Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, September 7, 1907, Page 9

CHAPTER 1X.—(Continued). “Terribly unworthy,” she cried, standing up to her full height, and then in a moment she stooped to him and once more she asked him to go on. He told her of certain meetings, saying that there could have been of course no harm in them, skilfully hinting at this or that, and then testi- fying to his utter disbelief in the sus- picions that he himself had provoked. She listened to him, growing whiter and whiter. At last his hesitating speech died away into silence, and she stood looking at him. “It might be,” she whispered, half to herself, “it might be, but I do not think it could be. No -man could be so unutterably cruel—so unutterably base. I have made you tell me this, William, and I know that you yourself do not believe it. He could not be so wicked as to sacrifice everything for one of those people.” And Sir William rose. “No,” he said, “he couldn’t. I feel it, though I don’t know him. Marjorie, no living man could leave you for one of the vulgar sirens of the half world.” She looked at him for a moment as he put the thing in plain language, and then Durst into a passion of weep- ing. “I can’t bear any more, William,” she said, between her sobs. “Go now, but find him. Oh, find him!” CHAPTER X. 3 A Man-About-Town Pays a Debt. The people in the luxurious smok- Ing room of the great Palace hotel saw a pale, ascetic-looking, and very distinguished man come into the com- fortable place and sit down upon a lounge. “Do you know who , that is?” one man whispered to another, flicking the ash off a cigar. “No; who is he?” his companion answered. “That's Sir William Gouldes- orough.” “Oh, the great scientific Johnny, you mean.” “Yes; they say that he is going to turn the world topsy-turvy before he’s done.” “The world’s good enough for me,” was the reply, “and if ’'d my way these people who invent things should all be taken out and shot. I’m tired of inventions—they make life move too quickly. The good old times were best, when it took eight hours to get from Brighton to London, and one could not have telegrams from one’s | office to worry one.” “Perhaps you're right,” said the first man. “But, still, people look at things differently nowadays. At any rate, Gouldesbrough is said to be one of the leading men in England to- day.” “He doesn’t seem happy over it,” replied his companion. “He looks like a death’s-head.” “Well, you know, he’s mixed up in the ‘Rathbone Mystery’ in a sort of way.” “Oh, yes, of course; he was engaged to the girl who chucked him over for the Johnny who has disappeared, wasn’t he ” “That’s it. Just watch him. Poor wretch, doesn’t he look pipped?” “Upon my word, the perspiration’s standing out on his forehead in beads. He seems as if——” “As if he had been overworking and overeating. He wants a Turkish bath, T expect. Now, then, Jones, what do you really think about the fall in South Africans? Will they recover in the next two months? That’s what I want to know; that’s what I want to be certain of. . . .” Sir William had just left the up- stairs apartments of the Pooles. He had rung for the lift and entered with- out a word to the attendant, who had glanced fearfully at the tall, pale man with the flashing eyes and the wet face. Once or twice the lift-man no- ticed that the visitor raised his hand to his neck above the collar and seemed to press upon it, and it may have been fancy on the lift-man’s part —though he was not an imaginative yperson—but he seemed to hear a sound like a drum beating under a blanket, and he wondered if the gen- tleman was troubled with heart dis- ease. Gonldesbrough pressed the little electric bell upon the oak table in front of him, and in a moment a wait- er appeared. “Bring me a large brandy and soda,” he said, in a quiet voice. The waiter bowed and _ hurried away. The waiter did not know, being a foreigner and unacquainted with the tittle-tattle of the day, that Sir Will- fam Gouldesbrough, the famous scient- ist, was generally known to be a prac- tical teetotaler and one who abhorred the general use of alcoholic bever- ages. When the brandy came, amber in the electric lights of the smoking CATS | 9 live or Dead? The Strange Disappearance of Gerald Rathbone. By GUY THORNE. room, and with a piece of ice floating in the liquid, Sir William took a small white tabloid from a bottle in his pocket and dropped it into the glass. It fizzed, spluttered, and disappeared. Then he raised the tumbler to his lips, and as he did so the floating ice tinkled against the sides of the glass like a tiny alarm. “Nerves gone,” the- stockbroking gentleman close by said to his friend, with a wink. In five minutes or so, after he had lit a cigarette, Gouldesbrough rose and left the smoking room. He put on his coat in the hall and went out of the front door. It was not yet late, and the huge crescent of electric lights, which seemed to stretch away beyond Hove to Worthing, gleamed like a gigantic coronet. It was a clear night. The air was searching and keen, and it seemed to steady the scientist as he walked down the steps and came out from under the hotel