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THREE MEN ft'CBEHOUSE AND A MAID Copyright by George 11. Dona Cos. CHAPTER Xi V— Continued. —l4 i r Bennett had retired within the room when she arrived; and, going In after him, she perceived at once what Tea,mod his alarm. There before ,oolong more sinister than ever )0d the lunatic Peters; and there an ominous bulge in his right coat nocket which betrayed the presence of L revolver. What John Peters was, fIS u matter of fact, carrying in his gi t coat-pocket was a bag of muted ocolaus which he had purchased m Windleiu.rst. But Billie’s eyes. tho^J bright, had no X-ray quality. Her simple creed was that, if ,lo!m Peters. Ed m any point, that bulge must L caused by a pistol. She screamed uud backed against the wall. Her “hole acquaintance with John Peters had been one constant backing against walls. . • ' “Don't ehoot!” site cried, as Mr. le ters absent-mindedly dipped his hand Into the pocket of his coat. “Oh. please don’t shoot!” “What tlie deuce do you mean? %alu Jir. Bennett, irritably. , He hated to have people gibbering Ground him in the morning. “Wilhelmina, this man says that you told him you loved him.” “Yes, I did, and 1 do. lteally, really, Mr. Peters, 1 do!" “Suffering cats!” Mr. Bennett clutched at tlje back of a chair. “But you've only met him once 1” he added almost pleadingly. “You don’t understand, father, dear." said Billie desperately. “I’ll ex plain the whole tiling later, when . . .” “Father!” ejaculated John Peters feebly ‘Did you say ‘father’?” “Of course 1 said ‘father’!” “This is my daughter, Mr. Peters." “My daughter! I mean, your daugh ter! Are — are you sure?” “Of course I’m sure. Do you think I don't know my own daughter?" “But she called me ‘Mr. Peters' 1* “Well, it’s your name, isn’t it?” “But, if she — if tills young lady Is your daughter, iiow did she know my name?” The point seemed to strike Mr Ben nett. He turned to Billie. “That’s true. Tell me, Wilhelmina. when did you and Mr. Peters meet?” _ “Why, in—in Sir Matlaby Marlowe’s office, the morning you came there wjd found me when 1 was — talking tq’Sam.’’ Mr. Peters uttered a subdued gan gling sound. He was finding this scqpe oppressive to a not very robust intel lect. " " ’ ;Y; "He— Mr. Samuel—told me your name, Miss Milliken,” he said dully. Billie stared at him. ' Mr. Marlowe told you my name was Miss Milliken?” she repeated. .: ~, 1 ile told me that you were the sister of the Miss Milliken who nets as ; ,ste nogrnpher for the guv’—for Sip/Mhila-' by, and sent me in to show you toy re '•‘ilver. because he said you were inter ested and wanted to see it." Billie uttered an exclamation.-So did Mr. Bennett, who hated mysteries. Mhat revolver? Which Wiuiis all this about a revolver? Have) you a revolver?” v " Wl) y. yes, Mr. Bennett. It is packed now in my trunk, but usually I carry'lit about with me everywhere in order tot l eke a little practice at the Rupert *>>'ect range. I bougiit it when Sir. - liiUahy told tne he was sending me to 1 America, because I thought I ought to* no prepared— because of the Under-} world, you know.” A cold gleam had come into Billie’s 1 *yes. Her face was pale and hard. If* .V ,ln Marlowe — at that moment caroj-, “V . holy in ids bedroom at the Bluer; ’ OJI ,n Windiehurst, wnshing his i n!- preparatory to descending to ™" ee room for a hit of cold lunch—' 1 have seen her, the song would! -T; : rozen on his lips. Which, onfe: * - ■ mention, as showing that there Po. t'" yB a s ide, would have :auch appreciated by the travel) • - -rr.'ieman in the adjoining room,; fit ',,. ! ‘ a w ’dd night with some tPrv, ,riv el!ng gentlemen, and was- Se ." ' rs!n f; a rather severe headache. from Sam’s penetrating barl nl-v thickness of a wooden th!. i . npw nll - And, terrible though t( , x :S as an Indictment of the male V ;‘ n a "omnn knows all, there Is ■p, ,r °üble ahead for some man. M-' . was trou ßle ahead for Sam the ,! now tn possession of con- ' exn to!ned them Hnd pi the Conc| nslon that Sam had was - J l ir nctlonl joke on her, and she Pr T , r ' ' v!