The evening world. Newspaper, March 20, 1914, Page 21

! | | 3 | t z si rll ube I ; il I f Hi aE il apes f i ij : i f ! & i z iH fi ly i Hit ts eigtiti Hii CHAPTER XVIII. F ever I needed help of a slick lawyer, I guess it's now,” mused Mr. Devine. “IN go to town and look up Bob Driscoll.” Aad he went at once. Within an hour, ‘Adele, made inquisitive by her father’s newly secretive manner, had wormed from the old gentleman the fact that some one—he would not say whom—had recently been locked up in one of the outbuildings. A business rival, she gathered. Adele strolied out in the grounds to \oussle over this new mystery. From owe of the smallest buildings, a low stone structure which she judged must be the ice house, issued a cheery | beam of light. Bome one was stand- ' Ing in the half opened doorway. Only \ (or an instant did this spectacle re- | main visible. Then the door waa shut with a bang and the yellow ray dis- Appeared. A moment later the Count- tas thought she could distinguish a man making his way across the lawn toward the servants’ wing of the house. Keeping the figure of the man in tight, she began to walk parallel with him, in order to see where he was go- ing. When she saw he was making directly for the side door of the south wing, and started to run. She was waiting behind the woodbine trellis when the man who had come from the ice house stepped into the square of light which poured out through the kitchen window onto the gravel path. “Why, Timmins! Is !t you?” | Obviously it was, On one hand he balanced a tray, in the other he car- tied a formidable looking club. He seemed fully as surprised to see the Countess as she was in discovering him. “What !s it you have there, Tim- igs?” she continued. “Why, Miss, I've been a-givin’ the Y thelr supper. Ain't they the clever little nippers, though! You ought to see the way they carries on when”—— “Yes, I know. But I thought you usually carried their food in a pail. ‘What have they had to-night?” And before Timmins could protest she had fted the linen cover which had been thrown over the tray. A variety of dighes stood revealed. “Why, Timmins! Surely the coach puppies do not eat French chops?” “Why don't you remember? Four months ago to-night? Course, its a bit of foolishness, but Mre, Timmins would have it that way. ‘Puppies ‘ag Dirthdays’ eays eho ‘just the ame’ "—— “But puppies don’t eat baked pota- toes, even on birthday anniversaries; do they, Timmins?’ Y é “Baked potatoes! Do they? Why, ‘Mies, they just loves ‘em, eo they do.” “And peas,and ine?” “T’e a bit wonderful, Miss, but them puppies has the most educated appe: Hees of any coach puppies I ever see.” “Bo I should judge,” commented the Countess, etill eyeing the tray. “But there's one thing I can't ace count for still. How many puppies are there, Timmins?” of ‘em, miss. “ane onty one ef them drinks tea?” Tes Countess was pointing signif- cantiy at « single teacup, the epoon vesting in the saucer. * But that’s a Tes for the Oh, ob! for me, sometimes drinks it whilet Figs Wa ie ae i ; § H @ Countess should have deception. a weak attempt at a Dut it turned into « smile, and & rippling laugh, in which Tim- genuinely. Timmins, that you're puppies, The last time , they were in the now you came from "t you? You aren’t i att elie, it a i i tg Th _A COMPLETE NOVE Inn't he lonesome?” “Naturally, Miss, naturally. But T'll tell yow how it was. You see"— “Never mind, Timmins. doubt you could explain it all very thoroughly. But suppose you save it for another time,” and the Countess Vecchi tripped off into the darkness toward the front door. Early the next morning, before any one else on Hewington Acres had even roused and turned over for a ¢ eunrise map, the Countess Vecchi stole quietly downstairs, let herself out of the front windows, and walked determinedly in the direction of the ¢ ice house. CHAPTER XIX. EANWHILE “Cherub” De- usual directness. He went straight to Mr. Robert Dria- "age client would not have ing attempted to find Mr. Driscoll at that hour in the evening; or, having found him, would hardly have expected him to give le; advice out of business hours. But “Cherub” Devine never stopped to inquire whether or not he was violating professional