The Enid Daily Eagle. (Enid, Okla.), Vol. 10, No. 29, Ed. 1 Wednesday, April 19, 1911 Page: 3 of 8
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\VEI XKS1)AY, APRIL 1t>, 1011.
A
ID so they were married. Th«
rain of the lice hud scarcely
ceased up on the roof of their
carriage, and the echoes of the
K y laughter behind them had
scar<y -
iy died away, when Ralph Huntington
turned to his bride with a boyish laugh
Ai.d clasped her hand.
"At last, at last! he breathed, and
h' lit forward to place a kiss upon her
"Walt!" she commanded, turning
.ier faco away and putting up her
hand
The man drew back, shocked.
"1 must tell you something first,"
she went on, her voice lowered almost
to a whisper and her face pale. "I
feel It my duty to 1ft you know just
what you have bought."
"Bought!" he cried. "Grace!"
"Yes, bought," she answered; "pur-
chased like any other expensive peitie
of art. You knew this when I agreed
to marry you; but I have seen, as the
da>ij have gone by between our en-
gagement and today's mockery, that
you have been more and more inclined
to forget it."
"I did, almost," replied the man even-
ly. "I hoped against hope until ,1 al-
most begun to believe."
"It is your own fault," she retorted
"You knew that 1 favored Gilbert. You
know that he had not a friend to plead
his suit. You knew that ho was poor,
and could not afford me. You knew
that every one interested in seeing that
1 hud a luxurious future brought me
lying tales of him—tried to prove him
unworthy."
"Absolve mc, please," the man broke
In. "I never raised a voice uguinst
him."
"No, you were too clever," she
charged cruelly, not caring to notice
that he wincvd under the stroke. "In-
stead of t.iat, you bought mo. You
helped my father out of his crisis and
set him upon his feet again. "You—"
"Purely in the way of business,"
interrupted the man. "It was no more
than 1 might have done for any other
friend of. mine."
'Indeed!" she replied. "And was it
purely business that made you secure
my brother Will his appointment? that
made you get Lon out of his college
scrape? that made you—oh, your favors
have been too many and too lavish to
enumerate! They were part of the
price you paid fo. me, rails upon my
gratitude which I could not ignore.
Well, I married you; [ paid my debt
and my family's debt to you, but 1
have made the vhoie transaction plain.
There is no question of false pretense
between us. My conscience is clean
upon that score; but situ the bargain
is concluded, I will be 'game' as Lon
calls it. Now, I will take your kiss,"
and she held up her pallid lips.
The man laughed, but the laugh was
not a particularly jovial one. He had
to moisten his lips before he replied to
her, and there was a trace of huskineus
in his voice.
"Mrs. Huntington," he replied, "the
only kiss I ever bought before was at a
charity fair, and I id not even then
accept the goods that I had paid for.
The cheek that was held out to me was
: oeaut'ful one. but, in the circum-
'Tjy George Randolph Chester
•rved and the hideous truth better
glossed over, but he shuddered to think
stances, It repelled me. I have never
been abb- to see the joke in these
things. They- they are too sacred to
me; so you must continue to remain In
my debt."
"And so they were married and lived
happily ever after." The old, old com-
monplace ending to the fairy-tories re-
curred to him with crushing mockery.
This, then, was the end of his day-
dreams; this the end of the Impetuous
wooing into which Grace Harding's
beauty had drawn him. He knew of
other marriages like this where the
bargains were more coolly sealed,
where the conventions were better ob-
served
glossed
of them. This, after all, was better.
His wife presently complained of be-
ing chilly. He reflected grimly that the
chill which had suddenly* filled that
carriage was one that no fire could
drive out, but nevertheless he adjusted
her wrap more tenderly about her,
touching her as gently as If ahe were
4ome beautiful, fragile thing that must
not be clumsily handled or rudely
breathed upon, lest It crumble before
his very eyes. He tried to be strictly
impersonal, and he was almost angry
with himself to find that, in spite of
the cold dash she had given him, the
mero touch of her garment thrilled
him.
