BACK ON PARK ROW.
As Lawyer Hands had confidently expected, the grand jury, after
considering all the facts pertaining to the _Chronicle’s_ explosion
case, refused to find an indictment against Fred Carroll.
As soon as the proprietor of the _Bulletin_ was set free, the Camera
Chap accompanied the lawyer back to New York, and received a warm
welcome from Managing Editor Paxton and the _Sentinel_ staff.
One of the first persons whom Hawley met after his return was Doctor
Hugo Allyne, the eminent specialist, who had ascribed the Camera Chap’s
headaches to nervous indigestion, and advised him to go to some quiet
spot and take the “rest cure.”
It was on Broadway that Hawley encountered the man of medicine. Although
the latter had a good memory for faces, he had some difficulty in
recognizing in the ruddy-complexioned, clear-eyed young man who greeted
him, the pale, tired patient who had come to his office for advice a few
weeks before.
“Well, you’re certainly looking much better,” Doctor Allyne observed,
when Hawley had finally succeeded in identifying himself. “You must have
carried out my orders with great fidelity. How are the headaches?”
“Haven’t had a single one since I saw you,” the Camera Chap answered.
“I’m feeling as fit as a fiddle.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said the specialist, much gratified. “There is
nothing like a rest cure for cases such as yours. A few weeks in the
clear mountain air, and a careful avoidance of all forms of excitement,
will work wonders.”
“They certainly will,” Hawley agreed, trying hard not to grin.
For the next few months the Camera Chap was so busy that he did not have
time to go back to Oldham to visit his friend Carroll; but he kept track
of what was going on in that town by means of the copies of the
_Bulletin_ which the mail brought him each day.
One day, just as he was stepping out of the _Sentinel_ office, on his
way to take some snapshots of a society wedding, he almost collided with
a tall, broad-shouldered young man who was about to enter.
“Why, hello, Mr. Mayor!” he exclaimed delightedly. “This is indeed a
pleasant surprise. What on earth is your honor doing so far away from
Oldham?”
The Honorable Fred Carroll, mayor of Oldham, smiled expansively as he
gripped the Camera Chap’s hand.
“I’ve come to New York especially to look you up,” he announced. “I have
just discovered, old man, that I am even more in your debt than I
thought I was.”
As Carroll spoke, he drew from his waistcoat pocket a folded slip of
pink paper, and handed it to Hawley.
“Why, what’s this?” exclaimed the latter, feigning great astonishment.
“A check for five thousand dollars made out to my order! What is the
meaning of this, Mr. Mayor?”
“It means,” replied Carroll, a break in his deep voice, “that I have
learned the secret of that five thousand dollars’ worth of advertising
which your friend Mr. Cheston brought to the _Bulletin_ at a time when
the money was sorely needed. I was suspicious of that advertising from
the start, Frank, but it was only yesterday that I learned the truth
about it--that it was nothing but a ruse on your part to get me to
accept a loan from you. Old man, I shall never forget your kindness. You
certainly are the best friend a fellow ever had. You had done so much
for me already; then, to cap it all, you went and drew your savings----
“Oh, quit it!” Hawley interrupted gruffly. “For Heaven’s sake, put out
the stump speech, Fred. The money was idle in the bank. I had no
immediate use for it, and I knew that you had; so it was only logical
that I should let you have it until such a time as the _Bulletin_ was
making enough money to enable you to pay me back. If that time has now
arrived, I’ll accept your check, and we’ll consider the incident closed.
But I can’t take half of that amount. Rest assured, I didn’t give all
those people free advertising. I made contracts with them through an
agency, gave them very low rates, and in a little while I had part of
the money back in the bank.”
As Carroll still seemed intent on thanking him, the Camera Chap headed
him off by hurriedly changing the subject.
“How is Mrs. Carroll?” he inquired.
“First-rate, thank you. Melba joins me, Frank, in thank----”
“And how are you making out as mayor?”
“Fine! If I do say it myself, I seem to be making a great hit with the
people of Oldham. I’ve already put into effect several important
reforms. One of them was the repealing of the anticamera ordinance. It’s
a different town since the People’s Party succeeded that bunch of
grafters who were running things in Henkle’s time. But I say, Frank, I
really must express my thanks for----”
“By the way, what has become of Henkle?” the Camera Chap inquired
hastily.
“He has retired to private life--says he’s had enough of politics. I
shall never forget, old man, what you have done for----”
“And the Gales? Are they still running the _Chronicle_? I understand
they escaped being indicted for that bomb conspiracy.”
“Yes,” Carroll answered. “Henkle used all the influence he could wield
to save them, and managed to get them whitewashed. Of course, for
Melba’s sake, I was mighty glad to have it turn out that way. But
they’re not running the _Chronicle_ any more. Old Gale found himself so
unpopular as a result of that explosion affair that as soon as he was
able to leave the hospital he sold his paper at a ridiculously low
figure; sold his house, too, and left town for good.”
“And did his son go with him?”
“Yes. I understand, though, that he’s trying to get back his old job on
the New York _Daily News_, so possibly you’ll have the pleasure of
seeing him again before long. But I say, Frank, I’ve come all the way
from Oldham to tell you how much I appreciate----”
“And how about my old friend Chief Hodgins?” the Camera Chap
relentlessly interrupted. “I saw in the _Bulletin_ that you fired him
from the force as soon as you were sworn in. What is he doing now?”
Carroll laughed. “He has gone into the hotel business. He’s bought an
inn on Main Street, not far from police headquarters. He’s got a big
sign in the lobby, just before the clerk’s desk, and it says: ‘No
cameras allowed on these premises!’”
THE END.
* * * * *
THE BANK ROBBER.
By HERO STRONG.
I think it was some time in July that she came to Locust Cottage.
It was a house that most ladies would have feared to live in, for its
situation was lonely and secluded, and its reputation bad as possible.
Some one was murdered there several years before, and such a
circumstance is enough to blast the character of any house in the
country. In the city they are used to such things, and do not mind them.
Mrs. Leroy did not take a lease of Locust Cottage without knowing what
was just said of it. She heard old Granny Coe’s story of the “death
lights” that danced past the windows on stormy nights, and listened,
with tolerable patience to Peter Jones’ narrative of the immense black
dog that had howled at him one night when he was passing the house.
Peter was a brave fellow, according to his own estimate, and he averred
that he went to the fence and got a stake to make “daylight shine
through the sassy cur,” but when he struck at him the dog was not there.
