The evening world. Newspaper, July 9, 1915, Page 11

so Author of “SEVEN DAYS, TRIE T t, 1016, by Mary Roberts Rinehart.) OPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS, Kistuton is the leader of « gang of daring fillant crooks, whose thefls have won them wealth and whose leader's genius has them from detection, Hilary lives in @ suburb, with bie only daughter, Elinor, atheist and in Roreday, another of the gang, a fétherly affection for her and exerts a eort hip over the lonely @i Wi rector of @ local church, inor a ta st intance with hot jealousy, Hilary is acel- ly killed in a bank robbery the gang bar . His share in the robbery is not sas jy the police, Elinor lives om at the Kings: house with her old oume, Henriette, Boroday on suspicion, In the absence of this spirit of the gang Hoff burns down Ward's knowing « large collection will be rebuilding and hoping to steal the Elinor has forbidden Huff to commit ‘Act of sacrilege, and she is furious at him for Learning that Huff plane to rob the clergyman on the tele CHAPTER X. (Continued,) ELLA, hello!" came quick response, No need to ask who it was. She knew every in- flection of his voice. is is—a friend,” Elinor panted, want to, tell you something.” {¥es?" Very incisive now. ‘To-night — very soon—an at- She stopped. What was she doing? he, her father’s daughter, the Sead the band! By warning Ward might be sending Walter to his th. A vision of old Hilary, gray- d, keen-eyed, at this very tele- phone, flashed into her mind, old , Whose religion had been of téeping the faith, not with his God, ut With his men. “Who are you?” the impatient voice fas.saying in her ears. “Are you ire you want me? This is Ward of » dude’ Elinor quietly hung up the tele- Mine transmitter, and stood in the ‘ness, her hands to her throat. Old Henriette, ever watchful, came lato the Nbrary beyond. Elinor could ar her wandering about, knew the pment when she discovered her rap on a chair, heard her plaintive qice speaking through a window to bw empty terrace. “Miss Elinor!” she called. piinor: Elinor let her go, When her shuf- ing footsteps had died away, Elinor ook the receiver down again and fied the assistant rector's house, ut this time she spoke directly into ‘the transmitter. | “This is Elinor Kingston, Mr. Ward. wotider if you are very tired to- might?" “1? Tired? I'm never tired.” “Because I am thinking of asking jou to come up. I—there are some hings I want to talk about, questions that are troubling me. I know It is late, but"—— I saw you at the early service, Of ourse I'll come up.” Ho had seen her then! “Pil.do my best,” he was saying. "Of course, you know I may disap- Jot you. These questions, that come from within, must be answered in the e way. But I'm coming at once.” battle was only half fought, ‘Let him meet Walter on the way. much the better. Let Huff know that ‘Ward was out, and the offering pr umably unguarded, Ho might hai the, man, but no hope of a running fight with him would deter him from hig main object, the money. To save Ward she was willing, even anxious, to let Walter succeed. Women sometimes meet large crises ‘with small vanities, But Elinor had no vanity. Without so much as a glance at the mirror she went out into the garden to listen for Ward's step on the road. She knew his walk already; the forceful, certain step of an energetic and purposeful man, The illuminated dial on the steeple of the Baptist Church showed some- thing after ten when Ward finally Giitie Up the hill, The relief of seeing him, unharmed sent Elinor down the terrace steps with both hands out. Before he could take them, Ward Way obliged to stoop and deposit on the ground at her feet a small box that he carried. «The morning collection,” he sald wmiiing, and took her hands in his, “Her quick alarm showed in her face. “Rut you are reckless! To go about fulh so much money”— Ward was following her up the ate, dare say it is safer with me than my place clse in the world, Did any one ever hear of an ausistant rector going about with @ fortune in his bana?” He followed her into the library and —o ‘he Girl Who Had No God SLLQOSRIELEE A. Romance of Treasure, ‘‘Conscience’’ and Love By Mary ROBERTS RINEHART “THE MAN IN LOWER TEN," Ete, RM AA RRA R II ARORA RAAT " The Newest SWEETHEART PRIMEVAL _ === The Creator of the “TARZAN” Stories Is at DOSS: placed the box on the great table where old Hilary had been wont to divide the annual earnings of the band. Ward Pointed to it with his humorous smile. “Would any one suspect,” he sald, “that in that box there is a stone par- ish-house, a new church organ and @ » children’s playground?” ‘Then, glancing at her with his keen eyes, he was struck by her pallor, “You to ask me if I am tired!” he cried. “Why you poor child, it is you who are worn out. Wouldn't it be bet- ter to have me come to-morrow and go over the things you—spoke about?” “I think we had better talk about