In the train his first impulse was to
surround her with magazines and re-
tire to the smoker, but even in his deep
disappointment he could not forget
what was due to her. With those white
ribbons, tied by pranking friends to
their luggage, flaunting their now es-
tate to the world, he could not leave
her to seem as one neglected, even
though it might be much more pieas-
ant for her to be alone; so he set be-
side her and gave himself up to the
task of entertaining her. He could
do that, lie had traveled much, had
seen much, and had read much, and
now he set himself deliberately to in-
terest her. He knew the things she
liked best -he had studied them long
enough, and, Heaven help him! earn-
estly enough and all through that
long, tiresome ride he exerted himself
with a success that surprised her. After
all, if she had sold herself, she had
gone to a pleasant market.
It was not until they had reached the
city and the hot 1 where he had se-
cured accommodations that tho full
sense of her loneliness and of the vast
change that had come Into her life
flooded over her. At the door of tho j
pretty suite he paused.
"My own apartments," he Informed I
her, "are just across the hall there,"
and he pointed to the door. "The
number is one hundred and two. Kind-
ly telephone me when you are ready
for dinner. I havo ordered a maid
sent right up to you."
Ten minutes later, when a maid
knocked at the door, she was atlll
standing looking blankly out of the
window. Sho had not removed her
hat nor her gloves.
Conventionality came to her rescue.
She took pains, for the maid's benefit,
to observe the dainty fittings of the
suite, the flowers that ho had ordered
the cheerful Open fire that had been
built against her coming. Books and
mugazines had been provided, even to
a pretty diary, which was a reproach
to her now, and stationery lay Invit-
ingly arranged upon the pretty deslfc.
The flowers and the fire and the books
and all werfe thoughtful of him—but—
they only went to show what monoy
could buy. It had even—she thought
with bitter self-scorn—bought her.
There followed a tastefully ordered
dinner. There followed gorgeous roses
for the theater-box, the play itself, a
supper where soft music and tinted
lights created a fairy world for the
country-bred girl, and then a com-
fortable carriage-ride back to the ho-
tel. These were material pleasures to
which Grace Harding had looked for-
ward. She was of a family that hail
"skimped and scraped" most painful-
ly, and she was starved for luxury,
but now that it was hers she took no
pleasure in It. She cried herself to
sleep that aight, and she dreamed of
Gilbert. When uhe remembered the
dream in the morning she was shock-
ed. She had not meant to be dis-
honest or unfaithful even in her
dreams. Oh, not that!
II
"aaesmu
There was to be a week of shopping
before their steamer sailed, und It was
a busy week—or that, in other clr-
cumstancen, would have been a happy
week to any woman. There were fresh
flowers in her room every morning;
there was a carriage always at her
disposal; there was a slave—wealthy,
devoted, and, ye>\ even hundsomo—
ready to dunce at her every caprice,
to satisfy her every whim.
As the days wore on she begnn to
pltv him. She had been so burdened
with her own grievance that she had
overlooked the l'act of his doop hurt;
and she began to udmlre the cheerful-
ness with which he took up his bur-
den. He was always tho same, he
I was always devising amusements and
Intel osting side trips to keep her busy
and to keep her from brooding; but
he never, since that first ride with her
alone in tho carriage, presumed upon
his conventional rights.
The last day before thoir sailing was
the only one in which ho left her abso-
lutely to her own device:*.
| "I shall be engaged all day," he ex-
jblainud. "There ,ir< business matters
.that I must straighten up before I go
jaway, and I havo had no time for tltem
as yet. Tou will find the carriage
ready for you, and I am quite euro that
you can make your way about now to
clean up tho little .shopping that you
havo loft."