There was nothing left to mark the spot where he had stood and growled,
except a speck of fire about as big as a dollar; and even that faded
away as Peter gazed upon it, and left just nothing at all.
Then there was another story of a fair young girl, with long, flaxen
hair, wreathed with water lilies; and this girl sat on the moldy piazza,
of wet nights, and sang plaintive airs to an old broken-stringed lute,
which, according to all descriptions, must have seen its best days long
before.
In a country neighborhood, no one ever forgets anything, and so when the
report transpired that Locust Cottage was haunted, every old crone in
the vicinity would remember some occurrence which made it very
reasonable that it should be haunted.
Captain Fox owned the cottage, and the captain was an extremely
conscientious man. In fact, his conscience was a great trouble to him,
for he was exceedingly fond of getting the best end of a bargain always,
and it seems very unfortunate for such a man to have a conscience.
Covetousness and conscientiousness never work well together. They go a
great deal better in single harness.
The captain informed Mrs. Leroy that the cottage had the reputation of
being inhabited by spirits, and this satisfied his conscientiousness.
Then he told her that the people who said so were all irresponsible
parties, and that satisfied his covetousness. Mrs. Leroy said it was
quite immaterial to her about the spirits. She was not timid about dead
people, and forthwith engaged the place.
Locust Cottage was very beautifully located, though it was fully half a
mile from any other dwelling. There were locust trees in front, and at
the rear of the house quite an extensive pond, where water lilies grew
in abundance.
I remember of hearing the ladies of our family speaking about the new
arrival, and I concluded that as they did not say anything against her
she was some ugly old crone, who wanted to get away by herself and hire
a house cheap. It is only young and pretty women who are slandered by
their own sex.
I was busy in the village for seven hours of the day, but I went home to
tea, and occasionally some lady caller of my mother’s would remark on
the pertinacity with which Mrs. Leroy kept herself secluded; but
further than that I knew and heard nothing. Neither did I care, for I
had never been a lady’s man, and at thirty-eight I was not likely to get
up much of an interest for one I had never seen.
I was cashier of the Southbridge Bank, and, as ours was a manufacturing
town, our institution did a very flourishing business, and kept one
stirring most of the time.
It was a hot day in August, and i sat down for a moment, with a new
number of a favorite magazine in my hand. It was so hot, and so near
noon, that no one would be in until after dinner, I thought, and i
should get a chance to read that article on South America of which there
was so much said.
Scarcely, however, had I cut the first leaf before the door opened and a
lady entered. As it was a lady, of course I could not do otherwise than
bow, and be very polite to her.
She wanted a check cashed. I looked it over. It was New Orleans paper,
and made payable to Eudora Leroy, or order.
Ah, thought I, looking at my fair visitor, so the old lady has a pretty
daughter; and then I wondered that no one had ever spoken of her.
The face that gleamed on me through the black lace veil was a very
beautiful face, though masked somewhat by lines of care or sorrow.
Perhaps the old lady was tyrannical.
“Have you an order for the payment of a draft?” I asked.
“None is needed,” she replied quietly. “I will indorse it.” And, taking
up a pen, she wrote the name on the back, in a free, graceful hand,
Eudora Leroy.
“Then you are Mrs. Leroy?” I said, in some surprise.
“Yes, sir.”
I took a good look at her. She was a brunette, and I have always fancied
that style of woman. Some way, they look as if they would wash and wear
better than the light style.
Her hair and eyes were very dark; the hair combed loosely, but in these
days, when every woman’s hair curls, it is not worth while to mention
that fact, I suppose. She had some color, and her expression was sweet
in the extreme.
The hand which she had ungloved to indorse the draft was white and
shapely, not a hand unused to labor, by any means.
Her age was seven or eight and twenty, I judged; possibly she might be
thirty. Faces like hers do not show their age.
After that I saw Mrs. Leroy quite frequently. She came to the bank about
once a fortnight, and always on business of this kind. I mean with a
check to be cashed. She evidently had plenty of money, so my supposition
that she had taken Locust Cottage because the rent was low could not be
correct.
Sometimes she would stop a moment in the bank and answer my remarks
about the weather, or the news--for I always tried to have something
ready to say to her; but generally she seemed in a hurry, and I noticed
that she never went into the street, but always started directly for
home when she left the bank.
All her marketing was done by a colored woman, a great, strong-looking,
sphinx-faced creature, who never spoke an unnecessary word, and never
answered any questions.
Mrs. Leroy was a Southerner, so it was probable, and the village
concluded, that she had brought the woman from her old home with her.
I think I never told any one that I was getting quite well acquainted
with Mrs. Leroy. Somehow, I did not feel as if I wanted to discuss her,
or hear her discussed.
I slept at the bank nights, but I always closed at four o’clock and went
home to tea. And about eight in the evening I generally returned, and
went to bed in a back room adjoining the reception room.
One night in October, just as I was about to close to go home, Mrs.
Leroy came in. She seemed very much frightened, and her face paled and
flushed alternately.
“I wish to see you alone,” she said, in a low voice. “Lock the outer
door, if you please, and then listen to me.”
I did as requested, and then, sinking her voice to a whisper, she went
on to tell me of a plot which had been laid by three men to break into
the bank that night and rob the vault.
“Mr. Morelle,” she said, in conclusion, “if you had not slept here I
confess that I should have done nothing about it, because I risk my life
by betraying them. But I heard them say that if you awoke, the only way
would be to murder you, and I could not remain idle and suffer any one
to be killed.”
“But who are these men, and how did you learn their intentions? And from
whom are you in danger?” I asked.
“These are questions I cannot answer. I have warned you, but you must
not ask to know too much. Be on your guard. I think, if they discover
that you have means of defense they will go away. You will call in some
one, will you not?” And my heart beat a little faster as I marked the
ill-concealed anxiety of her countenance.
“I will be prepared----”
“Hush!” she said, laying her hand imploringly on my arm. “You must not
think of bloodshed! Promise me that you will not! Oh, Mr. Morelle,
promise me that you will not kill him, for my sake! I have risked my
life for you--now, in return, promise me that there shall be no
bloodshed!”
“Who is it that I must not injure?”
“Alas, I cannot tell you! Oh!” she cried, under her breath, “what if I
have doomed him to death?”
She evidently had a strong personal interest in one of the robbers, and
I felt myself growing nervous and uneasy at the thought. What if one of
the villains was her husband? Nothing more likely. One never knows
anything about these women who move into out-of-the-way houses and do
not join the sewing society, where every one is expected to put her
character into the common stock for discussion.
