CHAPTER XXI.—Continued.
“Bah! don't mention that word to
me again. I am sick of your hypocrisy.
You don't deceive me, let me tell you.
Your plea of cowardice is a convenient
•subterfuge. Every fact points to your
being in league with these adven
turers. A coward wouldn’t have taken
the risks you have taken. You saw
the man hiding in the stairway: you
saw him about to fire on a helpless
girl; and you raised no hand. Am I
talking plainly enough?”
I looked into Locke's eyes, glaring
with rage and contempt, and I laughed
aloud. It was actually a relief to have
my weakness exalted to the plane of
deliberate villainy.
“Laugh, my friend, but I am not to
be deceived by a laugh.”
“And now that I stand abased in my
naked deviltry?”
“I give you five minutes to make a
full and complete confession. If at
the end of five minutes you still re
fuse, I shall have you promptly arrest
ed for being a partner in the intrigues
of the Countess Sarahoff, for masquer
ading as Sir Mortimer Brett, and for
being an accomplice in the murder of
Miss Brett.”
Five minutes! The time was not
long. I knew Locke would keep his
word; but more than ever I was stub
bornly resolved to refuse taking him
into my confidence.
Could I tell him my reasons for act
ing as I had done? Could I tell him
that I had set out on the romantic
quest of saving a life for the life that
had been lost? Would he believe that?
At least without appealing to the wom
an who had set me that task? To
•drag in her name was impossible.
The minutes passed swiftly, bo
this was the end of my task! Disgrace
and imprisonment! I had warned
Helena that might be the case. I
looked across the valley at the pin
nacles of the Castle of Happiness.
What a fool I have been!
“Your time is almost up." said
Locke grimly, looking at the watch he
had placed on his knee. "And Miss
Brett is walking in the garden over
there. Do you wish her to see you
marched off to prison?”
On the contrary, it was she who
must set me free! I would put her to
the supreme test. Now if she trusted
me as she had promised, I might yet
escape from the awkward dilemma.
I rose to my feet, i called to her,
"Miss Brett!”
She came to us. My maneuver so
completely astonished Locke that he
stared at me speechless.
"Miss Brett,” I said quietly, "Mr.
Locke has taken upon himself the task
of bringing me to justice. He finds
me guilty of complicity in the in
trigues of Madame de Varnier. He re
fuses to believe that I am acting in
your behalf. I cannot blame him for
his suspicions. The facts are almost
wholly against me—the surface facts.
I do not even deny most of them. But
he has woefully misconstrued my mo
tives in every case. I refuse absolute
ly to tell him what those motives are.
He has threatened me with arrest un
less I make to him a full and complete
confession without delay. Mr. Locke,
as 1 have said, is acting on the behalf
of your mother and yourself. Person
ally he has no right whatever to make
any complaint against me."
"Miss Brett will be the last person
to shield you from punishment when
she knows the truth,” interrupted
Locke, bewildered at my audacity in
appealing to her.
"Among other things, Miss Brett,”
I continued eagerly, “he accuses me of
being an accomplice in your attempted
murder in the stairway.”
“There are facts more tangible than
that," said Locke significantly.
“But I refuse to listen to them,"
said Helena, reassuring me with a
quiet glance. “I am not so ignorant
of these facts, perhaps, as you imag
ine, Mr. Locke. I have every confi
dence in you, Mr. Haddon. As to caus
ing your arrest, that is absurd.”
“Thank you,” I returned, with a pas
sion of gratitude in my heart. “You
will hear from me before midnight. If
at the end of that time you do not, I
think it would be well for you to con
sult Mr. Locke. He knows a great
deal of which you are ignorant."
“Be sure of this, sir, I shall not wait
until midnight to enlighten Miss
Brett,” cried Locke, his face purple
with anger and chagrin.
“Mr. Locke, let us understand each
other,” said Helena, and even Locke
felt that her decision was irrevocable.
“Mr. Haddon is my friend. I refuse to
believe him guilty of dishonor, much
less of deliberate crime. I refuse, and
my mother will refuse, to press any
charge against him. More than that,
we trust him to help us in our dif
Acuities.”
Locke closed the face of his watch
with a snap.