She was surprised to find herself
lonely. of course, though, business
could not bo neglected. In fancy she
followed him to his ofllees. She had
met his business associates. Some of
them treated him with positive affec-
tion all of them with respect. One
could not see him In that environment
without recognising that he wuk a man
of great ability, and a man of rigid
uprightness, too. She was proud of
him for that—naturally.
Tho forenoon was a slow one. She
had suddenly lost interest in shopping,
and she finished it up hastily, coming
back to the hotel in time for luncheon.
She seemed more at home there. Later
In th.> afternoon a card was brought up
to bar room, anu she turned quickly
from tho light lest tho boy who had
brought It should see her face.
"Where is the gentleman?" she ask-
ed the boy, struggling for her self-
possession .
" in Parlor A. mum."
"Tell him 1 will be down presently,"
she said calmly, but when she had clos-
ed the door she dropped Into a rocking-
chair and buried her faco in her hands.
When she arose she looked about the
apartments curiously. It seemed as if
she had never seen them before, to ap-
preciate them the flowers, tho books,
tho crackling wood-Are, the many little
evidences of care anil thoughtfulness
with which she had been surrounded;
and when, after a while, she stepped
out into the hall and closed the door,
she seemed to be shutting In a world
that was in some way different from
any that she had known or dreamed
of before.
Down In the parlor an eager young
man sprang to his feet when she enter-
ed .
"Grace!" he cried, and caught her
hand.
"Gilbert! What brings you here?"
she asked, releasing her hand.
"I coudn't stay away any longer,"
ho replied. "Grace, I couldn't. I un-
derstood that you were to sail to-mo r-
row, and I had to see you. Thank
God, my good luck came In time!"
"Good luck?" ahe repeated, groping
confusedly for a solution to the sirange
now problem that she had suddenly
become to herself. "I do not quite
understand."
"No," ho said, "nor I can scarce
ly realize it yet. Grace, dear, 1 havo
been left a legacy. 1 just got word of
it last night and came right on. 1 am
rich, girl, as rich as the man you mar-
ried, and now this miserable mist.ike
can be undone!"
He held out his arms to her and took
an impetuous step forward, but she
held up her hand and stopped him, as
she had stopped lior husband once
before.
"I am so glad you came, Gilbert!'
she said with the ring of a great new
Joy in her voice. "So glad! Other-
wise, as you iavr pointed out, my mis-
erable mistake might have ffone on and
on; but it is not the mistake you have
in mind. 1 have spent a week with an
honorable man, a man who, for all his
thoughtfulness and all his devotion und
all his love-uls love, Gilbert! has
had not one caress in puyment, not
even gentle words other than those tbat
formal courtesy would bring from any
one.
"1 have seen him morning, noon, and
night, and, without knowing thut 1 was
doing it ,1 havo studied him well; and
1 know, sir, that under no circum-
stances could he have done this un-
worthy thng that you havo done to-
day; nor could he have offered to any
woman, least of all one he loved, the
insult that, you have offered me. His
only thought would bo to shield me.
"Why, wheu 1 tell him of this, as
1 must, so that no shadow may fall be-
bween us, I know just what he will do.
He will attach weight only to the fact
that I have told him, aud then he will
never again refer to It- never. So
good and kind and generous he is, and
so made of honor. 1 don't think that I
can make you understand tho sort of
man he is. I did not realize it myself
until now. And to think that I might
not huve known! For this ti wakening
I thank you; oh, Gilbert, how I do
thunk you! And good-by!"
Turning, she swept from the room,
and when she had gained her own
apartments and had closed the door
behind her, she caught up -the roses
that ho had provided for her and bur-
ied her faco in them.
Wheu she presently raised her head
there were tears upon her lashes, but
she was smiling, and as she went about
dressing for dinner she found herself
singing for the first time in many,
many days. There was a flush upon
her cheeks, too, that did not go away
III
That was a long, long afternoon, but
she had a splendid Joke—oh, a grand,
good Joke!- to keep her company; one
that made her laugh aloud tlm« after
time, but that nearly always brought
the tears springing to her eyes.