I thanked Mrs. Leroy for coming to me. I promised that, so far as I
could prevent it, there should be no bloodshed.
She went away with a sadly depressed air, and I went to call on Mr.
Jenkins, the president of the bank. We talked the matter over, though,
of course, I could not tell him how I had obtained my information. Then
together, we called on Davis and Lucas, two of our most efficient
policemen, and it was arranged that I should go home to tea, as usual,
return to the bank at my accustomed hour, and admit Davis, Lucas, and
Peabody, one of their set, by the back door.
We carried out the program. We were all well armed, and prepared for any
emergency. The policemen went to sleep, and I kept watch. About twelve I
heard a noise, like the grating of a file, but so dexterously was the
instrument handled that for some time I was not sure but the creaking of
the heavy shutters had deceived me.
Presently I heard the slightest touch in the world of iron against iron,
and then I knew that the strong staple which held the padlock of the
south window was being drawn out.
I touched Davis, and in a moment the three men were awake and on the
alert.
We let the burglars alone until they were fairly at work picking the
locks of the safe, and then we pounced upon them.
They were only two, and we were four; but they were desperate
characters, and did not stand bound by any promises not to shed blood.
“Betrayed!” cried one of them, the younger of the two, for the third one
had not entered the building, but was standing at the window, outside.
“I know who has done it, and I swear by the heavens above us she shall
pay dearly for it!”
“Submit quietly,” said Lucas, “and we will not fire on you.”
“Get out of my way!” returned the burglar defiantly, and at the same
time he drew a pistol and fired full in Lucas’ face.
He dodged, but the ball grazed his cheek, and the pain made Lucas forget
everything else.
Before one of us could lift a finger to stop him, he had dashed the
young man against the iron door of the safe, and, by the limp, helpless
way in which his head hung down, I knew that his neck was broken.
Lucas eyed his work with grim satisfaction.
“It’s the first one I ever killed outright, but I swear I’d do it again
under like circumstances.”
The other burglar submitted without resistance, but the third one was
never secured.
There was a coroner’s inquest on the dead body of the young robber, and
just in the gray light of the morning Mrs. Leroy forced her way through
the crowd to where the corpse lay.
I shall never forget the expression of the face she lifted to mine, so
sadly reproachful, so full of unutterable grief.
“You promised me that there should be no murder done!” she said
hoarsely.
“I could not help it. What was he to you?” I asked, with an eagerness I
could not repress.
“He was my half brother. I had no reason to fear that he would be
injured, for, when I heard their plan, it was arranged that he should
remain outside and receive the gold. But, still, I had apprehensions for
his safety, and that was why I asked you to promise what I did. Take me
to him now.”
I led her to his side, and saw her lift his cold head to her bosom and
shower kisses on his icy lips.
“Oh, Albert, Albert!” she cried, in agony. “If my life would have saved
yours! And to think that it was I who betrayed you to your death!”
Even as she spoke, I felt the strong shudder that shook her frame, and
the next moment I received her fainting form in my arms.
I did not care what people said. From the depths of my soul I believed
Eudora Leroy was pure and innocent, and she had no protector. So I took
it upon myself to care for her. I carried her home, engaged a nurse, and
called a physician.
And I am afraid that I answered my lady mother anything but politely
when she remonstrated with me on what she called my extraordinary
conduct.
But you will want to know about the burglar who was secured alive, and a
few words will give the facts regarding him.
His name was Granger. He was from New Orleans, and had known Mrs.
Leroy’s brother there. His name was Albert Harper. He was a rash,
high-tempered fellow, Granger said, and when in liquor easily
influenced.
Granger was tried, and committed for four years, but I think he died
before his time was out.
Mrs. Leroy was ill a long time. It was spring before she was able to see
any one, and then she sent for me. I had known all along that she would
do so, and had been awaiting her summons with nervous anxiety. For I
suppose you have already guessed that I loved Eudora Leroy.
She was downstairs, lying on a lounge, when I was shown into her
presence, but she arose instantly and took a chair by the window.
Before she spoke I had leisure to observe how much she had changed, and
how wan and dejected she was generally. Even her voice had lost much of
the silvery ring which I had loved so well to hear.
She began to tell me her little history. I had been kind to her, she
said, and she thought it but justice that I should know all she had to
tell.
By birth she was a Louisianian. Her father was a wealthy planter, who
had been twice married. Albert was the son of his last wife. He had been
a difficult child to manage from his birth, and, as he grew older,
caused his friends a world of trouble. When he was fifteen, his mother
died, committing him to the care of Eudora. She promised the dying woman
to use her best influence for his good, and faithfully had the vow been
kept. She had followed him into places where it brought a blush to her
face to enter, and, vicious as he was, he never refused to go back with
her. She had paid his debts--for all the property was left to her at the
death of her father--she had borne with all his vices patiently, she had
hoped always that he would eventually forsake his evil ways and become
the honest, respectable man she desired him to be.
He had become concerned in a disgraceful affair at New Orleans which
compelled him to leave the city, and she had settled up her affairs
there and come to New England with him.
He was remorseful, and promised her faithfully that if she would take
him to some secluded place, where he should never meet Granger again, he
would try to reform. Granger had been his bane; but for his baleful
influence he would never have sunk to such depths of degradation.
So, full of hope for the future, Eudora had come to Southbridge. She had
married, only a year previously, a man much her senior, who had been
thrown from his horse and killed only a year after the marriage.
I gathered from Eudora’s manner while speaking of this marriage, that
she had never loved her husband, but had become his wife because he
loved her, and because his influence was very strong over Albert.
And the idea gave me unqualified satisfaction. You may say it is foolish
to be jealous of the dead, but--well, never mind. Most of us are selfish
enough to want the entire affections of those we love. We do not care to
share a divided interest.
After their coming to Southbridge, Mrs. Leroy said, Albert had become
thoroughly changed. He remained in the cottage all the time, engaged in
painting, for he was possessed of considerable artistic talent. He would
not go out, even for a walk, and thus it had happened that no one knew
of his existence.
But Granger found him out at last, and then all hope of his reformation
was over.
He brought him brandy, which always made him partially insane, and at
such times Eudora’s life was in danger. Albert was kind to her when not
under the influence of drink, but brandy made a demon of him. There was
nothing too bad for him to do when he was intoxicated. It was while he
was having one of those frenzies that the plan to rob the bank was
started.
Eudora had refused to furnish him with the money he asked for, and
Granger suggested that they should get it at the bank. It was agreed
upon, and they made all their calculations at once. A confederate was
secured by Granger, and the two men had the boldness to come to Locust
Cottage and ask to see Albert.