>o stron Sly disapproved of ; ’-umor at her expense. lahv s . ' Tlornln g I met you at Sir Mal f- •- !/ f ! ce ’ Mr - Peters.” she said In a °e, “Mr. Marlowe had Just fln ished telling me a long and convincing story to the effect that you were madly in love with a Miss Miliiken, who had Jilted you, and that this had driven you off your head, und that you. spent your time going about with a pistol, trying to shoot every red-Wired Wom an you sa w,,because you thought- they were Miss Miliiken. Naturally, when you came in and called me ben; and brandished a revolver, I was .very frightened. I thought it would he useless,fb tell you that I wasn't Miss Miliiken, so 1 tried to persuade you that .I Avas, and hadn’t jilted you after all.” ' "Good .gracious!” said Mr. Peters’ vastly relieved; and yet—for always there is bitter mixed 1 -‘With the sweet —, a shade disappointed. “Then—er—you don’t love me after all?” .“No!”* said Billie.- -T am engaged- tr>~ Bream Mortimer, and l J<we Ima uud nobody’else in the world !’' The last ’portion ot her observation was intended for flip, consumption ,ot Mr.’ Bennett, rat-lifer tjian tfiiit bf.Mr, 1 Peters, and he consumed ’lt joyfully. Fie folded Billie in bis ample embrace. "I always Thought"yotD had u grain, of away somewhere,” he said, paying lier a striking tribute. “I .hope now, tint,t. we’ve heard the last of all this foolishness about that young hound Marlowe.” • J’You Certainly haCe.l I. don’t want ever to see him again! ! hate him!” “You'couldn’t-do better, my dear," said Mr.'Bennett, approvingly. “And •wow run away.' Mr: Peters and'l have some business to discuss.” * * . * * 1 * A quarter of nn hour later, Webster, the valet, sunning himself in .the stable .yard,'was aware of tbd t daughter of his employer approaching him. “Webster,”.said Billie. She was stilJ pale. Her face (vas still hard, and her eyes still gleamed cpldly. . ; “Miss?” said Webster politely, throw ing away the cigarette with which he had been refreshing himself. * “Will you do something'for me?’’, ‘ -“1 should be more than delighted, miss.’’ , Billie whisked Into view nn envelope which had been concealed in the re cesses of ’her dress. ’ “Ho you know -the- country about here, well, Webster?” 4 r - .“Within a certain ritdTas.-jjticrt. unintl %'ately, miss. I' havd been for -sej eral enjoyable rambles-since the fine Aveat ti er set in.” /• > \ “Do you know the place where-tfrere is a road leading to Havant, and an other to Cosliato? It’s about a nple down . . “1 know the spot well, miss.’’ “Well, straight in front of you when you.get to the sfgH-p'bst there is a little latte...” ’■> “I know it, miss,” said Webster. “A • delightfully romatoic spot. What with the overhanging trees, 'th& ; wealth of blackberry bushes, the varied wild flowers . . .” “Yes, never mind about the wild flowers now. I want you after lunch to take this note to a gentleman you will find .sitting .on the gate at the bottom of the lane , . .” “Sitting on the gate, miss. Yes, miss.” “Or leaning against It. You can t mistake him. He is rather .tall and ... Oh, well, there isn’t likely to be anybody else there, so you can’t make •a mistake. Give him this, will you? “Certainly, miss. Er —any mes sage?” ■ p-. “Any What?” “ * “Aiiy. veT.bat. message, miss?” “No, certainly hot.! You won’t for get, will you, Webster?” “On no account whatever, miss. Shall 1 wait for an answer?’’ ; “There won’t be any answer,” said Billie, setting her teeth for an instant. “On. Webster 1“ “Miss?” “I can rely on you to say nothing to anybody?” “Most undoubtedly, mis3. Most un doubtedly l”-' * • • • • “Does anybody know anything about a feller named S. Marlowe?" inquired Webster, entering the kitchen. “Don t all spenk at'oncc! S. Marlowe. Ever heard of him?” He paused for a reply, hut nobody had anv information to impart “Because there’s something Jolly well up! Our .Miss IJ. is sending me with notes for him to the bottom of Die lanes.” “And her engaged to young Mr. Mor timer!” said the scullery maid, shocked. “The way they go on! Chronic!" said the scullery maid. “Don’t you go getting alarmed. Anu don’t vou." added Webster, “go shov ing vour ear in when your social su periors are talking. I’ve had to speak THE DANIELSVILLE MONITOR. OANIELSVILLE, GEORGIA to you .about that before; My remarks were addressed to Mrs. Withers here.” lie Indicated the cook with a respect ful gesture. “Yes, here’s the note, Mrs. Withers. Of .course, if you had a. steamy kettle .handy, ip.. about hqlf a mrimeut we coiikl . . . but no, perhqps it’s wiser not to risk It. And, conte to that, 1 doft'.t Ved to unstick thp envelope to know what’s inside here. It’s tpe raspberry*., ma’am, or I’ve lost all my power to read the human fe'nutle coun tenapee. . cold aiulproud-looking she Whs! 1 I’don’t knout; .who this S. In flits hand I hold tlip- instrument that’s going to give it hinj in the neck, proper! Right in the necll; or my name isn’t Montagu Webster I” ■ ] • • - -‘.WeII.IP. Withers comfort ably, pausi.qg.fftC-TU tnoqieht from her tfdVors; fiihf p’ 1 ‘TrtF wayTjdolk "a't'lt,” said Webster, “is. that there’s been some,sort of un derstand ln<* lie?ween our Miss B. and This'S. Marlowe, and she’s-thought bet ter of it and decided tolsticlf-to the nlan of her parent’s choice. .She’s chosen wealth and made up her mind to hand tlie,bumble suitor the mitten. There was it rather sl.mjlnr situation in ‘Cupid’’ or 4 l\lainnion,' that Nbsogay Novelette 1 was .reading in the train coming, <d.rgwn? iidrej : ohi-y . that % ended different. For m.v part I’<3 bo better pleased'if our Miss B. would let the cash go, and* obey the dictates'of her -own heart'; buPflifesfe modern girls are all alike. Ail out for llib stuff, they a’rje.r.rbh, well. It’s none] of my af fair,” said Webster, stilling a not un manly sigh. For beneath that Immacu late sliirr-froij’t! there bent a > warm heart; Tflontagti Webster was. a south mentalist. CHAPTER XV At half-past two that afternoon, full of optimism .and cold beef, gaily nn con^cious’tllai’Webster, with measured strides was* approaching ever nearer with the note that was to give it him in the neck, proper, Samuel Marlowe dangled his feet from the top bar of the gate at the end of the lane and smoked ..contentedly* ns- he walled for Billie to make her appearance. He had had an excellent lunch; his pipe was drawing well, and all nature smiled. The breeze from the sea across the meadows tickled pleasantly the back of his head, and sang a soothing song .in the long grass nnd ragged-robins at his feet.. He was looking forward with a roseate glow of anticipation to the moment '.when the white flutter of Bil lie’s dress would break the green of the foreground. How eagerly he would jump from the gatel How lovingly he would . . -. The elegant figure of Webster Inter rupted his reverie. Sam had never seen Webster before, and. it. was with no pleasure that he saw him now. He laid cotne to regard this Inne as his own property, nnd he resented tres passers. He tucked his legs under him and scowled at Webster under the brim of his hat. • ’ The valet advanced toward him with tiie air of an affable executioner step ping daintily to the block. “Mr. Marlowe, sir?” he Inquired po litely. gam was startled. He could make nothing of this. “Eli? What?” “Have I tlie pleasure of addressing Mr. S. Marlowe?” v “Yes. that’s-my name.” “Mine is Webster, sir. I am Mr. Ben nett’s personal gentleman’s gentleman. Miss Bennett intrusted me with this note to deliver to you, sir.” Sum began to grasp the situation. For SQine fenson or other, the dear girl had' been prevented from coining tins afternoon, und she had written to explain and to relieve his nnxiety. It was like her. It was Just the sweet, thoughtful tiling lie would have expect ed Her to do. His contentment with the existing scheme of things