THE
COPy RIGHT \
S.S.VAN DINE
J
W.NAJ. SERVICE
CHAPTER XIII—Continued
—15—
“I’m plannin’ to entice the mur
derer into making one more bet—a
losing bet . . . Cheerio.’’ And he
was gone.
It was a little after half-past two
when Vance returned to the apart
ment.
“Everything is in order,” he an
nounced as he came in. “There
are no horses running today, of
course, but nevertheless I’m looking
forward to a big wager being laid
this evening. If the bet isn’t placed,
we’re in for it, Markham. Every
one will be present, however. The
sergeant, with Garden’s help, has
got in touch with all those who were
present yesterday, and they will
foregather again in the Gardens’
drawing-room at six o’clock . . .”
He glanced at his watch and, ring
ing for Currie, ordered our lunch.
“If we don’t tarry too long at
table,” he said, “we’ll be able to
hear the second half of the Phil
harmonic programme. Melinoff is
doing Grieg’s piano concerto.”
But Markham did not go with us
to the concert. He pleaded an ur
gent political appointment at the
Stuyvesant club, but promised to
meet us at the Garden apartment
at six o’clock.
Sergeant Heath was waiting for
us when we reached the apartment.
"Everything’s set, sir,” he said to
Vance; “I got it here.”
Vance smiled a little sadly. “Ex
cellent, Sergeant. Come into the
other room.”
Heath picked up a small package
wrapped in brown paper, which he
had evidently brought with him, and
followed Vance into the bedroom.
Ten minutes later they both came
back into the library.
“So long, Mr. Vance,” Heath said,
shaking hands. “Good luck to you.”
And he lumbered out.
We arrived at the Garden apart
ment a few minutes before six
o’clock. Detectives Hennessey and
Burke were in the front hall
Vance nodded and started up the
stairs.
“Wait down here for me, Van,”
he said over his shoulder. “I’ll be
back immediately.”
CHAPTER XIV
I wandered into the den, the door
of which was ajar, and walked aim
lessly about the room, looking at
the various pictures and etchings.
Just then Vance entered. As he
came in he threw the door open
wider, half pocketing me in the cor
ner behind it, where I was not im
mediately noticeable. I was about
to speak to him, when Zalia Graem
came in.
“Philo Vance.” She called his
name in a low, tremulous voice.
He turned and looked at the girl
with a quizzical frown.
“I’ve been waiting in the dining
room,” she said. “I wanted to see
you before you spoke to the oth
ers.”
I realized immediately, from the
tone of her voice, that my presence
had not been noticed.
Vance continued to look squarely
at the girl, but did not speak. She
came very close to him now.
“Tell me why you have made me
suffer so much,” she said.
“I know I have hurt you,” Vance
returned. “But the circumstances
made it imperative. Please believe
that I understand more of this case
than you imagine I do.”
“I am not sure that I under
stand.” The girl spoke hesitantly.
“But 1 want you to know that I
trust you.” She looked up at him,
and I could see that her eyes were
glistening. Slowly she bowed her
head. “I have never been inter
ested in any man,” she went on—
and there was a quaver in her
voice. “The men I have known
have all made me unhappy and
seemed always to lead me away
from the things I longed for . . .”
She caught her breath. “You are
the one man I have ever known
whom I could—care for.”
So suddenly had this startling con
fession come, that I did not have
time to make my presence known,
and after Miss Graem finished
speaking I remained where I was,
lest I cause her embarrassment.
Vance placed his hands on the
girl’s shoulders and held her away
from him.
“My dear,” he said, with a curi
ously suppressed quality in his
voice, “I am the one man for whom
you should not care.” There was no
mistaking the finality of his words.
Vance smiled wistfully at the girl.
“Would you mind waiting in the
drawing-room a little while? . .”
She gave him a searching look
and, without speaking, turned and
went from the den.
Vance stood for some time gaz
ing at the floor with a frown of in
decision, as if loath to proceed with
whatever plans he had formulated.
I took this opportunity to come
out from my corner, and just as I
did so Floyd Garden appeared at
the hall door.
