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When Mr. A. V. R. E. Jones Aver
ago Jones, his friends called him
complained that he had n craving to
taka part In the dynamic activities of
life and was hampered by the neces
sity of spending his dead uncle's mil
lions In New York, Waldemar, the
owner of an Important and decent
newspaper, told him to go In for fal
lowing up queer advertisements In the
newspapers, and that he would pay
for tracing down fraudulent advertis
ers. The first ad that attracted Jones
was this one:
WANTEb-PISKKOIlMKIl ON II-FI.AT
trombono. Can uo nt onco. Apply with
IriHtrtimunt after 1 p. ni., 900 Ham 100th
treet.
And this Is the story of the ad:
"Ad-Visor! Do you expect mo to
blight my budding career by a poison
ous pun like that?" demanded Averago
Jonea with a wry face.
"It mny bo a poisonous pun, but It's
an arresting catch-word," said Walde
mar, unmoved. "Slnglo column, about
fifty lines will do It, iu nlco opon stylo.
Caps and lower caao, and black-faced
typo for tho namo and tltlo. Insert
twlco a week In every Now York and
Brooklyn papor."
"Snppoao, then, I do burst Into flamo
to this effect?" qucrlod tho prospec
tive "Ad-Visor." "Et nprqs? as wo
proudly say after spending a week rn
Paris."
"Aprcs? Oh, plonty of UUngB.
YoUll bo flooded," promised Waldo
mar. "And between times I'm to go skip
ping about, chasing B-flat trombones,
I suppose."
"You'll havo no tlnio for skipping.
Within six months, If you'ro not sand
baggod or Jailed on fako libel suits,
you'll havo a unique bibliography of
swindles. Then I'll begin to como and
buy your knowledgo to keep my own
columns clean."
Tho Bpcakor looked up to meet tho
gozo of an Iron-gray man with a harsh,
Ballow faco.
"Excuso my Interrupting," said tho
new-comer. "Just one question, Wul
demar. Who's going to bo tho nomi
nee?" "Kinder."
"Under? Surely not! His federal
Job?"
"Ho resigns In two wcoks."
"His record will kill him."
"What record? You and I know
no's a grafter. Hut can wo provo any
thing? Ills clerk haB ulways handled
ull tho money."
"Wasn't thoro un old scandal a
woman caso?" asked tho questioner
vaguoly.
"That Washington man's wifo? Too
old. Under would deny It flatly, uml
there would bo no witnesses. Tho
woman Is dead killed by his brutal
treatment of her, they say. Hut tho
wholo thing was hushed up nt tho tlmo
by Llndcr's pull, and when tho him
band threatened to kill him Under
quietly set a comiutssionor of insanity
on tho caso and had tho man put
away. Ho'b novor appeared Blnco. No,
that wouldn't bo politically effective"
Tho gray man nodded and walkod
away, musing.
"Egbert, tho traction boss," ex
plained Waldemar. "Wo'ro generally
on opposito Bides, but this tlmo wo'ro
both against Lindor, Egbert wants a
cheaper man for mayor. I want u
Btratghtcr ono. And I could got him
tblB year If Under wasn't s) well for
tified. However, to get back to our
project, Mr. Jones"
Get back to it thoy did with such
absorption that when tho group broke
up, Boveral hours later, Average
Jones was committed, by plan and
rote, to tho now and hopoful advon
turo of Llfo. What tlmo tho Honor
able William Under matured his do
signs on tho mayoralty, Averago
Jones sat In a suite of olllccs In As
tor court, a location which Waldemar
bad advised as being central, oxpon
slvo and Inspirational of confidence,
and considered, with a whirling brain,
the minor woes of humanity. It wns
bard, honeBt study and helpfuj toll
rather than tho romance and adven
ture which bo bad hopod for, until, In
a quiet street In Drooklyn, of which
he had novor so much as beard, tbero
befell that which mvo Averago Jones
JONK
1 Samuel
Hopkins
lams
is
a part in tho greater drama of tho
metropolis. Tho party of tho second
part wob tho Honorublo William Un
der. Mr. Under sat at five p. m of an
early summer day, behind lock and
bolt. Tho third floor front room of
his ornnto mansion on Brooklyn's park
slopo was dedicated to peaceful
thought. Sprawled In a hugo and soft
ly upholstered chair nt tho window,
ho took his caso In his houso. The
chair had been a recent gift from nn
anonymous admirer whoso political
necessities, tho Honorablo Mr. Under
idly surmised, had not yet driven him
to reveal bis identity. Its occupant
stretched his shoeless feet, as wus Ms
custom, upon tho broad window-sill,
flooded by tho seasonable warmth of
sunshine, tho whtlo ho considered tho
ripening mayoralty situation. He
found it highly satisfactory, rn tho
languago of Ills Inner man, It wns n
cinch.