ethics or @ intruding on personal privacy. He knew that Bob Driscoll would most likely be found either, at his club or at home. Five minutes in a tele- phone booth settled the question. Mr. Driscoll was at home. He would be glad to see “Cherub.” Mr. Devine hatled a taxicab and within half an hour was being shown into a back room whose walls were lined from floor to ceiling with thick books bound in calfskin. Behind a flat-topped desk in the middle of the room, minus coat, waistcoat and col- lar, and wearing a green eyeshade, was & boyish-faced man whom one might have taken to be still in his twenties were it not for the?pepper and salt mixture in his dark hair. The con- tents of several fat indexing envelopes were spread out before him. “Whew!” exclaimed = “Cherub.” “Guess some one'll have to settle a bill for overtime.” Mr. Driscoll smiled, tossed the eye- shade on the desk, and waved Mr. Devine towards a chair. “Do much of this night work?" asked the “Cherub.” “Have to, I suppose, to keep things running?” Again Mr. Driscoll smiled. He was quite used to Mr. Devine's breezy manner. Also he could not but ad- mire the accuracy with which the je grasped her skirts firmly, “Cherub” had estimated the situation, Not that Mr. Driscoll really needed to spend his evenings at the desk, but {t helped. He had just been sending out a few personal checks. He had a wife and daughter who were shopping in Paris, a son who w England in an au- tomobile, and an invalid sister who was taking baths and other things at Hot Springs. Mr. Driscoll did not mention these details, He merely ‘asked of Mr. Devine what was up. “All kinds of things,” responded the ‘Cherub,” dropping into a red leather chair and extracting one of his black cigara from a waistcoat pocket. "Give me the matches, will you, Bob?” Mr. Driscoll waited,a look of amused indulgence on his face, until Mr. Devine was thoroughly prepared for the comfortable speech. That great lawyer was one of those men who waste few words in trivial dis- courte, It always seemed as if he was trying to live up to his reputa- tion of charging $10 per word for everything he said. Mr. Devine knew better, for he practised the same economy of speech. “Firstly,” began the “Cherub,” “you're the chief attorney for that blasted ratiroad I've just loaded up with, aren't you?” Mr. Driscoll nodded. “Good! Now, as my private coun- el, I'd Mke to have you tell mo if T can safely get rid of being president of it within the next twenty-fou hours?" L “Not tired of it so goon, are you?” “Tired! Why, eay, Bob, there tan't work enough about a job of that kind to keep a man awake. I put in all one day trying to find things to do. By 10 o'clock I'd O. K.'d a bas- ketful of general orders that I didn't know anything about, fired three fluffy-haired typewriter girls and is- gued a dosen annual passes to my friends, Then my private secretary and I eat around and looked at each other until luncheon time, I dién't show up again. No, no, Bob! It may be highly respectable and all that, but I've got to be where there's something doing. I want to get back into the Street. Put in old Rimmer for president, Now for item No, 2: Bet # million you can't guess what Tve been doing!” “Stake too high,” laughed Mr. Driscoll, “but I think I could come near guessing. You've been getting married.” ‘Z—a—s—ing! but that was close— I don’t think,” repiied the “Cherub.” “You're within gunshot, though, Bob. And I expect I might as well own up that I'd like to, but there’s no hope. I found the right girl, all right; and I'd just told her about it, when who should show up but a bubby.” I've no vine had-acted with his GOOBDOHBOOGDHHDDODHODIDODDDOGQHODSDS) ‘Right! I thought all along she a widow. Every one thinks He's one of these cheap macaroni Counts, regular wife-beater, and their honeymoon didn’t last more that a few hours. She leaves him in Italy and comes home. Then it's reported that he has died in a sanitarlum— family don't deny it, girl puts on black, and all hands hope it will soon be so, But he refuses to die and comes over here to hold them up for cash. Ags it happens, the first person he runs across is me. Now what do you suppose I did to him?” Mr. Driscoll's eyes concentrated