CHAPTER IX.

THE LAST TRAIL.

There was a very good reason for Chick Carter’s disappearance from the

suite in which Nick had left him. The designs of the latter in leaving,

after hearing with the dictograph the interview between Chadwick and

Gammon, must be perfectly obvious. It was a simple thing for Nick to

hasten home and return in a disguise such as Gammon had described.

Nick also had in mind, of course, to arrest the genuine Mr. Pimlico the

moment he put in an appearance.

The instinctive caution of Stuart Floyd, however, when venturing out of

haunts in which he felt comparatively safe, prevented this second design

of Nick Carter, or briefly postponed and transferred it to another

quarter, and also occasioned the sudden disappearance of Chick.

For Floyd did not take the elevator after entering the Oriental Hotel,

nor did he enter the house through the front door. He came in through a

side door, then stole up the stairs to the third floor, seeking the

corridor and door to which Gammon had directed him.

He came so quietly that Chick Carter did not hear him until the rascal

was nearly to the door of the Englishman’s suite--and at the same moment

Floyd caught sight of a slender wire glistening on the threshold.

There was no need to tell Stuart Floyd what it was, nor did he stop to

learn whither it ran.

He turned like a flash and darted toward the main stairway of the hotel,

down which he fled at top speed, tearing off his disguise while he sped

down the stair and thrusting it into his pocket.

Chick Carter had caught sight of him, however, and instantly guessed the

truth.

“He’s wise, by thunder, and knows we’re on his trail,” flashed through

Chick’s mind. “But in getting him, I must get the others, also. I’ll

take the other course.”

Chick did not stop to inform Nick what had occurred. He rushed to the

side stairway at the end of the corridor, and flew down each flight at

record speed, bent upon picking up Floyd when he emerged from the front

of the house.

Though he came near being too late, his tremendous efforts proved

successful. He caught sight of Floyd running across the avenue on which

the house fronted, and then darting into a cross street leading toward

the East Side.

“I’ll get you now, by Jove,” Chick muttered, with eyes alert. “If you

give me the slip this night, you shall have a medal.”

Floyd, seeming to feel reasonably safe when well away from the hotel,

slowed down in order not to attract attention. Several times he looked

back, however, but could discover no one following him.

Chick was steadily gaining on him, nevertheless, and before a block had

been covered he met a policeman.

“Here, Grady, one moment,” he said sharply.

The officer recognized him instantly, for Chick had removed his

disguise.

“Oh, it’s you, Mr. Carter,” said he, touching his helmet.

“Yes,” said Chick quickly. “I’m on the track of a crook, Stuart Floyd.”

“The deuce you say!”

“I may need you and others to pull a gang. Follow me at a short distance

and pick up help as you come along. Don’t lose sight of me.”

“Not on your life,” said Grady, with eyes beginning to glow.

“Join me at once, if you see me wave my arm.”

“I’ve got you, sir.”

There had been only a momentary stop, and Chick had not for an instant

lost sight of his man.

Floyd was fifty yards ahead of the detective, and on the opposite side

of the street. He no longer was hurrying greatly. He seemed to feel that

he had got safely away.

Chick crept on after him, steadily gaining.

Grady had a constant eye on Chick and cautiously followed him. Presently

he picked up another policeman, and a moment later a plain-clothes man

from the precinct station.

All followed Chick, hugging the buildings they were passing.

Five minutes later, Chick saw Floyd stop suddenly in front of an old

wooden house. It was that in which Hogan dwelt with his wife.

Floyd, when about to enter, heard a terrible crash in the rear yard,

and then a window thrown open and a roar from Baldy Gammon.

Instead of entering the house, Floyd rushed through the alley and into

the little back yard.

Hogan and Gammon came tearing down a back stairway and joined him.

“What’s wrong? What the devil’s wrong?” Floyd demanded, yanking a search

lamp from his pocket.

“A spy! A spy at that window,” cried Hogan, pointing. “He’s fell through

this door and gone into the cellar.”

Chick Carter, waving his arm, had to wait only thirty seconds for his

three assistants to join him. He knew that he had rounded up his game.

“One of you watch this front door,” he directed, in whispers. “The

others follow me. Guns ready!”

Chick did not wait for an answer. He plunged through the alley, the

policemen after him, and arrived in the yard, a veritable rat trap, just

as Floyd switched on the electric light.

“Hands up!” Chick cried. “We’ve got you covered, Floyd. You, too,

Gammon! You’ll be dead ones if you show fight.”

The policemen were not idle while Chick spoke. Both bored in upon the

three cornered crooks, and Floyd and Gammon found themselves with

revolvers at their heads.

Hogan uttered a groan, and threw up his hands.

Patsy Garvan came crawling out of the cellar at the same moment, only a

bit bruised by his fall. He also had a gun in his hand--and that settled

it.

The arrest of the entire gang was easily made, and thirty minutes saw

all except Sir Edward Chadwick locked in the precinct station. Word then

was sent to Nick, who then turned his man over to the police, and the

case was practically ended.

For Lord Archie Waldmere was found confined in an ice box in the Hogan

cellar, not much the worse for his distressful experience, he having

been lured away and overcome precisely as Nick had deduced from the

surrounding circumstances.

It would be vain to attempt describing his gratitude to the Carters, as

well as that of his wife, or the amazement with which he learned of the

treachery of his uncle and the altered sentiments of his dying father.

It opened the way for him to a new life in England, or to a renewal of

the old, and he took it later with the willing consent of Lady Waldmere.

But neither ever forgot the Carters, or failed to visit them when in the

States.

Stuart Floyd went back to prison and died there six months later.

Others engaged in the conspiracy were punished in accord with the law,

and are behind prison bars to this day.

THE END.

“The Edge of a Crime; or, Nick Carter’s Trail of Mercy,” will be the

title of the long, complete story which will be found in the next issue,

No. 142, of the NICK CARTER Stories, out May 29th. You will also find

the usual interesting serial, short stories, and useful bits of

information.

Where’s the Commandant?

By C. C. WADDELL.

(This interesting story was commenced in No. 140 of NICK CARTER STORIES.

Back numbers can always be obtained from your news dealer or the

publishers.)

CHAPTER V.

THE SEVERED ROPES.

It was eight a. m. by the time Grail reached the fort, for he had

stopped on the way to submit to a chemist an envelope containing the

remnants of the decoy message. The chemist agreed with him thoroughly

that its disintegration must have been accomplished by means of

chemicals. He thought a mixture of certain acids, drying into the fiber

of the paper, would cause it rapidly to disintegrate and crumble to

dust, although he declined to commit himself definitely on the point

until he had made a complete analysis.

His theory, however, was all that Grail really cared for, since it

showed him that he was on the right track, and that the destruction of

the note was due to no accident or mischance, but was part of a

deliberate and premeditated plan--an incident to be duly reckoned with

in any investigation of the colonel’s disappearance.

Too thoroughly did he recognize his own limitations even to consider the

task of handling the business in person. But how was he to secure the

aid he required at the fort? If the army post has ramparts of privacy

against the world, there is little going on inside which does not become

generally known, and Grail had no sooner set foot on the reservation

than he sensed the same feeling of hostility and suspicion which had

manifested itself in the manner of the officers who met him at the

foundry the night before.

The challenge of the sentinel on post, the side glances of the enlisted

men, even the stiff salute of his own orderly, gave him to understand

that he was ostracized--under the ban as much in barracks as along

officers’ row. There was no open disrespect shown, but the very air was

full of a silent disapproval. He evidently had not a friend in the

place--no one upon whom he could call for help.

Outwardly calm, but inwardly raging at the injustice, he turned in at

headquarters--he would have starved rather than go over to the mess for

breakfast--and, in order to conceal his perturbation, buried himself in

the morning papers.

Staring fixedly at the headlines in the Brantford _Bee_, although

unconscious of a word, he was roused from his abstraction by a slight

cough, and glanced up, to find standing in front of him Sergeant Cato,

the relief telegraph operator, and a decidedly superior type of noncom.

Indeed, Cato had ambitions toward winning shoulder straps for himself,

and had been materially aided by Grail in his preparation for the

necessary examination.

There was no recognition of this now, however, in the stiff, distant

salute which he gave his superior.

“The list of messages sent out during the night, sir,” he said.

Evidently, thought Grail, he was only to be addressed in the strict line

of official duty. Even this man whom he had befriended reflected in his

manner the general uncompromising spirit.

Perfunctorily the adjutant took the slip handed him, and glanced at it.

Then he gave a quick start.

“To Miss Vedant, at Chicago!” he exclaimed, forgetting his determination

to be as stiffly military himself as any one accosting him. “And sent by

Major Appleby at two o’clock! Do you mean to say, Cato, that----”

The sergeant gave a slight sigh of relief, and noticeably unbent.

