Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, February 29, 1908, Page 10

| | Chance for Conversion. In the ante-bellum days, when An- son P. Morrill of Maine was making his first run for congress, a hench- man of his opponent met an old ‘min- ister of that section slowly jogging along the road on his old horse and hailed him with “Who are you going to vote for?” “Well,” said the old man, “I thought I should give Anson a vote. Anson has good timber in him, I believe.” “Oh, but I don’t see how you can vote for him! Don’t you know he is a Universalist? He doesn’t believe in a hell.” With a quiet twinkle in his eye the old man said: “We'll send him to Washington. When he has served his two years if he doesn’t believe in a hell I shall be very much surprised.” ~ A Growing List. “The president gave a reception the other evening.” “Well?” “Among those absent were Messrs. Storer, Whitney, Long, Bowen and Brownson.” ' And every man is afraid of some- thing; if it isn’t anything else it’s a woman. The back is the mainspring of woman’s organism. It quickly calls attention to trouble by aching. It tells, with other symptoms, such as nervousness, headache, pains in the loins, weight in the lower part of the body, that a woman’s feminine organism needs immediateattention. In such cases the one sure remedy which speedily removes the cause, and restores the feminine organism to a healthy, normal condition is LYDIA E. PINKHAM’S VEGETABLE COMPOUND Mrs. Will Young, of 6 Columbia Ave., Rockland, Me., says: ‘*T was troubled for along time with dreadful backaches and a pain in my side, and was miserable in every way. I doctored until I was discouraged and thought I would never get well. I read what Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound had done for others and decided to try it; after taking three bottles I can truly say that I never felt 60 well in my life.” Mrs. Augustus Lyon, of East Earl, Pa., writes to Mrs. Pinkham: “Thad very severe backaches, and pressing-down pains. Icould not sleep, and had no appetite. Lydia E. 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HOLMES, St. le Investments. 815 Jackson Street, Paul, Minnesota, —————_— N W N U —No 9— 1908 'save you from marrying a scoundrel. * CHAPTER VIlI—(Continued.) “Here is the card he sent up; his name is Percy Twist.” “Percy Twist? Godfrey has never mentioned‘any one of that name to me; but then—he—he——” “There, there, darling; it just strikes me now that this Twist knows more about the robbery of the ‘Empire’s Dream’ than Godfrey West does.” “But he said that Godfrey and Jasp- er Garlick were——” “Oh, don’t bother about that, dear; just have a sleep and we’ll talk about it in the morning.” “But supposing Godfrey was Jasper Garlick, and—and your father and he met?” “You love this Godfrey West?” “Love him? Yes; just as I heard you tell this man how you loved Jasp- er Garlick years ago, and it seemed to me as if you were describing my love for Godfrey.” “Is there no one in London to whom you could send for advice? Surely you must know of some friend?” “No, there is no-one, unless it is Mr. Dodson, my father’s lawyer.” “The very man, faith; get to bed now, darling, and I’ll send for him in the morning.” “But if—if Godfrey- “Oh! well, if this Godfrey West turns out to be Jasper Garlick, you may rely upon Judith Ballara to do-her best to * * * * As Percy Twist left the Grand hotel, very well satisfied with his evening’s work, a man left the shelter of a neigh- boring doorway and glided after him like a shadow. After spending half an hour in the bar of his hotel, he hailed a hansom and drove to Victoria station with the unknown closely following. Late that evening Mr. Griffin of the Albany, London, received a telegram: “Quarry booked for Liverpool. Am following. —Roop.” CHAPTER IX. In one of the districts of Liverpool which is not too savory, where squal- or runs riot and the sign of the golden balls competes with the four-ale bar of the publican, the row of tenements known as Hooker’s Alley bore the un- enviable reputation of being the most dilapidated and squalid in the neigh- borhood. As Mrs. Crotchett sat on the top step of No. 14, conducting a conversa- tional symposum with a choice circle of acquaintances similarly elevated across the street, her stirring tale of the domestic infelicity of her late hus- band’s second cousin, who recently committed matrimony for the third time, was rudely interrupted by the appearance, of a stranger. The presence of an unfamiliar face in Hooker’s Alley was such an unusu- al event, and such a suspicious cir- cumstance withal, that the ladies paid honor to the occasion by rising in a body, and, while craning their necks in an effort to satisfy a pardonable curiosity, were equally prepared to re- | tire in good order and precision with a slam of the door, in case the strang- er’s visit should prove of a hostile or unpleasant nature. The arrival of the new-comer was watched with breathless interest, and there was something resembling a thrill of excitement and expectation when he arrested his footsteps oppo- site the door of No. 14. Flicking his hat over his left ear, he buried both hands deep in his trousers pockets, and surveyed Mrs. Crotchett with a good-humored leer. “Well, my hadipose aunt, yer