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GREETINGS THAT TELL MUCH
—
All Have e. Character and to the Initi
ated Are Like an Open
Book.
“Cha.mi cd”—One dunce with lids
t .'re. " ! e.v idwa.'.: talk alnmt (he that- j
me s nf ihe that or <1. It. ['show's
JulfUt.
"i o ('a yen do?"—Mot a (jti '.-lion
a :■ !,dement, i’rihahly a emupauied
! a . die. Tills class works slowly,
I at - are to > oa in (»,<. end.
“ilicl.j-l:' ■ •!" —V.‘ III gi ...{le out! Invi
1 n fI ahy-hhn* eyes. Mu-t
i I e (rt sled.
" ■ it £la.l lo know yon, I'm stjnh'— j
: ' a not sure. hut fl seems host to
■i. la s! season's deli. IMpects to
le . >rrd tttal II is lies: to live up (o
< ectn lions.
Jh, Mr. Stover. I'm ■> > g'ad to know
J l. I've heard," e'e.—hoofliall hero
Muff. Mut t lise skiil and ingenuity to
escape l his type.
Mere nod—I’lissihilifles, tint, oh,
man, you'll have to work. Yale Uec
ord.
VVh.it Johriy Meant.
“Next hoy!" exclaimed the teacher.
"t an you give a simile ti I he word
‘maiden'?"
“Yes, miss," responded .Johnny
Summers. “A maiden Is like elder."
“Very good, Johnny. You see, hoys."
explained the teacher, who was of un
certain age and Irascible disposition.
“Johnny means that a maiden is
sweet."
"Yes,” broke in Johnny, "and grows
sour with old r.ge."
Sparing Their Feeling.
“Why do you call this tiro a 'con
flagration?" asked the crusty city edi
tor. “According to your story the
damage done didn't amount to $j,000.”
“There were fully 10,000 people
present to watch it," said the facetious
reporter.
“Well?"
“I didn't want to make It appear
that they were wasting their valuable
time."-Birmingham Age-Herald.
Best Plan.
“Did you nail the lie?"
“Yes, after I had hammered the
liar."
MlllUflllllinillllfllllllllllllliluiimimniiiiiiiiiititu
EMPEROR FRIEND OF LOWLY
Napoleon III Declared to Have Had
Genuine Regard for the Humbler
of His Subjects.
The friendly feeling of Napoleon III
for the tollers Is dwelt upon by Agnes
Carey in her “An Empress In Exile,”
in tl;e Century magazine, and she
gives as her authority Empress Eu
genie, wife of the Inst of the em
perors. ‘‘Whatever his failings to
ward her hud been," the author says,
“she professed a warm admiration of
bis love of hard work, bis pluek and
bis great kindness of heart and
thoughtfulness for every one. The
emperor genuinely loved the poor and
humble among Ids subjects, with no
I bought of policy. He was too good
and generous for Ids people's under
standing. Had hi1 boon tyrannical
and made use of (hem and trampled
i hem down like some other sovereigns,
they would have behaved better to
ward him, she (Eugenie) said.
“Napoleon was a dreamer and
spent much of his time to the serious
thinking out of schemes for the bene
fit of Ids people, and all mankind.
Ilis life's ambition was to better their |
lot. Tie bad great magnetism, espe
cially Willi the working classes. The
empress charmed every stranger, but
the emperor was really more personal
ly and deeply loved by Iiis entourage
than was bis consort."
What She Preferred.
Of the wit of Miss Marie Tempest,
who Is paying London a visit, many
stories have been told. This Is one of
the latest.
At a party some one mentioned In
Iter presence that a certain girl who
bad refused an earl bad recently mar
ried a very wealthy yoting manufac
turer.
"Oh.” said Miss Tempest, without a
moment's hesitation, “she very wisely
preferred a business plant to a family
tree."
Paradoxical Requiting.
“Why did you turn your late guest
out?"
"Because lie took me In."
“That was a rare feat.”
