The evening world. Newspaper, October 11, 1915, Page 15

eo tit stst—“‘i‘“_Ssi—sSS a or ME WORD _ 2 ithe The Evening World Daily Magazine. M POT OSS TOT TOOT IT TT EMPEROR Komence of an American's Strange Ad- ventures in the | ranco-Prussian war ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE adrian tale bBo! na cated we we im 6 Renee Cod CHAPTER 1. 1 Pali into Disgrace. STRUCK my here together, 1 Mme te Chink fT bet and came to the “salute” ved none of the hot emotion thet eng bet- ing be my beert, bet thet | bere myself as « trained evidier should ul, it wae anger end my heart was atek met only the erie of w Metery of the word Aud thus Goudt not. 624 noise of Maris came to us faintiy. In the at thue and gold uniform, sprawled the Emperor, Bhort, fat, eray-pailid, hie tong omartness, bis goatee neatly waaed; 4 pone (© assume, for my blood ran rot with with Blew niment. | knew thie was milery Career, DUt Perhaps as great @ crigis in the | lor @ second of #0 we four remained silent—an 044 group, t formed to that vast gilt-and-mirrored room where the bustle one side of the table, resplendent in mustache twisted upward in abeurd bie email, bicodshot eyes glared and Diinking; bis short, stubby Gngers fumbling helplessly with the papers I had brought bim. 1 have seldom seen a lean reenl Ar- presented at that mo- Imperial Majesty Na-~ poleon LiL, Emperor of the French, On the other band, in all my life f have never beheld a more Imperially Deautiful woman than she who leaned over the armored chair-back, glane- fing at th ame papers that atrowed ber husband's lap. The Empress Kugenio was at this time well on toward middie age, Bho had, in fact, passed her forty-fourth birthday. Yet she bad the face and form of a mirl. ‘There was a nameless something Qbout her, too, that suggested royal blood—of which, by the way, she had not one drop in her veins, Exquisite fn dress, countenance and bearing, Bhe seemed a xlint of living sunshine in that tinsled room. ‘The third of the group—a portly, rubicund man in the uniform of @ major-general—was His Grace the Due de Meride—born politician, born and—most trusted of Her three potent advisers. In such lofty company it seems @nti-climax to mention myself, Ray Benton, New Yorker by birth and now cavalry gaptain in the French army. My errand alone accounted for my presence there. At the first whisper of war with Prussia I had been one of several trusted officers sent secret- Wy to Germany. No, they did not call me a spy. Yet I had been one none the less. And capture would have meant @ hempen collar for my neck. But I had escaped —through luck and native Yankee wit—and was tho first of the secret envoys to present a full report to majesties. ye alory the Emperor who broke the ‘priet silence. He spoke pettishly, shrugging his stooped shoulders like @ peevish child as be addressed De Meride. “1 can make nothing of t all, general,” he exclaimed. “There ts & wretched error somewhere, I we read your reports, day by by day, They tell me our own ‘armies are prepared, down to the last ‘button on the gaiters of the last #ol- @er. They tell me, too, that Prussia is panic-stricken; that her troops are disorganized; that villagers near the Rhine are fleeing eastward in terror, mingling with the frightened, {ll-dis- elplined troops.” ~ “Tt ts #0, sire,” affirmed De Meride emilingly, the while he cast a covert- ly lowering look at me, “If'—— » ¥ot look what reports this ‘expert ‘of yours brings us!” went on the Emperor, unheeding, ‘Three vast German armies, perfectly equipped, drilled ike machines, marching with- ‘out tents or an ounce of surplus bag- gago—all headed for the Rhine, plan- ning to move across into France like some three-headed snake—the peas- ‘ants all along the Rhine rushing to farms, eager to defend their Vater- a, PNtoltke, Bismarck and the reat of the Deutschers, all working out @ ees campaign as they might @ game of chess, Mathematical accu- where. “It Is very simple,” began the Em~- Press with a nervous little laugh, “We must immediately’— “The two reports do not agree,” in- terrupted Napoleon with a snarl "L have been fooled—by some one, By whe 1 demand" “yhis man lies," broke in De Meride, coldly insolent. “He’—~ “By the laws of our army,” I ‘shouted, furious, “I can be shot for striking you, or for challenging you to a duel, Do not presume too far mpun ives tows, No man shall say I ie. But for the Empress’s pres- ence” “Tut, tut, * clucked Napoleon in weary repro “What have we here? Captain Benton, you forget nd the respect due your . Withdraw that rude speect, “Willingly, sire” I retorted, “when “I demanji