| The I DESTROYER -- By BURTON E. STEVENSON L — CHAPTER XXIX (Continued.) “The prince and Pachmann arc there, too,” said Dan; “perhaps others.” He looked up and down the street. “I wonder where we are? There’s the elevated. Come along!” Together they sped to the near est corner. It proved to be Ninth avenue, and there, in the shadow of the elevated, they found a po liceman on duty. It is true that Dan was not as coherent as lie might have been and that the story he told sounded like a pipe dream; but the police man was undeniably slow of com prehension. At first he smiled good naturedly. .“Aw, youse run along home now,” he said. “I’m onto youse!” “But, look here,” Dan pro tested, “this is serious. I’m not drunk — I’m just excited and tcared. Now listen. There’s a man held prisoner back yonder by a lot of Germans, and I shot one of them and knocked another down—and we’ve got to get him free • • •” “Tut, tut!” said the officer, and then he looked at Dan closely, and then he looked at Kasia, and then he took off his helmet and •cratchcd his head. “See here, now,” he said, finally, “IT call headquarters, if you say so—but If you are stringin’ me • • •” “I’m not stringing you!” Dan eried. “And for heaven’s sake be quick. Every minute we waste 4 • •>> The passersby had begun to stop and stare curiously, and the thought flashed through Dan’s mind that he might collect a posse • • • But the patrolman had made up his mind. “Come along with me,’’ he said, and led the way into the rear room of the corner drugstore and tele phoned to his station for instruc tions. He enlarged somewhat up on the perils of the expedition, as Dan had recounted them, and when he came out of the booth, it was with a distinctly relieved air. “The sergeant says for us to wait here,” ho said, “and he’ll rash some detective up right away.” “But we can’t stay here!” Dan cried. “We’ve got to get hack!” “When the sergeant tells me to do a thing, I do it,” said the offi cer composedly. “ So I’m goin ’ to stay right here.” Dan glared at him for a moment and started to speak his mind, but thought better of it. “Any objection to my waiting in fre >nt of the house?” he asked. The officer pondered a moment. “No, I guess not. Right down this street, you said?” “Yes; 1 didn't notice the num ber, but it’s about half way of the block. I’ll be waiting.” “All right, Skip along.” “I’m going too,” said Kasia. Dan started to object—the dan ger was not over yet—but she was already at the door. “Take the other side of the street,” he called. She nodded, crossed the street, and sped along in the shadow. In a moment they were opposite the house. Nothing apparently had changed there. The front door stood open as they had left it, with the light from the hall streaming out over the steps. The hall, so far as they could see, was emptv. There was no one on the stairs. Dan garni at all this; then he shivered a little; ho did not under stand the emptiness and silence; and he was suffering with t he re action from those crowded mo taents. I don t like it." he said.I “Where’s Pachmannt’’ “Perhaps lie's not there.’’ Dan stood staring a moment longer, then swung round at her. | “I’m going to see," he said. “It j was fooLish to run away like that. I I’m ashamed of myself. Wait for! me here.” He crossed the street and mounted the steps. As he stepped into the hall, a groan arrested him. In a moment, he perceived the man whom he had shot lying, half eon ■cious, against the wall. In the room ijeyond, the other man was ritting up, rubbing his head and •taring stupidly about him. Dan took one look at him, then closed the door and bolted it. “And that’s all right!’’ ho said, and turned to find Kasia at his el bow. He glared at her sternly. “I thought I told you to wait out ride’’’ 31 | “With you in danger! Whatj do you take ine for?-’ Dan took one look into the shin- j ing eyes, then put his arm about her, dragged her to him, and kissed her fiercely. “Refreshment for the heroic warrior on the field of battle,” he explained, before she could pro test. “I don’t think there’s much danger; but just the same you’ll stay wrell in the rear, like a good girl! If Paehmann’s upstairs, we will surely hear from him. lie's certain to be annoyed!” “Can’t we do something for this poor fellow?” she asked, her eyes large with pity for the groaning man. “The police will call an ambu lance,” said Dan. “There’s noth ing we can do.” On the floor be side the wounded man lay his re volver, and Dan stooped and picked it up. “Now, remember, Gunga Din!” he added, “your place is 50 paces right flank rear!” lie started up the stair, cau tiously at first, but more boldly as no sound came from the upper floor. At the stairhead he hesi tated. The upper hall was empty, but just opposite him an open door disclosed a dark room beyond. Still there was no sound, and, after a moment, he stepped to the door and peered inside. “That was where they put my father,” said Kasia. “He wras ly ing on the bed in there.” Before he could stop her, she brushed past him anil sped across the room. Then