The Daily Transcript (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 3, No. 42, Ed. 1 Friday, July 30, 1915 Page: 3 of 4
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NORMAN DAILY TRANSCRIPT
^SERIAlT^
I STORY J
Chronicles
Addington
Peace
By B. Fletcher Robinson
Co-Author with A. Conan Doyla of
"The Hound of the Baiker villci,M ate.
fv opyriif'ui, iyiJ, by \V. G. Ctaupnau)
THE TRAGEDY OF
THOMAS HEARNE
(Continued.)
"I saw you by the calm and circle
above the Black brook this after-
noon," he went on. "Is that to be the
scene of your present Investigations?"
"1 have no dellnlte plan at present,"
X said with a snap.
He took a long look at me and
stopped his questions. I left the table
as soon as I could do so decently, rout-
ed out the landlord and engaged a
private room. 1 had had enough of
taking meals with a neolithic ex-
pert
It was blowing hard next day, a
flerce northwester that cleaned the
clouds out of the sky like a sponge
washes a slate.
Just after eleven 1 started out to
make a further examination of the po-
sition. I wasn't such a fool as to
march up to the cairn with old
Hearne and a warder or two, as it
might be, spying on me from another
hillock, so I went down the high roaU
that lay as white and clear across the
gray moor as a streak of paint, until
I had left the place some distance be-
hind me. No one, so far as I could see,
was in sight, and presently I turned
off the road along a disused cart
track that seemed to lead in the di-
rection I wanted. Its ancient ruts
were filled with sprouting heather,
and the short moor turf had covered
up the hoof-marks with a velvet sur-
face.
1 had walked a good quarter of a
mile, when, rounding a curve of the
hill, I found the old road explained In
the ruins of a small farm, one of those
melancholy memorials of a time when
frozen meat was unknown, and it
paid a man to breed cattle and sheep
and cultivate a wheat field or two,
«ven on Dartmoor. The roof had
fallen in, and the woodwork had been
carried away, but the stone walls of
the house and outbuildings still re-
mained undefeated by a hundred
years of storm. A weather-beaten
cherry trtee was pushing out its
spring leafage before the door.
Leaving the farm, 1 began to climb
the cairn hill, as I must call it for
want of a better name, which shel-
tered the farm from the north and
west.
It was rough walking, for the heath-
er was set thick with granite bould-
ers. At last I reached the top, skirt-
ed the mound set about with stones
where the prehistoric chief lay sleep-
ing—and very nearly stepped upon
the body of that old fellow, Thomas
Hearne.
Luckily for me he never turned hts
head. The wind on the face of the
hill was blowing in great gusts like
the firing of a cannon, and my foot-
steps had been drowned in Its thun-
der. I crept back behind a heap of
tumbled rocks and dropped on my
hands and knees, watching him
through a convenient crevice. He lay
fiat on his chest, while he covered
the gang at work In the new ground
below with a small telescope.
It might be curiosity, of course, for
many men regard a convict as some-
thing abnormal, something that Is as
pleasant to stare at as if he were the
cannibal king at a fair. And yet that
Seemed a weak explanation. Was he
In with the police? Had they got
news that an attempt at rescue was
to be made? If so, I stood the best
chance in the world of finding myself
in the county Jail within the week.
There was nothing to bo gained by
imagining bad luck. I walked back to
the inn, and sat down to a study of
the district with maps I had brought
with me. There was only one rail-
Toad within many miles, and that was
the single track tlfht ran up from Ply-
mouth to Princetown village. At the
first signal that a convict had escaped
the station would be full of warders;
so that outlet was barred. South of
the moor, fifteen miles away, ran an-
other branch line ending at Ashbur-
ton. But I was determined to leave
the railroad alone. The stations would
be the first places to be watched by
the police. Torquay, some thirty miles
away, might easily be reached by a
good horse and trap within the day.
I could hire one for a month through
the landlord, with the excuse that 1
wanted it for my exploring expedi-
tions amongst the stone remains. It
would surprise no one If it were seen
off the roads with i luncheon-basket
prominently displayed. So I decided,
I questioned the girl who brought
the meal to my sitting-room as to old
Hearne, but she could give me little
Information. He had arrived at the
Inn a couple of days before I ap-
peared, and had spent most of his
time in long walks on the moors. She
thought he had a friend amongst the
prison officials, for she bad twice
seen blm coming out of the great
gates down the street. That was all
—and It left me more anxious about
him than before. It was becoming
rery plain that before 1 took any de-
cided step towards the escape, I must
make sure of this man's business on
the moors.