IP ^
■s-einesi
It was not a Joke, though, t© be
lightly frittered away at the first op-
portunity. Ah ,no, it was one to be
nursed and jealously guarded tor tks
very Joy of it, aad when Ralph caino to
take her to dinner she wan as gra**4y
reserved with him as usual, though es
thought her more beautiful and rMur*
vivacious in appearance than ev,l.j
u rich flush upon her face was be.
coming, too.
Throughout the dinner she preserved
her grave formality, except that once or
twice she startled him by breaking into
happy chatter, apropos of nothing; but
.vhen he strove to seize upon this boor
she grew reserved again and hid he
eyes. She carried her calm gracious*
ne.'S through the performance at the
theater, though once or twice he fan-
cied that he detected her turning to
him with twinkling eyes. Through the
supper she was composed and primly
formal, but when they had got lsto
their closed Carriage and were on tho
way home she turned to him with a
question as to his own day.
"Did you conclude your business sat-
isfactorily?" she asked him. It 'was
elaborately prepared, this exquisite
Joke, and she was currying It off
splendidly—only she was afraid that he
could hear the beating of her heart
"Quite," he assured her.
"I don't feel exactly satisfied about
that," sho replied. "1 think that some
one ought to oversee your contracts,
for really I'm afraid thut you are a very,
poor business man."
"Indeed," he answered, smiling.
"What makes you think that? I assure
you that I have a very good reputation
in that way among people who know
me."
"Well," she retorted, and now thgt
the supremo Joke was coming to its
point sho could hardly koep dowa that
foolish flutter in her voice, "that may
be, but 1 am quite certain that any man
who buys uxpensive things and does
not take them must have 11aws In his
business methods."
He turned In her direction with per-
plexity, hut in the dim light that came
through from tho street he oould not
see the wonderful look that she turned
up to him. I made no reply.
"Don't you mk It is about time to
collect that ku- sho tremblingly
asked.
"Please, Gr. he remonstrated*
with tnoro pain in his tone than she
had ever heard there. He could not
dare to believe, yot, could not allow
himself to catch at that wild hope that
had suddenly sprung up within him.
Sho had intended to tease him a lit-
tle longer, to have him perplexed, pos-
sibly half angry, but she could
stand no more.
"Do take It," she pleaded. "As a
Klft."
The hrlrtf Instant of his dazed Jojr
that followed she took for hesitation.
"Oh, don't you see? Won't you see?"
r.ho cried. "Ralph, I—I love you!"
Her arms circled up around his necl*
and she pressed her head. Bobbins
upon his shoulder as he clasped her ti
him.
Copyright, The Vrank A. Munsey Co.
W. G. Shepherd
JOHN SHANNON had never be-
fore been a Christian In the
spring-time. The temptations
he had withstood during the
winter had been many and trying; but
now, bringing additional vexation of
tho spirit, came spring, with its whis-
pers of freedom and wildncss. It
assailed John with a fury that sent
nlm to his knees In prayer in a little
dark anteroom of the mission.
When he arose and came out into the
room where the chairs were standing
In neat rows, ready for the afternoon
meeting, he blinked his eyes at the sun
light thut streamed, in through the
windows. When ho had regained his
sense of sight, he saw Sister Bandon
entering the front door.
Sister Bandon was a small, frail
wrinkled woman, with tan-hued, scrag-
gly hair. She called the men who
were converted at the mission "my
boys,' and it was her sole aim in life
to haVe them call her their "little
mother." Somehow, John, looking
back across tho wild, reckless days to
the time when he was with his own
mother, could not apply the title to
Mrs. Bandon. He was kind, though,
and he did the next best thing, he
thought, by calling hor "sister."
This afternoon it seemed to John
that he could not endure listening to
Sister Bandon's talk, kind and honest
as It was. As she came down the
aisle toward the platform where he
stood he felt like running away.