Eudora dared not refuse them, but, suspecting some villainy, she
listened to the interview, and thus became aware of the intended
burglary. It was arranged that Granger and Sterling should enter the
bank, silence me, if I was disposed to be troublesome, and pass the gold
out to Albert.
Eudora said that much as she felt it her duty to warn me, she did not
know as she would have had the courage had it not been that she
believed, according to their plan, that Albert would be out of danger.
Did she say nothing of her discovery to her brother, do you ask?
She said that she went down on her knees to him, and besought him to
give up the mad scheme; and he told her that if she ever lisped another
word to him on the matter it should cost her her life.
She was weeping when she finished, but presently she grew calm.
She was going away, she said, as soon as she could arrange for the
change, where no one who knew her would ever see her again.
She looked so distant and so cold, when she said so, that she froze the
passionate words that sprang to my lips. I rose to take my leave, and
she just touched her fingers to the hand I extended, and said good-by as
calmly as she would have said good night.
Just outside the door, I discovered that I had left my glove. I went
back softly. I saw her holding it to her lips.
The next moment I had her in my arms, and I was telling her, in some
unstudied words, that I loved her, and that I would never let her go
anywhere.
She was very hard to convince. If I had been less in earnest than I was,
I should have lost her; but I threw my whole soul into the work, and by
and by she confessed that she did love me; that she had loved me a long
time.
After that I did not care for the obstacles she raised. Dear, little,
conscientious thing! She thought it would be wicked for her to disgrace
me by becoming my wife because her brother had tried to rob a bank.
But I am a very determined man, and I would not let her out of my arms
until she promised all I asked of her.
That day month I married her.
People talked about it, but Dora and I were happy enough to be able to
afford to let them talk. Probably they felt easier after it.
A SMART BOY.
The power loom was the invention of a farmer’s boy, who had never seen
or heard of such a thing. He fashioned one with his penknife, and, when
he got it all done, he showed it with great enthusiasm to his father,
who at once kicked it all to pieces, saying he would have no boy about
him who would spend his time on such foolish things. The boy was sent to
a blacksmith to learn a trade, and his master took a lively interest in
him.
He made a loom of what was left of the one his father had broken up, and
showed it to his master. The blacksmith saw he had no common boy as an
apprentice, and that the invention was a valuable one. He had a loom
constructed under the supervision of the boy. It worked to their perfect
satisfaction, and the blacksmith furnished the means to manufacture the
looms, and the boy received half the profits.
In about a year the blacksmith wrote to the boy’s father that he should
bring with him a wealthy gentleman, who was the inventor of the
celebrated power loom.
You may be able to judge of the astonishment at the old home when his
son was presented to him as the inventor, who told him that the loom was
the same as the model that he had kicked to pieces the previous year.
A BABOON WITH A BRAIN.
In the Transvaal some of the fruit gardens are much exposed to the
ravages of large cynocephalic apes, and a good guard has to be kept, or
the results of long labor would be lost. In some of those gardens grow
certain shrubs which are much affected by wasps, the insects liking to
attach thereto their nests.
These wasps, though small, have a very venomous sting. Baboons had often
been noticed eying with envious glances the fast-ripening fruit in one
certain garden, but feared to gather for fear of attracting the assaults
of the wasps.
One morning the farmer heard terrible cries, and, with the aid of a good
field glass he witnessed the following tragedy: A large, venerable
baboon, chief of the band, was catching the younger apes and pitching
them into the shrubs whereon hung the wasps’ nests. This he repeated
again and again, in spite of the most piteous cries from his victims.
Of course, the wasps assumed the defensive in swarms. During this part
of the performance the old brute quietly fed on the fruit, deigning
occasionally to throw fragmentary remains to some female and young
baboons a little farther off.
THE NEWS OF ALL NATIONS.
How Missouri River Lowers Land Surfaces.
The Missouri River carries more silt than any other large river in the
United States, except possibly the Rio Grande and the Colorado. It
gathers annually from the country that it drains more than 123,000,000
tons of silt and soluble matter, some of which it distributes over the
flood plains below to form productive agricultural lands, but most of
which finds its way at last to the Gulf of Mexico.
It is by means of data of this kind that geologists compute the rate at
which the lands are being worn away. It has been shown the Missouri
River is lowering the surface of the land drained by it at the rate of
one foot in 6,036 years. The surface of the United States as a whole is
now being worn down at the rate of one foot in 9,120 years.
It has been estimated that if this erosive action of the streams of the
United States could have been concentrated on the Isthmus of Panama, it
would have dug in seventy-three days the canal which has just been
completed after ten years’ work, with the most powerful appliances yet
devised by man.
Boy’s Life Like Fiction.
Like a romance reads the tale of Benny Wittig, picked up as Eddy Sires
by the police several days ago, and the happy climax of the story came
in his restoration to his mother, Mrs. Frank Hitchcock, of Peoria, Ill.
The story begins with the death of Judge Wittig, near Latham, Ill.,
eleven years ago. His wife was sick, and misfortune had followed him, so
that all he had was mortgaged and seized for debt. His two sons, Benny,
aged six, and Louis, aged nine, were placed in the Lutheran
Kinderfreund. Benny was adopted by a family named Sires, while Louis was
taken by a family living near Nashville, Ill.
The Sires family went to Kentucky, tired of the boy, and abandoned him
in the town of Somerset. The youngster beat his way by hook or crook to
the Far West, and his first recollection of places he visited is of Los
Angeles, Cal. Afterward he lived for over a year in Salt Lake City,
where he attended school. He found other friends in Denver, and attended
school there, also. It was while beating his way back to Kentucky to
find his supposed parents--Sires--that he happened into Peoria. The
police suspected that the handsome seventeen-year-old boy was a runaway,
and detained him while investigating.
His story, though it seemed improbable, interested Chief Rhoades, who
communicated with the police at Somerset and is awaiting a reply.
Meantime the story got into the city papers, and Mrs. Inez Ware and Miss
Josephine Hitchcock, sister and half sister of the boy, called at police
headquarters and identified him as Benny Wittig. In the good old
storybook way, a scar on his neck established his identity, although the
striking resemblance between the ladies and the boy is so great that it
alone is convincing.
The mother, Mrs. Wittig, had married Frank Hitchcock and moved to
Peoria. She is now partially paralyzed. She had made inquiries and put
forth every effort she could to find her boys, and was successful in
locating Louis, the eldest, who had led a dog’s life as a bound boy. He
had learned that his name was Wittig, and in a Decatur paper had read of
the marriage of a Mrs. Wittig and Hitchcock. He wrote to her on the
chance of her being his mother, and their relationship was established.