After dinner I walked into the Inn
bar to buy a smoke, and found
Hearne with hts back to the tire, talk-
ing to the landlord. As I entered,
they both dropped into an uneasy
silence. I was certain they had been
discussing me, but I didn't want to
let them know it, and so began to
talk big about the scenery. 1 stayed
down for about half an hour, and then
allowed that I would get back to some
writing I had to do.
"I'm glad you admire the moor, Mr.
Kingsley," said the landlord, holdtng
back the door for me. "Nothing quite
like it in the states, I should think."
Upon my soul, 1 was as near as
may be to owning I had never been
there. But 1 remembered that 1 was
Abel Kingsley, of Memphis, just in
time.
"No," I said, "it's something quite
unique."
"It's a wild place, Rir," he went on.
"Very wild and desolate. You should
take a walk one night when the moon
is full, as it is now. Then you would
understand how the stories of ghost
hounds and headless riders and devils
in the mires first started. Mr. Hearne
here is going to take my advice."
"Tonight?" I asked, turning to the
old fellow.
"No, Mr. Kingsley, I am too tired
to think of It tonight," he said. "To-
morrow or the next day, perhaps."
I wished them a good evening and
tramped up the stairs to my sitting-
room, which looked over the moors
at the back of the Inn. It was cer-
tainly a splendid night, with a great
searchlight of a moon drawing the
strange tors—as they call the granite
caps of the hills—In black silhouette
upon the luminous skyline. I lit a
pipe and sat there in the shadows,
thinking, thinking. It was pleasant
to be a decent man again, to wear
clean linen and boots with real soles;
to wash and shave and brush myself
dally. I was back in my Eden days
before the fall, when six hunters were
in my stable, and men and women
were glad to know Jack Henderson
of Lowood Hall in the best of coun-
ties; jes, I was away from Prince-
town village In the midst of happy
memories when I came to my senses
with the sound of a soft tap-tapping
under the window. There were tip-
toe skulking footsteps on the gravel
of the yard; Heaven knows but my
ear had been well trained to such
steps as those.
I crept softly to my window and
peered out. The man was almost
across the yard, moving in the shadow
of the pig-sties. As he stopped at the
wicket-gate that opened on to the
moor, he turned his head to the moon.
It was Hearne again.
I decided on that Instant. I slipped
on my boots and ran down the stairs.
The landlord was locking up for the
night as I came to the front door.
"I'm going to take your advice." 1
said with a laugh.
"Very good, sir; I will sit up for
you."
"No, no, give me the key. Has Mr.
Hearne gone to bed?"
"Yes, sir, about ten minutes ago."
"His room is on the first floor,
isn't it?"
"No, sir; he chose one on the
ground floor. He preferred it."
The wiser man, thought I. He need
ed no door when he had but to open
his window and step out.
When I got to the back of the inn
Hearne was a good four hundred
yards away, climbing a low ridge. As
he disappeared over Its edge 1 set off
running at top speed, Tor I saw that
In so broken and rugged a place 1
should have to keep close to his heels
or I should lose him altogether. It
was well I did so, for when I reached
the crest of the rise he had vanished.
Presently, however, I caught sight
of him again, walking very fast down
a hollow at right angles to the line he
first took. It led In the direction of
the cairn hill.
It was hard work, that two miles'
stalk across the moor. Sometimes I
ran, sometimes crawled, sometimes
lay flat on my chest with my head
buried In the heather like an ostrich.
Once I tried to cut a corner across
what seemed a plot of level turf and
struggled back, panting, from the
grasp of the bog with the black slime
almost to my waist. But I took great
credit for my performance since the
old man tramped steadily forward,
showing no sign of having seen me.
He did not climb the cairn hill as
I had half expected, but skirted along
the base until he came to the track
which led to the ruined farm. Down
this he walked quickly and passed
through the doorway of the main build-
ing. I remained upon the slope of the
hill, waiting for him to reappear.
