THE GIFT WIFE...
*«—**«« By RUPERT HUGHES
I —
CHAPTER VIII—Continued
—10—
To Jebb’s eyes the man was utter
ly a stranger, but Mr. Rosen no
sooner saw Jebb than a smile be
gan to quirk his mouth corners. And
his greeting was:
“What’s the trouble this time?”
“Oh—you refer to the time I was
here before.”
“Naturally.”
Jebb stood in embarrassment.
“You haven’t lost your passport
again, have you?”
“I’m afraid I have.”
“Well, it hasn’t been found. If it
turned up the police would have for
warded it to us. Say, you must be
as rich as you say, for you pay
fines just for the fun of it. Where
have you been all this while, Mr.—
Mr.—"
“Are you trying to say ‘Pier
pont’?”
“That’s it, Mr.—Vanderbilt Pier
pont, eh?"
Jebb nodded. "Tell me, Mr. Ro
sen, you remember that little child I
had with me the time you saw me?”
“Child? No. You had no child
with you when I saw you. I’ll not
soon forget the first picture I had of
you. Word came here that some
Yankee was in trouble with the cus
toms house. It’s a common occur
rence. Americans are forever
bouncing into Turkey without the in
dispensable passport. The consul
sent me down as usual to get our
fellow-countryman out of hock. I
can see you sitting there now. You
were very haughty. I thought at
the time that perhaps you had been
indulging a little in magnificent wa
ter. You sat there hugging a Glaa
stone bag and threatening to report
the customs inspector to your par
ticular friend the Sultan.”
"I had a Gladstone bag with me?”
"Yes, and the fellow had found
some suspicious looking documents
In it. Everything looked suspicious
in the days of the old Sultan. You
said you had come to Turkey to buy
something—I don’t remember just
what. So many Americans come
here to buy things. Anyway, you
didn’t have a passport and the in
spector wanted to fine you. You
said ‘Millions for defense, but not
one cent for tribute.’ I remember
that. I calmed you down and per
suaded the customs people to accept
a consular guaranty and give you
a new passport. And then you went
your way. Now you’ve lost it again,
eh?”
“You’re sure I had a Gladstone
bag with me?”
“Perfectly. It was full of blue
prints and specifications and other
dangerous looking papers.”
“Where had I come from?”
“You got off an Austro-Hungarian
Lloyd steamer.”
“And you can’t tell me where I
got on?”
“Look here, my friend, are you
stringing me? Asking me questions
about you—what’s this new game
anyway? Lord help us, I thought
I’d heard about all the fool ques
tions a consul could be asked, but
this is a new line. Why don’t you
cable to your friends in America
and say, ‘Who am I? Where was I?
Where do I go from here?—answer
prepaid.’ ”
It seemed inadvisable for Jebb to
keep his secret from his angering
countryman. Seeing that there was
no one else about, Jebb hitched his
chair close to Mr. Rosen’s desk and
unbosomed his story. Strange de
light of confession! Just giving voice
to his old secret was an immense
relief. Rosen shook his head with
the sympathy most Americans feel
for the clients of Mr. Barleycorn:
“Too bad, old man,” he said, "I'm
rather fond of the liquid myself, but
I take it in sips.”
“Don’t waste time sympathizing
with me," Jebb broke in; “think of
the child.”
“Do you know, l believe we’ve
heard of her from another source."
“You have! You mean she’s
found?”
“No, we’ve just heard that she
was lost. We got a circular note
from the American consul in Vi
enna. He had had word from the
Austrian police.”
“My friend von Hellwald put them
on the track. Have they heard any
thing?"
“Oh, no. They’ve just begun to
pretend to look. And here’s the cir
cular.”
He took from a pigeonhole a sheet
of paper.
“You see, it says, ‘Wanted infor
mation of Cecilia Baxter.’ ”
“It isn't Baxter—it’s Thatcher,”
Jebb insisted. “And not Cecilia, but
Cynthia.”
Rosen tossed the circular to Jebb.
“Oh Lord, Oh Lord!” Jebb
groaned, "they’ve misspelled the
name." He looked further. "And
got the description wrong! She
doesn't look a bit like that! The
search has been useless, useless.”
Suddenly Rosen was startled by a
new idea:
“You say the child’s real name
was not Baxter, but Thatcher?”
