• li " " ■ ' — ■ - ' ' . ' ■
I The
\ DESTROYER
By BURTON E. STEVENSON
CHAPTER XIV—(Continued).
“We will say good by, then, for
the present,” added the admiral,
with a touch of irony. “We shall,
perhaps, be forced again to call
upon you.”
A second time Hausmann bowed.
When Miss Vard entered her
stateroom, that day, to brush her
hair before going to lunch, her
nostrils were assaulted by a most
unpleasant odor, and, when a cur
sory inspection of the room failed
to disclose its cause, she sum
moned the steward and asked him
to investigate. An hour later, a
white capped official approached
Mr. Vard, who was looking vainly
through the collection of books in
the library for something he cared
to read, and informed him, with
many apologies, that it would be
necessary for him to change liis
stateroom. Just what was wrong
with No. 514 it was impossible to
say; but it could not be denied
that there was a bad odor there,
whose source had not been discov
ered, and the only alternative
seemed to be to shut it up until the
end of the voyage and then to
overhaul it thoroughly.
“Very well,” said Vard. “I
have no objection to changing.
But I cannot understand how a
cubicle with floor, ceiling and
walls of steel, could so suddenly
become insanitary.”
“It is a mystery to us also, sir,
and one which we shall look into
very thoroughly. We regret it ex
tremely.
“Not at all,” said Vard, some
what astonished that so much
should be made of the matter.
“Have the steward change our
baggage to the new quarters, and
then come and show me where
they are, and let us forget all
about it”
“It is most kind of you to take
it so good naturedly,” protested
the officer. “The embarrassing
thing to us is that, as there is no
vacant stateroom in the second
cabin, we shall have to transfer
you to the first”
I Yard looked at him.
“And you expect me to pay the
difference!” ho asked.
“Oh, no; not at all,” the other
hastily assured him. “We had not
thought of such a thing! But we
feared you might have some objec
tion to first class, and that the
change would inconvenience you
frtill more.”
Vard smiled grimly.
“As a matter of fact, I have an
objection to first class,” he said,
“but it is largely that of wasting
money for which I have a better
use. The people one sees there al
so do not appeal to me. I fear
moat of them are idle fools. But
perhaps the library is better se
lected.”
“Oh, it is much larger than
this 1' ’ the officer agreed. “ I may
take it, then, that you consent!”
“Certainly. We can’t stay in a
stateroom that smells as ours
does.”
“Then,” said the other, “if you
will inform your daughter, I will
myself conduct you to your new
quarters.”
So Miss Yard was summoned,
their steward was loaded with
baggage, and after a glance
around No. 514 to assure herself
that nothing had been overlooked,
Miss Vard found herself following
her father and the white capped
German along a narrow passage,
past a steel door that was un
locked for them, and up the com
panion way to a very handsome
suite opening on the upper prome
nade. It consisted of two bed
rooms and a sitting room, and
Kasia, as she glanced about it,
could not repress an exclamation
of surprise.
“Are we to stay here!” she
asked.
“Yes, madame,” and the offi
cial smiled. “It is the only thing
we have to offer. I am glad that
it pleases you. It will help you to
forget the inconvenience of chang
ing,” and, having waited until the
Steward had deposited his burden,
he motioned him out before him,
bowed and withdrew.
| Kasia made a quick tour of the
room, admiring its elegant fur
nishings, glanced into the bed
rooms, and then came back to her
father.
“I don’t understand it!” she
said. “Why should they give ns
all this?*’
Her father regarded her in some
surprise.
IS
“Why, my dear,” he said, “you
have heard the explanation. I do
not for a moment imagine that the
steamship company would have
been so generous if there had been
any way to avoid it!”