“Yes, sir,” he returned. “It was to inform her of her father’s

disappearance. I thought myself it was a mistake to frighten her, when

the thing’ll probably be cleared up before she can get here; but the

message was handed me for transmission, and what could I do?”

“So you expect the affair to be cleared up before Miss Vedant arrives,

eh?” Grail asked. “What makes you say that, sergeant?”

Cato flushed a trifle. “Well, sir, if I may make so bold, it’s because I

am banking on you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, sir.” He shifted his feet uneasily. “Excuse me, captain, if I go

too far; but it is a cinch, to my mind, that you’ll never rest easy

under this talk that’s going around.”

“You mean that there is a rumor that I am in some way responsible for

Colonel Vedant’s disappearance?”

Cato nodded. “That was what made me so sure the thing would be

straightened out,” he explained. “I knew you’d move heaven and earth

before you’d let a charge like that stand against you.”

Grail was silent a moment. “Is the fact of the colonel’s disappearance

pretty generally known among the men, sergeant?” he asked finally.

The other gave a significant shrug of the shoulders. “It’s the only

thing they’re talking about over in the barracks, sir.”

“And do many of them believe this gossip connecting my name with it?”

Cato’s reluctance to answer was more eloquent than words. “You know what

a bunch like that is, sir,” he said apologetically. “Let somebody tell

’em St. Peter is a crook, and they’ll be proving it to you in five

minutes. That’s what made me a bit standoffish when I came in just now,

captain. I knew you couldn’t help but be wise to the way the post is

feeling, and I didn’t want to seem to be handing you out any sympathy.”

An incredulous look flashed into the adjutant’s face, and he bent

quickly forward. “Am I to understand, then, sergeant, that you do not

entertain the same unfavorable opinion of me as the others?”

“Me, sir!” Cato’s tone was one of surprise. “What kind of a soft-brained

pup do you think I am, sir? You sell out to Japanese spies, and make

away with the old man? Why, Captain Grail, if you told me yourself that

you’d done it, I wouldn’t believe you--no, not if you swore to it! It’s

because I’m certain of your innocence, captain, that I’ve been so

positive the colonel would be found. Foolish as the charge is, you’ve

got to disprove it for your own sake; and, with that sort of a

proposition facing you, I knew you would manage to do it somehow. I only

wish,” he added, “that I could be of some help to you.”

The adjutant turned sharply about at the suggestion. Quick-witted,

discreet, diplomatic, and, above all, devoted to his cause, here was the

very helper for whom he had been seeking.

“Help me!” He sprang to his feet. “You can, sergeant. You can help me

enormously. Are you willing to put in a day or two of scout work for me,

following up what may seem to be a series of absurd and irrelevant

investigations, but asking no questions until you are through, or until

I see fit to enlighten you as to my purpose?”

“Try me!” said Cato, drawing himself up.

Grail studied for a moment the eager face of the young noncom in front

of him; then nodded his satisfaction.

“Good!” He drew from his pocket the stump of the cigarette he had found

outside Schilder’s office door, and showed it to the other. “You will

notice,” he said, “that this is an imported cigarette, not likely to be

found in the average tobacco shop. What I want you to do, therefore, is

to go, unostentatiously, through the saloons and small stationery stands

down on the river front, in the neighborhood of the Dolliver Foundry,

and find out for me, if possible, just where cigarettes of this kind are

kept in stock, and, if possible, learn the names of the customers who

have asked for them.”

The sergeant signified his comprehension. “And what else, sir?” he

asked, handing back the cigarette after a careful examination.

“I fancy,” Grail said, “that you will find your work pretty well cut out

for you along that one line. Still, you may have luck; and, in that

case, I would like to have you find out about a motor boat which arrived

yesterday, consigned to Otto Schilder.”

“You will want me to use a disguise of some kind in making my inquiries,

I suppose, sir?”

“Provided the disguise doesn’t make you too conspicuous--yes,” the

adjutant assented. “That was a point, however, that I intended leaving

largely to your own judgment. As a suggestion, though, it might be well,

if you could manage it, to play the part of a foreigner seeking a job at

the foundry--say, a Russian or a Pole.”

“I think I can manage it,” Cato returned. “Why, captain, taking off that

Russky dialect is my strong specialty. I used to work at a rolling mill

at Portsmouth, Ohio, where there was a whole bunch of them.” And, to

illustrate his powers, he dropped into an imitation which left no doubt

in Grail’s mind as to his ability to make good.

Accordingly, after a little further discussion, the sergeant started off

on his mission, while Grail, feeling as though a load had been removed

from his shoulders, hurried out to give orders for the inflation of the

dirigible balloon which formed a part of the equipment of the post. He

was the most enthusiastic aviator among the officers, and was regularly

permitted to take out the dirigible without going through the form of

making official application.

No one asked him the purpose or object he had in view. Silently, and

with eyes averted, the men obeyed his orders; and the officers all kept

distinctly aloof, although usually when there was a flight to be

undertaken a crowd was very quick to gather.

“Never mind,” Grail said to himself. “By to-morrow, if all goes well,

the tide will have turned, and they’ll be only too anxious to hear what

I have to say.”

The preparations completed, he climbed into the light framework under

the big, swaying bag, and was just about to give the order “Let go!”

when, casting a final glance about, he chanced to observe that two of

the cords which held up the car were badly frayed. Had a flight been

attempted with them in that condition there could hardly have failed to

be a serious accident.

Stopping his engine, Grail sprang to the ground, and faced the little

squad of men who had been helping him make ready.

“This machine was in perfect condition when it was brought out of the

hangar,” he remarked to them grimly, as he pointed to the almost severed

ropes. “Consequently one of you must be responsible for this damage.”

Then, as they hesitated, glancing uncertainly at one another, he took a

quick step forward, and caught up a sharp fragment of broken glass which

one of them--a new recruit by the name of Simmons--had attempted to drop

behind him.

“Ah!” he cried triumphantly. “I thought I would be able to smoke out the

culprit. Now we will have the corporal of the guard.”

He held the offender in a close grip until the corporal he summoned

arrived; then turned him over, with an injunction that he be held in

close confinement, and permitted to speak to no one, or send out any

word, until his own return.

Presently the weakened cords were replaced with new ones, under his

instructions, and everything was again in readiness for the flight.

It may seem strange that Grail did not immediately follow up so serious

an affair; but, as a matter of fact, he was so perturbed and puzzled by

the dastardly attempt on his life that he wanted a little time for

reflection. Was it merely the crazy freak of a simple-minded “rookie,”

or did the incident hold a deeper and more sinister significance? Could

it be a further development of the plot which had already resulted in

the colonel’s disappearance, and was Simmons merely a tool in the hands

of the secret conspirators?

Revolving these questions and many others in his mind, he gave the word

to cut loose, and a moment later he was hovering high up in the air

above the grassy parade ground. He turned the nose of his craft due

east, and, with his propeller whirring, flew away toward the river’s

long, crescentlike curve around the town.

The dirigible from Fort Denton was not an unusual sight aloft, and

consequently attracted but little attention from the people of the city;

but out at the post Grail’s flight was watched with curious interest.

Officers and men alike, although pretending indifference, laid aside

their duties to follow, with eager gaze, the evolutions of the airship.

They gained but little for their pains, however. Out over the line of

smoky chimneys marking the water front they saw him go; then sail in a

straight line across the river, where he turned to the south, and,

having executed a couple of wide circles over the wildernesslike bottoms

below the town, headed back for home. But as to his purpose they

gathered not the slightest intimation.

At that distance they could not discern that as he swept above the

weed-grown, bush-covered lowlands so frequently subject to overflow, he

leaned over in the car, and studied with the eye of the skilled

topographer every feature of the country beneath him.

Upon a tumble-down shack in a clump of stunted willows his gaze lingered

longest, and as he estimated its distance from the river, as well as

from the few other habitations which dotted the waste acres, his eye

showed a glint of satisfaction. Unwilling, however, to reveal by his

movements the nature of the survey he was making to any possible

watcher, he did not hang long over the spot, or descend for a closer

view, but contented himself with two rounds, at high altitude, as

already described, and beat back westward toward the fort.

With the wind against him, his return trip consumed more time than the

outgoing one, and it was well after noon when he finally effected a

skillful descent to the parade ground. He had been absent from the post

altogether a little over two hours.

“Has Sergeant Cato returned yet?” was the first question he asked as he

sprang from the car; but, receiving a sullen negative for answer, bent

his steps, as soon as he had seen the dirigible safely put away, toward

the guardhouse.

There he found himself confronted by Lieutenant Hemingway, who happened

to be acting as officer of the day. The younger man’s eyes fell, and he

showed his embarrassment by blushing painfully; but Grail was cool and

steady as a statue.

“I wish to speak to Private Simmons, placed under arrest by my orders,”

he said brusquely.

