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SONS AND FATHERS
by
HARRY STILLWELL EDWARDS.
Published byThe J. W. Burke CompanyMacon, Georgia
The First-Prize StoryIn The Chicago Record's series of "Stories of Mystery"
This story--out of 816 competing--was awarded the FIRSTPRIZE--$10,000--in The Chicago Record's "$30,000to Authors" competition.
Copyright 1896, by Harry Stillwell Edwards.Copyright 1921, by Harry Stillwell Edwards.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. TWO SONS. CHAPTER II. THE STRANGER ON THE THRESHOLD. CHAPTER III. A BREATH FROM THE OLD SOUTH. CHAPTER IV. THE MOTHER'S ROOM. CHAPTER V. THE STRANGER IN THE LIBRARY. CHAPTER VI. "WHO SAYS THERE CAN BE A 'TOO LATE' FOR THE IMMORTAL MIND?" CHAPTER VII. "BACK! WOULD YOU MURDER HER?" CHAPTER VIII. ON THE BACK TRAIL. CHAPTER IX. THE TRAGEDY IN THE STORM. CHAPTER X. "GOD PITY ME! GOD PITY ME!" CHAPTER XI. IN THE CRIMSON OF SUNSET. CHAPTER XII. THE OLD SOUTH VERSUS THE NEW. CHAPTER XIII. FEELING THE ENEMY. CHAPTER XIV. THE OLD SOUTH DRAWS THE SWORD. CHAPTER XV. "IN ALL THE WORLD, NO FAIRER FLOWER THAN THIS!" CHAPTER XVI. BEYOND THE SHADOW OF A DOUBT. CHAPTER XVII. "IF I MEET THE MAN!" CHAPTER XVIII. HOW THE CHALLENGE WAS WRITTEN. CHAPTER XIX. BROUGHT TO BAY. CHAPTER XX. IN THE HANDS OF THEIR FRIENDS. CHAPTER XXI. "THE WITNESS IS DEAD." CHAPTER XXII. THE DUEL AT SUNRISE. CHAPTER XXIII. THE SHADOW OVER THE HALL. CHAPTER XXIV. THE PROFILE ON THE MOON. CHAPTER XXV. THE MIDNIGHT SEARCH. CHAPTER XXVI. GATHERING THE CLEWS. CHAPTER XXVII. THE FACE THAT CAME IN DREAMS. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE THREE PICTURES. CHAPTER XXIX. "HOME SWEET HOME." CHAPTER XXX. THE RAINBOW IN THE MIST. CHAPTER XXXI. THE HAND OF SCIENCE. CHAPTER XXXII. THE FLASHLIGHT PHOTOGRAPH. CHAPTER XXXIII. THE TRADE WITH SLIPPERY DICK. CHAPTER XXXIV. THE FACE OF THE BODY-SNATCHER. CHAPTER XXXV. THE GRAVE IN THE PAST. CHAPTER XXXVI. THE PLEDGE THAT WAS GIVEN. CHAPTER XXXVII. "WHICH OF THE TWO WAS MY MOTHER?" CHAPTER XXXVIII. UNDER THE SPELL. CHAPTER XXXIX. BARKSDALE'S WARNING. CHAPTER XL. THE HIDDEN HAND. CHAPTER XLI. WITH THE WOMAN WHO LOVED HIM. CHAPTER XLII. THE SONG THE OCEAN SANG. CHAPTER XLIII. THE DEATH OF GASPARD LEVIGNE. CHAPTER XLIV. THE HEART OF CAMBIA. CHAPTER XLV. THE MAN WITH THE TORCH. CHAPTER XLVI. WHAT THE SHEET HID. CHAPTER XLVII. ON THE MARGINS OF TWO WORLDS. CHAPTER XLVIII. WAR TO THE KNIFE. CHAPTER XLIX. PREPARING THE MINE. CHAPTER L. SLIPPERY DICK RIGHTS A WRONG. CHAPTER LI. A WOMAN'S WIT CONQUERS. CHAPTER LII. DEATH OF COL. MONTJOY. CHAPTER LIII. THE ESCAPE OF AMOS ROYSON. CHAPTER LIV. HOW A DEBT WAS PAID. CHAPTER LV. THE UNOPENED LETTER. CHAPTER LVI. "WOMAN, WHAT WAS HE TO YOU?" CHAPTER LVII. FRAGMENTARY LIFE RECORDS. CHAPTER LVIII. "THE LAST SCENE OF ALL"
SONS AND FATHERS
CHAPTER I.
TWO SONS.
At a little station in one of the gulf states, where the east and westtrains leave and pick up a few passengers daily, there met in the summerof 1888 two men who since they are to appear frequently in this record,are worthy of description. One who alighted from the west-bound trainwas about 29 years of age. Tall and slender, he wore the usualfour-button cutaway coat, with vest and trousers to match, which,despite its inappropriateness in such a climate, was the dress of theyoung city man of the south, in obedience to the fashion set by thenorthern metropolis. His small feet were incased in neat half-moroccos,and his head protected by the regulation derby of that year. There wasan inch of white cuffs visible upon his wrists, held with silver linkbuttons, and an inch and a half of standing collar, points turned down.He carried a small traveling bag of alligator skin swung lightly overhis left shoulder, after the English style, and a silk umbrella in lieuof a cane. This man paced the platform patiently.