“No, I suppose not!” Kasia
agreed, and set. herself to arrange
their belongings—it was almost
like fitting up a flat! ‘ ‘ This suit
case is very heavy, father,” she
adder, after a moment. “Will you
put it in your room T”
“Of course,” and Vard lifted it,
started for the bedroom, and then
turned and placed it on the little
table which stood between the
windows. “I will have a look at
it, first,” he said, loosened the
straps, took a key from a flapped
compartment of his pocketbook
and put it in the lock. “One
would scarcely believe, Kasia, ’ ’ he
added, with a smile, * ‘ that this lit
tle bag contains the destiny of the
world!”
“No,” she said, and came and
stood beside him, one arm about
him, her head against his shoul
der.
He turned the key and raised
the lid. Then he put aside some
articles of clothing and lifted
from beneath them an oblong box,
open at the ends. One saw, on
looking closer, that the sides of
the box were of glass, partially
covered on both sides with tin foil;
and peering in at the open end,
one perceived a vague maze of
wires and pinions.
Vard gazed at it for some mo
menta without speaking.
“There it is, Kasia,” he said at
last, “the wonder worker, which,
properly tuned and and connected
with its batteries, generates a
force which puts an end to armies
and to fleets. With it in the world,
there can be no more war—and if
there is no more war, there is the
end of kings and tyrants. It is a
great thought, is it not, my daugh
ter!”
“A great thought!” she echoed,
but her voice was shaking, and
die shivered a little and drew
closer to him. “And yet, father,
think what an awful force it would
be if it fell into unscrupulous
hands! It is that which makes me
tremble sometimes!”
“You do not fear me, Kasia!”
he asked reproachfully.
“No, father; of course not!”
He replaced the mechanism, cov
ered it carefully with clothing,
closed the lid, locked it, and re
turned the key to his pocket. Then
he carried the bag to his bedroom
and slipped it under the bed. At
last he came back to his daughter.
“I will not deny, Kasia,” he
said, “that I have been tempted,
more than once. Not by the pros
pect of wealth or power—those
cannot tempt me; but by the
thought that, after subduing the
world, I might ‘ remould it nearer
to the heart’s desire/ And yet
how vain to fancy that I or any
man possesses tho wisdom to do
that! No; that cannot be." Each
nation must shape its own destiny,
as friends and brothers. It is for
me to strike the swords from their i
hands!
But still Kasia trembled and a
shadow lay across her face.
“What is it .you feart” her
father asked, looking at her.
“It seems too great a destiny!”
she answered, with quivering lips.
“There is so great a risk! Suppose
some one should steal that instru
ment • * •”
‘‘That would do no harm. I can
make another—100 others! That
is my purpose. The whole world
must know of it—must possess it.
Every nation must know that, the
instant it marches to war, it risks
annihilation. I see no danger
there.”
‘ ‘ But suppose, ’ ’ Kasia persisted,
“that the man who stole it should
kill you—what then! Oh, I have
thought of it, father, so much, so
closely, all through the night! We
must run no risk like that.”
Vard took a rapid turn up and
down the room. He was deeply
perturbed. At last he paused be
side her.
“You are right, Kasia,” he said.
“ I do not believe there is any dan
ger—yet we must run no risk like
that! Well, it is easy to avoid it!
Wait!”
He disappeared into his bed
room, and Kasia heard him pull
ing out the bag and opening it.
Then the lock snapped again, the
bag was pushed back under the
bed, and her father rejoined her.
He held in his hand a little case of
polished steel. Within it were
three filament like wires wound
peculiarly around a series of tiny
pins. •
, “Here it is,” he said, “the very
heart of the mechanism. Without
this it is useless. Without this, it
is merely a transformer. It can do
no one any harm—can betray no
secret.”
Kasia took the little box and
looked at it.
“ Js this difficult to make, fath
er?” she asked.
“It took me eight years to make
that one; but 1 can make another
in two days, or perhaps three.”
“You are sure of that?”
“Oh, yes,” and he smiled. “It
is very intricate, yet very simple
when one has the clue. Every
convolution of those filaments is
photographed on my brain. I can
close my eyes and see them wind
ing in and out. ’ ’
The girl hesitated, the little box
still in her hand.