justice, Lf I have served racy, calm power, confidence every- Your Majesty well I deserve credit. If 1 have deceived you I merit death by martial law. In either case*-— The Emprees had been whispering rapidly in De Meride's ear, The Duke now broke tn. | “I spoke overhastily,” he aoid in ky reservation. “Captain Benton's name for honor and all that ts up- right was well established in Algiers, Indeed, it was on the strength of that reputation, as much as for his known | *kill as @ pcout, that he was chosen for this Pruseian affair, I was wrong, Your Majesty, to doubt his word. Hut his tidings are none the leas) faine, He has been grossly misin- formed.” “Eh?” queried the Emperor, pus- sled, “Yet his report is ciroumatan- tial, And it denies all of yours, Duke. For instance, you toid me the South German States hated Prus- sia and would seek alliance with us. He tells ua they are flocking to Prus- ol ald. ‘You told me Prussia coulld not Put two hundred thousand men in the field, and then only after months of recruiting. This report saya there are @lready over four hundred thousand armed men on the march and re- serves of'— “De Meride has just explained,” in- terposed the Empress in that won- drously sweet voice of hers, “that Captain Benton 1s mistaken. The | captain has been misled by German} secret agents, of course, who guessed | Ris {dentity and found it more prot. ! ttuble to send him back with false news than to hang him. The whole | report is a web of absurdities.” Now, even had court etiquette per- mitted, I could not bluntly contradict ® woman and tell her that it was not I, who was “misled.” From. firat Eugenie had dabbled in politica for which she had no talent—and had always been the tool of her un- scrupulous or incompetent advisers, As all the world now knows, it was these “advisers” who had forced on the present conflict with Prussia, let- ting the Empress believe it was the rosult of her own statecraft, and en- couraging her to refer to the adven- ture as “my little war.” And among all the advisere—whom she as slavishly obeyed, even as the third Napoleon obeyed her—none other held so complete dominion over her mind as did Meride, “Are you sure?” muttered Napo- leon as his wife paused in her vehe- ment speech, “Because, if not, it would be well to halt our armies that are rushing to the Rhine, It would even be unwise for me to start to-morrow to join Jrossard’s division on the Saar, If Prussia can really put more than four hundred thousand men into the fivld"— “She cannot!" laughed the Em- press, “Listen, De Meride and I have been daily in touch with the empire's greatest tacticlans, Our wecret service force is perfect. Ia it | likely that every one of our military experts and our most skilled spies is at fault, and that this unknown American cavalryman is right? Is it not on the face of it insanely impos aible?” “An American!" mused Napoleon, much iinpressed by her baniering yet almost hypnotic tone, “That ts true, I had forgotten. I know the American character well. I lived in ‘ew Jersey for ten miserable months, And when I told the yokels there I was of imperial blood they used to laugh at me and tell me all men were equal, I might have known better than to trust a man from such 4 land. Perhaps you and De Meride are right.” “Perhaps?” ehe mocked reproach. fully, “If you begin to doubt us, in whom can you trust? If the word of an American captain of cavalry tw to be taken in preference to that of your own wife"-— She got no further, The imperial weathercock had veered in @ gusty Wlast of wrath, “You're right,” he cried. “I was a fool, It ts all a thick-headed blunder or om the pi Yan kee, What d'ye mean, fellow?" he Joured at me, shaking the papers in my face, “what d'ye mean by bring- ing me a pack of lies like this? If you're not a traitor you're a fool. You've been gulled by German agents, Any one can see that by Jooking at these lists of yours.” Jt was hopeless to say or do any- thing. man's crafty brain, which bad raised him from the low- Jy position of politicel exile and New this man withdraws his accusation Jersey schoolmaster to the imperial that I lic, I have served Your Ma- throne of France, was fast losing its . a t Algiers. old power, Sorte hoth hore and in Algiers nit Tho mortal disease of which he was Pieked my life 4 dozen Umes on this #0 soon to die was already upon him, German ver ‘or reward, am 1 He was a weak, readily influenced to te discredited and branded as a wreck of his old shrewd self, | saw ar? [1 this caso ‘liar means also {he helplessness of it all. Yet I all ie js ca sought once more to right myself, altor!’ “Sire,” I exclaimed, “L stuke my life on my report's accuracy,” bint RE DD You GeT THe Od CAN Caan ( ALLRGHT 1AM COMING “Pish!" he sputtered, “What is the life of one beggarly cavalry officer against the fate of France? You've been tricked, sir, That is the best I can gay for you. So gullible a fellow is a disgrace to the army. I advise you to send in your resignation be- fore your blunders do any more dam- age. I whipped out my sword, The Em- peror filnched, Bo did Meride. Hugente alone was unmoved, and eyed me with that wondrous, inecru- table smile of hers. Before De Meride could touch the bell at bis elbow I had broken the blade of my sabre across my knee. Dropping the pieces at the Em- Peror’s feot I saluted and stamped from the room. Along the marble corridor and down the wide my empty against the ston of impotent fury, At peril of 1 clattering » my brain a maz I had brought my Emperor tidings of vital import that might well save him-—and France nee the pit yawning just al 1 own I had hoped for promotion, at the very least, Instead, my re- ward had been vile insult that I could not resent. I had incurred the cbarge of being a liar, a fool or a traitor—or all three, And my mill- tary career was at an end, T had looked forward to this war as © golden opportunity for hi vancement; a confilct whera my aword inight aps cleave for me a path to the coveted marshal’s baton. d, I was a discredi outcast, 4 stranger in a str land And all becau served my master overwoll. Out of the palace I strode, and blindly stamped through the quiet garden paths, seeking to get away— anywhere—to outrun my furious de- spair—to avoid the sight of man. Around a turn in the prim, hedge- hordered gravel walk I wheeled, Then J halted—brought up, all standing, and momentarily sane again—by tho sight of a face, CHAPTER Il. The Wonder-Girl. T was a girl who barred the narrow, twisting path be- for me, Even before she spoke I knew she was an American, Looking back on the scene, I recall she was dressed as only American girls know how to dress, But, at the moment, I saw nothing but her face, T Nave 6068 tivie claselo, Te features, but never a counte: whose Ineffable sweetness so struck to my very soul, On sight of It I felt, I think, the same mad impulse of en- thusiasm that brought a whole vast sudience involuntarily to its fe when Handel's “Hallelujah Chorus” was first sung. This praise sounds overdrawn to you, perhaps, But then you never saw Madge Clay. My ved rage forgotten, I halted, staring stupidly at the girl, with the absurd fantasy that—somewhere— some time—she and 1 had met in dreams. She, bn her part, had stopped as I ewung buady round the curve into ' TSA WONDERFUL EASY craie! HA) | EVER SAT 'N SONNY BY HECK! THIS 4S SOME EASY CHAIR the path; agd she drew back a step to avoid colliding with me, But now, as our eyes met, @ won- dering look fashed over her face—first doubt, then astonishment, and last of all a sudden radiant joy that trans- figured her, “Dick!* she cried, as I sttll stood marvelling, “Dick Graeme! Before I could reply or fairly grasp her words she had taken an eager step forward, bad thrown both arms about my neck and had kissed mo, No, it was not an illusion or heaven sent mirage, She kissed me, Full on the mouth! If it seems strange to you who read, then judge what effect it had on me— when this tall, gloriously lovely mald- en—an utter stranger to me—calied me rapturously by @ name not my own, and—kissed me, vat ‘Will you laugh at me when I say my first clear sensation was of shame? Not shame for my own un- heard of good luck; but for the hu- millation this sweet American girl must experience when she should know of her mistake, ‘ Of course, she bad mistaken me for some one dear to her, A brother; no —a sweetheart, There was nothing sisterly in the joyous amaze of bi greeting. I sought to ease the impos- sible situation us best 1 might. “Pardon!” I managed to say, as her arms released me, “I am Ray Benton, captain in His Majesty's Ninety-elghth Hussars, 1"—— She fell back, But there was no mortified upology in her pained gaze, “Why, Dick!" she cried in surprise, “that isn't a pretty joke, Aren't you jad to see me?” ladder than for any sight that bas met my eyes in years,” I blun- dered impulsively, “but sorry beyond words that I am not the fortunate man you take me to be, | am Ray Benton, an American, serving in the French cavairy, May | ask your for- wiveness for letting you make such a divine error? And will you believe me when | promise to forget your— your greeting? £ no doubt have the In The Evening World Chambers, Mary Roberts