Evening Star Newspaper, February 15, 1925, Page 76

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. O, FEBRUARY 15 1925—PART 5. The Scarlet Patch BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM. %\ Myste_ry Story Dealing With Dramatic Disappearances. T half-past 12 on a_blustery 4ay in March a middle-aged, neatly dressed man of power- ful appearance, who had set- titd down in the neighborhood under the name of Mr. Joseph Britton, turned into the main street of the small town of Dredley, in Surrey, pushed open the swing doors of the fces of Messrs. Harrison & Co., land nd house agents, and tapped on the mahogany counter with the crook of his stick. Mr. Harrison at once emerged from his private office. The two men exchanged greetings. “I want to sell my house," Mr. Brit- ton_announc The house agent looked at his vis- flor over the top of his spectacles, with some surprise 3 “Why, Mr. Britton. 1 thought you'd settled down for life among us,” he said, slowly drawing his ledger to- ward him. “You're not leaving the neighborhood. T hope?” T'm having some trouble with my wife,” the other explained. “She has worked herself up into & mnervous state about these two extraordinary disappearances.’ Mr. Harrison's expression was one of somewhat irritated concern Come, that’s too bad,” he remon- strated. “If every one were to adopt that attitude, what would become of the price of property in the neigh borhood? Why, you'd ruin us all.” 1 can’t help the price of property, Britton replied, coldly. “We've children, and my wife’s the only person 1 have to consider in the world. It's seeing the policemen about he lane, 1 expect, that has upset her.” “Take her away for a change, Mr. Britton,” the house agent advised. Don't you go throwing away a nice little property that you've just bought because of a lady's spell of nervous- ness. Give her a month at Brighton and shelll come back a different woman.’ “I am afraid the matter is too seri- ous for that. the other sighed. I hiave no desire to part wtih the house, just having settled down, but I have my word, and there we are. - down the particulars.” | ‘I don’t meed any,” was the reluc- tant re “It isn't a couple of yea! since 1 vou the place. What do | you want for it?" T gave 4.000 Sritton reflected, rty has increased sider any offer. v you must have spent dreds upon the garden alone” Harrison remonstrated. A thousand pounds wouldn't cover I've spent on the place, one Way another. Al the same, T've assed my word of honor that down ft goes into your books. 1If you don't ell it, T can’t help it.” Well, I'm glad the other residents aren’t adopting yvour attitude,” Mr. Harrison grumbled. “After all, these two disappearances might be cleared up at any moment. They may be en- | tirely voluntary.” | “That is precisely what 1 have| pointed out to my wife,” Mr. Britton | acquiesced. “In my opinion, the po- 1 only advertising their In- competence by hanging about the place and making senseless inqui- ries. People don't disappear no days except of their own choic “I quite agree with you,’ the house agent answered. “Lot of fuss about nothing, I call it Will you | take a glass of sherry with me, Mr. Britton, before you go?' With pleasure!” was the courteous | response THE Mr pounds for it Mr and they say prop- s in value. I'll con- hun- Mr. men left the place to- ler and entered the adjoining | hotel. Dredley was one of those half- wrban, half-suburban town-villages | which mock the wayfarer from Lon- don who thinks that 30 miles from the metropolis should bring him to the country. The shops were mostly branches of larger establishments, and the hotel retained its kinship to a public house. The house agent and his client established themselves in hard, horsehair easy chairs in an in- ner smokeroom. The floor was cov- | ered with oilcloth, the walls hung with chromo advertisements. The voung lady who waited upon them affable but towny. With the second order for refresnments she brought out a local newspaper. “After all this fuss” sh: exclaim- ed, “Bert Endell's people have heara from him at Newcastle, where he's| got a job, and Mr. Lancaster's writ- ten to his family from London." Mr. Harrison pounced wupon paper. “That's right" never! What two the he exclaimed. about it now, “Well, 1 Mr. Britton *I should thi odify my wife's prejudice against the place,” was the somewant doubt- ul reply. “Keep the house on the books and I'll let you know. The two men separated soon after- ward and Mr. Joseph Britton walkcd homeward. He was a man apparent- of carly middle-age, of medium height, powerful build and inconspie- nous appearance. He was clean- shaven, with black hair, unstreal with gray, massive jaw, firm mouth. but curiously restiess eves. Of his antecedents nobody knew but his banker's reference had been unexceptionable and his manners and speech were the attributes of a man of culture The residence chased two