H. Belgravo Mystery. bit a. crtms yorkk. ' ' CHAPTER VII—Continued. ••What moro do you want?" the Irrepressible Kolhorgill (who, for eoroe unknown reason, liud a bitter (frudgo against Dunham) was heard to say at one of the clubs. "I don't want to say anything against the fel low; but hang it all. the, thing seems clear enough. Man suddenly turns up who has bcon'supposed to bo dead, and who turns out to be Lady Den ham's lirst husband. Has stormy In terview with Douham, who is heard to threaten to kill him if ho makes a certain statement again, f-tuturnout turns out to bo that tho follow wants his wife—arid very natural, too. Next thing Is that later on the same night, he is found stabbed in tho fernery leading out of Denham's library. Don ham himself look’s queer both on that pight and at the inquest, and is al together ns unliko an innocent man as ho can well bo. In my opinion ho hasn't a leg to stand on." As a matter of faot things did look black against Denham. The pre sumptive evidence against him. coupled with his own statements at thq inquest, were compromising enough. Tho butler's ovidonew too (weit-mannlng though that function ary win), corroborated by that of Felise Dovoruo, was damnatory in no small degree; and lastly. ;and chief ly), certain private information given to tho authorities on tho day follow • r':I-' uy iruiUIU.[U s maid, tho above-mentioned Fcli.se Devorne. Hor statement was to the elTeot that on tho night of the murder, half an hour or so bofore the body was discovered, she had gone into tho library to fetch u wrap her mistress bad l®ft there. As she was about to leave the room she hoard voices in .'•* nngry dispute In tho fernery, ono of which she recognised as Sir Keith Dcnhum'a and the other us that of "i ‘' Ibe deceased. She distinctly heard jAfj !>^r ^Qith say, offer you ten— > twenty thousand pounds for your : « silence. YVtIl you take it?'’ Deceased >!., answered, “No - nor a hundred thou sand. I want my wife." Sir Keith then said, with a terrible oath, "You rf, ' shall never havo hor. I will kill you first!" Then there was a struggle and the sound of a smothered ory, 1'?: followed by a deep groan. She. ’ (Feitse) . tried * to scream but could not, and trembling with horror. ' bid herself behind a window curtain, 'r A fow minutes later she saw Sir Keith come out of the fernery, closing the door after him. Ho was panting For broath, his hair was disordered, his clothes were pullod about and «he particularly noticed that he held v in his right hand a handkerchief lit ; orally soaked with blood, uu) that t: there was a large stain of blood on his rlgnt hand cuff. This she saw distinctly, as ho passed quite close to ber. He wont hurriedly out of tho room and ran upstairs. She followed - him at a distance, and saw him enter bis dressing-room. She saw him ' some little time afterward dressed as usual, speaking tosomo of the guests. ; All this sho absolutely swore to; and bor statement did not vary in tho slightest decree, even under the most li cross-examination. When asked why sho did not give this evidence at the iuquost, she said sho bad not if wished to get Sir Keith into trouble V but since then she hod been distressed i in ber mind, lest some innocent person , *night bo accused- ,yhe repeated her V statement at the adjourned inquest i (which took place three days later) with the result that the jury returned s ? a unanimous verdict of wilful murder , ' against Kir Koith Denham. ’ !• W rooming Biter ni9 arrest Denham had been brought up for ex amination. had tendered a plea of not, guilty, and after sumo formal evi dence had boon remanded fora week. "When two days of that weok had yet *0 run, he was visited by Harcourt Konnartl who was keenly interested in the case; both personally and pro ieeslonally, and was determined to «mploy all his skill and experience {and they were hot inconsiderable) in the endeavor to clear his friend from the terriblo charge brought against him. Hitherto, however, his offorts had been dlsheartingly futila , Denham was lying on his bod. one arm dung across his face, when Ken naf-d entered; but as the door opened and shut, ho rose to his feet. He looked worn and haggard, and as tf «leep had long been a stranger to him. ’which imleod it had. A kind of dull ■despair had taken possession of him. During these tong weary days and nights of solitude it had seemed to bim that all chance of proving h s in nocence had beon taken from him. and ah though escape from the net of evi dence surrounding him was impossible. The two men shook hands in silence. After a somewhat long pause Ken Hard said with an attempt at cheer fulness: ••Now. old fellow, you mustn’t let .yourself get into the blues, you know. Wo shall soon have you out of this, if I know myself.