portico on to the pave- ment. A huge round moon hung over the sea, which was moaning quietly. The lights in front of the Alhambra music hall gleamed brightly, and on the promenade by the side of the shore innumerable couples paced and re- paced amid a subdued hum of talk and laughter. The pier stretched away into the water like a jewelled snake. It was Brighton at 10 o’clock, bright, gay, and animated. Sir William was staying at the Brighton’ Royal, the other great hotel which towers up upon the front some quarter of a mile away from the Pal- ace, where Marjorie and Lady Poole were. He strode through the crowds, see- ing nothing of them, hearing nothing but the beat of his own heart. Even for a man so strong as he, the last hour had been terrible. Never be- fore in all his life—at the moment of realization when some great scientific theory had materialized into.stupend- ous fact—when first Marjorie had promised to marry him—at any great crisis of his life—had he undergone so furious a strain as this of the last hour. He came out of the Palace hotel knowing that he had carried out his intentions with the most consummate success. He came out of it realizing that not half a dozen men in England could have done what he had done, and as the keen air smote upon his face like a blow from the flat of a sword he realized also that not six men in England, walking the pleasant, happy streets of any town, were so un- utterably stained and immeasurably perjured as he. As he passed through the revolving glass doors of his own hotel and the hall porters touched their caps, he ex- erted all the powers of his will. He would no longer remember “or realize what he had done and what it meant to him. He would only rejoice" in his achievement, and he banished the fear that comes even to the most evil when they know they have com- mitted an utterly unpardonable sin. He did not use the lift to go to his sitting room on the second floor; he ran lightly up the stairs, wanting the exercise as .a means of banishing thought. He entered his own room, switched on the electric light, took off his coat, and stood in front of the fire, stretching his arms in pure physical weariness. Yes, that was over! Another step was taken. Once more he had pro- gressed a step toward his desire, in spite of the most adverse happenings and the most forbidding aspects of fate. The unaccustomed brandy at the Palace hotel and the bromide solution he had.dropped into it had calmed his nerves, and suddenly he laughed aloud in the rich, silent room, a laugh of pure triumph and excitement. Even as the echoes of his voice died away his eyes fell upon the table, and he saw that there was a letter lying there, addressed to him. The address was written in a well-known hand- writing. He took it up, tore open the envelope, and read the communica- tion. It was this: “I have been down here for several days, trying to escape from London and the thoughts which London gives me. But it has been quite useless. I saw to-day, quite by chance, in the hotel register, that you had arrived here. I did not think that we were ever likely to meet again except in the most casual way. I hope not. Since I have been here the torture of my life has increased a thousand-fold, and I have come to the conclusion that my life must stop. I am not fit to live. I do not blame you too much, because if I hadn’t been a scoundrel and a wastrel all my life I should never have put myself in your hands. As far as your lights go, you have act- ed well to me. You have paid me generously for the years of dirty work I have done at your bidding. For what I have done lately you have made me financially free, and I shall die owing no man a penny, and with no man, save you only, knowing that I die | my people-had for me. without ope, lost, degraded, and despairing. Don’t think I blame you, William Gouldesbrough, “because I don’t. When I was at Eton I was al- ways a pleasure-loving little scug. I was the same at Oxford; I have been the same in all my life in town. I have never been any good to myself, and I have disappointed all the hopes It’s all been my own fault. Then I became en- tangled with you, and I was too weak to resist the money you’ were prepared to pay me for the things I have done for you. “But it’s all over now. I have gone too far. I have helped you, and am equally guilty with you, to commit a frightful crime. Lax as I have always been, I can no longer feel I have any proper place among men of my own sort. All I can say is that I am glad I shall die without anybody knowing what I really am. “T write this note after dinner and, finding the number of your room from the hotel clerk, I leave it here for you to see. I am going to make an end of it all in an hour or two, when I have written a few notes to acquaintances and so on. I can’t go on living, Gouldesbrough, because night and day, day and night, I am haunted by the thought of that poor young man you have got in your foul house in Regent’s Park. What you are doing to him I don’t know. The end of your revenge I can only guess at. But it is all so horrible that I am glad to be done with life. I wish you good-bye, and I wish to God, if there is really a God, that I had never crossed your path and never been your miserable tool. —Eustace Charliewood.” As Sir William Gouldesbrough read this letter his whole tall figure became rigid. He seemed to stiffen as a corpse stiffens. 