vear, which he had pur- before was situated on the sid of the heath, about & nile and a half from the town. It was built of white stone, half covered wit creepers, and there was about an of garden, bounded on onc long and narrow footpati. ‘ossed the heath and led iuto the tow Mr. Britton looked medi- tatively across at the rock garden, which was in the course of construc- tion, as he rang his front door bell. The idea was, without doubt, a good one. The proposed addition backed up against the thin hedge which sep- irated the footpath from his gar- den. It would, in time, shield the house from passers-by. The door was opened by & mansery- ant, €omberly dressed, and of un- couth and aggressive appearance. He took his master's hat and coat, and glanced at the clock with an air of disapproval “Luncheon announced, Mr. Britton nodded and opened the door of the dining room. A woman Who was already seated at the dmall round table looked up at his coming. “Have vou sold the house?” she asked, eagerly. ‘I have placed hands,” he replied. She ceatinued her lence—a striking looking woman, if ot beautiful, with pale cheeks, strange, haunting eyes and masses of beautiful brown hair. She was gaz- ing steadfastly out of the window which Jooked Z.cto the heath, *It appear: he went on, “that both te apeappearances which have been troun:ing the people of the nelghbor- hood are accounted for. The rela- tives of Mr. Lancaster have heard jrom him, and young Endell has writ- ten his mother from Newcastle.” His wife looked at him—a long and steady gaze from her wonderful eyes. She said nothing at all. “It was in the local paper,” he con- tinued. “It will be in the London DPADers tomorrow. acre side by a wiich ¢ is on gruffiy, the table, sir,” he it in the agent's luncheon in si- | the window and looked out The meal, served by the gloomy and taciturn manservant, was finished in silenoce. At its conclusion they mmde their way Into a small library ama seated themselves in easy chairs be- fore a huge log fire. Mr. Britton at once took up a book and became en- grossed in its contents. The woman neither read nor attempted any sort of needlework. There was no win- dow open in the room, vet occasion- ally she shivered. She sat With her hands folded in front of her, her eves sometimes fixed upon the fire, some- times engaged in a steady contem- plation of her husband's face. The latter remained completely absorbed. There was no attempt at conversa- tion TR HE day was cloudy and twilight came early. At 5 o'clock the but- ler served tea, which was partaken of by the woman only. She drank three cups greedily. Then she left the room again. When she reappeaped, she was wearing a handsome fur coat and a small, becoming hat with a veil, behind which her eyes seemed stranger and more beautiful than ever. Her husband gripped the sides of his chair and looked at her. “You are going out?” he inquired “1 am going to take a walk across the heath,” she replied. He rose slowly to his feet. For some reason or other the statement seemed to affect him. He walked to A belt of pine trees loomed like a black smudge at the end of the garden. The single trees and shrubs bordering the foot- path had assumed chaotic shapes, more fanciful than ever by reason of the fantasies of a high wind. The footpath across the heath was dimly visible. A solitary tradesman’s bo on a bicycle was making his way toward one of the large houses on the other side. The woman laughed, strangely but not unpleasantly. “T love wind,” she ®ald, the falling darkness.” She left the room. mained at the window. He watched her cross the lawn, step over the strands of wire at the further end of the garden and pass along the footpath. He watched her slim form as she came into sight on the other side of the trees, moving with swift and effortless grace into the bosom of the darkness and the booming wind. Then he turned away, left the room and, walking &ll the time with a curious mechanical effect, almost as though in & state of coma, he un- locked with a key from his chain the door of a small room behind the stairs. For a moment he paused to listen. Then he entered the room closing the door behind him. * % % x D\I\'IEL ROCKE looked up from the desk in his newly acquired office and gazed with some curiosity At his unexpected visitor. Miss Ann Lancaster subsided into the chair to which he had instinctively pointed and laid her muff on the floor by her side. “You remember me, she began. “Quite well.” he answered. “You were one of our cipher tvpists at the Foreign Office.” She nodded. “I am still engaged there,” she said There was =a brief pause. Miss Lancaster seemed in no hurry to de- clare her mission and Daniel Recke. without displaying undue curiosity, was interested in renewing his im- pressions of her. At the Foreign Office she had just been ome in a dozen, a little distinguished from the others perhaps, only on account of her superior