Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, October 4, 1902, Page 6

m Crimson By Fred M. White Blind CHAPTER XLVI. Where Is Rawlins? Lord Littimer was greatly interest- ed in all that Chris had to say. The whole story was confided to him after dinner. Over his coffee on the ter- race he offered many shrewd sugges- tions. “There is one thing wherein you have made a mistake,” he said. “And that the idea that Henson changed those cigar-cases after Miss Gates laid your votive offering on Steel’s door- step.” “How else could it be done?” Chris said “My dear, the thing is quite obvious. Your have already told me that Hen- gon was quite aware what you were going to do—at least that he knew you were going to consult Steel. Also, he knew that you were going to make Steel a pr nt, and by a little judi- cious eavesdropping he contrived to glean all about the cigar-case. The fellow hi already admitted to your sister that he listened, How long was that before you bought the cigar- case [ 1ould say it might have been a week. We had inquiries to make, you know. In the first instance, we never dreamed of offering Mr. Steel money. I blush to think of that folly.” “Well, blush a little later on, when you have more time. Then Henson had a week to work out his little scheme. He knows all about the cigar- case; he knows where it is going to be bought Then he goes to Lockhart’s and purchases some trifle in the shape of a cigar-case; he has it packed up, yellow string and all. This is his dummy. By keeping his eyes open he gets the chance he is waiting for. Ruth Gates hadn't the faintest idea that he knew anything when she left that case, the day she bought it, within reach of Henson. He gets her out of the way for a minute or two; he unties the par- cel and places the Van Sneck case in it. No, by Jove, he needn’t have pur- chased anything at Lockhart’s at all. I only thought of that to account for the yellow string and the stamped pa- per that Lockhart’s people use. He first takes one case out of the parcel and replaces it with another, and there you are. You'may depend upon it that was the way in which it was done.” The more Chris thought over the matter the more certain she felt that such was the case. Like most\appar- ently wonderful things, the explana- tion was absurdly simple. A conjur- er's most marvellous tricks are gener- ally the easiest. “How foolish of us not to have thought of this before,” Chris said, thoughtfully. “At any rate, we know all about it now. And we know who bought the cigar-case so promptly re- turned to Lockhart’s by Henson. I should like to see this Rawlins.” “You have got to find him first,” said Littimer. 2 “I’m goir.g to Moreton Wells to-mor- row to make inquiries,” said Chris. But she was saved the trouble. Once more the ever-blessed telephone stood her in good stead. She was just on the point of starting for Moreton Wells when Steel called her up. Chris re- cognized him with a thrill of eager pleasure. “Yoy need not be afraid,” she said. “You can speak quite freely. How is Van Sneck?” “Very queer,” David responded. “Bell hoped to have operated upon him before this, but such a course has not been deemed quite prudent. The day after to-morrow it will be, I expect. Henson has found out where Van Sneck is.” “Indeed! Has he been to see you?” “He has been here more than oncé, on all kinds of ingenious pretences. But I didn’t call you up to tell you this. ‘We have been making inquiries at Wa- len’s, Marley and myself. The time has now come to let Marley behind the scenes a bit.” “Did Walen’s people know anything about the tall American?” “Oh, yes. A tall American with a thin beard and a faint suggestion of small-pox called about a week before the great adventure, and asked to see some gun-metal diamond-mounted ci- gar-cases—like the one in Lockhart’s window.” “Did he really volunteer that re- mark?” “He did, saying, also, that Lock- hart’s was too dear. Walen’s hadn’t got what he wanted, but they promised to get some cases out of stock, which meant that they would go to the same wholesale house as Lockhart and get some similar cases. As a matter of fact, one of Walen’s assistants was sent round to study the case in Lock- hart’s window. The cases were pro- cured on the chance of a sale, but the American never turned up again. No notice was taken of this, because such things often happen to shopkeepers.” “And this was about a week before the night of the great adventure?” “Yes. Wait a bit. I have not quite finished yet. Now, once I had ascer- tained this, an important fact became obvious. The American didn’t want a eigar-case at all.” “But he subsequently purchased the ene returned to Lockhart’s shop.” “That remark does not suggest your usual acumen. The American was pre- paring the ground for Van Sneck