CHAPTER I. The Dunseuth Emerald. It was a confounded nuisance, Ted Uunseath decided, to have to go out to Aunt Emily's on the night before the Thanksgiving football game; ospe daily w hen you were so nearly broke that you couldn't hire a taxicab. At best, the old suburb of Elm Hills was a dismal place, the walk was dismal, and he was distnal, to begin with. That last talk witli the Dean! "No profit from a further connection with the University . , . the Board of Deans lias decided . . . immediate expulsion . . . need not fo further into the tacts." Facts! Not fails were need ed, but pull! And what was the use of having a, third cousin like Jarvis Marsden rating a full house in the chemistry department if he wouldn’t use his influence’.' And now that fat head Perkins would be leading the yella and songs at the stadium to . morrow. . . . Still, there was hope. Aunt Emily might he feeling a little more like a human being with all the nieces and second cousins crowding into the house—at her command—for a “re union. " Prexy must be expecting half a million when the old girl cashed in. A note from her could do a lot. Or she might start him in business, an advertising agency of bis own, bonds, real estate. She'd have to do some thing. He began to whistle. As be rounded a bend in the road he set his suitcase down and stopped his whistling. Far on through the November gloom, but as if magnified by fog and dusk the old Dunsentb mansion seemed to ride menacingly toward him. Eights coming on In the second story gave the house sin ister eyes. The very devil of a place to live, he thought. No wonder Aunt Emily had had Minty Pitkin slaying with her for the last thirty years. Jarvis Marsden would be there, of course—drat him—and extra affable .iust to show he held no bard feelings because he’d refused to help a fejjow out. Probably his .kid sister, Janet Marsden, would he there with him. He hadn't seen Janet for three years. Hhe'd be one of those ’Wellesley in tellectuals by this time, reading some dumb sheet like the Atlantic Monthly. As he at last ascended the porch New York • •Day by Day Vs By O. O. MTNTYRE. Paris, March 22.—The most sophis ticated persons in Paris are the young chausseurs attached to every hotel and cafe. Their English is flawlesa. They range In age from 14 to 18 and their duties are multitudinous. They act as interpreters, brgain with taxi drivers after midnight, carry messages and other chores. They are hardened to vice and few Montmarte secrets escape them. Many are vendors of drugs. They make more in tips than head waiters and numberless French so called lower classes live in luxury off their young sons. Class distinction in France Is pronounced. Someone has i nmpared it to a glass of ale, frothy at the top, dregs at the bottom and solid in the middle. The chausseur in his environment usually becomes a cutpurse and comes to a bad end. I notice in today's paper that one at the age of 15 has been arrested for giving a womaif knockout drops and then scampering sway with her purse and Jewels. Rubbing against life in the raw has made them quick and mentally alert. They know of the foulest dens in Paris and will escort you there for the rake-off they receive from the propri etors. They are on salary to drum up business. It is rather disheartening to see south so spoiled and gives Americans » fresh appreciation of the manner in which we guard the morals of our oung. I talked to one stationed in front of a night haunt on the left bank. He said he usually became intoxl cated before the night was over, but that he had not yet Income addicted to cocaine. He intimated most of his fellow chausseurs were "dopes." Behind the barred doors of many s^raid looking streets in Paris are Some of the most beautiful court yards. Streets here speak still for men who are now dust. Others bear the names of royal houses, of kings' ministers and mistresses. At night Paris streets are deserted for the true Parisian goes to bed early. Ten o’clock is late for him. The Parts drayman Is a. merry fellow, cracking his whip over the head of ids huge Norman horse. His long spindly dray usually carries bar 1 els of red wine, lie treats them as airy things and tosses, twirls and trundles them about as though they were feathers. The drayman is gen erally whistling or singing. Nearly all cabaret entertainers here are Russian. Po many arc broke that they gladly work for a few francs. I have never been able to catch their magic caprice or alien jocundity, t have seen so many of them do that sitting down dance that even at ifty age I believe I could do it myself. Perhaps Paris Is making mo spry. Count Bonl de Castellano, former husband of Anna Could, Is a familiar figure about the Kllz. Despite his yeara he Is still an active and dash lng figure In Parisian life. The count dresses with meticulous care and his clothes are the handiwork of masters. And speaking of clothes, what Kurope calls the smoking Jacket and what wo call the dinner suit or Juxedo Is completely out of fashion here. In nil the smart, assemblages at the Rltz for dinner last night there were only two dinner suits—one was my own and the other belonged to a gentle man who looked as though he might be the leading chiropractor of Russel Oap, la. I also saw the famous Mrs. Nash last night who has been heralded ns the best, dressed woman In Kurope. She hsd Just corne from Cairo after divorcing her husband, an Kgyptlan bey. Her arms bore Jewels from the wrist to the elbow and If Jewels moke one well dressed she was. Meeuut . (Coerilfht. {ill.) | steps, lie saw, through the library window, Jarvis Marsden's tine dark head above a chair. Rose Fabry sat beside him. Grant Fowler was far ther on. Ruse looked just the same as ever: gold hair with auburn lights in it; eyes like—not sapphires—but a cool blue wine, maybe. Touch of amethyst In 'em when she was mad And she wouldn't pet. Two years ago . . .the devil . . . she was the right sort for that cold fish. Jarvis. They were probably engaged by this time. He rang the bell. Aunt Emily would have the door locked if the prince of Wales were coming. Soames, the butler, started down the hall. Soames would still be cross-eyed, of course, and still quof ing the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. As the massive door swung back, Ted heard Soames’ familiar voice: " ‘Those who stood before The tavern shouted: ‘‘Open, then, the door! Tou know how little while we have to stay. And, once departed, may return no more.’ ” Only ive know you will return, Mr. Theodore. Our only fear w that you might not be able to get off, sir. because of the game.” “They made an exception in my case. Where’s Aunt Emily? 1 sup pose 1 have the some old room back in the nursery?” Grant Fowler gave him his best realtor's grip, and Rose advanced to greet him. followed by Jarvis. '^Yiint Emily will be so glad you could come, Ted,” Rose informed him; and a smile, instantly suppressed, flickered across Jarvis’ face. '"Yes,” Jarvis added, as they went into the library, "she was very eager to have all of us. Even Homer Chal fonte is turning up. He's been in India for the last ten years. I don't suppose you remember him.” "A legend and a name,” Ted mur mured, and stepped closer to the table in order to see clearly the dark girl in the wine-red gown sitting by the fireplace. As she uncrossed her legs, her rolled stockings and slim knee disappeared. Her dress blurred into the color of the burl mahogany be hind her, and her face was carneo denr against one of the flitted col umns rising at either end of the man tel. “I know,” Jarvis continued, "that Janet, at least, has only the faintest memory of him.” "Well, good Lord, Janet!" Ted hurst out. and rushed around the table to catch her hands In his. "You remem her me, anyway, don't you—even if I didn’t recognize you at Hirst?” "Oh, yes, I remember you—mod erately well. I couldn't forget that hair anyway. It’s just as red as ever. Rut isn't it exciting about Hom er C'halfonte? And he's bringing an East Indian, a Hindu, with him. Gho pal Bose, his name is. I do hope he wears a turban." "Oh. he's probably pome coffee-col ored Hindti valet." Ted answered, and shortly went up to dress. Dressing, he remembered that Soames had said Aunt Emily was still in her room. Instead of going down to join the others, he waited oil the landing of the "grand etair case” under the stained glass win dow. Miss Minty appeared first, and then Aunt Emily, leaning her gray silk bulk upon Minty's arm, and tap ping with a cane as she slowly ad vanced. Miss Minty’s pinched, nar row little lace lighted up as she saw Ted, but Aunt Emily, Ted noticed with perturbation, only scowled down at him and began to grumble as she descended the first flight of stairs. Circumstances did not seem propi tious, but Ted was on his feet, effu sively, at once, taking Mies Minty's place. Still Emily Dunseath