intelligence. He had certainly never appreciated before the small, excellently shaped head. the glints of a richer color in her deep brown hair, her clear hazel eves mnd delicate eyebrows, her pale com- plexion, creamy rather than pallid She was of medium height and slim figure, distinctly feminine but with the subtle possession of poise. In the long, bare room at the Foreign Office Rocke would never have glanced at her twice. Here, in his rather shabby little apartment at the top of a block of buildings In Shaftsbury avenue, she was altogeth- er & different person. She, too, from her point of view, found interest In studying more closely this person whom she had come to visit. She ‘remembered him merely as @ man of about 35 years of age, of medium height, pallid- faced, with somewhat cynical mouth and the fretful ways of a hypo- crondriac. He had the reputation of extreme cleverness and he had more than once charmed the whole room by “wind and The man re- Mr. Roocke? very occasional and the chief impres- k that might possibly | sion she had formed of him during | their period of more or less close as- sociation was of a man swift in in- tuition, capable but short-tempered. & man with an indomitable capacity for mastering any obstacle which came in his way, but impatient of all | or interruption. * ¥ %k % I ask why office?" delay left the inquired ‘6 AY foreign at last. He raised his eyebrows very slight- ly. The question, coming in that form, surprised him. “You may ask.” he replied. “Impertinent of me, of course” she remarked, “but I am on serious busi- mess and my mind is filled with serious things. The report there was that, since the war, you had only been sent abroad four times, and that you were tired of doing nothing but de- coding ciphers.” “The report, for once, was absolute- 1y accurate,” Rocke admitted. ‘It was further reported.,” the girl continued, “that you were thinking of secking a post in the foreign in- telligence department of Scotland Yard.” you she a rare but very delightful smile. | His gracious moments, however, were | | “That is where rumor failed” he replied. “If I am to take you into my confidence at all, I will tell you that I am weary of officialdom. Now suppose you tell me what you have come to see me about, Miss Lan- caster.” “Doesn’t my name suggest my mis- sion,” she inquired. “Ann Lancaster?’ ot In the slightest.” “You have read of the Dredley disap- pearances”" “Yes,” he acknowledged. “My father was James Lancaster, the first one to go,” she confided. “He went out for half-an-hour's walk on the heath while they were getting his supper ready, and never returned.” “But 1 thought that was all ex- plained now." he observed. “I thought that a letter had been received from your father. and also from the other young man who disappeared. “That is where these ‘mysterious disappearances,’ as the Press used to call them, really do begin to be mys- terious,” ‘the girl replied. “I have seen both letters. I know nothing about the young man who wrote from Newcastle, but I am perfectly con- vinced that the communication which came to us with the postmark ‘Beth- nal Green, was neither typed nor dictated by my father.” “Have you the letter with you?" he asked She produced it—a half sheet of common note paper, on which the few sentences were roughly typed “My dear wife and daughters I am in trouble and obliged to lie low for a few months. Do as well as you can without me. T have found some work In a quiet spot. I shall return before long. Affectionately, “JAMES LANCASTER." “You do not believe that this came trom vour father?” Rocke Inquired. “I am sure that it did not.” Why?" 1y father was a quiet, loving man,” she declared, venturous and contented been to see his employers. were perfectly satisfied with him and they scoffed at the idea of his being in any sort of discreditable trou- ble.” “Have you been to Scotland Yard?" “Yes,” she replied. “They were very mnon-committal. They went so far as to tell me that hailf the mys terious disappearances we hear about are hoaxes. They took @ copy of the letter and promised to make inquirtes, but we are not able to offer a reward, and T am quite certain that they in- tend to do nothing further in the matter.” What about the letter Young man?" he asked. “1 borrowed that from his mothe to show to vou,” she announced, pro ducing another sheet of paper. “Also typewritten” he murmured She nodded. “Also, 1 belleve, frayd home- “unad- have They 1 from the IR HE letter was typed upon a sheet of expensive paper which migh have been the stationery of a com mercial firm of repute. The printed address at the top and telephone number had been cut out. The let- ter itself consisted only of a single sentence “To Mrs. Endell “Madam: Your son, Herbert Endell, has found employment with a firm in this town, and desires me to let you know that he is well and happy.” “No reasons for disappearance given, in