“Then it would be safe to de
stroy this?” she asked, at last.
“Safe? Yes! That is my mean
ing! Let us destroy it!”
Still a moment she paused, then
she closed her hand.
“Yes,” she agreed; “let us de
stroy it.”
Her father nodded his head in
differently. With him the moment
of tension had passed.
“Drop it into the sea,” he said.
“That will end it. Now, I think, I
shall go and examine the books in
the library.”
He went ont and closed the
door; but Kasia stood for a long
time without moving, staring at
tho little box of polished metal.
After all, if he should not repro
duce it; if there should be some
convolution he had missed, some
accidental conjunction he was not
aware of! If to destroy it now
would be to destroy it forever!
Better that, of course, than run
the other risk! But was there no
other way? Perhaps, perhaps • • •
CHAPTER XV.
A WORD OF WARNING.
Wherefore it happened that Dan
Webster, searching promenade
and saloon and library, that after
noon, mounting to the boat deck,
descending to the lower deck,
peeping into every nook and cor
ner where passengers of the sec
ond class were permitted to pene
trate, looked in vain for Kasia
Vard. Nor was her father any
where to be seen. At last, per
ceiving the curious glances shot in
his direction, and having stumbled
for the third time over the same
outstretched pair of feet, he
mounted gloomily to the boat deck
and sat down to think it out.
The weather continued fine and
the sea smooth, so that it was ab
surd to suppose that either of
them was ill; and that they should
keep to their stateroom on such an
afternoon for any other reason or
even for that one, was more ab
surd still. Perhaps, if they were
working * * *
The thought brought him sud
den relief. That explained it! They
had some work they were doing
together. Perhaps Kasia acted as
her father’s secretary, and even
now was writing to his dictation.
She had said that he was engaged
in some gigantic project, the na
ture of which Dan understood buir
dimly—a plan for the disarma
ment of the world or something
like that. As he remembered them
here in the cold light of day, her
words of the night before seemed
more than a little fantastic; but
perhaps he had not understood, or
perhaps she had spoken figurative
ly. “The nations of the world in
the hollow of his hand”—that, of
course, was figurative. And,
equally of course, Yard’s plan
would coxrte to nothing. But it
would be interesting to know more
of it.
He must have a talk with Yard
before the voyage ended. A story
like that would make good copy,
and a little newspaper propaganda
would help the thing along. Mean
while, there was nothing to do but
wait until Miss Vard should
choose to reappear. He cast his
mind back over the story she had
told him—ye gods! what a feat
ure that would make, told just as
she had told it, simply and earn
estly and without embellishment.
Perhaps he could persuade her to
write it for the Record. He could
picture the shining face of Crafts
man, the Sunday editor, as he read
it!
Some one, crossing the deck un
perceived by him, sat dow* be
side him. He turned quiekly;
but it was only Chevrial.
“Ah, M. Webster,” said the
Frenchman, smiling, “you were
among the day dreams; and they
were not of me. That is apparent
from the look with which you re
gard me!”
Dan flushed a little, and then he
laughed. There was no resisting
| Chevrial’s genial hnmor,
“No,” he admitted; “they were
of some one quite different.”
“Nevertheless, until that ‘some
one ’ appears, 1 trust that I am wel
come?”
“Indeed you are. I’m glad you 1
came!”
Dan spoke warmly, and his com
panion, with a little satisfied nod,
settled baek into the seat. They
had seen very little of each other
since the moment of meeting. Dan
had gone to bed the previous night
before his room riiate appeared,
and had not even heard him come
in. This morning, when he arose,
Chevrial Was sleeping calmly, and
Dan had gathered his clothes to
gether as noiselessly as he could
and stolen away to the bathroom.
They had passed each other once
or twice on the promenade, and
had nodded but had not spoken—
and then Dan remembered sud
denly the flare of light from the
nearby bench the night before, as
he and Kasia rose to go below.