llclow, In Konnard street, a solitary
musician plodded. Ills pretzel-shaped
brass rested against his Bhoulder. His
upward glance encountered tho promi
nent feet In tho third-story window of
tho Under mansion, and rested. Oppo
sito tho window ho paused. Ho raised
tho mouthpiece to his lips aid em
barkod on a perilous sea of notes
from which tho tutored ear might havo
inferred that onco popular ditty,
"Egypt."
Lovo of music was not ono of tho
Honorablo William Liuder's attributes.
An Irasclblo tomper was. Tho master
of tho mansion lenred from his rest
ful chair. Whero his feet had orna
monted tho coping his faco now ap
peared. Far out he leaned, and roared
at tho musician bolcw:
"Go away! Move on!"
Tho musician smlloJ reassuringly.
"I got already paid for this," ho ex
plained. Up went tho brass' to his lips again.
Tho tonal stairway which leadB up to
tho choruB of "Egypt" roso in rasping
wallfulness. It culminated In nn ox
cosslve, unendurable, brazen shriek
and tho Honorablo William hinder ex
perienced upon tho undefended rear
of his person tho moBt violent kick of
a llfctimo :iot nlways devoted to tho
arts of peace. It projected him clear
of tho window sill. An awning Inter
cepted tho politician's flight. Ho passed
through this, penetrated a second nnd
lny placid on his owr. front steps with
thrco ribs caved in anil a vuriegated
fracturo of tho collar bone. liy tho
tlmo tho descent waB on.ied tho Ger
man musician had tucked his brass un
der his nrm and was hurrying In panic
down tho street, Lis ears still ringing
with tho concussion which had blown
tho angry householder from his own
front window. Ho was Intercepted by
u running pollcop.nn.
"Como along back. You for a wit
ness! Como on; you nn' ycr horn."
"It Ihh not n ham," explained tho
Gorman patiently, "It iss a U-llat trom
bone." Along with soveral million other
readors, Average Jones followed tho
Under "bomb outrage" through tho
scandalized headlines of tho local
press. Tho perpetrator, declared tho
excited Journals, had been skillful. No
oluo was loft. Tho explosion had
taken caro of that. Tho pollco hung
tenaciously to tho theory thut tho mu
sician was Involved, chlolly becauso
thoy had nothing else to hang to. Tho
explosion had been very localized, tho
room not gcnorallv wrecked; but tho
chair which seemed to bo tho center
of disturbance, nnd from which tho
Honorable William Under had risen
Just in tlmo to buvo his llfo, wns blown
to pieces, and a portion of tho floor
beneath it wns shattered. Tho force
of tho explosion had boon from nbovo
tho floor downward; not up through
tho flooring. As to murderously in
clined foes, Mr. Undor disclaimed
knowlodgo of any. Tho notion that
tho trombonist had given n signal he
derided as nn "Old Sleuth plpodrcam."
Average Jones, who was much occu
pied with n pair of blackmailers op
erating through fuked photographs,
about that time, had almost forgotten
tho Under caso when, ono day, a
month after tho explosion, Waldemar
dropped In at tho Astor court offices.
Ho found a changed Jones; much thin
ner nnd "finer" than when, olght weeks
bofore, ho had embarked on his now
career, at tho nowspnpor owner's in
stance. Tho young man's color wns
Iouh pronounced and his eyes, though
alert nnd eager, showed rlugs under
them.