Just then tiie front dor opened
.again, and In came Sister Johnson.
Sister Johnson was a portly, red-faced
individual, who had charge of the
clothing,department of the mission. To
the distribution of clothing among the
worthy poor of the district she brought
a hlgh'.J' practical and systematic
method, which sho applied with rare
enthusiasm. Apparently she believed
that the affairs of the kingdom of
heaven had suffered, before her time,
because proper business principles had
not been applied to their administra-
tion.
The temptation to run became ir-
resistable. John started down the
aisle toward tho door, hurried past
Sister Bandon and Sister Johnson, and
escaped to the street. As he departed,
ho heard Sister Bandon say:
"John, I've calculated on having you
sing Saved by Grace' this afternoon."
But John sauntered away down the
side-walk, u victim of spring fever.
As he walked he thought. His mind
turned to the days ho had spent in
prison; to the nights in saloons; to
police-station cells; to court-rooms;
und, at last, 11 himself in his present
situation. On this particular after-
noon It was hard to believe that he
really was a Christian; that John
Shannon, the ex-convict, pick-pocket,
second-story man, burglar, forger, and
confidence worker, was really this man
walking along the street Only the
other day one of the young women who
sometimes came from one of the
churches to pluy the piano at the mis-
sion said to him:
Mr. Shunnon, you're losing all those
hard lines that were In your face when
I first met you."
And John had replied:
"Thank God!"
There was a scar—a memento of a
fight—on John's right cheek. His far.
was full; Its base was a square chin,
bisected by a vertical Indentation.
From his nostrils to the outer edges of
his mouth extended lines ot the sort
which hard thought makes, and which
only smiles and cheerfulness can drive
away. His clothes were neat and
clean, for John had always been fasti-
dious, if not fashionable, in his dress.
John swung along the Bowery street
with an easy grace. He didn't know
the Bowery well. He had just begun
to get acquainted with it, one night in
the previous autumn, when he heard
a man singing a song in front of the
mission. But in many other cities he-
knew folk just like the Bowery people.
He was familiar with the types, and
knew them by heart; *so he was at
home on the Bowery.
Shortly he approached the busier
portion of the city. All about him
were noise and hurry, but in his mind
there was even greater tumult. He
turned into a cigar-store, half Intend-
ing to buy a package of cigarettes, but
just as ho reached the counter a little
prayer flashed through his mind, and
he said to the clerk:
"Give me a package of cough-drops."
He had bought many packages of
cough-drops in the earlier days, after
his first mission experience, in this
same way. Their use was getting to
be almost a habit with him. They
cleared his throat Just before he sang
his evening solos at the Bowery corner
meetings.
On the sidewalk again, he felt a
strange loneliness. Somehow, after
all, it was true that a man couldn't be
of this world and, at the same time,
sacrifice everything to make himself
good. This afternoon John longed to
have i part in the world; be wanted
a place in the restlessness about him.
Tho evening dusk was setting down
on the streets when John, his mind by
this time sorely disturbed, saw a neat-
ly dressed woman step from the door
of a jewelry-store, carrying a small
hand-satchel.% Sho looked about her
nervously, and then started up the
third, stepped out from doorways be-
fore him and walked at about his own
pace, and in the same direction, for the
distance of a block. Then one of the
men quickened his gait and passed the
woman with the grip; one crossed to
the other side of the street; and the
third continued to walk ahead of John.
In this fashion the four persons under
John's scrutiny walked to tho next
corner, where the woman waited for a
coming street car.
John's trained eyes were alert. He
saw tho man on the other side of the
street run across to await tho same
cur. The man who hud been walking
ahead of the woman stepped out to the
curb, loked up the street, and then, as
if suddenly discovering that the car he
wanted was coming, stepped out to the,
t:A -
Jgji
fyv
s
'Or* i fll I
That Grip Away!
