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THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 1928. ---- -- THE DAILY BRITISH WHIG , v Publishers, BY A. 8 M. IF WINTER COMES Copyright In Canada, 1922, by McClelland & Stewart, Ltd. Toronto. HUTCHINSON ~r- * pushed the door behind him with a re- solution cxpressive of his desire to shut away from himself all creatures of the world and be alone, --be left entirely alone. By habit he climbed the stairs to his room. He collapsed into a chair. 3 'His head was not aching; but there throbbed within his head, ceaselessly and enormously, a pulse that seemed to shake him at its every beat. It was going knock, knock, knock! He began to have the feeling that if this fright- ful knocking continued it would beat | its way out. Something would give way. Amidst the purposeful reverbera. tions, his mind, like one squeczed back in the dark 'corner of a lair of beasts, crouched shawing, appealing. He was the father of Effie's child; he io murderer of Effie and of her child! He was neither; but the crimes were fastened upon him as ineradicable pig- mentyupon his skin. His skin ywas white but it was annealed black; there was not a glass of the mirrors of his - past actions but showed it black .and reflected upon it hue that was black- er yet. He was a betrayer and a mur- derer, and every refutation that he could -produce turned to a brand in his hands and branded him yet more deeply. He writhed in torment. For ever, in every hour of-every day and night, he would carry the memory of that fierce and sweating face pressing towards him across the fible in that court. No! It was another face that passed before that passionate coun- tenance and stood Jike flame before his eyes. Twyning! Twyning, Twyning Twyning! The prompter, the goader of that passionate man's passion, the in- stigater and instrument of this his ut- ter and appalling destruction. Twyn- ing, Twyning, Twyning! He ground his teeth upon the name. He twisted in his chair upon the thought. Twyn- ing, Twyning, Twyning! Knock, knock, knock! Ah, that knocking, that knocking! Something was going to give way in a minute. It must be abat. ed. It must. Something would give way else. A feverish desire to smoke came upon him. He felt in his pockets for his cigarette case. He had not got it. He thought after it. He remember- ed that heghad started for Brighton without it, discovered there that he had left it behind. He started to hunt for it. It must be. in his room. It was not to be seen in the room. Where? He rentesabered a previous ocrasion of searching for it like this. When? Ah, when Effie had told hin she had found it lying about and had put it--of all absurd places for a cigarctte case--in the back of the clock. Ten to nne she had put it there again' now, The very last thing she had done for him! Effie! He went quickly fo the clock and op- ened it. Good! It was there. He snatch. ed it up. Something else there. A foid- ed paper. His name pencilled on it! Mr. Sabre. J ' She had left a message for him! She had left a message for him! That cigarette casenbusiyess had been deliberately done! Sabre stumbled into his house and} He fumbled the paper open. He could not control his fingers. gc fumbled it open. He began to read. Tears stood in his eyes. Pitiful, oh pitiful. He turned the page,--knock, knock, knock! The knocking sudden ly ceased. He threw~up his hand. He gave a very loud cry. A single note A note of extraordinary exaltation] "Hal" 1 [ He crushed the paper between his hands. He cried aloud; "Into miy hands! Into my hands thou hast de- | fivered him!" 2 He opened the paper and read again, his hand shaking, and how a mosi terrible trembling upon him, Dear Mr, Sabre, ¢ i I wanted you to go to Brighton so I could be alone to do what I am just going to do. I see now it is all im- possible, and I thought to have seen it before, but I was so very fond of my little baby and I never dreamt it would be like this: But you see they wont let me keep my little baby and now' have made things too terrible for you. So I see the only thing to do is to take myself out of it all and take my litt]e baby with me. Soon I shall explain things to God and then I think it will be quite all right. Dear Mr. Sabre, when I explain things to God, I shall tell him how wonderful you have been to me. My heart is filled with gratitude to you. I cannot express it; but I shall tell God when I explain everything to him} and