse accidents when
they’ve been rabbit shooting and
stayed too long over lunch.” Then
to Michael: “Help me got him on
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She and Michael carried the in-
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the doctor. Between the three of
them they managed to stay the
flow and render such aid as earned
the commendation of the old coun-
try doctor.
Swete recovered consciousness
within an hour; only Stella and
the doctor were at the bedside at
the time. He said “Accidpnt”
as the doctor bent over him then
slipped away again into the mist.
The doctor nodded reassuringly.
“He’ll have a furrow right across
the top of his head for the rest of
his life” he said. “He’ll need to
wear a skull cap if he’s sensitive.
Bless my soul madam you’re
shaking to pieces!” He gave her
sal volatile said he preferred
brandy himself and that if she
would give herself a hard vigor-
ous shake she might be able to go
downstairs and get him some. He
wanted her out of the way for a
moment so that he might question
Swete should he recover ana talk.
Stella went for the brandy then
rejoined Michael who was back in
the study huddled up in the arm-
chair and staring vacantly in front
of him. She gave him a stimulant
for he was badly in need of one
and told him of the optimism of
the doctor. He asked the question
with his eyes.
“We were married secretly” she
said again. “Leave it at that.”
“I was mad Stella.”
“The world is mad I think.” she
said with a sob.
“You’ve suffered so much old
girl. Only just realized it. Told
father so. Had it out with him.”
“I’d rather you didn’t talk
now Michael. I want to go back
to the doctor.”
‘“All right. I’ll stay here. I
shan’t run away old girl. You’re
not going to take the blame.”
She pointed to the telephone on
the study desk.
“Get through to Mr. Osram”
she said. “Ask him to come down
immediately.”
Osram came down by car. Stella
met him in the hall and told him
of the happenings. She told him
the truth for he appeared to
sense it. The doctor was still with
the injured man who had opened
his eyes for a few minutes and
actually smiled. When Osram
spoke to him he was rewarded with
a faint pressure of the hand and
a whisper: “Don’t frighten the
(Continued on Page 16)
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Another is my Youth Cream.
Famous experts have combined in
that a dozen of the best helps 1 have
found. It fosters feeds and pre-
serves the skin like nothing else I
know. Night or day you will never
go without it when you know.
Another is my powders—the best
we stars have found. We who in
Moviedom and Stagedom seek su-
preme attractions. You will never
find elsewhere I think powders
which compare.
Let me send you samples of all
three. The coupon with ten cents
will bring them. Also my Beauty
Book. Learn how much my best
helps mean to you. Your whole life
may be changed.
For Trial Size 44A-A. W.
Mail to H<lna Wallace Hooper. 536
l«Hke Shore Drive. Chicago. Kncloee
10c pontage and poking on sample of
Youth Clay and Youth Cream.
Name
Addreioi
In addition to trial aizen ordered above
we will Include Free without pontage or
Pgckina chargee i'iv aantole ol eithei
QYouth Cream Powder or QF»<e Powder
While Fleah— Peach —Brunette
(Check kind and whade deMired)
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San Antonio Sunday Light (San Antonio, Tex.), Vol. 46, No. 69, Ed. 1 Sunday, March 28, 1926, newspaper, March 28, 1926; San Antonio, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1631548/m1/78/: accessed May 24, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; .