returned. The sun shone out again, and he found himself amiably disposed toward* the messenger. “Fine day,”, he said, as he took the note. “Extremely, sir,” said Webster, out wardly unemotional, inwardly full of a grave pity. It was plain to him that there had been no previous little rift to prepare the young man for the cervical opera tion which awaited hint, and he edged a little nearer, in order to he handy to catch Sam If the shock kuocked him off the gate. As it happened, It did not. Having read the opening words of the note, Sam rocked violently; but his feet were twined about the lower bars and this saved him from overbalancing. Webster stepped back, relieved. The note fluttered to the ground. Webster, picking it up und banding It back, was enabled to get a glimpse of the first two sentences. They con firmed his suspicions. The note was hot stuff. Assuming that It continued as It began, It was about the warmest tiling of its kind that pen had ever written. Webster had received one or two heated epistles from the sex In his time—your man of gallantry can hardly hope to escape these unpleas antnesses —but none bad got off the mark quite so swiftly, and with quite so much frigid violence as tills. •‘Thanks,” said Sum, meclianicnliy. “Not at all. sir. You are very wel come. Sain resumed Ills reeding. A cold perspiration broke out on tiis fore head. His toes curled, and something seemed to be crawling down the small of Ills back. His heart had moved from its proper place and was now beating in his throat. lie swallowed once,or twice to remove the obstruc tion, hut without .success. A kind of pal! bud descended on the landscape, blotting out the sun. Of all the rotten sensations In tills Wotfid, the 'worst ’is the realization that a • thotisniid-10-orie chance lias come off, and caused our wroug-doing to he detected. .There had seemed no possibility of that little ruse of his be ing‘discovered, and' yet here was Billie in full possession of the facts. It al most, made the worse that she did, pot say how -she* laid ’ come Into possession, of them. ; This gave Bum that feeling of self-pity, that sense of having been 111-used by fate, which makes the brifigjng home of crime so particularly pbigriant. “Fine day 1” he muttered. He had n sort of subconscious feeling that it was imperative U> keep engaging Web ster In light conversation. “Yee. sir. Weather still keeps up,' agreed-the valet suavely. Sain frowned over tho note. He felt injured. Sending a fellow notes didn’t give him a cbnnce. If site had come in person and denounced him it would not have been an agreeable experience put at least it .would have been pos sible then to have .pleaded and* cajoled and—and alj that sort of tiring. But what could he do now? It seemed to liiih that Iris only possible course wai to write a note in reply,* begging he* to see trim. He explored his pockets and foynd u pencil and a sernp of pn per. For some moments lie scribbled desperately. Then he folded the note. “Will you take this to jllqs Bennett*’’ lie said, holding it out. Webster took the missive, becnuwi he wunted to read it later at bis leisure; but lie shook Ids bead. ’ “Useless, 1 fear, sir,” lie said gravely. “What do yommean?” “I am afraid it would effect llttls or nothing, sir, sending our Miss IV notes. She is not in the proper frame of mind to appreciate thpm. I saw her face when she handed me the ha ter you have just read, abd I assuro you, sis, she is not in u malleabfo mood.” “You seem to know a lot about Itr 1 “I have studied the sex, *sir,” salt! Webster modestly. “I mean, übout my business, cofk found It I Y’ou seem to know all about It I” ‘ -<■ “Why/yes sir, I think I may say that I have grasped the position of affairs. And, If you will permit me to suy so, sir, you have my respectful sympathy.’’ Dignity is a sensitive plant which flourishes only under the fairest condi tions. Sam’s had perished in the bleak east wind of Billie’s note. In other circumstances he# might’ have resented this Intrusion of a stronger Into tits most intimate concerns. His only emotion now, was one of dull but dis tinct gratitude. The |our winds of heaven blew .chilly upon his raw nnd unprotected soul, and he wanted to wiaif .it. up.-In a mantle of sympathy, careless of the source from which he borrowed that mantle. If Webster, the valet, felt disposed, ns’Jie seemed to indicate, to comfort him. let the thing go on. ; At tltot moment Sam wonld have accepted condolences from a coal .heaver, . , . was' reading a story’—one of the Nosegay Novelettes; I do not know If you are familiar with the series, sir?— In which mtich'the same situation oc curred. It was entitled ‘Cupid or Mam rnon 1’ The heroine, Lady Blanche Tre fusls, forced by tier parents to wed * wealthy suitor) dispatches a note to her humble lover. Infotfining him it cannot lie. I believe It Often happens like that, sir.” - “You’re all. wrong,” said. Sam. “It’s not that at nil.” “Indeed, sir? I supposed it was.” “Nothing like It! I—I —” Sam’s dignity, on Its death-bed. made a last effort to assert Itself. “I don’t know what It’s got to do with you 1” “Precisely, sir I” said Webster, with I dignity. “Just us you say I Good af ternoon. sir!" (TO BE CONTINUED.) No man with a full beard has to worry about the Christmas neckties his friends give him. Wit Is the salt of conversation, , the food mu Humor NEVER HEARD OF HER The movies look to all sorts of. sources for their material and there have been (livings in many strange Helds. One talented young writer thought of trying out mythology. So he went to his general manager with the story of Diana. The general manager viewed with some Interest the illustration pre sented. “Who is she?” “Diana, goddess of the chase." “Well, she's a pretty fair looker, hut we ain't making any more chase*pte-‘ hires.” A SOUND ARGUMENT Mr. l’ester —No! 1 can’t afford two thousand dollars for a car. Ills Wife —But it wih be a real economy. Just think how much It will save this season on ray walking cos tumes. A Wallflower. "And how do you like codfish balls?" I said to Sister Jeatito. > • ■ She said, “I really couldn't say— I’ve never been to any.” No Ear for Music. "lias your daughter finished her mu sical education?" "I suppose so,” answered Mr. Twob ble, “but sometimes when she Is play ing one of those - classical pieces It seems to me that she Is starting to learn all over again.” Answer, Short and Snappy. Housewife —Every morning it’s the same story, Lena, always late. How many more times mn I to fret about this? Lena—Ten times, Mrs. Sharp. To day is the twentieth, I leave on the first. The Very Place. Sweet Young Tiling Driving Through Suburb —Would you like to see where 1 was vaccinated? He (with enthusiasm) —Sure. S. Y. T. (pointing toward house they had Just passed)—Well, right in there. NOT LIKE THE MEN Woman’s work is never done. And she doesn’t get time and u half for overtime, either. May It Be Ever Thus. With flowing cheeks anl sparklln* eyes, That youth vivacious hath — Attended by her stately groom, She took the bridal path. Hard to Tel l . Father--What’s your mother doing? Walter (who has Just come down stairs)—She’s either dressing for a party or going to bed. Generous Term*. Mrs. Newgilt—Yes, I advertised fot a competent Instructor to teach me to play craps. What do you charge? The Crap Expert— When they shoots for real money, lady, I don’t make no •barge for the lessons. At Bea. OM Maid—l suppose you have beet In tlie navy so long you are accus tomed to sea leys.* Middle—Lady. I wasn't even lookin’. - Mutual Magazine. Fortissimo. “Fhwnt’s lhat noise, Mrs. Mulcnhy?* “It’s me daughter Maggie runnln' up and down th’ scales.” “Begorra, she must weigh a ton.” Whaddja Mean? “I*a, how did those prehistoric mon ster look?” “I really can’t remember that, sonny; ask your mother.” Knew It Already. “Now-, Johnny, don’t your conscience ell you you have done wrong?” “No. grandma ; I knew It already."