Five, ten minutes went by, and then
my curiosity got the better of my
prudence. I determined to go down
and see what he was about.
The place was sheltered from the
gale, but I could hear It yelping and
humming in the rocks above, now and
again a gust came curling up the val-
ley, setting the heather whispering
around me. I crept forward over the
soft turf of the cart track, reached
the gap where the door had been, hes-
itated, listened, and then stuck in my
head.
I had been a boxer in my time, or
that would have been the end of me.
As 1 ducked, the heavy stick flicked
off my cap and crashed into the wall
with a nasty thud. I jumped back,
and he came storming out through
the doorway like a madman. I never
saw more beastly fury in a man's
eyes I Bide-stepped, and he missed
me again—it was a knife this time.
Then I woke up and let him have it
with my right under the ear. Ha
staggered, dropping the knife. As he
stooped to pick it up, I Jumped for
him and in ten seconds more was
sitting on his chest, pegging out his
arms on the turf. He tried a strug-
gle or two; but he soon saw that I
was far the stronger man, and so
lay panting, with a hopeless despair
In his face, that, in a man of his age
was shocking to witness. He had
tried to kill me, but, on my honor, I
felt sorry for him.
"Well, Mr. Hearne," I said, "and
what does this mean?"
"Too old," he gasped "Twenty
years ago—different. How did you
suspect? It was justice—nothing but
bare justice, by Heaven!"
"Now, what in the world do you
think I am?" I asked him, in great
surprise.
"A detective. You couldn't deceive
me."
I got to my feet with a curse at
tfle muddle I had made of It, and he
sat up staring at me as If he thought
I had gone clean crazy of a sudden.
"I'm no detective," I said angrily,
"though I was fool enough to believe
you were one."
"Then why did you follow me to-
night?" he asked, with a quick sus-
picion.
"Why did you try to kill me?" I
said. "The truth is, Mr. Hearne, you
and I are playing a risky game. Is
It to be cards on the table, or are we
to separate and say no more about
It?"
He sat watching me for a time with
a puzzled look. Plainly he was in
great uncertainty of mind.
"Perhaps I have nothing to tell."
he said at last.
"A man does not attempt to mur-
der detectives unless he has a crime
to conceal."
"That Is true," he said, nodding his
head; "very just and true.
There was nothing to be gained by
a long bargaining of secrets with
him. Whatever his business, he could
speedily discover mine if he chose.
If I were honest with him he might
return the confidence.
"I am arranging for the escape of
Julius Craig, now doing his time in
the prison yonder," I told him.
"Julius Craig!" he echoed, with
w!< l eyes. "The escape of Julius
Craig?"
"Yes. Do you know him?"
He burst into a scream of hysteri-
cal laughter, swaying his body to and
fro, and pressing his hands to his
sides as if trying to crush the uncan-
ny merriment out of him; and then,
before 1 guessed what he was about,
the old fellow was upon me, with his
arms about my neck in mad em-
brac!.
"Welcome, comrade," he cried. "I,
too, have come to find a way out of
Princetown Jail for Julius Craig."
It took a good live minutes and a
pull out of a flask to get him back
to hard sense. Then he told me his
story sitting on a fallen stone under
the old cherry tree.
Craig was dearer to him than any
brother, he said, with a burst of open
sincerity. There was that between
them that he could never forget while
life remained to him. He had heard
how the man had come under prison
discipline, and had come to help him
escape if that were humanly possible.
Of me or my London employers he
knew nothing whatever.
He had been shown over the pris-
on, having obtained a pass from an
influential friend, and while there
had learned the place where Craig
was daily employed. Yesterday from
the cairn hill he had satisfied himself
that the convict was working in the
gang.
He had crept out this evening to
examine the stream and hedge which
divided tho new enclosure from the
moor. When he saw me on his track,
his suspicions as to my business were
confirmed. Either he must give up
his project or my mouth must be
stopped. So he tempted me into the
ruined farm. The rest I knew.
He spoke in an easy, pleasant voice,
with a perfect frankness and good
humor. It never seemed to occur to
him that he had done anything un-
reasonable, anything to which a level-
headed man could object. I stared at
him in growing amazement.
There seemed, indeed, only one so-
lution before me—that he had become
partially insane.
