The evening world. Newspaper, August 17, 1914, Page 11

OOQDODHSOOOQOHIOHHOHON 133 The Eveni LOOOOD OOOO OOK CHAPTER I. A Maker of Maps. HERE w: 8 rustle in the bu the sound of twigs snapping, e soft foot-fall on the dead leaves, Marche stopped, took his pfpe out of his mouth, and lis- All around lay the beautiful Lorraine forests, dim and sweet, dusky as velvet in theiy leafy depths. He heard the little river Lisse, flowing, flowing, where green branches swept Its placid surface with a thousand new-born leaves; he heard @ throstle sigging in the summer wind. Sud- @enly, bri Lorrain Morteyn. —a big, gray timber-wolf, far ahead, something gray shambled loosely acro: h heap, slunk under a fallen tree, and loped on again. For a moment Marche refused to believe hig own eyes. the path, leaped A wolf in here, within a mile of the Chateau ‘Voices came nearer; two people were approaching the carrefour. Jack Marche, angry and dirty, looked through the bushes, stanching a long gcratch on hiswrist with his pocket- handkerchief. The people were in Sight now—a man, tall, square- shopldered, striding swiftly through the woods, followed by a young girl, Twice she sprang forward and seized him by the arm, but he shook her off roughly and hastened on. As they entered the carrefour, the girl ran in front of him and pushed him back with all her strength. said th his balance, this before lose pa- girl way with slen@er arms outstretched. hat are you doing in my woods?” ‘Answer me! I will pas: He held a roll of papers in hand; in the other, stec} compasses that glittered in the su! “1 ehall not let you pass rately. “You shall not pass! to know what it mea you and the others come into my woods and make maps of every pat! of every brook, of every beidae ye ft every wall and tree and rock! I ave seen you before—you and the others. You are strangers in my country!" cet ‘out of my path,” sajd the man eullenty. “Then gtve me that map you have made! I know rst tt gre! You come from across the ine!" The man scowled and stepped to- wi . tre a German spy!" ehe cried lonate! "You little fool!” be snarled, seis- ing ber arm. He shook her brutally; the scarlet skirts Guttered, a little came in the velvet bodice, the heavy, shining hair tumbled down her eyes. : a ment Marche had the man He held bim there, in and again in the face. man tried to stab him with the net Cobclarrng ip pee M ai mn. 8 ee him until he chok ttered and collapsed on t! only to stagt to his feet d lurch into the thicket of wth. There he tripped and fell as che had f on the ivy, but, unlike Marche, he wri der the bushes and ran on, low, never gl said; “I'm sure you take me for a oi Bho slanced at his legs "Now." he » WE ask emis- sion to explain; im afraid it you will be inclined to doubt explan- ation. I almost doubt it myself, but here it Is. Do you know that there are wolves in these woods?" “Wolves? she repeated, horrified. "E saw one; I followed it to this jainst @ tree; her jes. wai lence. Then she said: “You will not believe what I am ‘go- ing to say—you call it suj le tlon—perhaps spupidiy put do yo know that w ared salon; lore @ batt! were seen be! jo you in. kn I dla not go, and doubtless the aid vicomte is saying, ‘I wonder why Lorraine does not ie? and de Morteyn re- piles, ‘Lorraine {9 a very. uncertain quantity, my dear’—ob, I am that they are saying these thing “I think I heard some such di: logue yesterday,” said Marche, itWeil, thea, bi , then, would you believe it? I—Larraine de Nesvilie—have out- grown my clothes, monsieur, and my beautiful new gowns are com- fe from Paris thie week, “and ‘hen! sepeated M: ie. “Thea you shall see,” said Lor- wales, Sravely. lack, bewildered, fascinated, stood leaning on his gun, watching every — of the lithe figure before “Until your gowns arrive I shall not see you again?” he asked. Bhe looked up quickly. “De you wish to’ “Very much!” he biurted gut. and hen, aware of the undup fervor he ad shown, wipe + “Very much— if you don't mind,” in @ subdued but anxtous voice, Again she raised her eyes to his, doubtfully, perhaps a little wistfully. “It wouldn’t be right, would it~ until you are presented?” He was silent. |, looking into 1 often come to‘thé river ror below, usually after luncheon.’ stant. Instinctively he ra! gun, hesitated, lowered it, still wateh- ing the running man with cold, bright eyes. “Well,” he sal behind him, I to have fire: I didn't! He .and your skirt!"" The girl stood breathk me, barnished tangled owing. her cyes. “We have the a iittle gi Marche picked up a crumpled roll of paper from the ground and opened it. ‘It contained a rough topographical sketch of the surroending country, a detail of a dozen small forest paths, a map of the whole course of the river Lisse from its source to its junction with the Moselle, and a beau- tiful plan of the Chateau de Nesville. “That is my house,” said the girl; as a map of my house. How a ‘The Chateau de Nesville?” asked he, agtonished; “are you Lor- ra 0? “Yes! I'm Lorraine. Didn't you knew it rraine de Nesville?" ne repeated eu sly. Yen How dares that German to into my woods 808 make maps k ross the seen him before— nd measuring along . I told my father, but he thinks only of bis balloons. [have seen others, too—other strange men in the chase—always measuring or staring about or drawing. Why? iat do Germans want of maps of ce? 1 thought of it all day— ev: day; I watched, I listened tn the forest. And do you know what [ think?” hat?” asked March he pushed hack her and faced him. fart” she sald, a a lew salon) oe v he rel ed, stupidly. fied ot "arn ‘ard the turning to the girl ‘8 gone Dow, Ought Ma fol! I'm sotry § torn your bodice » cheeks air shad- map,” she said with lendid hair ide. far! Yes! War! War! War! not tell you how I know it—I If how—and to myself t is coming! J, Lorraine, itt light flashed from her eyes, Fein homers in Jul, in dreams I gee and. ‘hear now donne id rds ‘wit th 4 than the settt: all land of France I bayonets, foot moving, like the Rhine in ha light in her eyes died out; she gt up; her lithe young body you are the vicomte's nephi a a the Chateau Morteyn?” she ws," gaid Marche, c you are Monsieur Jack yohe?” v6 took off his shooting cap and ea‘ frankly. “You find mi ® gun on your ground bh } POCONO OOOO, In a second she had gone, straight away through the forest, leaving in his ears the music of her voice, on pie erker tips the touch of her warm ni CHAPTER II. Telegrams for Two. JACK MARCHE tucked his gun under his arm and turned sway along the overgrown wood-road that stretched from the De Nes- ville forests to the more open .woads of Morteyn. He walked slowly, puffing his pipe, pondering over bis encounter with the chatelaine of the Chateau de Nes: ville. He thought, too, of the old Vicomte de Morteyn and his gentle wife, of the little hougc party of which he and his ir Dorothy made two, of Sir Thorald and Lady Hesketh, their youthful and totally irrespon- sible chaperons on the journey from Paris to Morteyn, “They're lunching on the Lasse,” he thought. “I'll not get a bite if Ricky ia there.” When Madame de Morteyn wrote to Sir Thorald and Lady Hesketh on the first of July, she asked them to chaperon her two nieces and some other pretty girls in the American colony whom they might wish to bring, for a month, to Morteyn. “The deuce!” sgid Sir Thorald when ‘am I to pick out tho girls, Molly?" “Be ct the men,” weetly; “you ited great many, and wrote a list for his wife. That prudent young wo: carefully crossed out every name, saying, re IT am ashamed of you! and substituted another Iist. Bhe had chosen, besides Dorothy ‘Marche ane Betty Castlemaine, the two nieces in queation, bara id her in- geparable little German friend, Alixe van + also the latter’s brother, Rickerl, or Ricky, a# he was called in diplomatic circles, She closed the list with Cecil Page, knew that Betty Cast ame de Morteyn’s younger niece, looked kindly, at times, upon this blond giant. The days had flown very swiftly for alli Jack Marche taught Barbara Lisle to fish for gudgeon; Betty Cas- tlemaine tormented Cecil Page to his infinitely miserable delight; Ricky von Elster made tender eyes at Dorothy Marche and rowed her and down the Lisse; and his sister Alixe read sentimental verses under the beech-trees and sighed for the sweet mysteries that young German ee igh ' for—heart-friendships, lovers, Ewigkelt—God knows what!