to purchase, with a view to a subsequent exchange. You have not fully grasped the vileness of this plot yet. I went to Lockhart’s and succeeded in discoy-, ering that the purchaser of the re- turned case was a tall American, quite of the pattern I expected. Then I man- aged to get on to the trail at the Metro- pole here. They recollected, when I could describe the man; they also re- collected the largeness of his tips. ‘Then I traced my man to the Lion at Moreton Wells, where he had obviously gone to see Reginald Henson. From the Lion our friend went to the Royal, at Scarsdale Sands, where he is stay- ing at present.” “Under the name of John Smith?” “T suppose so, seeing that all the in- quiries under that name were success- ful. If you would like me to come up and interview the man for you—” “I should like you to do nothing of the kind,” Chris said. “You are more useful in Brighton, and I am going to interview Mr. John Smith Rawlins my- self.’ Good-bye. Just one moment. For the next few days my address will be the Royal Hotel, Scarsdale Sands.” Chris countermandéd the dog-cart she had ordered, and repaired to the library, where Littimer was tying some trout flies behind a cloud of cigarette smoke. “Thought you’ had gone to Moreton Wells,” he said. “Been at the tele- phone again? A pretty nice bill I shall have to pay for all these long messages of yours.” “Mr. Steel pays this time,” Chris said, gaily. “He has just given me some information that obviates the ne- cessity of going to town. My dear un- cle, you want a change. You look tired and languid—” “Depression of spirits and a disin- clination to exercise after food. Also a morbid craving for seven to eight hours’ sleep every night. What’s the little game?” “Bracing air,” Chris laughed. “Lord Littimer and his secretary, Miss Lee, are going to spend a few days at Scars- dale Sands, Royal Hotel, to recuperate after their literary labors.” “The air here being so poor and en- ervating,” Littimer said, cynically. “In other words, I suppose you have traced Rawlins to Scarsdale Sands?” “How clever you are,” Chris said, admiringly. “Walen’s American and Lockhart’s American, with the modest pseudonym of John Smith, are what Mrs. Malaprop would call three single gentlemen rolled into one. We are go- ing to make the acquaintance of John Rawlins Smith.” . ‘Oh, indeed, and when do we start, may I ask?” Chris responded, coolly, that she hoped to get away in the course of the day. With a great show of virtuous resignation, Lord Littimer consented. “I have always been the jest of for- tune,” he said, plaintively; “but I nev- er expected to be dragged all over the place at my time of life, by a girl who is anxious to make me acquainted with the choicest blackguardism in the king- dom. I leave my happy home, my cook and my cellar for at least a week of hotel living. Well, one can only die once.” Chris bustled away to make the ne- cessary arrangements. A few hours later Lord Littimer was looking out from his luxurious private sitting room with the assumption of being a mar- tyr. He and Ghris were dressed for dinner; they were waiting for the bell to summon them to the dining room. When they got down, at length, they found quite a large number of guests already seated at the many small ta- bles. “Your man here?” Littimer asked, languidly. Chris indicated two people seated in a window opposite. “There!” she whispered. “There he is. And what a pretty girl with him!” CHAPTER XLIX. A Chevalier of Fortune. Littimer put up his glass and gazed, with apparent vacancy, in the direction of the window. He saw a tall man with a gray beard and hair; a man al- most immaculately dressed and dis- tinctly distinguished appearance. Lit- timer was fain to admit that he would have taken him for a gentleman under any circumstances. In manner, style and speech, he left nothing to be de- sired. “That chap has g fortune in his face and accent,” Littimer said. ‘“’Pon my word, he is a chance acquaintance that one would ask to dinner without the slightest hesitation. And the girl—”’ “Is his daughter,” Chris said. “The likeness is very strong.” “It is,” Littimer admitted. “A sin- gularly pretty, refined girl, with quite a giand air. It is an air that mere edu- cation seldom gives; but it seems to have done so in yonder case. And how fond they seem to be of one another! Depend upon it, Chris, whatever that man may be, his daughter knows noth- ing of it. And yet you tell me the po- lice—” “Well, never mind the police now. We can get Mr. Steel to tell Marley about ‘John Smith,’ if we can’t contrive to force his hand without. But, with that pretty girl before my eyes, I shouldn’t like to do anything harsh. Up till now I have always pictured the typical, educated scoundrel as a man who was utterly devoid of feelings