said nothing. "Hadn’t you h'etter rest, here. Aunt?” he inquired, and guided her to the semi-circular seat under the wdndow. "There’s a little matter I’d like to talk over with you before you go down.” His aunt subsided heavily and turned slowly her large pale eyes on hint. Quailing a little before the cold perfection of her scrutiny, he looked down at her faint silvery gray mus tache above her lipless mouth. ‘ Young man, T don't think I have much to say to you. T consider that your actions have disgraced the name of Dunseath. T had a note from the President ex plaining it all. and I fully agree with him. Further, I have half a mind to disown you entirely. T shall see how you conduct yourself w hlle you're here. And I don’t want you to ask any favors of me for a year. At the end of that time we’ll see. Now help me get up. Minty, hand me my cane. You're as much of a fool as Teddy." Miss Minty gave Ted a quick, frightened look ap she helped Emily down the remaining stairs. Ted sat stricken. No more cutting j classes—except all of them: no more •strutting his stuff before the roar ing stadium, no more checks when j lie was broke, no advertising agency I of bis own. Just bonds and a smelly | bedroom somewhere until the old thing died—and maybe even then only coupons to sell and none to clip, lie responded curtly to the greeting ft Helen Barr. (Irant Fowler's fiancee. ns she came up the stairs. She seemed almost like a relative, any way. But n few moments later ns lie started back the passageway to hi mvn room—he hadn't the heart to no down— lie heard a flare of lainthter and voices. It must be chaffnnte. Waiting In the shadows he saw them ascending: Chnlfnnte first, a tall, stooped man in a large overcoat, who was taking hi* steam misted glasses from his over large nose. His long head was partially bald. The Hindu followed, his turban like an enor mous pale blue flower above bis cop pery gleaming l ice, bis black eyes catching every detail. Ted felt that ho had been seen, even where ho *uod, though Ohopal Bose gave no sign of having observed him. It was enough, however. to make T> d step nervously into his ntvn room, where Ills thought* darkened with the niglit. Somebody, he dliidv realize*!, was talking in the passageway just out side Ills floor. He started to answer, then \vah troubled tones, ':You shouldn't talk 1 hut way about one who has bellied us sv. much. . . Her words ended in a hysterical laugh. Footsteps diet! away. Was lie dreaming? The din ner t-ong s mellow boom floated to his car- I hill.' , he rose and went down. 11dj>* hovered o'er him a* the nin* n* r |ir"iri • s,t, Knilh seemed to eoft* eo utid* r the Influ* ine *»f food, soft lights and inti* h talk ('hnlfont* s,t b\ hei side, and (Jhopal Boro down 1 he table beside Helen. Janet, Ted found t'» bis satisfaction. Wf»B be* ■ side himself. (To I)#» ( aptinu^l Tomorrow.) / WELL HELLO*. I SAW YOU SOMEPLACE "x / BEFORE - ARENT YOU THE LITTLE FELLOW THAT' / CAME TO MY OFFICE THE OTHER DAY-AMO DIDN'T YOU GO AWAY WITHOUT SAYING GOOD* \ 0YE”? WELL YOU’LL HAVE TO SAY IT TWICE \ TODAY - YOU'RE OUST A THOUGHTLESS V^X LITTLE PERSON ' e»r COLU'f-i 'UOObT C.O IN UET E:r*'' know THAX I bOf iE one ^vaped a* i—' l ) * lamp orr hMM' r——) *Y* pducT MjTlOM _ r 1 MAC- HAS GomEr l YhAt's Voo saoI To a EAwtABiUM i— i must Go bchy ► OR a BEET, TILL IE , OUT AMD t-vEfc rwF- Dor SAVS HE MAD'- ~AhiM a Tv? TAk DOajm FTBOM — ~ "TLAC 1C OT /’M sleet-5 W TVjl 1 THIMIC j j MAC HA^i ^^-^^PADIOi-t is "i'T ^STTT sffe'oos All WE MEEDS amd Rest he 3 asleep ever me CAMg.j—-,j— ■AIWiCM, IE v/EI? Go00 fob him When a Feller Needs a Friend. • By BRIGGS r i . i Mr . 1 1 , , ' ■ — .--—:-1 .. »-v»'r\ '' I >1 , L ^.! ii .*W). ALMOST Persuaded THE NEBBS and CAESAR HAD HIS BRUTUS. Directed for The Omaha Bee by joI new (Copyright 1925 > /get OUT OF MY SIGHT, EMPTY HEAD ! \ /l™ UH \ I 'TWERE IS MORE MISERY IN.A LOOK AT 'J \yOrA YOU THAN I CAN STAND ! YOU RE \ ! JUST SO FULL OF BRAZEN IGNORANCE I ftVa//)UA THAT YOU STOP AND SPEAK TO ME , 1 UlllUJW*, AFTER THE INSULT AT YOUR OFFICE . j Hn /nri ! -AND AFTER ALL 1 DID FOR YOU ! IF k/"01 \\UT I SAVa. \ THE HUfJSE HE HAS IM M\S *O0H [ ~ ^ AUD I THIMtC UUHEM MACj iOOEMS HiS EVES P'OlJ THE PiBST TifAE HE'LL- < y^ '[ GET well -aulClCLy ! ,'N\ ( i HOPE so) S/li* ^ A ^ if f/; C'v - IT 3 S3 ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Herthfield PKAl I AT AN\ KATK. 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