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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 24, 1924)
rrri TJ I • .4 By MELVILLE DAVISSON POST Have You Ever Been Surprised How 1 he Hole in the Ulass Illustrated by HUBERT MATHIEU Some Women Can Show Their Love? I looked carefully at the girl as 1 vent up the stairway. I must have delayed my compan * ij^i. behind me, far I went slowly and with' the wish to retain every detail of this picture. It was so conspicu ously in life what I had heard of these Americans; this idle, decadent breed of women; soft, steeped in lux ury, and useless. The girl sat in the hotel drawing loom, visiblo from the staircase. ■J It was early in the afternoon. The place was nearly deserted. The hunt ing folk, assembled here in Somerset, were all at a distant meet of ,the hounds at Haddon; in the saddle from dawn and until the night should fall. But this soft creature sat In a great chair piled tip with cushions; and an immense American motor awaited her outside. The fur coat thrown open among the cushions of trie chair must have cost a fortune; the smart gown was from a Paris shop on the Hue de la Palx; the very Pekinese dog in the hollow of her arm was worth the price of a polo pony at Tatterhall’s. It wasn't so much these evidences of luxury that Impressed me. One may have the best, if one is able. It was the conspicuous effect of these things on their possessor. The girl was quite young, about 20, I imagine: a. blonde, slender and dainty, with big blue eyes and an exquisite moutli. For a doll she was perfect; but for any mortal use as a woman she was an absurdity. I broke out with what I thought when we were in my sitting-room on the floor above. ! "Did you see that girl, Barclay?” The big man turned about and looked at me with a rather strange k expression; I thought he was going 1 to make some comment. But he evi dently decided to reserve It. “Yes. Pir James—Do you know who she is?” ‘"I know what she is," I replied: "she’s a hothouse orchid, and about f' as useful In the world as the Pekin F ese dog 1n her lap.” Barclay squinted at me. He Is a big man with a face wrinkled by the tropics. "Don’t be deceived about the Pek inese dog. Sir James.” be said’, "the Pekinese dog’s all right. ITe’e kept in every shop in China to warn against thieves—you can’t slip in on a Pekinese dog.” "Dash the dog!" I replied. It * the girl. T mean; of what earthly use could such a soft creature be to any body!" Barclay looked down at me. T thought the strange expression on his face was even more peculiar. "A silk rope looks soft," he said, •and It Is soft; but it’s the strongest rope there is." _ "I don't know what bally rubbish you're talking," I replied, "but I know you're ail right, or Marquis wouldn't have taken you Into Africa with him. Marquis is no fool, if he is chief of the Criminal Investigating Department of Scotland Yard. And lie wouldn't write me now to take you on this expedition.' "I’m pretty good stuff for such a job. Sir James," he went on; "but I’m not the best stuff for it." I suppose I looked a bit puzzled at this, and Barclay saw it. He turned and went over beyond our big table, which was covered with maps. I think we had assembled every map In existence on Central Africa. I meant to have a year’s big game bunting in the heart of that continent. When I wrote Marqula for a man, he indicated Barclay; and I had him down here at this hotel in Somerset to plan out the route. Barclay sat down In a chair beyond the table. But he wasn't thinking of the maps. “Do you know.” he said, "why Sir Henry Marquis went into Central Africa?" "After young Winton, wasn't he?" I replied. "He'd taken a shot at his uncle, old Brexford. and got out of the country, as I remember. I sup pose Marquis thought the reputation ofvScotland Yard was at stake. Had to find Winton, you know. Did you find him?” Barclay got up, spread out one or the maps and put hla finger on a point on It. "Wo found him right here, on thin plateau on the old elephant trail. But If we’d been a little later we'd nev er found him. If he’d got Into that immense forest to the south, he'd been out of Marquis's reach. Our expedl * 'lion was fagged; I had a touch of the aun. We couldn't have gone on." The man'# voice grew firm. "You have got to keep the aun out if your face; a helmet and a spine pad iren’t enough—the open road to the •rain, for a sun’s ray, la through the ■ye and the eponge bones of the face. He made a sort of bob of the head lawower/J toward the drawingroom. •*;v»r see this girl before, BTr .fames? “Used to see her at polo at Hur ingham," T, replied, "on tne days Itugby played. This young Wlnton vaa on