either case,” Rocke pointed out. None at all,” she replied. “In my opinion, this letter is as fraudulent as the other one.” He laid them side by side upon his | desk, and studied them for a moment | Then he folded them up and returned them to the girl. “If one is to accept your theory, he remarked, “the fact of your father's disappearance, and this Young man's, becomes more mysteri- ous than ever.” ‘Quite true,” she assented. “What do you wish me to do about it “Leave off decoding silly cipher messages and turn your attention to something worth while,” she told him bluntly. “I know a great deal about your work at the foreign office. It wasn't always what it seemed to be. It was vou who tracked down Nicho- las Green at Bristol—" “That will do,” he interrupted. “Tell me where 1 can communicate with you when I get there. I shall go down to Dredley by the mext train.” “A gentleman to see over the house, sir,” the uncouth-looking but- ler announced, ushering Daniel Rocke into the dining room of Heathside, on the following afternoon. Mr. Joseph Britton laid down the volume which he had been studying. His wife looked eagerly up from the depths of her easy chair. “I hope 1 have not called at an in- convenient time,” Rocke observed. “Mr Harrison, the agent, told me that I could see over the place at any hour.” “You are perfectly in order, sir,” the tenant of Heathside - declared courteously, as he rose to his feet. “L will show you over myself, with pleasure. The house has many good points, but my wife desires a change.” The woman looked across at thelr visitor, He was at once aware of the spell of her eyes “It is really my husband who wishes to travel,” she said softly. “Am I to show Mr— Mr. Rocke,” he put in —Mr. Rocke over the house, or will you, Joseph?" “I will show him over my the brusque reply. Rocke fancied that there was a shadow of disappointment in the woman's face as she resumed her task. Her husband, however, bustled him out of the room. The business elf,” was MR. BRITTON AT ONCE TOOK UP A BOOK AND BECAME EN- GROSSED IN ITS CONTENTS, sl of inspecting the upper rooms was soon concluded. Looking downward from the front bedroom, Mr. Britton noticed a taxicab standing outside, “Is that your cab?” he asked. The prospective tenant of Heath- side nodded. T told him to wait.” * k % ¥ ANIEL ROCKE'S close watch for anything in the least unusual connected with these two people— the only residents in the vicinity who seemed suddenly anxfous to change their quarters—was at last rewarded. There was a look of almost venomous disappointment in his companion's face, as he gazed down at the harm- less taxicab. It was an expression which lingered only for a moment, but it was unmistakable. Daniel Rocke, affecting to notice mothing, turned away. “Rather lazy of me not to walk up,” he remarked, “but I had 18 holes at golf this morning, and want to finish up with a little practice later on. I shall be intere: accommodation you ground floor.” “My wife and 1 are quiet people,” Mr. Britton explained, as he led the way downstairs, “and we live nearly altogether in the dining room and my small study. This is the drawing room, however-—a fine room, but we've never properly furnished it. This is my study,” he added, showing a small apartment, the walls of which were lined with bookcases. “Cozy, as you see, but little cramped.” Danlel Rocke was examining the volumes. “Are you a medical man, Mr. Brit- ton?" he asked, pointing to one of the rows of books. “Come along.” * “Interested in Australia, too, I se his visitor continued, pausing before another shelf. “A colonist, by any chance? “No!" was the short rejoinder. “The books were an inheritance. Would you like to see the gardens now ™" “What is this room?’ Daniel in- quired, pausing before the door with the Yale lock. “Little more than a cupboard. I keep some oddments there— golf clubs and thinge.” Dunlel measured with his 2ye the distance between the door of the next room and the window on the left. “It must be a very large cupboard,” he remarked. “Can I have a look at Gt “Xext time you call, with pleasure,” the other replied “As & atter of fact, 1 have mislaid the key. | Daniel nodded. He seemed indif- ferent about the matter, but he added nother fact to his lttle store. “The gardens aren't much, but per- haps you would like to have a look at them” his companion suggested, 1 ing the way out of doors. | “On the whole, they certainiy justi- | fied their temant's criticism. In the | corner near the footpath, however, & very elaborate Tock garden was in course of erection. You've put in a lot of work there,” aniel observed, thoughtfully T have, indeed,” was the somewhat grudging reply. “Dug every foot of [the ground with my own hande. Waste of time, tos, I'm inclined to think now. If 1 were buying the place I'd pull it down and make a hard tennis court on the top.” “A capital idea,” Daniel assented. “Your agent asked