*' ••You still do not believe mo guilty, then?" said Denham, with a faint •mile. ••Of course I don’t." returned Ken nard. somewhat sharply. — ••Thanks old cliap" said Sir Keith, aqd his voice shook slightly.' . "Upon my soul, during tho last few days in this dcselato hole. 1 have half come to the conclusion that I haven't a friend in the world. 'Sometimes when I realize that I-s-Keith Denham—urn here on the charge of murder—by heaven! I think I must be mad. nud the whole thing a hallucination of my brain. 15ut tell me. ’’ bo went on, with-a fc\jer»sh impatience in his voice, • how is my wife?—where is she!” ••She has been ill you know. ” said Kennar.l. slowly; 'and she is still •eery far from well. She is staying ■with us just now., We * thought it would bo b-;'i.er for her, poor child.” * ■ . - ■;7w ’ ’ "■• '*. 777h\ ' ■■.'7 . .Vi 1 . , ■ % ••And—the buy?" continued Mn other. unsteadily. •■:Julio well. Hn le with us al»a” ''Denham crave him a quick look of gratitude. Thon. ivllh a muttered exclamation, he began to walk rupidly up and down. "Oh. my Cod. It Is hardl" he burst out suddenly. • 'Bitterly, cruelly hard1’’ There was a fierce ring of despair In the poor fellow's voice as he spoko; and loaning heavily against the wall, he burled his race in his hands. It was not of himself ho was thinking now. Kennard knew instinctively, nor of his wife—but of their son. After n few minutes Denham looked up and pushing his hair impatiently otf his forehead, ho said abruptly, as though trying to change the current of his thoughts: • • Have they found the knife—or whatevor the follow was stabbed with?” • No. Hud it not boon for that I should incline to the belief that Ver : choylo committed suicide, for Lady Denham tells me that he wns most erratic arid pcouliar for about a year before his supposod death, and that the doctors told her ho might become insane any day.”, , ••Yes. 1 know,” was Donbum's gloomy answer. "Tho poor child was terrified to dentil of him; and as I’ve told you ho acknowledged to hav ing been in a lunatic asylum for nearly eight years.” ••Yes, that s all been inquired into and found to ho true ” said Kennard. pulling his mustache thoughtfully. "I wish to heaven tlioy hud kept h m there. For my part. I think he was insane when you saw him, but of course that cun t very well be proved. Howevor. he couldn't stab himself unless he hml some weapon; and be couldu't tnako away with tho weapon altogether. And the whole place has been thoroughly searched, Tho most extraordinary thing to mo. Keith is tho evidence of your wife's ma d. That was what turned tho scale in favor of your guilt. It was uttorly damning.” •1 swear to you.” burst out Den ham. excitedly, “that that woman's story- is tho most lnfernul tissuo of lies. I never saw Verschoylo from the time he left my study until I saw him lying doad in tho fernery, and I never was in the fernery the whole night until then.” • 'How about tho stains of blood on tho cuff o' your shirk and on your handkerchiof. both of which one of thu housemaids testified at the ad: journod inquest to linding in a corner of your drosdug-room?” “Oh, that” said Denham con temptuously. “They might have found huK-a-doen blood-stained handkerchief. I daro say. My nose bled awfully several times that night. It always does, you know, if I've been in a passion. It came on suddenly just aftordlnuer, and 1 recollect seeing that my shirt-cuff had a stain of blood on it. That was why I changed it. ” “Well, it Is a most unfortunato co incidence " said Kennard. with a frown, -and equally unfortunate that the things should have been sent to be washed before Feliso thought fit to give hoc extraordinary infor mation. Tho worst of it is, every thing sooms to corroborate the wom an’s slory. You see your butler also swears to your threatening Verschoyla and there is no denying that you had presumably very strong reasons for wishing him out of the way before his claim upon J.ady Denham became known. Even the fact of your hurried re-marriage, which, of course, pre vents -” Denham sprang to his feet with aj passionate oath. ••What do you mean?" ho said, hoarsely. •-Do you. loo-” ••Now don't excite yoursel*. my dear follow,” interrupted Keunard. very quietly. -I um speaking simply as u lawyer. I have already given you my word that lam thoroughly convinced of your innocence. So sit j down, aud let us talk the matter over calmly. It's certaiuly the most mys terious aliuir 1 ever had anything to do with. Clearly the man was mur dered—but by whom? Another un fortunate point against you ia that no one, so far as 1 can gather, either knew v erschoyle