"You must understand my position,
Mr. Kingsley," be concluded. "I am
not a lunatic, but 1 have made up
my mind in this matter of Julius
Craig. Any one who Is foolish enough
to come between us must stand aside
or take the consequences. Towards
yourself, for example, I had no ill will.
In fact, I rather liked you. But you
must admit that, as a detective, your
presence was excessively Inconven-
ient. Now that I know the truth, I
welcome you as a most valuable ally.
I am prepared to trust you absolute-
ly. Come, what are your plans?"
I told him as we walked back to
to the inn. He expressed himself an
admirer of their simplicity as we part-
ed for the night Mad or not, I had
found an assistant who would be of
great help to me. So I let it stay at
that and slept like a rock till nine
next morning.
(CHRONICLES TO BR CONTINUED.)
EIN6 LIFE with
JOHN HENRY
GeoitjeY Hobart
John henry Goes Sleighriding
SAY! isn't it great to get all wrapped
up in fur robes in a fine old sleigh
and let a fine old horse drag you over
the fine old snow on a line old coun-
try road?
Answer: It is.
It's great if all the ingredients are
properly proportioned, but nine times
out of ten something goes wrong with
the horse or the sleigh or the snow or
Ihe road and you find yourself four
miles from nowhere, sitting ou an ice
hummock and screaming for transpor-
tation, while the harsh winds of win-
ter are biting their initials on your
southern exposure.
Peaches and I went to viBit Uncle
Peter and Aunt Martha upstate, and
when friend wife found the ground
covered with snow, right away she
began to sit up and beg a sleigh ride.
She said that the sweet jingle-jangle
of the bells would bring rest to her
nerves after a season of trying to
cross the streets in New York without
being struck by a taxicab, so Uncle
Peter told me where to find a livery
stable and off I hiked.
Anyone who has never lived In a
semi-rural town will doubtless recall
what handsome specimens of equine
perfection may be found in the local
livery stable—not.
The liveryman in the town where
Uncle Peter lives is named Henlopen
Laffenwell, and he looks the part.
I Judged from the excited manner
In which he grabbed my deposit
money that he had a note falling due
next daj.
Then Henlopen shut his eyes, count-
ed six, turned around twice, multi-
plied the day of the week by 19, sub-
tracted 7, and the answer was a cream-
colored horse with four pink feet and
a frightened face.
The gargoyle gazed at me sadly,
sighed deeply and then backed up
into the shafts of a Bleigh that looked
something like a barber's chair and
something like the tumbril Marie An-
toinette used the afternoon she went
to the guillotine.
The liveryman said that the name of
the horse was Lohengrin, because it
seemed to go better In German.
I drove Lohengrin up to Uncle Pe-
ter's residence and all the way there
we ran neck to neck with a coal cart.
Lohengrin used to be a fast horse,
but quite some time ago he stopped
eating his wild oats and now leads a
slower life.
When I reached the gate I whistled
for Peaches, because I was afraid to
get out and leave Lohengrin alone.
He might go to sleep and fall down.
Friend wife came out, looked at the
rig and then went back in the house
and bade everybody an affecting fare-
well.
There were tears In her eyes when
she came out and climbed into the
sleigh. She said she was crying be-
cause Aunt Martha wasn't there to
see us driving away and have the
laugh of her life.
We started off and we were rushing
along the road, passing a fence and
sized hunk of ice which was to be my
argument, Lohengrin came out of his
trance and started off, but Peaches
forgot her instructions and spoke
above a whisper and he stopped
again.
Then I took the reins, cracked the
whip, shouted a few paragraphs of
the language General Villa uses in
Mexico when he captures a Federal
soldier, and away we rushed like the
wind—when it wasu't blowing hard.
The hours flew by and we must have
gone at least half a mile, when an-
other Kerosene W agon came bouncing
toward us from the opposite direction.
In It was a happy party of ladies and
gentlemen, who were laughing and
chatting about some people they had
Just run over.
Lohengrin saw them coming and
stopped still in the middle of tho road.
Then he hung his head as low as he
could, and I believe if that horse hud
been supplied with hands he would
have put them over Ills ears.
The people in the Bubble began to
shout at us, and I began to shout at
the horse, and friend wife began to
shout at me, while Lohengrin stood
there and scratched his left ankle with
hiB right heel.