me £4,000 for the house. Is that your lowest?” Yot if price is a material object,” Britton answered, with ill-con- | cealed eagerness. “The fact of it is we want to get away. My wife is nervous. She wants a change—and | at once. T'd like to make a clean job of it, if T could.” “If T decide to buy the houss, T will make you an offer, then, through Mr. Harrison,” Daniel promised. “Why not clinch the business now?’ the other suggested. Daniel shook his head, smiling, as he stepped into his waiting taxicab. “You shall have definite news in the morning,” he assured him. * % ¥ % DANIEL ROCKE caught & fast traln to town, and arrived at a great public office at half-past 3. He made his way to & department which had flourished hugely during the war, but ‘which was now cnnlld':r‘;"l‘y r:;:;’ hfl numbers, and was, in n of reconstruction. The chiet, Col. Sir Fran- cis Worton, K. C. B, D. 8. C, recetved him as an old friend. “What brings you hers, Daniel?” he inquired, pushing acroes a box of clgar- ettes. “] came to ask for your help” was the prompt reply. “Give me a clean sheet of blotting paper, will you? That's right. Now let me have §0 seconds to | complete this work of art.” | With a few deft touches he produced a very reasonable likeness of Mr. Joseph Britton. “Look here,” he continued, “I am in search of a man, probably a criminal, who served through the war in wome capacity or other, who was probably an Australian, and from whose hands and other evidence, 1 judged him to be either a doctor or a surgeon. He is Tiv- ing with his wife in Surrey, and that is an_impression of him.” The chief glanced at tire sketcht and nodded approvingly. “Great gift, that, Daniel,” he declarsd. “Certainly, 1 can tell you the mam’s name and all about him. “Get on with it, please, then. The matter is urgent.” “It it's a criminal affair, or anything of that sort, you are going to be disap- pointed,” Sir Francis warned his visitor. “That {8 a picture of Joseph Londe, the Australian_surgeon, who was given a baronetcy by the King. He was one of the first of the really great surgeons of the world in France, and, poor devil, he | paid for it!" “Tell me about it”" Daniel begged. “He rigged up a sort of traveling feld hospital for operations, and they eay that, during the Mons dabacle he some- times had as many as 80 or 70 bad cases on his hands &t a time. Nothing seemed to tire him. He was three years out there . . . but, then, of course, you've read about him. Very few people know the end of his story, however.” “Tell 1t to me at once, pleave.” Sir Francis sighed. “It was very sad,” he continued. “Ome night, after a simply terrfble weven or eight hours’ wWork—it was in that Cam- brai affair—Londe and his head nuree both went raving mad. They hushed it all up, but he killed two men before they could get hold of him. He and the nurse were both brought home to an asylum somewhere near London. Tt was only last year 1 heard that they were discharged as cured.” “And what beowme of them?” “I believe that they went gquietly back to_Australia.” Dantel rose to his feet. “T'm immensely obliged, Worton,” he acknowledged. “If you'll lunch ‘Wwith me at the club, the day after to- morrow, T'll be glad to tell you all about ft.” “Done, my lad,” was the hearty Te- sponse. “One o'clock sharp, mind. I'm on duty again at 2, Daniel found time to call at his rooms, where he slipped a small re- volver into his pocket. He then caught the next available traim to Dredley, where, on the platform, he had a few very fortunate words with Miss Ann Lancaster. Afterwards he took a taxicab direct to the Gol? Clud, drank & whisky and soda, and with half-a-dozen balls in his pocket and a mashis in his hand, strolled vut to » distant part of the course. In time e renshed a green borderiag the Ir. HE DRAGGED HIMSELF TO THE WINDOW. THERE WERE TWO POLICEMEN THERE AND ANN. straight footpath which bisected the heath and stretched to Dredley. He spent some little time practicing short approaches. Then he straightened up and looked down the path. A woman was com- ing toward him, velled and cloaked yet unmistakable. He devoted him- self assiduously to a series of wrist ghots, and was ‘just collecting the balls, which he had played on to the green, when the woman paused. He looked up. Once more the spell of her eyes was upon him. “Come and talk to me,” she invited "It must be too dark for you to play 1 want 1o know whether you are really thinking about the house?" R THET strolled back together, side by side. The woman’s volce was pleasant. almost caressing. They had reached that part of the footpath now which bordered the gardens of Heathside on one hand end the gardens of another house on the other. The twilight was merging into darkness. Daniel was a brave man, but he suddenly wished that he hed mdopted other tactics. His hand stole into the pocket where his re- volver lay concealed. He felt her fingers slip