of any kind:” Dinner proceeded quietly enough, Chris having eyes for hardly anything else beyond the couple in the window. She rose presently, with a little gasp, and hastily lifted a tankard of iced water from the table. The girl op- posite her turned pale and her dark head had drooped forward. “I hope it is not serious,” said Chris. “Drink a little of this; it is iced.” “And they told me they had no ice in the house,” the man Rawlins muttered. “A little of this, Grace. It is one of her old fainting fits. Ah, that is bet- ter.” : the ten- The man Rawlins spoke wit derest solicitude. The look of positive relief on his face as his daughter smiled at him told of a deep devotion ou affection foe! me girl. Chris, look- ing on, was wondering, vaguely wheth- er or not she had made a mistake, “Lord Littimer obtained our ice,” she said. “Pray keep this. Oh, yes, that. is Lord Littimer over there. I am his secretary.” Littimer strolled across himself and murmured. his condolences. A little later, and the four of them were out on the veranda taking ices together. Rawlins might have been, and no doubt was, a finished scoundrel; but there was no question as to his fascinating manner and his brilliant qualities as a conversationalist. A man of nerve, too, and full of resources. All the same, Littimer was asking himself and won- dering who the man really was. By birth, he must have been born a gen- tleman, Littimer did not doubt for a moment. But there was one soft spot in the man, and that was his love for his daughter. For her sake he had been traveling all over the world for years; for years he had despaired of seeing her live to womanhood. But she was gradually growing better; indeed, if she had not walked so far to-day noth- ing would have happened. All the time that Rawlins was talking his eyes were resting tenderly on his daughter. - The hard, steely look seemed to have gone out of them altogether. Altogether a charming and many- sided rascal, Littimer thought. He was fond, as he called it of collecting types of humanity, and here was a new and fascinating specimen. The two men talked together until long after dark, and Rawlins never betrayed him- self. He might have been an ambassa- dor or cabinet minister unbending af- ter a long period of heavy labor. Meanwhile, Chris had drawn Grace Rawlins apart from the others. The girl was quiet and self contained, but evidently a lady. She seemed to have but few enthusiasms, but one of them was her father. He was the most won- derful man in the world, the most kirid and considerate. He was very rich; indeed, it was a good thing, or she would never have been able to seg so much of the world. He had given up nearly the whole of his life to her, and now she was nearly as strong as other girls. Chris listened in a dazed, con- fused kind of way. She had not ex- pected anything like this; and when had Rawlins found time for those bril- liant predatory schemes that she had heard of?” ““Well, what do you think of them?” Littimer asked, when, at length, he and Chris were alone. “I suppose it isn’t possible that you and I have made 2 mistake?” “I’m afraid not,” Chris said, half-sad- ly. “But what a strange case alto- gether.” “Passing strange. I'll go bail that man is. born and bred a gentleman; and what is more, he is no more of an American than I am. I kept on for- getting, from time to time, what he was, and taking him for one of our own class. And, finally, I capped my folly by asking him to bring his daugh- ter for a drive to-morrow and a lunch on the Gapstone. What do you think of that?” e “Splendid,” Chris said, coolly. “‘Noth- ing could be better. You will be good enough to exercise all your powers of fascination upon Miss Rawlins to-mor- row, and leave her father to me. I thought of a little plan to-night which I believe wHl succeed admirably. At first I expeeted to have to carry mat- ters with a high hand, but now I am going to get Mr. Rawlins through his daughter. I shall know all I want to by to-morrow night.” Littimer smiled at this sanguine ex- pectation. “{ sincerely hope you will,” he. said, | drily. ‘But I doubt it very much, in- deed. You have one of the cleverest men in Europe to deal with. Geod- night.” i But Chris was in no way cast down. She had carefully planned out her line of action, and the more she thought of it the more sure of success she felt. A few hours more and—but she didn’t. care to dwell too closely on that. It was after luncheon that Chris’ op- portunity came. Lord Littimer and Grace Rawlins had gone off to inspect something especially beautiful in the way of a waterfall, leaving Chris and Rawlins, alone. The latter was talk- ing brilliantly over his cigarette. “Is Lord. Littimer any relation of yours?” he asked: “Well, yes,” Chris admitted. “I hope he will