“Simmons?” Hemingway spoke rather superciliously. “Oh, yes--the man

brought in from the balloon squad. Why, he isn’t here. I heard that

there was only a slight disorderly charge against him, and I let him go

to his quarters.”

“You _heard!_” repeated Grail icily. “Didn’t you know the nature of the

accusation against him?”

The other manifested a shade of anxiety. “Why--er--no,” he stammered. “I

was not here, you see, when the fellow was brought in, and just as I

returned both the corporal and sergeant were called out by a fight over

at barracks.”

“And you did not consult the book before taking this step?”

“No,” Hemingway was obliged to confess. To tell the truth, he had deemed

it rather smart to set at liberty one whom he supposed to be merely a

victim of the adjutant’s ill humor; but now doubts began to assail him.

Hastily he caught up the record of offenders for the day, and noted the

charge entered opposite the name of Simmons; then fell back, with a

little gasp.

“Attempted murder!” he exclaimed. “Here, corporal! Sergeant! Somebody!

Hustle over to barracks, and bring back that man Simmons we had here a

while ago.”

But, as might have been expected, the bird had flown; and, although a

squad was instantly ordered out to search the city for him, and the

police were put upon the case, both Hemingway and Grail knew that with

so much of a start the chances of catching him were very slim indeed.

The culpable lieutenant, court-martial staring him in the face, started

to stammer some wild excuses; but Grail merely turned on his heel, and

marched off to his quarters. He had scored heavily over one of his

enemies, but he gathered little gratification from the fact. He would

have preferred a chance to question Simmons.

CHAPTER VI.

THE HAPPIEST GIRL.

Under the circumstances, there seemed to be nothing for Grail to do but

await with what patience he could muster the return of Sergeant Cato;

and as the afternoon slipped away with no report from the latter, he

threw himself on a couch in the office at headquarters and presently

drifted off into a dose. Worn out by his exertions, the strain he had

been under, and his loss of sleep the night before, he was soon wrapped

in a profound slumber; and, as nothing happened to disturb him, five

o’clock still found him sleeping heavily.

Meanwhile, the train from Chicago, bearing the distressed daughter of

the commandant, had arrived, and Major Appleby, who had gone down to

meet her, could only return a gloomy shake of the head to the unspoken

question of her wide, trouble-filled eyes.

“Don’t ask me anything now, my dear,” he said, in a low tone. “We are

trying to keep the matter quiet for the present, and you can’t tell who

might overhear us in this crowd. As soon as we get outside, though, you

shall learn all there is to know. Mrs. Schilder is waiting for us in her

car, and wants to take you to her home.”

“Mrs. Schilder?” The girl’s lips parted in a little gasp of surprise,

for she had only a very slight acquaintance with the wife of the foundry

manager.

“Yes,” the major explained. “Mrs. Appleby and I would have been

delighted to have you with us, but it seemed preferable that you should

not be at the fort, where you would be kept constantly upset by all

sorts of unfounded rumors. So, as Mrs. Schilder pointed out that you

would probably be more comfortable in her home than anywhere else, we

accepted her invitation on your behalf.”

Miss Vedant hesitated a moment, then gave a slight shrug, as though to

signify that it was a matter of indifference to her. Troubled and shaken

as she was, she was in no mood to protest against any arrangement they

might have made, and, anyway, it was too late now to draw back without

seeming ungracious, for the major, by this time, was conducting her out

through the tall, pillared entrance of the station, and she saw, a few

steps away across the plaza, Mrs. Schilder waiting for them in the

automobile.

Mrs. Schilder, modishly gowned, and undeniably beautiful, in a dark,

foreign style, greeted the girl with just the proper touch of

sympathetic restraint to put Meredith at her ease.

“I don’t want you to think me unduly urgent in this matter, my dear,”

she said, “but I could not help feeling that if I were in your place I

should want to be among friends who understood the situation. You must

not regard yourself as a guest with us, either; you are to consider

yourself at home, and do in all things just as you choose. At any rate,”

she added, with a reassuring pressure of the hand, “give me the

happiness of having you with me until your father is restored, which

must certainly be within a few hours.”

Meredith glanced up eagerly. “You believe that?” she exclaimed, then

turned as if for corroboration to Major Appleby, who sat with them in

the tonneau.

The major cleared his throat. “We are at least very close on the trail

of the Japanese spies who are undoubtedly responsible for the outrage,”

he assented guardedly, “For a time we were at sea, thinking they had

fled the city, but through a hint astutely obtained by Mrs.

Schilder”--he bowed pompously toward that lady--“from her butler, who is

also a Japanese, we are now confident that they are still in Brantford,

and, therefore, with the efforts we are making, must be run to earth in

very short time.”

“Japanese spies?” Meredith repeated. “So that is what is back of the

affair? Remember, I know nothing except what was contained in your

telegram. Please tell me all the circumstances,” she pleaded.

The major started to comply, with a labored, heavy account, but Mrs.

Schilder tactfully interposed, and, taking the recital into her own

hands, told in a few words the story of the occurrences at the foundry

the night before.

“But why are Japanese spies suspected?” The girl’s brows wrinkled into a

little frown. “I see nothing in all this to indicate such a theory. Did

Captain Grail see any Japanese around?”

“He did not say so,” stiffly responded the major. “To tell you the

truth, my dear, Captain Grail, beyond giving a bare account of the

incident, declined to commit himself in any way, or even to confer with

the other officers of the post over measures looking toward your

father’s recovery.”

The girl stared at him almost incredulously. “Yet he must know more of

what happened than anybody else,” she cried. A wave of hot indignation

swept over her face at the thought that an officer so closely associated

with her father could from any cause show indifference at such a crisis.

Involuntarily she drew back, with a hand on Mrs. Schilder’s arm. “Would

you mind taking me out to the fort before we go to your house? I must

see Captain Grail myself, and question him--now, at once. I cannot

understand what he means by such an attitude.”

The major endeavored to dissuade her. “I doubt if it would do you any

good,” he urged. Then, hesitating, he excused himself to Mrs. Schilder,

and leaned over to whisper: “If you must know, my dear, Grail is not

popular at the fort just now. We have, in short, excellent reasons to

believe that he himself is implicated in the colonel’s disappearance.”

Involuntarily she drew back, with a little cry of unbelief.

“Impossible!” she declared. “You cannot realize what you are saying,

major!”

“I not only realize, but reiterate it,” he said solemnly. “More than

that, I have stated the case mildly to you, for we have evidence to

prove that his was the crafty brain which hatched up this whole

so-called mystery. Now, I am sure, you will see the futility of

attempting to gain any information from him.”

“No.” She shook her head. “If what you say is true, then I think there

is more reason than ever that I should see Captain Grail.”

With an air of determination, she leaned once more toward Mrs. Schilder,

who had discreetly turned her eyes away during the colloquy, and was

gazing out over the side of the car. “I am afraid the major must

consider me very self-willed,” she said, “but I am going to ask you

again if I may not be driven to the post?”

Her hostess immediately bent forward to give the desired order to the

chauffeur, and, despite Appleby’s fuming, the car was whirled around and

headed for the new destination. Back down Carney Street they sped, past

the courthouse and city hall, and finally reached the fort.

Inquiry having developed that Grail was in his office at headquarters,

the major, with an air of stern virtue, prepared to conduct Meredith to

him; but again Mrs. Schilder suavely interposed.

“Perhaps Miss Vedant would prefer to see the adjutant alone,” she said,

laying a detaining hand on Appleby’s arm.

Meredith gave her a quick glance of gratitude, and assuring them both

that she needed no one with her during the interview, hurried on through

the door.

A moment later Grail was awakened by the announcement, “A lady to see

you, sir,” and he rose up, blinking and confused, to find her standing

before him.

“You?” he cried in amazement, for he had never dreamed that Appleby and

the crowd would permit her to come near such a pariah as himself. “You,

Meredith!”

Ormsby Grail had dreamed dreams centering about this fair-haired,

slender daughter of his colonel. He had seen her blossom from the child

he had once taken on his knee into a charming woman, and learned to love

her. But he had refrained from whispering any word of his love to her.

She was too young, he told himself; she could not possibly know her own

mind. Even when it was decided that she should go to Chicago for a year

to cultivate her remarkable voice, he still had not ventured to speak.

He would wait a little longer, he decided. She seemed to him no more

than a child.

So, although he wrote to her frequently, in a friendly, brotherly sort

of fashion, and never let a week go by without some remembrance from

him, he sedulously concealed from her the real state of his feelings--or

thought he did--and never dared visit her in Chicago.

Half extending his arms, he took a hasty step toward her, then halted

abruptly, the recollection sweeping over him of what she must have

heard.

“You wished to see me?” he asked, in a controlled voice.

“Yes.” Her glance met his steadily, although she was somewhat nervously

twisting her hands in their brown suede gloves. “I want to ask you about

father.”