"You havo found tho work interest
ing, 1 take It," remarked tho visitor.
"Ha-athcr," drawled Averago Johob
appreciatively. "You haven't run
ncross uny promising adB lately, have
you?"
Waldemar's wide, florid brow wrin
kled. "I haven't thought or dreamed of
nnythlng for u mouth but this infernal
bomb explosion. It makes Llndcr's
nomination certain. Persecution. At
tempted assaHslnutlon. Ho becomes a
near-martyr."
'Thoy let tho musician go, didn't
thoy?"
"Yes. Thoro waB absolutely no proof
ngalnBt him, except that he was in tho
street below. Besides, ho Bcomod
qulto lacking montully."
"Well, if I needed nn accomplice,"
said Averago Jones thoughtfully, "1
wouldn't want any better ono than n
half-witted man. Did he play well?"
"Atrociously. And If you know what
a soul-shuttering blaro exudes from a U
flat tromblno " Mr. Waldemar lifted
expressive hands.
Within Averago Jones' overstocked
mind something stirred at tho repeti
tion of tho words "B-llat trombono."
Somowhoro thoy had attracted his no
tice In print. Then from amidst tho
hundreds of advertisements with
which, in tho past weeks, he had
crowded his brnln, ono stood out clear.
Averago Jones mndo two steps to a
bookcuse, took down a hugo scrap
book from an alphabetized row and
turned tho leaves rapidly.
"Thrco Hundred East Ono Hun
dredth street," said ho, slamming tho
book Bhut again. "Three Hundred East
Ono Hundredth. You won't mind, will
you" to Wnldomnr "if I leave you
unceremoniously?"
"Recalled n forgotten engagement?"
asked tho other, rising.
"Yes. No. I mean I'm going to
Harlem to hear somo music. Thirty
fourth's tho nenrest station, Isn't it?
Thanks. So long."
Waldemar rubbed his head thought
fully as the door slammed behind tho
speeding Ad-Visor. , .
"Now, what kind of a tuno is ho on
tho track of, I wonder?" ho mused. "I
wish it hadn't struck him until I'd
had tlmo to go over the Under busi
ness with him."
Thrco Hundred East Ono Hundredth
street is n houso decrepit with a dis
ease of tho aged. To Averago Jones'
Inquiring gazo on this summer day it
apposed tho secrecy of a senllo Indif
ference. An old lady como to tho door. Sho
wns slock and placid, round and com
fortable. Sho did not seem to bolong
in that houso at all. Averago Jones
felt as If ho had cracked open una of
tho grisly locust shells which cling
llfolossly to trco trunks nnd bad found
within a plump and prosperous bcetlo.
"WaB nn advertisement for a trom
bono player inserted from this houso,
ma'nm?" ho inquired.
"Long ngo," said she.
"Tho person who Inserted tho adver
tlsomcnt "
"Has loft. A month Blnco. Left no
address."
"His name wob Telford, wasn't it?"
said Averago Jones strategically.
"Might bo." said tho old lady, who
had evidently formed nc favcrablo Im
pression of her ox-lodger. "But ho
called himself Hansom. Ho had the
wholo third floor, furnished."
"Is it let now?"
"Part of It. Tho rear."
"I'll tako tho front room."
"You'ro a very 'queer young man.
Aro you a B-llat trombono player?"
"I collect 'em," Bald Averago Jones.
"References?" said tho old lady
abruptly and with suspicion.
"All varieties," replied her prospec
tive lodger cheerfully. "I will bring
'em tomorrow with my grip."
For flvo successive evenings there
after Averago Jones sat in tho senllo
houso, awaiting personal responso to
tho following advertisement which ho
had inserted in the Universal:
WANTED 11-FLAT TnOMBONIST
Mtlit hnvo had experience as street
pluer. Apply between 8 and 10 p. in.
H-, 300 Uusl 100th Btreet.