seriously on the bland face “Cherub” Devine. “I hope”— he began. “Oh, I didn’t hurt him,” interrupted “Cherub.” “i'm no hot head—never struck a man in my life—wouldn't know how. Lut perhaps I did worse. I decoyed him to®cu ice house and locked him in there.” “You what!” Even the composure of Bob Driscoll was stirred by this unique confession. “Sounds like a college boy stunt, or Black Hand outrage, don't it? But it was the only thing I could think of at the time, Something had to be done right away, Ttere he was, hanging around the house, and laying his plans to bleed the family for as much as he could scare out of them. So I just jollied him along to the ice house, tolled him inside, and shut the door on him.” “You say his claim is"—— “A clear game of blackmall. Her father promised to pay /an annuity. He can't. Hasn't got a dollar. About all the girl has is her home. They've been separated for over two yea: Could he collect anything on that?" “Not in our courts. So you locked him up, did you? Why didn't you let him make his demand, and then have him arrested on @ charge of blackmail?” “Couldn't. That would bring out the whole story. See? Shi been posing as a widow. That's her father’s work. Think of what tbo papers would make of that. No, no! ‘We don't want to go into court, and the Count mustn't. Just now he's fe in the ice house; safe and com- fortable, but hot under the collur. Calls me a kidnapper. Ise there any- thing In that?” Mr. Driscoll made a brief mental review of the case before answering. “I'm afraid, Cheryb, that he's right. That would be the technical charge. It’s rather a serious offence, too—fel- ony, you know.” “All right, I'm not squeamish. Look up some good criminal lawyer, will you, and have him let me know bow far I can go. “M—m—m—m"—— murmured Mr. Driscoll through pursed lips. “Why not soothe him with a few hundred- dollar bills and let him out?” “That's where my fool pride comes in, Bob. Didn't know I had but I guess I have. See here; 1 can't buy off the husband of the girl I—well, it don't seem right. That would stick in my crop.” “But you can't imprison a man in- definitely on your own hook, Cherub, Why, man. you would run tho risk of @ long term of imprisonment!" "IT suspected that. Well, I can stand it if he can, And he gets his dose firat.” Mr. Driscoll looked long and ear- neatly at the “Cherub.” At iast he euggested: “You must be very fond of the young woman, Devine.” “That's putting it mildly, Bob, and she's worth it, too. Why, say, the pest, sweetest, outet—- Bus ri EACH . that, of, — sy COQODOOOHOOOO I've got no right to talk like It's all off. There's that in- fernal Count “Why hasn't she divorced him?" “Against her principles, I like her all the better for it too, Oh, sho's the genuine article, Bob, And I've got to give her up. Honest, it's tough. But this isn't getting on, Bob, If I'm going to have dealings with this Count Vecchi, I want to know wno he is and all about him. Might stir up something that would be useful, you know.” “Good idea,” commented Mr. Dris- coll, “It's the way I like to do business. Now what connections have you with any private Information bureau on the Continent?” “There's Deufsieltors, in Vienna, “Slower than creeping paralysis! We'd get a report in about six months. No, we'll try Jimmy Mc- Quade. Used to be one of the Record- Herald boys in Chicago. Now he's at the head of a newspaper syndicate in Paris, He's got columns of stuff out of me. And he's the kind that will get a move on. I'll cable him to- night to look up this Count of mine and wire back full details, Eh? So there! long, Bob. I'll drop in at your office about noon to-morrow.” Before midnight Mr. Devine had thought of other things to do, and he had done them. So by morning the results of his activities had spread, as ripples on a pond when an exuberant black bass comes out after an ap- petizing fly. From a downtown de- tective agency four men were starting out to guard the exits to Hewington Acres, with orders to stop and hold a slim young man wearing a frock coat and a silk hat should he at- tempt to leave the grounds. In Paris Jimmy McQuade, an unofficial but clever detective, was preparing to catch the Orient express for Northern