the team—wanted to marry ,er, didn't he? Wasn't that the row .uth old Brexford?” "yes," Barclay said. "It all started \from that. Brexford hated Americana; ■■•Jpuldn't hear of It; went Into a dev il's fury; stopped at nothing!" •'5}o young Wlnton took a pot. shot i Mm. and cleared, eh," Barclay didn't seem to regard my , otnment. He went on In a sort of of led Ion: "But there was one thing I couldn't understand. Why didn't he uke the girl with him—that Is, I • ouldn't understand It st the time.” I laughed. "I can understand It She couldn l ;,..,ve the cushions; she was too soft!" Barclay was looking nt me. his mouth open, s sort of vague wonder in hla big sun-seamed face. I he pose and the expression of the man annoyed me. "What's wrong with you'"’ I said What are you gaping at? lie was 1-ilent for some moments. Hu kept looking at me, In that sort of vague wonder, from the floor up. Fi nally he spoke. "| low long hale you been out or Knaland. Sir James?" "Two years," I replied In the And**. ’ ^ , « "Then you don't know what s hap p*n*d." . ‘ Abmit yminf Wlntnp? N»v M n mils IihH got #ioinc rumor of him In Central Africa slid "as Just slnrtlng out When I left. The grand Jury In Im-l rminij gn tmU' imso' agklntt young Winton for assault with in tent to murder; and the country had begun to howl—rich man's privilege— letting off the ‘toff’ and so forth. I suppose Marquis thought he had to get him. Marquis went down to Hants himself, to see old Brexford, didn't he? And then the public clamor drove him on.” Barclay replied in a rather strange voice; "Public clamor didn't drive Sir Henry Marquis. It was a. sense of duty, a tremendous compelling sense of duty—nothing less would have sent Sir Henry on that awful journey into the heart of Africa.” "Call it what you like," I said; “Marquis had no notion of going out of England until after he went to see old Brexford in Hants. That stirred up th& hornets. The penny press said the uncle would smooth him down. Marquis had to go after that.” "But the uncle was the hottest hor net in the swarm; it was war to the death with hint.” "He did die, didn't he?" I said. "I saw some notice of it in thes hip s bulletin on the way south.” "Yes.” replied Barclay, "he took to bis bed the day after Sir Henry Mar quis visited him in Hants, and he never got up.” “Like an old man,” 1 said, "adamant against an offending member of his family until it comes to the jail door, and then he goes soft.” Barclay looked again at roe with that strange expression. But he did not speak. He moved the maps about on the table until he found the one outlining Marquis's expedition. It had been enlarged and traced from Sir Henry Marquis's notes. It was not a printed map; Sir Henry had not made a published report of the expedition, because the government had not borne the cost of it. I suppose Mar quis financed it; he was rich and his reputation was at stake. It was his boast that Scotland Yard, white he was at the head of its criminal in vestigation department, would not tire out on the track of any man. Then Barclay put the query that I had been turning over In my mind: "Do you know who put up the money for this expedition?" I told him what I have written here—Marquis, of course. "No.” he said, "Sir Henry did not put up the money." "Then who did?" "The uncle,” he replied; "old Brex ford put it up.” I w as astonished. "Then he didn't go soft; he wanted young Wlnton brought out!” Barclay replied In the same even voice. “No," he said. "Brexford did not want him brought out." He was smoothing the tracing with his hands, stooping over the table. He did not seem to notice my sur prise. He would put the tip of his big finger on a crease of the map and slowly extend it. “We went in too far north,” he said, as in a vague comment. "We should have started In on the east coast farther down, about Mombasa. But the report Sir Henry had Indicated Wlnton somewhere south of Omdur man, and we went Jn through Egypt. But he wasn't In 'Omdurman. The rumor always put him on south—you knowr about desert rumors; strangely accurate ns a rule, and traveling over an Immense distance, one can't understand how. But the rumor was correct, he was on south; he had followed the White Nile, along Baker Pasa's route, a little to the west. Sir Henry always hoped to pick him up somewhere along the White Nile. But Sir Henry was going on a wrong hypothesis; he was thinking about the movements of a man who must consider how he will get back, and Winton did not Intend to get hack." He paused—a sort of hesitation in the narrative. "We didn't realize that for a long time; then we had to go on, or give up. Sir Henry, of course, went on. ' The "of