be a nearer relation be- fore long.” “Oh, you mean to say—may I ven- ture to congratulate—” “It isn’t quite that,” Chris laughed, with a little rising in color. “I am not thinking of Lord Littimer, but his son. Yes; I see you raise your eyebrows— probably because you are aware of the story, as most people are. And you are wondering why I am on such friend- ly terms with Lord Littimer, under the circumstances. And I am wondering why you should call yourself John Smith.” The listener coolly flicked the ash from his cigarette. His face was like a mask. “John Smith is a good name,” he said. “Can you suggest a better?” “If you ask me to do so I can. I should call myself John Rawlins.” There was just the ghost of a smile on Rawlin’s lips, “There is a man of that name,” he said, slowly, “who attained: consider- able notoriety in the States. People said he was the derniere cri of refined rascality. He was supposed to be with- out any kind of feeling; his villainies were the theme of admiration among financial magnates. There were. brok- ers who piously thanked Providence because Rawlins had never thought of going on the stock exchange, where he could have robbed and plundered with impunity. And this Rawline always baffles the police. If he baffles them a little longer they won’t be able to touch him at all. At present, despite his out- ward show, he has hardly a dollar to call his own. But he is now on a great coup, and, strange to say, an honest one. Do you know the man, Miss Lee?” Chris met the speaker's eyes firmly. “T met him last night for the first time,” she said. “In that case you can hardly be said to know him,” Rawlins murmured. “If you drive him into a corner, desperate things. gameon with him for the rest of yor you are like a child - ae led machinery. Why do you “That I will tell you, presently, Mr. Rawlins, You have sore : hastily. the other one. I should be sorry to show you the other one.” A “For the sake of your daughter, I don’t want to see the other one.” “Then why do you pit yourself against me like this?” “IT don’t think you are displaying your usual lucidity,” Chris said, coolly. Her heart was beating fast, but she did not show it. “Just reflect for a mo- ment. I have found you out. I know pretty well what you are. I need not have told you anything of this. I need have done no more than gone to the police and told them where to find you. But I don’t want to do that; I hate to do it, after what I saw last night. You have your child, and she loves you. Could I unmask you before her eyes?” “You would kill her,” Rawlins said, a little unsteadily; “and you will kill me, I verily believe. world to me. I committed my first theft so that she could have the change the doctors declared to be absolutely necessary. I intended to repay the money—the old story.- And I was found out by my enemies and dis- charged. Thank goodness, my wife was dead. Since then I have preyed on society. . But I need not go into that sordid story. You are not go- ing to betray me?” “I said before that I would do noth- ing of the kind.” “Then why do you let me know that you have discovered my identity?” “Because I want you to help me. I fancy you respect my sex, Mr. Raw- lins?” “Call me Smith, please. I have al- ways respected your sex. All the kind- ness and sympathy of my life have been from women. And I can lay my hand on my heart and declare that I never yet wronged one of them in thought or deed. The man who is cru- el to woman is no man.” “And yet, your friend, Reginald Hen- son, is that sort.” Rawlins smiled again. He began to understand a little of what was passing in Chris’ mind. “Would you mind going a little more into details?” he suggested. “So Hen- son is that sort. Well, I didn’t know, or he had never had my assistance in his little scheme. Oh, of course, I had known him for years as a scoundrel. So he oppresses women?” < “He has done so for a long time; he is blighting my life, and the life of my sister, and another. And it seems to me that I have that rascal under my thumb at last. You cannot save him— you can do no more than place obsta- cles in my way; but even these I should overcome. And you admit that I am likely to be dangerous to you?” “You can kill my daughter. I am in your power to that extent.” “And if I should,” Chris said. “It is only Reginald Henson that I want to strike. I want you to answer a few questions; to tell me why you went to Walens and induced them to procure o certain cigar-case for you, and why you subsequently went to Lockhart’s, at Brighton, and bought a precisely simi- lar one.” Rawlins looked in surprise at the speaker. A tinge of admiration was on his face. There was a keenness and audacity after his own heart. “Go on,” he said, slowly. “Tell me everything, openly and freely, and when you have