He now conducts a prosperous garage.
Benny is now seventeen years old. He has been a wanderer for nine of the
intervening years since his father’s death, and the chain of happenings
that have restored him to his mother is one that is read of in works of
fiction, but seldom in real life.
Red and Green Light Tests.
It is strange how the color of a light makes it more or less visible,
irrespective of its actual brilliancy. To test this, place two lights of
the same color--two candles of the same size will do--in two tin boxes,
and in each box perforate a pinhole. Cover one pinhole with green glass
and one with red, and place them in a perfectly dark room.
To a normal person the green light will appear five times brighter when
viewed obliquely than when viewed directly, but the red light behaves in
the opposite way. Most people will pick up the green light when looking
in some other direction and will be quite conscious of its presence, but
when they turn their eyes directly toward it, they will not see it at
all. The faint red light, on the other hand, will not be noticed at all
until looked at directly, then it appears quite bright, but the instant
the eyes are turned away from it it is gone.
New Mosquito Eradicator.
A genius of Jackson, Miss., has invented an electric motor which is to
act as a mosquito exterminator. His plan is to have his motor revolve at
just the right speed to make a humming noise like that of buzzing
mosquitoes. That attracts all the insects in the neighborhood, and, as
the motor is surrounded with a metal screen, charged with a powerful
current, the mosquitoes alighting on it are instantly electrocuted.
Nonskid Banana Peel Discovered.
According to a news item wired from San Francisco, we are soon to have
with us what one writer calls “the nonskid banana peel.” The edible
interior remains about the same as the ordinary kind, we are told, but
the new covering presents a new boon to humanity that should make its
discoverer famous, if not wealthy. The genius who is said to be able to
produce a nice large banana with a coat like sandpaper is one Frederick
Boegle, employed at the Burbank experiment farm near Hayward, Cal.
The discoverer of the so-called “nonskid peel,” as a casing for the
delectable contents guaranteed to be found inside, explains that the new
fruit was obtained by crossing the ordinary banana with the cactus pear.
Boegle says the new fruit has the usual delicious taste of banana, but
that the peeling may be dropped on the sidewalk with perfect safety to
pedestrians.
If this is the precise case, then the peeling must be “nonskid” on the
inside as well as the outer, but this is not to be considered, says a
_Blade_ expert, as it is contrary to all horticultural laws, past or
present. Therefore, he says, if the “nonskid peel” happens to be dropped
with the “nonskid” side downward, then the same old, treacherous,
greasy, deadly, never-failing, calamitous thing will no doubt bring down
its victims as it has always done since the Duke of Plazzatora, away
back in the days and voyages of Christopher Columbus, discovered the
banana and also that by craftily laying a strip of its covering in the
way of Don Frijolo de Mountebank, he could rid himself of a powerful
rival and thus get closer to the new world’s discoverer as well as to
the beautiful and charming Donna Isabella de Mendoza, back there in
Spain.
But time will tell.
Boy Banjoist, Local Wonder.
Little Victor Vanover is the champion banjoist of the “neck o’ the
woods” at Freeling, Va. Though Victor is a mere midget, and has passed
only his seventh milepost on the road of life, he can handle his banjo
with all the grace and dexterity that ordinarily comes through years of
practice, and, what is more to the young musician’s credit, he takes up
the instrument in a perfectly natural way, and without any apparent
desire to “show off,” and he is well aware of both his powers and
limitations.
Victor began to practice at the age of five with a natural aptitude, and
now he can “pick” any tune that he has ever heard, and that, too, with a
clearness that would almost put to shame many professional banjoists.
Among the tunes that he can pick may be mentioned: “Cumberland Gap,”
“Old Joe Clark,” “Casey Jones,” “The Blind Coon Dog,” “The Ship That
Never Returned,” “Sourwood Mountain,” “The Gambling Man,” “New River
Train,” and “Walking in the Parlor.”
Quicksand Devours Big Plant.
Three laborers were killed and eight injured as they fled in terror to
solid earth when quicksand devoured the big plant and three surrounding
acres of land of the Knickerbocker Cement Co., at Greenport, not far
from Hudson, N. Y. Here is a list of what was swallowed by the vortex:
A large power house.
An eighty-foot concrete smokestack.
A concrete storehouse.
A large frame barn which held three horses and an automobile, all of
which were buried.
A huge quantity of material, including forty thousand tons of trap rock.
Nick Altrock a Laugh Maker.
Nick Altrock, who, since the departure of Arlie Latham and “Germany”
Schaeffer for other fields, is the only diamond clown remaining with the
main show, forced a big laugh in the frolic between the Yanks and the
Senators in New York not long ago, when an injury to a player threatened
to cast a gloom over the festivities.
Fisher and several other Yankees started to run Shanks down between
second and third, and the pitcher finally dashed up behind the runner
and slammed him on the back with the clenched ball. The pellet happened
to strike Shanks on the spine, and he crumpled up and dropped in his
tracks.
As he was being revived, and the spectators were on tiptoes to know the
extent of his hurt, Nick rushed upon the field, hit himself on the head,
and pretended to fall unconscious. He picked himself up when his
teammate revived, and staggered toward the bench with him. The
performance broke the strain, made everybody laugh, and both Senators
were cheered throughout the stands.
Summer and Winter Butter.
Scientific experiments have demonstrated that, contrary to the general
belief, the yellow color of cream and butter is not necessarily an
indication of their richness. It was discovered long ago that most
vegetable matter contains a yellow substance called carotin, because it
exists abundantly in carrots.
It is this substance contained in the cow’s feed that gives rise to the
color of milk and butter. Carotin is most abundant in the green forage
available in spring and summer so that milk and butter produced then are
more yellow than in the winter, although the percentage of fat in winter
milk often is actually higher than in the rich-looking product obtained
in summer.
Lightning Throws Bugler.
Lightning struck the projecting room of a motion-picture show in the
brigade camp of the Sixth United States Infantry, at Douglas, Ariz.,
during a recent violent electrical storm. The bolt was deflected into
the officers’ section, throwing several of them down. Musician Greenspan
was hit while in the act of blowing taps. He was thrown several feet,
his head finally resting in a bucket of tar. His bugle was destroyed.
Bitten by Huge Water Snake.