course” abridged Marquis's whole character. “It was an awful march south. Wlnton was always just a little ahead. The desert rumors were pretty clear about him until we passed the big bend of the White MIe—you know it gges off west nearly at a right angle about 400 miles south of Khartum— then the rumors began to get con fused. Sometimes they put Wlnton on In our front and sometimes, Inex plleably to the rear of us. We couldn't understand It!" He drummed a moment on the table with his thick square fingers. I sat down. Anything this man had to say about an expedition was of In terest to me. Usually he didn't talk much. He went on: "We thought at first that Wlnton had doubled hack; or that we had passed him. But there was hia trail going on ahead; We were profound ly puzzled. It was like a mirage of the mind. We were all feeling the aun—darned queer about the sun! We wore spins pads and helmets with an Inch of cork, and the accursed dp.eert Bedouins marched pearly naked and with their heads shaven. "I got uneasy. Sir Henry made no comment, but I knew what he thought, our scouts were beginning to see* double—the sun will do any thing, to you! But they weren't see lng double. The explanation that or curred to us was that Wlnton had divided his force and put a part of it behind us But the native trackers pere positive that the size of the force on In front had not diminished by a man. And they were right. They pointed out a hundred evidences, in Wlntou's trail, to show that the same number of persons were on ahead. Barclay paused, and sat a moment looking down at the map. "We were being followed. I myself heard, faintly, ahola in the rear; and the desert rumor* began to get defi nlte There Was a white man and a small native force behind and a little to tbe west nf us, paralleling our route. There sei med to be some strange report about this man. cur rent In nut camp, that we could not find out. Finally. It seeped through to us—the man had no face! Barclay passed his hand over bis big square Jaw. "I suppose one could have a mirage of the mind. And mystery always breeds wonders. Anyhow, that i u inor went light on The leader of the force flm I dogged our real had no fa, , be was while, lie was I'lngllsh. Ills very size slid chalai-terlsllcs were given. U was clearly nut Wlntun from these details. Wlnton's tall and broad shouldered. "Then a stranger thing happened: We stopped and the expedition behind us also stopped. We turned back on our route for a day's march, and It also turned back for a day’s march. That settled It. We were being fol lowed! Sir Henry said nothing and one who omits a mass of detail. "We overtook Winton on the grass plateau beyond latke Victoria Vyan za, just where the old elephant trail comes out of the immense continent of forest to the south. “We sighted his camp at dark, and we stopped. He couldn't get away now and there was m hurry. We took cur time. The sun had us pretty well thing white. And he came back to say that Sir Henry and I were to come forward alone to a scrub bush about 100 yards from the cordon around ^Vinton's camp. It was like a parley in a little hill war! "I lay down at the bush, but Sir Henry stood. 1 #was keen to know' he continued. “It was made of asbestos cloth to keep out the sun. and U was fitted with big. thick, colored lenses, to protect the eye#* from the heat rays. It was stitched into the head band of the helmet and buttoned down closely to the tunic collar. Strange no one of us had ever thought about the heat rays on the Sir Henry Marquis went over to /lie ca nip that night unarmed and with hands up. we went on. Winton ahVid had gained a little. He didn't etop. There seemed to be no relation between him and this mysterious expedition. It wasn't after Winton. It was after us. "Sir Henry went on. And the man without a face followed. He didn’t have an easy time of It, any more than we had. He had the sun and he had to beat off the desert maraud ers. "There’s no law at the head of the White Nile. We heard the firing. We could tell the very arm he used.' a high power magazine rifle made by Jermyn In Pall Mall—he was an Englishman all right. That was the one thing that quieted our concern about him. His mysterious movemenis might be Inexplicable, but he was English and therefore no enemy— We had something to learn about that!” Barclay made a vague gesture, like crumpled I could hardly walk and Sir Henry was jerky. But we lost possession of Winton's camp by Just the measure of that night. There was a cordon cf sentinels around It in the morning and another tent up— -Vo face had r*?