Evening Star Newspaper, September 19, 1926, Page 84

\ T THE LONG BARROW Perhaps a Crime Was R. FORTUNE rang for tea and was given a lady’s ca Miss Isabel Woodall, had no address, wished consult Mr. Fortune. Mizss Isabel Woodall stood up, woman who had been younger, s “emurely handsome. drcssed that she made little of h ‘Mr. Fortune?” she asked. es. I'm afraid you didn't kn: that I'm not in practice now.” But I didn’t come to see you—er— medically. I'm not Hl. I wanted consult you about a mystery.” “Oh! « The police They laugh at handkerchief. ried, Mr. Fortune. And I large, anxious eyes. hearing about it?"” “Do you mi Reggie Fortune decided that he did not mind. He opened the door his_consuiting room. “I'm Mr. Larkin's secretary e-plained. " “Mr. Joseph Larkin; you know him? The antiquary?” murmuerd. “Archeologist,” Miss Woodall rected him. “He's the greatest Reggie Fortu Mr in Fortune. He has a_hou Dorsetshire. just on the border New Forest country. Abb it I wor pect Teen Tt made a note. “T' kinz with lately 1t's been horrible, i'ortune.”” Her voice went up. il somebody wanted to drive Paway. Yes. Now suppose we begin the bezinning. How long have yi been Mr. Larkin's secretary ” . more than ¢ was ever horrible before e stared at him. What do you mean, Mr. hegun “Well, to think,” lite retary, And then?" “Oh. ves, and long after that, s all qu London Larkin took Tas. Mr. Larkin wanted to study t vrehistoric remains about thes But in the Spring N ‘Ihere’s lots of them—ancient earth- nd burial places. o Several long barrows on t| hills. “That's it, Mr. Fortune,” she sal “Mr. Larkin has been making pla to excavate the long barrow abo; Stoke Abbas.” Reggie smiled. see, there isn't anything de he continued. as working against me; as «ome one wanted to hurt me. eing followed, Mr. Fortune. ever I go out alone, I'm followed. Reggie sighed. “Who follows you he said wearily. “But T don’t know! there is somebody. watched.” “Why Woodall?” “That's what I want to know. cried. tune. I've heard him.” “Oh, you are sure it’s a man,” Rei gie smiled. “You don't believe me, do you Miss Woodall was growing angry wi ®im. “That isn’t all. When 1 go ol I'm kel vione, 1 tind dead animals. I've found two crows and another bird—a think it was—and a weasel. hle! She shuddered. “They wel very dead. Just on the path where was walking. “Yes, that's ver: zie. “Yes, I'll look into it, Mi rdall.” e W O N the next day he sat down tunch in The chief of the criminal tion department saw him and tripps acr to his hle. They engagt upon a profound discussion wheth the herring when pickled is the bett for cloves. “In the delights of yo conversation, Reginald,” the Hon. Si ey Lomas protested at last investig: old bird came to me He said." Reggie interrupted, “that e a long barra Jke Albas and somebody was i in® with the proj and n Pody loved him, and w e for, anyway? + »you do from’ the reading i s her sorrow.” Wouodall, the me to vou. did sie? teli me that” ankl didn’t tell nted to e right. si ald? 14 or ¢ eph Was zeing o vou The two men looked at each other. lack of confic abo! Lomas. “*Curious them,” said Yes ' Joseph’s story 1 he goes out alone? < in the path?” for him Tie's They come Lrom outside the hou 1sabel didn’t mention noi red The o them. and her, tor she want oy said he didn’t worry she enot iy e seem: r wald? the wind up. born hoy She's And s wasn't Quecr ¢ doseph is Loma 1 wenth he man of means.” abel came to him Very highly iv smiled he hasnit got a job ank there and evervwhere. Why mighty keen on this particul barrow? Why is Isabel He's on! ity nervous about being followed? no chicken and no fool.” 1 don’t know what eiinadd.” Lomas frowned. do 1. That's what worri 1 want to go and look at S Let me have Underwood * ok % X Abbas N the Sergt icer away road. They Vg before Underwood and bore on the were rushing the hill th: under you, what working Tortune. But 1 don't know lave to do.’ You have to You're a promi: t lookin® for ri New Forest.” Underwood gasped a 5 But Mr. Lomas s Thing abeit a lowg o rightly know what s Larro. teh young entomol litt o He cighed and went ihto the anteroom. She was large and fair, but so plainly and darkly I never go into a mystery ex- t with the police, Miss Woodall.” won’t do anything. " She twisted her “I'm frightfully wor- don’t know what to do.” She looked at him with cor- au- thority on the Stone Age in England, se down Restharrow, As she seemed to ex- him down there. six months now." “Of course not. Fortune? said u_lived a peaceful till you became Mr. Larkin's sec- e peaceful while we were this héuse at Stoke Ab- “It's as if some T When- Only I'm sure should anybody watch you, ‘But somebody does, Mr. For- Horri interesting,” sald!aml I'll tell you all about it."” that one of his clubs.| “I'm for- iting that 1 wanted to speak to y:m_ thi; > Joseph Larkin, an ar hat are the po Mes- just The fair secre- hadn't orried quite | per gone on his What did you make qualified, Woman My dear He's always fussing round vou're getting | morning his car picked up | Southampton he spoke to Under- | my child, do you think Mr. butterflies. re species round the me- | I den't 5 But how does that come into butter- va. | miese ho to “It doesn't. A long barrow is the mound over an old grave. Thousands of vears old." He opened an ord- nance map. ‘“This is our long bar- row. Mr. Larkin and Miss Woodall— who live in that house—want to dig it up. And funny things have been hap- pening. You're going to find & room in a pub somewhere near, but not too near, and watch the barrow and watch them and watch everybody— while catching butterflies.” In Southampton he bought Sergt. Underwood the complete equipment of a butterfly