“Sure, ami it was also well done.”—
Baltimore American.
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' — * • * **•••• >«4M
( THE MARK OF CAIN )
^ ^ Copyright^l917^by jT^Llpplncott Co. ^
At last they heard steps oat
side, and they knew Rowland
Trowbridge was being brought
into his house for the last time.
Judge Hoyt came in first and
kept the two women in the draw
ing-room while the bearers took
their tragic burden up to Mr.
Trowbridge’s own room. Shortly
afterward Doctor Fulton came
down.
“Mr. Trowbridge was mur-j
dered,” he said briefly.
“Stabbed with a dagger. He
has been dead five or six hours
now. Perhaps more.”
“Who did it?” cried Avice,
looking more like an avenging
angel than a grief-stricken girl.
“They have no idea. The coro
ner must try to determine that.”
“The coroner!” exclaimed
MrsSJila.ck in horror. „ . _ _
Ayjce turjied on Tier. “Yes
coroner,’7 she sSldf ‘‘.how else
can we find out who killed Uncle
Rowly, and punish him,—and
kill him!”
Every one stared at Avice.
The policeman in the hall looked
in at the doorway, as her ring
ing tones reached^him. The girl
was greatly excited and her
eyes blazed like stars. But she
stood quietly, and spoke with re
pressed force.
“ What is the first thing to
do?” she said, turning to Doctor
Fulton, and then glancing past
him to the policeman in the door
way.
“Wait, Avice, wait,” put in
Leslie Hoyt; “let us consider a
moment.”
“There is nothing to be con
sidered, Leslie. Uncle is dead.
We must discover who killed
him. We must get the best de
tectives, and we must never rest
until we have brought the villain
to justice.” (
ui course, oi course, Avice,
said Mrs. Black, soothingly,
“but we can’t hurry so, child.”
“We must hurry! It is only
by beginning at once that we can
find clues and things. Delay
means opportunity for the crimi
nal to escape!”
Hoyt and Doctor Fulton
looked at the girl in amazement.
Where had she learned these
terms that fell so readily from
her tongue?
“She is right,” said Judge
II»yt, sadly. “There must be
no unnecessary Ijelay in these
matters. But the law moves
slowly, at best. Everything pos
sible wil Ibe done, Avice; you
may rest assured of that. The
coroner is upstairs now, and
when he comes down he will
want to talk with you. You
won’t object.”
“Indeed, no. I want to see
him. Why, on^y think, I know
nothing,—nothing, as yet, as to
how Uncle Rowly met his
death!”
CHAPTER II.
Who Conld Have Done It?
Coroner Berg came down
stairs and joined the group in the
drawing-room. He was a brist
ling, fussy little man, with a de
cided sense of his own import
ance and evidently inclined to
make much of his office. Ilis
sparse, sandy hair stood out
straight from his head, and his
light blue eyes darted from one
to another of the impatient peo
ple awaiting his report,
i “Sad ease,” he said, wringing
his hands; “very sad case. Fine
man like that, struck down in the
! prime of life. Awful!”
; “We know that,” and Avice
: looked annoyed at what she
I thought intrusive sympathy.
| “But who did it? What have
i you found out?”
Very little, Miss, answered
Berg. “Your uncle was killed
by a dagger thrust, while up in
Van Cortlandt Park woods. His
body was found in a lonely spot
up there, and there is no trace of
the murderer, The police were
informed of the murder by tele
phone, which is a mighty queer
performance if you ask me!
They say a Dago woman called
up headquarters and told the
story.”
“Extraordinary!” said Hoyt;
“an Italian?”
“Yes, sir; they say she sound
ed like one, anyhow.”
“And a dagger or stiletto was
used,” said Doctor Fulton,
thoughtfully; “that looks like
Italian work. Had your uncle
any Italian enemies, Miss Trow
bridge?”
“Not that I know of,” and
Avice spoke a little impatiently;
“but uncle had no enemies that
2
I know of. At least, none who
would kill him.”