“Oh, hello, Vance,” he said. “I
didn’t know you had returned until
Zalia just told me you were in
here. Anything I can do for you?”
Vance swung around quickly.
“I was just going to send for you.
Everyone here?”
Garden nodded gravely. “Yes,
and they’re all frightened to death—
all except Hammle. He takes the
whole thing as a lark. I wish some
body had shot him instead of
Woody.”
“Will you send him in here,”
Vance asked. “I want to talk to
him. I’ll see the others presently.”
Garden walked up the hall, and at
that moment I heard Burke speak
ing to Markham at the front door.
Markham immediately joined us in
the den.
“Hope I haven’t kept you wait
ing,” he greeted Vance.
“No. Oh, no.” Vance leaned
against the desk. “Just in time.”
Markham had barely seated him
self when Hammle strutted into the
den with a jovial air. Vance nod
ded to him brusquely.
“Mr. Hammle,” he said, “we’re
wholly familiar with your philoso
phy of minding your own business
and keeping silent in order to avoid
all involvements. A defensible at
titude—but not in the present cir
cumstances. This is a criminal
case, and in the interest of justice
to everyone concerned, we must
have the whole truth. Yesterday
afternoon you were the only one
in the drawing-room who had even
a partial view down the hallway.
And we must know everything you
saw, no matter how trivial it may
seem to you.”
Hammle gave in.
“First of all, then,” said Vance,
without relaxing his stern gaze,
“when Miss Graem left the room,
ostensibly to answer a telephone
call, did you notice exactly where
she went?”
“Not exactly,” Hammle returned;
“but she turned to the left, toward
the den. You understand, of course,
that it was impossible for me to see
very far down the hall, even from
where I sat.”
“Quite.” Vance nodded. “And
when she came back to the draw
ing-room?”
“I saw her first opposite the den
door. She went to the hall closet
where the hats and wraps are kept,
and then came back to stand in the
archway until the race was over.
After that I didn’t notice her either
coming or going.”
“And what about Floyd Garden?”
asked Vance. “You remember he
followed Swift out of the room. Did
you notice which way they went, or
what they did?”
“As I remember, Floyd put his
arm around Swift and led him into
the dining-room. After a few mo
ments they came out. Swift seemed
to be pushing Floyd away from
him, and then he disappeared down
the hall toward the stairs. Floyd
stood outside the dining-room door
for several minutes, looking after
his cousin, and then went down the
hall after him; but he must have
changed his mind, for he came back
into the drawing-room in short or
der.”
“And you saw no one else in the
hall?”
“No. No one else.”
“Very good.” Vance took a deep
inhalation on his cigarette. “And
now let’s go to the roof-garden, fig
uratively speaking. You were in
the garden, waiting for a train,
when the nurse was almost suffo
cated with bromin gas in the
vault. The door into the passage
way was open, and if you had been
looking in the direction you could
easily have seen who passed up and
down the corridor.” Vance looked
at the man significantly. "And I
have a feelin’ you were looking
through that door, Mr. Hammle.
Your reaction of astonishment when
we came out on the root was a bit
overdone. And you couldn’t have
seen much of the city from where
you had been standing, don’t y’
know.” k
Hammle cleared his throat and
grinned.
“You have me there, Vance," he
admitted with familiar good-humor.
"Since I couldn’t make my train, I
thought I’d satisfy my curiosity and
stick around for a while to see
what happened. I went out on the
roof and stood where I could look
through the door into the passage
way—I wanted to see who was go
ing to get hell next, and what
would come of it all.”
“Thanks for your honesty.”
Vance’s face was coldly formal.
"Please tell us now exactly what
you saw through that doorway while
you were waiting, as you’ve con
fessed, for something to happen.’’
Again Hammle cleared his throa’
“Well, Vance, to tell you the
truth, it wasn’t very much. Just
people coming and going. First I
saw Garden go up the passageway
toward the study; and almost im
mediately he went back downstairs.