Emil Nichau, an assistant in the office of City Engineer Wager, at
Sandusky, Ohio, was bitten three times on the right hand by a large
water snake while he was gathering lilies in the Black Channel section,
between Cedar Point and West Huron. While he was quite sick for some
time, he had fully recovered a few hours later.
The snake was killed. It measured fifty-two inches in length and nine
and one-half inches in circumference at the thickest part of its body.
Can’t Stop This Swimmer.
Incased in a straitjacket and carrying fifteen pounds of iron chain as a
sort of extra ballast, Henry Elionsky swam from the Battery, New York,
to Bay Ridge. The distance was about five miles and the time was two
hours and forty minutes.
Elionsky was helped by the rushing tide. He had several narrow escapes
from the harbor craft, and once a tugboat came within thirty feet of
running him down.
Robber Chief Gets Twenty-five Years.
Henry Starr, of Chandler, Okla., pleaded guilty to bank robbery in the
district court, and was sentenced to twenty-five years in the
penitentiary. He was charged with the robbery of two banks at Stroud,
Okla., into which he led his gang last March and took five thousand
dollars. Starr was wounded and four of his men--Claude Sawyer, “Bud”
Maxfield, Charles Johnson, and Louis Estes--were captured.
Starr’s life has been full of action. He has made rich hauls in bank,
robberies, engaged in the looting of trains, battled with posses seeking
to arrest him, aided in quelling a jail outbreak, and unsuccessfully
tried to reform following a pardon by President Roosevelt in 1903.
Highway Built in One Day.
When ten thousand volunteer workers, engaged in the construction of an
interstate highway between Paducah, Ky., and Memphis, Tenn., laid down
their picks at six o’clock at night, they had completed, in its most
important details, the entire roadway for 150 miles.
To put the finishing touches to that section of the road from Paducah to
the Kentucky State line, work was continued the next day. Congressmen,
judges, city and county officials along the line of the highway were
among the most active workers. Dinner was served by the women of the
various cities and towns along the route.
Joe Shugrue’s Eyes Better.
Joe Shugrue, the Jersey City lightweight boxer, recovered his sight and
will go on the stage. He made up his mind that he might as well use his
dramatic talent while he gives his eyes plenty of time to recover from
the operation performed on them some months ago.
Sees Black Cat is Injured.
Black-cat superstition has been thoroughly confirmed, for, when James
Jensen, of St. Paul, Minn., was bowling down the residence district on a
motor cycle, a black cat crossed just in front of him. One moment later
he crashed into the rear of Ed Fisher’s automobile.
Police and physicians are caring for Jensen, and he is going to look for
the cat.
Polecat is Basely Libeled.
Some one has said that the polecat never takes a bath, and that he is
afraid of water. He is wrong, and Doctor D. O. Norton, of Fort Collins,
Col., is ready to prove the assertion. He recently returned from a
fishing trip in North Park, where he tempted the rainbow in the Platte.
One morning his attention was attracted to six young animals which were
playing on a sand bar a short distance away. A careful observation
disclosed that they were of the genus skunk.
With “safety first” uppermost in his mind, the doctor crawled cautiously
to a point of vantage, from which he could watch the animals more
closely, and declares that after they had apparently tired of play, all
six ran to the water and swam out into the swift current as though they
had been so many ducks.
Trouble with His Turtles.
Chickens come home to roost, and so do turtles. A few days ago there
were eight turtles in the basin around the fountain in the center of
Commercial Park, at Columbus, Ind. A big snapping turtle declared war on
the fish in the basin. The turtle killed a three-pound bass, and the
little turtles “chewed up” several sunfish. Then Preston Shaw, park
custodian, fished out the turtles, gave each of them a swift kick, and
told them never to return.
Interval of several days to change reels.
Then came one of the exiled turtles, snooping around the wall that
surrounds the basin, and saw no welcome sign. But that made no
difference to the turtle. It finally scaled the wall, dropped into the
water with a contented “plunk,” and was home again. However, the
custodian found the turtle before it had time to take a nap. He yanked
it out, gave it two swift kicks this time, and threatened to use harsh
words if it comes back again.
Lineman Battles Big Eagle.
Walter B. Sutton, of Bridgeton, N. J., a telephone lineman, while at
work on a pole in the country near here, was attacked by a large eagle.
Sutton saw the bird coming, and, as it swooped, he withdrew his hooks
and quickly slid to the ground. The eagle followed and attacked him
savagely.
Sutton had only his bare hands to defend himself and beat off the bird
as best he could until finding a large stone, with which he was able to
stun the bird with a well-directed blow. Grasping it by the neck, he
choked it until it was helpless, and, taking it to his automobile, wired
it fast, so that he could handle it safely.
He brought the big bird to his home, and now has it in a coop. It
measures seven feet from tip to tip.
Blind Telephone Operator.
Despite total blindness, K. S. Thompson, of Erie, Ill., is an efficient
telephone operator. He says it is much easier for him to hold his
position than it was for him to get it in the first place, the telephone
company having been doubtful as to his ability to make good.
Thompson overcomes his handicap by a very keen sense of hearing and by
some added touches to his exchange equipment. In “plugging in” he
depends upon brass points along a special designation strip. Sense of
touch makes it possible for him to perceive which line he is plugging in
on, and it is said that he makes fewer mistakes than are made by the
usual full-visioned operator.
The blind operator takes much interest in his work and is constantly
striving to improve his service.
No Border for United States Flag.
The recent display of an American flag with a white border around it, by
a society at Fort Dodge, Iowa, promoting world peace, caused Attorney
General Cosson to issue instructions to the Fort Dodge authorities to
take action if the display is repeated.
Attorney General Cosson instructed the Fort Dodge authorities to invoke
the law against mutilation of the flag, if it became necessary.
Birthday Party for a Horse.
Mrs. M. K. Grant, one of the wealthiest women in Wilmington, Del., gave
a party in honor of the fourteenth birthday of her pet carriage horse,
Prince Grant. The affair took place in the stable, where a luncheon was
served to the stablemen, the household servants of the Grant family
being at their command. An orchestra furnished music.
The horse, a roan gelding, with a trotting record of 2:23¼ has been in
possession of Mrs. Grant since it was a colt. Prince Grant shared in
the celebration to the extent of eating four plates of ice cream, six
pieces of cake, and a box of candy. He was gayly decorated with ribbons.
Every year, since the horse was three years old, Mrs. Grant has
celebrated his birthday.
Boy Adopted by Nine Mothers.
Every one has heard of a cat with nine lives. But did any one ever hear
of a boy with nine mothers?