Rinehart, equal celebrity, ONE OF THE MANY THOUSAND PEOPLE WHO ARE READING THE EVENING WORLD’S Complete Novel Each Week? If not, you are robbing yourself of the richest fiction treat ever offered to the readers of # newspaper. The Evening World, every week, printa a novel by some famous author, Those novels are issued complete in alx large daily instalments. They are selected with a view to auiting the tastes of all readers. And the tremendous success of the plan has long been demonstrated. “COMPLETE serios is the foremost work of such “best-seller” authors wood, Morgan Robertson, Margaret Widdemer, George Randolph Chee- ter, Louis Joseph Vance, Edger Rice Burroughs and many ethers of onday. October 11. 1 fora? ) ITSA on ) - ~4 | DANDY | P ; } CHAIR | -, BRoTweR | ays Jon FS: _— — + Aid = good luck to resemble some one whor Dick!” she cried with impatient despair, “are you crazy? You can’t have forgotten my very looks In ix liltle months. You know I am Madge Clay as well as I know you are Rich- ard Graeme. e “Madge Clay?" I echoed absently, For again at the name the absurd fancy seized me that this wonder-girl and I had met in dreams, She winced at my colorless repett- tion of her name, Then her dark eyes Mashed. “If t had not known you all my life,” she murmured, her sweet voice shaking, “If we had not been engaged for a whole year—it you had not told me @ thousand times that you love me—if I did not know you for a man of stainless honor—I should believe you wore taking this cruel, brutal way of breaking our engage"—— “Miss Clay!" I cried. “You are torturing yourself on my wretched account, and falsely blaming some honorable man who no doubt adore you, Can't you see I ain telling yo! the truth? Could any man who was not @ lunatic pretend not to know you unless he really didn’t? “lam Ray Benton. A hundred men in Paris can verify that, The army lists here and in Algiers will quickly prove {t to you. Who the doubly happy Richard Graeme may be I do not know, though the name, as you speak it, seems to have vaguely familiar sound to me. I have no doubt read it somewhere, I wish to Heaven,” I added bitterly, “that I were indeed he, In all this broad earth there is not one living soul who oan show such joy at seeing m “Oh, you aro mad! Insane!" sho exclaimed, “I know you as no one else does. I know your very mood and expression. And you never could Pretend so successfully, Am | drean- ing, or have L too gone cragy? It ts all a horrible nightmare. “On the contrary," I soothed her, “it {u the sort of thing that happens every day in this old world of mistakes and NOVEL Robert W. Rupert Hughes, James Oli Cur- f | a A Oe Oe oe We ENS CIMA OF SRO WHOle surprises, Every man ts sald to have @ double. It is my lot, no doubt, to look #0 much like your flance that after six months of separation you take me for him, Is he by any chance @ French officer, too?” “No, He te—you are—a captain in the United states army, A veteran of the Civil War. A member of my father’s staff. You"—— “It was not my fortune to bear arma for my own country,” sald I, “and five years ago, when the Civil War ended, | was sous-licutenant of cavalry in Algiers, My legal term of service for France was not yet over and I could not have gone to America. Indeed, I have not been in the United States in—in—more years than I can remember, As for"-—— “Listen to me,” she broke in, lay- ing on my arm a@ Uttle hand whose magnetic touch somehow went through my whole being, “Listen to me," she went on, holding my eyes with hers and speaking tn the slow, compelling tone one uses In imparting lesson to some backward child. You have lost your senses! How you come to be tn French cavalry uniform and calling yourself ‘Benton’ Ido fot Know. But you are suffer- ing from some terrible delusion; and if both our lives are not to be wrecked I must rouse you from It. “You left America-—-New York—just six months ago. Father and I came to the dock to see you off, You camo, by order of the Government at Wash- ington, to study French cavalry con- ditions, and to be on the spot in case the rumored trouble between France and Prussia should develop into war, “You wrote me regulariy—at Orat, Then for months | heard nothing from you, But father tola me you were no doubt visiting the various garrison towns where the postal system was detective, Bo I kept on trusting you. Then when news of the war came, and father and others of our generals hurried over here to watch the man- oeuvres for the Government, | made father bring me along. This is our very first day in Paris, Father and I were walking to the Tuileries and he stopped, back