— something or othey that turns the ter: iP ace—it was almost an ingult, LN ere ye hua pi Lk Mae . Sate aia ct n¢ World Dafly A Complete Novel Each A Great FRANCO-PRUSSIAN © DODDOOGDOOHOOOSS: » @OOOOO56: heart to tears until everything slops over and the very heavens . . The little trotting across the meadow, waying two blue envelopes. ‘Monsieur le Capitaine Rickerl von Elster and Monsieur Jack Marche— two telegrams this instant from Paris, messieurs! I safute you.” “Don't apologize—read your tele- grams!” said Lady Hesketh; “dear me! dear me! if they take you two and leave Thorald, I shall—I yawn!" Ricky's broad face changed as he read his despatch: and. Molly Hi keth, shamelessly peeping over shoulder, exclaimed, “It's cipher! How stupid! Can you understand it, Ricky?" Yes, Rickerl von . Elster under- stood it well enough. He paled a little, thrust the crumpled telegram into his pocket, and looked vaguely at the circle of faces. After a mo- ment ho said, standing very stra must leave to-morrow mornin, Recalled? Confound your am- bassador, Ricky!" said Sir Thorald. “Recalled to Paris in midsummer! Well, I'm"-— “Not to Parla,” sald Richard with a curious catch in his voice—‘‘to Ber- lin. [ join my régiment at once.’ Jack Marche, who had been study- ing his telegram with puzzled eyes, held it out to Sir Thorald. “Can't make head or tall of it; can you?" he demanded, Sir Thorald took it and read aloud: “New York Clarion offers you your own price and all expenses. Cable, if accepted.” if accepted,’ " repeated tlemaine; “accept what?” “Exactly! What?" said Jack. “Do they want a story? What do ‘ox- penses’ mean? I'm not going to Africa again if I know it.” “It sounds as though the Clarion wanted you for some expedition; it sounds if everybody knew about the expedition except you. Nobody ever Hears ny news at Morteyn,” sald Molly eth dejectedly. “Are you going, Jack?" “Going?| Where?” “Does your telegram throw any Ught on Jack's, Ricky?” asked Sir Thorald. But Rickerl von Elater turned away without answering. When the old Vicomte de Morteyn was well enough to entertain anybody at all, which was not very often, he did it’ skilfully. So when he filled the Cheteau with young people and told them to amuse themselves and ngt bother him, the house party was necessarily a success. He himself sat all day in the sun- shine, studying the week's Paris newspapers with dim, kindly eyes, or pares interminable chess games with is wite on the flower terrace. She was sixtys,he bay i cores: score ten. They steven, strayed far, from each other. It had always beep so from the first, and the firat when Helen Bruce of New York City married Georges Vicomte de Mor- tey That was long ago. ts PEL a Hk the week's budget of newspapers arrived Mme, de Morteyn tntplded a paper dated the 4th of July and found the column and read: “The press of Paris unanimously acouses the Imperial Government of allawing Prim and Bismarck to in- trigue against the interests of France, The French Ambassador, Count Ben- editti, interviewed the King of Prussia at Bms and requested him to prevent Prince Leopold von Hohenzollern’s acopptance of the offer of the Span- ish throne, It is rumored that the King of Prussia declined to inter- fere.’" Madame de Morteyn tossed the journal on to the terrace and opened another, "'On July 12 the Spanish Ambassa- dor to Paris informed the Duc de Gramont, Minister of Foreign Affairs, that the Prince von Hohensollern re- his candidacy to the Spanish “A la bonheur with @ sigh of reliof: Hohenzollern matter, My dear, can you imagine France permitting a German prince to mount the throne of Spain? It was more than a men- Ro you remember Count Bismarck when he was Ambassador to France? He la @ man who fascinates me. How he used to watch the Emperor! I can see hin yet—those puffy, pale eyes! You sew bim also, dear—you remem- ber, at Salnt-Cloud?” the vicomte, hat settles the day, “Yes; I thought bim brusque and malicious.” “I know he is at the bottom of this. I'm glad it is over. Did you finish the telegraphic news?” “Almost all. It sa: Georges Grqmont refuSes to accept from the Spanish Ambassador unless that old Von Werther—the German Ambassador, you know—guarantees that Prince Leopold von Hohenazollern will never again attempt to mount the Spanish throne!’ was a ailence. The old vicomte stirred restlessly. “Sufficient unto the day"—— he sald, at last. They smiled at each other, and she eat down by the window, Suddenly, in the silence of the summer moon, far in the e: a dull in they agains deep everberating like it—again and boom, muttering, eummer thunder, “Why should they fire cannon to- lelen?” asked the old man, querulously. “Why should they fire cannon beyond the Rhine?” ‘It is thunder,” she said gently; “it will storm before long.” “IT am tired,” said the vicomt “Helen, I shall sleep. Sit by me— —no—nearer yet! Are the child: n the cannon cease I shall fall asleep. Listen! What is that?" ‘A blackbird singing in the pear tree.” “And what ts that—that sound o! galloping? Look out and » Helen.” “It is a gendarme riding fast to- ward the Rhine. CHAPTER III. The Farandole. HAT evening Dorothy Marche | stood on the terrace in the moonlight waving her plumed fan and listening to the orchestra from the hamlet of Saint-Lys. The orchestra —two violins, a reed-pipe, a biniou and a harp—were playing away with might and main, Through the bay- window she could see the crystal chandeliers glittering with prismatic light, the slender gilded chairs, tne cabinets and canapes, golden, backed with tapestry; and everywhere massed banks of ferns and lilies. They were dancing in there; she saw Lady Hesketh floating in tho dotermined grip of Cecil Page, she saw Sir Thorald proudly prancing to the air of the farandole; Betty Castlemaine, Jack, Allae, Barbara Lisle passed the window only to repass and pass again in a whirl of gauze and filmy color; and the swish! swish! swish! of silken petticoats, and the rub of little feet on the polished floor grew into a rhythmic, mono- tonous cadence, beating, beating the measure of the farandole, Dorothy waved her fan and looked at Rickerl, standing in the moon light beside her. “Why don't you dance, Ricky?” she asked; “it is your last evening, if you are determined to leave to- morrow.” He turned to her with’ an abrupt gesture; she thought he was going to speak, but be did not, and after @ moment she said: “Do you know what that despatch from the New York Clarion to my brother means?" “Yes,” he sald. His voice was dull, on Week in almost indifferent. “Will you tell me?" “Yes, to-morrow.’ “Te--is it anything dangerous that thi y want him to do?” ea,” ‘Ricky—tell me, then! You fright. on me.” “To-morrow—perhaps to-night.” “Perhaps to-night?” “It I receive another telegram. I expect to.” “Then, if you receive other de- spatch, we shall all know?” Rickerl von Eleter bent his head laid a gloved hand lightly on her a own. "h am very unhappy,” he eaid sim- ply. “May we not speak of other things?” Mporriet” cried her brother as Dorothy entered the house by him, “what do you think? Lorraine de Nesville is coming this evening.!” “Lorraine?” said his sister—‘“dear me, I am dying to eee her.” “Then turn round,” whispered Betty Castlemaine, leaning across from Cectl’e arm, “Ob, Dorrie! what a beauty!” At the same moment the old vi- comte rose from his gilded chair and stepped forward to the threshold, saying, “Lorraine! Lorraine! Then you have come at last, little bad one?” And he kissed her white hands and led her to his wife, murmuring, “Helen, what shall we do with the little bad one who never comes to bid two old people good-day?” “Ah, Lorraine!” said Madame de Morteyn; “kiss me, my child.” There she stood, her cheeks faintly touched with color, her splendid ne? shining like azure@tars, the ca: light setting her heavy aglow till it glistened and burned as moiten ore flashes in rucible. They passed nd her; she saw, through the of yellow light, a sea of B94 faces; a vague mist of lace set wi jewels; and she smiled at them while the color deepened in her cheeks. There was music In here and music in her heart, and 6 was dancing now—dancing with a tall, bronzed young fellow who held her wtrong and safe, and whose eyes con- , Mnually sought her own. “You see," she said, demurely, “that my gowns came to-day from Paris.” “Tt is a dream—this one,” he said, smiling back into her eyes, “but I all never forget the scarlet skirt and little bodice of iss, and the éilver chains, and your Bair"—— y hair? It is still on my head.” “It was tangled across your face— then.’ “Silence, Monsieur Marche!” “And you seem to have grown taller"— “It Is my ball-gown.” “And do you not cast down your eyes and say, ‘Oul, Monsieur,’ ‘Non, Monsieur’ "—— “Non, Monsieur.” Again they laughed, looking into each other's eyes and there was mu- sic in the room and music in_ their hearts. “My father i@ restless; I must re- turn soon,” she sald, hy a little sigh. “I wish you ther. Will you? Hi He speaks to few people except mq Have you heard that my father has made a balloon?” “Yes—everybody speaks of it,” he answered, gravely. is the wonderful “Bul this part!—he 5 mas a balloon that can be inflated In seconds! Think! All other balloons require a long, long while, and many tubes; and one must take them to a usine de gaz, My father's balloon needs no gas—that it needs no common illuminating montgolfier?” asked Marche, ously. h, pooh! The idea! No, it ts like other balloons, except that—well— there is needed merely @ handful of silvery dust—to which you touch @ drop of water—piff! puff! o’ est fint! The balloon is filled,” “And what is this silvery dust?” he asked, laughing. “Voila! Do you not wish you knew? I—Lorraine de Nesville—I know! It is a secret. If the time ever should come—in case of war, for instance, my father will give the secret to France—-freely—without recompense —a secret that all the nations of Eu- rope could not buy! Now, don't you wish you knew, Monsieur?” “And you know?" “y "she said, with a tantalizing toss of her head. “Then you'd better look out,” he laughed; “if European nations get wind of this they might kidnap you. “They know it already,” sho sa seriously. “Austria, Spain, Portugal and Russia have sent agents to my father—as though he bought and sold the welfare of his country!” “And that map: morning—do you might have been hanging about after that sort of thing—trying to pry and pick up some acrap of information?" “I don't know," she sald, quietly; “IT only saw him making maps. TAsten! there are two secrets that my father possesses, and they are both in writing, I do not know where he keeps them, but I know what they are. Shall I tell you? Then listen—I shall whisper. One ia the chemical formula for the silvery dust, the gas of which n fill a balloon tn five seconds. The ether ts—you will be astonished—the plan for @ navigab! balloon!" “Has he tried it?” “A dozen times. f went up twice, It steers ke a ship.” + Are You Going Away for Vacation? When you go out of town for vacation you may find it is difficult and costly to provide yourself with the right sort of reading matter. Why send to the city for novels at $1.25 or $1.50 each or buy them at a fancy price in some country store? You can supply yourself with reading for six cents a week. the best, most delightful summer By subscribing to The Evening World for the rest of the summer you will secure a complete novel each week. Not some old book a country dealer has not been able to sell, but the finest up-to-date fiction by the foremost living authors, Bear this in mind, not only for yourself but for any of your friends who expect to spend their vacations in the country. aay: The Evening , the long ha @ Worl WAR Romance DOODOODOHGOGOODOHOODDOHOGDOQHHOODHOGOGS “Do people know this, too?” ‘Ger: does. Once we sailed, papa and I, up over our forest ‘and acroas t! ‘ountry to the frontier. We were not very high; wé could see the soldiers at the custom house, and they saw us, and—would you beli it?they fired their hor- tid guns at us—pop! pop! pop! But We wore too quick; we simply sailed