hunter and put him on the train to find his own way to Stoke Abbas. The car bore Mr. For- tune to the bare heath country. There was no sign of life but the hum of bees and the chirp of grass- hoppers and the flies and butterfiies in the heavy air. “Empty, isn’'t it, Sam?" said Mr. Fortune, and got out of the car. “Brighter London!” said Sam the chauffeur. Mr. Fortune took a track across the heather. It was heavy going, rather like a ditch than a path—an old track long disused and overgrown, but its depth showed that many feet must have passed that way once. It passed by a gray hovel lurking in a dip of the moor, where a shaggy donkey was tethered ‘and some fowl of the old gamecock breed scratched in the sand. The thatch of heather was ragged, the mud walls crumbling here and there showed. the wattle framework, the little windows were uncurtained. The track led on to a bluff hill. Mr. Fortune set himself to climb. The hillside was seared by a long scar. When he came to it he found the 'double ditch and bank of an old fort. He scrambled in and out and reached the flat hilltop. There rose the mound of the long barrow of Stoke Abbas. Mr. Joseph Larkin had done no digging yet, nor any one else. A man was squatting in the heavl.‘}w‘n ttle a g1l er- ow to nd of he do ne of ve at ou to binding bunches of it into brooms, ““Oh, 'good-day,” said Mr. Fortune. “What's the name of that thing up there The man lifted his bent shoulders and showed a dark, beardless face. wide across the cheekbones; a big head for his small size. He stared like a startled animal. Do you know the name of that thing up there?" Reggie said again, “Dragon Hill: 'tis Dragon Hill.” the man cried, gathered up his broonis, and slid away through the heather. His legs were short, his speed was surprising. Mr. Fortune trudged back to his car and was driven to the house of Mr. Joseph Larkin. It stood beyond the village in a shrubbery of rhododen- drons, a plain red-brick box. Mr. Larkin was out. Miss Woodall was out, too. The conventional furniture of the drawing room was dismal. Mr. For- tune wandered drearily to and fro till he found on the writing table the catalogue of a second- Mr. Larkin seemed to have an odd | taste in books. Those which he had chosen to mark were a mixed lot— | somebody’s sermons, a child’s picture book, “Mr. Smiles on Thrift,” a his- tory of aviation, “Izaak Walton.” He remarked them in a queer way. A |line was drawn under one | Reggie Fortune pondered. The let- ters underlined were S K U T H A I— probably more farther on in the cat logue. But some one was talking out- ide. Reggie put the catalogue bac A chubby old fellow came in smil Mr. Reginald Fortune? I { | think T have the pleasure——" T “You called on Scotland Yard, Mr. Larkin." Oh, you've come from Mr. Lomas He smiled all over his rosy face. “Now, let'’s just go into the stud It Ir. he re. he id. ns ve fi- if m o ng he - th ut 5. don't re | 1 He did. In the midst of it Miss Woodall arrived. ‘Mr. Fortune! yourself! But how ve: s | ! You've come down to] ¢ kind. smiled on Joseph Larkin. ‘Oh, do you know Mr. Fortune, my dear?” he said, frowning. I didn’t. But he is the great e: you know. I went to him to advice about this horrible a- | ed ed er er ur ‘my dear child, you didn't tell me.” “I couldn’t bear you to be so wor- this barrow, Mr.” Larkin? Reggie murmured. Mr. Larkin began to explain. was something about Phoenician: The Phoenicians, Reggie gathered, had been everywhere and done every- thing before the dawn of time. Mri Larkin had given life to prove ft. lie had found evidence in many pr historic remains. When he came down to Stoke Abbas to complete his hook on “The Origin of Our World" he found this fine barrow. Miss Woodall suggested to him that—— “Oh, Mr. Larkin, I'm afraid it wasn't_ me.” Miss Woodall smiled. I'm not expert enough to advise.” “\Vell, well, my dear, you're a very capable assistant. We "decided that when we'd finished the book we must excavate the barrow on Dragon Hill, | Mr. Fortune. nd that's how the gan,” Reggie murmured. particular reason why | Stoke Abbas”” Mr. Larkin looked at Miss Woodall. 1—I really don't know. I think this house was the most suitable of any that you saw, my dear.” “Oh, much the most suitable. Mr. Larkin must have quiet, you see, Mr. Fortune. oW n- 0- he me. ut | trouble be- “Yes. Any you came’'to to | They dear. purred at each other, nd Reggie felt embarrassed. “Charm- | | ing—if only Mr. Fortune can stop this annoyance. 1 hope you'll s | with us, Mr. Fortune." PRI early to hed at Restharrow. About midnight Mr. Fortune was roused by a whistling roaring noise, such a noise as a gale might make. But there was no gale. | There was a tap at the door and Mr, Larkin came in. “That's the noise. Mr. Fortune.” he said “What s it?” T wonder. Miss Woodall the other side of the house “Yes. I don’'t think she has ever heard it. It only comes and goes, you know. There! It's stopped. Itll come again. Off and on for half an hour or so. Most distressing. What can it be, Mr. Fortune?” I should rather like to know,” | Reggte murmured. When all was quiet at last he got Mr. Larkin to bed. Reggie rose early. He saw the post come in, but Mr. Larkin and Miss | Woodall were both down to take their |letters. Mr. Larkin took the whole 1 ‘ post by pl with little jokes about vour correspondence, my dear.” | appeared to Reggie that the old gen- tleman was jealous in the matter of | his fair secretary. But the only thing for her was a bookseller's catalogue, After breakfast the two shut them- ives into the study to work. M. ctune went upen the moor a THEY went Iy a so | es | at to *‘censoring lo- te. |: and bookseller. | letter. | While she took Reggie's hand she | ried, Mr. Larkin,”—she laid her hand‘ e you specially keen on | It And this is charmingly quiet, my | ul force and sorted it | 1t | Being Planned Under His Very Nose found Sergt. Enderwood in pursuit of a butterfly. / “T never hit the perishing things," Sergt. Underwood said, and mopped his brow. “Never mind. You look zealous. Keep an eye on the hut over there in the hollow. 