them now,” said Elinor, desperately calm. At @ quarter before 11 that funday night, old Henriette, bent on her even- ing task of sending Elinor to bed, wandered into the library. She found Ward, his earnest face glowing, ex- pounding the ienets of bis faith from the edge of his chair; and Elinor lying back with her face drawn, watching the clock on the mantel. Old Henriette, astounded, withdrew, not to sleep, but with the wakeful alertness of old age, to wander up and down the garden paths until such time as Elinor’s visitor might leave. Ward suddenly realized that he was making small headway. When at last he caught Elinor’s eyes on the clock he flushed and rose. “I've done it all very badly,” he said. “I seem to wander all about and not get anywhere, You see it’s all so real to me”—— Elinor had leaned back with closed eyes. all very terrible to me,” she re- plied. “This God of vengeance"—— “This God of tenderness and mer- cy," Ward supplemented, “Don't you see what it all means? How terrible this life would be if this were all! Our little lives, full of jealousies and hatreds and crimes: I bringing that box, over there on the table, up here with me to-night, because I dare not trust it to my fellow-men; I who could not sleep last night for think- ing of you, who are all that is good and sweet and tender, up here alone in this great house, with God knows what danger lurking about.” Elinor had reached her fimit. The band of her self-control snapped. She could not hold him much longer, and before he went he must know. “When I sent for you,” she said, “T had two reasons. I wanted to see you. Please!” As he took a step toward her. “And I wanted to save you from something that I knew of.” Something in her thinly drawn voice was familiar, “1 seo,” Ward said slowly, “It was you who telephoned me and then rang off.” “When you say that Iam good and tender,” Elinor went on, “you shame me. I am all that is bad and wicked. Everything. You were to have been robbed to-night. I brought you here under false pretenses.” Ward was as white as she, His figure straightened. “Then all the time that I have been telling you"——— “I did not hear, time.” Personal fear Ward had none I was watohing the He did not even follow Elinor’s eyes as they glanced once more at the clock. Mrs, Bryant's venomous insinuations came back to him, all the village talk of the girl's strange rearing. Fearful thoughts flashed into his mind, to be dismissed, shaken off doggedly. “I shall never believe anythingthat you do not tell me yourself. But it is only fair to me that now at last there be frankness between us. “There are others, with dry lips. Elinor said, “Your father?” — “Ho is dead. I cannot talk of him. ‘This much I can tei you. The Parish House was burned deliberately; it was planned and carefully carried out.” “And you knew?" “1 had forbidden rt.” “You had forbidden it?” He went to her and caught her by the shoulders, forcing her to look up into his face. “You? Then all this time that you have seen what you must have seen in my eyes you have been"— “At the head of a band of thieves,” Elinor said slowly. ‘Ward released her, and turning took a slow survey at the room. “Then I suppose this is a trap?” he eaid, “It is not a trap.” Her volce was 4. “I opposed this—this plan from the start. That is the reason one of the men—of my friends—suspected that I°"— , "Go on. What aid he suspect?” “That I—but that doesn’t matter. He burned the Parish House and Planned all this. To-night he meant to get the money from you, and I— ‘was desperate. I could think of no other way.” ‘Ward's faith in her was slow to die. He took a step toward her, his hands out, then dropped them at his sides. “Then—the night the Parish House burned, when I came down In the dawn and found you sitting there’ he clenched his hands—“‘all the time you knew. You knew! And I had thought"—— He went to the table and, opening the box, slipped the notes and money it contained into his pocket. Then he buttoned his coat about him. Elinor watched him etonily. “You are going down the Ml?” “IT am going home.” He did not even look at her, “If you would only go some place, else,” she said pitifully. “To the club or to Mrs, Bryant's, Please be- Neve me, Whatever I am, and I have told you the worst, I am try- ing to think of you to-night, not of myeelf.” “I am going back to my house,” said the assistant rector of Saint Jude's, He got as far as the door on to the terrace and there he turned. It was as if he dared not look at her, as if he meant to carry away with him some tenderer mem- ory than of this white-lipped, guilty ‘woman before him. “If I seem hard,” he eaid unstead- ily, “it 1s because I am suffering. You are quite safe, of course, [ shall not go to the police.” Had he cared less he would have been more merciful. Old Henriette watched his figure as he went down the garden steps and into the road, “Strange things in this