Chevrial smiled again as he met
his glance.
“You are thinking of ' last
night?” he said. “Yes? It is con
cerning that I wish first to speak
to you. When I sat down yonder
I was not conscious that this bench
was occupied. You and the young
lady were speaking in very low
tones, and the bench itself was in
shadow. It was only when she
raised her voice that I realized I
was hearing what was not in
tended for me. I was just about to
go, when she stopped abruptly,
and a moment later you went
down together. It was then that
you noticed me. , I struck the
match in order that you might see
that it was I, and so have no un
easiness. ’ ’
Dan stared at his companion in
astonishment.
“Uneasiness?” he repeated.
“But why should I have any un
easiness ? ’ ’
“Not on your own account, of
course, but on the young lady’s
account. ’ ’
“But I don’t see why, even for
her,’ I should be uneasy,” said
Dan perplexedly.
“My dear sir,” and Chevrial
dropped his voice and spoke very
earnestly, “there are always spies
on these big boats—this is a most
productive field for them—Ger
man spies, French spies, English
spies, listening to each word,
watching each gesture. Suppose
one of them had chanced to hear
what I did • •
Dan stared a moment longer,
then he burst into laugh.
“Oh, come, M. Chevrial,” he
protested. . “You don’t really be
lieve that?”
“Believe what?”
“About the spies.”
Chevrial’s face grew a little
grim.
“I am not one to offer advice
where it is not desired, ’ ’ he said;
“but I assure you, M. Webster,
that what I have told you is true,
and furthermore had any one of
three or four persons who are on
this boat heard what I heard, that
girl and her father would have
been under espionage for the re
mainder of their lives. ’ ’
It was easy to see that Chevrial
spoke in deadly earnest, and, in
spite of himself, Dan was im
pressed and sobered.
“I beg your pardon,” he said;
‘1 perhaps you are right; but to an
American the very idea of such a
system is laughable—it savors to
much of cheap melodrama. But
why should the story Miss Vard
told me interest any one?”
“My dear sir,” answered Chev
rial, drily, “when a girl goes
about boasting that her father is
more powerful than the czar or
kaiser! Suppose she had stopped
there, any hearer would have con
cluded that he was an anarchist,
and therefore to be watched. But
she went further: she asserted
that he can blow up forts and de
stroy armies! That he can wreck
battleships. Why, M. Webster, it
is only four days since La Liberte,
the greatest of french battleships,
was destroyed in the harbor of
Toulon by an agency not yet de
termined!”
Dan had turned a little pale.
“But you don’t imagine,” he
stammered; “surely you don’t
• • *’>
Chevrial flipped away his cigar
et ash negligently.
“That La Libert was destroyed
by this man! Absurd! But, never
theless, it is a bad time to make
such boasts.”
“I can see that,” agreed Dan.
“I will speak to Miss VariL”
“I would do so, by all means.
She seems a most interesting girl,
and I should regret to see her in
volved in an unpleasant situation.
Or her father,” Chevrial added.
“A most interesting enthusiast!”
“You have talked with him!”
(CONTINUED NEXT* WEEK.)
Two scientists in Europe have de
cided that the human brain is radio
active and emits a faint slow under
certain conditions.
I ~~~ .
SERVES NATIONAL'
DEFENCE COUNCIL
* »£>♦
Robert 3. Brookins.
Robert S. Brookins, a St. Louis
merchant, is one of the four civilian
members of the war industries board.
'Air. Brookins has gained pre-emi
nence in educational affairs as well
as in business, having been active in
developing Washington University
*3 well as occupying positions on the,
board of trustees of the Camegie In
stitution and the Carnegie peace
foundation
That Silver Deluge.
From the Detroit Free Press.
