COPYRIGHT BY
MINTON,BAlCH,l CO. WN.V. SCRVICl'
CHAPPTER I
I Attend a Funeral.
IF MY cousin, Geoffrey Itohun,
had had to work for his living,
he would, as a painter of portraits.
Shave made his mark, but work
within doors he would not, and
! since he cared nothing at all for
> riches or fame, he painted old
buildings and landscapes and lazy
streams, and though I think that
he painted these very well, the pub
lic would not have them, but clam
ored for portraits instead.
Whether Geoffrey was right or
wrong, I cannot pretend to say, but
I must confess that I was glad of
his choice, for since my parents’
death I had lived with him, and the
work he preferred made us free of
the countryside. Indeed, of the four
"We’re Out to Fight These Men."
years preceding the matters which
I am to tell we had not spent six
months at his London house, but
had traveled winter and summer,
at home and abroad. We visited
many places and saw all manner of
beauties that few men see.
Of such was my education, after
I left my school, and though I might
have done better to go to Oxford
Instead, I learned to speak Ger
man and French with a pretty good
grace and to share with the peas
ants of Europe their several hopes
and fears.
I was In as fine a condition as a
man of two-and-twenty may be, and
my only care was the knowledge
that very soon now the agreeable
life I was leading must come to an
end. This by my cousin’s decree, for
Geoffrey was trustee of my fortune,
and though he was only some
twelve years older than I, I had
to a great extent to do as he said.
And at twenty-three, he declared, I
must take to work: “and from
then,” said he, "till you’re thirty
your allowance will be exactly as
much as you earn. Earn five pounds
a week, and I’ll give you another
five. You’ve got to make good.”
I was brooding on this one morn
ing—for my birthday was the first
of October, and .Tune was very near
out—when I heard the sound of
voices a little way oft.
This was unusual enough, for,
save for the birds and beasts, an
Austrian forest at dawn is a lone
ly place; but what was stranger
still was that the voices were Eng
lish, and coarse at that.
Geoffrey was painting a vista two
furlongs away, and Barley, his man,
was half a mile off with the Rolls.
I made my way quietly forward to
see and hear what I could.
Then a spout of oaths startled
the silence, and two men were curs
ing each other.
A third man spoke.
“Suppose you go on now.”
“But he'll do me in in a minute,
layin’ about with that pick.”
“The world will be the cleaner,”
ft said the other, and stifled a yawn,
f “Till then, get on with your work,
I say, get on.”
His voice was deadly.
More curious than ever, I lay
down on the ground and, wriggling
cautiously forward into the bushes
which screened the men from my
view.
I shall never forget the scene.
Directly below me, in the midst
of a sparkling dell, were five grown
(men. Two, with pickaxe and shovel,
were digging a hasty grave; the
sods had been piled to one side,
but a third man was taking the
earth and casting it Into a brook.
A fourth man was leaniDg against
the trunk of a tree, smoking a cig
arette. And the fifth lay dead be
side him.
This spectacle shocked me so
much that a moment or two went
by before I had collected my wits:
then I knew that the man had been
murdered, for his gay, green, belt
ed smock was heavily stained with
blood.
As the porter came back from the
brook—
“That’s enough earth away, Dew
drop.” Raid the man who had spo
ken last. “Take another stroll in the
country and see there’s nobody up."
The man who was shoveling
stopped and straightened his back.
‘‘Lerame do that. Pharaoh. I’m
sick of this—spade.”
The man addressed as Pharaoh
wrinkled his brow.
“I’ve never liked you,” he said.
“And when you question my orders,
I like you less There's food for
thought there. Itush. . . .”
An Instant later Dewdrop was out
of sight.
That I was In some danger was
perfectly clear. I was, however, de
termined not to withdraw, for the
corpse cried out for vengeance.
I decided to try and “pick up’’
Dewdrop without delay.
Without more ado I therefore
abandoned my covert and almost at
once I heard the fellow stumble
over the root of some tree and two
minutes later I was afoot behind
him.
I had hoped that after a casual
survey the man would return to
the dell, for then I could reach
my cousin and tell him my news.
While he was fetching Barley, I
could then go hack to my covert to
keep an eye on the rogues. But
Dewdrop stayed on.
He was passing the covert In
which I had lain, when he stopped
and peered at the bushes and then
glanced round.