"Hurry Up! Put
street. In the old days an incident
like this would not have escaped John's
I notice; probably for the same reason,
jhe noticed It now.
| It was more in a spirit of curiosity
I and speculation than In any other
mood that John followed the little wo-
man with the grip. Even in his most
(reckless days he had never been a
purse-snatcher; but ho found a cer-
tain fascination in the grip and its pos-
sible contents. The whole adventure
suited his mood. The mission, Sister
Bandon, Sister Johnson, and all the
rest of his new life, seomed to fall far
behind him.
It was in this speculative frame of
mind that John was moving along
when suddenly two men, and then a
tracks to wait for It. The third man,
who had walked In front of John,
hurried rapidly up the street. For a
moment John was puzzled by this ac-
tion.
"He's going to get on at tho next
corner," said John to himself.
He looked about him for a policeman
There was none In sight. And more-
over, the three rqen had as yet done no
wrong.
When the car came John boarded It.
Therfc was nothing to indicate
that any one of the five persons who
entered it had ever seen any of tho
others. Tho woman gave a sigh a re-
lief, and placing the grip beside her,
settled comfortably into her seat. John
posted himself behind her.
| As the car whirled through the bus-
iness district, gathering and distribut-
ing its jostling burden of humanity,
John kept his eyes on the woman and
her satchel. Ho wished that he could
'.•I th< weight of his heavy old revol-
ver In his hip-pocket; but that was no
longer there. It had gone the way of
the drinks and the smokes.
When the car had gone some dis-
tance up-town and had reached the
residence district, the woman gave
signs of stirring. John took this to
mean that she was going to alight at
the next crossing, and he gave a signal
to the conductor. The woman repeat-
ed his signal, and one of the men who
sat ahead of her, watching her reflec-
tion in the window before him, turned
about and ostentatiously did tho same
thing. The five alighted, John behind
the rest. The woman stepped hur-
riedly to the curbstone and started
down a durk side street, which was
lighted largely by gleams from the
windows of the brown-stone houses.
John saw the three men string along in
Indian file. The two men ahead were
keeping close together.
By this tlmo John's Interest In the
affair was more than mere curiosity.
He realized that he was going to have
a hand in whatever was to be done.
Tho men carried slung-shots or revol-
vers, he knew, for he saw that their
right hands were doubled Into fists in
their pockets.
Soon he saw the man In the rear
cross to the other side of the street;
he could see that this was the one who
had taken the car a bloek farther up-
town than the other two. -John could
not explain the man's action, but
there was little time for wonder now.
Evidently, according to the program
of the thugs, the woman was to be
"slugged." In tho light from the res-
idence windows they did not intend to
give her a chance to make an outcry.
John knew what it would mean. One
man would walk up behind the woman,
and by making some remark, perhaps,
cause her to turn her head. She would
bo met with a blow across the fore-
head—a heavy, cruel blow that would
Instantly knock her senseless, and pos-
sibly even kill her.
John walked quietly up behind the
woman. He leaned forward toward her
and his left hand started for the grip.
Then it drew back, seemed to hesitate
a moment, darted forth, seized the grip
by the handle--and John was dash'ng
off at full speed, his long coat standing
out behind him and tho grip swinging
In his left hand.
He heard the woman's shriek and the
pounding of feet on the sidewalk. There
was a shot, too, but he heard no whiz
of a bullet, as he had expected, i'his
made him turn his head to see what
was happening. He caught a moving-
picture glimpse of tho woman with hor
hands 111 the air, and of two men run-
ning after him. Across the street he
saw tho flash of a revolver as 'mother
shot sounded; but the weapon had not
been turned toward him. It bad ap-
parently been pofoted at the two men
who were following him.
Ho run on, upd then turned again.
One of the men had fallen; the other
was standing, and a man was crossing
the street, leveling a revolver at the
erect figure.