4 Then—quite suddenly—he turned round and pughed the letter into the depths of the glowing fire, pressing it down with the poker until every ves- tige of it was consumed. He strode to the door of the room, opened it, came out into the wide-car- peted corridor, and hurried to the lift. He pressed the button and heard the bell ring far down below. In a moment or two there came the clash of the shutting doors, the “chunk” of the hydraulic mechanism, and he saw the shadow of the lift-roof rising up toward him. The attendant opened the door. “Will you take me up to the fourth floor, please,” he said; ‘‘to Mr. Eustace Charliewood’s room?” “Mr. Charliewood, sir?” the man re- plied. “Oh, yes, I remember; number 408. Tall, clean-shaven gentleman.” “That’s him,” Sir William said. “I have only just learned that he has been staying in the hotel. He is an old friend, and I had no idea he was here.” The iron doors clashed, the lift shot upward, and the attendant and Sir William arrived at the fourth floor. “Down the corridor, sir, and the first turning on the right,” the lift-man said. “But perhaps I’d better show you.” He ran the ironwork gates over their rollers and hurried down the corridor with Sir William. They turned the corner and the man pointed to a door some fifteen yards away. “That's it, sir,” he said. “That’s Mr. Charliewood’s room.” Even as he spoke there was a sud- den loud explosion which seemed to come from the room to which he had pointed—a horrid crash in the warm, richly-lit silence of the hotel. The man turned to Sir William with a white face. “Come on,” he said, forgetting his politeness. “Something has happened. Come, quick!” When they burst into the room they found the man-about-town lying upon the hearthrug with a blue circle edged with crimson in the center of his fore- head. The hands were still moving feebly, but what had been Eustace Charliewood was no longer there. (To Be Continued.) GYROSCOPE AS COMPASS. Its Use in Steering Steel Vessels and Warships. The mariner’s compass occasionally fails of its purpose in these days of iron ships and cargoes of a magnetic nature. This especially is the case in warships, where the huge masses of iron and steel in guns and gun terrets, etc., are liable to affect the reading of the compass. It is the usual practice to make all possible corrections, but gun turrets have to be moved around, and the cor- rections cannot always be trusted. Again, the shock due to the firing of big guns is bad for the compass. Dr. H. Anschutz-Kampfe has invented a new form of steering standard, de- pendent for its operation upon the principle of the gyroscope. This apparatus has been subjected to exhaustive tests on a battleship, where amid the firing of great guns, the movement of the turrets and such other disturbing influences as would effectually have disposed of the ordi- nary compass it behaved with remark- able precision and came out of the trials quite uninjured. The apparatus consists essentially of an electrically operated gyroscope carrying an indica ting needle and pivoted within an arc similar to that of the ordinary com- pass. The instrument does not necessarily point north and south, but it tends continually to point to any direction in which it is set, and thus to indicate any change of direction ef the ship. It is not proposed to displace the marin- er’s compass by means of this instru- ment, for its readings would tend to become inaccurate after long periods of use without resetting by some standard. It will serve as a_ useful supplement to the compass. It never does a bit of good to crit! cise a fool. : In the construction of a frost proof root cellar it is necessary to dig deep- ly into the ground. If 1,000 bushel ca- pacity is required make the hole 18 feet by 20 feet, five and one-half feet deep. On the floor of the cellar hole build a solid concrete wall. First erect a box wall about one foot high and 16 feet by 18 feet outside measure. This will allow a space of one foot between the box wall and the cellar wall as shown herein. This will make a concrete wall one foot in thickness. race the box wall firmly by means of two or three two-inch by three-inch studding. Fill in the first course of concrete until it is about flush with the top of the box, leaving the surface rough to form a good bond with the next course added. When the first course has had sufficient time to hard- en the box wall can be raised about a foot and the Second course of con- crete applied. Make the wall six feet four inches high so as to allow four inches for a concrete floor and six feet as the dis- tance from the surface of the floor to the bottom of the plate. As the con- crete wall is to project about a foot above the ground it is necessary to build two sides to box wall forming the mold for the concrete. This out- side course of boards will have to be made 18 feet by 20 feet inside meas- ure, or the size of