Then Zalia Graem passed the door
on her way to the study. Five or
ten minutes later the detective—
Heath, I think his name is—went
by the door, carrying a coat over
his arm. A little later—two or
three minutes, I should say—Zalia
Graem and the nurse passed each
other in the passageway, Zalia go
ing toward the stairs, and the nurse
toward the study. A couple of min
utes after Floyd Garden passed the
door on his way to the study
again—”
“Just a minute,” Vance interrupt
ed. “You didn’t see the nurse re
turn downstairs after she passed
Miss Graem in the passageway?”
Hammle shook his head emphat
ically. “No. Absolutely not.”
“One more thing, Mr. Hammle:
while you were out there in the
garden, did anyone come out on the
roof from the terrace gate?”
“Absolutely not. I didn’t see any
body at all on the roof.”
“And when Garden had returned
downstairs, what then?”
“I saw you come to the window
and look out into the garden. 1
was afraid I might be seen, and the
minute you turned away I went over
to the far corner of the garden, by
the gate. The next thing I knew,
you gentlemen were coming out on
the roof with the nurse.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hammle.
You’ve told me exactly what I want
ed to know. It may interest you
to learn that the nurse informed us
she was struck over the head in
I -» ^-!_3J-1
She Gave Him a Searching Look.
the passageway, on leaving the
study, and forced into the vault
which was full of bromin fumes.”
Zalia Graem was the first to en
ter the den. She glanced at Vance
appealingly and seated herself with
out a word. She was followed by
Miss Weatherby and Kroon, who sat
down uneasily beside her on the
davenport. Floyd Garden and his
father came in together. Miss Bee
ton was just behind them and
stopped hesitantly in ihe doorway,
looking uncertainly at Vance.
‘‘Did you want me too?” she
asked diffidently.
‘‘I think it might be best, Miss
Beeton,” said Vance. ‘‘We may
need your help.”
At that moment the front door
bell rang, and Burke ushered Doc
tor Siefert into the den.
‘‘I just got your message, Mr.
Vance, and came right over.” He
looked about the room questioning
ly.
‘‘I thought you might care to be
present," Vance said, “in case we
can reach some conclusion about
the situation here. I know you are
nersonally interested. Otherwise I
wouldn’t have telephoned you.”
“I’m glad you did,” said Siefert
blandly, and walked across to a
chair before the desk.
Vance lighted a cigarette with
slow deliberation, his eyes moving
aimlessly about the room. There
was a tension over the assembled
group.
The taut silence was broken by
Vance’s voice. He spoke casually,
but with a curious emphasis.
“I have asked you all to come
here this afternoon in the hope that
we could clear up the very tragic
situation that exists.”
He was interrupted by the
startling sound of a shot ominously
like that of the day before. Every
one in the room stood up quickly,
aghast at the sudden detonation.
Everyone except Vance. And be
fore anyone could speak, his calm
authoritative voice was saying:
“There is no need for alarm.
Please sit down. I expressly ar
ranged that shot for all of you to
hear—it will have an important
bearing on the case . . .”
Burke appeared at the door.
“Was that all right, Mr. Vance?”
“Quite all right,” Vance told him.
“The same revolver and blanks?”
“Sure. Just like you told me.
And from where you said. Wasn’t
it like you wanted it?”
“Yes, precisely,” nodded Vance.
“Thanks, Burke.”
The detective grinned broadly
and moved away down the hall.
“That shot, I believe,” resumed
Vance, sweeping his eyes lazily
over those present, "was similar to
the one we heard yesterday after
noon—the one that summoned us to
Swift’s dead body. It may interest
you to know that the shot just fired
by Detective Burke was fired from
the same revolver, with the same
cartridges, that the murderer used
yesterday — and from about the
same spot.”
"But this shot sounded as if it
were fired down here somewhere,”
cut in Siefert.
“Exactly," said Vance with sat
isfaction. “It was fired from one
of the windows on this floor.”
“But I understand that the shot
yesterday came from upstairs.” Sie
fert looked perplexed.
“That was the general, but er
roneous, assumption,” explained
Vance. “Actually it did not. Yes
terday, because of the open roof
door and the stairway, and the
closed door of the room from which
the shot was fired, and mainly be
cause we were psychologically
keyed to the idea of a shot from
the roof, it ga\e us all the im
pression of coming from the gar
den.”