His neighbor was about the same age, dressed in a plain gray cassimersuit. He wore a soft felt traveling hat and the regulation linen. Hewas, however, of heavier build, derived apparently from free living, andrestless, since he moved rapidly from point to point, speaking withtrain hands and others, his easy, good-fellow air invariably securinghim courtesy. His face was full and a trifle florid, but very mobile inexpression; while that of the first mentioned was somewhat sallow andsoftened almost to sadness by gray eyes and long lashes. As they passedeach other the difference was both noticed and felt. The impressionsthat the two would have conveyed to an analyst were action andreflection. Perhaps in the case of the man in gray the impression wouldhave been heightened by sight of his two great commercial traveling bagsof Russia leather, bearing the initials "N. M. Jr."
There was one other passenger on the platform--a very handsome youngwoman, seated on her trunk and trying to interest herself in a pamphletspread upon her lap, but from time to time she lifted her face, and whenthe eyes of the man glanced her way she lowered hers with a half-smileon her lips. There was something in his tone and manner that disarmedreserve.
An officer in uniform came from the little eating-house near by andapproached the party.
"Are there any passengers for the coast here?" he asked.
"I am going to Charleston," the young lady said.
"Where are you from, miss?" Then, seeing her surprise, he continued:"You must excuse the question but I am a quarantine officer andCharleston has quarantined against all points that have been exposed toyellow fever."
"That, then, does not include me," she said, confidently. "I am fromMontgomery, where there is no yellow fever, and a strict quarantine."
"Have you a health certificate?"
"A what?"
"A ticket from any of the authorities or physicians in Montgomery."
"No, sir; I am Miss Kitty Blair, and going to visit friends inCharleston."
The officer looked embarrassed. The health-certificate regulation andinland quarantine were new and forced him frequently into unpleasantpositions.
"You will excuse me," he said, finally; "but have you anything thatcould establish that fact, visiting cards, correspondence--"
"I have told you," she replied, flushing a little, "who I am and where Iam from."
"That would be sufficient, miss, if all that is needed is a lady's word,but I am compelled to keep all persons from the east-bound train whocannot prove their residence in a non-infected district. The law isimpartial."
"And I cannot go on, then?" There were anxiety and pathos in her eyesand tones. The gentleman in gray approached.
"I can fix that, sir," he said, briskly addressing the officer. "I amnot personally acquainted with Miss Blair, but I can testify to what shesays as true. I have seen her in Montgomery almost daily. My name isMontjoy--Norton Montjoy, Jr. Here are my letters and my baggage is overyonder."
"Are you a son of Col. Norton Montjoy of Georgia, colonel of the old'fire-eaters,' as we used to call the regiment?"
"Yes, indeed," and a happy smile illumined his face.
"My name is Throckmorton," said the officer. "I followed your fatherthree years during the war, and you are--by Jove! you are the brat thatthey once brought to camp and introduced as the latest infantry recruit!Well, I see the likeness now."
The two men shook hands fervently. The officer bowed to the lady. "Thematter is all right," he said, smiling; "I will give you a paperpresently that will carry you through." The new friends then walkedaside talking with animation. The q
uarantine officer soon got into waranecdotes. The other stranger was now left to the amusement of watchingthe varying expressions of the girl's face. She continued low over herbook and began to laugh. Presently, with a supreme effort she recoveredherself. Montjoy had shaken off his father's admirer and was coming herway. She looked up shyly. "I am very much obliged to you for getting meout of trouble; I----"
"Don't mention it, miss; these fellows haven't much discretion."
"But what a fib it was!"
"How?"
"I haven't been in Montgomery in two weeks. I came here from an aunt'sin Macon."
"And I haven't been there in six months!" His laugh was hearty andinfectious. "Here comes your train; let me put you aboard." He securedher a seat; the repentant quarantine officer supplied her with a ticket,and then, shaking hands again with his father's friend, Montjoy hurriedto the southwester, which was threatening to get under way. The othertraveler was in and had a window open on the shady side.
There were men only in the car, and as Montjoy entered he drew off hiscoat and dropped it upon his bags. The motion of the starting train didnot add to his comfort. The red dust poured in through the open windows,invading and irritating the lungs. He thought of the moonlit roofgardens in New York with something like a groan.
"Confound such a road!" and down went the book he was seriously tryingto lose himself in. His silent companion's face was lifted toward him:
"A railroad company that will run cars like this on such a scheduleought to be abolished, the officers imprisoned, track torn up androlling stock burned! But then," he continued, "I am the fool. I oughtnot to have come by this God-forsaken route."
"It is certainly not pleasant traveling to-day," his companion remarked,sympathetically, showing even, white teeth under his brown mustache.Montjoy had returned to his seat, but the smooth, even, musical tones ofthe other echoed in his memory. He glanced back and presently came andtook a seat near by.
"Are you a resident of the south?" It was the stranger who spoke first.This delicate courtesy was not lost on Montjoy.
"Yes. That is, I count myself a citizen of this state. But I sellclothing for a New York house and am away from home a great deal."
"You delivered the young lady at the junction from quite a predicament."
"Didn't I, though! Well, she is evidently a fine little woman andpretty. Lies for a pretty woman don't count. By the way--may I ask? Whatline of business are you in?"
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