Italy. ” ‘The most skilful criminal lawyer in New York had been summoned by telephone to a consultation with Mr, Driscoll, and Mr. Nicholas Wallo- way was to find on his deck a code letter of instructions covering a new and wholly audacious stock deal which would make things hum on the floor of the Stock Exchange a few hours later. “Cherub” Devine was again in his familiar element, emotions of outwardly a still placid “Cherub,” but with a hint of sternness in the smooth outlines of his closely shaven jaw. CHAPTER XX. HAT would have been the 1 Sherub” De- | vine could he have known that the Countess Vecchi had risen before the sun was fairly up for the purpose of inter- viewing bis prisoner? Perhaps you have been astir at that initial hour of day? Oh, such things occur in the lives of the soundest sleepers among us. But If you haven't, at ‘least you hay of poets and descriptive writere—all about the crystal air, and the dew- covered grass, and the opening flow- ers, Take my word for it, it's all so, especially about the dew. And allow read the effusions me to record the fact that the Coun- tess wore rubbers. Had she been a romantically mind- ed young person, we should have been obliged to picture her in @ trailing white gown and dainty slippers, Probably with paper soles, and wa The Adventures of In a Country Estate of Myste should have wondered how long it was before she had the snuffies in her Pretty nose. But, tink goodness, she was not romantically inclined. What bores they are, those loppy young women, who gush about Impossible things, and seem always to be posing for the benefit of some one or other. Do you know what becomes of them? No, they do not marry the broad- shouldered heroes. Generally they don’t marry at all, but grow Into fam- ily afflictions in the form of headachy maiden aunts, or reform and get to be really useful echool teachers, ac- cording to the fortunes of their rela- tives, It is the well-balanced, practical 8 young women of sound sense and high spirit who sometimes fly off on # tan- gent and do the really romantid things. For Instance, take the Coun- tess Vecchi. Here she was at this unusual hour and entirely alone, ® standing before the padiocked door of the ice house, bent on finding out who was shut up there, and why. Your loppy young woman might dream of adventures far more thrill- ing, but she would take it out to dreaming. Would she have the courage to investigate a real mye- tery, such as this? The Countess Vecchi was beginning to wish that she hadn’t come, after all, Who could say what sort of prisoner she might be on the point of rousing? A man who was “Cherul Devine's rival for some woman's affections, #o her father had good as sald. But she could not believe that now. Perhaps for the moment after she had heard it the thing seemed possible, but since then she had thought the matter out, and her faith in the “Cherub” had re- newed it-lf. No, no! He was too genuine to be guilty of such double dealing. Had he not gone straight from her, in that one wild moment of yielding madness, to his encounter with this unknown person? ‘There might be a dozen other rea- sons which had led the “Cherub” to lock somebody up—only she could think of none at the time. But he must have had a good cause. Per- haps the man was a criminal, or @ dangerous lunatic? The’ Countess shrank away from the padlocked door and glanced anxiously about. It might have been wiser to have waited until later, and then insisted upon Timmins coming with her. But no, she felt that she wanted no witnesses to this interview. Sup- pose her father’s version ‘should be correct? The Countess lifted a de- termined chin and stepped briskly up to the heavy door, Smartly she wrapped on the oaken panel—and im- mediately pressed her = tingling knuckles to her lips. Breathlessly she waited for a response from within. Had it come in the shape of angry roars, accompanied by a@ rattling of chains, she would hardly have been surprised. The least she expected was 4 growl, But nothing of the sort did she hear. No sound at all came from behind the thick door. Next the Countess doubled up one fist and tried to make a noise by hammering the wood. This was .