back again against the very eir-gure that brought us. bullet made a hole in the ailk, but we didn’t come down. Papa says @ dosen bul- cannot bring a balloon down, even whon they pierce the ailk, be- cause the air-preasure is great enough to keep the gas in. But he says that if they fire a shell, that is what is to be dreaded, for the gas, once aflame! —that enda all. Dear me! we talk a great deal of war—you and I. It is time for me to go.” A deep boom, in as BU thunder, shook echoes ‘awake among the shrouded hilis, rolling, reverberating, fesounding, until the echoes ais it on from valley to valley, off into the world of shadows, The utter silence that followed was broken by a call, tid ot hoofs on the gravel drive, the clink of stir- Tups, the snorting of hard-run horses, mebody cried, “A telegram for you, Ricky!" There was a patter of feet on the terrace, @ chorus of ‘hat is it, Ricky?” “Must “Whatever is the young German soldier, turned’ to the circle Of tampiit ‘rance and Germany—I—I"—— “What? cried Sir orald, vio- ly, War was declared at noon to- ave & gasp and reached out one hand. Jack Marche took it in both of his, They moved away from the rest, near where the horses were standing. “My telegram from the New York Clarion!” he said. “They want me for war correspondent. I was the Clarion’s correspondent at Sadowa and in Oran.” Lorraine trembled violently; @ wolf howled on the distant “I shall lop to the Chateau de ged with you,” he said; “I shall el carriage-win Mademoiselle d¢ Nesville.” ‘The report of a gun, faint but clear, flusled trom, the ated windows of m ti lows 0! the Chateau de Nesv: ther fast broke out—another—then three dull reports sounded, and the night wind spread the echoes broadcast among the wooded hills. For @ second she stood beside him, white, rigid, speechless; then her lit- tle hand crushed his arm and she ushed him violently toward the orses. “Mount!” she cried; “ride! ride!” Scarcely conscious of what he did, he backed one of the horses, seized the gathered bridle and mane, and flung himself astride. The horse reared, backed again, and stood stamping. At the same instant he ‘ung about in bis saddle and cried, tu back to the houge!”* But she was already in the saddle, guiding the other herse, ber asillk skirts crushed, her hair flying, saw! the bridie-bit with gloved finge: The wind lifted the cloak on her shoulders, ber little satin allpper stirrup. @ gasped, and lashed her horses staggered an instagt, that wae all, except a gasp from the girl, bend- ing with whitened cheeks close to her horse's mane, “Look out! A Jantern!—olose ahead!” panted Marche, The sharp crack of a revolver cut him short, his horse leaped forward, the blood spurting from hfs neck. “Are you hit?” he eried. “Yes, it ia nothing! Rid In the darkness and confusion of the plunging horses he managed to lean over to her where she bent in her saddle; and, on one white, round shoulder, he saw the crimson welt of @ bullet, from which the blood was Welling up out of the satin skin, And now, in the gloom, the park wall loomed up along the river, and he shouted for the lodge-keeper, ris- Ing in his stirrups: but the tron’ ga swung wide, and the broad, empty avenue stretched up to the Chateau. They galloped up to the door; } slipped from his horse, swung raine to the ground, and sprang up the low atopa. The door was open, 1 brilliantly lighted, * “It is g—Lorraine!” cried the girl. A tall, Bearded man burst in fron o room on the left, clutching @ fowlin¢- piece, “Lorraine! They've got the bos! The balloon secret wae in it!” i.e groaned; “they are in the house yet’ ~—~ He stared wildly at Marche, then at his daughter. His face was dis- colored with bruises, bis thick, blond hair fell in cisorder acrosp ateel-blue eyes that gleamed with fury. Almost at the same moment thore came a crash of glass, a heavy fall from the porch, and then @ shot, In an {natant Marche wag at tno door; he saw a gamekeeper raise his gun and alm at him, and he shrank back as the report roared in his ears, “You fool!” he shouted; “dont shoot at me! drop your gun and follow!" He