Satisfied that no one was look
ing, he went on his hands and
knees, to pluck from the heart of
the bushes a paper some four inches
long.
I shall never forget that moment
—I think that my heart stood still:
for, as my hand flew to my pocket,
I knew that paper was ... a shoe
maker’s bill, which had followed
me out from London . . . complete
with its envelope bearing my name
and address—the address of the inn
at which Geoffrey and 1 were lodg
ing some five miles off.
I saw Dewdrop finger the letter
and find it dry. Then he looked
from his find to the spot at which
it had lain. Then he lay down and
drew himself forward, parting the
bushes before him exactly as I
had done. Plainly, the man was no
fool. He wished to be sure how
much John Spencer had seen—John
Spencer, of The Three Kings, Lass.
The next moment he was up and
was whipping hack to the dell.
The murder was out.
• ••••••
As we hurried back to the Rolls.
I told my cousin my tale, and
though he made no comment, I saw
that he was perturbed.
Arrived at the car, I saw him
take out a pistol and slip It into
his coat
Ten fninutes later we slid into the
yard of the inn at Lass.
As we stepped out, my cousin
turned to his man.
“Put her away,” he said. “Then
take the other pistol and come to
our rooms.”
As we entered the inn, I heard
him order our breakfast to be served
in a quarter of an hour.
My cousin strolled to the bay and
stood looking out.
“When Barley comes up,” he said,
“I want you to tell your story over
again.”
I was glad of his words, for Bar
ley was a very good man and true
as steel.
The door was opened and Burley
came into the room.
My cousin spoke over his shoul
der.
“Mr. Spencer has had an adven
ture. I want you to hear It, Bar
ley, so he’s going to tell it again.”
When I had done—
“Well, Barley," said my cousin,
"what do you think?"
“It’s a pity about that letter, sir,
bearing the name and address.”
“A very great pity,” said Geof
frey. “Anything else?"
“If Mr. Spencer, sir, could de
scribe the men ... I’d like to hear
what they look like, ‘Dewdrop’ is a
nickname, for sure. I tnke it he's
got a drop on the end of his nose."
"That’s right,” said I. “I marked
it. He's a little dark man, very wiry.
I think he's a Jew. Pharaoh Is tall
and slight—much better class than
the others and well turned out. His
hair is fair, and he has rather pro
truding eyes. Rush looks an awful
blackguard. A very low forehead,
and his ears stick out from his
head. Very dark he is, and a scat
runs down from the edge of his
mouth to his chin. The fourth man
looked the best of the lot. He was
very broad and had rather an open
face; rough, you know, but cheer
ful. Not very tall, but I’d say he
was very strong.”
"Good," said Geoffrey. He turned
to Barley. "And now come and take
my place. I mean, If they should
mean busines<. . . .”
As Barley stepped to the window,
he flung himself into a chair and
lighted a cigarette.
"These things happen,” he said.
"It wasn't your fault, ray dear John,
but if we don’t look out, It may be
your great misfortune. In plain
words, as you probably know, you
stand In danger of death. You
viewed at your leisure certain ter
rible rites which no one was meant
to see.”
“I can't help that," said I. "I’m
sorry about that letter, but I’m not
going to hold my tongue. They’d
murdered that poor devil and they
damned well ought to be hung."
"I quite agree,” said Geoffrey.
"They must he brought to justice —
I’m Inclined to think Kate sent you
wi*h that Intent. But Kate works
in a curious way, and at the pres
ent moment I’m thinking much less
of their lives than I’m thinking
of yours.”
“Yes, I see that,” said 1.
"If we were at home,” said Geof
frey, “we should go straight to
Scotland Yard. They’d give you
armed protection and turn out the
Klying Squad. But give those four
reason to think that you’ve been
to the police, and they'll strike out
of hand."
“But how can we bring them
to justice unless we go to the
police?"
“Pve no Idea,” said my cousin.
“But we’ve got to sit tight for the
moment—extremely tight.”
“Meanwhile they’ll clear out of
the country."
"No, they won’t," said Geoffrey,
"I’ll tell you why. Those four didn’t
come out here to do In somebody’s
servant—for that’s who their vic
tim was. What he had was a tunic,
and some of the old houses here
still dress their people like that.