done so I will give ypu all the information that lies in my power.” CHAPTER L.. Rawlins Is Candid. “So Reginald Henson bullies wom- en?” Rawlins said, after a long pause. There was a queer smile on his face; he appeared perfectly at his ease. He did not look in the least like a desper- ate criminal whom Chris could have driven out of the country by one word to the police. In his perfectly-fit- ting gray suit, he seemed more like a lord of ancient acres than anything else. “It is not a nice thing to bully women.” “Reginal Henson finds it quite con- genial occupation,” Chris said, bitter- ly. Rawlins pulled thoughtfully at his cigarette. “T am, to a certain extent, in your power,” he said. “You have discov- ered my identity at a time when I could sacrifice thousands for it not to be known that Iam in England. How you have discovered me matters as lit- tle as how a card player gets the ace of trumps. And I understand that the price of your silence is the betrayal of Henson?” “That is about what it comes to,” said Chris. “In the parlance of the lower type of rascal, I am to ‘round on my pal?” “If you like to put it in that way, Mr. Smith.” “I never did such a thing in my life before? And, at the same time, I don’t mind admitting I was never so sorely tried. At the present moment I am on the verge of a large fortune, and I am making my grand coupe honestly. Would you deem it exaggeration on my part if I said that I was exceedingly glad of the fact?” “Mr‘ Smith,” Chris said, earnestly; “I have seen how fond you are of your daughter.” “That is an exceedingly clever re- mark of yours, young lady,” “Rawlins smiled. “You know that you have found the soft spot in my nature, and you are going to hammer on it until you reduce me to submission. I am not a religious man, but my one prayer is that Grace shall never find me out. When my coupe comes off I am going to settle in England and become in- tensely respectable.” “With Reginald Henson’ for your sec- retary, I suppose?” “No. I am going to drop the past. But to return to our subject. Are you ee me to betray Henson to the po- ice? ‘ “Nothing of the kind!’* Chris cried, “I—would do anything to avoid a family scandal. All I want isa controlling power over the man.” “The man who bullies women?” That child is all the’ ical weys, perhaps because'I never did anything of the kind myself. No one can say that I ever robbed anytody who was poor, or defenseles or foolish. By heavens, I am a more honest man than hundreds of London and New York capitalists! Itis the hard rogues among us who have always been my mark. But to injure and wound wom- en and children!” “Which means that you are going to help me?” Chris asked, quietly. “As far as I can, certainly. Espe- cially as you are going to let Henson down easily. Now, please ask me any questions you like.” “This is very good of you,” said Chris. “In the first place, did you ever hear Mr. Henson speak of his relations or friends?” “Nobody beyond Lord Littimer. You see, Henson and I were extremely use- ful to one another once or twice, but he never trusted me and I never trust- ed him. I never cared for his meth- ods.” “Did you go to Brighton lately on purpose to help him?” “Certainly not. I had business in Brighton for some considerable time, and my daughter was with me. When she went to stay with friends for a short time I moved to the Metropole.” “Then why did you go to Walen’s, in Brighton and ask them to show you some gun-metal cigar-cases like the one in Lockhart’s window?” ‘Simply because Henson asked. me to. He came to me just before I went to the Metropole and told me he had a big thing on. He didn’t give me the least idea what ft was, nor did I ask him. He suggested the idea of the cigar-case, and said that I need not go near Walen’s again, and I didn’t. I assure you I had no curiosity in the matter. In any case, a little thing-like that couldn’t hurt me. Some days later Henson ‘came to me again and asked me to go to Lockhart’s and pur- chase the cigar-case I had previously seen. He wanted me to get the case so that I could not be traced. Again I agreed. I was leaving the Metropole the next day, so the matter was easy. I called and purchased the cigar-case on approval, I forwarded $1 notes in payment from the Metropole, and the next day I left.” “And you did all that without a sin- gle question?” “I did. It was only a little consider- ation for an old confederate.” ““And suppose that confederate had played you false?” (To be Continued.) SWIFT YOUNG MOUNTAIN LAMB. Ernest-Thompson Seton Tried to Give a Wild Animal Catcher a Pointer and Was Rebuked. Before college closed last spring, Ernest-Thompson Seton went out to Stanford University to deliver a lec- ture on wild animals to whom he had introduced himself, or some kindred subject. He was