“If you have come to that decision,"
he said with assumed carelessness,
“there is nothing more to be said. If
I can be of service to you, you will
find me at the hotel at midnight, as
the chivalrous Mr.. Haddon has sug
gested.” 4
We were alone. But Helena was of
no mind to receive my thanks or my
assurances that I had been absolutely
ignorant that Locke or any other had
been in the stairway.
“Until 12 to-night,” she said.
“Until 12 to-night,” I repeated. I
lifted my hat and walked swiftly to
ward the chateau.
CHAPTER XXII.
The Secret Staircase.
“We trust him to help us in our dif
ficulties.”
i Those were the words Helena had
spoken; she trusted me, who had been
called coward, to accomplish what the
cleverest and bravest man must have
hesitated at promising. For one can
not promise with reason to attempt
successfully the unknown. It was the
vagueness of my mission that made
it so perplexing.
One cannot tear apart lover from
lover as one tears a piece of paper.
And yet, if Sir Mortimer were living
and still enamored of his mistress, I
had promised to attempt even that.
If, on the other hand, Sir Mortimer
were dead, I was to essay a duty even
more difficult: to rescue his great
name from dishonor.
Before midnight, then, there were
two things to be accomplished: I
must know the truth from Madame de
Vamier concerning Sir Mortimer
Brett, whether he were living or dead;
I must rescue Captain Forbes.
It was to be a double duel. The first
to be fought was Madame de Vamier,
the weapons to be of her choosing,
cunning and wit; the second, Dr. Star
va, and he had already shown me
what weapons he preferred.
To arm myself for my fight with him
I supposed would be a simple matter.
But when I made inquiries for a gun
smith’s shop I learned to my dismay
that there was none in Alterhoffen. I
was compelled to return to the cha
teau empty handed.
The terrace was deserted. I crossed
it, close to the castle walls. I intend
ed, if possible, to enter the hall unob
served by the little door under the
winding staircase through which I had
followed Dr. Starva. I looked cau
tiously into the great room through
one of the mullioned windows. No
one was about. Once within the cha
cepted my excuse too readily. At any
rate, I believed the fellow could be
bribed. I demanded carelessly:
‘‘And Dr. Starva? Is he, too, con
fined to bis room?”
The man shrugged his shoulders.
Evidently he held Dr. Starva. in no
great consideration.
‘‘One knows nothing of him. He is
mysterious, this Dr. Starva.”
I looked at the man keenly. The
adjective was significant.
“Everything about this chateau is
mysterious, it seems to me,” I re
marked cheerfully. “Last night, for
instance, i could have sworn I heard
the shout of one in distress.”
“Is it possible, monsieur?”
“And when I retired I found a note
on my pillow. I would give a hundred
francs to the man who placed it there
if I could find him.”
"There is nothing too difficult to be
discovered with diligence, your Excel
lency,” he said softly, his crafty eyes
cast down.
“So you were the faithful messen
ger.” I took out my pocket-book.
“A little letter is a simple thing, and
since it was not sealed. I knew that
madam would not object.” He smiled
greedily on the notes that I had laid
on the table.
“Ah, you are loyal to Madame de
Varnier?”
“Very loyal, monsieur,” he returned
with perfect seriousness.
I intended to test this admirable
loyalty. I was forgetting Captain
Forbes. I proceeded cautiously.
“Am I the only guest of the cha
teau?" I demanded, toying with the
notes.
“There is Dr. Starva, as your Excel
lency knows."
“And he is a man of mystery, you
tell me. I suppose it not impossible
that he has his friends.”
“Friends?” he asked, and he gave to
the word a strange note of uncer
tainty.
“Did not one call on him last night,
just before I retired?”
“I have undei-stood so.”
“And he has come to the chateau as
Dr. Starva's own guest?”
“Certainly, Dr. Starva’s friends have
visited him here occasionally."
“The chateau is so immense that
one would find it difficult to be sure
“Until Twelve To-Night,” She Said.
teau, and the door locked, I gained
my room, and rang the bell for the
servant. Jacques, the lackey who had
shown me to my room the night be
fore, answered the call.
“It is half past one,” 1 cried impa
tiently. “Is Madame de Vamier not
ready for luncheon?”
The man looked his surprise.
“Luncheon has been waiting for
your Excellency. I came to your room
some time ago, but there was no an- j
swer when I knocked.”
“I had been wandering about the
chateau," I replied carelessly. “So
luncheon is ready. I hope I have not
kept Madame de Vamier waiting too
long?"
