. —.1 X - ' ■ . Hardly a Compliment. Tn the excitement of the moment public speakers often say the opposite of what they mean to convey, and “when Henry Irving gave a reading in the Ulster hall, in 1878," says Bram j Stoker, in "Personal Reminiscences of Henry Irving,” “one speaker made as pretty an Irish bull as could be found, though the bull is generally sup posed to belong to other provinces than the hard-headed Ulster. In des canting on the many virtues of the guest of the evening he mentioned the excellence of his moral nature and rect itude of his private life in these terms: “Mr. Irving, sir, is a gentle man what leads a life of unbroken blemish.’ ” Different. “That man wouldn't touch a cent that didn’t belong to him.” “I know,” replied Mr. Dustin Stax. “But how about giving him a chance at $10,000?” The Simple Life. Mrs. Knicker—You will have to get up to light the Are. Knicker—Unnecessary, my dear; I never smoke before breakfast. 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Peter* Bile. k Dlfttrilmilag Co., Dexter, Mica. tR HO ttAQU an(* W-00 P«r month pays for 40 ywiUt,9 uncn acres Central British (jolmnoia near railroad, where farm lands are cheap, soli fer tile.olJ mate superb. Post yourself. Information free. Nechaco Valley Land Syndicate, Vancouver, B. C. f'OIt 81.00—'Two palm ladles’ or men’ black silk ose. Guaranteed pure thread silk. Money refund ed if not satisfactory. MANHATTAN H1LK HOST MBY COMPANY, 346 Broadway, New York. Packed in handsome fancy box for Christmas present. DEFIANCE STARCH— • e-other starches only 12 ounces—same price and **DEFJAffCK" IS SUPERIOR QUALITY. t ____ ^ m e IvTb aT» ? for Couchs 6 Coups i The Diamond Ship MAX PEMBERTON Author of "Doctor Xavier," "The Hundred Days," etc. Copyright by D. Appleton & Co. I ____ —PROLOGUE— Something sensationally new in the nature of a sea story. That is what the gifted Max Pemberton, favorite of the fiction readers of Europe has given us In "The Diamond Ship." He reveals the workings of the master mind that controls one of the most stupendous criminal agencies the world has ever known; he shows how a polished blackguard can divert the entire course of a sweet young girl's life; he pictures the bravery and loyalty of the devil may-care jack tars in mortal combat to vanquish a treacherous and ignoble foe; he indicates the reward that tomes to him who wages conflict against heaviest odds, to stifle villiany and to protect helpless, trustful virtue. The advehture detected In this wide ly lauded novel will send the blood faster through the veins than it ever coursed before, and the love story of Eah Tabos and Joan Fordtbras will cling to the memory of the reader as one of the most inspiring romances of modern times. CHAPTER I. THE PREFACE OF TIMOTHY M’SHANUS, JOURNALIST. It would have been at the Fancy Fair and Fete at Kensington town hall that my friend Dr. Fabos first mpt Miss Fordibras. “McShanus,” said he, "if there’s any one knows a good supper, 'tis yourself. Lead forth to the masquerade. Spare no expense. Your friends are my friends. I would have this a memor able night—the last I may be in Lon don for many a year.” There were seven of us who took him at his word and got into the cab to getner. you must iuiow uiai ue ii.*u paid for a little dinner at the Gold smith club, and never a man who did not justice to his handsome hospitality. ’Tis a poor heart that never rejoices; and Ean Fabos paid for it—as I took the opportunity to remark to my good friend Killock, the actor. “Shall we pay for the cab?" says he. “Would vou insult the most gener ous heart in Great Britain this night7” says I. "On reflection,” says he, “the man ■who does not pay will have no trouble about his change;” and with that we went into the hall. My old comrade, Barry Henshavv, had come in a velvet shooting coat and a red neckcloth that was not to the taste of the officials at the box office. Killock himself had diamonds strewn upon his vest thick enough to make a pattern of chrys anthemums. My own cravat would have been no disgrace to the Emperor Napoleon. And there we stood, seven members of seven honorable profes sions, like soldiers at the drill, our eyes upon the refreshment buffet. " ’Tis time for a whisky and soda,” says Barry Henshaw, the famous dramatist who has written for the theater. “Shame on ye,” nays I. And then he remarked; "If Fabos was a gentleman he would Join the procession and pay for it. But that’s the worst of these shows. You always lost the man with the money.” I passed the observation by as im pertinent and we went to the buffet. What they called the fancy fair was in full swing by this time. Slips of beauty dressed as shepherdesses mis took me and my friend for their sheep and would have fleeced us prettily; but our lofty utterance restrained their ardor and sent them to the rightabout. 