Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, November 3, 1906, Page 6

SPEEDY CURE OF MISS GOODE She Is Made Well by Lydia BE. Pink- ham’s Vegetable Compound, and Writes Gratefully to Mrs. Pinkham. For the wonderful help that she has found Miss Cora Goode, 255 E, Chicago Avenue, Chicago, Il1., believes it her duty to write the following letter for publication, in order that other women afflicted in the same way may be ‘benefited as she was. Miss Goode is president of the Bryn Mawr Lawn ‘Tennis Club of Chicago. She writes; Dear Mrs. Pinkham:— “I tried many different remedies to build up my system, which had become run ‘down from loss of proper rest and unreason- able hours, but nothing seemed to help me. Mother is a great advocate of Lydia E. ke ham’s Vegetable Compound for female trou- bles, having used it herself some years with great success. So I began take iy and in less than a month I was able to be out of bed and out of doors, and in three months I was entirely well. Really I have never felt so strong and well as I have since, ” No other medicine has such a record of cures of female troublesas has Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compoun Women who are troubled with pain- ful or irregular periods, backache, bloating (or flatulence), displacement of organs, inflammation or ulceration, can be restored to perfect health and strength by taking Lydia B, 'Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound. Mrs. Pinkham invites all sick women to write her for advice. She has guided thousands to health. Her experience is very great, and she gives the benefit ‘of it to all who stand in need of wise counsel. She isthe daughter-in-law of i Pinkham and for twenty-five years hus been advising sick women tree ofcharge. Address, Lynn, Mass, Natural Deduction. The Friend—Is your new book being well received? » Author—I guess so. The pub- went into the hands of a re- eiver last week. SAVED BABY LYON’S LIFE. Awful Sight From That Dreadful Com plaint, Infantile Eczema — Mother Praises Cuticura Remedies. Our baby had that dreadful com- plaint, Infantile Eczema, which afflict- ed him for several moni's; commence: ing at the top of his head and at last covering his whole body. His suffer- ings were untold and constant misery, in fact there was nothing we would not have done to have given him re lief. We finally procured a whole set of Cuticura Romedies, and in about three or four days he began to show a brighter spirit and really laughed, for the first time in a year. In about ninety days he was fully recovered. Pp e for the Cuticura Remedies. has always been our greatest pleasure, and there is nothing too good that we could s in their favor, for they cer- tainly saved our baby’s life, for he the most awful sight that I ever beheld prior to the treatment of the was Cuticura Remedies. Mrs. Maebelle Lyon, 1826 Appleton Ave., Parsons, Kan., July 18, 1905.” Perfectly Independent. 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Urquhart Land Co,, 660 Bndicott, St. Paul, There ure some men, who if they were drowning, would wait-for a quar- ter-sawed board. Money makes the mare go, but it can’t put a stubborn mule in motion. THE SECOND | DANDY CHATER x Ss eee Be es cy ee ee ee CHAPTER I!.—(Continued.) He picked up a stained newspaper and tried to read; but before his eyes, again and again, came the image of the dead fece which had stared into his that night. So much had happened —so much that was wild and strange —within the past few hours, that it all seemed like some horrible unruly nightmare. Yet he knew that it was something more, than that; for his fingers touched the papers.in his pock- et and the watch that had belonged to the Jead men. For a moment, as his hands closed aipon them, a sweat of fear broke cut upon his forehead, ard he glanced about him uneasily. “It's a desperate game,” he mut- tered. “If the body’ should be found and recognized, or if the likeness be not so complete as I have thought, what shall I say, what shall I do? Why, I don't even know what manner of man this Dandy Chater was, or what were his habits, his companions, the places to which he resorted; I krcw absolutely nothing. Every step of the way I must grope in the dark. And I may betray myself at any mo- ment!” si He dropped the paper from before his eyes and found found, to his as- tonishment, and somewhat to his dis- comfeiture, that he was being steadily regarded by a man who sat at the oth- er side of the table. More than that, the man, having his back toward the little inner room where the meal was being preparel, nodded his head quickly, in a familiar fashion, and bent forward and whispered the fol- lowing astounding remark: “Wot—give the count the slip, ’ave yer?” Philip Crowdy’s position at that mo- ment was not an enviable one. He was utterly alone in the sense that, whatever battles lay before him, he had to fight them as best he could, and dared not trust a living soul; worse than all, he must fight them in the dark, not knowing, when he took one step, where the next might lead. Moreover, the man before him was one of the most repulsive looking ruf- fians it is possible to imagine: a man who, from his appearance, might have been one of those unfortunates de- scribed by the. proprietor of the place as never sleeping in a bed. His clothes, which had once been black, were of a greenish hue from long exposeure to the weather, and vere fastened together, in the more necessary places, by pins and scraps of string. His face, long, and thin, and cadaverous, had upon it, besides its native dirt, a week’s growth of beard and mustache; his hair, thin almost to baldness on top, hung long about his ears, and