the cellar hole so as to continue the wall upright. The wall should be continued above the ground to prevent the access of water. Good concrete for a wall can be made by mixing five parts of gravel, three parts of sharp sand and one End View. part of good Portland cement. These constituents are well mixed by shovel- ing over five times or until they show a thorough intermingling after which sufficient water must be added to form a thin mortar. When well mixed shovel the whole into the 12-inch space or boxing. Make the floor of concrete four inches thick and in blocks about three feet square. SOME POINTS ON DRAINAGE WORK When planning to lay tile be sure to have experienced men at the head of the work, as it needs more or less skill and experience to be accom- plished right. First, be sure that your farm can be drained by having it surveyed. Then the grades must be taken into consideration. The farm- er must think carefully for himself, for upon this will depend largely the cost of the work. Have the mains laid as level as possible where the fall is small. An eight-inch tile is generally considered large enough to carry the water of 160 acres water-shed. A four inch tile should not be used Protection of Outlets. for greater distance than 40 rods, and other size in proportion. That is, considering ordinary ground. The cost per acre does not average above eight dollars for very satisfac- tory results. In most cases a good ditch is the most satisfactory place to drain into. To prevent dirt from washing away from the tile at the outlet when the Grading with Line and Gauge. tile has been laid in an open ditch build a stone wall across the ditch at the outlet. Thus, by damming the water that flows in the ditch over the tile, the sediment which is carried with the water is given a chance to settle and fill up the ditch in time As a general rule, the branches or feeders should not average below or over three feet in depth wherever pos- sible. Mains should generally be covered by three feet of dirt. Use two inch by eight inch mate- rial in the construction of the sill. Make a two-inch by eight inch notch or recess at each end of the 18 foot joints which will allow them to rest on both the sill and the wall. Place the joists four feet apart. Use 12 feet by two feet six inches, scant- lings for rafters, placing them two feet apart. This will give the roof about one-third pitch. Nail the ceiling on top of the joists before putting on the roof, using preferably tongued and grooved inch material. For the roof use one inch roofing board placed close together. Cover this with two thicknesses of roofing paper. Make the entrance in the mid- The Ground Plan. dle of ene side through a gable door about four and one-half feet by six and one-half feet. Have the gable six feet wide and six and one-half feet eaves. Provide a double inside door hinged parallel with the roof where the latter joins the gable. During se- vere weather the space between the doors can be partially filled with chaff or straw. Put in two ventilating shafts running from above the floor to a point above the peak of the roof. Have the lower 12 inches of these ven- tilation tubes perforated with at least a dozen holes. Place six inches or more of thor- oughly dry chaff on top of the ceiling, as this makes an excellent non-con- ductor of heat. Cover the ground for about four feet around the building with one foot to one and one-half feet of y Don’t You Build a Good Root Cellar?) >= vour sack acner Profit by the Experience of One Who Has Found Relief. James R. Keeler, retired farmer, of Fenner St., Cazenovia, N. Y., says: “About fifteen years ago I suffered with my back and kidneys.* I doctored and used many reme- dies without getting relief. Beginning with Doan’s Kidney Pills, ws, I found relief from ®- the first box, and two boxes restored me to r good, sound condi- tion. My wife and many of my friends have used Doan’s Kidney Pills with good results and I can earnestly rec- ommend them.” ° Sold by all dealers. 50 cents a box. Foster-Milburn Co., Buffalo, N. Y. Too Many Wolves in lowa. Wolves have become so numerous iin the vicinity of Anita. Iowa, and ‘their depredations so frequent that the sheep owners have united, agree- ing to pay a bounty for all wolves killed in the four northeast townships of Cass county, equal to that now paid by the county, thus making the bounty $10 and $4, respectively, for old and young wolves. CHILDREN TORTURED. Girl Had Running Sores from Eczema —Boy Tortured ‘by Poison Oak— Both Cured by Cuticura. “Last year, after having my little girl treated by a very prominent phy- sician for an obstinate case of eczema, I resorted to the Cuticura Remedies, and was so well pleased with the al- most instantaneous relief afforded that we discarded the physician’s prescrip- tion and relied entirely on the Cuti- cura Soap, Cuticura Ointment, and Cu- ticura Pills. When we commenced with the Cuticura Remedies her feet and limbs were covered with running sores. In about six weeks we had her completely well, and there has been no recurrence of the trouble. “In July of this year a little boy in our family poisoned his hands and