“Yes, Thatcher.”
"Any relation to—” he put his
hand out to another pigeonhole for a
card, “to John Thatcher, of Ber
lin?”
“That’s her father.”
"Is that so?”
"Yes. How did you get his
name?"
"It was like this. A few weeks
ago a Turk who keeps a little khan
in the outskirts of town came in
here with a Gladstone bag—”
"A Gladstone bag?”
"Yes, same style as the one you
carried, now that I come to think of
it. The Turk—Hafiz Mustafa was his
name—he went to America as a
wrestler once. He can speak and
read English a little. He came here
with a Gladstone bag full of papers.
He told a long cock-and-bull yarn
about some American gentleman
who had left them with him and nev
er came back. The Turk came here
to see about it. He wouldn't leave
the bag, but he let us look through
it There were a lot of blueprints
and mechanical drawings with the
name of John Thatcher on them.
And a bundle of clippings and let
ters. I made a note of the name
and promised to keep it in mind.”
“Where can I find the fellow?”
"I'll have him here tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait to see him. Where
is he to be found?”
"His name is Hafiz Mustafa and
he keeps a little khan out near the
Adrianople Gate, close to the
“I see right away you
are American.”
Mosque of Mirima. Better go to
the foot of the bridge and take one
of the Golden Horn steamers—they
run every fifteen minutes—get off at
Avian Serai, this side of Eyub, and
then go west through the Greek
quarter. While you’re up there you
ought to see the wonderful cemetery
of Eyub and the old landwall.”
”1 don’t want to see any cemeter
ies. I want to see that Turkish wres
tler with the Gladstone bag. Good
afternoon.”
CHAPTER IX
‘ At last the effendi is on the job!”
This was Jebb’s greeting from a
ponderous Turk at the door of a
shabby khan. The man had all the
look of a retired athlete, whose sin
ews of steel had degenerated into
swaddles of fat.
He recognized Jebb on the in
stant, and he was big enough to be
rememberable on his own account;
but Jebb could not recall an ounce
of him.
Hafiz Mustafa bustled about mak
ing coffee and preparing a narghile
for his honored guest. He spoke
what English he had with a strong
flavor of the Bowery, in whose en
virons he had picked up his smat
tering.
“How you like my little khan, eh?
He is not so worse, I theenk, huh?”
“It is beautiful,” said Jebb,
though he could not imagine a more
doleful spot.
“It is not soch a dam racket out
here as in New York Ceety, eh? For
long tarn I had a how they say?—a
hash-house on Washeenton Street.
Yes. I get lots of the long green in
America and I buy that leetle hash
house from an Osmanli who is home
seeck for Stamboul. Bine-by I get
the homeseeck too.
“So at last I sell out for big pile
of dough and come home. Eet ees
not such a much business here, but
I can rest and theenk. Eet is a
small walk out to the beeg fields
where the tombstones is nice to seet
on and smoke and dream the nice
long dream. And she is out there,
my little hanim what I breeng from
America.”
"You brought your wife from
America?” Jebb inquired politely.
“Evvet, effendim—I mean, sure,
Mike, I breeng her. She is dancer
in music hall on Bowery.”
“A Turkish dancer?”
“Not on your life, Bo. She is pure
American blood; comes from the
great ceety of Weesconseen. I see
her dance one night. I theenk she
is mos’ beautiful theeng what ever
ees—she wear the leetle trunks and
the seelk tights and the—spengles,
and she stand up on her toes like
she enjoy it. Bine-by, she ees love
me, too, and we get married. She
says she ees sick of that tarrible
life, and so when I buy pretty leetle
hash-house she help me. One day
she is make coffee in those beeg
boiler they have in America and
the water spills over, and she is
tarrible—how do you say?—scalded.
Her pretty face is tarrible burned.
“But she is still beautiful to me,
and her body is still the body like a
seraili from Circassia. But after
that she hates to go out in the
street.
“I tell her, ‘You come home to
Stamboul where honest wives is
wear the yildirma’—the veil, effen
dim. The veil is very kind thing.
It keeps all women the same. Eet is
more equality than the hat.
“Her name in Weesconseen was
Annie Meetchel, but I geeve her
neew name—Osmanli name—Nayi
ma, eet ees one nice name—yes?”