jumped to the ground and started across the garden whera a dark figure was clutching the wall and trying to climb to the top. He was too late—the man was over; out he followed, jumped, caught the tiled top and hurled himself headlong into the bushes below. Close to him a man started from the thicket, and ran down the wet road- splash! splash! slop! slop! through the puddles; but Marche caught him and dragged him down into the mu where they re ed and = = struck he man tore away and struggled to his feet, and twice Marche fastened to his knees until the huge, lumbei ing body swayed and fell again Tt might have gone hard with Jack, for the man suddenly dropped the steel box he was clutching to his breast and fell upon the young fellow with a sullen roar, His knotted, wiry fin- gers had already found Ji throat; he lifted the young fellow's head and strove to break hia neck. Then, in a flash, he leaped back and lifted a heavy stone from the wall; at the same in- stant somebody fired at him from the Augiet 127, 1914 : wheeled and sprang into the woods. ‘That was all Jack Marche knew until Cee ral father, a ish, dishevelled, ‘aise him! knew was Loaeeanee, They lifted Jack to Ris knees; be stumbled to his fest torn, bloody, Aithy with mud, but bis arms, pieened tight, was the steel box, “Loreaine!—my box!—look” cried her father, and the lantern shook in his bands as he clutehed the casket. But Lorraine stepped forward and flung both arms around Jack Marche's neck. Her face was deadly pale; the bloed 00! from the wounded shoulder, For the firat time her father saw that she had been shot. He si at her, clutching the steel box in his ner- vous With strength she had left she c ik to her and kissed ‘im. ‘k with the loss of abe leaned on her father. “T a i to ry hisp- ored; help me, father? CHAPTER IV. Trains East and West. iT was dawn when Jack Marche galloped into the courtyard of the Chateau U Morteyn and: wearily dis- mounted. He went straight to his cham er, tore off hip clothes, took # hast; plunge in a cold tub, and rubbed his aching limbs until they glowed. Then he dressed rapidly, donned big riding believe it, 1 ah and see for myself. within the tweive bouts, May | over to tell V you abor ut these my} I return? After dinner he played chess his uncle until his eba! wf man fell the old There was gn ii “Jack,” sald bis dear, good boy, Tel our little Lorraipe? The breeches and boots, slipped & re- her taded valver into hie pecket and went down. stairg, where he could already hear the others at breakfast. Very quietly and modestly he told gna his story between @ips of cafe «*- lal “You eee,” he ended, “that the cou...y is full of spies, who hesitate at nothing. There were three or four of them who tried to rob the Cha- teau; thc seem perfectly posseracd to get at the secrets of the Marquis de Nesville’s balloons, There is 10 doubt but that for months past ther have been making mage of the who @ h region in most minute detail; thay have evidently been expecting this war for @ long time, Incidentally, now that war is declared, they bays opened hostilities on their own a count.” It was decided that the otaar pues roti ete at once; Jave alone remaining. During ¢! it two weeks be rode dally t RY Chateau de Neeviis to sea Lorraine, There had been little stir ‘or ex- citement in Morteyn. Even in Saint- Lys, where all day and all night the troop-trains rushed by, the cheers of the war-bound soldiers | from the flying cars were becoming onous in the ears of the sober Jagers. When the long, fat he peo q canvas-covered, tilted sky’ ‘They stared, too, at the peeres care past in interminable tr with horses and prryee: t hi een roopers who es ews b+ aiats and shouted the street. ‘There might be war somewhere; it would never come to Saint-Lys, There might be death, yonder to- wards the Rhine probably beyo! it, far beyond it. What of it? Death comes to all, but comes @l A io Saint-Lys; and the days are long, and one must eat to live, ere is much to be done between the ris- ing and the setting of @ peasant’s sun, One afternoon Lorraine sald to Jac “The man who made mape—the man whom you struck, in the carre- four—is the same man who ran away wie on tenet tail, aquare- “That spy . ° shouldered fellow with the pink skim and little, p pinkish eyes” “His name ts Von Steyr—Siurd voo Steyr. It was written in pencil op the back of one map, The morning after the ult on the house, when they thought I was fil tn bed, I got p and dressed and went down to nine the road where you caught man and saved my father’s little et box. There I found a atri torn from your evening coat, and—oh, Monsieur Marche!