“He was wearing livery. Very
well. Those four are here on some
job, and the murdered man got In
their way. He may have surprised
them—as you did: and so they Just
bumped him off. But, unless I’m
mistaken, the job remains to be
done. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have
buried him.
“And now," said GeoiTrey, rls
Ing, "I’ll lay before you the card
that I’ve up my sleeve.
"I was staying with the Lyve
dens in Hampshire a few years
back. It was a Goodwood party,
and the jewels in the house were
worth a lot. Well, they were stolen
all right. Barley wasn't with me.
but he’ll remember ttie case.”
“The Bell Hammer murders, sir?’’
“Exactly. Three servants and a
policeman were murdered by the
fellows who took those jewels. They
could have laid them out and tied
them up: but they preferred to
kill them, because then they knew
where they were.
“They never got the thieves, but
Anthony Lyveden told me as much
as be knew: and amongst other
things he told me that the moment
they heard of the matter the police
knew who’d done the Job. Only
one man, they said, was ruthless
and during enough to go such
lengths. And the man was known
ns ‘Pharaoh.’
“Now, thnt’s all I know. This
may or may not be the man. But
if it Is—well, from what I’ve Just
told you, you’ll gather that he
doesn’t like witnesses.”
To my great dismay my cousin
then announced that we must be
gone from the Inn as soon as we
could.
“We’re out to tight these men.
Well, the tirst thing to do Is to
vanish, for until we are out of their
ken, we caLnot attack, but must
waste our time taking precautions
against an attempt on your life.
More. At the moment not one of
those wallahs knows you by sight,
and that’s a card which must not
be thrown away. And now you go
out and lose yourself In the town.
Barley and 1 will pack, and I’ll
pick you up at nine In front of St.
Jacques'. I shall give out we’re go
ing to Salzburg, and Barley can go
to the station and point the lie.”
“To Annubel," said my cousin. “I
liked the look of the vtltnge and I’m
sure they’ll do us proud at The
Reaping Hook. And now you pop
ofT, my son. Kvery minute Is pre
clous, as you must see.”
I made my way out of the Inn,
and when some servant or other
ran after me, letter In hand, l took
the missive from him as a man
in a dream. I did not open the
letter—I had no need: for one
thing. It was already open, and. for
another, 1 knew what the envelope
held. And thnt was a shoemaker's
bill.
That 1 now felt far from easy. 1
frankly confess. I could not get
away from the fact that the en
emies that 1 had made were no or
dinary men.
First, they had frustrated the
watch we had kept: then, they had
gained their end, which wns, of
course, to get to know me by sight
—for someone, no doubt, was In
waiting, to see me come out of the
Inn and, lastly, they had Informed
me In unmistakable terms that they
were fully aware that I had seen
them at work. All this. I may say.
In a little more than an hour.
It suddenly came to my mind that
as like as not I now was being fol
lowed by whoever It was that had
watched me come out of the Inn. At
once I determined to see If this
was the case and If It was, to en
deavor to turn the tables on the
man who was so engaged.
I made my way out of the mar
ket and Into an alley too narrow
for carts to use.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
BEGIN
the swiftest
adventure
of your life
RIGHT HERE
with
DORNFORD YATES
to the tune of
breathless,
exciting
STORM MUSIC
Storm Music is Domford Yates at his dashing, riotous best. Hidden
in a secret vault of Castle Yorick is a fabulous fortune, and only
the beautiful Helena, mistress of the castle, knows its whereabouts.
But a gang of notorious crim
inals hears of it.
When young John Spencer, out
for a forest stroll, hears voices,
he investigates, finds murder has
been done—by the same brigands
who are threatening the young
countess. They discover he knows
their deed. And from then on,
John and Helena and the reader
are plunged into a series of zest
ful adventures that alternately
thrill, mystify and enchant them.
The most exciting story since
“The Prisoner of Zenda!”
•
Begin STORM MUSIC now I
Read it every week as it ap
pears serially in this paperl
Mary Pines for
Her Pines
(A Christmas Story)
By Luella B. Lyons
I
ARY MINTKlt left her home
from south of the Mason
Dlxon line to marry Jack
Howard. That’s how she happened
to be hating her new home In the
North—lintlng the snow and cold
and the fireworks site knew she was
missing down home that Christmas
day. Gazing out of the window all
she could see were pine trees from
four Inches to sixty feet in height.