Silver bullion having now reached the
■notation it was holding In 1892, the year
»efore the repeal of the Sherman pur
chasing act, there may he an opportunity
to test the truth of a belief that was prev
ilent in some quarters in those days. A
food many people seriously thought then
that there were veritable mountains of
■liver ore out west and that unless some
thing was done at once by the government
the world would be flooded with the white
metal and silver would be a drug on the
market. The average price of silver in
1892 was 87 cents an ounce, a trifle lower
than the prices now quoted In New York.
If there were inexhaustible ore bodies
waiting for shipment then they will be In
evidence now, since the improvements il»
mineral saving processes will fully offset
the rise In other costs of production and
leave as much margin of profit now as in
the '90s. But it is safe to say that silver
will not replace tin as material for do
mestic utensils. The largest American pro
duction of silver in any year prior to the
repeal of the Sherman act was only 63,
•00,000 ounces, this record being reached
in 1892, when the fears of a silver flood
were rampant, and for the last three years
the output of the United States has been
more than 72,000,000 ounces annually. The
silver deluge was only a campaign argu
ment.
The Quiet Life.
Happy the man, whose wlrfi and car*
A few paternal acres bound.
Content to breathe his native air
In Ills own ground!
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with
bread.
Whose flocks supply him with attire:
Whose trees in summer yield him shade.
In winter, fire.
Blest, who can unconcerh’dly find
Hours, days and years slide soft away
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day.
Sound sleep by night: study and ease
Together mix’d; sweet recreation.
And Innocence, which most does pleas*
With meditation.
Thus let me live unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world and not a stone
Tell where I lie.
—A. Pope,
Union Pacific Dividends.
Wall Street Journal.
Union Pacific Railroad company has de
clared the regular quarterly dividend of 2
per cent and an extra dividend of one-half
of 1 per cent on the common and regular
semi-annual dividend of 2 per cent on the
preferred, all payable October 1 to stock
of record September 1.
Union Pacifies declaration of a one-half
of 1 per cent extra dividend on the com
mon, the same as three months, ago and
six months ago, In addition to the regular
quarterly dividend of 2 per cent would
seem to indicate that a 10 per cent rate
for the stock Is established—at least while
the present high rate of earnings holds.
Th.e payment of 2 per cent extra In Janu
ary, presumably based on the earnings
of 1916 and bringing the returns to stock
holders up to 10 per cent for that period,
adds strength to this conclusion.
From 1907 to 1913, Inclusive, 10 per cent
was the regular rate of Union Pacific.
The rate was reduced to 8 per cent July
1, 1914, but on July 20 stockholders received
as a special dividend 912 In Baltimore &
Ohio preferred and $22.50 til Baltimore &
Ohio common as well as $3 in cash per
share out of surplus. Stockholders of
Union Pacific who have retained the
shares of Baltimore & Ohio distributed
at that time have received In the divi
dends therefrom a continued equivalent of
per cent on their Union Pacific hold
ings. bringing the return to 9% per bent.
Their present income from Union Pacific
In on a 10 per cent basis Irrespective of
anv Baltimore A Ohio holdings.
Union Pacific’s return to 10 per cent in
Januarj of this year followed a year of
record operating revenues. Earnings for
the year ended December 31, 1916, were
$17.64 a share for the common stock, as
compared with $12.42 in 1915.
For the first six months of this year
gross earnings were $58,730,189, as com
pared with $50,606,976 in the corresponding
period in 1916. while net after taxes was
$18,849,448 against $18,674,866.
Promising.
Little Marlon's father was the only prac
tising physician in the town. One morning
the little girl, who evidently had an eye
to business, came running to her mother
and, in tones that had a ring of earnest
ness, told her that she must call upon
their new neighbor at once, ,
"And why, dear, must 1 call on her?"
questioned her mother, amused at the
child's positiveness.
“Well, in the first place,” explained the
little miss, "they've got four of the
scrawniest kids you ever saw, and then
the mother herself doesn't look very
strong.”
Extent of Africa.
From the Christian Herald.
