Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1912)

THE CYLINDER'S SECRET 71 on! I knew something dreadful was going to happen ! ' ' But she did not dream how shockingly dreadful it would all be. After a little debate with herself, she went to the office as usual next morning. She had been alone for fully an hour before the door opened. She looked up, filled with dread. It was Richard. He stood with his hand on the doorknob, his face was haggard, his eyes set sullenly. ' ' He was laying for me when I got home," he said, tonelessly. "He threatened, he called me about everything in the gutter. He's going to disinherit me tonight, unless I give my promise never to see you again, and so forth. ' ' He smiled. "Richard, dont you realize " "Everything," he said. "I restrained myself last night, and I intend to try again until I 'm out of this mess. I 'm going to leave tomorrow. ' ' "I think I'd better, too." "I hear him coming." Richard left her. Little did she realize under what circumstances they were again to meet. Everything went along in its usual businesslike way, and the only reference to the vital subject was Mr. Johns' single remark: ' ' I shall not need your services after Saturday, Miss Lane. I can say nothing but good words of your efficiency — as a stenographer, ' ' he added, with little change of tone. As she stepped thru the Johns gate on her way home she was accosted by her brother. The boy had been waiting since early morning for Richard to bring him his beloved model. He was nearly famished, very much excited, and in tears or feverishly angry, by turns. "You'd better come home with me now, Dave. I have reasons for knowing you had better wait until tomorrow." But the boy was obdurate. "Very well," she said, wearily, ' ' wait for him. I have troubles of my own. ' ' She gave no further thought to the matter. At home she pleaded a sick headache, and sought her room. After a sleepless night, she rose early, leaving the house even before seeing her mother. After walking for what seemed hours, she made her way to the Johns mansion. A hasty look at her watch showed her that she was still an hour early. So weary that she could scarcely stand, however, she rang the bell. The white face of Bangs, the butler, greeted her. "Then you've heard, miss?" She saw at a glance there was tragedy here. "No," she murmured, slipping in, and grasping the solid hall seat to fortify herself. ' ' Master was murdered last night ! ' ' She slid limply into the seat, as tho struck a physical blow. When she came to, it was with the heart and soul of a woman many years older who had passed thru life's darkest trials. The bitterest waking thought was that she had been only shocked and not surprised. She was alone, but further down the hall she could hear strange voices. With calmness and strength of purpose she approached the door of the study and looked in. Richard sat, handcuffed, in a chair, surrounded by four very determined and serious men. Bangs stood behind them. One of them was administering the third degree. The young man answered all questions quickly and clearly. 1 ' Is this your gun ? ' ' The detective put a revolver in his hand, which trembled a little. "Yes," he replied, turning it over. "That gun fired the shot that killed your father, boy. And is this yours ? ' ' The man held up the stub of a cigaret. ' ' Yes. You '11 find more on the floor if you look around. ' ' "Put every word down, Riley. When were these smoked?" "Last night." "You were in this room with your father last night?" The man turned a quick look toward his companions.