« failure, too. Then she looked around for @ small stone, found it, wrapped her handkerchief about one end, and proceeded to evoke @ series of loud thumps. ‘This proved effective, for an instant later she heard a creaking, as of wire springs, and a sleep-laden voice murmured some indistinct reply. “Hello! hello!” called the Countess, rapping again, this tine with @ tone, “Eh? What? What's the matter?’ caine in thick, wheesy tones. “Please get up! Come closer to the door, will you?” ‘More and livelier creakings fol- lowed, and then a querulous response, “Go away. I don't want my break- fast now. I--I"—then came a pro- longed yawn. “I can't eat breakfast, anyway, I've got @ beastly cold in my head. Go away, I tell you.” “I haven't brought you breakfast,” id the Countess, a little impatiently, I just want to know why you are in our ieehouse. That's all. What are you doing In there, anyway?” “What—why— Well, I like that! What am I doing in your Icehouse, eh? Do you suppose I—I—a-a-at- choo-0-0-0! A-a-a-ateho o! There, blast it! Do you Imagine I would lock myself in such a hole from choice? Say, who the deuce are you out there, anyway?” “Never mind who I am,” retorted the Countess. "I'm very sorry you've caught cold, Indeed lam, But please tell me who you are?" “Ob, ho! So that's it, eh? Well, you wait a minute, will you, until I— I"-—— but another sneezing Ot toter- rupted this sentence, When it was over the Countess heard him moving something against the door and was soon conscious that someone was gazing at her through the auger holes, She thought she could distinguish © smothered ex- clamation of surprise “Well?” she observed. see now?" “Can you } quite well, thank you.” i on't know any mort who I am than before, do you “Don't I, though’ and the un- known chuckled, "You're the Coun- voas Vocab” = _ ae Wall Street Man |= ries |=— “Humph!” sald the "That's a mere guess.” ia it? Then I dare you to deny that you aren't. Come! Am I not right, my dear Adele?’ The Countess started and tossed her head angrily. “It doesn’t matter in the least about my name. I asked for yqurs.” “And if I gave it—what then?” “Why—why, I'll know who you are,” and the Countess could not re- » & little emile, “Really! How perfectly simple! But it suite me better not to give it.” “Then perhaps you will tell me why you are in there?” "Oh, certainly. There's no mystery about that. The door is locked on the outside.” “But who did it?” “A etout, pink faced person who ts widely knowa, I believe, as ‘Cherub’ Devine.” “An!" The Countess id net mean to allow this exclamation to be audible, but it was. “Bo he haan't told you about it yet, T™ commented the unseen prisoner. itupid of me, wasn't It, to allow bim to trick me so easily? But I didn’t know all that f know now. You wait! Your Mr. Devine is going to Tegret that he was eo clever.” “But why did he do it?” “Why not ask Mr. Devine?” “Of course,” sald the Countess, “it it'e something you are ashamed tor— “Now that's very subtle of you, very. But I'm not ashamed. I'd just as soon tell you as not. You might have guessed anyway. There's a lady in the case,’ “A—® lady!" gasped the Countess. “Bome one that—tbat Mr. Devine"—— Countess. “Exactly. I found out only re- cently.” The arched lips of the Countess Vecchi were pressed tightly together, her chin was held very firmly; al- though she could see nothing but the auger holes in the thick door, she otared hard at them. “And you—" she went on, after a pause, “you are interested in her alao?” “Tl explain all that. When he found that I happened to be the ledy’s hus- band he decoyed me here and locked me up.” “Oh, oh! Her husband! believe a word of it, not a word! —it’s a mistake, all a mistake.” “Really? The prisoner seemed to find something entertaining in her apparent agitation, for there was @ hint of amused tolerance in his tone. “Where does the mistake come in? I'm shut up here fast enough, am I not?) No mistake about that, is there . “No, no,” admitted the Countess. “But about the—about your wife, you know. Why should you think that Mr. Devine cares enough for her to—to be so unjust tolyou as this?” “Only because he as good as told me so himself. You see, my wife and I have been living apart. He thought T was a: When I appear, he finde