Zalia Graem turned quickly to
Vance.
"The shot yesterday didn’t sound
to me as if it came from the garden.
When 1 came out of the den I won
dered why you were all hurrying
upstairs.”
Vance returned her gaze square
ly.
"No, it must have sounded much
closer to you,” he said. "But why
didn’t you mention that important
fact yesterday when I talked with
you about the crime?”
"I— don’t know," the girl stam
mered. "When I saw Woody dead
up there, I naturally thought I'd
been mistaken.”
"But you couldn’t have been mis
taken,” returned Vance, half under
his breath. "And after the revolver
had been fired yesterday from a
downstairs window, it was surrep
tiously placed in the pocket of
Miss Beeton’s top-coat in the hall
closet. Had it been fired from up
stairs it could have been hidden to
far belter advantage somewhere on
the roof or in the study.” He turned
again to the girL "By the by, Miss
Graem, didn’t you go to that closet
after answering your telephone call
here in the den?”
The girl gasped.
"How—how did you know?”
"You were seen there," explained
Vance.
The girl turned back to Vance
with flashing eyes.
“I’ll tell you why I went to the
hall closet. I went to get a hand
kerchief I had left in my handbag.
Does that make me a murderer?"
"No. Oh, no." Vance shook his
head and sighed. "Thank you for
the explanation . . . And will you
be so good as to tell me exactly
what you did last night when you
answered Mrs. Garden’s sum
mons?”
Zalia Graem glared defiantly at
Vance.
"I asked Mrs. Garden what 1
could do for her, and she requested
me to fill the water glass on the lit
tle table beside her bed. 1 went
into the bathroom and filled it;
then I arranged her pillows and
asked her if there was anything
else she wanted. She thanked me
and shook her head; and I returned
to the drawing-room.”
“Thank you,” murmured Vance,
nodding to Miss Graem and turn
ing to the nurse. "Miss Beeton,” he
asked, "when you returned last
night, was the bedroom window
which opens on the balcony
bolted?”
The nurse seemed surprised at
the question. But when she an
swered, it was in a calm, profes
sional tone.
"I didn’t notice. But I know it
was bolted when I went out—”
He turned leisurely to Floyd
Garden. "I say, Garden when you
left the drawing-room yesterday aft
ernoon, to follow Swift on your er
rand of mercy, as it were, after he
had given you his bet on Equanimi
ty, where did you go with him?”
"I led him into the dining-room.”
The man was at once troubled and
aggressive. "I argued with him for
a while, and then he came out and
went down the hall to the stairs. I
watched him for a couple of min
utes, wondering what else I might
do about it, for, to tell you the
truth, I didn’t want him to listen
in on the race upstairs. I was
pretty damned sure Equanimity
wouldn’t win, and he didn’t know I
hadn’t placed his bet. I was rather
worried about what he might do.
For a minute I thought of follow
ing him upstairs, but changed my
mind.”
Vance lowered his eyes to the
desk and was silent for several mo
ments, smoking meditatively.
“I’m frightfully sorry, and all
that,” he murmured at length, with
out looking up; “but the fact is,
we don’t seem to be getting any
forrader. There are plausible ex
planations for everything and every
body. Assuming—meiely as a hy
pothesis—that anyone here could be
guilty of the murder of Swift, of
the apparent attempt to murder
Miss Beeton, and of the possible
murder of Mrs. Garden, there is
nothing tangible to substantiate an
individual accusation. The per
formance was too clever, too well
conceived, and the innocent persons
seem unconsciously and involuntar
ily to have formed a conspiracy to
aid and abet the murderer.”
Vance looked up and went on.
no HE CONTINUED)
Clog Almanac
A clog almanac was a square
piece of wood, brass or bone about
eight inches long, which might be
either hung in a room or fitted into
a walking stick. It was a perpetual
almanac, showing the Sundays and
other fixed festivals. It was intro
duced into England by the Danes.
Twas This Way
86
By LYLE SPENCER
A Western Newspaper Union.