“He had enemies, thenl”
spoke up the coroner, alertly.
“Uncle Rowly was not^ an
easy-going man. He had many
acquaintances with whom he
was not on terms of friendship.
But I’m sure none of his quar
rels were grave enough to lead
to this.”
“But somebody committed the
crime, Miss Trowbridge, and
who so likely as a known enemy!
Tell me any of your uncle’s un
friendly acquaintances.”
“Positively no one, Mr. Berg,
who could be in the least sus
pected. I’m thinking of such
men as Judge Greer, who holds
‘political views opposed to those
St my uncle. .And Professor
Meredith, whojs an enthusiastic
naturalist, but who disagrees
with my uncle in some o^\their
classifications. As you sec,'these
are not sufficient grounds for
killing a man.”
“Of course, not,” said Hoyt.
“I know these men, and their
relations with Mr. Trowbridge
were really friendly, though dif
fering opinions frequently led
to quarrels. Mr. Trowbridge
was quick-tempered and often
said sh#irp things, which he for
got as quickly as he uttered
them.”
“Yes, he did,” corroborated
Avice. “Why, he sometimes
scolded me, and soon after was
sunny and sweet again. No, I’m
sure Uncle Rowland had no real
enemies, surely none that would
seek his death. And the fact
that an Ttalian woman gave the
message proves to my mind that
he was struck down by some
horrid Italian society,—Black
Hand, or whatever they call it.”
“That remains to be seen,”
said Berg, with an air of import
ance. “I shall conduct an in
quest tomorrow morning. It is
too late to get at it tonight, and
too, 1 want to collect a little more
evidence.”
‘ Where do yon get evidence,
Mr. Berg,” asked Avice, eager
interest and curiosity shining in
her brown eyes.
‘‘Wherever I may pick it up.
I must question the police fur
ther and I must endeavor to
trace that telephone call, though
that is a hard matter usually.
Then, also, I must question all
members of this household. As
to his habits, I mean, and his
whereabouts today. He left home
this morning, as usual?”
‘‘Quite as usual,” broke in
Mrs. Black, before Avice could
reply. ‘‘I was probably the one
who saw him last as he depart
ed. I went to the door with him,
and he,—he kissed me good-by.”
Mrs. Black's handkerchief was
pressed into service, but she went
on, clearly: ‘‘we were to have
been married next month. Our
engagement had been an
nounced.”
‘‘And you heard nothing from
Mr. Trowbridge during the
day ?’ ’
“No,” said Avice, taking up
the tale again; ‘‘uncle told me
before he left he would be home
by 5, as I was to help him with
his work. He is a naturalist,
out of office hours, and I assist
with his cataloguing. Then,
when he didn’t come at 5, I was
worried, and I kept on being
worried until—until—” and
here the girl broke down and
buried her l'aee again in the sofa
pillows.
“And you weren't worried?”
| asked Coroner Berg, turning his
pale bliu eyes cn the house
keeper.
No, and Mrs. Black s voice
was cool and composed; ‘‘I sup
posed he was merely detained by
some business matter. I had no
reason to fear any harm had
come to him.”
“When did you last see him?”
went on the coroner, turning to
| Judge Hoyt.
‘‘Let me see; it was—yes, it
was last Friday. I was at his
office consulting with him about
some business, and promised to
report today. But as I was
called to Philadelphia today on
an important matter, 1 wrote him
that I would come here to his
house to see him this evening,
and give him the report he
wanted.”
‘‘And you went to Philadelphia
j today?”
‘‘Yes, I left there at 3 and
reached New York at 5. I in
tended coming here this even
ing, but when Miss Trowbridge
[ telephoned me soon after 6, I
came right up at once.”
“Well, I think I’ll go now, for
I may dig op something of im
portance at the police station,
and I’ll be here tomorrow for
the inquest at 10 or there
abouts.”
As Coroner Berg left, the men
from the undertaker’s arrived,
and the trying session with them
had to be gone through.