“Haven’t the others told you?” he inquired. Then, as she nodded, he

added, with a touch of defiance: “I suppose you have heard, too, what

they are saying about me?”

“I have heard.”

“And do you believe it?”

“If I believed part of it,” she said, “I would be the happiest girl in

the world!”

CHAPTER VII.

NEW DEVELOPMENTS.

Grail stared at the girl in bewilderment as she repeated: “Yes, the

happiest girl in the world. For if I thought you were responsible for

his disappearance, as they say, I should know that no harm could

possibly have befallen him. It is because I am certain of your innocence

that I am apprehensive; and it is because I know you must be moving

heaven and earth in the effort to find him that I have come to ask you

what you have discovered. What faith can I put in Major Appleby’s

promises”--she gave a deprecating gesture--“when I see how he is

bungling things? But, surely, you can tell me whether or not there is

any real ground for hope?”

A great flash of joy and wonder lighted Grail’s face. “Meredith,” he

cried huskily, “I never expected to feel so proud in all my life! You

don’t know what your trust and confidence mean to me!”

Then, afraid that if he said more, he might say too much, he placed a

chair for her and drew up one for himself.

“More than that,” he went on, “I am going to prove to you that your

faith is not misplaced. Take my word for it, your father shall be

restored to you within a very short time; before to-morrow morning,

unless I am very much mistaken.”

Never yet, in their long acquaintance, had Grail failed to make good a

promise to her, and his assurance now brought a sigh of genuine relief

to her lips and a smile to her pale, anxious face.

“Ah!” she exclaimed. “You mean that the running down of these Japanese

spies must result in disclosing father’s whereabouts?”

“Japanese spies!” His lips curled contemptuously. “They exist only in

the imagination of Appleby and Hemingway.”

“Precisely what I thought, too, when the major told me,” she said. “I

know, of course, that all the foreign nations keep secret agents hanging

around our forts and army posts, just as we do around theirs; but that

any of these men would go to such lengths struck me, on the face of it,

as ridiculous.”

“There you are wrong,” Grail returned. “Ordinarily, I grant, you would

be right; but the colonel’s present series of experiments being

concerned with a new and surprising development in the use of the

wireless in warfare, has stirred these fellows up to a pitch where they

have been ready to dare almost anything. Besides, the chap who, I am

convinced, engineered this deal----” He caught himself just as he was on

the verge of revealing to her the point which had caused him most

concern in the affair.

Dexterously he extricated himself from the situation by knocking a book

from the desk with his elbow and stooping over to regain it.

“As I was about to say,” he resumed, “the chap who engineered this deal

was not a Japanese, but of a nation which furnishes spies of an even

more bold and subtle character.”

He drew from his pocket the half-smoked cigarette which formed his

principal clew.

“Are you sufficiently versed in such things to tell me of what make this

is?” he asked.

“Russian,” she replied, without a moment’s hesitation. “The little

countess we used to know in Washington, you remember, smoked cigarettes

exactly like that.”

“Exactly,” he said, “and the man for whom we have got to look in this

case is a Russian.”

A thoughtful look came into Meredith’s eyes. “Dad was in Russia once, on

secret-service business himself,” she said; “and although they would

never tell me about it, mother confessed to me on one occasion that for

a long time she had been fearful of an attempt at revenge upon him, for

something that happened while he was on the mission. You don’t suppose,

do you, that this could in any way be an outcome of that old affair?”

“Absurd!” he answered. “Why, it was almost twenty years ago that your

father was over there. If there was anything coming to him on that

score, I fancy he would have been called to account long before this.”

Then, he deftly turned the subject to a discussion of the facts from

which he had built up the hypothesis he was following.

“I had been on the lookout for a Russian spy, you see,” he explained,

“for I had been tipped off by Sasaku, one of the dining-room boys, who

is rather attached to me, that a fellow he had once seen chased out of

Tokyo was here in Brantford, showing considerable interest in doings at

the fort. Accordingly, I framed it up with Sasaku to get in with the

chap, on the plea of being a ‘gumshoe man’ himself, desirous of working

to mutual advantage, and gave him yesterday a bundle of fake papers to

fool the other with, and get him to divulge his name and his business.

“That,” he added disdainfully, “is the sole basis for the ‘Japanese spy’

story you have heard. And, by the way”--he glanced with a frown at his

watch--“I ought to have heard from Sasaku before this. He promised to

send me a communication at the very first opportunity.”

“But where does the cigarette come in?” Meredith asked, a trifle

impatiently.

“The cigarette? Oh, that was the connecting link. It is really the

corner stone to my entire theory; for although I very quickly decided

that the gumshoe artists were at the bottom of the job, I was, at first,

rather inclined to suspect Otto Schilder as the moving spirit. It seemed

pretty crude work for one of the kaiser’s men, I will admit; but there

was no one else handy to lay it to, and as a German he was, of course,

open to question. The discovery of the cigarette outside the office

door, however, cleared things up amazingly. I recollected a glint of

light I had seen flash across the doorway when the current was cut off,

and, by putting two and two together, it didn’t take me long to figure

out just about what had happened. The telltale spark I saw traversed the

aperture of the doorway from top to bottom; consequently, the cigarette

must have fallen or been dropped from above. Had the smoker been on the

roof, then? And was it possible that the colonel, seized and muffled as

he stood on the threshold, had been hauled up there by a rope? An

electric crane, though, with its long arm sweeping silently over the

yard, and lifting scrap iron across the fence to be loaded on cars

outside, gave me a more plausible idea.”

“But if you knew so much,” Meredith interrupted, “why did you not at

once denounce these men?”

“With what proof?” asked Grail. “Remember, some little time had elapsed

before I got this theory, and to identify the guilty men in that large

force of laborers would then have been practically impossible. Besides,

all the evidence I had to present was this cigarette butt; and, although

it was perfectly plain to me that it had been tossed away by one of the

men in the basket of the crane just before grabbing the colonel, I might

have had difficulty in getting others to see it in the same light. No,

no! To have shown my hand at that stage would have been simply to tip

all the fat into the fire.”

“But what of father?” exclaimed Miss Verdant sharply. “Is no effort

being made to find him, or learn what has become of him?”

“Assuredly,” Grail hastened to appease her. “That is, of course, the

object to which everything else must be subservient. Trust me, Meredith.

Take my word for it that your father is safe and sound, and will be with

you by this time to-morrow night.”

“Is that ‘orders’?” she asked, in playful allusion to an old joke

between them, although her lip quivered as she tried to smile.

“That’s ‘orders,’” assented Ormsby firmly, “and I want you to be enough

of a soldier’s daughter to obey them. You are all broken up by this

thing, and worn out by your trip, as well. What you’ve got to do now is

to take some rest, and quit worrying. Come! I’ll take you over to Major

Appleby’s house. I suppose you are stopping there?”

“No,” she explained. “I am to be with Mrs. Schilder, I believe.”

Grail looked up sharply, and seemed on the point of saying something,

but reconsidered the impulse.

“You don’t need to tell me to trust you, captain.” She extended her

hand. “Indeed, if it were not for my reliance on you, I don’t know what

I should do.”

The adjutant, choking back words that rose tumultuously to his lips,

escorted her to the door; then paused, with an involuntary exclamation,

to stare at the group of officers gathered about Mrs. Schilder’s car,

excitedly discussing an evening paper which one of them had just brought

in.

Its flaring black headlines were plainly discernible to Grail, and in a

flash he read that his little Japanese friend and ally, Sasaku, had been

murdered in the city.

TO BE CONTINUED.

“I CROW.”

Many a “star” might well envy the most insignificant member of her

troupe the supreme sense of importance and satisfaction with which he

performs his little duty, be it only that of blowing out the candle

through the hole in the scenery when the hero aims his deadly rifle at

the flame and the cap explodes.

Think of the pleasure his performance accorded this small boy, for

instance:

First Boy--“You ought to come to the concert our music teacher is goin’

to give.”

Second Boy--“You goin’ to be in?”

“Yes. I am one of the primmer donnas. We are goin’ to give a cantata.”

“Wot’s that?”

“Oh, it’s all about sunshine and storms and picnics and all sorts of

country things. It’s great.”

“Do you sing all that?”

“N-o. I’m only in the first scene: ‘Early mornin’ on the farm.’”

“What do you do?”

“I crow.”

THE WRONG PASSENGER.

One may, perhaps, presume so far upon old acquaintanceship as to indulge

occasionally in a mild, practical joke, but to attempt familiarity with

strangers is “another kind of game.”

A city street arab was wont to play rather roughly with a good-natured

bulldog, owned by a shopkeeper of the neighborhood. One day the boy was

walking with a friend when he saw the dog approaching.

“Hi! there’s Towse!” he cried. “Now see me scare him!”