Nearly one-fourth of the earth's land
surface is comprised within the continent
of Africa, and it is far around the coast
of Africa a* it is around the world. Kvery
eighth person of the world’s population
Uvea in the dark continent. The blacks
double their number every 40 years, and
the whites every- 80 years. There are S43
languages and dialects spoken among the
blacks of Africa, but .only a few of them
written. One area in Africa unoccupied
by missionaries is three times the size of
New Kngland. a second would make four
state* like New York, and another is 18
times the size of Ohio. Throughout Africa
there is ope missionary for every 133,
090 souls.
Rebuffed.
From ©e New York Times.
Mrs, Marten (to small daughter saying
prayers)—‘‘A little louder, dear. 1 can't
Bear.”
Daughter—“Tea, but I'm not speaking
to you.”
! PAIN? NOT A BIT I: j
LIFT YOUR CORNS r j
| OR CALLUSES OFF
I I No humbug! Apply few drops i
then Ju6t lift them away t
i
• with fingers.
If / I
This new drug is an ether compound
discovered by a Cincinnati chemist. It
is called freezone, and can
now be obtained in tiny
bottles as here shown at
very little cost from any
drug store. Just ask for
freezone. Apply a drop or
two directly upon a tender
corn or callus and instant
ly the soreness disappears.
Shortly you will find the
corn or callus so loose that
you can lift it off, root
and all, with the fingers.
Not a twinge of pain,
soreness or irritation; not
even the slightest smart
ing, either when applying
freezone or afterwards.
This drug doesn’t eat up
the corn or calhts, but
shrivels them so they loos
en and come right out. It
is no humbug! It works
like a charm. For a few
cents you can get rid of ev
ery hard com, soft com or
com between the toes, as well as pain
ful calluses on bottom of your feet. It
never disappoints and never bums,
bites or inflames. If your druggist
hasn’t any freezone yet, tell him to
get a little bottle for yon from his
wholesale house.—adv.
ORCHID ICE CREAM COMMON
It Does Not Bear That Aristoeratlo
Title but Goes by the Very Ple
beian Name of Vanilla.
Very few of us would ever think of
ordering orchid Ice cream without a
little tremor of the pocket book, for
everyone knows that the orchid Is the
most, expensive of flowers. But there
are thousands of persons who eat or
chid ice cream dally. Although they
probably have not been aware of the
distinction, It Is none the less a fact.
Of course the Ice cream Is not ordered
by the aristocratic name of orchid.
On the contrary, it bears the very ple
beian name of vanilla.
There are said to be no less than
15,000 varieties of orchid scattered
over the earth. All of them have the
peculiar artificial beauty and the
haunting odor that seems Inseparable
from this flower, which looks almost
as though It were a product of an un
healthy condition In nature. Of all
these 15,000 varieties, only one has any
practical value, and that Is the one
from which vanilla comes. The plant
grows abundantly In South and Cen
tral America, and has been transplant
ed to other tropical countries, where
it is now flourishing.
Waited Eighteen Years for It.
Talk about the returning traveler,
and how he feels his heart beat when .
he returns to Ills native shore from a
long, long sojourn In a foreign land!
Here’s Frederick Rockwood, New Eng
lander by birth and a resident of Bo
gota, Colombia, for 18 years as consul,
newspaper correspondent and general
agent.
He landed in this country a few days
ago, perfectly tickled to death, as the
girls say, to get back to the B. S. A.
But did he fall down and kiss the
shores or offer burnt sacrifices?
He did not.
He had been longing for a good
sized dish of corned beef hash ever
since he went to Colombia 18 years
ago. He had been saving up a corned
beef hash appetite all these years. So
when he landed the first thing he did
was to go to a restaurant and order
five portions of his favorite food.—Earl
Goodwin in Washington Star.
You can’t tell how well-heeled a
man is by the size of his shoes.
Where there’s a will' there’s always
an heir.
[ • * J|1 s m .
you never
tasted
Grape-Nuts
FOOD
you have
missed
one of the
good things
in life t
9 >74