| 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 <rirele
of statues, it pavilions and balus
I trades; beautiful now, and peace
| fill, but peopled with ghastly
memories — for it was here the
revolution set up it guillotine, and
| it was here that some 4,000 men
and women, high and low, looked
! their last upon this earth, mounted
the scaffold anil passed under the
(knife. Surely, if any spot on earth
l be haunted, it is this!
Something of this, perhaps, was
J in the minds of these two men, as
they stood for a moment looking
down into the square, for their
faces were very thoughtful; then
Delcasse’s eyes travelled from one
I to another of the heroic figures
i representing the great towns of
! France—Lyons, Marseilles, Brest,
Rouen, Bordeaux, Nantes, Lille—•
and came to rest upon the last one,
Strasbourg, hung with black and
piled with morning garlands, in :
memory of the lost Alsace. Every !
morning, before he turned to the
day’s work, M. Delcasse, standing
at this window, gazed at that
statue, while he registered anew
the vow that hose garlands should
one day he replaced by wreaths of
victory! That vow was his orison.
His lips moved silently as he
made it now, then he turned to his
desk.
“Be seated, my dear Lepine,”
he said. “I have much to discuss
with you, as you may guess. First
about La Liberte. My board of in
quiry will be ready to report by
Saturday. It has decided that the
explosion was caused by the spon
taneous combustion of the ‘B’
powder, as was the case with the
Jena.”
“That theory will do as well as
any other,” said Lepine, curtly.
“But you and I know that it is
not the true one.”
Delcasse looked at him quickly.
“Have you any news?” he
asked.
“None,” answered Lepine, with
a frown. “The man we sought
has vanished as completely as
though the earth had swallowed
him. T found no'trace of him since
he left the office of the Messrs.
Cook, with two passages for
America in his pocket. I cannot
understand it.”
“Have the tickets been re
turned ? ’ ’
“They have not been returned,
and the Messrs. Cook, making in
quiry at my suggestion, have a re
port from the steamship company
that they have not been used.”
Delcasse turned this over in his
mind.
“Perhaps the man and his
daughter have met with some ac
cident.”
“We should have heard of it,”
Lepine objected. “I have scru
tinized every report—viewed ev
ery body which at all resembled
him.”
“Then,” said Delcasee, “he has
been suppressed, as one who knew
too much.”
“My own opinion is,” said the
prefect,” that he has sought
refuge in Germany, until he can
prepare for another demonstra
tion against France.”
The minister moved uneasily in
his chair.
“I have thought of that,” he
said, “and I am doing everything
I can to render such an attempt
imnossible—but it is a hard task—
one can never be sure. There is
another thing I wished to ask you.
Where is Crochard?”
“I do not know, sir. I have not
seen him since that morning at
Toulon when we parted outside
the Hotel du Nord.”
“Then lie, too, has disap
peared ?''
“Yes, sir, completely.”
“Has it never occurred to you,
Lepine, to connect these two dis
appearances?”
“Yes, 1 did connect them. You
will remember in the note he left
for me he stated that he hoped
soon to have some good news for
us. But when more than two
weeks elapse and we hear nothing,
I am forced to conclude that he,
too. has been baffled.”
“Yes, it was for me a hope, also
—almost my only one,” said Del
casse. “I did not believe that he
could fail. And if he has failed,
do you know what it means for
France. Lepine ? It means destruc
tion. Oh, I have spent sleepless
nights, I have racked my brain t
Germany’s attitude is that of a
nation which desires war and
which is ready to provoke it. You
know, of course, how strained the
situation is?”
“About Morocco?”
“Yes. It has come to this:
France and Germany are like two
i duellists, face to face, sword in
hand. Either they must fight, or
one must retreat—and with dis
honor!”
“France cannot retreat,” mur
mured Lepine.
(Continued Next Week.)
A Sitlville Reflection.
If Satin'a In. the whirlwind
And going good and prime.
Can’t blame him 'cauee he's having
"A devil of a ttanel"
—Atlanta Constitution.
Hoover Started With $6.97.
From the Kansas City Star.
Starting out in business iife with
>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. Truths may l>e at-ove 4
4 reason, and yet not contrary to 4
4 reason. 4
tllUllllllltlllHIIIIlIlt
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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