1 want to know who comes out and what he does.” After lunch Mr. Laskin withdrew to his bedroom. The lady sat in the garden. Reggic went out. To the west of the grounds of Restharrow a clump of elms rose o shelter the house from the wind. Reggle went into one of the elms and climbed till he was hidden. He saw Miss Woodall leave the garden alone. She turned off the road by a footpath which led across the moor. Reggie took binoculars from his pocket. She went some way, looked about her and sat down in the heather. He could see that she bent over a paper. Ahead of her a little dark shape moved in the heather. Miss Woodall rose and walked on. She stopped, she drew aside, looked all about her, and went on more quickly. She was going into the vil- lage, and among the houses he lost sight of her. He met her on her way back. “Alone, Miss Woodall? That's very brave.’t ~ “Isn} it? Do yvou know what I found on the path? “T've seen it. A dead stoat.” “Oh, horrible! What does it mean, Mr. Fortune?” “I shouldn't worry said Reggie. He went on. butterfly net waving. “This s a rum business, sir." Sergt. Underwood protested. *A little fellow came out of that hut, kind of gypsy look, and he mooched about over the heath. Seemed to be looking at snares he had set. He found a beast over that way, and sat down there making brooms.” Then a woman came down from the house, and he chucked the Dbeast on to the path and cut off. Very rum game.” “Nothing in it,” said Reggle sadly. “Well, we'd better deal with him. want you outside that hut after dark.” B OON after dinner that night Mr. Fortune went to his room. He smoked a cizar there, heard the house- hold go to bed, changed into flannels and rubber shoes,and dropped unos- tentatiously out of the window. Among the rhododendrons he waited. It was-a calm, gray night: he could see far, he could hear the faintest sound. Yet he had seen and heard nothing when from behind the hedge which marked off the kitchen garden came that whistling, roaring noise. Mr. Fortune made for it, stealthily, as it seemed to him, silently. But he had only caught sight of a little man whirling sometbing at the end of a string when the noise ended in a whiz and the fellow ran off. Mr. Fortune followed, but the little man soon van- ished into the moor. Mr. Fortune, at a sober trot, made for the hovel under the hill, and as he drew near whistled. He arrived to find Sergt. Underwood sitting on a little man who wriggled. “I'm a police officer, that's what I am,” Underwood was saying. ‘“‘Now don't you be nasty or I'll have to be harsh with you. Reggie flashed a torch in the wide, dark face of the broom-maker, and signed to Underwood to let him sit up. “You've given me a lot of trouble,” he said sadly. “Why do you .worry the lady? She don't like dead stoats. ter donlt belonz on the moor," said the litile man sulki “Her should hide in her own place.” “The old gentleman, too. You've worried him with your noises. It won't do.” fe should leave "Tis none of hisn.” “They are quiet. | They've never done any “Fie, fie! That they have surely, master. They dordevise to dip up old Dragon’s grave. 'Tis a wicked, harm- ful thing.” “It don't hurt vou if they see what's inside the old mound.” “Nay, it don’t hurt Giles. was here before they come, me and mine, ten thousand year and all. Giles will be here when they be gone their way. But 'tis evil to pry into old Dragon's grave. There’s death in it, maste “Whoever died there in your time?"” Reggie said quickly. “Nay, none to my time. But there's death in it, for sure. Bid 'em go their ways, master, and leave the moor quie “They'll do you no harm, my lad. And you mustn't bother them. No more of these tricks of yours, Giles, or we'll have to put you in gaol.” The little man squeaked. “Ah, vou wouldn’t be so hard. I do belong on the moor. me and mine. T don't break ,no laws.” “Oh. yes, you do, hunting these fol You ought to be in gaol now, my lad. You've made a lot of trouble. If there's any more of it about that,” He saw a the land quiet. Quite quiet. harm.” not walking in moor."” “Nay, master, you wouldn't do it to a poor man.” “You be good, then. I know all about you, you know. If the Rest- harrow folks have any more trouble it's gaol for Gile Giles | vou'll be shut up in a little close cell, | the wind on the The little man breathed deep. “The old Dragon can have them for Giles.” “Don't forget. Where's the thing you made the noise with?" The little man pulled out of his coat a bent piece of wood at the end of a cord. When he whirled it round his head it made the whistling roar of a gale. e R. FORTUNE came back to his bedroom by the window and slept _the sleep of the just. He did not reach the breakfast table till Joseph and Tsabel were nearly finished. “All my apologies. 1 had rather a busy night.” Miss Woodall “No, not disturbed. Interested.” Mr. Larkin visibly quivered with curi- osity. He thought Mr. Fortune had gone out. “Out on the moor at night?’ Miss Woodall shuddered. *“I wouldn't do that for anything.” Mr. Fortune tapped his third egg. Why should you? But no one will meddle’ with you, Miss Woodall. That | fellow that made the trouble won't bother you any more.” “Who was it?” she said eagerly. “Well, 1 shouldn't worry. One of the local people suffering from super- stition. He thought it was dangerous to dig up the old barrow. He wanted to scare vou off. He's seen the evil of his ways. I think we'll give him a free pardon. He wouldn't have hurt you. You can rule him out and get on with the excavation.” “But that's magnificent—perfectly magnificent,” Mr. Larkin chirped. “How quick, too! You've really done | wonderfully " well.” He twittered thanks. “You're quite sure about it, Mr. Fortune?” said Miss Woodall. “Nothing more to be afraid of, Miss Woodall.” *"How splendid!” She smiled at him. “O‘h you don't know what a relief it is Mr. Larkin plunged into plans for the excavation. Old White at the Priors had promised to let him have men at any time before harvest. No time to lose. Better see the old man at once. Why not that morning? He did hope Mr. Fortune would stay and watch the excavation. Most inferest- ing. Mr. Fortune shook his head. Perhaps he might be allowed to come down and see the result. “That's a promise, sir—an engage- Mr. Larkin cried. “We shall hold you to that, shan't we. my dear?” “Of course,” said Miss Woodall. They went together to see old White—it seemed impossible for Mr. Larkin to make any arrangements by himself. Reggie was left in the house, walting for his car. He wandered into the study. I hing had been tidied away. liverything but the books was locked up. “Careful souls,” Reggie murmured, and paused by a waste.paper basket. | It had some crumpled stuff in it. He | smoothed out the catalogue of a draper’s sale. Some articles had been marked by a line under a letter. He ran his eye over the pages. T A P H ONOIGEI | the horn of his car. He dropped the catalogue back in the basket and slid out of the study as the doorbell rang. The malid, coming to tell him his car was at the door, found him in his bedroom, writing a letter. The big car purred over the heath, passed a man pursuing butterflies. slowed and stopped. The chauffeur went to examine his back tires. The passenger leaned out and watched. When the car rolled on again there | | was something white by the roadside. | The butterfly hunter crossed the road and picked up a letter. The passenger glanced back. “Now lct her out. Sam,” he said. In the later afternoon the .Hon. Sidney Lon otland Yard, was ¢ rrival of Mr. For ., | watches her jealou | compained. “Finished | E Isabel no charms? | me of your weaker tea would do no harm,” said Mr. Fortune. “Isa- bel's a very interestin’ woman, Lomas. Joseph also has points of interest. They're both happy now Cleared it up, have you? What was it? “It was a son of the soil—bushman type. Probably a descendant of some Drehistoric race. You do find 'em about in odd corners. Family lurk- ing on that moor for centuries. He had a notion if anybody opened the old Dragan barrow death came out of it. Probably a primeval belief. So he set himself to scare off Joseph and Isabel—tokens of death for 'em—the bull-roarer at nights.” What in wonder is a bull roarer?” “Oh, a bit of wood rather like a hoomerang. You twirl it round on the end of a string and it makes the deuce of a row. Lots of savages use them to scare off outsiders and evil spirits” Very curious survival is Giles. Well, we caught him at it and bade him desist.. He's in a holy funk of prison, and he's going to he good. And Joseph and Isabel are gefting on with the excavation.” Lomas smiled. “So it was just the local rustic playing the fool.” “Yes.” Reggie drank his tea. “But tell me some more, Lomas. Why did Joseph and Isabel go down to this place off the map and get keen on already hoped he had not been disturbed. ! he read, and heard | excavating its barrow? nice barrows.” “Do you thigk there’s something special in this one?" “No. 1 think there's something special in Joseph and Isabel. I found | in the house a second-hand booksell- er's’catalogue. Some letters in it were underlined—S K U T H A 1. Prob- ably more. T hadn't time to go on. Joseph came in, and afterward the catalogue vanished. b “Lots of people mark catalogues,” Lomas shrugged. “Yes. But not so that the marks make a word.” “Word ?" “Lomas, my dear old thing, I thought you had a classical education. Skuthai is Greek for Scythians, and in Athens the policemen were Scythi- Lots of other h. this is fantastic!” “Well, today I found a draper’s cat- alogue in a waste-paper basket. Let- ters marked as before—T A PHONOTGE T N. Probably more, again. But that's two words— Taphon oigein, to open the tomb. FEither Joseph or Isabel is making very secret communications with | somebody ahout excavating that bar- | Why?" ou do run on,” Lomas protested. “But what are you starting from? These people have heen doing their | hest to get the police to look into their affairs. If either of them was | up to anything shady, that's the last | thing they'd want.” “There's ahout a dozen answers to | that,” said Reggie fwearily. “Have some? Suppose something suspicious | happens later. Mr. Lomas will say, ‘Oh, nothing in it; these people must be all right. They came and asked us to look into their affairs’ Why, vou're saying that already. In the second place, both of them may not | be in it; perhaps one of them knew | the other was going to the police and | played for safety by going too. Third- |1y, they were both rattled: one of them may have thought somebody knew more than was convenient and wanted to make sure. Fourthly, what- ever the job is, it has something to do with opening this barrow. They're hoth dead keen on that. They wanted to make sure they could do it with- out hother.” ery ingenious, Reginald. And | partially ~ convincing.” Lomas frowned. “If you'll tell me what they |can_get by excavating a barrow, T | might hegin to believe you.” othing,” said Reggle, That's why it's interesting.” “My dear fellow! You have much imagination.” “Qh, no. None." “Well, well. Time will show.” Lomas rose. “If any corpses lie out on the shining sand, L'l let you know."” “That'll be all right,” sald Reggie cheerfully. He did not move. “T left Underwood down th “The deuce you di and sat down again. doing? . “He's catching butterflies. He's | also finding out whether Joseph or | Isabel posts any catalogues and where they go to.” onfound you, he mustn't do that on his own. If you want postal cor- respondence examined we must apply to the postmaster general. You ought | to_know. that, Fortune.” “My dear old thing. T do. I also Don't be | “nothing. | too Lomas stared “And what’s he | | know country post offices. so beastly official.” iy “This is a serious matter.’ “Yes. Yes. that's what T've been [ trying to indicate,” Mr. Fortune emiled. “Look here. These beauties £o down to a place off the map for no decent reason but that it's off the | map. Joseph could write his slll_\"* | books anywhere. Did Isabel (uk_e | Joseph or Joseph take Isabel? Their tories don't agree. Joseph is affec- tionate and lIsabel coy. Joseph and Isabel is When they've been there some | time they get mighty keen on digging up a barrow. Lots of barrows in lots of places, but they must have the lonely one at Stoke Abbas. Then we find them dealing in messages too | secret for a letter in plain English. One message something about police, another about opening the barrow. Well, there's going to be dirty work | at the cross roads, old thing.” | “But it's all fanciful, Fortune. Why the deuce shouldn't they write letters? What's the use of putting a message | in Greek?” i “They're all alone. Each of ‘em can see all the letters the other gets, perhaps all the letters the other post: But a catalogue wouldn't be noticed. | If one of 'em don’t know Greek the marked letters would be absolutely secret. Skuthai didn't suggest an thing to the chief of the criminal in- vestigatlon department.” “But what do you suppose the game meek. ¥ Fortune smiled— | “I have no imagination. Yowve got | all the facts. Oh, not quite. T did a little. distant snapshot of Joseph | and Isabel. He laid a roll of film on the table. “Get the faces enlarged big. Some of your fellows might know ‘em.” * ok K K FTER which nothing happened for a couple of weeks. Then Joseph . dear”—Mr, | Stoke Abbas, | A bookseller's | That clears up several points | to look into M | table, lay a Larkin wrote to Mr. Fortune that the excavation was nearly complete, urg- REGGIE FLASHED A TORCH THE WIDE, DARK FACE OF THE BROOMMAKER AND SIGNED UNDERWOOD TO LET HIM UP. ing him to come and see the result. Three days afterwards, while the car stood at his door to take him to the telephone rang. Hello, Fortune. Are you up? Mar- velous. Just come round here” It was Lomas. He was in an early morning temper. “Some more crazy stuff about that Stoke Abbas case.” He stared at Reggie with a bilious eve. “I put the post office people on to it, more fool me. Here's a report. catalogue was posted on Monday with a number of letters from Restharrow. It was addressed to Miss George, 715 Sand street, | Bournemouth. In it a number of let- | ters were marked, a, b, four e's, g, h. two i's, 1, m, n, p, r, two s's, t and u.” “As you say,” Reggie groaned. “What do you mean? “You said more fool you. Quite so. Why didn't you leave it to Under. wood? He'd have got it all right. | And I told him to give us the letters in order.” ““Confound you, with the mail.” “My dear old thing, vou're too good for this world.” Reggie took pen and paper. “Say it again. A, b—-" He wrote down ABEEEEGHIILMNPR. SSTU and pondered. “You moral men give me a lot of trouble. Here | vou are. PRESBUS GAMEIN THE- LEL And we can't tamper very interestin: “What the deuce does it mean “It means ‘The old man desires to marry.” Yes, I thought so. 1 told| vou you had all the facts. You re- | member Joseph said Isabel had had a | classical education. Not like you, | Lomas. She's sending the messages. She's caught Joseph. It's opening out. Now tell your priceless post of-( fice folk to report the order of the | letters in future. I don’t want to| work - cryptograms because. you've | got a conscience. And send somebody | ss George of 715 Sand | street, good and quick. I'm going | down' to Stoke Abbas. They've | opened the barrow. Oh, by the what about the snapshots “They enlarged well enough. No- body here knows the people.” | “Not known to the police? Well, | well. Get a snap of Miss George. Gooby.” F HAT evening Mr. Fortune stood | on Dragon Hill with Joseph and Isabel. Half a dozen laborers rested on their spades and grinned. The | long mound of the barrow was gone. Tt lay in scattered heaps of & nd | around the cromlech which it had | covered, three upright stones sup- vorting one flat. Under that flat stone, as a man might lie under a skeleton. Regzie knelt down and took up the skull. “Ah, | genuine antique'—he gave a sigh of relief. “I am _convinced he was n,” Mr. Larkin announced. “‘Oh, no,” said Reggi He was not | interested tn Mr. Larkin's theory that everything old was Phoenician. He a_ Phoe- | was thinking that this man of the barrow with his long head and his big cheek-bones and his short wide body must have been much like Giles of the hovel on the moor. An an- cestor, perhaps; 5,000 years ago the family of Giles the broommaker were Kings on the sandhills. But Mr. Larkin went on talking about Phoe- niclans. Reggie was bored. In that condition he remained for | the duration of his visit to Resthar- | row. When Mr. Larkin was not talk. | ing about Phoenicians, or (worse still) reading extracts from his new book | :ins of Our