-ssed around us in the night— We were beaten to our man! "I curced under my breath. So the mysterious Englishman was an ally of the man we were after. It was ail clear now. He had followed us with the deliberate pur|>ose of joining Win ton against ue. But why did he not attRck us on the way In? If h» were in fact hostile to us—if be didn't want us to find Win ton 7 Of course I yyjs only guessing half right., as one al ways guesses. He did want u« to find Win ton! "We'wprh halted by two shotB that flecked up the earth on either side of us when jv« started for his camh that morning, and we had to stop. We sent a native on ahead with sotne what would happen. We w*ere at last come up with this mysterious Eng lishman w’ho had hung on our flank all the way down the White Nile. "It was some moments before we saw hinr. And then I sat up He came out from behind a tent, and at the distance, true to the persistent rumor, the figure had no face, th'* space under the visor of his helmet was blank. I saw’ Sir Henry start slightly and unsling his field glasses, and I got mine out. "Then the mystery disappeared. The man had extended the apron of his helmet—which one wears in the desert to protebt the back of the neck—entirely around the head band, to protect the carotid arteries, the sponge bones of the fa« e, and his throat; this apron was fastened down securely from the head band of the helmet to the collar of his tunic.'* Barclay paused. "f afterward examined It closely. face, on the carotid arteries and the throat; of course the value of colored lens for the eye was known: but not the value of a thick colored lens. No Face taught the world something about the sun. and the result was that he had come out of the dceer' fit. and we were groggy. "He came out to the cordon of his sentinels about 100 yards away, as I have said, and stopped: he carried a magazine rifle—we were right, one of Jermyn s in Pall Mall—in the liol low of his arm. There was a native with him. It was the native who ad dressed us. He spoke a precise sort of Rnglish like a phonograph. The Master says the first thins to arrange. Sir .Henry,’ he called, 'is a truce. I/ord Winton ha* a touch of the sun. and your man's down.' "He Indicated me with a gesture. His voice was high: nervous tension usually pul* the voice up. " N HIGH LIGHTS AND LOW _Mv O. O. Bl'IN'TYRE.__1 The shooting affair In Hollywood several weeks ago has caused a brushing up of conduct among the cinema fraternity in New York. It concerns a little agreement whereby folk well known on the screen are to keep out of cafes and other places where liquor is sold. It Is beginning to percolate among them that the public Is fed up on carryings-on. Producers are said to have sent out polite warnings that never he fore in the history of the Industry was there so much resentment to ward those whose conduct Is unhe j coming. Press agents are sending out "pure as snow" blurbs about clleiita There are many fine, hard working and self respecting folk in the movies. They do not deserve (he general op prohrlum that has come to all screen players. New York has been gripped by a bitter theological disouaslon. It has proved an excellent opportunity for those seeking the limelight to Inject their views in the public prints. The whole controversy shows there are quite a number in high places who have not learned the value of silence and the grace of tolerance. In one of the Intimate auppei clubs recently there sal a man who has been thrice divorced. At one table sat a former wife and her par ents and on the other side of him another former wlfo with her hus hand. It I* recorded that all chatted amiably. Recently a young man was released from a middlewest prison. While there lie developed ability ns a writer He sold enough stories from hi* coll to give him h fair start in life. A dozen markets have been opened to him. Not one editor knows he w.i.* In Jail. I have hern one of hi* constant correspondents Not once did he whine over his fate. If*- has made ,i ( lean sweep of his past There in no subject a writer tackb ' so provocative of correspondence a* that of the dog. Albeit I’ayson Tee hune, who specializes In moat excel lent dog stories. lecetves more mail than any writer. The recent loss of a dog which I wrote about In new - papers and magazines brought on* thousands of letters from almost every part of the globe. Africa. India. Chinn. Tahattl, France. Kngland. tier many, Hwltzerlnnd, Alaska, l.gvp* Kcuador. Mexico, Chib Russia, Nor way, New Zealand. Canada and every state in Hie union were represented .lust excel pta from the- , letters fill a 220 page mthp hook The dog reigns as man’s boat friend among animals, and deservedly so, i "Tlirrr i* a rrlehciilrd arlial in New N «>rli «ln> near* black lace pajama* Ill Now York I line me KS« “ingle truck uiIIch of devoted and subway lines upon which h passenger tuny ride “7 miles for 11 niekel. A gienter nuinlier of people are onrrled on thesi linen In a day than are transported In all I he strain railroads of the I oiled Mlales The lolnl aggregate of passenger* In a year exert'd* the lolnl population, of the enrtli. The u\etiliea and paved slreels of New York If placed In a straight line would at retell to 171 I’aso, Tex. In rapid tt.innit lines New York lorn invested more than lion.nno.tioo, whleh exceeds thi combined entire municipal in dehlednesa of Cleveland. Ml I.011I1. Hoston, tlsltlmore and Pittsburgh. line of I lie most amusing comedians In New York Is Arthur Went, lie 1" a roly poly fellow adept at I he "wise crack." Weal was raised In so nrphanag- and he spends much of his lime giving free entertainment* to orphans. There are III women altm lied lm police headquarter* who ride In the A subway* to catch flirts. The average number of arrests 1« about fotir « day. Middle aged men. they say. air tin* greatest Itofneos. Tim prom Is rulty of the subway Offers t\ chain' to piiu;h a pretty stenographer’-* check. Most of the flirts are fathers of families and they sprinkle th* police blotter with tears when the\ reach the station house Rarely ate charges pressed against them by tin Kiris. >s a result the subway flirt does not receive the publicity that Is perhaps Ids due Some of the huberdaahn y shops a»« offering two color pajamas for men. The coat is of one color and the pants of another. There is a cele hrated artist In New York who wear* Mark lace |w»Jamas. That would scmii about the last word or moan. New York now has R9 first cl:«'*>i theater*. There aie six In Phlladel phi.i. 14 In Rhleago and nine in lloston. Five new theaters are in (he course of const ruction here. fhes* houses play only the so-called legitl mate attractions, and In the total are not Included the movie and low priced vaudeville houses which reach Into the hundreds. Thei-e are pinre than too first class restaurants. The New Yorker tnay dine In a different one each night In the year and not com plete the circuit. New York's little group of serious thinkers has lost one of Its leading protagonists. Recent change of otvn i rshlp of a newspaper resulted in dropping the pilot of the column he conducted. Hope Hampton, the screen star, has become the wife of Jules K. Itrulatour, film magnate and million aire. She became a motion picture ;iar without experience on the spoken stage as the result of time, .money •nd perseverance of Rrulatour. She nas a home on Park avenue, several Imported cars and, oyer, a Russian wolf hound. Irvin Cobb's daughter, who, by the wav, Is writing a play, was asked re i ,-ntly to describe her illiistrloua father. She said: 'Tie is rather tall, well built, has black hair, two chins In front and a spare' In behind ' There probably never was a father more devoted lo a daughter than Mr. Cobh Is to Miss Kllsabeth. And he is the idol of her eye. They are together almost constantly. Miss Cobb has shown llfernry talent In several articles she has written a few of them having appeared In the Bookman. The editor of a certain magazine owned by a man In London hut pub 11 shed here recently quarreled with fl.e publisher by cable over a story T lie authoress of the story wag a venerable Kngllsh woman. The pub lisher InMsIed the gtorv be published. The editor resigned. In a ftw da's lie t»»eivcd lids cable: "Yon and 1 at our age should not quarrel over a woman at here delations were amicably restored. There are many contrasts from the hullabaloo of the Koarltig Forties laisl week nt the home of one of the richest men In the city there was an old fashioned taffy pulling followed by a spelling niHlch. \nd a pleasant time was bail by all There are a dozen banks In Nt w York that refuse to accept att Indi vidual account of less than 18.000. An astrologlst In cainegle hall, in tMentally, receives only patrona who ate ralnl In the millionaire class She tieg about ?4 in this division and they go In her so often am! she charges such a high fee that she makes o splendid Income tCspi right. l*t* > A • Marquis did not reply Immediately to the point. “ 'So your ma.-'ter knows me.' he said. "But the stranger was not ty be diverted. He spoke to the native, 'Oh. surely,’ the native called back. 'But the truce. Sir Henry; shall you rest up a bit or have it out now . ” ‘Have what out?' “'Why pretend, Sir Henry? ’i he native seemed to call out precisely the words spoken to him. *\ou came in to take l,ord Wlnton out, and the master to prevent you.' “ ‘Then why didn't your master at lack me on the White Nile—he could have rushed our camp before we knew about him.’ “ 'The master will answer tnat. me [native called back: and then will you I come to the point? The master had to use you to find laird Winton He | didn't know where he was—' “ 'How ill is Winton?’ asked Mar quis. “ 'Lord Winton is delirious,' the man replied. 'But it's the heat only. A day or two in (he cool air of this plateau will put him on his feet.’ '• 'Very well,' Sir Henry said; 'when IVinton's able, wel'll start back.' “There was a strange shift in the hearing rtf the white man over beyond Sir Henry Marquis when he replied to that. I can's precisely describe iL He did not seem to change his posi tion. but his posture got somehow *a deadly menace in it. " ‘You have your choice, Sir Henry,' lie called. “The inference did not need to be set out in words. It had been stated in the opening of this strange parley. I thought Marquis' reply was pure bravado. •‘ ‘Oh! there's no choice!’ “And he turned about and walked past me down ftie long green slope to our camp." Barclay sat back from the table and put the fingers of hlg big hand to gether. He went on in a reflective comment: “To tell the truth. I thought Mar quis was acting a bit of a fool. Jt wag clear to anybody that this mys terious ally that had joined Winton s camp wag not a person to he either baffled or frightened. There was, in fact, no choice, as Sir Henry said: but not as he evidently intended our enemy to believe. Winton would not go back to criminal trial in an Kng lish court. We could not fight the two forces now combined. They were double the strength of our own. “'There'll he no fight' was all Sir Henry replied to me. " Then you won t take him. I said. " 'Oh. yes.' he answered; ‘we shall take Lord Winton bark with us!' "I could see what would happen. There would be a rumor creep out In a year or two; the ivory raiders would carry it; or the slave gangs. There would be a brief official entry In the records of the criminal investigation department at Scotland Yard; and a lot of bleached skeletons to remain vaguely white on that plateau." Barclay suddenly got up. He put his big hands on the table and leaned over toward me. "I guessed what would happen," he said, with a slow, deliberate intona tlon of the words, "and I guessed wrong!" "Sir Henry Marquis went over into Winton's camp that night, unarmed and with his hands up—and lb days later we started for the Albert Nyanza on the return marph. Marquis brought Winton out! "It's of no use to guess. Sir James; one always guesses wrong!" "How did Marquis manage it?" I asked. "I'm not going to guess?" "You see," he "old Brexford told the grand jury in Hants that he was sitting In his drawing room read ing beside a table. It was Sdnday night: his servants had all gone to some frolic in the neighborhood, and j he was alone. He didn't know Win ston was about. They had quarreled j bitterly about the marriage with this American girl. Brexford was rich and unmarried and Winton was his heir. There had been a desperate quarrel on Saturday, the day before; the ser vants all heard It. and at the end bf it old Brexford notified Winton that he would go up-to London, on Mon day and cut him out of his will, and Winton left the house. "Brexford told Sir Henry Marquis what he had told the grand Jury. He j was sitting alone In Ills drawing room reading when a shot fired from the darkness outside crashed into the window; it happened Just as Brexford leaned forward to get a cigaret from a box on the table. That accident of ] charg e saved Brexford s life, for the bulk* passed by his shoulder Instead of cutting its way through his chest. 1 An lnsilnct of safety caused the man ; to fail forward onto the floor and lie there as though he were dead; that : saved his life again, for the man out side came up to the window and j looked in, and Brexford out of the j tali of his »ve saw that it was young Winton. Winton thought he had ( killed Brexford and got out of the J country." "So that was It I said, "tnat was the reason Winton was willing to come out. Marquis brought him the assurance that his shot had missed' "It's of no use to guess, isir James The ftrt thing Sir llenry Marquis said to Prexford. after he had looked over the drawing room, was: 'Are you sure the shot was not fired from the other side of this draw Ing room*’ "This was Impossible and Prexford pointed out at once that It was lin possible. True, the easement window directly opposite on that side was open, for It was through this open window that the bullet directed "I Prexford passed out of the drawing room: hut the country on that side fell away front the