Lillie Church Around
the Corner
NEW YORK’S "Little Church
Around the Corner" is prob
ably the world’s most famous and
romantic spot to be married in.
And of all things, its popularity
first started from a funcrall
This historic place of worship,
whose real name is the Church of
the Transfiguration, is a pic
turesque, rambling, brown structure
on Twenty-ninth street near Fifth
avenue. About 1870, the great actor,
George Holland, died in New York.
His sister wanted his funeral to be
held at her own church— a then
fashionable temple on aristocratic
Fifth avenue.
Joseph Jefferson, an old friend of
the Holland family, called on the
high-toned rector of the church to
make arrangements for the funeral.
But that reverend gentleman re
fused to hold services for what he
termed a "common actor."
"There is," he said, "a little
church around the corner where
you might get it done.”
“Then,” said Mr. Jefferson sol
emnly, "God bless the little church
around the corner!"
A few days later the service for
the dead actor was held in the
“little church," before a congrega
tion that included many of the city’s
most prominent people. Attracted
by the human interest angle, news
papers gave it headlines. Mark
Twain wrote a touching piece about
it. So what might have been a
tragedy turned out to be a triumph.
From that memorable incident,
the "Little Church Around the Cor
ner,” got its name. Many noted
theatrical people joined its congre
gation, and all found a cordial,
warm reception. Where they went,
publicity followed. Many a theatri
cal wedding was performed before
its altar. Somehow the congenial,
friendly air of »s atmosphere has
been maintained down to this very
day.
The First Love Letter
HUMAN nature seems to be the
same at all times and in all
places. Numerous clay tablets near
ly 4,000 years old, which were re
cently dug up from the ruins of
Babylon, show that the habits and
problems of that ancient people
were astonishingly like our own.
These tablets, written in cunei
form inscriptions, have been labori
ously translated by scientists. One
tells of the complaint of a young
man about the bad food he receives
in his boarding house and how he
longs for the food he used to get
at home. Another tablet is the plea
of a mother for her wayward son
to come home and be forgiven.
And most familiar of all is the
tablet written by a young man who
has gone to Babylon to make his
fortune, who wants his sweetheart
to join him there and become his
wife. Here it is, the oldest love
letter in the world:
"To Bibeya from Gimil Marduk—
Nay Shamash and Marduk grant
thee, for my sake, to live forever.
I write this to inquire after thy
health. Let me know how it goes
with thee. I am now settled in
Babylon, but I am in great anxiety
because I have not seen thee. Send
news when thou wilt come, that 1
may rejoice at it. Come in the
month of Arakhsamna (November
December). Mayest thou, for my
sake, live forever.”
America’s First Presidents
ALTHOUGH George Washington
was the father of our country,
he was not, as is often mistakenly
assumed, the first President of the
United States. That honor goes to
an obscure man most of us have
never even heard of—Thomas Mc
Kean.
Our present Constitution did not
go into effect until March 4, 1789.
Washington was the first President
under its provisions, and served un
til his voluntary retirement in 1797.
But before that time our country,
such as it then was, had been held
together by the Articles of Confed
eration.
On September 5, 1774, delegates
from twelve states (Georgia was
not represented at the first con
gress) met in Philadelphia and or
ganized what has since been called
the Continental congress. Its pur
pose was to organize the colonies in
to a federation for united action
against their common enemy, Eng
land.
The Continental congress met ir
regularly until March 2, 1789. Its
most important single act was draw
ing up and adopting, on July 4, 1776,
the Declaration of Independence,
written largely by Thomas Jeffer
son.
The delegate in charge at the
meetings carried the title and signed
papers as “The President of the
United States.” Thomas McKean
was the first man to be elected to
that post. Altogether, there were
eight .different men who held the
office, in addition to John Hancock
who was elected but declined to
serve.
No Valentine
Ry MARIAN P. JOHNSON
© McClure Newspaper Syndicate.
WNU Service.
‘‘‘VT'OU will take the Valentine de
* partment. Miss King,” said Mr.
Lane importantly.