He stepped in front of the dog, with arms extended, and partially

blocked the passage. The animal looked surprised, stopped, and evidently

considered within himself what it would be best to do.

“I never knew him to act like that,” said the joker. “He always lies

down on his back and rolls. I’ll stir him up a little.”

With that he sprang at the dog and caught him by the ears.

Towse was evidently amazed, but he proved equal to the occasion.

Fastening his teeth in the boy’s trousers, in startling nearness to an

expanse of bare knee, he held on like a vise.

Just at that moment the boy caught sight of an unfamiliar spot of white

on the animal’s head, and dropped his hold to take at once to his heels,

leaving a goodly portion of woolen cloth in the creature’s mouth.

“Run, Patsy, run!” he shouted to his chum. “He’s gone and turned hisself

into another dog!”

HOW LONG IS FIVE MINUTES?

In a murder trial before a court in the West, the prisoner was able to

account for the whole of his time, except five minutes, on the evening

when the crime was committed. His counsel argued that it was impossible

for him to have killed the man, under the circumstances, in so brief a

period, and on that plea largely based his defense, the other testimony

being strongly against his client. When the prosecuting attorney

replied, he said:

“How long a time really is five minutes? Let us see. Will his honor

command absolute silence in the courtroom for that space?”

The judge graciously complied. There was a clock on the wall. Every eye

in the courtroom was fixed upon it, as the pendulum ticked off the

seconds. There was breathless silence. The keen-witted counsel waited

until the tired audience gave a sigh of relief at the close of the

period, and then asked quietly:

“Could he not have struck one fatal blow in all that time?”

The prisoner was found guilty, and, as it was proved afterward, justly.

DON’T SNUB THE BOYS.

Don’t snub a boy because he wears shabby clothes. When Edison, the great

inventor, first entered Boston, he wore a pair of yellow linen breeches

in the depth of winter.

Don’t snub a boy because his home is plain and unpretending. Abraham

Lincoln’s early home was a log cabin.

Don’t snub a boy because he chooses a humble trade. The author of

“Pilgrim’s Progress” was a tinker.

Don’t snub a boy because of physical disability. Milton was blind, and

Cato was deaf.

Don’t snub a boy because he seems dull or stupid. Hogarth, the

celebrated painter and engraver, was slow at learning, and did not

develop as soon as some boys.

Don’t snub a boy because he stutters. Demosthenes, the greatest orator

of Greece, overcame a harsh and stammering voice.

Don’t snub any one; not alone because some day he may outstrip you in

the race of life, but because it is neither kind nor Christian.

KEEPING THEM DOWN.

Rich Youth--“I should not object to the work of earning my own living if

I had to, but what I should hate would be the officiousness and petty

tyranny of superiors. I should hate to have to bow to the whims of some

wealthy man not a bit better than myself.”

Poor Youth--“That’s easily avoided. Be a typewriter, as I am. Employers

never put on airs over me. I know how to take the starch out of em.”

“Eh? What do you do?”

“Ask em to spell a hard word now and then.”

THE NEWS OF ALL NATIONS.

Blames Cat for Loss of Ship.

Captain Roland F. Quillen, of Bethel, Va., whose three-masted schooner

_William J. Quillen_ was sunk off Cape Hatteras after a collision with

the Norwegian steamship _Laly_, never again will take a cat to sea. He

attributes the accident, which nearly cost his life and the lives of his

crew, to a gray cat which he had aboard.

“I’ve shipped for twenty-five years and always have taken along dogs,”

Captain Quillen said. “Just before I started from Baltimore for Mayport,

Fla., somebody stole my dog. So I got a cat--a gray cat. Cats are bad

luck, I guess. This was my first accident. The cat was lost.”

Turn Funeral Coach into a “Tango Car.”

The dead business is dead in Atlantic City, N. J. This is the conclusion

of the management of the Atlantic City & Shore Fast Line after six

months’ experiment in specializing in the dying business.

A half year back they went to considerable expense to have a finely

equipped trolley, twice the size of the ordinary cars, constructed to

carry funeral parties to the cemetery on the mainland. At the expiration

of the six months they found the car a dead loss.

Work was started at once to make it a paying proposition. It is being

dismantled and will be transformed into a “tango car.” The conveyance

will have the central seats removed, a fine maple floor will be put down

and waxed. Then it will be put in special service to carry gay parties

to the country clubs on the mainland. They can tango their way over and

back again; in fact, never stop tangoing from the time the car starts

out from its station.

“There’s more than one way of making ends meet,” declare the officials.

Woman Buys a Large Dairy.

Mrs. Elsie Rothery, a Memphis woman, has bought and assumed active

management of a large dairy farm near Natchez, Miss. She purchased the

300-acre farm on which the Natchez Creamery is located, together with a

number of fine milk cows and the dairy equipment.

She intends to conduct a modern dairy on an extensive scale.

Noted Woman Detective, Mrs. M. E. Holland, Dies.

Mrs. M. E. Holland, who was called “America’s greatest woman detective,”

died recently at her home in Chicago. She was forty-eight years old and

had been ill for two weeks. She was recovering from an operation when

pneumonia set in.

Mrs. Holland was editor of _The Detective_, official organ of the police

authorities and sheriffs of the country. She was internationally known

as a finger-print expert and had figured in some of the most important

cases in the country. A number of years ago she was hired by the

government to install in the secret-service bureau the finger-print

system of identification.

She was a native of Galena, Ill., but had lived in Chicago many years.

She had the largest private rogues’ gallery in the world, and, with her

former husband, was joint partner in a large police-equipment house. She

owned personally a special make of handcuff and the patent right of the

Oregon boot, an affair which superseded the ball-and-chain device, and

was the patentee of a folding stretcher that has been adopted

universally in police circles. Mrs. Holland was the only woman in the

country holding honorary memberships in the associations of police

chiefs and detective-bureau chiefs throughout the United States, and was

a familiar figure at their conventions.

Mrs. Holland was divorced from her first husband and was married to

Arthur McCarthy, a police sergeant, in January, 1914. She continued to

work with her former husband, however, in publishing _The Detective_.

Later she was divorced from McCarthy.

“Snooker” is New Pool Game.

There’s a new game in New York called snooker. It is English pool, and

is played on a table six feet wide and twelve feet long. The pockets at

each corner and on the sides are smaller than those of the regulation

pool table, and in proportion the balls are smaller.

Fifteen red balls are racked together at one end of the table. In back

of the pyramid is a black ball that counts seven for you every time you

succeed in putting it in the pocket. Directly in front of the apex of

the pyramid is a pink ball that is valued at six points. In the center

of the table is a blue, worth five, while at the opposite end of the

table are a yellow, green, and brown ball, worth two, three, and four

points.

The game is played by shooting alternately at any of the other colored

balls. When the fifteen red balls are pocketed, the remaining

extra-point balls are played off in rotation. The penalties of the game

are just about as numerous as the creditors on the trail of the man who

is hard up. Snooker has resulted in putting the nose of one Mr. Kelly

much out of joint.

Old Ma Wolf a Jealous Mother.

“All my sheep, gather in a heap, for I spy the woolly, woolly wolf,”

shouted an urchin standing in front of the wolf dens in the New York

Zoölogical Park recently, when some of his playmates gathered in the

park to watch the animals. The wolves he spied are Cherokee, Seneca, and

Iroquois, latest arrivals in the prairie-wolf pack, and they are just as

limber and wild as the Indians used to be on the plains of North Dakota,

from which Minnehaha, the mother wolf, came to the park a few years ago.

Since the trio arrived, interest has centered about them more than any

other attraction in the park. Their mother is insanely jealous of them

and especially solicitous for their welfare.

Only by patient watching and waiting was it possible for Alexander

Ferguson and Peter Romanoff, the keepers, to steal into the cage and

snatch the puppies away from Minnehaha. The howl she set up was chorused

by all the other wolves in the park, and this brought hundreds of

persons running in the direction of the wolf dens.

Minnehaha was forgotten when the crowd discovered Miss Marcella Burke,

secretary to Raymond L. Ditmars, curator of the New York Zoölogical

Society, with Iroquois, Cherokee, and Seneca in her arms. The little

ones did not like the idea of being taken out of the cage, but Miss

Burke, who has handled a variety of animals in the course of her

work--more perhaps than any other young woman, excepting those engaged

in the circus business--petted the puppies and soon made them feel at

home.

The children gathered around Miss Burke, and besought her to give them

the little wolves. One chap said that he had a dog like Seneca, and

another was certain that Cherokee was a spaniel and not a wolf at all,

while still another exclaimed that Iroquois was neither a dog nor a

wolf, but a cat. During the argument, Minnehaha never let up her

high-pitched staccato cry, manifesting clearly that the puppies were

neither dog nor cat, but hers at all hazards.