“But I can’t make arrange
ments about the funsral
now,” said poor Avice, breaking
■down again. “Why, I can’t even
realize Uncle Rowly is dead,
and-”
“Never mind, my dear,” said
Mrs. Black, “don’t try to. Go
to your room now, and leave the
funeral matters to me. I will
arrange everything, and Judge
Hoyt will assist me with his ad
vice.”
“Indeed you won’t,” said
Avice, spiritedly. “I suppose I
am still uncle’s niece. And I
prefer to be consulted about the
last rites for him.”
“Then stay by all means,” and
Mrs. Black’s voice was honey
sweet. “I only meant to save
you a harrowing experience.”
She turned tp the suave young
man who had with him a book
of pictured caskets, and was'soon
(Te^pi? Interested in the choice
of shape, style and number of
handles that seemed to her most
desirable.
Avice looked at her with aver
sion. It seemed to the girl al
most ghoulish to show such ab
sorption in a question of the
quality of black cloth, or the let
tering on the name-plate.
“But it must be decided,” said
Mrs. Black. “Of course, we
want the best of everything, and
it is the last honor we can pay
to dear Mr. Trowbridge. You
should be very thankful, Avice,
that you have me here to assist
and advise you. You are too
young and inexperienced to at
tend to these matters. Isn’t that
so, Judge Hoyt?”
“It seems so to me, Mrs. Black.
These selections must be made,
and surely you are showing good
taste and judgment.”
Very well, returned Avice.
“Go on, and get whatever you
like. As for me, I’m far more
concerned in hunting down my
uncle’s murderer. And I doubt
if that coroner man will do it.
He’s a perfect lump! He’ll never
find out anything!
“Why, Avice,'’ remonstrated
Hoyt, “what could we find out
tonight? It is a mysterious af
fair ,and as we here know noth
ing of the crime, how could Mr.
Berg discover anything from
us?”
“But he has no brains, no in
telligence, no ingenuity!”
“Coroners rarely have. It is
their province only to question
and learn the circumstances.
‘Sleuthing’ is what you have in
mind ,and that must be done by
detectives.”
“I know it,” cried Avice, eag
erly; “that’s what I said at
first. Oh, Leslie, won’t you get
the very best detectives there are
and put them on the case at
once ? ’ ’
“Wait a moment, Avice,” said
Mrs. Black, coldly. “I am not
sure you are in absolute author
ity here. I have something to
say in the decisions.”
“But surely, Mrs. Black, you
want to spare no pains and no
expense to learn who killed
Uncle Rowly!”
xou miK very gumy 01 ex
pense, my dear Avice. Until
your uncle’s will is read, how do
you know who will be in a posi
tion to bear these expenses you
are so ready to incur?”
Aviee looked at the older wom
an with scorn. “I don’t quite
follow you,” she said, slowly;
“but surely, whoever inherits my
uncle’s fortune, owes first the
duty of bringing his murderer
to justice!”
Leslie Hoyt looked very grave.
“As Mr. Trowbridge’s lawyer,”
he said, “I know the contents of
the will. It will be read after
the funeral. Until then, 1 am
not at liberty to disclose it. I
‘ must go now, as I have some in
vestigations to make myself. By
the way, Aviee, l brought home
a Philadelphia afternoon paper,
and it contains a glowing ac
count of the debfit of your
friend, Rosalie Banks. But, per
haps, you don’t care to see it,
now?”
“Yes, leave it,” said Avice,
apathetically; “I am fond of
Rosalie and I’d like to look it
over.”
Hoyt found the paper where
he had left it on the hall table,
and gave it to her, and then with
a sympathetic, but unobtrusive
pressure of her hand, the lawyer
went away and the doctor also.
“May I look at that Phila
delphia paper a moment?” asked
Mrs. Black, “I want to see an
advertisement. ” ^
X
“Certainly, here it is,” and
Avice passed it over. “Just
think of Rosalie having her com
ing-out party just now while I’m
in such sadness. We were at
school together, and though
younger than I, she was always
one of my favorites.”