house sharply In a deep hollow; there was no tree or elevation, one lo have fired svu li a shot from tills side of the house through the drawing-room at Hre\ ford In ins chair would have required an elevation of at least fifl\ feet and os I have said, there wasn't even a tree on that side "Put Sir Henry Marquis refused to l«e convinced. •' ‘The shot,' he said, came from! this side "Prexford lost his tempei "That s Impossible' ' he riled \\ isn't I sitimg here d.dn t l lien the bullet isiss me. didn't l see tliei glam break* j “Sir Henry only repeated what he d said. ‘The shot came from this side!' Brexford blew up at that. •••■Ho you think I'm a Uar!' he said. “IVhat Sir Henry Marquis replied was: " 'I know you're a liar!’ “Then lie went at him, and before he got through old Brexford admitted' that lie fired the shot through the window himself from the drawing room; and Marquis made him put up the money to find Young Winton and bring him l>aek to England. That’s what took Sir Henry Marquie on that journey into Central Africa—Justice to young Winton, not Justice to the peace and dignity of the county of Hampshire. Young Winton hadn’t been near old Brexford that night; he had gone to Christ Church, deter mined to settle matters with this American girl. He was mad about her; she must take him, or he would get as far out of the world as he could. He missed her by an accident. She had gone out to tea somewhere in Hants: the motor had broken down and she could not get back; and be ing Sunday she could not telegraph. Winton took it for intention, because she had given him her word that she would be there, and he went on into Central Africa. That was the truth of it.’’ Barclay had gone ovc-r to the win dow and was looking down on the entrance to the hotel doorway. "But yie shot," I eaid. "How did Marquis know that it was fired from the inside of the drawing-room?” "That was simple," he answered. “When a bullet passes' through a pane of glass it always breaks off a little rim of chir« on the side wlieiw it comes out. When .Sir Henry Mar tiuls examined that window be saw at once that he rim of chips was on ithe outside of the pane, and conse quently the bullet must ha'se come [the cither way.” I got up and went over toward th* window where Barclay stood. "And there’s another thing," I said. Who was the mysterious person who followed you in io join Winton?” Barclay looked up from the win [dowq there was the sound of a motor moving from the door below. "That ivas I-ady Winton." he said. "An Kogllib woman!" I cried. "Right, mv friend, one of our women could do that; th’»y have the vigor and the fiber and the courage—no tender American pretty-doll carted about In cushions!" Barclay beckoned me to the win dow. I crossed to him and looked down. The big limousine motor was going out. and nestling in its soft uphol stery, In an attitude of luxurious languor, was the yellow-haired Amer ican girl with the Pekinese dog in her arms! Clogged Air Passages Open at Once—Nostril* Cleared. If your nostrils $re and your head stuffed because of catarrh or cold, pet Elys Cream Balm at any drug store. Apply a litfle of this pure, antiseptic, perm destroying cream into your nostrils and let it penetrate through every air pasc>ape of your head and membranes. In stant relief. How pood it feels. Tour head »s rle«r. Tour nostrils are open. Tou breathe freely. No more hawking or snuffling. Head colds and catarrh yield like magic. Don't stay stuffed up. choked up and miserable. Rel’.ef is sure. \ \l» KBT1SEMKMT 7/J%#np Flesh/ MANY are tBa eye* that ard turned to pare with keen ad miration on the well developed, healthy girl no matter where she may be—on the rapidly moving thoroughfare or gilding gracefully over the dance floor.' All eyes turn because we all a|s preciate the girl with the figure so firm and plump—the girl with radiantly red cheeks, cheeks that carry a touch of roses from na ture’s own garden—the gtrl with the sparkling eyes, keen and sharp —the girl with buoyancy and the swing of youth. Not necessarily an out-of-door* girl. Just a girl with ever in creasing blood cells. Just a girl filled with the vim and vigor of youth. S. S. S, since 1S26. has stood fe* increased blood ceils. S. S S, means restored strength—rekin dled vitality—added energy. -Take R. S. S. and watch the bloom of youth return to your cheeks. \\ at* 'i that flabby, ill nourished flesh fade away before flesh that is Arm and plump. Red blood cells will do it and R S. S will huild them, it contains ouly pure vegetable tin gredients S S. S. is sold at alt _ good drug stores. The large M sire bottle is more economt cal. __ f^-T C C You Frrl iJU.iJL \lHltvll V.uil*