Los Angeles has one. His name is Charles Fulmer. Here’s the why and
wherefore:
Fulmer recently finished Manual Arts High School. His teachers say they
can see in him the budding genius who will, some day, give to the world
great, new discoveries in medicine and surgery.
But he has none other than himself to whom to look, or he didn’t have
until the City Mothers of Los Angeles--nine of ’em--adopted him.
City Mother Mrs. Bret Harte Harris, one of the nine, is so sure their
protégé is worth troubling about, she has voluntarily set about seeking
a position for him that will help him to secure the wherewithal and the
time to pursue his studies. All the other City Mothers are lending first
aid.
This adoption scheme is just one of a thousand humanitarian acts which
the City Mothers’ bureau of Los Angeles has put into effect in its
effort to aid the young people of the city in any way within its power.
Conductor Fights Hobos.
This is the story of how L. G. Moyer, conductor, of Fairbury, Neb.,
cleaned up a bunch of hobos and compelled several of them to seek local
physicians for repairs:
When Passenger No. 8 pulled out for the East, probably fifty “sons of
rest” attempted to ride out, but part of them were forced to get off
while the others hid and made their get-away. The first section of
ninety-four, of which Moyer was conductor, was due out for Council
Bluffs at six o’clock, but did not start until eleven o’clock.
About twenty-five hobos got in a box car. The train stopped at the
main-line switch, and Moyer got in the car and ordered the tramps out.
They offered resistance, and he cleaned up the bunch with an iron brake
rod in a very short time.
The tramps had given the train crews all kinds of grief recently. Every
outgoing crew has had trouble ridding the train from ten to one hundred
of these passengers. This last bunch are bitter toward Moyer, and
declare they will remain here until they kill him.
Takes Hikes Barefooted.
Eugene Willard, of Chelsea, Mass., easily is the champion barefoot
walker of the United States. A dozen years ago Willard decided to take
up barefoot pedestrianism as a pastime, and has kept at it ever since.
Of course, he occasionally gets out his shoes, brushes off the dust
which has accumulated on them, and puts them on, but he doesn’t keep
them on any longer than is absolutely necessary.
“Barefoot Gene,” as he is known in his home city, has made some long
barefoot walks. One of those was between Philadelphia, Pa., and St.
Louis, Mo., and at another time he covered the entire distance between
Savannah, Ga., and Tampa, Fla. He has under consideration a barefoot
walk between Boston, Mass., and El Paso, Texas.
In Prison Twenty-one Years, Weds.
After serving twenty-one years in the Joliet Penitentiary, William
Roach, paroled last week, is on his honeymoon. Roach was sent up for
murder. Toward the latter part of his sentence he became a “trusty.” As
trusty he was allowed to visit the town. On one of his visits he met
Hannah Edwards, who worked in the restaurant owned by her mother, Mrs.
William Edwards.
Although Roach never knew that he would be free, he was unable to keep
from falling in love. Once a week he saw Hannah, and then the
authorities decided that he had been in prison long enough. Roach was
paroled. He came back to Chicago, and went to his old home in Wilmette.
And then he returned to Joliet for Hannah. They were married by the
Reverend T. de Witt Tanner.
Shot Stealing Bread for Starving Family.
Shot twice through the body as he was attempting to steal a loaf of
bread from the rear gallery of the home of Joseph Haseman, John Reou, of
New Orleans, La., was rushed to the Charity Hospital. From his hospital
cot he explained the motive for the attempted theft.
“My eight children were crying all night for food,” he said. “I listened
to their sobs until I could not bear their suffering any longer. So I
went out to steal them a loaf of bread.”
Haseman, who is a street-car conductor, did the shooting. He has been
arrested. The police say the case is the most pitiful that has come
under their notice in several years. The charge against Reou will
probably be dropped.
One of the bullets Haseman fired at the father of eight hungry children
struck him in the right arm and another in the left side. Neither of the
wounds is considered serious.
Reou, now broken in health and spirits, married twenty-one years ago. He
has always borne a good reputation, which is vouched for by several
members of the police department who know him and by friends and former
employers. Recently he lost his position as a clerk in a grocery store
because his eyesight was failing and his health was broken. He tried
many times to get work, and failed. Gradually the small sum saved by him
and his wife was gone.
His oldest daughter, Julia, aged twenty, got a position which pays her
six dollars a week. Charles, his oldest son, aged sixteen, took a
position as office boy, and earns two and one-half dollars a week.
Olivia, another daughter, aged twelve, receives a half dollar a week for
helping a dressmaker. The house they live in costs them twelve dollars
per month.
Pay as You Wish
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keep their dazzling fire forever. Set in solid gold. Cut by world
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[Illustration]
The Nick Carter Stories
ISSUED EVERY SATURDAY BEAUTIFUL COLORED COVERS
When it comes to detective stories worth while, the =Nick Carter Stories=
contain the only ones that should be considered. They are not overdrawn
tales of bloodshed. They rather show the working of one of the finest
minds ever conceived by a writer. The name of Nick Carter is familiar
all over the world, for the stories of his adventures may be read in
twenty languages. No other stories have withstood the severe test of
time so well as those contained in the =Nick Carter Stories=. It proves
conclusively that they are the best. We give herewith a list of some of
the back numbers in print. You can have your news dealer order them, or
they will be sent direct by the publishers to any address upon receipt
of the price in money or postage stamps.
730--The Torn Card.
731--Under Desperation’s Spur.
732--The Connecting Link.
733--The Abduction Syndicate.
738--A Plot Within a Plot.
739--The Dead Accomplice.
746--The Secret Entrance.
747--The Cavern Mystery.
748--The Disappearing Fortune.
749--A Voice from the Past.
752--The Spider’s Web.
753--The Man With a Crutch.
754--The Rajah’s Regalia.
755--Saved from Death.
756--The Man Inside.
757--Out for Vengeance.
758--The Poisons of Exili.
759--The Antique Vial.
760--The House of Slumber.
761--A Double Identity.
762--“The Mocker’s” Stratagem.
763--The Man that Came Back.
764--The Tracks in the Snow.
765--The Babbington Case.
766--The Masters of Millions.
767--The Blue Stain.
768--The Lost Clew.
770--The Turn of a Card.
771--A Message in the Dust.
772--A Royal Flush.
774--The Great Buddha Beryl.
775--The Vanishing Heiress.
776--The Unfinished Letter.
777--A Difficult Trail.
782--A Woman’s Stratagem.
783--The Cliff Castle Affair.
784--A Prisoner of the Tomb.