It was not until her offspring were returned to the cage that she ceased

howling for them. Her coddling of the little ones kept the crowd amused

for some time, and Minnehaha tenderly picked each one up by the slack of

the neck and tucked them away in the cave. She snarled at the spectators

and stood guard at the cave hole, ready to resent another intrusion.

Elephant Famine New Horror of War.

The European war has caused a shortage in elephants in this country,

according to Ernest Siegfried, manager of Louis Ruhe’s wild-animal farm

at Woodside, N. Y. Yesterday he received a rush order for six elephants

to be delivered at once to the Barnum & Bailey circus, but he was unable

to fill it.

“The activity of the fleets of the Allies in stopping German commerce is

responsible for this shortage,” said Mr. Siegfried. “The importation of

elephants has been carried on chiefly in the past by Germans through the

port of Hamburg.”

Mr. Siegfried declared that his firm was fortunate in getting out of

Germany, just before the war started, a considerable consignment of

other wild animals, among the number being fourteen lions, two tigers,

two leopards, three wolves, two polar bears, three brown Russian bears,

three camels, and a number of deer and kangaroos.

While there is some demand for these animals, they cannot take the place

of elephants, and there is a danger that some of the smaller circuses

throughout the country will have to go through this season at least

without their elephants.

Woman Routs Burglar.

A burglar climbed up to the window of the guest chamber in Judge John E.

Keeler’s house on Strawberry Hill, in Stamford, Conn., at four o’clock

the other morning.

A New York woman whose name was withheld occupied the guest chamber. She

awoke when the burglar had half of his body inside the open window,

shoved him out of the window, and hurled the water pitcher after him.

Then she became hysterical.

The burglar escaped.

Aged Ninety; Still a Sprinter.

David Anderson, of 33 Chestnut Street, Yonkers, N. Y., celebrated his

ninetieth birthday by a little sprint around the block in which he

lives. Anderson won a gold medal in a hundred-yard dash when he was

seventy-four. He has an open challenge to any man not more than ten

years his junior.

Americans in the Air Corps.

The formation of an American section in the French aviation corps has

been completed by Norman Prince, of Boston, and soon will be in active

service. It consists of seven pilots, who will fly a new type of

160-horse-power monoplane. Three of the seven American aviators have

qualified for the military certificate at Pau. They are Norman Prince,

William Thaw, of New York, and Andre Ruel, of Chicago. The others

expected to pass the tests are Elliott C. Cowden, junior, of New York;

James Bach, an American, living in Paris; B. Hall, of Texas, and Frazier

Curtis, of Boston. Prince says that he needs a reserve of three pilots,

at least. Beckwith Havens, winner of the Chicago-Detroit flying-boat

cruise, may enlist.

Oddities of Ball Players.

The lamented “Bugs” Raymond, world-famous pitcher of the New York Giants

and St. Louis Cardinals, always carried about him his pressmen’s union

card. It was always in his pocket on the ball field. Bugs was very proud

of it, just as he should have been, for a finer bunch of lovers of true

sport than the pressmen on newspapers never lived.

Larry Lajoie, the famous swatter, has a pair of rubber-soled canvas

shoes. Those shoes were on his feet when he first played with the Fall

River team. Lajoie never has parted with them. They have a special place

in his suit case.

Frank Chance, when with the Chicago Cubs, used to seek four-leaved

clovers. So does Hughey Jennings to this day.

Mysterious Message in Heart of Potato.

A great deal of interest and curiosity has been created in the vicinity

of West Nashville, Tenn., by a message found in an Irish potato.

Mrs. Walter Lovell was preparing some potatoes for dinner when her knife

struck something she thought was a cob, but on examination proved to be

a heavy piece of brown paper, about a foot long and five inches wide,

with the following writing on it:

“Peter Johnson, Edmore, Mich.; Harry Hansen, Edmore, Mich. Please

answer.”

This was written with an indelible pencil. The peeling of the potato was

smooth, with no indication of a plug. The potato was unusually large,

weighing about three pounds, and had grown firmly around the paper,

leaving a cavity when it was removed.

As to how the paper was grown into the potato with no indications on the

peeling remains a mystery.

Big Grizzley is Hotel Guest.

An unusual guest appeared recently at the Stewart Hotel, in San

Francisco, when a huge grizzly bear, accompanied by Fred Thompson, his

owner, and nature man Joe Knowles, waddled up to the desk and gravely

went through the formalities of registering, giving his name as “Baby of

the Rockies.”

After a good feed on lumps of sugar, Baby, who weighs slightly over 500

pounds, took a trip up the elevator, which he jammed on his way up.

Arrived at the seventh floor, Baby and escort visited a party of women.

The grizzly was captured by Thompson five years ago.

Four Legs Fatal to This Curious Chicken.

The town of Cheshire, Conn., has developed a chicken which ought to have

been born in the days of Phineas T. Barnum, so that its praises could be

properly expressed by the world’s greatest showman and purveyor of

natural and man-made wonders, more frequently the latter.

Joseph Wheeler, a prominent poultry raiser, found among a recently

hatched Rhode Island Red brood a chicken perfectly formed except that it

had four legs. All went well for nearly a week. Then it was discovered

that the two sets of legs were arranged for locomotion in opposite

directions. The result was that the chick pulled itself apart.

People from all over the countryside came to see it, and in death it has

been turned over to a taxidermist.

How Ships Take Oil on Run.

The method of supplying vessels, especially battleships, with fuel oil

at sea is remarkably simple when compared with that required for

coaling. A tanker is run up to within about six hundred feet of the

vessel needing oil, a tow line is attached, and a second line supports a

hose through which the oil is pumped. Meanwhile the ships are steaming

at an hourly speed of from ten to twelve knots. An automatic tension

furnishes the necessary elastic medium for paying out and taking up the

supporting cable, as required by motion of the vessel.

By this method it is possible to transport from the tanker to the vessel

taking on the fuel nearly seven hundred barrels an hour.

Owes Life to Sleeping Dog.

A dog averted perhaps a fatal injury to its owner, J. H. Adams, a farmer

near Polo, Ill. He fell thirty feet from the haymow of his barn and

alighted upon the dog, which was lying asleep. The dog was killed, but

the man escaped.

Facts for You.

For the convenience of travelers, an English firm is compressing tea

into blocks that resemble American plug tobacco.

After experimenting for thirty-two years, a New York man claims to have

perfected a synthetic gold, made from copper and aluminium.

A French inventor’s parachute can be guided in falling by pulling cords

to draw in its sides.

Extensive deposits of iron ore have been discovered in Bavaria, the ore

lying close to the surface of the ground.

In the last twenty years the per-capita consumption of paper in the

United States has increased about six-fold.

Aluminium can be rolled into sheets one-two-thousandth of an inch in

thickness that are as strong as tinfoil.

Charcoal made of peat and formed into briquettes has been used

successfully for melting iron ore in England.

A new sanitary holder for tumblers is made of spring wire, so shaped as

to touch the glass as little as possible.

To enable a man to walk on an inclined roof, spiked frames, to be

strapped under the shoes, have been patented.

Experts from the United States Department of Agriculture are making an

extensive study of the coconut industry in the Philippines.

To enable visitors to get a closer view of the whirlpool of Niagara

Falls, a passenger-carrying cableway will be built across the river.

California possesses more than one-twelfth of the hydroelectric power

development of the United States, about 450,000 horse power.

A violet-rays water-sterilizing apparatus invented in France

automatically opens a valve and diverts the water into a drain if the

rays should stop.

Experiments are under way with glass for spectacles intended to filter

out the injurious rays of artificial light, leaving the effect of

sunlight.

A new deepest hole in the earth is a well that has been bored in Silesia

to a depth of 7,348 feet, 6,848 feet of which has been lined with iron

tubing.

A New South Wales irrigation dam, which will cost $3,680,000, will

impound 33,380,000,000 cubic feet of water, backed up in a lake forty

miles long.

By authority of the Brazilian government, the railways of that country

and Paraguay will be connected, providing another transcontinental line

for South America.

For finding leaks in motor-cycle tires there has been invented a box to

fit over them in compartments of which is cotton that is moved by the

escaping air as it passes over a hole.

Raise Your Own Food.

Sufficient vegetables can be raised on a quarter-acre lot to supply a

family of six persons for an entire year if close attention is given to

the rotation and succession of crops, says the Federal Department of

Agriculture. The same lot will accommodate such permanent crops as

asparagus, rhubarb, and small fruits and berries, if care is taken in

arranging the garden. It will provide fresh vegetables for the summer

and enough for canning for use in the winter.

A smaller area, such as is found in the average city back yard, will

accommodate several of the smaller crops, such as lettuce, peas,

parsley, radishes, beets, and onions, all of which are in constant

demand by the average housewife.

Pigeons Overrule Solomon.