'Twas a fair, be it told, for the sailor boys at Portsmouth; and when you had bought a bunch of daisies for 10 shil lings of a maid with blue eyes and oherry lips, you could waltz with the same little vixen at 6 shillings a time. My friend, Barry, I observed, turned very pale at this suggestion. “Do you not lift the sprightly toe?” asked I. “Man,” he said, "it’s worse than a channel passage.” “But Fabos is dancing,” said I, point ing to our host in the midst of the rab ble. "See what comes of the plain liv ing. my boy. He'll dance until the sun shines. And a pretty 5 shillings’ worth he has on his arm.” ’Twas odd how we fell to discussing this same Dr. Ean Fabos upon every occasion that came to us. Was It be cause of his money. I venture, no. We of the Goldsmith club care for no man's money. What I was saying 'twas that Ean Fabos' riches made no more mark upon us than a lady's parasol upon the back of a mule. They said he was a doctor of Cambridge whose father had made a fortune out of Welsh coal and then Joined his ancestors. My homage to his consideration, say I. He has bequeathed us a noble son, whose dinners are second to none in the empire. Again I say, hats off. But I speak of his son danblng with the little girl in red at the fancy fair at Kensington. Be sure that his six feet one would go bending to 6S inches and whispering soft things In her ear at 5 shillings the waltz, as the program ♦ trot A vwl ~ ordinarily. I’d add to it that there’s nq true charity In all London which has not benefited secretly by his generous alms. But that Is known to few * • * and was never known to mo until I met the daughter of my friend Os ycroft, the painter; left an orphan as she was in this same unkind cltv. What Is If then about Ean Fabos that turns all eyes upon him In what ever company he may he? Some, for sure, hope to borrow money of him. But. mark ye, there are many more] Rtrangers to him, enemies because of the favor he enjoys, and these are on tliclr knees with the rest. What Is It. then? I’ll tell you In a word. ’Tis that great power of what they call per sonal magnetism; a power that we can give no right name to, hut must admit wherever we find It. Ean Fabos had it beyond any man I have known. Now. this Is the verv man whom I saw dancing with a black haired shepherdess in a red cloak. When he surrendered her to her father, a stately old gentleman and I asked him who hU’ might be, he answered me with the frankness of a hoy. ’’Timothy McShanus.” snvs he. "she’s the daughter of General Fordbras. whose ancestor went to America with the Marquis de Lafayette! "Your friend Lafayette was known to my grandfather." says I, leading him straight to the buffet, "though I do not remember to have met him. As for the labor that ye speak of, I would ask you why yon do It If ye have no stomach for it? To dance or not to dance—shall that be the question? I was much astonished when he took me by the arm and made the strangest oonfession that ever fell from such a man’s lips. ”1 danced with her. McShanUs,” said lie, •'because she Is wearing the bronze pearl* that were stolen from my flat in Paris Just three years ago.” “Is there but one bronze pearl lit the world?” I asked him after a while of surprise. i i Ho turned upon me that weary smile. "There are Just 10 of that particular shape, McShanus," says he, "and she Is wearing four of them in the pendant on her neck. The heart is a rose dia mond which once belonged to Princess Marguerite of Austria. There is a sweet little white sapphire In the ring that I fancy I remember somewhere. If she i will give me another dance I will tell you more perhaps." | "Would you have me think that yon bit of a girl is a thief?” "Oh," says he, his clear blue eyes full upon me. "does an Irishman ever give himself time to think? Come, McShan us, use your wits. If she or her father knew that the Jewels were stolen, would she be wearing them in a ball room in I,ondon?" “Why, no, she certainly would not." "Wrong every time, Timothy Mc Shanus. She would wear them for mere bravado. That's what I've been telling myself while I danced with her. If she does not know the truth, her father does." “What, the military looking gentle man who so closely resembles my friend, General von Moltke?" "No other at all. I have me doubts about him. He knows that his daugh ter is wearing stolen Jewels, but he has not the smallest idea that I know. Hither that, or he is clever enough to play Hamlet in a tam-o-shanter. Ex cuse my unwonted agitation, McShan us. This is really very interesting,” and he left me. Here was Timothy McShanus next deserting the baked meats, to say noth ing of his convenient corner in the buffet, to go out and stare at a red shepherdess with picture books and maizypop to sell. And what kind of " ' IV CI1CIL 11C DtlW l VV 11^ , nothing out of the ordinary when viewed from afar—but come a little closer and you shall see the blackest and the wickedest pair of eyes that ever looked out from the face of Venus. ’Tis no common man I am in my judg ment of the sex; but this I will say that when the girl looked at me, she found me as red In the face as a sol dier at court martial. Not tall above the common; her hair a deep chestnut running almost to black; her mouth just a rosebud between two pretty cheeks—there was something of France and something of America helping each other to make a wonder of her. Young as she was, and I supposed her to be about 18, her figure would have given her live years more according to our northern