World,” he h Miss Woodall. A mawkish lit tle man. But there was no mystery | about them. The great book was pub- lished, the barrow was opened. ~Mr. Larkin was going to write a pam. phlet about it. close it down again, | marry Miss Woodall, and take her | off to South Africa where he meant | to find many more traces of the| Phoenicians. Reggie wished them | Joy, and as soon as he decently could | went back to London. | Two days afterward Lomas found | MmT:t breakfast. “There’s been another message. TUCHEAPELTHE."” = “Don’t gargle, spell it,” said Mr. (Continued from Second Page.) of school tax, even though the per capita taxation of the District had never been more than $5 a vear! The Civil War period found W. W. Seaton in his eighties, still hale and raddy. still clear of mind and eye, still keen to hunt, “if only his last dog had not died.” Within five vears he lost his friend and brother, Joseph Gales, the wife with whom his life had been of idvilic beauty, and his paper. Moreover, about the veteran seemed to be falling the ruins of the world he knew. The uth, in whose love he was reared, was ruined. The North, whose cause he preferred. was assmuinb the severity of a conqueror, but his own zrasp on the principles | he held true was firm. He was of toc | clear_understanding and of too bal. | anced judgment to be fanatically par- | tisan. ~ No mar who had been a par of the best of the old South could possibly have held the views of radical Abolitionists. Nor—even though Lafay- ette’s horror at slavery may first have | opened his eyes—could one of W. W. Seaton’s incradicable sense of jus. tice and straight-thinking have failed |to be convinced that slavery was a | erime against humanity and was des- | the ultimate destruction of the South. He made this avowal of creed in the | columns of the Intelligencer: “We have long regarded slavery as a deciduous institution, but it must fall by the action of the States them- selves. not by usurped power or con: vulsion * ¢ * Intelligencer have slaves t their of 1l own po Lo liberated more own costz and out long vefore | \ tined, unless it were abolished, to be | ‘The publishers of the | | present agitation than all the aboli- tionists put _together between the Penobscot and the Potomac.” * % ok ok | NEVERTHELESS, with his anti j Federalist principles and logical | mind, he could not but see violation of the principles of the Constitution in forcible emancipation of the slaves. For this would fcrce the will of one ection of the community upon anoth- | :r section which held opposite views. | The Intelligencer published a tem- | verate_but very decided editorial this effect. And, while it is true that | he' threw himself into a lynching mob |to save an innocent negro, lie was | under no illusion as to the difficulty of fitting recently freed slaves for citizenship. Thus the Intelligencer | had been active in proposing African | colonization. - It was to Mayor Seaton that Abraham Lincoln, then mmber |of Congress from Illinois, came for | assistance in trying out the experi- ment of compensated emancipation in the Capital of the Nation. was ready to give his support to this measure, but events moved more rap- idly than Lincoln had anticipated. The growing bitterness between North and South made the execution of the | plan impossible. % The tragedy of the Civil War bore hardly upon Mr. Seaton. The very moderation of his principles was de- | structive to his personal interests. In {time of conflict the man who sees {both ways loses both ways. A short |time before his death W. W. Seaton wrote to Mr. Coyle, who bought the Intelligencer: “The parting with my old paper is painful in the extreme. But the un toward circumstanees of the times to | Mr. Seaton ! Capital’s Unitarians of an Early Day had reduced it to the point of ex- tinction and no alternative was left me but to see it expire, or to transfer it to some younger man who thought that by withdrawing it from the arena of politics and controversy into a news and business sheet they could make it pay. I would, I confess, have preferred for it the dignity of death, but justice to a few {riends around me, who have enabled 'me to sustain t during three years of vainly long- ing for peace and better times, com- pelled me to part with it. Pride and hope induced me to struggle on against the difficulties that beset me. at the sacrifice of everything I pos. sessed: but I was obliged to su comb * * * The loss of two-thirds of my entise circulation by the seces- sion of the South I could have borne: the proscription of the Government I could have borne singly: but the weight of the two united- was too much for me, and, receiving no com- pensatory support, I was forced to vield * * * In the high character of the friends like yourself who have stood by the old journal in its ad- versity and cheered its editor by ap- proval and support, I find a consola- tion which I would not change for better fortune, although I end 52 years of labor with nothing.” In the courage. candor, dignity and level balance of this valedictory are qualities that one welcomes most, per- haps, in age, but that are yet not out of key with the youth who wrote from Halifax, N. C.. to his sweet- heart, Sarah Gales. It is with some- thing like personal exhilaration that one tells one's self that here was man who. through along life in t front rank of effort, held faith wit! his ideals. The buoyant courage youth is merely transmuted 1:1: tr?; calm steadfastness of age. This was to enjoy supreme luxury. Through a span which began with a group of exhausted colonies and ended with a great Nation, touching | the genius of Washington at one end and that of Lincoln at