According to an order of Judge Beall, in special sessions court, of

Yonkers, N. Y., a flock of pigeons was permitted to determine ownership.

The birds were in the cote of William Warholy, who asserted they

belonged to him. John Yosko was also a claimant, charging the pigeons

had been stolen from his cote.

Recalling that pigeons are credited with a wonderful instinct in finding

their own roosts, Judge Beall ordered two policemen to release the

pigeons in dispute and report the result.

One-half of the number of birds flew to Warholy’s cote and the others to

Yosko’s cote, thereby reserving decision for the judge.

Garden Rake is Life-saver.

Jennie Reed, four-year-old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. H. C. Reed, of Grand

Rapids, Mich., owes her life to a garden rake. The little girl fell into

a cistern while playing with little Raymond Algra, a neighbor boy. The

boy called his mother and told her Jennie was in the cistern. Mrs. Algra

seized a garden rake, which had been left near by, and drew the child to

safety. Jennie was delivered to her mother little worse for her cold

plunge.

Prehistoric Race Relics Found in Nebraska.

Ruins left by some prehistoric race in the vicinity of Howe, Neb., have

recently been inspected and studied by Professor Gerard Fowke, the St.

Louis geologist, who is curator of the St. Louis Museum.

Mr. Fowke has been gathering scientific data of the primitive

inhabitants of the Missouri Valley, and he investigated the remains of

their civilization. He began with the ancient ruins north of Kansas City

and followed the west bank of the river northward, tracing the northern

retreat of these ancient farmers and gardeners.

After an exhaustive examination of the ruins found at Howe, Neb., and at

Peru, the professor is of the opinion that the ancient remains recently

discovered near White Cloud, Kan., were of works made by the same race.

Considerable work has been done at Howe under the direction of C. L.

Meek, and a large number of the bone and horn gardening instruments have

been unearthed. The tools for the most part were found cached beneath

what had once been the floors of the dwellings, where they were buried

in beds of ashes.

Scientists are now of the belief that a number of the remains found

along the Missouri River and the neighboring country were those of a

civilization which preceded that of the Indians.

Skeletons discovered by Robert P. Gilder, of Omaha, and now in the

University of Nebraska museum, are declared by scientists to greatly

antedate the Indian. The skulls show much less brain capacity than those

of the Indian, and have the very receding forehead characteristic of the

early members of the race, and but little higher than the ape or gorilla

type.

Well Stops Flowing at Night.

Hawkinsville, Ga., has a well which refuses to work at night. This well,

which is located at the county jail, has an estimated flow of about

fifty gallons of water per minute until about a year ago, when it

suddenly and without apparent cause quit flowing entirely and remained

dry until about a month ago, or just after the earthquake in Italy, when

it commenced flowing again, the flow this time being not over two or

three gallons per minute. But the strange thing about this well is that

it flows only in daytime. It begins flowing about nine o’clock in the

morning and quits about the same time in the evening, and remains dry

all night.

Missing Police Pet is Found with Kittens.

“Now, Annie; now, Annie,” crooned Captain of Detectives Walker on his

knees at the central police station, in Cleveland, Ohio, “nobody’s going

to hurt em. Say, George, better give that teeny one some of that milk.

It looks as if it needs some.”

And Lieutenant George Matowitz, assisted by Lieutenant Charles Sterling,

obeyed the commands of their superior, picked up a kitten in the corner,

and administered nourishment via a bottle and nipple.

Annie, feline mascot of the police department, was discovered after a

disappearance lasting four days. Hidden behind the telephone booths in

the reporters’ room at the central station, she was found nursing her

litter of kittens.

The police department rejoiced, for Annie is the only official mascot at

the station, and her disappearance had caused no small amount of worry

among Cleveland’s finest.

Captain Walker sent to the nearest drug store for a bottle and nipple

and obtained a quart of milk, which was administered to all the little

newcomers by Lieutenants Sterling and Matowitz, while Annie, secure in

the grasp of Walker, arched her back and otherwise indicated her feline

rage.

Villainous Bugs to Pose for the Movies.

Bugs in movies--ten or twenty-legged insects posing for the camera--are

promised by a new entrant into the picture field, the division of

entomology at the Minnesota College of Agriculture. The various

creepers, borers, and aviators, after they have been placed on the film,

will be routed over a circuit of Minnesota towns. The promoters of the

venture are confident that their “star” bugs are sure to make a hit.

Only bold, dangerous villains, the most destructive known to exist in

the State, are sure of a position in the cast. They are to be shown in

the native environment, and all their destructive operations reproduced

before those who suffer from their malicious activities.

Has a Lamb with Eight Legs.

Martin Werner, living near High Ridge, Mo., has a lamb which has eight

legs. The lamb is otherwise normal. It is considered a remarkable

curiosity by Mr. Werner’s neighbors.

Heliograph to Sell Goods.

Perhaps the most novel of all methods of selling goods is that devised

by a grocer in Tonasket, Wash., who uses the heliograph for signaling

inquiries and quotations to a forest-service station located fifteen

miles away across the mountains, and receives orders flashed back by the

same method. The grocer’s heliograph is an improvised instrument,

consisting only of a mirror held in front of an automobile headlight.

With this he flashes his messages in the code used by the forest

service.

Electricity in a Fence Kills Three.

Three persons were killed and two badly shocked by current from a

high-voltage wire which broke and fell across the rear fence of a house

on Grover Street, Los Angeles, Cal. The 2,200 volts in the wire set fire

to the fence across which it fell. Two men were killed when they threw

buckets of water on the flames. A woman seized her husband’s hand and

fell dead.

War Chiefs Begin by Prayer.

Lord Curzon’s statement in the House of Lords that Lord Roberts had

conducted family prayers for his household for fifty years, is

supplemented by data collected by the _Church Family Newspaper_

regarding Lord Fisher, first sea lord, and Lord Kitchener.

“We learn, on unimpeachable authority,” says the journal, “that Lord

Fisher makes a habit of going to a certain church practically every day

for prayer and meditation before commencing his responsible duties.

“We understand that Lord Kitchener follows out a similar rule whenever

he is in London.”

“Tipperary” Causes Mix-up of Nations.

Allan McAtee, Scotch, of Bridgeport, Ohio, asked two Austrian girls to

give ear while he sang “Tipperary.”

He was interrupted by Policeman Tom Howley, formerly of County Donegal,

Ireland, who arrested him for disorderly conduct.

Next morning McAtee faced Mayor Herman A. Schafer, German by right of

descent, who fined McAtee one dollar.

Harry Wilson, an American and a friend of McAtee’s, paid the fine.

Fuel Value of Wood.

The fuel value of wood is in weight about half that of coal. But the

forest-service laboratory at Washington has determined that a cord of

seasoned hickory, oak, beech, birch, hard maple, ash, elm, locust,

longleaf pine, or cherry equals a ton of coal; a cord and a half of

short leaf pine, hemlock, red gum, Douglas fir, sycamore, or soft maple,

and two cords of cedar, redwood, poplar, catalpa, Norway pine, cypress,

brasswood, spruce, or white pine are needed to equal in heat a ton of

coal.

Eighteen Pigs Young Sow’s Record.

Lawrence Murphy, of Pilot Knob, Ind., has a bigboned Poland China sow

that had a litter of eighteen pigs. Believing this number more than the

sow could care for, Murphy took five of the pigs away to raise by hand,

but in this he was unsuccessful.

The sow at present has only ten pigs, she having laid on three of them

at time of birth. The sow weighs 350 pounds and is not yet two years

old. Her record is nine pigs in her first litter and eighteen in her

second, which is considered quite extraordinary.

Serves as Juror at Eighty-five Years.

A. R. Wright, who is serving as a juror at this term of district court

in Fort Dodge, Iowa, despite his eighty-five years, is probably the

oldest man that ever has served on a jury in Iowa. Notwithstanding his

advanced years, Mr. Wright is in possession of all of his faculties.

He saw a dispatch in a local paper recently about a man seventy-eight

years of age who served on a jury, and he decided to go him one better.

Boa Tries to Eat Zoo.

Ten pythons, a crate of parrakeets, now reposing inside the largest of

the giant snakes; armadillos, boa constrictors, monkeys, parrots,

Theodora, a baby bear; Brazilian wild cats and South American birds of

all combinations of brilliant colors were part of the cargo of the

Lamport & Holt liner _Terence_, which docked in New York recently.

In spite of the varied temperaments of the members of the party, the

trip was calm and peaceful, except for one dary day, when “Old Tom,” the

largest python, broke loose and devoured a crate of parrakeets to

appease the appetite engendered by the sea breezes. Tom fell asleep

while digesting the crate, however, and was bundled back into captivity

before he awoke.

The zoölogical consignment is the property of Henry Bartels, of 72

Cortlandt Street, and was shipped to him by his brother Ferdinand, who

has been collecting beasts and birds in the Amazon region to fill the

hole in the wild-animal trade left when Hagenbeck was put out of

business by the war.