ideas; but I, who know Eu rope as 1 know Pall Mall, said: "No, she is 18, McShanus, my boy, and America has kept that peach blossom upon her cheeks.” Had I been mis taken, her voice would have corrected me. ’Twas a young girl’s voice when she spoke, clear and musical as the song of silver bells. "Now, won’t you buy a novel?” she said, bustling up to me just like a bunch of roses. "Here’s Sir Arthur Hall Rider’s very latest—an autograph copy for one guinea.” “Me dear,” says I, ”’tis Timothy Mc Shanus who reads his own novels. Speak not of his poor rivals.” “How strange that I don’t know your name," says she perplexed; “did they review your novels in the newspapers?" “My dear,” says I, "the newspaper reviewers couldn’t understand ’em. Be kind to them for It. Ye can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear any more than ye can make black pearls out of lollypops. Could it be, Timothy Mc Shanus would be driving his own motor car and not rejulced to the back seat of the omnibus. ’Tis a strange world with more wrong than right in It.” "You like my pearls, then?" she asked. I said they were almost worthy of her wearing them. “Papa bought them in Paris,” she ran on as natural as could be. “They’s not black, you know, but bronze. I don’t care a bit about them myself. I like things that sparkle.” “Like your eyes,” cried I, searching for the truth in them. For sure, I could have laughed aloud just at my friend Fabos’ tale of her; "like your eyes when you were dancing a while back with a doctor of my acquaint ance.” She flushed a hair’s breadth and turned her head away. "Oh, Dr. Fabos, do you know him, then?” “We have been as brothers for a matter of 10 short years.” "Is he killing people in London, did you say?” "No such honorable employment. He’s just a fine, honest. Independent gentleman. Ye’ve nothing much rich er in America, maybe. The man who says a word against him has got to answer Timothy McShanus. Let him make peace with heaven before he does so.” She turned an arch gaze upon me, half-laughing at my words. “I believe he sent you here to say so,” cried she. “Indeed an’ he did,” says I; "he’s anximis for vour p-onrl rmlninn CHAPTER n. HARRIET FABOS WRITES. I have been asked to write very shortly that which I know of General Fordlbras and my brother’s mysterious departures from England In the sum mer of the year 1904. God grant that all Is well with him and that these lines will be read by no others than the good friends who have not for gotten me in my affliction. It was, I think, in the December of the previous year that he first met the general in London, as I understood from him, at a fashionable baznr at Kensington. This circumstance he re lated to me upon his return; and a sister’s interest in Joan Fordlbras could not be but a growing one. I recollect that the general drove over one day in the spring from Newmar ket and took luncheon with us. He is a fine stately man with a marked American accent and a manner which clearly indicates his French birth. Tho daughter, 1 thought, a pretty, winsome child; very full of quaint sayings and ideas and so unlike our English girls. Ean had spoken of her so often, that I was not prepared for the somewhat distant manner in which he treated her. Perhaps, in my heart, I found myself a little relieved. General Fordibras, it appears, made a hobby of yachting. He lives but lit tle in America, I understand, but much in Paris and the south. Ean used to bo very fond of the sun, but he had given It up so many years that I was sur prised to hear how much a sailor he can be. His own pet things—the lab oratory. the observatory on our grounds, his rare books, above all, his rare jewels—were but spoken of’ in differently. General Fordibras is very little interested in them; while his daughter is sufficiently an American to care chiefly for our antiquities—of which I was able to show her many at Deepdene. When they left us it was to return to London, I understood; and then join the general'* yaght at Cher bourg. Ean spoke little to me of the** peo ple when they were gone. I felt quite happy that he made no mention, of the daughter, Joan. Very foreign to hls usual habits, however, he was con stantly to and fro between our house and London; and I observed, not with out some uneasiness, that he had be come a little nervous. This was the more remarkable because he ha* al ways been singularly fearless and brave, and ready to risk hls own life for others upon the humblest call. At first I thought that he must be out of health and would have had Dr. Wil cox over to see him; but he always resents my attempts to coddle him (as he calls It), and so I forebore, and tried to find another reason. There Is no one quicker than a sis ter who loves, to detect those ailments of the heart from which no man Is free; but 1 had become convinced by this time that Ean cared nothing for Joan Fordlbras, and that her absence abroad was not the cause of hls dis quietude. The first thing that I noticed was hls hesitation to leave me alone at the manor. For the first time for some years he declined to attend the an nual dinner of hls favorite club, the Potters. "I should not be able to catch the