me in the way. So he locks me up. But if there's any mistake I wish you'd point it out to Mr, Devine. Think there is, eh?" “Oh, I don't know what to think.” ‘To be sure it would have been much finer and nobler if the Countess Vecchi had held to her faith in erub"” Devine, if she had denied this implication of fickleness with scornful lips and flashing eye. That would have been the approved man- ner, But why pretend? ‘We know her too well for that. It ie more than likely that, if the eyes of the Countess ftashed at all, the flashes had a greenish b and we woulda’t be too positive that, if “Cherub” De- vine had been within reaching dis- tance of her firm white hands at this particular moment, he wouldn't have hed his ears boxed. However, she found nothing more to do than wring her hands and de- clare over and over that she did not know what to think. And why shouldn't eo have been in doub«! Here was corroboration in detail of her father’s unwillingly told story. And here was the prisoner in the ice house. She wanted most to run back home, lock herself in her room, aad bang things around a@ bit before tbe teurs came, She knew they woult come, and soon, for the Hewingtons almost always cried most when very engry. There was one old Continental Hewington who, so the story runs, wept and cursed all through the bat- tie of Monmouth Plains, when u Hes- sian officer had stirred his fighting blood by an awkward jab with a sword point, ‘The Countess Vecchi was detor- mined to hold back the tears, though, until she had put @ few more ques- tions. yy were the ones she had been Fey to ask from the first Presently she asked: “This—this other— No, I mean this lady of whom you speak; is she young?" “Just twenty-three.” “My own age,” thought the Coun- teas, Then she added aloud: “And whe ts quite pretty, | suppose?” "Oh, she's pretty enough. But it's chiefly her cute ways which make i fascinating to men.” Tee Counjess saugeh seg 1 don’t b Ble breath sharply, “Then she te fas- windows, where he was furling. Au or” cinating? Is she a blond?” awning. “Not @ bit—lovely dark hair, big Eppings remembered having’ Gark eyes, Her eyes are ber strong old Lord DevonSeld walk much the same calm and point.” “Oh, I eee!” commented the Coun- manner tens, Then, to herself, “it’s because only a second man at I look something like her. And she's And Eppings sighed contentedly, fee or well wing young and fascinating. Humphi" it was “Gilad 3 could tell you about ber,” vante’ observed the prisoner, “but if you turbing don't mind, I think I'll climb down Was over. off thie cot, It's rather rickety, offered and I feel another sneestn: com- Countess Vecchi, and twice he ing on. Wes there anything more?’ been scornfully refused. The ‘There was much art in this assump- maid knew all the details. She thon of meekness. It aroused the rehearsed the and the Countess Veeck! to an inetant realiza- “help;” tion of her own selfishness. Here. dou! she was, forgetting the injustice which had been done to this stranger. left carriage drive. He He was being held by “Cherub” De- nu leading a half-grown c vine, @ prisoner, and in the Hewing- He had been sent to puvohase the from the Wilbur-Tremways’ “T beg pardon," she said earn- “alryman. Not that she greatly ton ice eatly. “Yoo, there is something more. Listen. You must go away from here #° clear idea what they would do at once.” it, but “Nothing would please me better, Fested that there should be mere but I can’t crawl through these holes.” Stock about the place, and “[ know, and I haven't a key to the be had mentioned this particilar So Timmins, as he led bis 4 can’t get the key I ehall demand that bome, wae experiencing that calm you be eet at liberty. [I'll go to my Satisfaction of one who has the day. Somehow the calf was “Oh, I wouldn't bother them about too, though just why, it would ft, Just you say nothing at all, but, hard to say.’ Such animals do find the key, undo the lock, and then their restful moments, however, ae olip away. Perhaps you'd better wait any rate, the calf and Timmins, until afternoon, Then they'll all be !ng lelsurely up the drive, Mr. Hews and wonder how I did it, ington mooning about the Hh? Wouldn't it be better to do it Eppings in the window, and her invalid aunt “But it's auch a shame, keeping you Veranda, all seemed to harmony with the was an the hour and know how padlock, But I shall get one. If If father, to Mr, Devine, and”—— oul that way?” shut up here like a criminal.” “That's so, IT told them outrage. And I've caught a frightful cold, too. But it isn't so bad in the daytime. I can sleep most of the and it will be a lot more fan to them the slip when they're not pect! Much better than raising row about it, and letting all oer. vants know. Think you can Gad the key, don't you? “Any time after luncheon will do. And say, I'm groatly obliged, you know, You're a trump. It's mighty of you.” i isn't at all. I couldn't do and \f I ever speak to Mr. again, it will be only to tell bim I think of such cruel Goodby. I'm going now.” “Goodby—and good luck,” faintly through the air-holes ts the door. ons could not see the grimace of satis- of the faction which accompanied the words. Wes Her frame of mind wae none too an- looked gelic ae it was. She had decided, was in however, to postpone any outburst of the silk feeling, either by violent handling of Sunset’ of the furniture or by weeping. Firet Had of all, she meant to get the key to hind that padlock on the ice-bouse door, mine | 4US it happened something Only one exit from Hewington + the time the right gateway, by after this fashion: the time a ead he cak afternoon, betweeD businesslike gait in making was | 6 and 6 o'clock, when the ‘The golden autumn day was startled and pusslr'. He did about to end in « blase of sapphire *° shout and alarm the house, light that was soon to fade into an —.) o» empty arch of turquoise blue. steamer rugs by the nurse, put in ber ater 4 wheeled chair, and rolled out on an Vou the sun drop down towards the dis- hinted upen tant Connecticut hills across the mins the ngcessity of keeping a watch found. The Countess Vecchi was alka’ reading to her a@ thrilling story of biood-thrilling kind in which men of the starve to death most horribly, or ® #mart whack on the ribs, rudeigid) — rousing else indulge in unique homicide for nade The calf jumped A : the sake of weirdly bouutiful hero- aiq Timmins. Yanking ont daaeagl ines, who wear fur trousers and sit In ing, running and leaping, the palr.ptpdi ; the snow. The invalid aunt, who was em peyereg impetuously aci a deg the velvety lawn, crashing smanded' ahrubbery, dodging between trees, ama". such strong literary refreshment, and making a straight course for the right 3 really a gentle old soul, would accept none other, band 4. Down in the garden old Mr, Hew- tngton, with bie hands clasped in eee surprised indignation of the calf. have all we can manage to ploturmd? date manner behind his back, poked 114 oo musingly about the paths among the prisoner when he saw himself headed asters and dahilas, What he was off by mooning about doesn't matter, He ‘0ubt he Instantly recognized Tim- ming ment’ doubled ing to house. presented a very calm and dignified appearance, and added just the right human touch to the picture. At least, Eppinga thought so, as he caught a glimpse of him from oné of the front By H. de Vere Stacpoole WILL BEGIN IN By Sewell Ford ‘fF TY w’Cca Above Perhaps it was best that the Count- only the : t a i aim and view over the ‘The wish to release the calf. Yet he invalid aunt had been wrapped in not stand there and what would become of the generegn upper veranda, where she could wate gratuity of which Mr. Devine Timming’s sharp little cyes Alaskan adventure—one of the creepy, rowed menacingly. With the free esd Let us not pause to consider ¢ THE SHIP OF CORAL when he, Eppings, hed Cottley that reign of hie hand Jersey calf. In fact, she Timmins had long age it gs i E i quietly i g ‘* fe! nH Hid é i | eFE 8s I i ud St | f F x 4 sTEE jill which 5 E 7 discreet Timmins it is vr e¢ for that would the prisoner. Neither did he ‘That would never “Cherub Devine say? when he impressed on the occupant of the rope he gave the Jersey calfoe it from its peaceful riveway. ‘ofa fo ty naternation of the escaping the incongruous tandem. Ne? his jailer, for, after a mo- astonished besitation, he on his tracks, evidently mean- make a wide circult ef the (To Be Continued.) a