the other, W.. W. Seaton lived a self-realizing life of extraordinary satisfaction. Life | held work at the top peak of effort: | play—whole-hearted enjoyment of | physical vigor, free air, broad spaces —as well as fireside happiness; action that hewed straight to the line of conviction; a_self-respecting sense of his own dignity that resented vig. orously any umwarranted familiari love, enshrined and constant: faith,| a deep trustfulness in the reality of his_spiritual ‘vision. His thrust had neither the flerceness nor the de- structiveness of genius. His life- stream dug no new channel, neither did it devastate. It made a land-| mark by which men might guide their course. -The sounding of the names of his friends builds his mon- ument. Joseph Gales, Webster, Clay, Calhoun, Buchanan, Joseph Henry, Edward Everett, John Quincy Adams, Dickens, La Fayette—the list of these is long, but the list of the unnamed is endless. For no man or woman of importance who came to Wash- ington failed to know the Seatons’ hospltable welcome; and men and women of no importance often found a warmer welcome because it was necessary to put them at their ease, He was known across the continent and across the ocean. It means something when a man ‘ke this. having failed after supreme ffort, can fall acleep In faith. “Yes, TUCHE words. ‘Fortune ' Very kind of her Fortune peevishly. APELTHE. Tw has gone awa to notice it."" Lomas smiled. Miss George to know Mr. Fortune had gone away. That's interesting. And we've got something about Miss George, Reginald. She isn't a wom- an. Oh. no. She's a middle-aged man. who calls himself George Ray mond. He don't live at 715 Sand street. That's a little shop where they take in letters to be called for. George Raymond has lodgings the other end of the town and lives very | quiet. My fellows have a notion he’s American. “Fortune has gone away,” Reggie murmured. I wonder if Fortune ought to have stayed. No. would happen with me in the house. I wonder if anything will happen.” “What, are you giving up. the * Lomas laughed. . There's case all right. But I don't know whether we'll ever get it. Joseph and Isabel are going to marry and be off to South Africa.” Lomas was much amused. *“And that's the end of it alll My poor Reginald! What a climax! tune’s own particular m: orange blossoms and wedding ! “Yes. With Miss George as hest man. 1 hope vour fellows are loak- avp after Miss George.” glving no trouble. They miss him. We've got a pho ‘ograph. too. Nobody knows him, | but we’ll have it enlarged.” “We'll watch him.” dh. certainly: anything to oblige. Have they asked you to the wedding: Reginald? You really ought to send them a present.” * ok K K passed. Reggie ceived an angry letter from M Larkin stating that the British Mu- seum had refused the skeleton, and he was replacing it in the barrow and publishing the full facts to inform WO weeks | the public of the blind prejudice of the official world against his work. He was leaving immediately for South Africa, where he had no doubt of obtaining conclusive proof of the theory of the Phoenician origin of all civilization. Miss Woodall sent Mr. Fortune kind thoughts and best wishe: R in his ortune moved uneasi i ¢ ever nd they lived happi " said Mr. Fortune. He rang Lomas to ask how Miss George getting on. s Many thanks for kind inquiries, said Lomas. thing doing. Not by George. lives the life of a maiden lad. That _evening eame a letter from Sergt. Underwood. The barrow was being covered up. The servants were aving Restharrow. Mr. Larkin and Woodall were going to be mar- ried at the registry office tomorrow, and the next day sailing from South- ampton. / Mr. Fortune was fretting in his dreariest club next morning when the telephone called him to Scotland Yard. Lomas was in conference with Supt. Bell. Lomas was brusque. “They've lost George Raymond, Fortupe. He left Bournemouth this morning with a suit case. He went to Southampton, put it in the cloak- room, went into one of the big shops, and hasn't been seen since. When they found they'd lost him they went back to the station. His suit case was He well,” said Mr. Fortune. e been and gone and done it But he smiled. \Vhat do you want us to do now?" | watch Raymond might b ke sure G. can I've a hing els “You might give me a time-table, said Mr. Fortune. “I'm going down to the long barrow.” e S darkness fell on the moors that night Mr. Fortune and Supt. Bell stopped a hired car a_mile away from Stoke Abbas and walked on through the shadows. When they came near anged for all that. Any- the shrubberies of Restharrow a voice | spoke softly from behind a clump of gorse: ““Got your wire, sir. They were married this morning. Both in the house now. Servants all gone. No one else been here.” Reggie sat down beside Sergt. Un- derwood. “Seen any one strange about?" “I did fancy I saw some one going up toward the barrow a while ago.” “Work up that way quietly. Don't phow yourself.” Sergt. Underwood vanished into the night. Bell and Reggie sat waiting while the stars grew dim in a bldck sky. The door of Restharrow opened and a bar of light shot out. They heard voices. “A beautiful Larkin. “The most beautiful night that ever happened,” said Mrs. Larkin. “Let us £0 up to the dear old barrow. T shall always love it. you know. It brought us together, my dearest “My dear child,” Mr. Larkin chirped, “you are full of pretty thoughts.” They walked on, arm in arm. A long way behind Reggie and Supt. Bell followed. When they came to the crest of the hill, where the turned sand was white in the gloom, “Dear place,” sald Mrs. Larkin. “How sweet it is here! I think that old Phoenician was lucky, don’t you, Joseph dearest?"” A