arms with poison oak, and in twenty- four hours his hands and arms were a ‘mass of torturing sores. We used only the Cuticura Remedies, and in about three weeks his hands and arms healed up. Mrs. Lizzie Vincent Thomas, Fairmont, Walden’s Ridge Tenn., Oct, 13, 1905.” horse manure and cover the whole) building with two or three loads of straw for the winter. In the selection of tile, be sure to get some that are free from lime or chalk stones, for the reason that when these become wet the lime will dis- solve and thus burst or chip the tile. A medium burnt tile is generally Stones Placed Around Tile to Increase the Drainage Capacity. considered best, as they are more du- | rable than either soft or hard burnt tile and stand the handling, such as hauling and laying, better than the hard or soft tile. 4 Where big sloughs are drained into which the water is shed very rapid- ly, a good plan is to cover the tile in several places with broken tile or very | coarse gravel, so that the water may enter them more rapidly and thus sometimes save crops that would oth- erwise be ruined after heavy rains. Drying Off Ewes. One of the worst troubles which sheepmen have to fight against is gar- get or inflammation of the udder in ewes when the lambs are weaned. There is going to be more trouble this year than usual, because pastures are still fresh and green and ewes are in j Right Foot on the Rail. In every police station in the city a magistrate sits at 7 o’clock each morning to hear the petty cases of the day before. Nine out of ten of the ar- rests are drunks. Observant persons who attend these hearings notice a pe- culiar gesture made by almost every prisoner as he is brought before the bar of justice. | As each one places his hands on the rail before him and faces the Magis- trate his right foot involuntarily is lifted a trifle off the ground as if to place it on a foot rail that graces al- most every barroom in the city. It has also been noticed that the policemen who are brought up to testify against the prisoners do the same thing— Philadelphia Record. Sang at Her Work. A well known clergyman relates that while on a recent visit to Shrop- shire he was in a small town where owing to the scarcity of good servants | most of the ladies preferred to do their own work. He was awakened quite early by the tones of a clear soprano voice singing “Nearer, My God, to Thee.” As the ,clergyman lay in bed he meditated ; upon the piety his hostess must pos- sess which enabled her to go about | her tasks early in the morning sing- |ing such a noble hymn. At breakfast he spoke to her about it and told her how pleased he was. “Oh law!” she replied, “that’s the hymn I boil eggs by;three verses for soft and five for hard.” FEET OUT. 5) She Had Curious Habits. ‘When a person has to keep the feet out from under cover during the cold- est nights in winter because of the heat and prickly sensation, it is time that coffee, which causes the trouble, heavy flow of milk. The trouble is caused by inflammation of the mam- mary glands, and if the udder is not partially relieved it is liable to ruin the usefulness of the ewe. The thing to do is to prevent the trouble, if pos- sible. Take the ewes off the fresh pastures, or at least put the ewes on less luxurious fields some time before weaning the lambs begins. If this does not reduce the milk flow fast enough, put the ewes in sheds or yards and feed them dry hay. But the shepherd will have to watch closely until all danger is passed. It will probably be necessary to catch some of the ewes daily and milk out part of the milk. Practical Education—“The way tc educate a boy is to set him to work; the way to get him to work is to in. terest him; the way to interest him is to relate his. task to some form of reality.”—President Anderson. Good Air and Feed.—The health of the steer requires both good air and good feed, The Stock Barn.—Stock should be light, dry and well ventilat- be left off. There is no end to the nervous con- ditions that coffee will produce. ¢ It shows in one way in one person and in another way in another. In this case the lady lived in S. Dak. She says: “I have had to lie awake half the night with my feet and limbs out of the bed on the coldest nights, and felt afraid to sleep for fear of catching cold. I had been troubled for years with twitching and jerking of the lower limbs, and for most of the time Ihave been unable to go to church or to lectures because of that awful feeling that I must keep on the move. “When it was brought to my atten- tion that coffee caused so many ner- vous diseases, I concluded to drop coffee and take Postum Food Coffee to see if my trouble was caused by coffee drinking. “I only drank one cup of coffee for breakfast but that was enough to do the business for me. When I auit it my troubles disappeared in an almost miraculous way. Now I have no more of the jerking and twitching and can sleep with ary amount of bedding over me and sleep all night, in sound, peace- ful rest. “Postum Food Coffee is absolutery» worth its weight in gold to me.” “There’s a Reason.” Read the little health classic, “The Road to Well- Wille,” in pkgs. - i £2: