Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, June 23, 1909, Page 10

THIRD OPERATION Revenge BY GUY THORNE The Thrilling Story of a Mother’s Love and a PREVENTED By Lydia E. Pinkham’s Veg- etable Compound Chicago, Ill. — “I want to tell you what Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound did for me. I was so sick that two of the best doctors in Chicago said I would die if I did not have an 2 operation. I had j already had two eit operations, and | they wanted me to go through a third one. I suffered day and night from in. i flammation and a small tumor, “and never thought of seeing a well da; ain. <A frien told me how Lydia te E. Pinkham’s Veg. etable Compound had helped her, and I tried it, and after the third bottle was cured.’’—Mrs. ALVENA SPERLING, 11 Langdon Street, Chicago, Ill. If you are ill do not drag along at home or in your place of employment until an operation is necessary, but build up the feminine system, and re- move the cause of those eee d aches and pains by taking Ly Pinkhain’s table Compound, made from roots and herbs. For thirty years it has been the stan- dard remedy for female ills, and has positively restored the health of thou- sandsof women who have been troubled with displacements, inflammation, ul- ceration, fibroid tumors, irregularities, riodic pains, backache, bearing-down eeling, flatulency, indigestion, dizzi- ness, or nervous prostration. Why don’t you try it? woman.”—Lord Byron. CHAPTER VII.—(Continued.) Remington went up to Grant at once. “No, sir,” he said, in a low voice, throwing his hands out with a ges- ture of pompous but perfectly sincere despair; “no, sir, nothing at all has been discovered. Her grace is pros- trated. The duke of Perth and Sir Anthony Hellier are in the house now, and all the morning the people have been coming and going from Scotland Yard, but they have not found out a thing. In short, sir,-we are in about as bad a state as we could be.” Marriott noticed—and he was quick and keen to notice everything—that the confidential servant spoke to Mi- chael Grant as he might have spoken to his master. Basil remembered the genia gossip of his father. Sir Her- cules, and he realized that Michael Grant was, indeed, a very dominant factor in this palace of dukes. “Well, Remington,” Basil heard Grant saying in a quiet voice, “I have brought Capt. Basil Mariott with me. He has an extraordinary story to tell about the whole occurrence. He has seen something. He knows some- thing.” Remington turned towards Marriott, and then for a moment the natural man burst through the veneer of su- avity and trained manner. “Oh, sir,” he said, wringing his hands with a gesture absolutely un- like his usual self possession—‘‘oh, sir, if you could throw any light upon this dark business, then God has sent you here!” Rather touched, and full of the quickening sense of mystery, of dis- aster, of imminent happenings, Basil passed with Michael Grant out of the vestibule and into the great hall. Remington attended them. The foot- man and the detective remained in their places by the front door. Marriott had heard from his father of the interior glories of the ducal house, but when he entered the mag- nificent marble hall, surrounded by its double columns of pure Carrara on their high continuous basement, he drew, even in that moment of excite- ment, a deep breath of pleasure and admiration. Looking up he saw the roof painted with armorial devices and floral wreaths, in blue, crimson, cream and gold. His eyes, falling a little, saw the famous frieze of green and crimson, with the burnished metal chain work hanging over all of it. He saw the enormous staircase of white marble, the huge purple carpet in the center, the gleaming statuary, the palms and the spacious galleries above. “Now, what will you do, sir?” Rem- mgton said. “Will you come into the library, where his grace, the duke of Perth and Sir Anthony Hellier, are? Or, perhaps—’ He _ paused, looking anxiously at the young man, not quite aware of his intention. Grant turned to Basil. “T don’t quite know what to do,” he said. “But I think, perhaps, it would be better if we saw the duchess first. As a matter of fact,” he continued, in a somewhat lower voice, though Rem- ington could easily have heard it had te wished,” the duke of Perth is of no use at all. And Sir Anthony Hel- lier—well, you know quite well what Sir Anthony