Countess Szechenyi Invents War Game.

Countess Szechenyi, who was Miss Gladys Vanderbilt, of New York, and

Countess Sigray, daughter of the late Marcus Daly, have invented a

popular war game for Budapest. It arose from an argument between the

two, as each has a pet theory as to when the war will end. The game

consists of writing forecasts of the date of the close of the struggle,

sealing them in envelopes, and filing them to be read after peace is

declared. A growing number of people, lured by the chance of saying, “I

told you so,” are canning their own opinion with red wax and ceremony.

Dog Saves Man from Attack by a Park Buffalo.

James Crowley, keeper of the menagerie in Central Park, New York, who

has charge of the herd of buffalos and bears in the pens near the

Arsenal, had a narrow escape from injury, when one of the biggest

buffalos of the herd attacked him. Crowley’s pet Airedale terrier rushed

at the big buffalo and kept the animal busy long enough to let Crowley

escape. The dog then made a dash for safety and managed to get out of

the pen.

Crowley went to the buffalo pen just when his animal charges were

enjoying breakfast. In the pen he was surprised to find the body of an

old pet rooster, “Dick,” evidently a victim of a snow storm. “Black

Diamond,” who is the fighter of the herd of buffalos and about the

biggest of the lot, was not so much interested in his breakfast that he

did not see Crowley, and when the latter’s back was turned, he sneaked

up behind him.

It would have fared badly for Crowley, for the buffalo was coming at

full speed, with head lowered when the dog interfered and attacked the

animal. Crowley then saw his danger and escaped before the buffalo could

get free from the dog, and in a few minutes more the dog, knowing that

danger to his master was past, came racing to safety out of the pen.

Sings as Convicts Weep.

Mrs. Mary Greer McLane, daughter of Bishop Greer, of New York, sang

Easter hymns recently for the prisoners in Sing Sing prison. With her

sister and father she entered the chapel of the prison, where every

bench was filled. Her audience listened in absolute silence. When she

had finished, more than one gray sleeve was used as a handkerchief.

Bishop Greer conducted the Episcopal services, and Mgr. Evers, of New

York, and Father Cashin the Roman Catholic services.

His First Ride Proves Fatal.

Upon the very first ride on the motor cycle for which he had been saving

for years, Samuel Leechman, twenty-six years old, a salesman, of New

York, was killed before he had gone fourteen blocks.

On Central Park West he swerved at Seventy-ninth Street to avoid a

passenger from a trolley car. The wheels skidded and Leechman was

thrown. The police could get no ambulance for half an hour, and then

Leechman was dead.

Friends say motor cycling had always been Leechman’s hobby, but he had

not been able to purchase one until the day of his death.

Hog Nearly Eight Feet Long.

A hog weighing 1,210 pounds and less than two years old is the record in

swine raising made by Colonel W. E. Wimpey, of De Kalb County, Ga. The

hog is 7 feet 10 inches long, 39½ inches high, and 74½ inches around the

body.

Cupid Calls Mayor to Aid of Pastor.

Backed up with a letter of commendation from the Bishop of Ontaria and

kind words from other persons of prominence, a clergyman of the Church

of England, from Barrie, Canada, has asked Mayor Mitchel, of New York

City, to find him a wife.

When the mayor replied he had no means of obtaining wives, but would be

glad to publish his letter, the minister sent the following:

“DEAR SIR: This is to thank you for kindly acceding to my request to aid

me in finding a wife, and you may publish my want. I desire a well-bred,

cultured woman, healthy, cheerful, preferably not over thirty years of

age. For publication let me repeat that I am an Episcopalian minister,

graduate of a leading university, healthy, vigorous, bright, artistic,

practical, affectionate, and very devoted where deserved.

“I send you credentials that will enable you to attest my position and

social standing.

“Of course, all communications will be honorably treated by me as

strictly confidential.”

In his letter, which was enclosed, the bishop wrote:

“He is in good health, very active, full of pluck and energy. He could

be designated as a manly man. He is about thirty years old, and has no

ties.”

A letter from M. L. Mackenzie King, director of the Rockefeller

Foundation for Investigation of Industrial Relations in Ottawa, to the

clergyman, which he sent to the mayor, said that Mr. King had received

“an exceedingly kind and generous letter” on the clergyman’s behalf from

her royal highness, the Princess Frederica, of Brunswick and Lunenburg,

which letter was written “by her royal highness in her own hand.”

Barrie is a town of 5,500 people, with several manufacturing

establishments and other industries, about sixty-four miles northwest of

Toronto. It is the county seat of Simcoe County.

Any woman desiring to communicate with the clergyman on matrimony may

address him at Post-office Box 701, Barrie, Ont.

Ate All the Rolls in Sight--Three.

The most striking effect of the eight months of war on Vienna has been

the banishment of the roll which has made the Austrian capital famous.

The Café Imperial on rare occasions with late coffee still serves white

rolls. The other evening three were brought to a party of six, just as

the party was finishing the meal, and an American girl, who came late,

ate all three. The waiter’s voice was full of real pathos as he pointed

out the girl to the manager and said: “That, sir, is the fraülein who

has eaten three of our rolls. I can’t understand how she dared.” No

other hotel serves anything but gray war bread, and the signing of peace

is spoken of as the day of the restoration of the Vienna roll.

Fireman with a Tough Head.

Three thousand New Yorkers gasped when an iron shutter fell three

stories, striking a fireman squarely on the head. Two minutes later an

ambulance corps couldn’t find a fireman who would admit his head had

been bruised.

Has Fireproof Cotton Press.

J. R. Roddie, a negro of Muskogee, Okla., has invented and obtained a

patent upon an all-steel and fireproof cotton press. Not only does the

new press obviate the danger of fire, but the claim is made for it that

it can be operated by one man, whereas the present cotton presses

require two and three men to operate, and that it can be built for

one-half the cost of the presses now in use.

Offered Fifteen Cents to Settle.

An unidentified autoist, after running into a rig driven by Mrs. Frank

Reynolds, Mount Holly, N. J., and tossing her and the horse several feet

into a ditch along the roadside, stopped his car, turned around, and

offered to settle the affair by paying her fifteen cents for a broken

strap on the horse’s harness. She refused to accept his offer.

Mrs. Reynolds is a large woman, and received a jolting from which she

will not recover for several days. No bones were broken. The horse was

severely injured. Mrs. Reynolds secured the number of the machine, and

will sue the driver for damages.

Rye Bread Fad Lifts German Flour Ban.

Some of the restrictions against the use of wheat flour in Germany for

making bread and pastry have been removed, says a dispatch from

Amsterdam. This step has been taken because of the increased consumption

of rye bread, which resulted in the use of an undue proportion of that

grain rather than wheat.

Lone, Timid Prisoner Released on Parole.

Elwood Armstrong, the sole prisoner in the Sussex County Jail, in

Georgetown, Del., who recently complained to Sheriff Jacob West that he

was lonely and afraid to remain in the prison at night without company,

will no longer be afraid.

Recently he was paroled for two years to Charles S. Richards, of

Georgetown, formerly secretary of state, and brother of Robert H.

Richards, of Wilmington, formerly attorney general. This was done after

he had confessed to the theft of five dozen eggs.

Accordingly the jail is now empty. The turnkey has taken a vacation, and

the sheriff does not have enough to do to keep him busy.

Chickens are roosting in the cells, some of which are modern steel

affairs, and the jail yard will soon be planted in early corn.

The dry forces say it is a concrete example of what happens when the

liquor traffic is forbidden. This is a local-option section.

* * * * *

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.

704--Written in Red.

707--Rogues of the Air.

709--The Bolt from the Blue.

710--The Stockbridge Affair.

711--A Secret from the Past.

712--Playing the Last Hand.

713--A Slick Article.

714--Taxicab Riddle.

717--The Master Rogue’s Alibi.

719--The Dead Letter.

720--The Allerton Millions.

728--The Mummy’s Head.

729--The Statue Clue.

730--The Torn Card.

731--Under Desperation’s Spur.

732--The Connecting Link.

733--The Abduction Syndicate.

736--The Toils of a Siren.

738--A Plot Within a Plot.

739--The Dead Accomplice.

741--The Green Scarab.

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.

810--The Copper Cylinder.

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--In 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 Thieves.

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 Hand.

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 Massage.

132--Broken Bars.

133--Won by Magic.

134--The Secret of Shangore.

135--Straight to the Goal.

136--The Man They Held Back.

Dated April 24th, 1915.

137--The Seal of Gijon.

Dated May 1st, 1915.

138--The Traitors of the Tropics.

Dated May 8th, 1915.

139--The Pressing Peril.

Dated May 15th, 1915.

140--The Melting-Pot.

=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