my one hope is that after I have been punished I shall be allowed to meet you again, and thank you-- there, where everything will be under. _stood. He turned over. \ '= I feel I ought to tell you now, be- fore I leave this world, what I never was able to tell you or any one. The father of my little baby was Haréld Twyning who used to be in your of- fice. We had been secretly engaged a very very long time and then he was in an officérs' training camp at Bour- nemouth where I was, and I don't think I quite understood. We were go- ing to be married and then he had to go suddenly, and then hé was afraid to tell his father and then this happened and he was more afraid. So that was how it all was. I do want you, please, to tell Harold that I quite forgive him, only I can't quite write to_him. And dear Mr. Sabre, I do trust you to be with Harold what you have always been with me and with everybody-- gentle, and understanding things. And I shali tell the Perches, too, about you and Mr. Fargus. Good-by and may God bless and reward you for ever and ever, Effie 5 Im He shouted again, "Ha!" He cried fagaip, "Into my hands! Into my Faai He abandoned himself to a rather horrible ecstasy of hate and passion. His face became rather horrible to see. His face became purple and black and knotted, and the veins on his fore head black. He cried aloud; "Harold! Harold! Twyning! Twyning!" He Ph (dl | LA / | ul ll y; = BRAND M7 lhteibng Quaty CHASE a SANBORN'S lid: Sold only in %4, 1 and 2 Ib. airtight tins. + Whole, ground er fine ground for Tricolator or Percolator use. CHASE & SANBORN, - MONTREAL. Had Bad Pains In Her Heart Nerves Were Very Bad Mrs. John Case, R. B. No. 4, St. Catharines, Ont., writes: * 1 wish to say that I have been bothered very tiuch with my heart and nerves. I doctored with two different doctors, but did not find much relief. I would have such bad pains in my heart, at times: 1 would be almost afraid to roxe or breathe, and at night I could nat sleep. - If the pains in my heart were' gone, my nerves would be. 80 bad I could not lie still and would obuly get a little sleep by being tired jput.. My stomachvwas also very bad and I could eat but very little, and then only certain things or I would have so much distress which always made nly heart worse. . I had been suffering for nearly two years until one day I was talking to our druggist about the way I felt. He kdvised me to give Milburn"s Heart znd Nerve Pills a fair trial. I have ww taken five boxes and am feeling 50 much better, I am able to do my own work, and can eat anything 1 rish. I cannot praise "Milburn's | Heart and Nerve Fills loo highly." 'Price 650&. a box at all dealers or viailed direct on receipt of price by The T. Milburn Co., Limited, Toronto, Ont. rather horribly mimicked Twyning. "Harold's such a good boy! Harold's such a 'good, Christian, model boy! Harold's never said a bad word or had a bad thought. Harold'® such a good boy." He cried out: "Harold's such a blackguard! Harold's such a blackguard! A blackguard and the son of a vile, infamous, lying, perjured blackguard." His passion and his hate surmount- ed his voice. He choked. He picked up his stick and went with frantic striding hops to the door. He cried aloud, gritting his teeth upon it, "I'll cram -the letter down his throat, I'll cram the letter down his throat. I'll take him by the neck. I'll bash him across the-face."And I'll cram the let- ter down his throat." The cab driver, his labour upon the buckle finished, was resting on his box with the purposeful and luxurious rest of a man who has borne the heat and burden of the day. Sabre waved his stick at him, and shouted to him, "Fortune's office in Tidborough. Hard as you can. Hard as you can," © He wrenched open the door and got in: In a moment, the startled horse scar- cely put into motion by its startled driver, he put his head and arm from the window and was out on the step. "Stop! Stop! Let me out. I've some- thing to get." He ran again into the house and bundled himself yp the stairs and into his room. At/his bureau he took a drawer and wrenched- it open so that it came out in his hand, swung on the sockets of its handle, and scattered its contents upon the floor. One article fell heavily. His service revol- ver, He grabbed it up and drepped on his hands and knees, padding eagerly about after scattered cartridges. As he searched his+ voice went harshly, "He's hounded me to hell. At the very