entertained at din- ner before the lecture, and about the board were several Western zoologists of prominence. One strenuous young Westerner, whose occupation lies in catching wild animals alive, spoke of a commission he had received to cap- ture some Rocky Mountain sheep. “How will you go about it?” ques- tioned Mr. Thompson. , “I'll try to get them when very young lambs,” said the young man, “before they are able to move abou rapidly.” “You'll never be able to do it,” said the author-lecturer “Don’t you know that an hour after birth a mountain goat can move about the rocks faster than you can run?” “Did you ever see one do it?” asked the young man, quietly. “No,” said Mr. Thompson, “but an old mountaineer told me they could.” “Well, Mr. Thompson, you know that old mountaineer, and we don’t.” The subject of conversation changed. —New York Times. A Tragedy. “So this is the end?” he cried. “1 had thought—Ah, but I might have known. You are all alike. You lead a man to’hope, and then, when your fickle fancy turns, you leave him for another.” He laughed aloud in his frenzy; then, of a sudden, his mood changed. “But you shall not rob my life of all it holds. I shall blot you out—forget you. I shall find another, by and by, to fill your place—one who can make flannel cakes that are fit to eat and who will not burn the roast” Without another word he paid off the last hired girl, and turned to sup- port his wife, who was about to faint. —Judge. { Proof About “Caesar’s Camp.” Rowing out in a boat at Folkestone toward Shakespeare’s Cliff, the weath- er-beaten longshoreman pointed outito the American visitor, with great pride, the hill called “Caesar’s Camp.” “How do you know it was Caesar’s Camp?” he was asked. “Well, I can’t say for sartin it was; all I know is they’s allus diggin’ up old guns and bayonets and suéh like.”— London Express. Another Strike. “Brer Will’ums, how you_gwine ter vote dis fall?” “T ain’t gwine ter vote, yo heah me?” “Why not?” “Kase dis t’ing ob ’telligence cullud patrit exorcisin’ de universal suffridge fer de prices whut am offer’d dese days am beneaf my condignity an’ reb- erence fer de ’mancipashun prockyma- shun! Now yo’ heah me, don’t you?” —Atlanta Constitution. Man of Expedients. “Mixem, the chemist, has made his fortune at last,” says the friend. “But I thought he couldn’t find any sale at all for his cough mixture,” an- swered the other friend. ‘ “He couldn’t; so he labeled it ‘gen- uine maple syrup,’ and sold évery drop of it the first cool day we had. Now he is rushed with orders for it.”— Judge. ED. ‘ Might Be Worst. — Mrs. Parvenue—And then the whole awful story got into the papers. mili sath ron a aie he si e. re peen dramatized—Judge. Easily Settled. Landlord—t will just give you three give you days to pay Artist—All right. Life. pathy with his methods and hypoerit. | cpemearas | Es SHE CRIED WHEN SHE PUT HER CLOTHES ON. This is what Miss Jessie Stepher- son of .30- Hartington Road, Aberdeea, says when writing to the Proprietors of St. Jacobs Oil, tho remedy which cured her: “I was very bad with rheumatism. I could not put my clothes on without crying out. I always had to have assistance to dress myself. I ob- tained a bottle of St. Jacobs Oil, and after its contents were used I was m 4h better. I used the contents of two more bottles, and now I am able to do my ‘work as usual. I would recommend anyone troubled with rheumatism to use St. Jacobs Oil.” Miss Stephenson’s present condi- tion is a very great contrast to what it was before she used St. Jacobs Oil; then she was practically helpless, su*- fered the greatest agony—but now she is free from pain, and able to do her work. Surely such evidence as this is most convincing that St. Jacobs Oil “Conquers Pain.” Painting a Portrait of the Dead. David Col, the famous genre painter, one day was asked by a peasant to paint a portrait of his father. The young artist said he would be delight- ed, and inquired when the father woula be abie to give him a sitting. The peasant replied, “Oh, he is dead!” “How would you have me paint his portrait?” replied th eartist. “Look here,” said the peasant, “this picture on the easel—whom does it represent?” “St. Anthony.” “You are sure it is St. Anthony?” “Yea.” “Did he come here to sit?” “Of course not.” “Of course not.” “Then, you see, you are quite able to make a dead man’s portrait.” “Col yielded, and after making in- quiries concerning the old man, set about painting the portrait. The peas- ant, seeing it for the first time, fell on his knees and cried pitterly. “Why do you cry?” asked the paint- er. “Because my father has grown so ugly.”—Brooklyn Eagle. Catarrh Cannot Be Cured with LOCAL APPLICATIONS, as they cannot reach the seat of the disease. 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