Hellier is! Remington,” he said, “will you tell the duchess that I have arrived with Capt. Basil Marriott—Sir Hercules’ son—and that we have something most important to tell her, if she can possibly see us!” Remington called a man in livery, who was standing near, under the gal- ery, and gave him the message. The man disappeared. Grant and Marriott stood waiting n the hall, Remington talking earn- estly and in a low voice to the for- mer, occasionally turning to Basil and including him in the conversation. It seemed that nothing whatever had been discovered. The house was full of detectives and agitated guar- dians and connections of the little duke. No more complete bouleverse- ment could possibly be imagined. No- body knew what to do next. The im- passe was unprecedented, The footman came hurrying down the grand staircase, accompanied by a French woman in a black dress, who went straight to Michael Grant. “Madame la duchesse veut bien vous voir de suite,” she said. “Don- nez-vous, s’il vous plait, messieurs, la peine de monter!” Together the two young men fol- lowed the girl up the staircase, round the angle of the gallery, down the cor- ridor, and into the boudoir of the duchess. She was lying back in a long chair, dressed in a tea gown. Her dark vio- let eyes were ringed with gray. The kind, good-natured mouth drooped piteously. The» wonderful hair— seemed to have lost much of its color mz |and brilliancy. “Oh, Michael,” she said, in a thin, tremulous voice, “have you found out anything? Nobody knows anything. Nothing has happened. I think I shall die.” Grant. presented Basil Marrfott. She did not rise, but held out her hand to him. “Oh, I know your dear father so Interesting Facts The only effective and reliable remedy known for Gout, Dyspep- sia, Jaundice, Kidney and Blad- der troubles, Constipation, Head- ache, Biliousness and all disor- der of the bowels is DR.D.JAYNE’S SANATIVE PILLS For several generations they have been a household necessity for reliev- ing and curing complaints of this kind. They are safe and sure in every in- stance. Asa laxative, purgative and cathartic they are unexcelled. Sold by druggists ‘everywhere in 25c and 10c boxes \ It takes a tremendous lot of re- ligion to convert a man’s pocket. PATENTS. List of Patents Issued Last Week to Northwestern Inventors, Reported by Lothrop & Johnson, patent lawyers, 910 Pioneer Press building, St. Paul, Minn.: M. Berg, Battle Lake, Minn., valve gear; R. Carter, Rush City, Minn., game ap- paratus; A. F. Cralle, Aberdeen, S. D., extensible ladder; J. Henry, Grand Forks, N. D., grain door for cars; J. A. Larson, Hawley, Minn., belt guide and thrower; J. A. Linn, Vermillion, S. D., child’s folding bed; E. McClin- tock, St. Paul, Minn., relay. PERRY DAVIS’ PAINKILLER is “an ounce of prevention” as well as a “pound of cure.” For bowel troubles, skin wounds, colds and other ills. 35¢ and 50c sizes, Some preachers shout the glad tid- ings as though they were a death warrant. Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrap. For children teething, softens the gurus, reduces im flammation, allays pain, cures wind colic. 25ca bottle, The mosquito isn’t a prohibition- ist, yet he wants the bars removed. NO STROPPING NO HONING LAND — IRRIGATED — LAND. water right; fine water; productive sol failures unknown; 80 bu. wheat per acre; 83 to! alfalfa; healthful climate; free timber; easy term: Write DoW: LINWOOD LAND 00.s Rock Bprings, Wyoming: secrentsos Thompson's Eye Water “Sweet is revenge, especially to a Woman’s Hate well,” she said. “He is one of my most especial friends. But what is it, Michael? Why have you _ brought Capt. Marriott here? Does he know something?” The tense eagerness of her voice seemed to go into the air of the room like a knife. “Capt. Marriott has a most extraor- dinary story to tell you, duchess,” said Michael Grant. “About my boy? About my boy?” “Tt ih a most extraordinary story,” Grant continued gravely. “Capt. Mar- riott, tell the duchess what you saw.’ “I will tell you as briefly as I pos- sibly can, duchess,” Marriott replied. “I was coming back from a party— knowing nothing of the duke’s disap- pearance, of course—a little after 2 o’clock this morning. I turned into Piccadilly, and I was almost opposite your house. I stopped, because a most extraordinary thing was happen- ing. A long, black object, like a bun- dle, was swinging backwards and for- wards in the middle air, on the level of the first or second floor of the house, I cannot say which. It was swinging backwards and forwards just as.a great hay coart, apparently going towards Covent garden, came opposite the house. “Then the thing fell on the top of the cart, almost as if it had been thrown there. Whatever it was, it was a thing of about four or five feet in length. “Just as I was about to investigate, some one came noiselessly up behind me and struck me a violent blow upon the back of the head. I became un- conscious at once, and knew nothing more until I woke up this morning at midday in St. George’s hospital.” The duchess rose from her chair, and trembled like a reed in the wind. “Oh, what dark thing is this?” she said. “What is this? What dark thing is this?” She looked searchingly at Marriott for a moment ,swayed more violently, and cried out in a high-pitched voice, leaning towards Michael Grant, and then with a gasp she fell senseless into his arms. “Ring the bell, Marriott!” Grant said, and as he did so his face wore a look of appeal towards his new-found friend. It was an expression which showed that, unwittingly, he had al- lowed the newcomer to catch a glimpse of a most sacred and intimate companionship. It showed also that he relied. upon the honor and chivalry of a brother gentleman to say nothing of this to. the world. Capt. Marriott rang the bell. Hardly had the button been pressed than the French maid came hurrying in. As she arrived Michael Grant was supporting the duchess, and now passed the inanimate form to the French woman. It was hardly done when the duchess opened her eyes. “I have been very silly,” she said. “Oh, Michael! Michael!” Once more she said, “Michael! You have brought me news!” Then there was a silence in the rich and beautiful room. The duchess lay back upon the sofa. The frightened maid stood attendant upon her. The two men waited, neither knowing what to do nor how to explain more than they already done. “But I do not see what it all means!” the duchess said—piteously lovely, beautifully piteous. “Oh, but I do not see what it: all means! Where is my poor little boy? Why was it— Oh, what was it that Capt. Marriott saw? What does this mean?” Then Basil Marriott spoke. His face was singularly hard and stern. It seemed cut and carved like a face of marble. His voice came from him in jerks, as if the very words were expelled from his throat against his inclination. “Your grace,” he said, and his voice was harsh and rasping like the voice of a raven. “Your grace—” He swallowed—seemed unable to go on— recovered himself and _ continued. “Your grace, is it not possible that, before we talk any more, we could see Miss Decies, your grace’s aunt?” The duchess looked at him with wild and troubled eyes. “Oh,’ she said. “Yes, perhaps—per- haps Aunt Augusta might be able to help us—I will send for Aunt Au- gusta!” Each of the three persons there looked at the other two with anxious eyes. Nor did any one of them know what the next moment might bring forth. The next moment proved to be sin- gularly dramatic. Remington, the major domo, and head of the vast household, appeared. He burst into the room. His face was pale as linen. “Your grace,” he said to the duch- ess, “Miss Decies has been gone from the house since 10 o’clock this morn- ing! Your grace, his grace, the duke of Perth and Sir Anthony Hellier, are waiting outside the door. In fact—” He had hardly. grasped out these words when the venerable. duke of Perth and the thick-set little, black- bearded president of the local govern- ment board came into the room to- gether. The duchess was standing as as the two newcomers entered. “I do not understand,” she said; “I do not quite know—Sir Anthony, duke! What does this mean? What more has happened? I don’t think I can bear any more.” The old duke, feeble and tottering, but still with that wonderful pres- ence and manner, which was the re- sult and heritage of his many years of leadership in English social life, nodded and bowed to his hostess. “Beatrice,” he said, “my dear Be- atrice, you must prepare yourself for something singularly strange and sin- gularly sinister—” “Duchess!” Sir Anthony Hellier broke in. “Duchess, the duke is quite right. You are in very deep waters indeed.’ The duchess threw up her hands with a terrible gesture, which com- bined all her misery, all her fears, and was the acme of her despair. “Is there to be no end of this?” she said. “Will you not speak?” “Duchess,” Sir Anthony replied, “have you ever heard,” he said, in a calm and almost business-like voice, “of Fritz von Ravenstein?” “What has that got to do with my boy?” the duchess answered. “Tell me about my boy.” Sir Anthony continued. “Duchess,” he said, it is with the very greatest regret and the very greatest sorrow that I have to say to you what I am saying now. It seems that Miss Decies, your aunt, cannot be found in the house, and I am sorry to say she cannot be found for a very good and particular reason, as far as we know, and as far as we can guess.” “{ do not understand you,” said the Duchess helplessly. “You mean Aunt Augusta has gone out. You cannot find Aunt Augusta!” “I think it very probable,” said Sir Anthony Hellier, “that you will never see your father’s sister again. I think that, possibly, there are deep waters in this affair, and Miss Decies is cognizant of much that is hidden to us all.” Marriott turned to Michael Grant. He remembered the powerful voice of the girl in the Victoria street flat. He wanted to see how his companion would take this news from these great celebrated people. He saw nothing at all. Michael Grant was a figure of acute atten- tion, but no single emotion flitted across his face, nor animated his pose. “Beatrice,” said Sir Anthony, “pre. pare yourself for a great shock! Of course, today all Europe is excited by the terrible news of what -happen- ed last night. During the morning the German Ambassador, Baron Eu- lenburger, had occasion to call upon me at my Office. He had heard the news very early in the morning—ear- lier, indeed, than I thought it was possible for anybody to have heard it. But, for a certain reason I need only hint at, he was acquainted with all that had occurred, through channels I only dare insinuate at present. The Baron told me this.” Sir Anthony hesitated for a mo ment, and then assumed his narrative. The aron told me the most ex- traordinary fact that Miss Augusta Decies, your aunt, is not ‘miss’ at all, but that she is the baroness von Revenstein. The Baron von Raven- stein was many years ago, degraded and exiled from the Court of Wohlau- Landskrona. Your father’s sister, duchess, was, many years ago, gov- erness to the Princess Sophia Marie von Wohlau-Landskrona.” As Sir Anthony said these words the duchess threw up her hands with a despairing gesture. “Oh,” she said, “now it is all clear. It is terrible, but it grows clear! The princess! Oh, my little boy! My little boy!’ Michael Grant, Captain Marriott, and Sir Anthony Hellier looked at each other in alarm and surprise, but the Old Duke of Perth nodded to him. self with senile comprehension. (To Be Continued.) Asks New Trial Because Jury Posed, Counsel for Eugene Tucker, who was convicted of murder in the first degree in the criminal court in Springfield and sentenced to be hanged, will raise the point in an ap- plication for a new trial that the members of the jury while deliberat- ing on their verdict and before re. turning the same to court repaired in a body to a local photograph gal- lery and had a group picture taken. Tucker's counsel will make the point that in appearing in so public a place under such circumstances the jury was practically without the ju risdiction of the court and was guilty of an infraction of the law governing the conduct of juries in first degree murder cases. The motion for a new trial will be argued in a few days. Poets’ Wills. Famous poets make interesting wills. Browning’s was written in his] . own beautiful hand, with the initials of all the nouns substantive in capi tals, after the olden use; and the at testing witnesses were “A. Tennyson’ and “F. T. Palgrave.” Matthew Ar nold’s, also referred to, was remarka ble for its brevity. A baker’s dozen of words were deemed enough; “] leave everything of which I die pos. sessed to my wife Frances Lucy.” This, however, because no executor was appointed, had to be set aside for letters of administration, but the result was the same. These two fa mous wills form, with Shakespeare’s, the most notable trio perhaps ever handled by probate in this country. Even the Bible-reading girl is apt to be skeptical when she turns to the page where the date of her birth is recorded. RE BE. 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