Motion Picture Story Magazine (Aug 1912-Jan 1913)

82 THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE ally, as he approached. His laugh arrested the little look of concern on the girl's face, and she smiled in answer. '.'Yes, I am," she confessed at last. "I'm looking for the home of James Forsythe, and I dont know where he lives. ' ' ' ' Forsythe ? The div — begging your pardon a thousand times " In his surprise, Dan had allowed the ejaculation to escape him involuntarily. He had expected that a convict would be the one to look for the home of James Forsythe, not an innocent, laughing-eyed, sweet-faced little girl from the country. For once in his life, he stammered — then just as rapidly his self-possession returned. ' ' And it 's me, ' ' he continued, ' ' that '11 be just bubbling over with joy to take you there. Hand me the satchel. We'll be there in three shakes of a dead lamb's tail," he laughed. "You know, I wouldn't know him even, if I saw him," the girl volunteered, as she hurried to keep pace with Dan's gigantic stride. "I'm coming to be his ward. ' ' "Huh?" Delaney had stopped. "It's interesting you are, all of a suddint. Tell me the whole story. ' ' And, as they walked along, the whole story came — of an old friendship between James Forsythe, the rich and respectable brother of a convict, and Jack Clark, a miner; the death of the latter, and the giving of Rosalie, the daughter, into the keeping of Forsythe. "So, you see, I dont know him at all," came the voice of the girl. "I just " "No more do I," answered De^ laney. "I never saw his face in my life, but I know where he lives, and, bless us, here 's the street. Now, down there just three doors " He stopped, and looked after two hurrying policemen. He watched, with rather staring eyes, as they came to the Forsythe home and hastily ascended the steps. His head shot forward. His clue had been found by others! His huge hand caught Rosalie 's arm and urged her forward. "Hurry," he said, tersely — "trouble." Ten minutes later, Dan Delaney, merely a traveling salesman who had assisted Miss Rosalie Clark to her new guardian's home, stood in the livingroom of a mansion, looking intently at a black-bearded, pallid man as he told his story. In the next room, partly screened by the glass doors which separated it, lay the crumpled form of a man in convict clothes. A tiny stream of red crossed his face from a bullet-hole in the right temple. His smooth-shaven face, greenish pale in death, seemed still to bear some of the pallor of prison. The blackbearded man was trembling with the excitement of all that had occurred. The police had asked their questions and departed to summon the coroner, but Dan Delaney, traveling salesman, was still curious. "A funny thing it is, these brothers," he said, by way of comfort. "To think that a man like you would have one mean enough to be a convict. And he came right in and tried to rob you ? ' ' A look of pain crossed the other's face. "I was reading when the butler brought me a card on which he had scribbled a name," came the answer. "I allowed him to enter, but when he came I refused to shake hands with him. He drew a revolver and ordered me to the safe, telling me to give him every cent I had. I demurred, and he struck me. We struggled. I got the revolver away from him — and pulled the trigger. ' ' James Forsythe shuddered. "If you'll pardon me," he asked, "I'll " ' ' Go right ahead, ' ' came the cheery voice of Dan Delaney. "I'm knowing exactly how you feel. It's myself that'd feel no better. And you say the fight took place right in front of the safe?" "Yes— I " "Go right ahead. I'll stay a minute, if you dont mind, until the little lady comes down from taking off her hat. She said she wanted to thank me, or some girlish little thing like