underneath his other arm. Something fell glittering onto the path. He stooped to pick it up. There was a sound like whistling close to his ears. a jerk around his neck, a sense of stifling. He w vaguely conscious of a man stepping over the wire strand from the garden of Heathside; something was held to his nose; he seemed enveloped by an odor, partly of faded flowers, partly suggestive of an anesthetic. Then the house began to move toward him, the shrubs passed him in solemn pro- cession, an open door swallowed him up into a black gulf. He was in the hall of the house he had called to in- spect earlier in the day. He was in the room behind the stairs, the door of which Britton had opened with a Yale key. He was lying down. The sense of suffocation began to pass, his head grew clearer. only his limbs seemed numbed. The control of his tongue came back. “What are you weakly. Britton turned round from a cup- up to?" he cried | board, with a long, black case in his hand. He spread it out upon a table— a case of surgical Instruments, with tempered blue steel glittering in the electric. light. “Capital! capital'” he exclaimed. “I really believe—I honestly belfeve that you are the man I have been seeking for years.” “What the mischief do vou want with me?” Danlel demanded, trying in vain to sit up. “Just to have a 100k at your brain,” was the pleasant reply. “How are you golng to get at m brain?" Daniel found strength to ask. “Cut it out, of course,” the other explained. “You needn’t have the least alarm. 1 am the greatest oper- ator in the world."” The surgeon took a step forward The knife shone before Danlel's hor- rified eyes like a line of sflver. He tried to shout, but his voice rose scarcely above a whisper. He feit the touch of those cool, strong fingers on the back of his head. It must surely be the end! At the very last moment came an unexpected respite. Heavy footsteps had passed the closely curtained win- dow. The front doorbell pealed through the house. “You had better see who that is” absurd rumors,” he grumbled. Danfel faltered. “It may be som with a better brain than mine. Again the summons of pealed through the house. Londe stole from the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Daniel found himself able to move his arms and legs a little. He swung himself into a sitting posture. Again the bell rang. He heard the sound of stealthy voices in the hall, then silence, after which he fancied that he heard a door opened and closed. Then the ringing of the bell now became more and more imperative. He dragged himself to the window. There were two policemen there— and Ann. He managed to tap it feebly. Soon they heard him. He caught a glimpse of Ann's terrified face outside. Then one of the police- men forced the long window With a clasp knife. They were all in the room. Daniel was just able to stand now. one { the bell | cos “Britton's a lunatic!” he z.xsped.f “Get him if you can. I should have been a dead man in 60 seconds!" Ann Lancaster smiled a lttle wanly. “I felt that you were dolng a fool- | ish thing,” she sald. “I waiched at e other end of the footpath. I saw you throw up your arms as though| you had a fit, and disappear into this | garden. I knew it was no use c‘nxr‘ ing alone, so I rushed down to the| police station.” i “You've saved my life,” he mut-| tered They heard the tramp of the police | through the empty house, the open- | ing and closing of doors, voices mut- | tering—but the men came back un- | successful. The two tragical figures —the great surgeon and his nurse— | had passed out once more into the world of shadows. NN LA * % x x A ASTER was again seated in the easy chair drawn up to the side of-Daniel Rocke's desk. She was in deep mourning—the secret of the rock garden had been blazoned out to a horrified world | “Still no news?’ she asked i “Nothing beyond the usual crop of | “T am | in touch with a friend who will let | me know directly there is a real dis- & should have thought,” she| observed, “that the cleverest crim- | inal in the world would have found | it impossible to slip away from a| place like Dredley and vanish—| especially with a woman. That & lunatic should be able to do so with | the whole of the police force of Eng- | land hot-foot after him, seems | amazing.” - | “Londe is only a lunatic upon one | point,” Daniel reminded her. “He fs | obsessed with the idea of replacing a portion of his own brain with that of another man. Apart from that I belleve he is just as brilliant as ever. That's what makes him so horribly dangerous.” She shivered. “And the woman?’ “She was his favorite nurse, and £he went mad precisely when he did and Looms of France Pro Fashionable Fabrics for BY STERLING HEILIG. PARIS, February 5. HE oldest machine in the world has become the most modern working curlosity of fashion. It is the hand-loom, which dates back, unchanged, be- yond Egypt of the Pharaohs. In villages of French Picardy, hun- dreds of picturesque ld private houses are humming with the work of such hand looms, to produce the ultra-fashionable Kasha cloth for rich American women. To Paris, in a decorative arts exhi- bition, they brought up a specimen hand-loom Wwith its village operator in order that elegant Parisiennes might ‘see roumecla and tissecla made—those gorgeously figured stuffs of silk and cotton. Here is an art industry of the home, in the small town, which was on the point of disappearing in the competi- tion of machinery in great factories. Yet today, under powerful protect- ing influences of Paris, the same old- fashioned hand looms are turning out the most beautiful and expensive of all tissues known to the trade, in wool, silk, mixed silk and cotton, tin- sol and all kinds of variations. It is strictly home work. Around the town of Bohain, in the ] Aisne, the clatter of looms in peasant parlors is the one gentle sound which echoes from street to street. About 2,400 people are able. not. per- haps, to do masterpieces, but actually to work at thelr own looms, in their own homes, in the Aisne, under the direction of a very few houses of Paris. Remember that these obscure French villagers are weaving, all alone, by hand, absolutely the most fashionable and costly tissues! Kasha, for example, is the softest, warmest, pure wool cloth that has ever been made Into blouses, kirts a2d wport coats, of the tenderest, brightest woven colors and designs. The raw wool comes from the Cash- mers goat, which means, in reality, the mountains and valleys of ‘Thibet. Cer- tain samples in the crude state are themselves so sweetly soft and tender that marmufacturers keep little boxes full of films of euch raw wool in the fireproot safe, to show and touch as a phenomenon ! The Cashmere wool costs wholesale from $14 to $20 per kilo (2 pounds). Mafle up into fancy Kasha (not plain, but figured in colors) the piece of near- ly 2 yards long by a width of 1 yard and a fifth sells for about $10 wholesale in Paris. ok K K TB'E great Rodier house of Paris practically runs Bohain and 27 villages around about. At Bohain_are the mills, but to the villages the Rodier motor cars contimu- ally carry the “harness” for “dressing’” hundiooms in village homes, along with the yarns and patterns for each ultra- fashionable novelty. 1 have asked the Rodiers about hand- looms. (You hear about them, nowadaye, in every social conversation, the new dress goods and how to get them, be- cause there are not enough to go round 1) How was the home industry (the old- et known method of weaving fabrios, sy, which goes back beyond e Pharaohs, vea, 3,000 years earlfer than Tut-ankh-Amen, according to vester- day's diacoveries of the American Frith expedition at Sakhara!), how was it organized for making these most modern stuffs? In fact, how was it kept from the ruin which the factory system threatened? “Every time we pass through the vil- lages we feel like taking off our hats to the modest weavers who do every- thing in the home by hand, and become | real artists in doing it!" eaid Messieurs Rodier. “Handlooms require workers whom we do not call workers, but artisans, which means art and not mere routine work. Handlooms require, we think, a taste for such artistic weaving which Is born from generation to generation. “We live in Picardy, where there re- mains some of the old population which always did handweaving from father to son. The family owns the loom—the great wooden frame. All the rest fs brought to it. ‘One Aay it is one disposi- tion. Another day, Another tissue is woven. Two months later it is some- thing else. Every thres months we change. The homeweaver, in his village, never knows what is coming, but e al- Ways agog for something new and beau- tiful. “It requires an artisan with a brain habituated from childhood to take pleasure in the varied and compli- cated products of his own hands, with the habit of the loom and all its in- tricactes. “From the age of 8 years the bo: and girls have lived ‘weave,’ dreamed ‘weave,’ with the hum of the shuttle alwaye in their ears. It is splendid music * e HEN the motor car arrives at the village home with new ‘“har- ness,” new shuttles, new combs, new designs and new varns for weaving | a new fabric, it often takes three weeks before the lone artists can start to weave. They have to “organize” the loom for the new product, run the varns through, perhaps, 5000 little brass rings, to get the shuttles started. To equip a loom means, for the warp alone, the putting into place of 3,000 to 10,000 threads, according as the warp is silk, cotton, wool, tinsel or what not. Kasha, plain, can be produced by machinery; but, as a fact, all that is being used has some considerable ornament woven Into it—which means hand loom by necessity. Take one of the new lainages. It has'a red border. This solid red bor- der, which 1s 8o rich, looks absolute- 1y