“Madam begs to be excused. Lunch
eon is served for Dr. Starva and your
self.”
I followed the man to the room
where we had dined, not at all pleased
at the seclusion that she affected. I
was impatient for action. Nearly 12
hours were to elapse before midnight,
but there was much to be done before
then. And if she persisted in not see
ing me, I wondered how I was to
force my presence on her. In the
meanwhile I must attempt to learn
something of Captain Forbes’s deten
tion.
I lunched alone, and well. The ab
sence of Dr. Starva was only to be ex
pected. Even so brazen a villain as
he would hesitate to rneei me with un
concern. During the stmggle in the
porter’s lodge no word had been
spoken by either of us, but certainly
he could not have been ignorant of
my identity any more than was I of
his. When we again met, therefore, it
would be as avowed enemies.
Frankly, I did not look forward to
that meeting with pleasure. The fate
of Captain Forbes pointed too obvious
a moral. I had put myself deliberately
in Starva's power by my return to the
chateau. If I were unmolested it would
be because my services, were indis
pensable.
I had lighted my cigarette. Jacques
was noiselessly gathering up the
things. I had determined to take him
into my confidence. I believed it was
he who had brought me the note. I :
suspected that he was not ignorant of
my leaving the chateau. He had ac
that one knew the whereabouts of all
Its rooms.”
“If I might take the liberty, I should
say that your Excellency would be in
terested in making an inspection of
the chateau. The view from the tow
ers is superb.”
“And these towers are readily ac
cessible?"
Jacques shook his head. “Monsieur
ha^ said that the chateau is immense.
One might find it difficult without a
guide.”
“And you will be that guide,” I said
with assurance.
He shook his head still more vigor
ously. "Impossible! Madam would
object. Besides, there is Alphonse.”
“Alphonse? Who is he?”
“He is madam’s confidential serv
ant.”
“At least you can tell me the way
to the towers.”
“I have never been to the towers,”
the man persisted.
“■then the staircase is concealed?” I
asked sharply, irritated at his hy
pocrisy.
“1 have seen the tapestry near the
gallery move very strangely,” he
blurted out.
Captain Forbes, then, was impris
oned in one of the towers. The stair
case leading thither was concealed be
hind a secret door hidden by a tapes
try. This door was near the gallery.
So far so well. But I remembered
that there was one central tower,
flanked by three smaller towers. In
which of them was Captain Forbes
held a prisoner? I came to the point
directly. To fence with the fellow was
wasting time.
“The rooms in the towers them
selves must be interesting. In me
dieval times they were no doubt used
as dungeons, if there can be dungeons
in the air. In which of these towers
does Dr. Starva usually lodge his
friends ?”
I asked the question not without
trepidation. I was tolerably sure of
my man, but for the moment I feared
that I had overshot the mark. He
poised a tray on his palm and shuffled
hastily to the door, as if he were
frightened at the information he had
already given.
"You have forgotten something,” I
said carelessly, and tapped the notes
on the table. He hesitated; then, re
turning, snatched at them.
“When one has ascended the secret
stairway,” he said in a low voice, “one
finds oneself in a bare room. That is
the central tower. It is a triangle in
shape. At the corners of the triangle
there are three doors opening on three
smaller rooms, the dungeons, as mon
sieur calls them. One of these rooms
is the oratory of madam. Monsieur
knows that madam is very religious.
When madam is not to be seen she is
at her prayers.”
Again ne seized nis tray, dui 1 naa
still another question to ask.
“Which of these rooms is the ora
tory? And in which does Dr. Starva
lodge his friends?”
“But, monsieur, I do not know,” he
stammered, and again seized his tray.
“You know very well, if you think,”
I commanded.
He rubbed his nose, a gesture curi
ously reflective and agitated. He
turned himself about like a top as he
tried, or pretended to try, to remem
ber toward which points of the com
pass the various rooms faced.
“Monsieur knows that the chateau
itself does not face either south, north,
east, or west. The oratory is to the
south. No; it points to the west. The
locked room, Dr. Starva's, that is to
the east. But no—truly, your Excel
lency, it is impossible for me to re
member.”
He fled from the room, the dishes
on his tray rattling in his perturba
tion.
But he had told me much. I knew
that if I could find the secret staircase
to the towers, if I could force open
the door behind the tapestry, I might
bag both my birds with one shot.