Between tho ebb nnd flow of appli
cant musicians ho read exhaustively
upon tho unnlllcd subjects of trom
bones and high explosives, or talked
with his landlady, who proved to bo a
soclablo person, not disinclined to dls
cubb tho dopnrted guest. "Ransom,"
his supplautcr learned, had como light
and gono light. Two dress suit casos
hud sufficed to bring in ull his belong
ings. Ho went out but little, and then,
sho opined with a disgustful sniff, for
purposea strictly alcoholic. Parcels
camo for him occasionally. Those woro
usually lubcled "Glass. Handle with
caro." Oh! thcro was ono other thing.
A hugo, easy nrmchalr from Cnrruth
crs & Co., mighty luxurious for nn
olght-dollnr lodger. After ho hail been
hero nwhllu ho had a man como in and
box it up.
"Was this beforo or after tho trom
bono players camo?"
"Long after. It was after ho had
picked out his roan and had him up
horn practicing."
"Did or you over or boo this
musician?" drawled Averago Jones in
tho Blow tones of his pocullnr oxclto
mont. "What was ho like?"
"Ho was a stupid old Gorman. I al
ways thought ho was a sort of a nat
ural." "Yo3?" Averago Jones peered out of
tho window. "Is this tho man coming
up tho street?"
"It surely is," said tho old lady.
."Now, Mister Jones, if bo commence!
his blaring nnd Matting nnd"
"There'll bo no more music, ma'nm,"
promised the young nan, laughing, ns
shn went out to answer tho door-bell.
Tho musician, UBhored in, looked
about him, nn expression of bowlldcred
nnd childish surprlso on his rabbit
llko face.
"I am Schlichtlng," ho murmured;
"I como to piny tho B-flat trombono."
"Glad to see you, Mr. Schlichtlng,"
said Average Jones, lending tho wny
upstairs. "Sit down."
Tho visitor put hlB trombono down
and shook bis head with conviction.
"It Iss tho same room, yes," he ob
served. "But It Iss not tho sumo gent,
no."
"You expected to find Mr. Ransom
hero? Mr. Hansom, tho gentleman
who employed you to piny in tho Btreet
in Brooklyn?"
Mr. Schlichtlng mado largo and ex
pnnsivo gestures. "It Iss a pleasuro to
play for such a gent," he said warmly.
"Two dollars a day."
"You lmvo played often In Brooklyn?
Whero the fat gentleman told you to
stop nnd foil out of tho window?"
A look of fenr overspread tho worn
and innocent foco.
"I don't go thero no more. Tho po
lice, thoy tako mo."
"But you had gono thoro before?"
"Not to play; no."
"Not to play? Aro you Bure?"
Tho German considered painfully.
"Ttcro vass no feet In tho window,"
ho explained, brightening.
Upon thnt surprising phraso Aver
age Jones pondered. "You wero not to
play unless thcro were feet in tho win
dow," ho said nt length. "WaB that
t?"
Tho musician assented.
"It docs look like a signal to show
that Under was In," mused tho inter
rogator. "Do you know Mr. Under?"
"I don't know nothing only to piny
tho B-flat trombono," repented the
other patiently.
"Now, Schlichtlng." snld Average
Jones, "hero Is a dollar. Every eve
ning you must como hero. Whether I
nm here or not, thero will bo a dollar
for you. Do you understand?"
By way of answer tho German
reached down and lifted his instru
ment to his lips.
"No, not for thnt," forbade Averago
Jones. "Put it down." i
"Not to play my B-flat trombono?"
asked tho other, lnnoccntly'hurt. "Tho
other gent ho mako mo play hero al
ways." . ) '
"Did he?" drawled Jones. "And ho
or listened?"
"Ho listened from out thero." Tho
musician pointed to tho other room.
"Always. Ar.d I play 'Egypt.' Llko
this." ' " " '
"No!" said Averago Jones, nB tho
other stretched out a hopeful hand.
"Ho liked It 'Egypt,' " said tho Ger
man wistfully. "Ho said: 'Bravo! En
core! Bis!' Sometimes nine, somo
times ten times over I play it, tho
chorus."
"And then ho sent you homo?"
"Then sometimes something goes
'splng-g-gg-g!' liko that in tho back
room. Then ho comes out and I may
go homo."
"tlm-ra," muttered Averago Jones
discontentedly. "When did you begin
to play In tho street?"