Jebb thought, yes indeed—not so
pretty as Miruma, but a great im
provement on Annie Mitchell
“I used to have my khan near
the Egyptian Bazaar,” Hafiz went
on, “but since my Nayima is out in
grave there I like thees better. In
evening I sit there and smoke and
theenk, nobody is in hurry—nobody
say, ‘Get a move on, Hafiz!’ ”
"The Gladstone—they tell me you
found it?—where?”
“The Gladdastone, effendim?
What is that?”
“The bag—the valise—the—that
thing of mine, you found.”
After another thimbleful of cof
fee, another mouthful of smoke,
Hafiz rose, and, entering the khan,
brought forth the Gladstone bag.
Jebb recognized it with intense de
light. He wanted to caress it. It
was the first material link to his un
substantial past.
He rummaged the contents with a
sharpness of eye that might have
offended a subtler Turk than Haflz.
“All is there, I theenk?” Haflz
asked, and Jebb nodded as he recog
nized every document he had col
lected in John Thatcher’s cause. But
he had cherished a wild hope of
finding something more. With some
embarrassment he asked:
“You didn’t find ten thousand dol
lars in here, did you?”
The Turk smiled. The Yankees
always joked. His politely amiable
smile was more convincing than any
other disclaimer could have been.
“Oh, yes,” he chuckled, “I And
ten thousan’ dollars—in a peeg’s
eye.”
“Would you mind telling me
where you found this?”
“Sure, I’ll tell you, but not unteel
the boss has sometheeng to eat.”
“Oh, thank you. I’ll go back to
the Bristol Hotel for my dinner.”
“The Breestol—not on your teen
type, Bo. It is so late you never
get there. You must take a—how
did they say?—a snack with me.”
He would hear of nothing else,
and Jebb was forced to resign him
self to the delay, hoping that per
haps some clew might yet transpire
to aid his further search.
Afterwards Haflz began his story:
"The day I feerst laid my eyes on
to you—the old Padishah Abdul Ha
mid—whom Allah preserve!—if it
please Allah—and I hope it does not
—was still wearing the great sword
of Othman. But it was after the
people from Salonica had come down
and made him call back the Consti
tution. He took it off the ice—see?
“When feerst the Young Turks Is
come to town some of the ladies
think everytheeng going to be turned
upsidown. They throw off the yil
dirma and go out to the streets, even
to the theater. Some of them ride
In carriage with their husbands.
Some of them wear beeg hats from
Paris. This make the releegious
people mad like what if in New York
all the ladies is wear bathing suits
on Broodway, yes?
“Me and some pals is stopping a
carriage and telling a lady she bet*
ter go home and put on her veil or
she’s goin’ to be very sorry. She
is educated Osmanli lady; she
makes poetry and writes a maga
zine, but she read too many French
novels, she goes out in the high
heel shoes, the tight clothes over the
immoral corsets—and her face is
naked. She is scream when we tear
oft her big feathers. First theeng
I know, somebody grabs me. I turn
round; it is you, and you say: 'You
beeg brute, I’m going to break ev
ery bone in your body if you say one
’nother word to that poor child!’ "
The huge wrestler looked at the
slender physician, then at his own
boa constrictor arms, and laughed.
There was no insult in his superior
ity.
Jebb smiled, too, at the magnifi
cence of this Vanderbilt-Pierpont
ism, and asked:
“Why didn’t you beat the life out
of me?”
Hafiz smiled: "I see right away
you are American, and the Ameri
cans is so nice to me—my Nayima is
American, and the words you use
they listen good to me. So I take
your wrists and I hold you very gen
tle and talk to you nice and say in
Eengleesh, ‘Please, mister, kill me,
but spare my life.’
“You say, ‘If you let that lady go,
I let you live a little while.’ I turn
round and the lady is already vam
oose. The other mens is want to
have your blood, but I tell them
you are a friend of a friend of mine,
and they go away.
“Then I say, Boss, it s my treat/
and we sit down at a little table in
a little khan and I blow you off to
coffee. Bine-by, you say you got a
date weet’ the Padishah, and I say,
‘So long, old pal, I stay and feenish
thees narghile!’
“So you go and I stay. Bine-by,
I see you have leeved this—Gladda
stone, yes? on the ground by your
table. Nobody knows your name or
where you live at. I go to the Amer
ican consulate. Nobody knows you.