there, to speak to an old acquaintance, | grew tired of waiting. So 1 strolled on—and came face to face With You. Aud aow you don't even know me!” All at once the whole situation was clear, 1 wondered L had not thought of it before, This glorious girl— whose sad eyes and broken volce had wrung my very soul—Wwas @ lunatic! There was no other explanation. Ail her talk of @ lost lover—her de- tailed account of his supposititious cureer—her own present plight-all were explained by this single theory. bhe had managed to give her nurses the slip and was walking abroad alone in search of her imaginary sweet- beart. I was confirmed tn this knowledge by the fact that I had more than once scanned tho full lists of the American fficers on governmental duty in ) searching there for some fa- And “Richard Graeme” A those liste, At this “ips my heart eched the seg MY Game Wm thoes dare wae vet go oi They will be auaious to eee ty you speak!” she not one bit like How ere murmured poor boy ip 6 foreiga 1 thank Meaven J met y rm. OTe, yes,” I soothed, “It is very, very fortua Now let us burry ae fant as pine course? Mer gre tears, | was At any moment t secluded walk where we stood can to where you are stop- u know addreas, the n to gel her away, ge borders ant be invaded by some party of gay of- fi ere—each or ali of whom might claim as the mythical ichard eme.* " I repeated, “take my Now where do you live drawing away from me, “What aur ou don't talk like an insane man, Kather as if it were | you thought crasy, are’"— Round the curve hurried rapid, fem footsteps. An elderly, heavily built man, rucely dressed and ub coping mustache and “Hur: whiskers then #o common in Ameri. can army circles rounded the turn d came up with us iat wlan Of the girl confronted by & stranger In French cavalry uniform he halted im angry dismay, then ushed between us. " Madge!” be demanded sharply, “la this forel@m puppy annoying you? If ~-Lord bless my aoul!l” he broke off, rushing at me and selzin, oth my hands in delighted grip. » Dick Graeme! Dick, you old rascal, what d'ye mean by dressing up like « Frenchy and growing @ muatache and knew jad!" Z| | goatee? I hardly knew you, CHAPTER II. The Girl and the General. HE old gentleman was pink } j} in the face with the pleas- | ure the meeting gave him. Every inch of his portly form, from the shiny patent leather boots to the waving white whiskers, seemed to exhale delight. I stood gaping at him like an Idiot, “Upon my word, boy!" he rumbled, noting my blank expression. “You don't seem especially tickled to meet your old chief. If your welcome to Madge wasn't any warmer, I don't wonder her eyes are wet. What's the matter? Have you two been quarrel- ing?” “Father’— began Madge. Then her voice failed her. She clung to the old fellow’s arm as to a haven of refuge in orm. From pink bis face went red. this? he demanded. & pretty scene after alx absence! Dick, will you ex- plain?” Explain! common sense told me it waa quite impossible that two lunatics should My brain was dizzy. My be abroad in the Tulleries rdens that morning with precisely the same hallucination, So L was forced to revert to my first idea, I bore a marvellous resem- blance to one Richard Graeme, whom they both knew--and whose head at that moment of dire embarrassment, 1 would bave taken exquisite pleasure in punching, “The explanation was very simpl I answered, “Miss Clay has''-—~ “Miss Clay?” he interrupted. “Next you'll be calling me ‘Gen, Clay’ In- stead of ‘Chief!' What" “Miss Clay,” I pursued stiffly, “has mistaken me for a Capt. Graeme of the United States army, whom it ap- pears, I resemble, You, air, have evidently fallen into the same error. May 1 offer once more my apologies for having unconsciously caused elther of you any embarrassment, aud"—— “You talk ike @ book,” snorted the general, “Are you crasy or only drunk? Or are you trying to be funny?” My temper is never of the most putiont. Aud events that day had trained tt sorely, “I am netther drunk ner out of my head,” I snapped; “and, with all my sins, no one ever accused me of being 4 humorist, I repeat, there has been 4 mistake, which, though |t was no fault of mine, I greatly regret. Per- mit me"— I wheeled about, strode along the walk to ths point whers !t morge: in the bustling avenue beyond. But as L reached the end of the path Gen. Clay's hand was on my shoulder. “Hold on, Dick—hold oni” puffed, winded by his haste. I stopped reluctantly, Had he been younger I should have shaken off his detaining grasp and burried away, “Hold op, lad!” he repeated. “Madge is in a terrible state about you, She thinks you've