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*