Captain Forbes in his prison, or
Madame de Varnier at her prayers—
it was all one to me.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A Terrifying Apparition.
I did not hesitate. There was no
time like the present. This servant
had’tieen false to Madame de Varnier,
false to Dr. Starva. He would betray
me with as little compunction if it
were made worth his while.
I walked slowly up the grand stair
way leading from the hall. I gained
the gallery that ran about the hall,
meeting no one. I pretended to be in
terested in examining the designs of
the tapestry. I tapped the wall as I
moved deliberately along. It seemed
to me quite solid in every direction. I
began to think that Jacques had been
playing with me.
As I stood there hesitating,Alphonse,
the confidential servant of Madame de
Varnier, appeared suddenly before me.
Either his tread had been catlike or
the secret staircase was very near.
I thought I read consternation on
his face. I leaned over the carved
railing of the gallery, gazing dowrn
into the hall.
“Am I not to see Madame de Var
nier before long?”
“I shall tell madam that your Excel
lency is waiting.”
“If you please.”
1 walked carelessly down the long
corridor that led to my room. I closed
the door, but I was careful to hold the
handle in my hand, and in an instant
my eye was at the keyhole.
He had paused irresolutely, looking
down the corridor toward my room.
Evidently he was dismayed at having
been surprised by me. He was hesi
tating whether he should return to
warn Madame de Vanier. Luckily he
did not hesitate long.
He vanished round the corner of
the corridor. In an instant I had fol
lowed him. As he lifted the tapestry
he touched a spring. A door opened
noiselessly.
“One moment, Alphonse.” I cried.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Long Hours in the Sahara
Curavaneers Have Little Rest, Accord
ing to Sailor.
“They oughter start labor anions in
the Sahara desert,” said the sailor.
“You work 21 hours a day there.
That’s too long, ain't it?
“It’s the fashionable fad to winter in
the Sahara, and last January, us lyin’
to in PhiHippeville for a cargo of
dates, I bought a third class ticket to
Biskra, and pushed from there to
Touggourt with a camel caravan.
“It was fine. The sun shone, the air
was like wine, the sand was as white
as salt We seen mirages—phantom
cities', with white domes and minarets,
palm gardens, and girls walkin' on the
flat roofs of the white houses, lookin’
at you with dark, wistful eyes.
“We had a cargo of beer for the
French soldiers In Touggourt, Ghar
daia, Ouargia, and the neighborin’
towns.
“But what I wanted to speak about
was the hours of the caravaneers.
Them poor fellers worked 21 hours
a day. One stop of three hours was
all they took, and part of that time
had to be spent in feedin’ and groomin’
the camels.
“Camels can get along, it seems, with
three hours’ rest a day, but men!
Them caravaneers of ''ourn had little
donks, the size of a Newfoundland
dog, to ride on. and they’d lie on their
stomachs acrost a donk's back, head
hangin’ down on one side, feet on the
other, and in that position they could
sleep hour after hour whilst the donks
trudged on in the sunshine through
the white sand."
Poor Lo.
Gunner—I see where one of the far
western towns is gcing to have In
dians on the police force.
Guyer—How appropriate! I sup
pose they will be referred to as
the “copper colored coppers.”—Chi
cago Daily News.
FOR BLANQUETTE OF VEAL.
Appetizing Dainty That Depends Much
on the Flavoring.
Have three pounds of the best end
of a breast of veal; wipe the surface
with a damp cloth and cut the meat
into pieces two inches square; add
water just to cover the veal; also a
carrot, scraped and cut in quarters,
two small onions, peeled and tied in a
bit of cheese cloth, with a teaspoonful
of celery seed, two branches of
parsley, two cloves and a bit of bay
leaf; cover and let simmer until the
veal is tender (about an hour and a
I half) strain off the broth, discard the
! vegetables, and keep the veal hot.
Melt three tablespoonfuls of butter;
cook in it three tablespoonfuls of flour
i with a little salt and pepper, then add
j the brc*h and stir until the sauce
| boils. Beat the yolks of two eggs;
dilute with half a cup of cream and
j(stir into the sauce; let cook, without
I boiling, stirring constantly until all
is very hot, then stir in the juice of
half a lemon and pour the sauce over
| the veal. Serve at once.
TRY THIS FOR DESSERT.
Cocoa Macaroons Will Be Appreciated
by All Who Partake.