"After n long time. Ho tako mo away
to Brooklyn and tell mo, 'When you
seo tho feet Iss in tho window you play
hard!'"
Thero was a long pause. Then Av
erago Jones asked casually:
"Did you ever notlco a big easy chair
hero?"
"I do not notlco nothing. I play my
B-flat trombono."
And thero his limitations wero es
tablished. But tho old lady had some
thing to ndd.
"It's nil true that ho said," sho con
firmed. "Tho noxt thing," said Averago
Jones, "Is (o find out whero that big
easy chair went from hero. Can you
help mo thcro?"
Tho old lady shook hor head. "All
I can do is to tell you tho nearby truck
man." Canvass of tho local trucking indus
try brought to light tho conveyor of
thut elegant nrtlclo of furniture ' It
had gono, Averago Jones learned, not
to tho mansion of tho Honorablo Wil
liam Under, ns ho had fondly hoped,
but to an obscuro address not far from
tho navy yard in Brooklyn. To this ad
dress, having looked up and gathered
In tho B-llat trombonist, Averago
Jones led tho wny. Tho pair lurked
in tho neighborhood of tho ramshacklo
houso watching tho entrnnco, until to
ward evening, as tho door opened to
lot out a tremulous wreck of a man,
palsied with debauch, Schlichtlng ob
served: "That iss him. Ho hass been drink
ing ngaln onco."
Average Jones hurried tho musician
around the corner into concenlment.
"It comes to this," drawled Average
Jones Intently, looking tho omployeo
between his vacuous eyes. "Ransom
shipped tho chair to Plymouth street
nnd from thero to Llndcr's houso. Ho
figured out that Llnder would put it in
Ills study and do his sitting at tho
window in it. And you wero to know
when ho was thoro by seeing his feet
in tho window, and givo tho signal
when you saw him. It must havo been
a signal to somebody pretty far off, or
ho wouldn't havo chosen so loud nn
instrument as n B-flat trombono."
"I can play tho B-flat trombono loud
er as any man in tho business," assort
ed Schlichtlng with proud conviction.
"But what gotB me," pursued Aver
ago Jones, "Is tho purpose of tho sig
nal. Whom was It for?"
"I don't know nothing," said tho
othor complacently. "I only know how
to play tho B-flut trombono louder as
any man in tho world "
Average Jones paid him a lump sum,
dismissed him nnd returned to tho Cos
mic club, there to ponder the problem.
Absorbed, he failed to notlco that tho
club was filling up boyond Its wont. A
hand fell on his shoulder.
"Hello, Average Haven't seen you
nt a Saturday special night since you
started your hobby."
It was Bertram, tho club Idler.
"What's on?" Averago Jones nsked
htm, shaking bauds.
"Freak concert. Waldemar is at our
tnble. Como and Joi.i us."
Conversation at. tho round-tnblo wns
general and Ilvel.- that evening, nnd
not until tho port camo on tho pride
ful club port, served only on special
occasion and In wonderful, delicate
glasses did Average Jones get nn op
portunity to spenk to Waldemar aside.1
"I've been looking into that Under
matter a little. You spoko of nn old
scandal In Llndcr's career. What was
tho husband's namo?"
"Arbuthnot, I bellove."
"What waa his business?"
"Government employment, I think."
"In the or scientific lino, per
haps?" drawled Jones.
"Why, yes, I bolievo it wns."
"Well, it's only n chance; but if I
can get ono dark point cleared up"
Ho paused ns n curious, tingling
note enmo from tho platform whero
tho musicians wero tuning up. Tho
performer nearest them was running
a slow bass scale on a sort of two
stringed horsc-flddlo of a strnngo
shape. Averago Jones' still untouched
glass, almost full of tho precious port,
trembled and sang a llttlo tcntativo
response. Up up up mounted tho
thrilling notes, in crescendo force.
"Whut a melting Bort of tone, for all
its Bweetness!" said Averago Jones.
Ills delicate and fragile port glass evi
dently shared tho opinion, for, with
out further warning, it Bpllt nnd shiv
ered. "They used to show that experiment
in tho laboratory," said Bertram. "You
must havo had Just tho accurate
amount of liquid In tho glass, Average.