with a frightened cry, she started back. Dan was by her side in an instant. Look! slit' gasped, and pointed at the floor. Dan saw a slim shape stretched across the inner threshold; then he perceived that it was the body of a man. Pushing Kasia before him, he returned to the outer door, fumbled for the switch and turned it. -Yes, it was the body of a man, lying on its face, its arms thrown above its head. A strange odor greeted him as he bent over it—an odor which made him curiously dizzy—but he managed to turn the body over. “Why, it’s Pachmann!” he cried, and stared down at him with starting eyes. It was not a pleasant sight. The admiral's face was distorted with rage, his lips curled savagely away from his teeth, his eyes were only half closed, his hands were clenched and with it all, he was breathing slowly and regularly, as though asleep. “lie isn’t dead, anyway,” said Dan, and rubbed his eyes, for strange clouds floated before them. “And he doesn’t seem to bo hurt,” he added, looking again. “I wonder what happened to him —he isn’t a pretty sight, is he? And where’s your father?” “He’s not here,” said Kasia, and following her gesture, Dan saw that the bed was empty. Together they hastened back to the hall and looked into the other rooms. They were all empty, i “Well, it beats me!” said Dan, at last, and stared down into the girl’s frightened face. “Your father isn’t here, that’s sure. It looks like he either gave Pach mann his quietus with a solar plex us, or else Pachmann just fell over on his face and went to sleep. Any way, your father seems to have escaped. But where’s the prince? Did they elope together?” “Why didn’t father stop and look for me?” demanded Kasia. And then a light broke over Dan’s face. “Ho did and found you gone. Don't you see,’’ be went on, ex citedly, "it must have been while ! we were fussing with that thick headed cop. And probably, when j he didn't find you, he hurried on home * * *" I Hut Kasia had already startl'd for the stairs. Dan paused for a last look at the ri'cniuhent figure. Suppose the man should die-—suppose something had happened to the l’rince there would be the (Her man empire to he reckoned with, and the reckoning would he a serious one- -serious for himsolf. for Kasia, above all for Vard! ! Very thoughtfully he turned i away, followed Kasia down the j stair, passed along the hall and through the open door. On the step he r>aused and looked up and down • ■ street. The police were not yet in sight. With a little smile, Dan turned ■and polled the door shot. Then he ran down the steps after his companion. “Let’s go the other way,” he said, as she turned toward Ninth avenue. “Wo may as well keep out of this. We can get the sub way just below here.” And in another moment, they had turned the corner. Wherefore it happened that, when the patrolman, in company with three detectives, who had been torn away from a game of, pinocle and who were consequent ly in no very pleasant humor, reached the center of the block, j some minutes later, there was noj one in sight. ' lie said he d wait for us, said the patrolman, helplessly-. The detectives looked about them, but there was no evidence of anything unusual about any of the houses. “Which side of the, street was it on?” one of them asked. “He didn't say,” answered the patrolman. “Well, what did he say?” “Blamed if I know, exactly. He was so worked up—with his eyes stiekin’ out, and his jaw shakin’, and the girl hangin’ on to his arm —but it was something about kid napping and shootin’ a man, and there bein’ another prisoner to rescue * * *’” He stopped, for there was frank incredulity in the three pairs of eyes fastened upon him. “He uas stringin’ you,” said one of the detectives, at last. “Or else lie had a jag,” said an other. “Dope, more likely,” suggested the. third. “Look here, Hennes sey, don’t you ever git us up here again with no such cock-and-bull story! Come on, boys!” They left Hennessey rubbiug his head helplessly and staring at the houses, one after another. He wasn't at all convinced that the strange youth had been “string ing” him—his excitement had too evidently been genuine; but if he was on the square, why had he run away? “Oh, hell!” said Hennessey, finally, and returned to his post at the corner. And it was about that time that the ’phone at the German consul ate range, and a pleasant voice ad vised that a physician be sent at once to the house just off Ninth avenue, as his services were badly needed there. CHAPTER XXX. corxcio OF WAR. When Paris opened her eyes on the morning of Thursday, the 12th of October, it was to rejoice at one of those soft and beautiful days of autumn which make of every house a dungeon to be es caped at the first possible mo ment. Even as early as 9 o’clock, a perceptible tide had set in to ward the Hois de Boulogne, or, rather, innumerable little tides, which converged at the Place de la Concorde and rolled on along the Champs-Elysees in one mighty torrent, Against this torrent, a sturdy and energetic figure fought its way across the square; a