“You didn’t care to go to the
party?” ♦
“No it was yesterday, and I
had that luncheon engagement
here, you know. And oh, Elea
nor, isn’t it fortunate I am here
and not in Philadelphia!”
“Why? You can’t do any
thing.”
“I know it. But it would have
been awful to be away making
merry when uncle was—was
breathing his last! Who do you
suppose did it?”
“Some highway robber, of
course. I always told your uncle
he ought not to go off ,in those
lonely woods all by himself. He
ran a risk every time. And now
the tragedy lias occurred.
“It doesn’t seem like a high
way robber to use a dagger. They
always have a club or a—-what
do the call it* a blackjack.”
“You seem to know a loTiibout
such things, Aviee^ Welb I’m
going To'ltty room, and you’d
better do the same. We’ve a
hard day before us tomorrow. I
think it’s dreadful to have an in
quest here. I thought they al
ways held them in the court-room
or some such place.”
‘ ‘ They do, sometimes. In
quests are informal affairs. The
coroner just asks anybody, hit
or miss, anything he can think
of. That’s why I wish we had
a cleverer coroner than tfiat Berg
person. I can’t bear him.”
“I don’t care what he’s like
if he’ll only get the scene over.
Shall we have to be present?”
‘“Gracious! You couldn’t
keep me away. I want to hear
every word and see if there’s any
clue to the truth.”
The two went up to their
rooms, but neither could sleep.
Aviee sat in an easy chair by her
open window, wondering and
pandering as to who could have
been the criminal. Mrs. Black,
on the other hand, thought only
of herself and her own future.
She was a very beautiful wom
an, with finely cut features and
raven black hair, which she wore
in glossy smooth waves partly
over her small ears. Her eyes
were large and black and her
mouth was scarlet and finely
curved. She was of Italian par
entage, though born in America.
Her husband had been a New
York lawyer, but dying, left her
in greatly straitened circum
stances and she had gladly ac
cepted the position of house
keeped in the Trowbridge home.
At first, she had rejected the ad
vances of Rowland Trowbridge,
thinking she preferred a younger
and gayer man. But the kind
ness and generosity of her em
ployer finally won her heart, or
her judgment, and she had prom
ised to marry him. It is quite
certain, however, that Eleanor
; Black would never have come to
this decision, had it not been for
Rowland Trowbridge’s wealth.
Late into the night, Avice sat
thinking. It seemed to her that
she must by some means ferret
out the facts of the case,—must
find the dastardly villain who
killed her uncle and let justice
mete out his punishment. But
where to turn for knowledge, she
had no idea.
Jtier minu tunica to wnat ivir.
Berg had said about enemies. It
couldn’t be possible that either
i of the men she had mentioned
1 could be implicated, but
I mightn’t there be some one else!
’ Perhaps some one she had never
l heard of. Then the impulse
; seized her to go down to her
■uncle’s library and look over his
| recent letters. She might learn
| something of importance. Not
for a moment did she hesitate to
do this, for she knew she was the
principal heir to his fortune, and
the right to the house and its con
; tents was practically hers.
And her motives were of the
i best and purest. All she desired
! was to get some hint, some clue,
as to which way to look for a
possible suspect.
Walking lightly, though tak
ing no especial precautions of si
lence, she went slowly down
stairs, and reached the door of
! the library. From the hall, as
■ she stood at tlip portiere, she
| heard some one talking inside the
j room. Listening intently she rec
ognized the voice of Eleanor
Black at the telephone.
A Variant.
Prom the Boston Transcript.
Friend—Well, how do you think tha
election will go?
Actor—It Is on the knees of the gods.
Friend (gallant to suffragists) — Say,
rather. It Is on the laps of our goddesses.
Owing to a strike of municipal
workers at Chemnitz the doctors and
dgpiists have gone on counter strlk%
■ the London Time% 1