Move bnck, you lunatic, it's dripping
all over you."
But Averago Jones sat unheeding.
Tho liquor dribbled down into his lap.
Ho kept his fascinated gazo fixed on
tho shattered glass. Bertram dabbed
at him with n napkin.
"Tha a nks, Bertram," drawled
tho beneficiary of this attention.
"Doesn't matter. Excuso mo. Good
night." Leaving his surprised companions,
ho took hat nnd enno nnd caught a
Third nvonuo car. By tho time ho had
rouched' Brooklyn brldgo ho had his
campaign mapped out. It all depend
ed upon tho opening question. Aver
ago Jones decided to hit out and hit
quick.
At tho houso near tho navy yard ho
learned that hlo man was out. So ho
sat upon tho front steps while one of
the highest-priced wines in New York
dried into his knees. Shortly beforo
Have
Thousands have.
Thousands will be.
They're Laying for
You.
Who?
The Crooks who
Advertise.
A. Jones
Ad-Visor
Can Protect You
Against Them.
Before Spending Your
Money Call on Him.
Advice on all Subjects
Connected with News-
Super, Magazine or
lisplay Advertising.
Free Consultation to
Persons Unable toPay.
Call or Write, Inclos
ing Postage. Thii h
On The Level.
Jones, Ad-VUor.
You
Been
Stimg?
?
The, Ad of Average Jones.
eleven n shuffling figure paused nt tho
stops, feeling for a key.
"Mr. Arbuthnot, othorwiso Ran
som?" said Averago Jones blandly.
The man's chin Jerked back. His
jaw dropped.
"Would you llko to hire another B
flat trombonist?" pursued tho young
man.
"Who aro you?" gasped tho other.
"What do you want?"
"I want to know," drawled Averago
Jones, "how or you nnted tho
glass bulb cr tho sulphuric acid
bulb, you know in tho chair that you
sent or to tho Honorablo William
Llnder, so that or It wouldn't bo
shattered by anything but tho mlddlo
C of n B-flat trombono?"
Tho man sat down weakly and
bowed his faco in his hands. Present
ly ho looked up.
"I don't caro," ho said. "Como in
side." At tho end of nn hour's talk Arbuth
not, alias Hansom, ngrocd to every
thing that Average Jones proposed.
"Mini you," ho said, "1 don't prom
lso I won't kill him later. But mean
time It'll bo somo satisfaction to put
him down and out politically. You can
find mo hero nny tlmo you wnnt mo.
You say you'll seo Llnder tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow," said Averago Jones
"Look In tho next day's papers for tho
rosult."
Sotting his tcolphono recolver down,
tho Honorablo William Llnder lost
hlmsolf In conjocturo. Ho had just
given an appointment to his tried and
true, but qulto Impersonal enomy, Mr.
Horace Waldemar.
"What can Wnldemar want of mo?"
ran his thoughts. "And who is this
friend, Jones, that he's bringing?
Jones? Joiicb! Jones?!" Ho tried it in
thrco different accents, without ex
tracting nny particular meaning there
from. Nothing much in tho political
game," ho decided.
"It was with a mingling of gruffneeu
nnd dignity that ho greeted Mr. Walde
mar nn hour Inter, and turned to rocot
Averago Jones' steady gazo and mildly-inquiring
smile.
"Do you er know anything of sub
marine mines, Mr. Llnder?" drawled
tho visitor.
"Huh?" returned tho Honorable Wil
liam Under, startlod.
"Submarine mines," explained tho
other. "Mines In tho sea, if you
wish words of ono sylinblc."
The lids of tho Honorablo Lindor
contracted.
"You're in tho wrong Joint," he raid,
"this ain't tho Naval college."
"Thank you. A submarine is n very
ingenious affair. I've recently boon
reading somcwhnt extensively on tho
subject. The ipnln charge Is somo
high explosive, usually of tho dynamite
type. Above it is n smull jar of sul
phuric ncld. Teeth, working on lovers,
surround this jar. Tho levers project
outside tho mine. When n ship strikes
tho mine, ono or more of tho lovers nro
pressed In. Tho teeth crtibh tho Jar.