785--A Resourceful Foe.
789--The Great Hotel Tragedies.
795--Zanoni, the Transfigured.
796--The Lure of Gold.
797--The Man With a Chest.
798--A Shadowed Life.
799--The Secret Agent.
800--A Plot for a Crown.
801--The Red Button.
802--Up Against It.
803--The Gold Certificate.
804--Jack Wise’s Hurry Call.
805--Nick Carter’s Ocean Chase.
807--Nick Carter’s Advertisement.
808--The Kregoff Necklace.
811--Nick Carter and the Nihilists.
812--Nick Carter and the Convict Gang.
813--Nick Carter and the Guilty Governor.
814--The Triangled Coin.
815--Ninety-nine--and One.
816--Coin Number 77.
NEW SERIES
NICK CARTER STORIES
1--The Man from Nowhere.
2--The Face at the Window.
3--A Fight for a Million.
4--Nick Carter’s Land Office.
5--Nick Carter and the Professor.
6--Nick Carter as a Mill Hand.
7--A Single Clew.
8--The Emerald Snake.
9--The Currie Outfit.
10--Nick Carter and the Kidnapped Heiress.
11--Nick Carter Strikes Oil.
12--Nick Carter’s Hunt for a Treasure.
13--A Mystery of the Highway.
14--The Silent Passenger.
15--Jack Dreen’s Secret.
16--Nick Carter’s Pipe Line Case.
17--Nick Carter and the Gold Thieves.
18--Nick Carter’s Auto Chase.
19--The Corrigan Inheritance.
20--The Keen Eye of Denton.
21--The Spider’s Parlor.
22--Nick Carter’s Quick Guess.
23--Nick Carter and the Murderess.
24--Nick Carter and the Pay Car.
25--The Stolen Antique.
26--The Crook League.
27--An English Cracksman.
28--Nick Carter’s Still Hunt.
29--Nick Carter’s Electric Shock.
30--Nick Carter and the Stolen Duchess.
31--The Purple Spot.
32--The Stolen Groom.
33--The Inverted Cross.
34--Nick Carter and Keno McCall.
35--Nick Carter’s Death Trap.
36--Nick Carter’s Siamese Puzzle.
37--The Man Outside.
38--The Death Chamber.
39--The Wind and the Wire.
40--Nick Carter’s Three Cornered Chase.
41--Dazaar, the Arch-Fiend.
42--The Queen of the Seven.
43--Crossed Wires.
44--A Crimson Clew.
45--The Third Man.
46--The Sign of the Dagger.
47--The Devil Worshipers.
48--The Cross of Daggers.
49--At Risk of Life.
50--The Deeper Game.
51--The Code Message.
52--The Last of the Seven.
53--Ten-Ichi, the Wonderful.
54--The Secret Order of Associated Crooks.
55--The Golden Hair Clew.
56--Back From the Dead.
57--Through Dark Ways.
58--When Aces Were Trumps.
59--The Gambler’s Last Hand.
60--The Murder at Linden Fells.
61--A Game for Millions.
62--Under Cover.
63--The Last Call.
64--Mercedes Danton’s Double.
65--The Millionaire’s Nemesis.
66--A Princess of the Underworld.
67--The Crook’s Blind.
68--The Fatal Hour.
69--Blood Money.
70--A Queen of Her Kind.
71--Isabel Benton’s Trump Card.
72--A Princess of Hades.
73--A Prince of Plotters.
74--The Crook’s Double.
75--For Life and Honor.
76--A Compact With Dazaar.
77--In the Shadow of Dazaar.
78--The Crime of a Money King.
79--Birds of Prey.
80--The Unknown Dead.
81--The Severed Hand.
82--The Terrible Game of Millions.
83--A Dead Man’s Power.
84--The Secrets of an Old House.
85--The Wolf Within.
86--The Yellow Coupon.
87--Tn the Toils.
88--The Stolen Radium.
89--A Crime in Paradise.
90--Behind Prison Bars.
91--The Blind Man’s Daughter.
92--On the Brink of Ruin.
93--Letter of Fire.
94--The $100,000 Kiss.
95--Outlaws of the Militia.
96--The Opium-Runners.
97--In Record Time.
98--The Wag-Nuk Clew.
99--The Middle Link.
100--The Crystal Maze.
101--A New Serpent in Eden.
102--The Auburn Sensation.
103--A Dying Chance.
104--The Gargoni Girdle.
105--Twice in Jeopardy.
106--The Ghost Launch.
107--Up in the Air.
108--The Girl Prisoner.
109--The Red Plague.
110--The Arson Trust.
111--The King of the Firebugs.
112--“Lifter’s” of the Lofts.
113--French Jimmie and His Forty Tiheves.
114--The Death Plot.
115--The Evil Formula.
116--The Blue Button.
117--The Deadly Parallel.
118--The Vivisectionists.
119--The Stolen Brain.
120--An Uncanny Revenge.
121--The Call of Death.
122--The Suicide.
123--Half a Million Ransom.
124--The Girl Kidnapper.
125--The Pirate Yacht.
126--The Crime of the White Band.
127--Found in the Jungle.
128--Six Men in a Loop.
129--The Jewels of Wat Chang.
130--The Crime in the Tower.
131--The Fatal Message.
132--Broken Bars.
133--Won by Magic.
134--The Secret of Shangore.
135--Straight to the Goal.
136--The Man They Held Back.
137--The Seal of Gijon.
138--The Traitors of the Tropics.
139--The Pressing Peril.
140--The Melting-Pot.
141--The Duplicate Night.
142--The Edge of a Crime.
143--The Sultan’s Pearls.
144--The Clew of the White Collar.
145--An Unsolved Mystery.
146--Paying the Price.
147--On Death’s Trail.
148--The Mark of Cain.
Dated July 17th, 1915.
149--A Network of Crime.
Dated July 24th, 1915.
150--The House of Fear.
Dated July 31st, 1915.
151--The Mystery of the Crossed Needles.
Dated August 7th, 1915.
152--The Forced Crime.
Dated August 14th, 1915.
153--The Doom of Sang Tu.
Dated August 21st, 1915.
154--The Mask of Death.
Dated August 28th, 1915.
155--The Gordon Elopement.
Dated Sept. 4th, 1915.
156--Blood Will Tell.
=PRICE, FIVE CENTS PER COPY.= If you want any back numbers of our
weeklies and cannot procure them from your news dealer, they can be
obtained direct from this office. Postage stamps taken the same as
money.
STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Ave., NEW YORK CITY