shad- der ain’t thin enough ter lose itself yet.” Mrs. Crotchett struggjed for a mo- ment with her rising indignation, and seemed to be searching her vocabulary for a choice selection of powerful words suitable for repartee, when suddenly recognition overtook her. “Why, it’s Nosey Hammond!” “Right ho; it’s Bill Jack, yer dooti- ful nevvy, come ter pay ’is respec’s.” “Well, I never! Come in—come in.” Mrs. Crotchett removed a portion of her ample form from the doorway, and Hammond disappeared from the gaze of the curious; and then the good lady, after flinging over her shoulder the information, “My sister’s boy from London,” followed him in and barred the door. “Well, now, an’ wot’s blown this way, an’ wot’re yer up ter?” “It amooses me, my dear aunt, when I ’ears yer tork like that. I comes ter do yer a good turn, an’ yer arsks me wot I’m up ter.” “A good turn, eh? Well, I wants it badly, goodness knows.” “Then, ’ere’s yer chance. I wants yer ter prepare yer hattic suite fer the reception of a gent as ’as met with a little acksident.” “Now, look ’ere, Nosey Hammond, there ain’t no perlice business ’bout this?” “It doo amoose me, whenever yer sees me yer allus thinks as I’m bein’ chiywied by the cops. No, ther’ aint you The Empire’s Dream Amazing Adventures of a Gang of Thieves Who Stole a World-Famous Dia- mond of Fabulous Wealth. no perlice about this. I’m bringin’ a couple o’ toffs ter-night, an’ yer'll be well paid, so get out yer cut glarss, an’ see as the silver is well polished up, cos ther gents is petickler.” “All very fine, but I’d like that song better if it ’ad a little more toon about it.” “Well, wot price this fer moosic, eh?” Hammond took five sovereigns from his pocket and jingled them on the table. “Lor’, Nosey, that’s a perfec’ horo- torio. An’ wot time’ll yer be comin’?” “Our guests -will arrive when ther good people of this serlubrious alley are ’avin’ a game of shut-eye, an’ in horder not ter disturb their by-by we will approach the castle by ther back avernoo.” “An’ there’ll be no trouble?” “Not a smell on it; an’ there’s more shiners waitin’ fer yer pervided as all goes right, so fill up ther wine celler, get some decent grub in, an’ keep mum ter the naybors.” After inspecting the dilapidated apartment facetiously alluded to by Mr. Hammond as the “attic suite,” that gentleman, with many instruc- tions to his maternal aunt, swaggered up the alley again with an exaggerated air of importance, followed by the ad- miring gaze of the female inhabitants. The back entrance to Hooker’s Alley was reached through a narrow and poorly lighted entry debouching into a quiet street of somewhat respecta- ble appearance. Late that night, long after the neighbors of Mrs. Crotchett had been denied the attractions of the public hostelries and had retired to their more or less comfortable couches, three men alighted from a four-wheeled cab and made their way up the narrow entry, bearing in their midst the inanimate figure of a man. The back door of No. 14 was open in readiness for them, and Mrs. Crotchett herself was waiting to wel- come her guests. Hammond took the insensible man in his arms and car- ried him up to the room prepared for him, a proceeding which filled his aunt with fear and apprehension. “It ain’t murder, Nosey, is it?” “Oh, you amooses me; can’t see a man as ’as been knocked silly by a hacksident ’ithout shouting’ murder. Now jest make yerself scarce in ther lower regions, whilst me an’ my pals torks bizness.” Having disposed of his burden and Mrs. Crotchett at the same time, Hammond returned to the apartment termed by courtesy the “best parlor,” where he rejoined Montagu Winton and Percy Twist. “Well, gents all, friend as comferble as I’ve made our possible, an’ oe a : yer ’umble’ll now perceed ter do like- wise. He’s a sleepin’ like a baby after a dose o’ cinder tea, an’ is good fer a few hours, an’ then we'll send ‘im orf again.” “What are we going to do with him?” asked Twist. “We must keep him here until we can get clear away. The man is dang- erous. How he got on our track I don’t know, but he and Joe Brawn and some boy they have picked up have been dogging us all the way from London, and it has taken all our time to keep clear. I have met the man often in Richmond, and if he sees me my game is up.” “In that case we must keep him here, Winton. But how did you get him by himself?” “I got word that Joe Brawn and the boy left the motor car at Manchester “And ho! it did amoose me; me an’ Winton seed our guest a chivvying our moty-car like a wild Injun. When we turns a corner in a quiet lane down we gets sudden with a long rope. Mr. Winton gets behin’ a tree on one side, an’ me on ther other. Up comes me nabs like a hexpress, an’ up goes our rope. Ketched ‘im right under ther chin, an’ ’e does a back somersault inter the ditch an’ ’is moty turned turtle arf a mile away. Oh, it did amoose me!” “Well,” answered Twist, “I can tell you something which you may not is not safe for us.” “How is that?” “Well, Joe Brawn is here, for one thing. I saw him down on the land- ing-stage to-day, and I know that ey- ery boat is being watched. For anoth- er thing, a man has been dogging my footsteps ever since I left Euston. I did not realize it until I had been some days in Manchester.” “And do