Tho sulphuric acid drops upon tho
main charge and cxploJes it. Do you
follow mo?"
"I'll follow you as far as the front
door," said the politician balefully. Ho
roso.
"If tho chargo wero in a chair, in tho
cushion of nn easy chair, we'll say, on
tho third floor of a houso in Brook
lyn" Tho Honorablo William Under sat
down again. He sat heavily.
"the problem would bo somewhat
different. Of course, it would bo ensy
to arrango that tho 11 rut person to sit
down In tho chair would, by bis own
woight, blow himself up. But the first
person might not bo tho right perron,
you know. Do you still follow mo?"
The Honorable William Llnder made
a remark like a fish.
"Now, wo have, if you will forgive
my professorial method," continued
Average Jones, "a chnlr sent to a gen
tleman of prominence from an anony
mouB source. In this chair Is a charge
of high explosive and above it a glass
bulb containing sulphuric acid Tho
bulb, wo will assume, is so safeguard
cd as to resist any ordinary shock ol
moving. But when this gentleman,
sitting at caso in his chair, is noticed
by a trombonist, placed for that pur
Pobo in the street below"
"Tho Dutch horn-player!" cried tho
politician. "Then it was him; nnd
I'll"
"Only an innocent tool," interrupted
Averago Jones, in his turn. "Ho hud
no comprehension of what bo was do
ing. He didn't understand that tho vi
bration from his trombono on one par
ticular note of the slido un ilin Rrnln
as In tho choruB of 'Egypt' would
shiver that glass and set off the
charge. All that ho knew was to play
tho B-flat trombono and tako his pay."
"His pay?" Tho question leaped to
tho politician's lips. 'Who paid him?"
"A man named or Arbuthnot?"
drawled Averago Jonc3.
Llndcr's eyes did not drop, but a
film seemed to bo drawn over them.
"You onco knew cr a Mrs. Ar
buthnot?" Tho thick shoulders quivered a lit
tle. "Hor husband her widower Is In
Brooklyn. Shall I push tho argument
any further to convince you that jou'd
better drop out of tho mayoralty
race?"
Llnder recovered himself a llttlo.
"What kind of a game nro you ringing
in on mo?" ho demanded.
"Don't you think," suggested Aver
age Jones sweetly, "thut considered ns
news, this"
Lindor caught the word out of Mb
mouth. "News!" ho roared. "liven
your dirty paper, Waldemar, wouldn't
rako thnt kind of muck up after ten
years. It'd bo n boomerang. You'll
havo to put up a stronger line of black
mail and bluff than that"
"Blackmail is perhaps tho correct
word technically," admitted the iiowb
papor owner, "but bluff thero you go
wrong. You'vo forgotten one thing;
that Arbuthnot'o arrest and confession
would mako tho wholo story'nowa. Wo
Btnnd ready to arrest Arbuthnot, and
ho stands ready to confess."
Thero was a long, tense minute of
sllonce. Then
"What do you want?" Tho straight-to-thc-polnt
question was un admission
of defeat.
"Your announcement of withdrawal.
I'd rather print that than tho Arbuth
not story."
Thero was a long silence. Finally
tho Honorablo William Under dropped
his hand on tho table, palm up.
"You wiu," ho declared curtly. "Did
you dopo this out, young fellow?"
"Yes."
"Well, you'vo put mo in tho Down-and-Out
club, nil right. And I'm Just
curious enough to want to know how
you did it."
"By abstaining," roturned Averago
uui.ua cryptically, "from tho best wine
thnt over camo out of tho Cosmic club
collar."
(CopyilKht. Tho Ilobbs-Merrlll Company.)
Heard on tho Train.
First Man (with mngazluo) What a
tremendous number of stories Pcnloy
Norrls turns out.
Second Man Doos ho! Thoy nay
ho uses an incubator to batch Mb
plots.
In the Matrimonial Mart.
"Ever lost anything In speculation,
old man?"
"Ye3; I sront considerable tlmo
speculating on my chanccB of winning
an heiress and lost"
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