Pass through a sieve together, one
cup of sifted flour, half a cup of
granulated sugar, two level table
spoonfuls of cocoa, half a teaspoon
ful of baking powder, one-fourth a tea
spoonful each of salt and cinnamon,
and one-eighth a teaspoonful each of
cloves, mace and nutmeg; with these
;mix the grated rind of an orange and
one-fourth a cup of flne-chopped cit
ron. Break one egg and the yolk or
white of another into the mixture,
add also a teaspoonful of vanilla ex
tract and mix the whole to a stiff
i dough. With buttered hands roll the
mixture into balls about the size of
hickory nuts, dip one side in granu
lated sugar and set some distance
apart in buttered pans, the sugared
side up. Bake in a quick oven. The
recipe makes 18 macaroons.
is uiean siik loves.
Do not try to clean silk gloves with
gasoline, but wash them very care
fully. White and black ones can be
washed in soap suds, rinsed and dried,
the white ones being dipped into blu
ing water to give them a clear white
appearance. Tinted gloves should first
be soaked in salt water to prevent the
color from fading. If a few drops
of lemon juice are added to the rinsing
water, the tints will be revived. Silk
gloves can be ironed, though a piece
of linen should be placed over the
gloves when they are ironed and only
a moderately warm iron should be
used. Silk hose can be washed in
exactly the same manner and ironed
when perfectly dry.
Walnut Wine.
To a gallon of water put two pounds
of brown sugar and one pound of
honey, boil this mixture for half an
hour, carefully removing all scum;
put into a tub a large handful of wal
nut leaves and pour the hot liquor
upon them; let them stand a night
and then squeeze out the leaves and
put in two yeast cakes; let it work
for a week, stirring four or five times
a day, then stop up the cask and let
stand six months. This is a supposed
remedy for consumption and, as it is
quaintly termed, “all inward com
plaints.”
For the Very Little Ones.
Knitted combination garments or
union suits are being shown for
misses and children as young as three
years. The little pantaloons are fin
ished with a dainty lace frill. These
garments are not only far cooler and
vastly more comfortable for the small
growing bodies, but they represent a
saving of labor which every mother
will be quick to appreciate.
Filling for Cream Puffs.
Wet three tablespoonfuls of flour to
a paste with a little cold water and
stir into a cupful of hot milk. Boil for
a minute, stirring to prevent lumps,
take from the fire and pour, gradually,
upon three beaten eggs and a half-cup
of powdered sugar, whipping these all
the time. Stir over the Are until thick
and smooth, remove, flavor with vanil
la, and, when cold, put into the puffs.
Pudding Sauce.
Warm in a saucepan a quarter pint
,of milk. Mix a dessertspoonful of
cornstarch with a little milk and stir
this into the milk in the saucepan.
Continue stirring until it bolls and is
about as thick as cream, then add a
a dessertspoonful of sugar and a small
piece of butter. Pour this around a
pudding just before serving.
Fried Tomatoes.
Slice the tomatoes into thick pieces
and fry in butter until done. Transfer
to a hot platter, sprinkle with salt
and pepper and keep hot while you
add to the butter in which they were
fried a tablespoonful of flour and a
pint of milk, cook, stirring, to a
smooth, white sauce and pour over
the tomatoes.
Sponge Cake.
Weigh ten eggs, allow their weight
in sugar, and half their weight in
flour. Beat the whites and yolks sep
arate, adding the sugar to the yolks
with the juice and half the grated
peel of a lemon, then the flour, folding
in at the last the stiffened whites.
Bake at once in a loaf-tin in a steady
oven.
German Flour Soup.
Cook together in a frying pan a
tablespoonful of shortening and flour,
and when well blended add a sliced
or minced onion; fry this to a golden
brown, then stir in five cups of soup
| stock or warm water, stir until thick,
pour upon a beaten egg and add salt,
pepper and nutmeg to taste.
Bodkin Substitute.
Safety-pins are good substitutes
when a bodkin is not handy, but easier
: still are corset laces of cotton, linen,
silk or elastic, according to the use
for which they are intended. By
means of the metal ends these can be
used for drawstrings.
Waists Made From Shirts.
The neck bands of shirts usually
are worn out before the bodies. Pretty
and serviceable waists can be made
i for the small boy from these shirts.
POLICE DOGS
^rOF GHENT
RZCRUT'XS'
A . NIGHT “BQBBr'
If you had heard of an old world j
European city which was sufficiently
up to date to employ dogs as po
licemen, and kept veterinary surgeons
at headquarters to look after them,
together with special officers to train
them by means of dummy burglars
and pickpockets, you might well he
surprised. Yet this system has been
in use for years in the picturesque
old city of Ghent, in Belgium; and so
successful have these four-legged of
ficers become that the idea of dog
policemen is finding favor all over
Belgium as well as in France, and in
more than 150 German municipalities
besides.
Indeed, the Prussian minister of the
interior recently sent Herr Laufer,
police commissioner at Schwelm, on a
special mission to Ghent to interview
M. E. Van Wesemaei, police chief of
that city, to whom belongs the credit
of having been the first to initiate
dog-policemen in Europe.
I called upon M. Van Wesemaei
that I might learn from the very foun
tain-head the whole story of these
wonderful dogs, who have not only
been eminently successful as night
“cops,” but have saved the municipali
ty many thousands of francs a year.
On the Anglo-Spanish frontier at Gi
bralter and elsewhere dogs are used
as smugglers; they retrieve game for
sportsmen with wonderful sagacity;
they lead the blind; rescue wayfarers
on the famous St. Bernard, in Switzer
land, and are used in the German
army to flhd the wounded on a battle
field and carry medicines to them.
Therefore, argued the Ghent chief
of police, why not provide our night
patrolmen with four-legged colleagues
who could beat round in waste places,
act as scouts, pursue pickpockets fast
er than any two-legged officer, and
generally give their human colleague
a sense of security and protection?
Moreover, look at the idea from the
point of the malefactor, and you will
see how the dog-policemen positively
prevent crimes which might other
wise be committed. It is possible
enough on a dark night to elude an
ordinary policeman, but a big, power
ful Belgian sheepdog, with more
tricks in his repertory than a first
class juggler—that i3 a very different
matter.
In 1899, the city of Ghent, in which
night-watches of the police have been
thoroughly organized ever since 1854,
resolved upon an increase of the
force. Belgium is a poor country,
and the city’s “budget” was exhaust
ed. Thereupon arose M. Van Wese
mael, and suggested seriously enough
that, if the city couldn’t afford men,
perhaps it could afford dogs.
The city fathers resolved to try the
experiment, at any rate; and in
March, 1899, the “chiens-policiers”
were tried in a small way. They were
particularly wanted for the outskirts
of the town, which were notorious
for violent robberies and no arrests.
Naturally enough, the police avoided
thq?e places, where, alone and far
from help, they were supposed to
deal with bands of armed thugs.
Here are some of the regulations
specially laid down by M. Van Wese
mael: “The police-dogs will be taken
out the moment the night-call rings,
and led back into their kennels at the
morning call, always held in leash.
This last will always be held short,
bo as to prevent the dogs from attack
ing passers-by. Arrived on their beat,
the night police will let loose their
dogs, that they may act as scouts, and
grow accustomed to visiting outlying
houses and farms and isolated quar
ters where prowling criminals may
hide. The dogs will always remain
muzzled during duty. If they give no
tice by barks or growls that they have
found something unusual, the men
will hasten to rejoin them, and re
move their muzzle, which may be
readily done.
“The men will not permit anyone
to coax or caress the dogs, that they
may be accustomed only to obey of
ficers in uniform. The animals must
always be treated with gentleness, but
never petted except by way of reward
for good service rendered. In speak
ing to the dogs a tone of sharp com:
mand must always be used, and the
animals must obey instantly.
“If possible, avoid all chastisement;
and a threat must invariably precede
forcible correction. For, once struck,
the dog may lose his pluck and nerve,
and become even dangerous to the of
ficer with whom he works. The night
police will always prevent the dogs
from picking up bones or eating any
food whatsoever found whilst on duty.
Criminals have already striven to
poison our four-footed colleagues. The
chemicals used for this purpose pro
duce the most terrible and instant
effects.
“However, should one of the dogs
die instantly whilst on duty from this
cause, his body must be taken back
to headquarters at once and examined
by the veterinary chief. During the
winter, and in seasons of rain, snow,
or hail, the dog-policeman must al
ways wear their cloaks.”
