Picture Play Magazine (Oct-Nov 1915)

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24 PICTURE-PLAY WEEKLY "Who is he?" "He's my man, Miss Frances, my promised man ; and he's in father's gang. He's the one told me to run and take this straight to Mr. Durant or — or you, Miss Frances, because he says there's some crooked work going on over that gun." "Then why didn't he tell Mr. Pinckney ?" "Because he said Mr. Pinckney wouldn't stop it, Miss Frances!" "What made him think that? Quick, Lucy, tell me !' "Because he said Mr. Pinckney was the one give father the drink — whisky, it was — when he came to take charge of the gang." "Yes ?" "And as soon as Mr. Durant had seen the gun into the furnace and gone away, Mr. Pinckney and Mr. Marsh and father sent off Jim and every other furnace man who knows a thing. And Jim says they're going to spoil the Sommers gun somehow ; so you'd better get your father, or Lieutenant Sommers, if he's here, or some one else to come at once, and " "I will, Lucy — I will ! And thank you very much ! But here — here is Lieutenant Sommers' train now! Father!" She ran excitedly to the motor car as the foreman's daughter went off. "Here is the train ! Remember, he cannot leave till twelve o'clock to-night, anyway ; so please don't give him those telegrams first. And don't take him to the house first, either ! Take him — take us at once to the works ! Please don't ask why? Only please take us straight to the works !" "Why, Miss Durant!" Dick's voice greeted her. "Mr. Sommers !" She clutched his extended hand and pulled him toward the car. He seemed to wish to say something to her first before greeting her father, but she jumped quickly into the tonneau. "Father, here is Lieutenant Sommers ! Come in quickly, please !" she continued, as the young officer hesitated for a word with her father. He complied. "Now, John, to the works, as fast as you can drive !" She was aware, as she sank back in her seat, that her father, though betraying no surprise, must think her suddenly gone crazy. She did not dare to think what theory Dick might be forming to account for her manner. She heard him inquire anxiously for telegrams. But Mr. Durant put him off by telling him that he would get them at the house. Then Dick turned to speak with Frances. She answered him absently, but fairly composedly, she thought ; though her father came to her rescue more than once. Finally he relieved her entirely by starting an account of the work done upon the gun, which continued until the car slowed before the entrance to the great works. Etherington's voice welcomed them. "Well, in time, after all. Lieutenant Sommers ! Mr. Durant ordered your gun into the finishing furnace, and saw it in himself before he left, at half past three. He promised us that you would be here in time to see it out, but when we heard of the trouble with your train we were afraid you couldn't make it. But there is still time to spare. The gun stays in the furnace for nearly an hour yet." "Then we came to be sure that it stays there, anyway, Etherington !" exclaimed Frances. "What do you mean?" They were preceding Dick and Mr. Durant into the works. "I don't know what I mean or what to think!" Frances confessed. "Only I've just been warned to bring father and Mr. Sommers here as soon as I could." "Why?" "Because some one in the office has been making Smith drunk, to spoil Mr. Sommers' gun !" "What!" The girl repeated her statement as they entered the passage leading to the furnace room. "Who told you that?" demanded Etherington. Frances hesitated. "Lucy Smith," she replied, at last. "Lucy Smith ! Did you let her tell your father that crazy lie, too?" "No. She told me that you were the one who made her father drunk, and it was no use to tell you anything." "Where did Lucy get that?" "O'Leary told her." "Oh, I see, now. O'Leary — he's in her father's gang, and after Smith's job at any cost ! I'm not surprised that Lucy's fool enough to believe him — even against her father! But you, Frances "It isn't against my father!" "No ; but at least it's against me !" "I have told you I couldn't believ ! it." "Yes, but you brought them on herl at once, nevertheless !" "I thought something might be wrong without blaming you. Would you rathe they hadn't come?" Pinckney did not reply, but turnei and waited for the others. "This is the furnace room, wher your gun is cooking now, lieutenant," hi explained, nodding to the great door be fore them. "If you're not afraid o spoiling your clothes and don't mind i little heat, come right in." "I. think I'll be all right if I just put this over my dress." Frances surveyed herself, smiling, as she put on a rough cloth cape which she had found. "You're not going in, Frances?" "Why not? I'm sure I've been in to see guns forged a hundred times before." "But on this hot night !" Pinckney pushed the door open a little and let some of the hot air from within play 01. their faces. "You'll not let Frances in to-night, sir?" he appealed to Mr. Durant. "Oh, she can go, if you or Mr. Sommers will look after her," replied the old man, as his daughter appealed to him. "I had intended to see this through myself," he continued regretfully, "but as this day has rather done me up, I think, after all, I'll wait for you in the office." Pinckney gave in gracefully, and, pushing the door wide open, led the two within. "Your gun is cooking there, in number two, lieutenant," he said, indicating the closed door of the huge furnace. "Oh, Etherington !" Frances cried to Pinckney as she followed them. "Smith is drunk !" But her cry was lost even to herself in the roar and fury of the furnace room. Around them roared a dozen great, glowing furnaces — monster ovens which seemed to be almost alive. Amid the gigantic traveling cranes which bore great cylinders and ingots of white-hot forged steel — tons of searing metal which swung and slid recklessly overhead— threescore men moved in gangs, disciplined, collected, cool. They pushed at cars and carriages bearing loads of sparkling steel ; they pulled at cranes and props, gesticulating to each other as they shifted the huge, seething