you think you have been watched coming here?” “No; I shook him off to-day. I took the ferry across to Birkenhead, the man following. I walked to New Fer- ry, where there was a solitary rowing boat. I gave a man a sovereign to row me across to Garston, and, as the man couldn’t follow, I lost him.” “What about May Brent?” “Oh, she is still in Manchester. Go and bring some whisky up, Ham- mond.” As Hammond departed on his er- rand Twist leaned forward to Winton. “Now that Hammond is away I have something to tell you. Mary Brent is living under the protection of Judith Ballara.” “The dancer?” “Yes; have you ever seen her?” “Not that I know of.” hotel and I made a discovery.” “And that was?” “That Judith Ballara is an assumed name, and the famous dancer is none other than—can you guess?” “Give it up.” “Audrey Brawn of Ballarat.” “The deuce!” “I recognized her from the photo- graph which you have in your posses- sion. Now. the curious part of the thing is. I had a man keeping his eye on Mary Brent, and I know for a fact that she was almost penniless and despairing. By a coincidence, when the Ballara was leaving the theater her brougham knocked Mary Brent down, and the dancer took her to her hotel. Mindful of my promise to as- sist you to marry Miss Brent, I short- ‘ly, afterward obtained an interview with Miss Ballara.” “Well, and what happened?” “Mary Brent was sitting before the fire, half-hidden by a screen. I then taxed Judith Ballara with being Au- drey Brawn, and told her I had seen her photograph in the possession of Jasper Garlick.” “You fool!” “Wait a bit. She raved for a few minutes in an uncomplimentary way about the faithless Jasper, and I told her that he went under another name in England.” “Twist, are you mad?” “I told her that Garlick, having fail- ed in his first attempt to obtain pos- session of the ‘Empire’s Dream,’ had made a second effort with more suc- cess.” “Oh, you colossal idiot!” “Then she asked me what name you went under in England.” “And you told her?” “Yes; I said you went under the name of—Godfrey West.” For some moments Winton looked at his companion in silence. ‘Then he held out his hand. “Thanks. You've got a clever brain, Twist.” “Oh, that’s all right; I’m only earn- ing my share of the marriage dowry. Now, of course, Mary Brent and Audrey Brawn must be parted. I have a plan not only to do that, but tomake your wooing all plain sailing; but no more just now. Here is Hammond back again.” The three talked far into the early hours of the morning, and then Ham- mond, in his characteristic attitude, hung his neck over the back of his chair and fell asleep. Winton and Twist resumed their conversation in an undertone. “To-morrow afternoon will be the best time. The Ballera has a mati- nee, and it is more than possible that Mary Brent will be alone.” The following day Winton sent a telegram to Mary Brent at Manches- ter: “If you love me, come to me at once. I will await you Exchange Sta- tion, Liverpool—Godfrey West.” Nosey Hammond spent the after- noon watching the trains arriving from Manchester, and at last his pa- tience was rewarded as-he saw Mary Brent alight. “Excoose me, miss, but may I arsk if you are Miss Brent?” “Yes, I am. Have you come from Mr. West? Where is he?” “I’m sorry, miss, but Mr. West ’as ’ad a little acksident wiv ‘is moty-car. Carn’t walk, miss; ’urt ‘is leg.” “Where is he? Take me to him.” “T had an interview with her at her “Suttingly, miss; that’s wot I’m ’ere for; this way, miss.” Hammond conducted Miss Brent to a cab and got in beside her, and then, by his directions, they drove by a cir- cuitous route to the back entrance to Hooker’s Alley. “I’m sorry ther naybrood ain’t more haristocratic, miss, but Mr. West be- in’ in a bit o’ trouble, so to speak, finds it rayther convenient.” (To Be Continued.) Force of Habit. A Boston psychologist was recently reminded of the story of the Russian jailer who, changing his occupation, found the chief interest of his leisure moments in catching birds, putting them in cages and selling them to the highest bidder, says the Boston Her- ald. The scientist having to attend a series of lectures in a large public hall struck up acquaintance with the janitor of the building and soon noted in him a suggestive bent of mind. The man seemed fond of counting the peo- ple, and would occasionally report the exact numper present. “We have 115 here to-night,” he would say, or “Just 201 all told;” or, when the hall was crowded, “I make it 370.” There was a problem in all this, but it took some time for the psychologist to solve it. A bit of friendly, familiar talk, con- : i tinually renewed, did the business, for it brought out the fact that the janitor had spent many of his previ- ous years as warden in an Easterni prison. With rifle on shoulder, from some enclosing wall, the man _ hai counted the convicts until the habit became ingrained. In the recesses of his brain the lecture hall took the shape of a jail yard and the audience were his prisoners. He counted be- cause he wished to know if all were | there. The Door of Doom, Many old houses in Holland have a special door which is never opened save on special occasions—when there is a marriage or a death in the fam- ily. 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