or had any cause of resentment axuinst him except your self and Lady Denham—and Bhe of course, 1s out of the question." • Thnt will do. henuardl" broke in I Denham, with flashing eyes. ••! j should say Lady Denham is out of the ! question. What aro you trying to in [ sluu ite? By Heaven! if I'm not al j ready mad. I soon shall be! Leave I me alone!" he wont on wildly. ■•! ! know us well as you do that circum I stances are all against me. If it were ; not for my wire-" He slopped I suddenly, and threw himself on his bed, burying his face in his arms. Then he said, without changing his position, and speaking in a dull, me okanicalsortof way: ■-Does she—does my wife believe me guilty, tlien?" • ‘She does not.” answered the other. "She is most vehement in; her pro testations of *your innocence. ” ••Thunk God for that!" murmured Denham. ••Now look here, old man.” said Keunard. seating himself on'the oed and taking out his note-book.' "I want you. to give mo as nearly as you can, the whole of your conversation with Verschoyle on that night. Take your time, but tell me everything." i But at the end of half an hour Keit | rard found himself about us wise as ; ho was before J As ho walked homoward his j thoughts were both troubled and perplexed. In his own mind he had I no doubt of Denham's innocence. But that appearances were terribly against him he could not but confess. Men j have been hanged before now on less j evidence, * , I CHAPTER VIII. ! *! ’•-.-News. On the following day Denham ljad a brief interview with his wife. It was their first meeting since bis arrest for Olive bad been very iiL Even t'.'l i' V * now the was hardly in a state to un dergo any further ugitation. .Denham felt Inexpressibly, shocked at the torrlblo alteration in her beau tiful little face; she seemed to have grown years older. He himself was looking thin and ill, as though from months of suffering. For a moment thoy stood silent; motionless, looking into each other's eyea Then, with a sobbing, bitter cry, Olive threw herself into his arms, nnd thoy closed round her almost fiercely. His whole Doing trobbed with the passionato conscious ness that she believed in his innocence. Neither spoke. Some scenes are too sacred for de scription, however reverent however sympathetic. This was one. » * * * • # » When I.ady Denham returned from this sad interview with her unfortu nate htiSband, she sent for l'olise, and in a few bitter, stinging words dis missed her from her service. To all the faithful creature's entreaties (tnd prayers she turned n deaf ear. She was rolontlcss. ino>:orablo. •■I never knew until to-day,” she said, with slow, laboring breath, “the lying accusations you have made against ray husband. No—do not try to excuse your lies,” she wont on. turning on her terrified listener a look almost startling in its passionato hntrod. “I will not listen. Go! let me nover see your fuce again.” And other words* many and bitter, ‘ she heaped upon the head of the broken-hearted nnd half-incredulous Felise—words which cost ifer dear, for they transformed a faithful, ador ing slave; into an implacable enemy. That evening', between eight and nine o'clock. Harcourt Kennard was in his study. Ho was feeling babied and irritable, and intensely anxious for Denham's safety besides; for the chain of ovidence against the uccused naan appeared, if anything, more in controvertible than over. Suddenly the door bell rang loudly, and a few minutes Inter a slimiy-built, quiet-looking man. with keen black eyes and iron-gray hair, was ushered in. Thie was Simon Scott at that time one of the cleverest detectives in Scotland Yard. He hod been em ployed by Coringham. who was pas sionately indignant at the terrible charge against his cous n. but hithor to ail h is (Scott's) ofTorts had been vain. [TO BE CONTINUED.] AN 8. O. G Graduated First From School, Then From Girlhood to Matrimony. Mrs. Electa Jones, a fashionable so ciety woman, without any young peo ple, sent down to Maine for a seven teen-year-old niece to visit her, say A the Kural Collaborator, promising her sister that she would most carefully chaperone the young girl. When the pretty little Down-Easter arrived she brought with her a long letter from her country mother, charging her aunt not to lot her sit up lute go out alone or in the company of young men. or to be brought out in society, as she was too young. Tho appended correspondence, al though it give's only one side tells tho rest of tho story. ' Mrs. Electa Jones to Mrs. Katherine Smythe: * Oka it Cousin Kate: Marcia arrived safely and her uncle and I mot hor at the depot. She is a beautiful.girl; as you say, a mere child, sweet and innocent.. I shall keep hor so. I quite agreo with you about bringing her out this season. Cousin Electa Jones. A week later. Dear Cousin: Send Marcia's graduating dress by express, us she wants to weir it to the opera. We have a box, and there will only bs ourselves und Lieutenant Black, who comes from your place and says he had permission to oall on Marcia. The dear child is amused with every thing and so happy. Cousin Eleota. Three days later still: Cousin Kate: Lieutenant Black has given Marcia an engagement ring. It is a diamond, but. I told him you would not think of such a thing: Come up at once and take Marcia home. Hastily. Electa. This closed the correspondence. Be fore Mrs. tSmythe could leave for the city she recived a telegram: .We are married and on our way to Eu rope. Will cable you whan we arrive. All is forgiven. Bless you! Your children. * Marcia and Harold. Whr Dentists Use Mold Filling. Feople seem, said a practical dentist rocently, to wonder why it is that dentists use gold for slopping teeth, and are inclined to believe that it is because they wish to run up the bills. As is well known, silver would resist the acids found in the mouth cuite as well and I have been asked at least twenty times why I did not use silvor. If thoso who are so anxious to cast aspersions on the dentists would only study metallurgy 'they would ; find that the reason we etn j ploy only gold is that it is the only metal that will weld whilo cold. I Silver will not do so; nor will any thing else The cohesive properties of perfectly smooth and clear gold are astonishing. If you take a sheet of gold foil and let it fall upon unolher. both will be so firmly joined that it will be impossible to separate them. It is this property that makes gold valuable to dentists and not tlie desire to increase bills.—Saturday Evening Tost. An ISng'fsh Invention. An English firm has invented an in genious device for turning on the cur : rents tor electric lamps at a certain t hour. An ordinary clock is so ad | justed that at the desired moment a ! spring is released, permitting a pair i of pivoted contacts to fall into mer ' cury cups, thus completing the cir* ; cuiU i A Full Explanation, j ••H'ml" said the doctor, vthesymp | toms are unmistakable. You have i append citis." • Dear me, . what is appendicitis, doctor?’’ Appendicitis sir. is the disease from whioh you ere Buffering. FARM AND HOUSEHOLD. FRUIT IS A3 EASY TO RAISE AS ANY GARDEN CROP. Every Farmer Nee le to Plant Frnlt— How Tobacco Ie Cared—A Teet With Laying Hene and the Result—Stock Notes—Household Helps. Frnlt for the Family. Apparently one great reason why farmers neglect to provide many of the most desirable articles for home consumption is that some writers who attempt to give directions for cultivation make such a long story and give such minute descriptions of their particular methods, as if every item was absolutely necessary in all cases, that farmers are led to think there is too much to it for them to ever learn or practice, says the Mir ror and Farmer. Take strawberries, for instanco. The printed directions have given those who have neVer tried it to understand that the busi ness was as delicate as trimming hats, and required as much skill as surgery and as much care as growing tropical fruits. XX WIO piQill BtatUlIlUUt Ilitu uuuu made at first that strawberries could be grown on any soil that would pro duce corn or potatoes, and that ex tra care and preparation would' pay just as well on one as the other, there would have been more of the fruit grown, and cultivators would have learned for • themselves by de grees what looked so formidable when spread before them all at once. People should stop and think that good soil, well manured and pre pared, is what is needed for any crop, and that little extras may be added at pleasure, and favorable lo cations and qualities of soil taken advantage of as occasion offers. Every farmer knows how to prepare a patch of ground for carrots or parsnips, and seems to think it nec essary to use a little more care than he would for corn or potatoes, and thinks there is no mystery about it; the same preparation is enough for strawberries or anything else, and the extra care in preparing the soil and expense in fer tilizing it would pay as well on the field crops as in the garden, and the area can and should be re duced in proportion. Strawberries were only taken for an example, but the same conditions exist in regard to other small fruits and even tree fruits. Many men who have fine shade trees and productive apple orchards have been led to think they could not raise cherries or plums by seeing all the ills and drawbacks which they might meet in the life of a tree arrayed