house!” she mumbled, shaking her head, “Preach- era coming and going at all bours, and Elinor in a church this morning. Strange things, Hilary Kingston, since you went away.” She shuffled along the terrace and into the houne, her thin black shawl drawn about her shoulders. In the Ubrary Elinor lay face down on the floor, Old Henriette bent over her. “My lamb, my pet," she soothed her. ‘He's a fine man, but there ara many others. And when one Is young and lovely”—— Since Elinor made no response but only moaned, old Henriette rose from her knees and shuffled out of the room, but cautiously, as she passed, she took from a table drawer old Hilary's revolver and carried it out under ber shawl. She was very wise, was wrinkled Henriette, and she knew the Kingston blood, Ward came down the road rapidly. ‘There was a faint moon. One part of his mind had ceased to work; his higher faculties were dormant with misery, with the anesthesia that comes for @ time after great grief or shock, Physically he was entirely alert; his keen eves searched each clump of shrubbery before he reached it. Not that he feared attack for Himeelf; his cup of life was bitter to hia taste that night, but he carried a trust in his pockets, and that he would deliver, Huff was waiting at the foot of the Kingston place, crouched behind a wall, If the boy had been jealous be- fore, he was thaddened now. Ward had been with Elinor. Huff, coming up the hill had heard his short good- night to Henriette in the garden, had heard him come down the hill, There were only two explanations. Either the man was in love with her and had gone up that ni_ht of his own volition, or Elinor had sent for him. One was as bad as the other. ‘Ward did not have a chance. As he came abreast of the wall, the boy fired and he pitched forward 6n his face. With the re-echoing of the shot among the hills, Huff's madness died away. Murder was not his game; vio-~ lent and sudden death perhaps, but never, before, @ shot from behind. Had the wealth of the city been in ‘Ward's pockets, could not have touched it. He thrust his revolver into his poc- and breaking a way through the shrubbery commenced a swift but noiseless ascent of the hill. The assistant rector of Saint Jude's Jay on his face in the road, with the morning offering of his congregation safe in his pockets. CHAPTER XI. HE Chief sent for Boroday early the next morning. “You've turned the trick all right,” he sald, grimly emiling. Boroday, as immaculate as ever, eottied his tie. “Yes?” “git down,” said the Chief. “Now that you know you're going, I sup- pose you're not in any particular hurry.” Boroday ran his hand over his silky beard. “] should like to get to @ barber.” “There is no great hurry. Now,” said the Chief, when Boroday was comfortably settled and smoking one of his eternal Russian cigarettes. “I wish you would tell me why you dis- posed of that pearl the way you did. It wasn’t quite up to our agreement, you know. It was to be given to me and I was to return it. Instead of that I had to make a wild goose chase out into the country.” “Ah!” sald Boroday, “into the coun- try!” The Chief, who was accustomed to reading faces, watched Boroday closely. But if there was a tightening about the Russian’s eyes it was very faint. “You know blamed well,” said the Chief peevishly, “just where I had to go to get that thing. And you know blamed well also that on Sunday afternoon I always play poker. It was—well, inconsiderate, to say the least.” Boroday smiled. “I am exceedingly sorry that you were put to any trouble about it,” he said, “But as you may understand, I have not yet seen my—friends, and of course”—— He shrugged his shoulders. The Chief was sceptical of his ignorance, nevertheless. He humored what he chose to consider Boroday’s whim. First he gave him the note which he had received by special delivery the day before, Quick as he was, the Russian could not quite conceal his astonishment. “In the alms-box!" said the Chief. “Somebody with a sense of humor had charge of this little affair. Bry- ant is senior warden, it seems, in this church. It was cleve: Boroday passed the letter back to him. “I shall tell my confreres. quite original.” The Chief was smoking a large cigar. Unlike the police chief of fic- tion and the drama, he did not speak around the cigar, but carefully re- It is ar Moved It, not out of respect to his visitor, but out of deference to a good cigar. Now he leaned toward Boroda: “Eithe: he said slowly, “it was clever, or it was necessary.” But the Russian had himself well in hand. He only smiled. “It has occurred to me,” the Chief went on, “that that little town has been pretty busy lately. There was that matter of the country club, you know, and last Thursday night the panish-house burned down.” “Yes,” said Boroday politely. “And now something else has hap- pened and”—— suddenly the Chief beat his desk with hie first—"I am Pretty sick