lost your wits or something. You can't leave us like this, You and I fought side by aide through the last two years of the Civil War, and"—— “And you captured Lee at Appo- mattox, while I was busy catching Jetterson Davia end taking Richmond arom «6 remem Graeme ont yours was Great ite al) perfecty Simple ae the Chinese Bow that [ve e@mitted cei, perbeps you will oar” 1 hed the erece to be ashamed of oy beorts! shaken my temper and “My boy,” anewered the “you are pleased to make fun wo both ence held sscred, eurer at events and people part of our country's bistory. your affair—not mine Hut whea deny you are Webard Graeme, my old staff officer, and my only daugh- ter's Hanes, then the matter does con- corn me. 1 want on explanation; and you must give it” “I have already explained in full,” 1 replied more quietly. “I am Capt. Tay Benton of the Ninety-sighth Hussars. If you doubt that, I wilt #0 with you to my regimental head- quarters and prove it. You and Miss Clay deciare I parted with you both six months ago, Six montha ago J Wan quartered at Algiers, as my com- fades there can testify, I had been there for years, Who Richard Graeme be I don't know; nor am Tf re sponsible for my chance likeness to him, My only regret in the affair te that I seem to have caused your daughter keen sorrow. I wish I might some way atone for that.” He waa studying my face rather than my words, Now abruptly he entd: “You came direct to Paris from Al- I was transferred to the Ninety-cighth from the"— “You say you served for years in Algiers, How many years?” ' “II don't remember. You will ind the record at"—- “Don't remember how long you sorved there? When were you last in America?” “II don’t recall. It was so long ago that"— “Since the Civil Wart” “No air. It was, of course, many years before that. In my boyhood. Bo long ago that the events are blurred in my memory.” “You are not Richard Graeme, you way, and”-— “I have told you again and again that I am not.” “And yet you have bis face, bie volce, his every expression,” “The likeness must indeed be {ft “Likeness?” he scoffed. “Many a man looks like some other. But oaly in story books can that likeness con- Unuo to deceive bis best friends whea they see him at close range and hear Lim speak, This is not a question of ‘Ukeness.’ You are Kichard Graeme, @ Civil War veteran, and formerly of my staff, And you are engaged to my daughter, What you mean thts queer pose I do not know, but & Aludgo's sake 1 mean to find aut.” There was @ truculence, an threat in hia deep voice, It rou my newly allayed anger. aa this some unusually clever ed- venturer-—some swindler who was Playing @ deep © of bie own, with ‘myself as his victim? Paris was just thou alive with such gentry; Bo far-fetched romance could exaggerate pred the qenlene mousuree they reaor' wo siti order to gain thelr looked more closely at the trate old man who called nttnael Gen. Clay, and who claimed such close ae- quaintance with me, From him my suspicious glance shifted to Madge's palo, wiserable face as sho rejoined ua. No! That girl was no aw! close ‘ decoy. in tho most prejudiced court of justice those honest dark eyes of ‘4 would have given the ile to euah & charge. And yet-——~ A ragged cheer rose from the bel- tering groups on the avenue, Down the street, with loud jingling of chaina aud accoute ts trotted « dosen gorgeously attired officers, One or two in general's uniform, ln the bevy there was but one tn civillan dress—e little, soldierly, black clad man, who managed his restive roan hor th the consummate alll jalry leader, man's — pleret, eyes chanced to rest for an instant on us us we stood at the entrance to the path. At once he relned his roan out of the fast-trotting cavaleade, darted ucross pavement and sidewalk, reined up @ second just in front of us, suiuted in gay familiarity, and eried: “Welcome to Paris, Gen, ! Miss Clay, I shall hope for pleasure of calling on you before we «tart for the front.” With & wave of his hand he had galloped off te rajnin hla compentons, jeaving me looking after him in new wonder, For I had at once recognized the little rider in civillan dress, was not an officer In all Parls who had not seen and admired this most distinguished guest of the French aa- ton, You know that man?” queried Gen, + Yoo—by sight. It ls the American weneral, Phil Sheridan.” “Under whom you served in the Bhenandoah Valley” “Whom | never saw until he came to Paris,” I retorted, But there was now less an, no suspicion in my tone, ‘Tl whom Phil Sheridan had so halled a# @ brother-in-arma surely be no more imposter, more my theories (Te'be Continued) a