gates bf hell I've got him, got him, and I'll have him by the throat and hurl him in!" He broke open the breech and jammed the cartridges in, counting them, "One, two, three, four, five six!" He sapped up the breech and jammed the revolver in his jacket pocket. He went scrambling again down the stairs, and as he scrambled down he cried, "I'll cram fhe letter down his throat, I'll take him by the neck. I'll bash him across the face. And TlI cram thegletter' down his | throat. When he's sprawling, when he's looking, perhaps I'll out with my gun and drill him, drill him for the dog, the dog that he is." All the way down as the cab pro- ceeded, he alternated between shouted behests to the driver to hurry and re- petition of his ferocious intention. Ov- er and over again; gritting his teeth upon it; picturing it; in vision acting it so that the perspiration Streamed upon his body. "I'll cram the letter down his throat. I'll take him by the neck: I'll bash him across the face, and I'll cram the 'etter' down his throat." Over and over again; vision- ing it; in his mind, and with all his muscles working, ferociously perform- ing it. He felt immensely well. He felt enormously fit. . The knocking was done in his brain. His mind was tingl- ing clear. "I'll cram . .. I'll take... I'll bash . . . I'll cram the letter down his throat." fr He was arrived! He was here! "In- to my hands! Into my hands." He passed into ghe office and swiftly as 'could go up the stairs. He en- countered no one. He came to Twyn- ing's door and put his hand upon the latch, Immediately, and enormously, so that for a moment he was forced ock, knock, knock. Curse the thing! Never mind. In! In! At him; At him! He went in. Cede him. Knock, knock, knock. Curse the thing. There was Twyning's neck, that brown strip between his collar and his head, that in a minute he would. catch him by .. . No, seated thus he would catch his hair and wrench him back and cram his meal | upon him: Knock, knock, knock. | Curse the thing! i He said heavily, "Twyning. Twyn-| ing, I've come to speak to you about | your son." od Twyning slightly twisted his fack in his hands so as to glance up at Sabre. His face was red. He said in an odd, thick woice, "Oh, Sabre, Sabre, have | you heard?" ' | Sabre said, "Heard?" "'He's killed. My Harold. My boy. My boy, Harold. Oh, 'Sabre, Sabre, my boy, my boy, my Harold} He began to sob; his shoulders hea. | ving. i Sabre gave a sound that was just a whimper. Oh, ironyi-of fate! Oh, cyni- | cism incredible in dts malignancy! Oh, cumulative touch! To deliver him this his enemy to strike, and to present him for the knife thus already stric-| ken! No sound in all the range of sounds | whereby man can express emotion was | possible to express this emotion that! now surcharged him. This was no| pain of 'man's devising. This was a special and a private agony of the! gods reserved for victims approved! for very nice and exquisite experi-| ment. He felt himself squeezed right down beneath a pressure squeezing to his vitals; and there was squeezed out | of him just a whimper. He walked across to 'the fireplace; and on the high mantle-shelf laid his | arms and bowed his forehead to the marble. | Twyning was brokenly saying, 'It's! -- good of you to come, Sabre, I feel it. After that business, I'm sorry about it, | Sabre: I feel your goodness coming to | me like this. But you know, you al-| ways knew, what my boy was to me. | My Harold. My Harold. Such a good | boy, Sabre. Such a good, Christian | boy. And now he's gone, he's gone. Never to see him again. My boy. My son. My son!" Oh, dreadful! And he went on, distraught and pit- iable. "My boy. My Harold. Such a good boy, Sabre. Such a perfect boy. My Harold!" The letter was crumpled in Sabre's right hand. He* was constricting it in his hand and knocking his clenched knuckles on the marble. "My boy. My dear, good boy- Oh, Sabre, Sabre!" I~ : He dropped his right arm and swung! it by his side; to and fro; over the fender--over the fire; over the hearth --over the flames, "My Harold. Never to see his face again! My Harold." (To be Continued.) Great nove and good sense soon part company. -- rm In the Realm of Women-----Some Interesting Features - A » Where climates are most severe women depend on this famous method to in- sure a fresh supple shin Unharmed--the soft skin - of her face, though damp, "and cold cut through rock." 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