of it.” Under perfect control as he was at critical moments, the Russian’s hands had a way of twitching. So now he flicked the ash from his cigarette and was politely interested. “What happened last night?” he in- quired. . “I think you know. If you don't, Tu tell you. Yesterday morning a tremendous collection was taken up at the church of St. Jude's to build & new parish-house In place of the one that burned down. The rector has been away; the assiotant rector took charge of the money.” “I wee.” “Of course you see. What I would lke to know is why you fellowa"—— Boroday spread out his hands In his foreign way. “I fear you give me great credit. I do not deserve it.” “Why you fellows,” the Chief went on resolutely, “waited to do this job until rector, who is old and In- firm, had gone away and left a husky young assistant in his place? And that isn’t all I want to krow.” “In any way that I can assist YOu" —— “What the devil do you mean,” yelled the chief, “by shooting a man down and then going away and leav- ing the money in his pockets? It's— it's crude—it’s wasteful!” The Russ!an's fingers twitched in spite of him. The Chief saw it and smiled under his heavy mustache. “Do you mean that somebody shot thie—er—assistant you speak of? That is rather sad. Was there— much money?" “Seventy-eight thousand dollars,” said the Chief, and put his cigar back in his mouth. “There is a story be- hind it, Boroday, and it’s that story Lam going to get. I'm warning you because you've played pretty equare with me, I needed that pearl in my business.” Boroday rose. “All right, Chief,” he said. “I am eorry about young Ward. I hope he wasn’t killed.” “He wasn't killed,” replied the Chief. “And I haven't said his name was Ward. If you haven't had your breakfast yet we might breakfast to- gether. I oversiept and en't had time for anythin, Ward came back to consciousness in the great four-poster bedstead in which old Hilary Kingston had lain in atate. He felt very little pain and no curiosity at all as to bis sur- roundin, only an overwhelm: laseitude and weariness of life, Something—something that mattered very much had gone out of his ex- istence, He could not remember what it was, There was a uniformed nurse by the bed. He had a curious antipathy to asking her anything. He had made a promiae of secrecy to some one—about what? Toward evening he had managed to evolve out of his reviving conscious- ness some faint memory of what had happened to him. He remembered thet he was walking down a bill, and that he had fallen forward. For quite @ half-hour, Jate in the afternoon, he struggled to remember why he had gone down the hill, Then he got it. He had been up at the Hall to eee Elinor. It was Elinor who had gone out of his life. Elinor! Elinor! ’ He slept very little during the The Evening World Daily Magazine, Friday. July 9. 4|A COMPLETE NOVEL EACH WEEK IN THE EVENING WORLD night, and hia fever rose he called the nurse linor,” and begged her frantically to tell him that something was not truco, “Of course it Is not true,” said the nurse, who was accustomed to being called various things, “You did not mean ft at allt Ho eyed her wistfully, The nurse was Jarge and plain, with a wide, flat face, “You, with the eyes of a saint,” sald poor Ward, “to try to tell me that you are wicked. 1 see that it is im- Possible, I think I can sleep now.’ The nurse put her hand, which waa jarge and ill-shaped but very light and tender, on hie head. And ao he went to sleep. When he was quite settled the nurse wont out into the hall, where Elinor waa sitting on a straight chair. She had sat there almost all of the time since Ward was carried up the night defore, “He ts sound asleep,” she said smil- ingly. “He thinks I am some one named ‘Elinor,’ and he calls me that. A® my own name is Sarah, it’s rather pleasant.” Ward had been shot on Sunday night. By the following Wednesday he was out of danger. On that same Wednesday the rector of St. Jude's brought himseif and his rheumatism back to his parish, and saved his daughter's reason. For three days Elinor had hardly slept or eaten. Never once had she been in Ward's room, but always, day and night, she was just outside, When on that Wednesday evening the doc- tor sald Ward would live, she went down once more into her garden, Many times during those three days had Elinor tried to vray to Ward's God and found herself votccless and inarticulate, But now, out of the depth of her great relief, came welling the first prayer of her life. She stood waist-deep among her phlox and larkspur. “I thank Thee,” she said. “I thank Thee.” * * © Nothing had been heard of Huff. ‘The assault on the assistant rector of Bt. Jude's had been of a lino with the other mysterious happenings around the village. The little town was hag- ridden with fear. Extra constables had been sworn in, and from the Hall, during her long night vigils, Elinor had seen many lighted