last train down,” he said one morning at breakfast. ‘Impossible, Harriet. I must not go." "Why, whatever has come to you, Ean?” said I, "are you getting anxious about poor old me? My dear boy, just think how often I have been alone here?” "Yes. but In future I don't Intend to leave you so much. When the reasons make themselves known to me, they shall be known to you, Harriet. Mean while, I am going to live at home. The little Jap stops with me. He Is com ing down from town today, so I hepe you will make arrangements for him.” He spoke of his Japanese servant Okyada, whom he brought from Tokyo with him three years ago. The little fellow had served him most faithfully at his chambers in the Albany, and I was not displeased to have him down In Suffolk. Ean’s words, however, trou bled me greatly, for I Imagined that some danger threatened him in Lon don, and a sister’s heart was beating already to discover it. "Cannot you tell me something, Ean ?" He laughed boyishly in a way that should have reassured me. "I will tell you something, Harriet. Do you remember the bronze pearls that were stolen from my flat in Paris more than three years ago?" “Of course, Ean—I remember them perfectly How should I forget them? You don’t mean to say-’’ “That I have recovered them? No, not quite. But I know where they are." “Then you will recover them, Ean?” “Ah, that is for tomorrow. Let Okyada, by the way, have the room next to my dressing room. He won’t Interfere with my clothes, Harriet. You will still be able to coddle me as much as you please . . .’’ Now had I been clever, I should have put two and two together and have foreseen that what Ean really feared was another attempt upon the wonder ful collection of rare Jewels he has made—a collection the existence of which is known to very few people, but Is accounted among the most beau tiful and rarest in the country. Ean keeps his Jewels—at least he kept them until recently—in a concealed safe in his own dressing room, and very seldom was even I permitted to peep into that holy of holies. Here again some eccentricity of a lovable character is to be traced. My brother would as soon have thought of wear ing a diamond in his shirt front as of painting his face like an Indian: but these hidden Jewels he loved with a rare ardor, and I do truly believe that they had some share in his own scheme of life. When he lost the bronze pearls in Paris, I know that he fretted like a child for a broken toy. It was not their value, not at all—he called them his black angels, in Jest of course, and I think that he believed some of his own good luck went with them. This was the state of things in the months of May when Okyada, the Jap anese, came from London and took up his residence at the manor. Ean told me nothing; he never referred again to the subject of his lost pearls. Much of his time was spent in his study, where he occupied himself with the bosk he was writing upon the legends of the Adriatic. His leisure he gave to his motor and his observatory. I began to believe that whatever anxiety troubled him had passed; and In this belief I should have continued but for the alarming events of which I now write. And this brings me to the middle of the summer; to be exact, the 15th day of June in the year 19(M. Ean, I remember, had come in from a little trip to Cambridge about 6 o'clock in the afternpon. He called his servant, Okyada, to the study and they were closeted there almost until din ner time. In the drawing room, later one, Ean spoke of some of his deserted hobbles and expressed regret that he had given up his yacht. (Continued Next Week.) In the Vernacular. From the Chicago Tribune. "Sayllz, hoozat?” said the girl at the notion counter. “Hoozoo?” queried the girl at the glove counter. "Jessa ziffew dlddenol’ ' “Lookeermln, wotcha mean?" "Fewdon't knowllz, wotchablushin about?" "AJntablushin I” “Yartoe!” "Minjones yunobetter!” “Swat yarl” "Hoojoo mean, anyhow?” "Fellerspoke wennypass choorcounter." “Dlddunsee anyfeller." "Dlddunteerim, either, didjal” "Cearsnot." "Awkaynoff!’’ "Sayookids,” Interrupted the floorwalk er, “qultoherchlnnlner I’ll reporchal” Hereditary Talent. From the Youth’s Companion. From the postqfflce steps Freeman Davis watched Professor Lane cross the road and entry the wheelwright’s shop on the opposite side. "Goes in an’ out free as you or me,” Mr. Davis remarked to Jabez Sewall, "an’ nobody knows how many letters he’s entitled to write after his name.” Jabez nodded. “But what I can’t Just make out Is how he come by all his smartness. Far's I know none of his forbears ever amounted to much in a lit'rary way.” "What you talkin’ about?” Mr. Davis demanded, warmly. “You know's well’s ' I do that his father could spell Nebu- I chadnezzar quleker'n any other boy In I school." - ■ 1 ■ ♦ •-—— Precise. From the Baltimore American. A young Baltimore man has a ^abit of correcting carelessness in speech that comes to his notice. The other day he walked into a shop and asked for a comb. "Do you want a narrow man’s comb?" asked the clerk. “No” said the ustomer, gravel" "t a comb for a stout tr teeth.” HAD TO BE POSTPONED. 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