Maisie King emitted a sharp little
gasp and opened her mouth to pro*
test.
“At once, Miss King!” snapped
Mr. Lane. "Follow me!”
Maisie followed.
A short time later she stood
among the valentines and glared.
It was bad enough, having her
first serious quarrel with Jim just
before Valentine's Day. But being
yanked bodily from the frothy col
lars and cuffs she adored to be
planted ruthlessly among the val
entines was—well, it was just plain
sickening, decided Maisie rebel
liously.
She was deluged almost at once
with customers.
“Something for mother,” demand
ed a smooth masculine voice. And
Maisie's heart did a neat flip-flop
almost over the counter and back
again. She gritted her teeth and
shoved a valentine at hitn.
“How's that?” she inquired. Cool
ly, she hoped. And lifted her eyes
to Jim’s.
"O. K.,” said Jim, grinning.
“How’re you feeling, honey?”
“Does it matter?" inquired
Maisie icily. After all, this was the
very last strawl
“Maybe not,” remarked Jim, his
mouth tightening into that straight
grim line it had held so doggedly
during last night’s battle. “Well,
if that’s the way you feel, so long!”
Picking up his valentine he
stalked away. Six feet of blue
eyed, brown-haired outraged man
hood.
That night Jim took Lou Ryder
to the movies. Maisie saw them
and her eyes became bright and her
anger grew. She suffered night
mares crowded with the faces of
hearts surrounded by little flying
cupids and bows and arrows of shin
ing gold.
Going back to the valentines next
morning was a hollow mockery. Es
pecially since her small calendar re
minded her it was February 14.
“After all, what s the difference7
she demanded. “It’s just another
day.”
Sorting her stock she paused sud
denly over a line of humorous
cards. One of them pictured a girl
with protruding front teeth lisping
some sort of mushy sentiment. The
girl looked amazingly like Lou Ry
der.
That afternoon a voice broke sud
denly through the others. “A Sweet
heart Valentine, please.”
Maisie jumped. Jim! She shoved
some valentines at him without
looking up.
“Haven’t you something a little
nicer?” inquired Jim critically.
“Something sort of special, you
know.”
With trembling fingers Maisie
pulled out the very best in the store.
"That's better,” decided Jim of
fering a bill.
Suddenly Maisie couldn’t bear it.
As she turned to wrap up the sick
ening thing her eyes rested momen
tarily on the card with the picture of
Lou—well, it might as well be Lou!
—Ryder. On a sudden wild im
pulse Maisie slapped Lou and her
front teeth into the box, wrapped
them up and shoved the mushy one
under the counter.
“There!” she exclaimed, and
handed the box to Jim.
Now she’d done it. Made him
mad for ever and ever. It was all
finished. Their love. The little home
they’d planned. Maisie took long,
deep breaths and didn't care. It
served Jim right. Going out with
Lou Ryder the very next night aft
er—
On the way home she had time
to realize what she’d done. Jim
was going to be wild. She wouldn’t
be surprised a bit If he came right
over and howled things at her. Well,
decided Maisie grimly, stretching
her aching feet, she’d howl right
back. She’d tell him!
Oh, what was the use? Jim would
just never speak to her again. The
days stretched before her In one
solid blank. No laughter. No joy.
No Jim.
Reaching her rooming-house at
last Maisie started to walk deter
minedly past the mail box. There
wouldn’t be anything in it. But out
of the corner of her eye she saw
a white edge protruding.
Maisie grabbed. She dashed into
her room and riddled the flap of
the envelope with a shaking fore
finger.
“It can’t be a bill,” she muttered.
“It isn’t the first of the month.”
It wasn't a bill. It was a valen
tine. “To Mother," it proclaimed
in soft gilt letters amid flying doves
and delicate sprays of flowers.
Maisie’s heart sank. "Mistake,”
she muttered, and turned it over.
On the back were scrawled these
words: “I tried to buy a valen
tine but the one you gave me doesn’t
seem to fit. So I had to use this.
I’ll be over about seven. Thaw out,
honey. I love you. Jim.”