was rolled inwards at the ends, in the fashion of some thirty years ago. Crowdy, after eyeing this man for a few moments in silence, grunted something inaudible, and took up the paper again. R “No offense, Dandy,” said the man, somewhat more humbly, and the same hoarse whisper as before. “Seed yer outside, an’ came in arter yer. Agin’ the rules,, an’ well I knows it; but there ain’t no one ’ere to twig us, is there?” “Well, what of that?’ asked the cther, taking his cue from the fellow’s humility. “Can’t you let a man alone, even at this hour? what do you want now?” “Don’t be so ’asty, Dandy,” replied the man, in an injured tone. “It ain’t for me to say anyfink agin the’count, *cose 'e’s your pal. But you’re young at this game, Dandy, and the count is a bit too fly. If you wants a fren’, as ‘ll be a fren’, don’t forgit the Shady ‘Un, will yer?” This last very insinu- atingly. “Oh, so you’re the Shady ’Un, are you?” thought Crowdy. Aloud, he said, “Thanks, I can take care of my- self.” “Ah, you wos always ‘igh an mighty,, you wos,” replied the other, with a propitiatory smile. “It ain’t fer me ter say anyfink agin the count— on’y ’e’s a deep ’un, that’s all. An’ ’e’s got some new move (on; ’e was a stickin’ like wax to you to-night—yer know ’e was.” Philip Crowdy caught his breath. Here, surely was some faint clue at iast; for it was possible that the man who had been “sticking like was” to the unfortunate Dandy Chater that night might have stuck to him to the very last, down by the river’s muddy brink. Crowdy was breathlessly silent, waiting for more; he left his meal un- touched, where it had been placed, and kept his eyes narrowly on his neighbor. But that neighbor had evidently made up his mind to say nothing more; after a pause he shuffled to his feet and started to leave the place. As he neared the door, however, he came back again, and bent his face down to Crowdy’s ear. “I say—yer won't ftergit Toosday, fill yer?” “What about it?” asked the other, as carelessly as he could. 1 “W’y, at ihe ‘Watermen’—o’ course,” whispered the Shady ’Un, in a sur- By Tom Gallon. prised tone. “Ten-thirty sharp. I suppose you'll come wiv the count— eh?” “I suppose so,” replied Crowdy. “Good night.” Left alone, he thrust his plate aside and sat staring at the table, turning the business over in his mind. In the first place, he had resolved to find Bandy Chater’s murderer; on the oth- er hand, if, as was possible, the man spoken of as the count had anything te do with that murder, it would ob- viously be impossible for Philip Crewdy to appear before him; the fraud would be exposed at once. Again, it was evident that the late Dandy Chater nad kept remarkably queer company; and that, moreover, Philip Crowdy—as the new Dandy Chater—was pledged to mect some members of that queer company, on the following Tuesday, at half-past ten, at the house known as the Three Watermen. “So far, so good—or, rather, bad,” he said slowly to himself. “I’m Dandy Chater—for the present, at least; if the man who struck the blow happens to meet me, he'll either die of fright or denounce me. For the present, I’ve got to be very careful; I’ve very fortunately discovered one or two ‘things which may be useful. But how in the world am I to know what Dandy Chater was doing, or meant to do—or what people he knew, or didn’t know? At all events, I must put a bold face on the matter, and trust to luck.” It was not until he was undressing for the night in the shabby little room which had been assigned to him over the coffee house that he re- membered the interview he had had with the girl on the road outside Bam- berton. He stopped, and stood stock- still, with a puzzled face. “The girl, Patience Miller? I'd clean forgotten her. Why, Dandy Chater was to have taken her to London, and they were to be married to-morrow. Now, Dandy Chater—or the real one, at least—is at the bottom of the river. But where on earth is the girl?” He slept late the next morning, and had time, while he dressed, to con- sider what his future course of action should be. In part, he had made up his mind the previous night; had studied carefully the dress and ap- pearance of the dead man, with the object—indefinite then, but elear and distinct now—of taking his place. He felt now that the first move in the game must be for him to get down to Bamberton. “No one in England knows of my existence; only one man, so far as I am aware, knows, beside myself, of tthe death and disappearance of Dandy Chater. There is no one to suspect; so far as Iam concerned there is everything to gain and but little to lose, Therefore, Mr. Dandy Chater the Second, you will go down into Essex.” Watchful and alert—ready te take up any faint cue which might be of- fered him—suspicious of dangcr on every hand, Philip Crowdy got back to London, made some = slight pur- chases, with a view to changing his dress, and started for Chater Hall. Arriving at the little railway station, he returned, with grim satisfaction, the salutes and nods of recognition which cre and another bestowed upon him, got into the fly—the only one the station boasted—and was Criven rap- idly to his future home. “I need all the luck I’ve ever pos- sessed, and all the impudence with which Nature has endowed me,” he thougat. “Why, 1 don’t even know my way about my own house—shan’t know where to turn when I get in- side, or what the servant’s names are. And I wish I knew what sort of man Dandy Chater was—whether he bullied, or was soft-spoken—swore, or quoted Scripture.” The fly drew up with a jerk at the hall door, which was already open. A young servant—a pleasant looking lad of about twenty years of age in a sober brown livery—ran out quickly, with