together in one article, which was of great value to the cul tivator who had made a start. By studying the natural requirements of trees or of those most nearly like them, much may be learned, and it is not always safe to assume that a chango is an improvement. Shading the roots is very import ant for some trees and shrubs, but this is often forgotten when shrubs which grow well in forests or hedge rows or among the ferns in the pas ■ ture are transplanted to the rich soil of the garden and expected to do much better. These little things which are not thought of often cause a serious failure, which is charged to luck or left a mystery. Farmers have learned pretty thor oughly that the kitchen garden sup plies the most healthful and enjoya ble part of the subsistence of. the family, and by the addition of such fruits as might be grown with but little extra effort, . the pleasures of the season would be largely in creased and the health of the family protected. An experienced cultiva tor says the expense of setting ou t and caring for a quarter of an-acre of strawberries is not far from $10 | a year, not counting the plants, and these cap he found in abundance after the bed is once started. A plot of a sixteenth of an acre would supply a lftrge family during the season of ripening, and enough more to put up for winter or supply a few poor neighbors. Get a spot ready and set the plants next spring, and take care of thorn. Curing Tobacco. Tobacco as it ripens, changes col or, assuming a piebald or spotted ap pearance, and the leaves feel sticky, and when bent break off short. These appearances indicate that it is ready to cut. The dry house should be in order, and sticks provided. The plants are cut close to the ground and allowed to wilt, so as to toughen them, when they are taken to the dry house. All the handling must be done with the utmost care, se as not to bruise or break the leaves. Some growers practice split ting the stem down to within six inches of the ground before cutting, claiming that the tobacco cures better. When thus split the plants are hung astride the sticks; when not split the plants are sometimes nailed to the sticks and sometimes hung with strings A tobacco barn, to hold two and a half acres, should bo twenty-four feet Bquare, and with posts high enough to give five tiers, the lowest six feet from the ground. Some practice fire-curing, which is done by build ing fires in holes dug in the ground under the tobacco, and allowing the heat and smoke to pass up through it; and this is necessary when the buildings are crowded, especially in damp weather. Others prefer to build larger barus, and give the plants more room, thus avoiding the expense and risk of fire, as there is always danger of burning the build ing. When the tobacco is thoroughly cured, so that tho stem of the leaf shows no sap, it is ready to strip. This must be done in damp weather. The leaves are stripped from the ■ stem and assorted into their grades. Ten fo fifteen leaves are put in a bunch and tied together at the butts, and this makes what is called a “hand of tobacco.”—Farmers Voice. _ A Task With Laying Hans. A large majority of those who keep poultry are of the opinion that in order to have the hens under the best condition for laying, a male must be in the yard with them. If eggs are desired with the object of hatching chicks it is necessary to have a male with the hens, but as hens will lay as many eggs when no males are present as when with them, the feeding of a lot of useless males may be discarded. Recent ex periments by Mr. W. P. Wheeler, at the New York experiment station, Geneva, in which he selected four yards of pullets, in order to test the value of the males, demonstrated that males are entirely unnecessary. In fact, the pullets in yards contain ing no males not only layed more eggs than did the pullets that were with males, but also produced eggs at less cost. A writer says:* ino demonstration oi this fact by an actual test will effect a revolution in the keeping of laying hens. It means a saving of food, less dis position to quarrel, better keoping qualities of the eggs, and a cheapen ing of the cost of the eggs, as well as a saving of the space occupied by males which should be given to hens or pullets. Those who desire to hatch chicks can select a dozen of the best females and confine them in a yard with a pure-bred male. As one male can sire a thousand chicks in one year, it is plain that but few males are necessary. The usual practice i s to allow one male with ten hens, which compels the feeding of a hundred males if as many as a thou sand hens are retained. The greatest advantage derived, in addition to the increase of eggs and the saving of food, labor and space is that eggs from hens not with males will keep three or fqur times as long as will eggs from hens that are with males. If eggs are to tie preserved it is detrimental to keep males in the flocks. When it is considered that a large number of males become expensive, and that the hens will produce more eggs when the males are not present, and also that the problem of preserving eggs is solved by keeping no males, the farmer should hereafter make it a rule to do away with males entirely, unless chicks are to be hatched. With the non-sitting breeds, where eggs only are desired, and not chicks the male is a useless member of the flock.