Cedars! IMnes! Spruces! She
hated the words, even.
“How about a Christmas tree In
the house, honey? Maybe that
would help cheer you, do you sup
pose? I know you’re eating your
heart out with lonesomeness for
home this, your first Christmas
away,” Jack offered, but Mary
spurned his sympathy.
“A tree. A tree, did you say?
Ha ha,” she laughed bitterly, “go
out there and on up the Ridge and
look at those trees there by the
hundreds and thousands. Imnglne
they are all Chrlshnus trees if you
like.” Jack gave up trying to pla
cate her but lie understood—she
was at that stage of homesickness.
About noon there came a phone
call from their nearest neighbor,
Milt Spears. Mis wife was In the
city hospital, 40 miles away, and
he had promised to visit her there,
taking the two youngsters, but
about an hour ago Milt had sprained
an ankle and now—would Mary and
Jack take the kids and go In his
place?
What difference did It make If It
was nearly nightfall when the pair
and the two youngsters reached
They Reached Ann Spear's Hospi
tal Room and Made Explanations.
Aon Spear’s hospital room and made
the explanations and witnessed the
relief that was so evident on the
anxious wife’s face.
“But where did you find such a
novel tree arrangement, Mrs. How
ard?” Ann’s doctor wanted to know
the moment he sighted the midget
Chrlutmas tree Mary had fixed up
at a moment’s notice. “Why, they
are the niftiest things I’ve ever
seen yet, and I’d like to buy a
dozen of them.”
A strip of painted tin that was
bent to hang over the head of a
bed Into the shape of a shelf or
hracaet formed the foundation. A
tiny cedar seedling about eight
f nr nos high formed the tree. Mary
had 8trl|>ed a wealth of tube roses
she had been growing, to tie the
blossoms all over that midget vil
lage tree. Fitting Into a slot on
that little tin bracket. It smiled Its
blessing upon the gathering.
Any Tuletide you might stop bj
the Howard Midget Christmas Tree
Farlb to find Mary and Jack get
ting a bit of rest from their labors,
mother glorious selling campaign
ovef for another year.
• Western Newspaper Union.
Mrs. Durkee’s
Christmas (jander
By Martha B. Thomas
MRS. DURKEE had a gan
der, a fine strong bird with
fine strong wings. Wher
ever Mrs. Durkee went the gander
went, too.
Some years ago a goose egg had
been given to Mrs. Durkee. It was
a very large egg and ready to hatch,
but a fox had killed the mother
goose. It should make, when
hatched and grown up, a fine
Christmas dinner 1 Just as Mrs.
Durkee prepared a nest for It, the
shell cracked and out popped a
head with very surprised eyes.
From that mo
ment the gos
ling and Mrs.
Durkee became
friends. She no
more thought of
him In terms of
roasting than
she would think
of a neighbor In
that unkind
manner.
The widow
lived alone and
as the gander
grew to man
hood (so to
speak), she depended more ana
more on him. Sometimes at night
she would rouse him and he would
untuck his head from his wing and
escort her forth under a wintry
moon.
And now, at the Christmas sea
son, Gander was in full plumage
and of a stern temper.
Christmas eve she sat alone by
her kitchen fire, and there came a
knock at the door. A man stood
there and before she could speak
pushed his way In. Seeing no one
about, he ordered her to bring him
bread and cofTee and meat She
brought the man what he asked,
and when he had eaten he said,
“Now, give me all your money and
I’ll go with no trouble.’’
“No," said Mrs. Durkee, "I will
not!"
Out came his list and she Just
escaped a hard cuff on the head.
She was angry enough to fight but
Instead went to her pantry. “I
keep money In a Jug here,” she said
and Jingled some coins. At the
same time she softly raised the
window and whistled.
“Hey come on with cash!
I’m In a hurry!"
The man shoved out his foot as If
to kick him. In a moment, hiss
ing and nipping, the great bird
seemed to surround the man with
heavy beating wings. The harder
the unwelcome guest tried to es
cape the harder he was beaten
back. At last, crouching nnd fend
ing off the blows, he fled through
the door . . scattering coins all
the way. The wad of bills had
merely been a piece of make-be
lieve.
The door slammed and the lonely
widow sat down In a chair and
laughed nnd laughed nnd laughed.