windows where before there had been but the one. The problem of her future began to obsess her. It was plainly impossible to stay on here—not that she feared exposure; she was quite past fear— but the thought of going on with her life was intolerable. To meet Ward, to see again the scorn and loathing in his eyes, more than all, to continue to deserve them—those were the things that to “linor seemed worse than death itself. All the philosophy that old Hilary had taught her failed her now, The revolt of the individual against laws made for the masses—what had it brought her but isolation and grief? Of what use was revolt? All must go through the mills of the gods Sho knew that now. There were no ¢x- ceptions, And something she had learned; that if one is to live through @reat crises one must have a higher power to turn to for help. She had felt it vaguely at the time of her father's death. Sitting outside Ward's door she had known it. Every breath had been a prayer to something, sho knew not what, to save him. “I thank Thee,” she said again. The phiox and larkspur quivered about her as if under the touch of # gentle hand. Boroday had been free for three days, but beyond a telephone message announcing his release she had heard nothing of him, Over the wire he had advised extreme caution, Bhe judged from that that things were not going well. She knew that Huff's reckless crime would demand @ scapegoat. There were bound to be arrests. All this Elinor knew quite well. It was in such an atmospnere that she had aye 1915 ena seed —. «9 Sweetheart Primeval — By EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS _ Author of “TARZAN OF THE APES,” Rte. drawn her earliest breathe—the play of cunning against cunning, wit against wit. Sho did not send for Boroday. Sho dared not. But because the. intimacy between her and the middle-aged Rus- sian had always been very close, he seemed to feel her need. And so on that Wednesday night, an hour or so after midnight, he came. Old Henriette came down and tapped softly at Elinor's door. “Boroday,” she whispered. rung from the arbor.” That was one of old Hilary's de- vices—a hidden wire from the arbor to the house. It prevented collisions. Unless otherwise summoned, no mem- ber of his band ever camo directly to the house. Biinor went out and found him there, He bent over her hand and kissed {t, a9 waa his custom, and then, realising that she was crying, he held out his arms and she went into them. Very tender was the Russian with her that night, very fatherly. He put her into ono of the arbor seats and sat down beside her. “Now tell me," he commanded, “everything from the start. It was Walter, I know. but why?" ‘When she did not speak the Rus- wian nodded. “Jealousy, of course, hut what mad- ness!" There in the arbor, with her hand between two of his, Elinor sobbed out the story of the pearl and her at- tempt to return it, Huff's threat against Ward, Ward's evening visit, and the scene between them; and, last of all, the shot that had nearly ended everything in this world for Ward and for her, Boroday listened quietly; better than old Hilary ever could, he understood, He had been reared on an anctent faith. “He is recovering?” “Yes.” “And he cares for you, of course?” “No, I think, perhaps, before he knew" —— “Bah!” said the Russian, and rose, “What sort of love is that which changes? I have acen the man, If he cared at all, he atill cares,” Ho stepped to the door of the arbor and drew a long breath. Over on the next hill, sleeping through all this turmoil, lay old Hilary. Under these same stars Huff fied the law, Ward tossed on his bed, Elinor sat despair- ing and ashamed. What did it all mean? What was the answer? Perhaps, had he known it, olf Hen- riette could have told him—Henriette, who had begun to measure her days from the end and not from the be- ginning, and who now eat on the edge of her bed mumbling. Between her fingers she ran the beads of an old rosary which she had found be- neath a@ carpet, “I had thought,” said Elinor, wist- fully, “that if I could get away some- where and etart all over again per- haps some day I might be good— lke other women. I can never go back to things as they were before.” “No,” said the Russian, “I can eee that. But make no mistake, You are good as few are good.” “I could sell the house and—and I do not want the jewels, If only you and the others would divide them.” But Boroday would not hear of this To @ certain extent he was reconciled to her going away. Things were closing in on the band. Before long they would probably all have to separate, It were better that Elinor be in safety, So for a little time they discussed ways and means, available money, the question of a home for old Hen- “He has .” Elinor said, “T feel as though I am deserting him.” Bhe glanced toward the graveyard where old Hilary slept. “But all I \HOoW TO Do moréYaan you are définitely expected to do, The surest way to convince the boss that you should ibe paid more money pan eu are getting is to show him that you are EARNING more, ECURE PROMOTION A New EVENING WORLD SUCCESS MOVIE, we we Copyright. 