figure, carefully arrayed in black morn ing coat and grey trousers, and looking alertly about with a pair of very bright eyes magnified by heavy glasses. The haughtiest of the carriage crowd felt honored by his bow, for it was none other than that great diplomat, Tlieo pliile Delcasse, minister of marine. M. Delcasse was not in the habit of being abroad so early; it was a full hour before his usual time; but he had an appointment to keep which he regarded as most important, so he strode rapidly across the square, entered the handsome building to the north of it, and mounted to the first floor, where, on the corner over looking the square on one side and tin' Rue Royale on the other, he had his office. Early as it was, he found await ing him the man whom he wished to see— a thin wisp of a man, with straggling white beard and a shock of white hair and a face 110 wider than one’s hand, but lighted by the keenest eyes in the world—in a word, Louis Jean Bap tiste Lepine, prefect of police, to I whom full justice has not been done in this story—nor in any other. Mr. Lepine had not found the hour early; to him, all hours were the same, for he was a man who slept only when he found the time, which was often not at all. i “Hood morning, my dear pre fect,” said Delcasse, drawing off his gloves. “I trust 1 have not kept yo.u waiting 1' ’ ‘‘I but just arrived,” Lepine as sured him; ‘‘and I know of no better place to pass one’s idle moments than at this window of yours.” Beyond it stretched the great square, with its obelisk and 6.97 tucked away in a pocket of a neat, but threadbare suit, and drawing a salary of $33,000 a year as a mining engineer before he was 29 years old— probably the largest salary in the world to a man of that age—those are the high lights of the early career of Her bert C. Hoover, food administrator of, the United States government, whose word today touches every breakfast table in this land. No golden spoon was lying around the humble home where "Bert” Hoover was born, in West Branch, Cedar coun ty. la. He was fed with a conservation spoon in his infancy, and he knew what food conservation was in his boyhood. He was born in a simple, unassuming atmosphere. His mother wras a Quaker trencher and his father a blacksmith. As is usual with the society of friends, he was taught the lessons of Christian humility as applied to the daily life, and was told of the dangers of vanity. It is no wonder that Hoover, big man that he is today, still prefers to keep out of the limelight. A few years ago, traveling in hie private car, Mr. Hoover returned to West Branch and visited the little graveyard under the pine trees where his mother and father are buried. Only humble headstones mark their resting place, for it is a part of the Quaker faith to carry simplicity even to the grave. The town has changed since Herb Hoover ran barefoot along the dusty streets and played hide-and-seek with other boys in the moonlight. There are cement sidewalks and electric lights and modern homes. The one story house in which Hoover was bora still is standing. But how did this great man work hia way through college and face life's struggles with not quite $7 in his pock et? The answer is found in the hand writing of his dead mother: “Herbert has an abundance of frugality, energy and industriousness.” In the Cedar county court house at Tipton, la., these Quaker records are on file. Those illuminating records show that what the boy lacked in finance he made tip in character. He lost both his parents when he was . child. All that was left to him and liis little brother and sister was a house and lot worth $1,000. The prop erty was sold and the proceeds used to educate the three. Herbert went to Salem, Ore., to live with an uncle, Dr. H. J. Minthorne, who clothed and hoarded the boy free of charge. In November, 1389, this uncle, who was also the hoy’s guardian, applied to the court back in Iowa for $60 with which young- Herbert might buy a scholarship in a business coliego. “I think,” wrote the guardian, “if he had this scholarship he would make use of it and get full benefit from it.” When Mr. Hoover was IS he was working in a real estate office and supporting himself. He entered De land Stanford university the year that institution started, and was graduated in its first class—in 1S93. He had taken a course in mining engineering. He went to work lor a Nevada mining corporation, and from there to Aus tralia ami in the desert of New Booth Wales, then to China as a mining ex pert. By this lime had had married Miss Don Henry, of Monterey, Cal., ! who became noted in the geology class at Stanford. She ami her husband both showed bravery in the Boxer rebellion. When that trouble was over Mr. Hoover gained concessions from the Chinese government in a large coal area in recognition of his aid in recon structing the railroads. Then began his wonderful career as a eonservat! re promoter, and he became expert chief I of the board of mines of the Chinese government and general manager of the Chinese Engineering and