The gander stood beside her. look
ing dignified nnd preening his ruf
fled feathers.
“I’d rather have you for a friend,"
cried Mrs. Durkee, “than all the
roast ducks, turkeys nnd geese In
the world. Merry Christmas . . . 1
and I’ll give you some fresh lettuce
this minute."
The gander’s bright eyes roved
about the room, and he followed
Mrs. Durkee Into the pantry.
© Western Nowapapor Union.
•‘FRESH EGGS” MAY
MEAN BETTER EGGS
Poultrymen, Egg Dealers
Have Improved Quality.
By R. B. Cray, Extension Specialist, Ohio
State University.—WNU Service.
The last live years have witnessed
a vast improvement In the egg mar
keting facilities in many sections.
There is now some encouragement
for the farmers to produce high
quality eggs, because they do not
have to take the same price for
them as the man who keeps a mon
grel flock under filthy conditions
and markets his eggs at infrequent
intervals.
The Improvements In the methods
of egg marketing have followed
(Uany different lines, bat In every
instance It Is based upon two prin
ciples: (1) paying tbe farmers on
the basis of the quality of eggs
delivered, and (2) selling egga on a
graded basis which pays a premium
for that particular grade of egga.
It Is beyond the power of man
to improve the quality of a fresh
egg, but It Is euUrely within his
power, through feeding and man
agement, to produce a fine quality
egg. It Is also within his power
greatly to Improve grading and
marketing practices, so as to re
tain the fresh egg quality until the
egg reaches the consumer.
Some suggestions for producing
quality eggs are: remove all roost
ers from the laying flock, keep the
laying house clean, gather the egga
four times a day, place them Im
mediately In a cool room, usually
the cellar, grade the eggs accord
ing to size and color, and market
them twice a week.
Hens Confined Lay Well
as Those Out on Range
Hens kept In confinement and
properly fed will lay as many eggs
and tend to lay larger eggs than
birds of the same age on limited
range. These conclusions are the
outcome of experiments conducted
since 1028 at the Animal Husbandry
Experiment farm at Beltsvllle, Md.
Birds kept under confinement in
these experiments were fed cod liv
er oil along with other feed and
had access to sunshine through
open windows In the laying house,
thereby preventing possible adverse
effects from vitamin deficiency.
These hens had a tendency to lay a
larger number of eggs during the
winter months Instead of In the
spring as was the case with the
hens on range. Electric lights were
used In both pens from 5 a. m. un
til daylight each day from Septem
ber until April. The fertility nor
hatchabillty of the eggs was affect
ed by the confinement of the hens,
nor was there any noteworthy dif
ference In mortality of the hens.
The flocks that were not confined
were fed the same rations, except
that cod liver oil was omitted, and
were allowed to range in grass
yards approximately 70 by 100 feet
In size.
Housing Pullets
All pullets, whether or not ma
ture, should be In their winter
quarters In advance of the cold,
frosty nights. In flocks where 5
per cent of the pullets are In pro
duction, one should move them Im
mediately to the laying house. If
the time of housing the pullets is
delayed until more than 5 per
cent of the pullets are In produc
tion, there Is some danger of inter
fering with production when the
pullets are transferred from the
brooding quarters to the laying
house. The laying house should be
cleaned and thoroughly disinfected
prior to moving the pullets. Fur
thermore, the pullets should be ex
amined for lice and treated for
same, If they are Infested, In ad
vance to placing them in their win
ter quarters.
With the Poultrymen
Comfort In the hen house spells
winter eggs.
• • •
The farmer with a flock of chick
ens has a cash crop every week In
the year.
• • •
Biddy will lay Just about the
same number of eggs whether it
rains or shines.
• • •
Mush which would be suitable
for growing chicks, if properly
moistened, would be suitable for
ducklings.
• • •
A dozen eggs will average about
22 ounces. The large eggs known
as the Jumbo size weigh about 26
ounces to the dozen.
• • •
Bonemeal Is a by-product of a
slaughter house where the offal
from the slaughter house Is col
lected, the meat removed from the
bones, ground fine.
• • •
If a slaughter of the flock to de
cided upon those birds In good flesh
can be sold to market. Tuberculin
tests can be made by a competent
veterinarian and reactors destroyed.