Now let us consider how the dogs
are bought, lodged, fed, equipped, and
trained. It is the head vet. of the city
who buys the dogs, and after many
trials choice has definitely lighted
upon the big French and Belgian
shepherd dogs, which possess in a
wonderful degree the qualities of en
durance, courage, boldness, fidelity,
and that subtle sense expressed by the
untranslatable French word “flair.”
Personally, I inspected the “che
nils,” and found the four-legged police
men very comfortably installed in
huts'or kennels of wood and brick,
out in the pretty garden of the central
servants appointed to their needs in
the person of the concierge and his
wife.
The dogs are kept in theae kennels
all day, and never go out save for a
little exercise in the garden of the
bureau. The great thing is to keep
them unfamiliar with the ordinary un
uniformed public.
They go on duty at ten o’clock at
night, and come home at six in the
morning. Thus they put in eight
hours of service without rest. They
receieve two meals a day, the first at
seven o’clock in the morning, and the
second at seven o’clock at night. The
menu presented to the dog-police
would surely make a hobo's mouth
water. There is soup and meat, rice,
bread and other minor courses. This
allowance is found abundant, and the
maintenance of each dog costs about
six cents a day. M. Van Wesemael
estimates that these 30 dogs he em
ploys in the central part of the city
cost annually 3,285 francs. He points
that if the force had been augmented
by only 12 additional night guardians
—and such addition became absolute
ly necessary—the police budget would
have been increased by 12,000 francs
a year, and yet the service secured
would not have been anything like
so complete as that rendered by the
dogs.
Each recruit receives a brass collar
bearing a zinc police-medal, on which
is inscribed his name and the date of
his birth. He also receives a cot or
cloak, and a muzzle so constructed
that it can be instantly removed,,
thanks to an elastic arrangement con
nected with the leash.
During the first fortnight recruits
are kept closely within the kennels,
and forced to obey orders. Next a
policeman will take them out for a
few days so as to make them familiar
with the various beats, whiBtle-calls,
and other signals. Every one of the
night police, when there is a new re
cruit to be trained, receives a scrap
of liver, which he gives to the new
comer, so that every man in uniform
appears to the dog as a true friend.
For one month this apprenticeship
stage lasts from two to four hcurB
every night, and at last the recruit
is able to put in his eight hours with
the rest, and act as scout, and obey
all commands to attack, pursue, leap,
swim, walk behind, ahead, or at the
side, etc.
The whole education is directed by
a “brigadier-controleur,” who, how
ever, is invariably in plain clothes;
and it is he who simulates attacks
upon the officers, still further to
heighten their antipathy to non-uni
formed persons.
W. G. FITZGERALD.
ONE OF BOYHOOD’S TRIALS.
Cauae of Youth Longing for Wild, Free
Life of the Plains.
The scene is at the steps of the
Crow school. Characters, nine-year
old child, rigged out in a woman’s blue.
petticoat and blue shirt waist and
crying; irate father, threatening to
thrast “kid” if he does not go to
school; crowd of “kids" guying other
one about costume; small gathering
near by of school girls, ages ranging
from 14 to 16 years, quietly weeping
and discussing the shame of the
father compelling a boy to attend
school in such a “makeup.”
The little victim, according to one
cf the girls, went to Handlan’s park
Sunday to “see the circus come in.”
He got in the way of a bunch of tent
poles and was knocked over in the
mud, badly soiling his suit, the only
one he possessed. When he got home
the verdict cf the head of the house
hold was that he go to school one day
in his mother's clothes. With many
misgivings, the boy’s mother finally^
got him dressed and started him off.
The “old man” followed to see that
the boy went to school. Everything
went along smoothly until the boy
reached the front steps and was spied
by his mates. Then came the signal
for action, with the above result. All
that could be learned of the boy by the
sympathetic girls was that his name
was Willie and that he lived some
where on North Eleventh street.—St.
Louis Globe-Democrat.
The Newest Device.
“All of the boards have been tom
from your fence, sir.”
“What's left?”
“The posts and one rail around."
“Very well.”
“Shall we mend it?”
“Certainly not. it's all the go
now.”
“What’s all the go?”
“Why, don’t you* see—I _ fyave a
monorail fence.”—Cleveland. Ir'laln
Dealer.
•, -- *•» - * ;-_is8m*c •
Some Kind.
“Has’he a kind facet” ..i,
-“Yes, hut I don't know wbatfciBd,”
—Cleveland Plain Dealer, <