a forefinger raised to his fore head, and opened the door of the fly. “Morning, sir,” said this individual, in'a voice as pleasant as his face. “Hoped you'd telegraph, sir, and let me drive over for you.” Crowdy alighted slowly, looking keenly about him. “I hadn’t time,” he said, gruffly—being convinced, for some strange reason, that the late Dandy Chater had been of a some- what overbearing disposition. He walked slowly up the steps, and into Chater Hall. There, his troubles began; for, in the first place, he did not even know. his room—he did not, as he had al- ready suggested, even know which way to turn. In desperation, he laid his hand on the knob of the first door he saw, and walked boldly in. He found himself in what was evi- dently the dining room. He turned, as he was passing through the doorway, and beckoned to the young servant, who had taken his hat and coat, and who was lingering in the hall. “Here—I want you,” he said. His quick eye, roving round the room, had seen a pipe on thé mantelshelf Sheraton sideboard. “Get me @ whisky and soda, and bring me those cigars—the last lot I had.” The servant placed the spirit stand at his master’s elbow and hurried away to complete the order. Philip Crowdy leaned back in his chair and laughed softly when he thought of how well he was carrying the thing off. I must be as natural as possible,” he muttered. “That was a good move about the cigars.” The servant re-entered the room, bringing the cigars, and a letter which he handed to Crowdy. “Brought this morning, sir, quite early,” he said. Philip Crowdy, after a moment’s hesitation, broke the seal, and read the following astounding note: Dearest Dandy: You shall have your answer sooner even than I prom- ised. I do trust you; I do believe in your capacity for the better things of which you have spoken. I will marry you when you like, and with a glad heart. Come and see me to-morrow night, and we can talk about it com- fortably. Yours loyally, —Margaret Barnshaw. Philip Crowdy dismissed the servant with a wave of the hand and sank into a chair helplessly. . CHAPTER Ill. Betty Siggs Becomes Alarmed. Philip Crowdy felt, however, that there was no time to waste in vain speculation; he had plunged into a mad business, and it must be carried through at all hazards. Moreover, the more he came to think of it, the more the strong nature of the man rose up to assist him to confront his difficul- ties. Essentially cool and calculating, he saw his desperate position, and saw, too, how the house of cards he was erecting might be fluttered down at a breath, At the same time, with the daring of a desperate man, he took the thing quietly, and determined to advance step by step. Everything seemed to be in his fa- vor. In the first place, there was evi- dently no suspicion in the mind of any one he had met yét, that he was not the man he had claimed to be— Dandy Chater; in the second place, the young servant who had first ad- mitted him gave him the very clue he needed, and at the very outset. Com- ing into the room immediately after Crowdy had finished reading the let- ter, this man asked: “Excuse me, sir, but Mrs. Dolman would like to know whether Mr. Ogle- don is coming down to-day? ” Philip Crowdy gathered his wander- ing wits, and faced the question. “Mrs. Dolman—that’ll be the house- keeper,” he thought rapidly. “But who the dickens is Mr. Ogledon?” After a moment's pause he looked up, and said, aloud: “Can’t say, I’m sure. You’d better send Mrs. Dolman to me.” The young man went away, and the housekeeper presently came bustling in. She was a trim, neat, precise old lady, with a certain dignity of man- ner belonging to her station. She in- clined her head and folded her hands, and hoped that: “Master Dandy” was well. “Qld servant—been in the family all her life,” thought Crowdy. Aloud he said: “I really can’t say, Mrs. Dol- man, whether Mr. Ogledon will be here to-day or not. By the way, Mrs. Dolman”—this as a_ brilliant idea struck him—“I think I shall change my room—my bed room, I mean.” The good woman raised her hands in astonishment. “Change your room, Master Dandy? Why, I never heard the like! What's the matter with the room, sir?” “Oh, nothing’s the matter with it, only I want a change; one gets tired of anything. Just come upstairs with me, and I’ll show you what I mean.” (To Be Continued.) Drawing the line. Tailor—Excuse me, sir, but could you pay something on your account to-day? Customer (angrily)—Say, I wish you would quit dunning me so persis- tently. Do you object to giving me a little time? Tailor—Oh, no; but I object to giv- ing you that suit. The Worst. “Doctor, you may as well be frank with me. Tell me the worst,” said the patient nervously. “I can do notbing for you,” said the doctor calmly but firmly. “Nothing?” “Absolulely nothing. There’s noth- ing the matter with you.” Greatly relieved the patient went out in the back yard and sawed wood. In Evidence. “Yes, sir,” the barber prattled, as he}’ shaved the patron, “livin’ is mighty high these days. All kinds o’ prices has gone up so it’s hard fur us workin’ men to even git enough to eat.” “Yes?” groaned the victim; “I judge, however, that you find onions cheap enough.” Used to It. The aged millionaire was observed to jump nimbly from in front of the speeding automobile and hurry away. “You're wonderfully agile,” remarked one who had seen him. “Nothing liké practice,” replied the millionaire. “The man in that auto was the tax commissioner.” Once in a great while the voters! NERVOUS COLLAPSE Sinking Spells, Headaches Rheumatism all Yield to Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills. 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