—I found the great, flat stone with which he crush you, just as my from the wall “Go on." “There is not much more to tell she said at last, in @ voice that seemed not quite under control. “I followed the broken bushes and his ©! footmarks along the river until came to a stone where I think he sat down, He was bleeding, too—my father shot him—and he tore bite of aper and cloth to cover the wound— foe ven. tore Up another map. found part of it, with bis name on the back again—not all of It, though, but enough, Here It is.” She handed him a_bit of paper. On one side were the fragmenta of a map in water-color; on the other, written in German script, he read: “Siurd von Steyr.” ee © © © @© 2 On the first day of August late in the afternoon, a peasant driving an exhausted horse pulled up at the Chateau Morteyn, where Jack Mare! stood on the terrace, smokin, cutting at the leaves with his crop. Passerat?™ “are the matter, good-humouredly; sin the valley?" “Monsieur—C saw chased me—the spears and devilish yellow horses.” at same morning, Lorraine had announced her decision that Jack might accept the position of special, or rather ocasional, war correspondent for the New York Clarion if he would promise not to remain absent for more than a day at a time. This, Jack thought, prectically nullified the con- sent, for what in the world could @ man see of the campaign under auch circumstances? Stil, he did not ob- ject; he was too happy. “However,” he thought, “I might OQOOG™ ®QOQWBO®ODIDHOO®BWO® OOODOGHEG. A Farce-Romance of the ‘Big Outdoors; Alive With Laughter, Thrills and Action niente VOODOO DOOLEDOOGPOHGOGOGOGHGHOOVOODOOOHS By Rex Beach tried to & y wish,” Meoizemiber ik on the ter: erthodox e: Bei ti sien sroom told you, Aunt "Yes. Ji ent ee these French “BulnT vw ‘note groom - it passed, . » on gh < tthe, \ mui al SE dim. ‘Wood sparrows zee =e ae mn Se the shadowy portale ef the Wen orte, 0 x en oom. s00n ‘. ac! dentate the eigen veuey broke fi t in the shad estes secon el At the instant da to the led: vive blue-; sored In the shrill volce er he ae draw Lage le eted cavalrymen were atirrup, carbine en curiously into hie face, active light-bay horses close 10 "Fact laughed. good hymaredy sag jacks ta 1 fumbled in the breast of his Jacket for his papers. ‘T'm only a tal,” he @ papers not, ‘va onty to salen, the Chateau ‘Mortayn te Aa officer with a of arabesques on either @ nervous horse thro a ad Jently in endl ished he removed lps, looked eagerty at Jack “Jack Marche!” pt a startied. iy en he lool more age 4 at youne omoer batore hisne whe wan” aul ing in his 8, ‘ “Well, upon my wo! No—tt can't be little Georges Carriere?” : “Yes, it can!" cried the briskly; “none of your airs, Babrece a my ae Mad, ‘ “My son, I won' jack, lean. eo Geor, me wi “Oh, shut up!” sald Geor; a him an impetuous hug. you, up to Feo mere war ondence? For the same old Clarion? Rom d'une pipe! It's cooler than In ‘Oran, Preu be hotter, another way,” with a gay "a toward the valley below. RAI In the valley the va: were Ing: behind the curtain of “ mist the landscape by hilly, treeless, cut by wind! v rank on rank of spare are. Ware ther away clumps of and little hillocks, and now, air cleared, the spire of a cl Ficomersd, Rasciacy id a ee, silver cut the ape retreating fog. The Saar! “Where are the Prussians?” asked Jack, breaking the ellence. Georges latd his gloved hand es Bie compantion’s arm. “Do you see that epi Saarbruck. They are there.” “This side of the Rhine, too?” “Yes,” said Georges, little; “walt, my friend.” (To Be Continued.)