They say, ‘Leave the bag here. We
give it to him.’ I say, ‘Nix on the
hot air. I know about the American
grafter. I keep it till my friend
calls for it his own self.’
“1 wait long tam, but at last you
are here, and here is the Gladda
stone. And that is all.’’
Jebb sat in deep reverie, deeply
dejected. Then he shook off the old
sorrow, and prepared to go. He
wondered what reward Haflz would
think appropriate. He decided to
throw himself on Haflz’ mercy:
“I can’t thank you enough, for
finding this and keeping it for me.
And now. how—how much do I owe
you?”
“Look here, boss,” Haflz groaned,
"have I act like a piker, a panhan
dler, have I? I thought you and me
was friends. I was doin’ this as one
American to a pal.”
Jebb took his big limp hand and
tried to wring it.
"Excuse me.” he said, “I’m
ashamed of myself.”
“Let her go at that,” said Haflz;
"cut it out, and clean it off the slate.
When you git back to New York, if
you’ll stop in at some Osmanli res
taurant down on Washeenton Street
or somewhere and tell them you
know me, and I was lookin’ well,
and sent my best regards—they’ll
blow you to the best there is in the
joint, and I’ll call it square.”
“I promise,” said Jebb. “And now
I’ve really got to go."
(TO HE CONTINUED)
N. Y. Silversmiths Were Men of Consequence
Prosperous in their craft, Seven
teenth century New York silver
smiths were men of consequence,
says the “American Collector.” The
name silversmith did not come into
common use till the Eighteenth
century.
Of those who wrought a little lat
er we know much more. Ahasuerus
Hendrickse, trained in Holland, took
his oath of allegiance to the king
in 1675; thence onward he was a
prominent figure. He made “jewel
ry, rings, funeral spoons, and beak
ers and, as well, fashioned the sil
ver spears, pikes and sword-hilts,
affected by the militant burghers."
Carol van Brugh was likewise a
person of note. He it was who
made “the gold cup presented to
Governor Fletcher in 1693, the bul
lion for which was purchased for
£106 and turned over to Vander
burgh (van Brugh) to fashion,” the
council providing "that the revenue
from the ferry be used for no other
purpose until the bill for this was
paid.”
Garrett Onelebagh, who made
Shelley’s Nassau tankard, belonged
to a prominent family.
Jacobus van der Spiegel was an
ensign in Captain Walter’s com
pany, sent to Albany in 1689 to pro
tect the northern frontier against
the impending French invasion; lat
er a captain, assessor for the West
ward in 1694-’95, and in 1698 “elect
ed to the highly honorable position
of constable."
Benjamin Wynkoop, Bartholomew
Schaats and nearly all the early sil
versmiths bestirred themselves in
civic matters. Of the silversmiths
who were not Dutch, two especial
ly must be named—John Windover
and the Huguenot, Bartholomew le
Roux, the latter energetically es
pousing the people's cause at the
time of the Leisler rebellion in 1689.
Although they did not work in
the Seventeenth century, and some
of them were not born till the open
ing years of the Eighteenth, such
men as Peter van Dyck, often
termed the greatest of New York’s
silversmiths; Adrian Bancker,
Simeon Soumaine, the Ten Eycks
and others ought to be mentioned
in connection with Seventeenth-cen
tury silver. They worthily carried
on its tradition with only such
changes as might be expected from
conservative craftsmen in the
course of orderly evolution.
B,\*g %
JTERNh ^ ^
Depart h ent
'T'HERE are two styles that you
know right now you’ll need,
even if your Spring wardrobe is
not entirely settled in your own
mind! During the months to come,
you’ll want several free-and-easy
sleeveless tennis frocks; and even
before that, you’ll want at least
one “little suit" for street and run
about. Well, here they both are,
in this truly money-saving pattern
(8597). The tennis frock has a
swing skirt, wide, inset belt and
strap back. Add the pinch-waisted
little jacket-blouse (the fitting is
Strange Facts | ]
Music in Silence
Rowed the Atlantic
High-Cost Injuries _,
Many Shinto festivals in Japan
include a religious orchestra
whose members only go through
the motions of playing on their in
struments and, consequently, do
not make § sound. This “music,”
which is directed toward the gods,
is played silently because it is too
sacred to be heard by human ears.