as if it must have been sewed onto the piece of white or cream woolen material. You would think it could not be joined in any other way. But examination shows that it is not Joined—it is a continuous woven part of the hole. The red border just commences abruptly, straight across the plece, by the width of a thread. THE OLDEST KNOWN METHOD OF WEAVING FABRICS, WHICH GOES BACK BEYOND EGYPT. TODAY, THE MOST BEAUTIFUL AND EXPENSIVE WEAVES ARE PRODUCED ON THE OLD LOOMS FOR THE PRESSMAKING TRADE OF FRANCE. | manuscripts. | ver: | “Tisseola, fancy.” Her madness today consists solc in belicving that what he desires possible.” s she really his wife?" curiously. “They were discharged from dif ferent asylums within & week of one 3 another,” Danlel replied. “They met in London and were married by =p cial license. It was understood th they were leaving at once for Aus tralia A went Ann askec i a on somewhera other,” with a little shiver are free. He is sharpening his kni for his next vlctim, and the lure her eyes {s there, waiting for some poor victim." “Are you golng to keep your post at the foreign office Daniel asked “I hope not,” she answered, “Why “I am starting affairs on my own unt.,” Daniel announced WAL you accept a post with “What are your affairs? quired T have made a bungler's start.” he admitted, “but there new de’| partment of home secret service heinz established—the head of it friend I spoke of—and we are going to find Londe. I am also pledged tof help him in any other of his cases| where my assistance may bhe service. Then, of course, thers is my day-by-day work of decod ipher] 1 do that for any one to employ me. The still sends me the she in who chooses foreign office work “You'll find the work times—you'll have to decoding when there's doing."” “1 don't mind that” she assurad him. “There is just one thing whicl will reconcile me to any amount ¢ drudgery.” He looked at her curlously. her charm. dete tedlous a help with th nothing el For al he realized that she was ned young woman You know what it is” she fnued, after a moment's pause ome day You may get on the tr that man—and there may be chance of helping. He nodded. “I understand. Try and start her on Monday morning, please.” (Copyright, 1925.) ucing America There's the work of the hand looi For such work, an artisan is pal from 35 francs to 40 francs, on a average, for his day’s output, whie! is very greatly more in purchasin power, In provincial France, than th equivalent, by financial exchange, o $1.90 to $2.20. According to the complexity of th design, the home worker will weav from one-half vard to 12 yards pel day. He will work just as he fancie sometimes over 10, 12, or even 1 hours a day, and at other times onl a few hours. The “artistic tempera ment” comes in here—the fine ol village fathers, who are masters i the art, do no small amount of =it ting around and chatting “weave between interminable matches their great card game, manille. “It is the most magnificent kind o home work,” say the Rodiers, “but | takes a long time—and the ardor of the art comes upon them. Then, the do not count their hours, ba sure So, we say, we take off our hats t( them! We have préstige, naturally because we have created so mar things. Since armistica wo h. created more than 20,000 designs’ * * x % t HESE go0d| which are works of art rathe than mere stuffs to make gowns ou of, are of the most striking and ten der woven designs in color. Figured silks bearing such fancy names as Tchinacrope, Crepe Ma junga and Tchin-Tchin recall tha civil war in China, with which the; have nothing in the world to do. Many of these crepes and improve ments on the georgetts of othe: years are of solld colors, such gray, sky-blus or pale green, with wide borders done in hennas, yellows and soft shades of lavender Others carry all-over designs o large that three or four patterns wil make a gown aplece for Janet and Nancy to join hands like matched dominoes! A striking new silk is called grade. Its patterns start In a way, grow large toward the middle of the piece, and again become small near the other end. When the pat- tern 18 a large yellow sunflower with a brown center on a white back- ground the effect is as startling as it is beautiful. A Chinese-like silic has large a?- over patterns done in three different| colors. The first row, let us say, i% black and white; the second and mid dle strip is black, red and white, an in the final patterns green is added The design in each case is the same Now, it is truly wonderful wha fine things the power-looms can tur out, in great modern factorfes. b vear, their triumphs grow greate But—but—for artistic surprise sheer wilful beauty woven into “Kasha, plain” or to or any of a expensive novelties, you must g0 back to the hand loom, to the a tique machine used by Tutankl amen's slaves! It was already older in Tut's d: than Tut's day, now, is older th ours! marvelous dress bod doz