Mining company, his shares in which lie sold in 1901 at a profit of nearly $7)00.000. He now has interests the world over, from California to Burma, from Mexico to China, from Australia to Russia. Hoover was living in Dondon. serv ing in his various capacities, as an en- j gineer and as president and trustee of 1 carious corporations, when the world war was started aiM the kaiser’s hordes devastated Belgium. At the re quest of the American ambassador. Mr. Hoover took the job of feeding Belgium. He not only fed. but clothed both Belgium and northern France. He did the job with a true American spirit I of thoroughness and alacrity, for lie wont into courts and faced officials with an energy that defied diplomacy. “Starvation waits on no red tape,” . was his watchword. “Slickers” Seek Quartermaster. From the New York Tribune. The war department is overrun with “slickers” already, while a conservative estimate of the number of men of draft age still clamoring for commissions in those branches of the department whose work will be in Washington, or at least on this side of the Atlantic, runs well up Into the thousands. Major General Sharpe, the quartermas ter general, is the hardest hit. His bureau seems to promise \he “safest” let of places the army. He told Representa tive Waldow, of New York, that there had already been commissioned about 2, 000 more officers than he knew what to do with, and a flood of applications, near ly ail of which are backed by powerful political influences, continues. The name “slicker” has been pretty generally adopted in Washington to characterized a young man, physically qualified for field services, who use* political Influence to obtain a commis sion, and thereafter enjoys the feminine admiration which goes to khaki, but runs no risk even of submarines, much leas German bullets. The name was stamped on this variety of patriots, or draft dodgers, according to the viewpoint, in a recent publication. Three of a Kind. From the Milwaukee Sentinel. Arthur Shattuck, the brilliant Wiscon sin pianist, has given his entire income. $60,000 annually, for the maintenance of European musicians pauperized by the war. His private yacht he has offered to the American government, His splendid apartments in Paris, which he lias main tained for years, he has turned over to Belgian refugees. He is now living on what he earns from his work as a musi cian. Wright Patterson, a sailor whose par ents live in Chicago, was in Sydney, Aus tralia. 10,000 miles away, when he heard of America’s entrance into the war. He started back immediate!'.' and has en listed at the Great Hakes training station, to do his bit in the great fight for democ racy. O. B. Perry, general manager of iho Yukon gold “company, Canada, ha* just quit a $50,000 a year Job to volunteer In Uncle Sam’s cause. He is now serving as a major in the United States: army at a salary of $3,000. Three of a kind, these men ere. It is the spirit which rules the breasts of such patriots as these that will win tb« war. 444-4444444444 4444 44444 4444 4 4 •4 THE HEART THAT FEELS. 4 4 4 4 Pascal. 4 4 The heart has reasons which the 4 4 reasor. does not know. It is the 4 4 heart that feels God, not the reason. 4 4 The primary truths are not demon- 4 4 titrable, and yet cur knowledge of 4 4 them is none the less certain. Prln- 4 4 clples are felt, propositions axe 4 4 proved. 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Circulars free S’. J. Cheney & Co., Toledo, Ohio. Cottonseed Oil for Canada. The United States food administra tion has completed arrangements with the food controller of Canada, whereby cottonseed oil and its products uni} move into Canada for local Canadian consumption. There will be no re-ex ports of these products. As Canady? raises sufficient hogs for ils owli uses, export licenses for hogs will not ba granted for an indefinite period. The policy of Hie food administration is to see that Canara is supplied with cer tain necessaries from the United states required for feeding their own people, but no more. Regular licenses will be required on all shipments as heretofore, hut no licenses will lie is sued without the approval of the food controller of Canada. May Soon Call on Women. Women and children “for the pres ent” will not ho made subject to coin- - pulsor.v munition work in Germany. The rciclistag committee on national service raised* objections to a proposed project to make women and even youths between fifteen and seventeen subject to compulsory munition work. The war office then stated that “for Hie present*’ it will not he necessary to cull up the women and children. Prof. If. J. Hunt of Raugor, Me., ex plorer, believes land oxisls in the Arc tic 'Ocean. Enterprise and advertising make t!i» biggest pair in Hie deck. I is due to the blend ing of malted barley with whole wheat flour Wheat alone does not possess this rich flavor The wonderfully easy digestion of GrapeNuts is also partly due to die barley for the barley contains a digestive which wheat lacks. “There’s a Reasorf I ^Grape-Nttfs