Since 1876, nine men have been
known to cross the Atlantic ocean
in rowboats. Six were in pairs,
while the other three succeeded
alone. The last one was Joseph
Lawlor, who rowed from Boston
to a small port in Spain in 1911.
a ijfa- -
The largest settlement ever
made on an automobile liability
policy for a single accident was
$225,000, which was paid a few
months ago to a group of persons
who were injured in a wreck of a
station wagon on Long Island. Set
tlement was made without litiga
tion.—Collier's.
WOMEN! Help ward off functional
periodic pains by taking Dr. Pierce’s
Favorite Prescription over a period of
time. Helps build physical resistance
by improving nutritional assimulation.
—Adv.
Half of the Tale
He hears but half who hears one
party only.—Aeschylus.
all by means of easy darts) and
there’s your suit-frock.
What's more, you can make the
jacket-blouse two ways—with scal
loped sleeves and neckline, and
with a naive, round collar.
Pattern No. 8597 is designed for
sizes 12, 14, 16, 18 and 20. Size 14
requires 2Mt yards of 39-inch ma
terial for frock; 1% yards for
jacket-blouse; 3 yards trimming.
Send order to:
SEWING CIRCLE PATTERN DEPT.
Room 1334
311 W. Wacker Dr. Chicago
Enclose 15 cents In coins for
Pattern No.Size.
Name .,,,,,,,....
Address ..
Making Draperies?
Some Style Hints!
By RUTH WYETH SPEARS
TTHAT lace curtains are In fash
* ion again is news! This easy-to
make and easy-to-hang valance is
something that many of you have
been wanting. All the dimensions
for cutting it are given here. The
glass curtains are hung on the
lower rod; the side drapes on the
upper rod; and the valance is
draped over knob holders.
The color plan for this window
began with the glazed chintz dra
pery material in tones of green,
beige and golden yellow. The
darkest green—a soft olive tone,
was used in sateen to line the
valance and make the tie-backs.
The brass holders for the valance
repeated the golden yellow. The
□ WIDTH OF/
Hwinoow-y
.JFRAME T7
/(I It -HAI.K
HOLDER
FOR
VALENCE
cream glass curtains toned into
the drapery background, and a
plain olive green window shade
was used.
• • •
NOTE: Mrs. Spears has pre
pared four booklets for our read
ers with illustrated directions for
making 128 thrifty homemaking
ideas. Each book contains an as
sortment of 32-pages of curtains;
slip covers; rag rugs; toys; gifts
and novelties for bazaars. Books
are 10 cents each—please order
by number—No. 1, 2, 3 and 4—
With your order for four booklets
you will receive a FREE set of
three Quilt Block patterns of Mrs.
Spears’ B’avorite Early American
Quilts. Send orders to:
MRS. RUTH WYETH SPEARS
Drawer 10
Bedford Hllli New York
Enclose 10 cents for one book, or
40 cents for four books and set of quilt
block patterns.
Name ...
Address .
Life of a Barrel
Wooden barrels are sometimes
used successively by as many as
20 different industries as contain
ers for products that will not be
harmed or tainted by previous con
tents. Hence, these barrels, de
creasing in value with each sale,
can transport the following prod
ucts in this order: Whisky, vine
gar, molasses, corn syrup, olive
oil, lubricating oil, paint, disin
fectants and tar.—Collier's.
O-Cedar It, Lady I
Give your furniture a cloan
warm fusfrous look
Lady, you can clean the murky, grimy, dirty
look from furniture(woodwork and floors)
and polish them as you clean them... when
you me genuine O-Cedar Polish. 11 saves half
your time, as your furniture takes
look, then a lovely lustre, a soft warm silken
lustre. Ask your neighborhood dealer for
MOPS, WAX, DUSTIRS, CLEANERS AND
O-CEDAR FLY AND MOTH SPRAY
Rarest of Arts
The art of life is the most dis
tinguished and rarest of all the
arts.
★
SATISFACTION^
HEADQUARTERS*
OERRY S \
Ferry’s Seeds are de
pendable. They come
up to your expecta
tions. Buy from your
dealer’s display today.
It’s convenient! Actual
color photographs on
packets help you plan
your garden.
Utter Loneliness
What loneliness is more lonely
than distrust?—George Eliot.
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Vitamin A (Carotene) raises the resistance of
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