1010, trees Twbllahing Ce (NV Livening Wertd) ‘Be faithful to your employer's and Stranges things. Big responsibility is given only to young men who have eared their employers’ confidence by prove ing trustworthy in matters of lesser importance. Story by interests in smatt Do not rest content with having mastered only the requirements of your present job. By thought and stud: pela your capacity for understanding every detail of your employer's business within your reach, —— Ilustrat —_ wite JOHNSTONE Mlustrating the RULES of the “ROAD TO SUCC position, Become a vacancy occurs it; the man with ‘Study the work of the men next afove you in og are then the man in tine to fill formance of those duties; wt familiar with their duties, “When knowledge necessary to the per+ By Hazen Conklin Show By your attitude toward your work thiat yu) are interested not only in your own success, bul in your employer's also, “He recruits his lieutenants from among men who will help “boost his ‘morrow, “How to Secura Independence.” game." —To- EC WRAAARR IN NAMA RANA BAIR R RR IMIR # Talbot, an interesting fellow. can think of now is to get away, forget everything.” “When will they be able to meve Mr. Ward?” “In a week, I should think.” “Then, in a week,” said “where do you think of going, Elinor. “It had hardly got so far. Amy- where but here.” “We shall have to plan for you.” He picked up his soft hat end Elinor rose, “Good night, Elinor.” “Good night. I am always happier for having seen you.” He watched her back to the house, then went down the steps inte the road. There had been @ dinner at the Country Club that night. The Chief had attended it, unknown to hostess and guests, to the extent of sitting in the grill room during the evening and carefully watching the mem Who came and went. He had dined quite alone in the gril, From where he wat he could see the dinner guests on the veranda, There were Noticeably few jewels to be seen. Over his chop and lager beer the Chief smiled grimly, After that he shook dice for a short time with a young Englishman named From him the Chief got the club view of the Jewel robbery, been coming to us for a long said Talbot, shaking the dicz. “Long ago I advised some of the wom- en who had famous pearis te have copies made and keep the originals in their banks, but they disliked the idea of wearing imitations.” nee.” ‘hen @ woman isn’t satisfied to have a string of pearls; she must have it announced tn all the papers, Of course crooks all over the country read about them, and naturally their fingers itch.” “ said the Chief; “that “IT understan the Bryant pearl has been recovered.” “Yes, and good work on the part of the force,” was Talbot's comment. If the Chief smiled under ‘hia heavy mustache, if there was the faintest Possible twinkle in Talbot's eyes, who was there to see? Talbot took the Chief down te the station in his gray machine. They Rad chatted very pleasantly. But just ep- posite the steps from Elinor’s garéen they blew out a tire. The car swerved, suddenly threw- ing the light from the Iamps aleag the bank. Standing in the shadows, Boroday, ‘ Talbot brought the car te a step and jumped out, The Russian Red gone on down the bill. “Awfully sorry,” eaid Talbot. “Looks as if you'd have to walk éowa. Perhaps you will Gnd another ear te the Chief, eyes ahead im the darkness. “Whose place is thie? Talbot glanced up and around “I'm afraid I don't knew anything about the village.” He opened the tec! box. “I cannot tell you that either, & was somewhere along this road.” "Good night,” sang the Chief cheer- ily, and started down the hill, Boroday had come out of the Ml- il ‘Then, in spite of the band was etill Things tramped on down one hundred yards behind him Chief followed, Talbot, hammering at a recalei- trant tire, filled the alr with the short, angry raps of his hammer en the rim. . . . The Russian had an almost’ en- canny sense of pursuit, More than once in his life it had saved him, and now he knew he was being followed, He made no attempt whatever to throw his pursuer off the track, but went directly to the station. There he got an evening paper at the clos- ing news-stand and glanced over it, standing over an erc light. For all his engrossment he saw quite dis- tinctly the figure of the Chief as he crossed the track and took up his sta- tion behind a pillar of the train-shed. (To Be Continued, elit GOING AWAY FOR THE SUMMER? Remember The Eve- ning World prints each week complete up-to-date novell —a week's reading! Have The Eve- ning World sent to your sum- mer address, the Man Who Wrote WILL BEGIN “TARZAN OF THE APES.” By Edgar Rice Burroughs, IN NEXT MONDAY'S EVENING WORLD. Very Best in This New Serial. EAD IT!