—Journal of Agriculture. Stock Notes. It is throwing away food to feed animals more than they can digest. Good breeding must be acompanied with good care, or it will be a fail ure. One redeeming feature of the hedge fence is that stock are never seriously injured by it Feed the low-priced crops and sell them at better prices in the form of beef, pork, poultry, etc. It costs more in the beginning ato start with thoroughbred stock but it generally pays in the end. It will not pay to have a hired band with an uncontrollable temper to manage the horses., even if he does work for a small price. He will make fools of every horse on the place. If you have no other reason for keeping an animal through the winter than the hope of getting e higher price for it in the spring, it may be better for you to sell it as soon as you can. Stock raisers should keep well posted on the markets. While it is all right for the middleman to have a reasonable margin for his trouble, it is not right for him to make more in a few hours than the man who raised the stock gets for a year or two of care and labor. Household Helps. The seeds of dates may be removed and replaced by freshly roasted pea nuts, shelled and skinned. The date should then be dusted with pulver ized sugar. Felt, is desirable for decorative purposes. A pretty table cover may be made of white felt, painted in old rose, bow-knot and yellow chrysan themum design. The border may be of fringe or done in ribbon loops. In hand-sewing, if the work is stiff and hard, rubbing soap on one’s needle and fingers will be found help ful. A thin edged piece of white soap is much better than chalk for making fine lines on cloth to cut by. Whatever a house does or does not contain, it should have a plentiful supply of footstools. There is nothing so fatiguing as a never lifted pressure on the feet, and nothing more refreshing than to get the weight of the body from them by resting on something above the level of the floor. A good furniture polish, which gives a'soft. oily finish to furniture and woodwork, is made of one scant ounce of linseed oil, one full ounce of turpentine and three-fourths of an ounce of cider vinegar. Shake it until thoroughly mixed. Then rub [ the furniture with the mixture, al ; l°w it to stand a short time and polish it well with a soft, dry flannel , cloth. j The following is an excellent for ! mula for camphor wash balls: White ! soap, one-half pound; spermaceti, one-half ounce; boiling water suffi cient to cover the soap when shred up finely, and leave until dissolved, i ihen beat up, adding rather more | than half an ounce of finely pow dered camphor, make into round balls and dry in a dry, cool place for some weeks. Prevention of Polnaii Every now and then a '**’ quest ha. tobeheldnoaD^> «ome unfortunate , body inalloved thT^SK?^ which was intended for * b°Ul« only. Such mishaps areimil™41 ^ Germany, where the lawfe,ble h druggists to put ud all „,^3nire* th« drugs inroad bot5£a»«> 4* for external use, in ribbed ™.l“ ^•‘‘oua bottles. Hence, any one panbf^4®0Iul certainty, even in the dark an!?1 ,or 4 he cannot read a word , eTe» ii bottle he takes contaiA. be^b*r ^ rr"° “ruKir»is in this and other ’ tries adopt some such classic . C0H“ the absence of any enactingtl0n’bul it obligatory takes away from S*ki“S vice or prescription almmTL he “ the legislature were tablish the rule, no in to buy them. Ask for our $2.5©. fJU'O and $4.00 Shoes. Ukttbu Than any other Make._ FACTORY AT OMAHA, KEB West, if yourdeaS Shoe Co E. KKR SEYKORAS LUN6 BALSAM ««**antmd .. ULiaaiMo a.un« uhliIHH cureCouabs.r in,, Croup, Bron hltla, Consumption. Natpbes Re* *])Y, composed of healing r ots. herbs harks and gun,a. Fo. sale by all druggists. 25c4.i0c per boite SEYKORAS CUTINE SAlvE eAr-“H night cracked hans from husking corn Sovereign rem >dy for cuts, burns, bruises, old sores. Hirers, piles, salt rheum and all skin diseases. At all drug gists. 25c per box. 8EYR).,511 So. 12th St. $1.0 pe» yc»r *K<=xiKV 511 So. 12th s't., Otu*!1®’