man rose up at Joseph dearest and grasped his head. There was no struggle, no noise, a little swaying, a little scuffie of feet in the sand and Joseph was laid on his back and Isa- All clear here. night,” said Mr. | bel knelt beside him. The other man turned aside. There was the sound of a space. Then Sergt. Underwood arrived on his back. They went down together. Bell charged up the hill to catch Mrs. Larkin as she rushed to help. But Underwood al- ready had his man handcuffed and jerked him on to his feet. Reggie came at his leisure and took ad of cotton-w Mr. ‘s face. “Who i friend a your “So Tsabel wanted | Nothing | the Cape boat when she salls—if you | with the chloroform, Mrs. Larkin® he said gently. ‘You fiend.” she panted. say a word, George." “Oh, yes, 1 know he's George, Reggle. Sergt. man in “Don Underwood atared from th andcuffs to the man on th: ground. “Good heavens! Which hat I got. i For the man who stood was of the same small plump size a rkin, gray haired, clean shaver ressed in the like dark clothes good make-.up. That wa wasn't it, Mrs. Larkin d_better get the real M Larkin to the hospital.” He whistled across the night and the hired ca: surged up to the foot of the hill. M Larkin was carried to it, it bore hin and Reggle away and behind them Mrs. Larkin and George, handcuffe wrist to wrist, tramped long miles 1. a police station. A little man lying in the heather on the hill watched them go. “Gilos knew he would have her,” and I capered home to his hut on the moo: * o ox % UPERINTENDENT BELL comins into an mn_at Wimborne next morning saw Mr. Fortune dealing heartily with grilled salmon. “You had a bad night, sir,” he said with sympathy. Yes. Poor Joseph was very upset Can you wonder? It's disheartenin to a husband when his wife attempt= murder on the wedding night. D> stroys confidenc “Confider beauties, George. to bur; “Yes. ver: hes a pair of the woman and this chap 1 suppose they were going poor Larkin alive.” Yes. He wouldn't have been lively, of course.” “T should say not. | think that fellow had on “Well, chloroform, istol, suppose. iol. That's it." Superintendent Bell gazed at him with admiration. “it’s wonderful how you know men, Mr Fortune.” Mr. Fortune smiled. think of everything. weakness. Just a little too carefn! But it's a beautiful plan. Grave all ready, nice light soil, spades handy chloroform the old man, pour vitriol | over him, bury him. Not likely any one would open that barrow again in a century. If they did, only an un known corpse inside. Nohody missing No chance anybody would think the corpse was Mr. Larkin who sailed for South Africa alive and kicking. And | George and Isabel are Mr. and Mys Larkin and live happy ever after on | the Larkin fortune. If only she hadn't | taken such pains about a grave, if {only she hadn't bothered about Giles if only they hadn't been so clever with their secret messages, they'd have brought it off. Poor old Josepi though. He's very cut up. He fear Isabel never really loved him. But he don’t want to give evidence against her, poor old thing. “I don’t wonder,” said Bell. “He'll look a proper fool in the witness box There was a sprightly noise with out. Lomas came in and on the heels of Lomas a solid man with the face of a Roman emperor. “Reginald, my dear fellow, all my congratulations,” Lomas chuckled. “You told me so. You really did. Splendid case. This is Mr. Bingham Jackson of the American service." “I_want to know Mr. Bingham Jackson. ““This is good work. We wanted those two and we wanted ‘em bad.” “When Mr. Jackson saw your pho tographs of George and isabel he called for champagne,” Lomas chuck What do vou him, s of course. Probably A som¢ “I knew they'd That's their vou. sir.” said “Yes, 1 thought somebody ought f« know them.,” sald Mr. Fortune. ! ‘kson nodded im 3 ot new. Isabel and George Stultz_are citizens of some reputation. We shall be right glad to have them back. They eliminated Mrs. Stanton Johnson of Philadelphia and got off with her collection of an tique jewels. They used morphia and a ceilar then. One of our best crimes.” . “This is going to hush up Joseph's trouble,” said Mr. Fortune with sat isfaction. “You'll claim their extra dition for murder? “Sure thing. They murder off on our side. say, Mr. Fortune, I do admire your | work. You have flair.” Not nice people, Isabel and George. {you know,” said Reggie dreamlly. *I |get nerves when people aren't nice {and_ordinary “Some nerves,’ (Copyright. The Jumping Beans. IN the Southwestern States and in Mexico are found some sorts of beans which will hop from side to side, back and forth, in a most curi ous manner. If a circle he drawn upon the ground or several of the beans placed upon any flat surface certain of them may lie perfectly stili while one or two more are jumping about in a lively manner. Very sud denly the quiescent ones may seem to wake up, and off they go in stead: hops. This bean, which resembles the ker nel of coffee and is about the same size, is generally abundant in the month of April. Tt can be bought for a few cents, according to the size and the distance it will jump. It is said that the jumping is caused by the presence in the bean of the pupa of an insect, the movements of which cause this queer behavior on the part of the bean. With ordinary care the worm will exist for months - . Finest Lines. T\\’h NTY-FIVE THOUSAND lines to the inch—could you draw them? No human being has been able to do such fine work, but Dr. Wilmer Souder, physicist at the United States Bureau of Standards, has devised a machine that will draw these fine Dlince. 18 will e of ~reat assletance in many ph naineering deosn brought the I want to sald Mr. Jackson. 1926,