A block farther on. If you hud met
John you would have seen a very calm
and unconcerned man walking at a
moderate rute, with both hands swing-
ing empty at his sides. He had re-
sorted to his old trick of hanging his
booty from his watch-chain and but-
toning his loose overcoat over It. At
the next crossing he boarded a cross-
town car, and was soon back in the
business district. As ho alighted from
the car he hummed a tune- "Saved by
Grace."
Not long after this a certain jeweler,
watching his clocks and awaiting the
hour to lock his doors and depart, was
surprised to see a man enter the store
and set on a show-case tho very
satchel in which, about an hour be-
fore, he himself had placed W". de
Peyton's jewels, and which she herself
had carried from the store.
"Do you recognize this?" asked John.
"Yes, sir, I do," replied the Jeweler,
wondering.
"Will you please open It and see
whether anything is missing?" asked
John.
"Has Mrs. de Peyton been hurt?"
asked the jeweler. "How did you get
it?"
"Never mind. Examine it," ordered
John.
The jeweler complied, and one by
one removed a necklace of pearls, sev-
eral rings, and two watches with long
gold chains.
"is everything there all right?" asked
John
"Yes. sir," replied the Jeweler. "But
where Is Mrs. de Peyton? How did you
get it? Who—"
"Please put the whole thing in your
safe and notify the lady that you have
it," said John, interrupting, as he turn-
ed toward the door.
But the floor opehetf before Shannon
could reach It, and In walked one of th<
liio ot men wtfo had helped to furnish
th.- evening's excitement. It was the
man who had taken the car a block
farther up-town than tho rest, the man
who had gone across the dark street,
the man who had tired the revolver at
the other two.
With all his experience, the mystery
Was too great for John, and he won-
der! ngly looked toward the stranger.
Was the man going to make a desper-
ate attempt to take tiie grip and its
Jewels from the store?
J< hn turned toward the Jeweler and
saw tbat he was working at the combi-
nation of his safe.
"Hurry up!" shouted John. "Put
that grip away!"
He prepared to Jump on the strang-
er, but suddenly he saw that the man
had his hand extended, apparently in
cordial groeti.ig.
"You're about the. gamest gay I ever
saw," said tho stranger. "I .want to
shake hands with you."
John passively allowed his hand to be
shaken.
"Here's my card," the friendly
stranger went on. j
John read: "Hicks Hithering—
Hudson's Detective Agency."
"I got both those fellows," .continued
the detective. "I turned them botU
over to a policeman. Got one in the
leg. They're bad men. One of them
had his gun out, too. If you hadut got
the grip with the jewels, I dou't be-
lieve I could have saved it."
"That's the way I figured It, too,*
said John simply.
"I followed them all the afternoon,"
continued the detective. "Wanted to
wait till I caught them with the goods
on. No use arresting a bad man just
for vagrancy."
"No," said John. Then he remanv-
bered that ho ought to introduce him*
self. As the- started for the door,
leaving the .eler looking on in
amazement, he .'d: "I'm John Shan-*
non, from the I =>ry Mission."
"I know," sa the detective. "If f
hadn't known y. u, I'd have fired at you
instead of at the other two fellow*
I've heard you sing at the meetings oa
the streets What's that song they ail
like so well?"
"Oh, that must be 'Saved by Grace,' *•
suggested John.
"That's it." answered the detectives
"I'd rather hear you sing that than g<*
to the theater!"
That night John's face glowed with'
happiness and peace and hope as ha
jrave out his message to humanity, un-
der the gleam of the Bowery arcst.
Then I shall see Him, face to face,
And tell the story—saved by grace*
Then I sail see Him, face to fa-ace.
And tell the story—saved by grace!
Copyright The Frank A. Jtfuasey Co*
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Wright, M. H. The Enid Daily Eagle. (Enid, Okla.), Vol. 10, No. 29, Ed. 1 Wednesday, April 19, 1911, newspaper, April 19, 1911; Enid, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metapth350288/m1/3/: accessed March 28, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.