The man she hated

In the morning, when Fair made her appearance at breakfast in one of her friend’s dresses, Mr. Osborne thought she was more beautiful than ever; but he did not give utterance to the thought, for he feared that she might be thinking already of the vengeance Belva Platt had taken on her because of his admiration. He greeted her kindly and cordially, as if she had been an old friend, and placed her at once at her ease.

“I hope you will make this your home as long as you feel safe, for Sadie will be only too happy to have you here,” he assured her, and his cordial kindness made Fair feel quite remorseful over the treatment he had received from herself and mother.

“I hope he has quite forgotten it all by now. At least, I know he does not regret it, for my dear friend Sadie makes him the best wife in the world,” she decided, as she observed the fond glances that passed between the wedded pair.

“Oh, how sweet is love, whether in the highest or the lowest walks of life,” she mused sadly, with a weary sigh to the memory of the brief, bright past, in which Bayard Lorraine had made her so happy with his love.

Her eyes grew dim as she remembered all that Sadie had told her last night about her visit to Mrs. Howard that afternoon.

“She is grieved for her hardness to you in Italy, and anxious to atone for it,” Sadie said, and Fair had wept with joy at hearing that her friends had relented.

“As for Mr. Lorraine, he loves you more than ever since he read your journal and heard from me the true story of your trouble,” her friend continued. “He is wild to find you, and declares that it will be easy to secure a divorce for you.”

“As if I would permit him to be mixed up with that miserable affair in any way! No, no! I will go away and hide myself. I will not bring any more trouble upon my friends,” declared the unhappy girl, and it was in vain that Sadie pleaded with her to change her decision.

Fair was thinking over all this now as she trifled with her breakfast, pretending to eat, but in reality scarcely touching a morsel, and she paid but little attention to the subject the husband and wife were discussing—the bad condition of the condemned factory.

But presently Sadie put on her bonnet, and Waverley took his hat and his wife’s market basket.

“Now, dear Fair,” said her friend, “if you don’t mind staying alone with baby a little while, I will go along to market as Waverley goes to work.”

Fair assured the bright little housewife that baby would be very good company, and she locked the door after the two had gone out, feeling very thankful for this temporary haven from the storm that had threatened to break upon her head only yesterday.

“I foiled the wretch. I got away just in time, and no doubt he thinks me still at my lodgings, unless, indeed, he attempted an interview with me last night,” she told herself, and she was inclined from past experience to believe the latter.

But Prince Gonzaga was more wary now than in those past days, when he had listened to the counsels of Belva Platt. He had not forgotten the night when he had taken Fair by storm, as it were, and then been chased out of the house by the tenement people. He had no mind to repeat that dismal experience.

It was quite true that the clever detective had identified Mrs. Karrick with Fair, the prince’s missing wife, but no attempt had been made to molest her that night. It was decided that he should go boldly to the factory next morning and claim his wife.

“If you will go with me to the factory first, I will go to market with you as soon as I get excused,” Waverley Osborne said to his wife, when they reached the street.

She agreed to do so, and at that moment Mrs. Jones, the forewoman, came hurrying past the corner, but stopped abruptly at sight of Sadie.

“Oh, my dear, how glad I am to see you! I believe I’m late already, but I must stop and have a little chat with you,” she exclaimed affably.

“Then I’ll go on and be back in ten minutes, dear,” said Waverley Osborne, smiling at his wife and hurrying away, followed by her anxious glance.

It was a beautiful day in December, clear and cold; but Sadie was warmly wrapped from the weather. In spite of that, she shivered and sighed as she watched Waverley’s tall, erect form hurrying down the square. A horror had been upon her ever since last night, when Waverley had told her of the unsafe condition of the factory.

“Oh, Mrs. Jones, how can you bear to enter that condemned building again? Indeed, it is not safe. I think everybody ought to quit work until they move,” she exclaimed nervously.

A tall form, clad in costly silk and fur, brushed past, going down to the factory. At sight of the two women she stopped, and the cold sunlight flashed on her blondined hair and lighted up her pale-blue eyes that shone with a malevolent light as they rested on Sadie, whom she hated with a jealous fury.

She did not speak, but, tossing her head with a scornful gesture, exclaimed:

“Come, Mrs. Jones, you’ll be late!”

“Oh, Belva, I’ve half a mind not to go. Sadie has made me nervous, talking about the building falling in,” exclaimed Mrs. Jones timorously, and Belva’s face took on such a look of malignant hate and fury that it frightened the two women, as she retorted, with an evil laugh:

“Fall in, is it? Well, if some that I know should be under the roof, I’d be glad for it to fall, even if it buried me with it!”

She hurried on, and Sadie said, with a shiver:

“She means me; she has hated me ever since Waverley married me.”

“Oh, look—the prince!” exclaimed Mrs. Jones excitedly.

An automobile swung around the corner, and from the window looked the handsome face of Prince Gonzaga. Sadie thought instantly:

“He is going down to the factory after Fair. Thank Heaven, she is safe at my house.”

A hand touched her arm, and she looked up and met the gaze of Bayard Lorraine. He was eager, excited.

“Mrs. Osborne, I have wonderful news!” he exclaimed: “Fair has been working at the factory, disguised as a Mrs. Karrick. Will you come with me to persuade her to come home to Mrs. Howard?”

“How did you get your information?” she inquired, pretending an excitement equal to his own.

“I paid a thousand dollars for it to a private detective, who claims to have found it out last night. He was in Gonzaga’s employ, but played traitor to him and came first to me with his information,” replied Bayard Lorraine; and Sadie answered:

“He has played traitor to you both, for the prince passed this corner a moment ago in a motor car, on his way to the factory.”

“And I am dallying here!” exclaimed the young author, in a voice of horror.

He rushed wildly toward the factory, and Mrs. Jones exclaimed excitedly:

“Let us follow him! There will be a scene that I would not miss for the world.”

They started on a run, but in a minute their footsteps were arrested by an awful, rumbling sound. The ground shook horribly beneath their feet; there was a deafening roar, an awful crash, clouds of black dust rose into the air, and an awful conviction was forced upon their hearts: The factory had fallen in.

“My husband! Oh, my husband!” shrieked the stricken wife, and her limbs gave way beneath her. She fell to the pavement like a stone.

“Help, help!” cried Mrs. Jones wildly, and some one came to her assistance—reluctantly, though, for every one wished to rush to the scene of the terrible accident. Sadie was carried into a store, and Mrs. Jones hurriedly explained that the lady’s husband was a clerk in the factory that had just caved in.

“If some one will care for her, I will go and see if he has escaped,” she said, and rushed away to the scene that was too terrible for pen to portray, or tongue to describe.

For the factory had collapsed, and from under the ruins could be heard smothered shrieks of horror and groans of pain from the wounded and dying. In the thick black dust that rose into the air and fell in masses upon the pavement, two men met and recognized each other.

“My Heaven, is it you?” Prince Gonzaga yelled, clutching Bayard Lorraine’s shoulder. “She is in there—do you hear? My wife! Under the wreck and ruin. Come, let us save her life, and she shall belong to the man that finds her in that death trap.”

Bayard Lorraine looked into that frenzied face, and realized that Sadie Osborne had spoken the truth. The detective had been a traitor to each and made the most of his discovery. In that moment of horror, his hand went out and met Gonzaga’s in a crushing grasp.

“I am with you to the death to save her life,” he shouted hoarsely; and then they plunged recklessly into the ruins together.