True Hospitality
A spinster encountered some boys
in the old swimming-hole, minus
everything but nature’s garb, and
was horrified.
“Isn’t it against the law to bathe
without suits on, little boys?”
“Yes’m,” announced freckled
Johnny, “bufc Jimmy’s father is a
Doliceman, so you can come on in.”
A Touch of Spring
Upon Your Linens
_
Could you ask for a daintier,
more Springlike wreath? Here’*
a bit of embroidery that’s unfail
ingly lovely, and always easy to
do!—Pattern 5570, whi^h will give
an old or new bedspread a quick
Pattern 5570
beauty treatment. You can us*
gayly colored floss both for the
lilac clusters and their dainty
bow, and just the easiest of
stitches—blanket, single, outline,
lazy daisy and French knots.
In Pattern 5570 you will find a
transfer pattern of one large
spray 15 by 20% inches; one bow
knot 4Yi by 12% inches; two
sprays 3 by 5% inches and two
sprays 3Vi by 3y<i inches; color
suggestions; illustrations of all
stitches used; material require
ments.
To obtain this pattern send 15
cents in stamps or coins (coins
preferred) to The Sewing Circle
Household Arts Dept., 259 W.
Fourteenth St., New York, N. Y.
Write plainly your name, ad
dress and pattern number.
Chinese Currency
There is no legally recognized
standard of currency in China.
The money system varies with
the region. The Chinese have used
money as a medium of exchange
of 5,000 years, but they have never
for 5,000 years, but they have nev
er standardized it. At the time of
Christ they were using 30 different
kinds.
Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription is a
tonic which has been helping women
of all ages for nearly 70 years. Adv,
Levity in Best Minds
There is always some levity,
even in excellent minds; they
have wings to rise, and also to
stray.—Joubert.
TO EASE
RHEUMATIC PAINS
15c
FORU
> FULL
DOZEN
for as«
Demand and Get Genuine
BAYER ASPIRIN
Their Wisdom
Angels do not “fear to tread”
anywhere; only, being angels,
they know better.
Don't Sleep
on Left Side,
Crowds Hean
GAS PRESSURE MAY CAUSE DISCOMFORT.
RIGHT SIDE BEST.
If you toes In bed and can’t eleep on
right aide, try Adlerika. Just ONE
dote relievet ttomach GAS pretting
on heart to you sleep aoundly.
Adlerika acta on BOTH upper and
lower bowels and brings put foul
matter you would never believe waa
in your eyetem. Thla old matter may
have poieoned you for months and
caused GAS, tour stomach, headache
or nervousness.
Dr. If. L. Sboub, Now Tork, r. port. I
"In addition to Inlattlnal clooming, Adlarlka
groat l y roducot bar tori a and colon bacUlt."
Mrs. Jat. Filler: ‘‘Gas on my atom
ach was so bad I could not eat or
sleep. Even my heart teemed to hurt.
The first dote of Adlerika brought me
> relief. Now I eat as I with, sleep fine
1 and never felt better.’’
Give your bowels a REAL cleansing
with Adlerika and aee how good you
feel. Just ONE dote relieves GAS and
constipation. At all Leading Druggists.
—.————-—- ■
WNU—U_ 1Q—37
Vagabondage
“All the vagabondage of the
world begins in neglected child
hood.”—Victor Hugo.
Help Them Cleanse the Blood
of Harmful Body Waste
Your kidneys are constantly Altering
waste matter from the blood stream. But
kidneys sometimes lag in their work—do
not act as Nature intended—fail to re
move Impurities that, if retained, may
poison the system and upset tbe whole
body machinery.
Symptoms may be nagging backache,
persistent headache, attacks of dizziness^
getting up nights, swelling, puffiness
under the eyes—a feeling of nervous
anxiety and loss of pep and strength.
Other signs of kidney or blsdder dis*
order may be burning, scanty or too
frequent urination.
There should be no doubt that prompt
treatment is wiser than neglect. Use
Doan's Pills. Doan’s have been winning
new friends for more than forty years.
They have a nation-wide reputation.
Are recommended by grateful people tbs
country over. Ask your neighborI