Then the machine made a sudden
jump to the right and hiked by us at
the rate of about a $100 fine, while
the lady passengers In the cabin de
luxe stood up and began to hand out
medals to each other because they
didn't run us down.
Ten minutes later Lohengrin came
to and looked over his shoulder at us
with a smile as serene as the morning
and once more resumed his mad ca-
reer onward, ever onward.
We were now about two miles from
home, and suddenly we came across a
big red touring car which stood in
front of a roadhouse, sneezing inward-
ly and sobbing with all its corrugated
heart.
Lohengriu saw the machine before
we did.
He knew there must bo an automo-
bile somewhere near, because he
stopped still and quietly passed away.
I jumped out and tried to lead him
by (lie Coroner'B Delight, but he plant-
ed his four feet in the middle of the
road and refused to be coaxed.
I took the horse by the car and
whispered therein just what I thought
about him, but he wouldn't talk back.
I told him my wife's honor was at
stake, but he looked my wife over and
his lips curled with an expression
which seemed to say, "Impossible."
It was all off with us.
Lohengrin simply wouldn't move un-
til that sobbing Choo Choo Wagon had
left the neighborhood, so I went in-
side the roadhouse to find the owner.
I found him. He consisted of a Ger-
man chauffeur and eight bottles of
beer.
When I explained the pitiful situa-
tion to him the chauffeur swallowed
two bottles of beer and began to cry.
Then he told the waiter to call him
at 7:30, and he put his head down on
Tippy-Toed to Cover and Left Us Flat."
For Reference.
"See that man over there. He Is a
bombastic mutt, a windjammer non-
entity, a false alarm, and an encum-
berer of the earth!" "Would you
mind writing all that down for me?"
"Why In the world " "He's my
husband, and I shouli! like to use It
on him some time."—Houston Post.
overtaking a telegraph pole every once
in a while, when suddenly we heard
behind us a very insistent choof-
ehoof-choof-choof!
"It's one of those Careless Wagons,"
I whispered to Peaches, and then we
both looked at Lohengrin to see If
there was a mental struggle going
on in his forehead, but he was rush-
ing onward with his head down, watch-
ing his feet to make sure they didn't
step on each other.
Choof-choof-choof came the Torpedo
Destroyer behind us, and 1 wrapped
the reins around my wrist, in case
Lohengrin should get uneasy and want
to print horseshoes all over the auto-
mobile.
The next minute the machine passed
us, going at the rate of 14 constables
an hour, and as it did so Lohengrin
stopped still and seemed to be biting
his lips with suppressed emotion.
I coaxed him to proceed in English,
in Spanish and Italian, and then in a
pale blue language of my own, but
he just stood there and bit his lips.
I believe if he had possessed finger
nails he would have bitten them too.
1 gave the reins to friend wife with
instructions how to act if the horse
started, and I jumped out to argue
with him.
Just when I had picked out a good
the table and went to sleep with his
face in a cute little nest of hard-boiled
cigarettes.
I rushed to the telephone and called
up the liveryman, but before I could
think of a word strong enough to fit
the occasion he whispered over the
wire: "I know your voice, Mr. Henry.
I suppose Lohengrin is waiting for
you outside."
Forthwith I tried to tell that livery-
man just what I thought about him
and Lohengrin, but the telephone girl
short-circuited my remarks and they
came back and Bet fire to the wood-
work.
"My, my!" I could hear the livery-
man saying. "Lohengrin's hesitation
must be the result of the epidemic of
automobik-s which Is now raging over
our coui;> roads. The automobile
has a str. <,e effect on Lohengrin. It
seems to cover him with a pause and
gives him inflammation of the speed."
I thought of poor Peaches shivering
out there in that comedy sleigh Btarlng
at a dreaming horse, while in front of
her a Red Devil Wagon complained in-
ternally and shook Its tonneau at her,
and once more I jolted that liveryman
with a few verbal twisters.
"Don't get excited," he whispered
back over the phone. "Lohengrin Is a
new idea in horses. Whenever he
meets an automobile he goes to sleep
and tries to forget It. Isn't that better
than running away and dragging you
to a hospital? There must be some-
thing about an automobile that affects
Lohengrin's heart. I think it is the
gasoline. The odor from the gasoline
seems to penetrate his mind to the re-
gion of his memory and he forgets to
move. Lohengrin is a fine horse, with
a most lovable disposition, but when
the air becomes charged with gasoline
he forgets his duty and falls asleep at
the switch."
1 went out and explained to my wife
that Lohengrin was a victim of the
gasoline habit, and that he would
never leave that spot until the Bubble
went away, and that the Bubble
couldn't go away until the chauffeur
woke up, and that the chauffeur
couldn't wake up until Ills mind had
digested a lot of wood alcohol, so she
jumped out of the trick Bleigh for the
purpose of telling Lohengrin just what
she thought about him.
At that moment somebody opened
the folding doors In the barn just
ahead of us, and Lohengrin, with a
withering glance at friend wife and a
shrug of his shoulders in my direction,
tippy-toed to cover and left us flat.
Ostler Joe, the charge d'affaires of
the barn, tried to stop Lohengrin and
ask for his credentials, but the equine
onion brushed right by and planted
himself and the droshky in the middle
of the barn floor, where he promptly
went to sleep again.
Just as we hurried away to flag an
approaching trolley car I heard Ostler
Joe say to the slumbering Lohengrin:
The Gargoyle Gazed at Mel
"Wake up, you doggone ol' rabbit,
wake up and git out'n our barn. I know
you, dag gone you, even if you be dis-
guised by hldln' behind that thar fcur-
poster bed on runners. Wake up, you
ol' Ijlt! You bo Henlopen Lalfenwell's
accomplice In crime, been't ye? Waal,
you git right out'n our barn an' do
your sleepln' where you belong. Dag
gone if you kin use our barn to give
your imitations of Rip Van Winkle.
Come on now, git!"
When we finally reached home Aunt
Martha asked us how we enjoyed the
slelghride.
"The scenery was perfectly lovely—
It was so stationary," Peaches an-
swered, with chattering teeth.
"One of the best walks I ever had,"
I said as I put both feet in the fire-
place to warm up.
Lohengrin, eh? To make him go Mr.
Wagner would have to set him to rag-
time.
Don't Dodge.
Do not dodge. Whatever the diffi-
culties to be met, they are not made
easier by trying to dodge them. In
trying to dodge a missile from one
direction you may come in line with
one from a different direction. When
we dodge trouble we are more than
likely to get into other trouble no
less easy to endure. Look with cour-
age on what must be met. Faced
with courage difficulties are half con-
quered. Better to meet and conquer
difficulties than to dodge them. Do not
dodge duties that devolve on you.
Duties performed add strength and
dignity to character. It matters lit-
tle what these duties are; though they
may be of the simplest and humblest,
well and truly done, they acquire dig-
nity. Stand up bravely and squarely
to meet the difficulties of life. With
courage you will conquer. You will
come through life with fewer scars
than by trying to dodge duty or diffi-
culty. Trying to evade begets In a
man a cringing spirit. He gets a
habit of truckling, and upright, self-
respecting manhood is gone. Don't
dodge if you would hold yourself
above meanness.—Milwaukee Journal.
But He Understood.
The artist was painting—sunset, red,
with blue streaks and green dots.
The old rustic, at a respectful dis-
tance, was watching.
"Ah," said the artist, looking up
suddenly, "perhaps to you, too, nature
has opened her sky-pictures page by
page? Have you seen the lambent
flame of dawn leaping across the livid
east: the red-stained, sulphurous islets
floating in the lake of fire in the west;
the ragged clouds at midnight, black
as a raven's wing, blotting out the
shuddering moon?"
"No," replied the rustic, shortly;
"not since I signed the pledge."—Tit-
Bits.
Idle Metaphors.
"What is the title of that book you
are reading?"
" 'The Sea of Matrimony.' "
"Hum! Any submarines about?"
"Oh, yes, but the particular ship
whose fortunes I ara following is in
no danger. It is convoyed by a dread-
naught."
"Meaning?"
"The bride's mother."
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Burke, J. J. The Daily Transcript (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 3, No. 42, Ed. 1 Friday, July 30, 1915, newspaper, July 30, 1915; (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc113017/m1/3/: accessed May 2, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.