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“THE GATES OF SILENCE” *■ FIRST READ THIS:— JACK RIMINGTON. the hero of the story, and a man with a mysterious se cret. proposes to and is accepted by BETTY LUMSDEN, the charming: young daughter of SIR GEORGE LUMSDEN, who. however, is opposed to Jack because of the lat ter's poverty, but favors PAUL SAXE, a milli<<naire, whom Betty has refused to marry after telling him that she is engaged to Jack. Betty's sister. MRS EDITH BARRINGTON, suddenh returns fmm France and horrifies Betty 1 v declaring that her first husband. EDMOND LEVASSEUR, whom she married secretly when a girl, and whom <he th< ught dead, has appeared and demands 2.000 pounds f$10,000) in ten days Hire. <»r he will tell ANTHONY BARRINGTON ever} thing only four days are left and Mrs. Bar rngton hoc- Rctiv to borrow the monej from Saxe Betty is horrified at the proposal and refuses, but after a frantic appeal from her sister, con sents —Now Go On With the Story She felt the eyes of Hie girl behind the counter in the library pierce her when she passed through the shop to the box 006! Citx ' Once the number was given |;< r nerve steadied a Idtle. Her voice was quite normal when, the ordeal of getting through over she spoke Saxes name Mr Saxo is in. But who's speak ing' 1 Miss Lumsden” Hold on will you’ And then Paul Saxe's voice: “Tl at \ mt. Miss Betty'* G<x»d morning This is a ver> peasant surprlsr "J want to see Mr Saxe I was dreadfull;, disappointed to find you gone No. it isn't a bit kind of me to say it. 1 The Dmgbat h aiizily Pah-PAH Decides to Stay Home copyright nn, National News Associate J3y HeWimaH> Nov Mow, we dikopatA [on my ves ) z I ~ , UJE HAVE. THE PRETDEbT —"x \ ' WBCL U»E IL GO UP THE PfAlrt >. Z.OVLIE.ST MOW L lARAtIA)(, \ C OUT A LbOOD Coffer HOUSE, k I C —x [ \ T T A ./2 0ftL - EWTE * ° ftDe * A P ° TOU COFFEE V fl HEHE. v A 1 them y iREHOLB BBFORE OUP. VERY • -/ Am AFOOT' (PASSES The WORLDS z ... < CC \ \ GREATEST AORA? 0A f /OM PASTURE. , \ A®* 7 ' a V < CCA -‘ r vCILSf \i. ') HE,e -.PEMIAPAE- f (OH FEAST OF A i ’x B fl I1 Uk K7 5w .-P T vs-el/ Ir A. • y Vou Thrill Yl Sty g !r /.GW ’\ -T rifll tyo el V«a a . ! 7 -'iT / ilJdz 15 // " A- ftp rBLA 7 £flr g • a? J tDvBxWNsJ Vr C “-le fpr Cows ofY i Any My i7d| YmTl 7oaY~Y ftuHEae&S CIWE t /on \ JOST'SKEA)] /boMY Z.KT N/m get ) \ WEAfe 7hw WUI/ \ IP vw fe VSOLLV 7 ) S A'O Mauk aaa , \ *2. f hrazv W and yL I hAT H£ . ■. Alt lA> cA I -1 —-- ■ < T . » k Alow LOOKV WHAT, f\jTEAß__Y£U_j ''■ .;■ ,?. “■ ' ■ (YZZZZLZZZI * — l3 ' . ——- — —J L_ Sherlocko the Monk The Episode of the Fleeing Burglar Copyright. 1912, National News Ass'n By Gus Mager QUICL SHF.RIOCko! J | J \N mats THE matter,- IpNecL, ncw that we're I Ytes and the J \NATsc, will Too never. LEeRN To a no, i igflMi O [ aren't you comini- 9 ) ’ AlvA ' t ' FRCM 7cuß h cuse 1 fine! she'll i observe ' couldn't you see that A GEAR. CH/XS>& M ~'j j your, \nife can't sec \ guess that . Your supposed burglak was Puffihg\ O M ggf;g ! us vne can stew dcwnjtoJ.) to%et Zwlt c.g-ar. although app a^ent LY ) L I ||i T COR ) Miiregßw b 11' ( 1 » IB x *=>\ ■ '» . A J k '% g||F I • < ' . |Foqled his wife \ i x U-t" H .b < 7 i I FUGUE . I ( iAS IVELL AS ME '. \ 1 ( 9UKIBI IJ • * ( -tlk p ■ 4 fBURGLARs'.I I - |'H /' JlT’i'x- ' STO . 1 -x.- <ir ct 'tuii OcscjKri - - L_ IA" Afr. Jack :: :: copyrißht ' i9u -4^v l^ ternation, “ News ;; ;; By Swinnerton I- -EOVv DOYOU-DC MISS KiTYY>V>>' Yw !Q _ ' rOH WHY i- OH EYThE'NAY CVRGOTA HOV\ I > 7 -7> Ynuß THROAT WRAPPED? 4 11 • < W» A HIGH SIDEWALK.. YOUTDmEET HEA E V' 1 LX>vELY l 7M'm'S IS my FRIEND VETEyX j[ I, k UP -" ) J fYOU WILL LET me)'! 1 BUN, a k EI b’S- handsomest man ” bAW' l < take youto.my h ' Y fTVk < d7e™« HAw'jjwj'-T— 7 —CY 4PL v^CLL. WHAT I WBM& Xy 1 J -0 7OU?k/o®; ( Aw.i.willV 7V Dm Y send C' — y Jyj W&L 'to KEEP . ■•sYjjsHF A 4c) jjWaßr forme a iwaak vqu quiet:;; ■"''/> it e Hr wL ftWHisOwWJL VL' ([Sr ri/ P?/ y w\k W rn V*.—'-' .——l N.— ■■ ■'■'■■■ ■' , I ■■_juim.il ■■■■■—l. 1 1 ! ■■ ■ ■>■■ I I■ I " ' —rSTT LT.y.J ”■■' .■■■■" ■'" ■JLL 1 .1 ..”?.-L^Jr2=±2Jg.” l .r 1 ■■■■■■A-JT—"' ■" I ■■■■■—■■■■ I ...I« ■■ ■ ... _,,, ~„ , 1 want to trespass »»n your friendship al ready. to ask you a favor.' "I* Is granted already." “Oh, no; it’s not so easily disposed of as all that." She was gaining courage It was easier than she could have imagined possible to speak with the barrier of space between them. I-I’m in trouble. I want you to help me" *Tm sorry to hear that’ What is it? Don't think me brutal, but is ir money'.’" 'Yes ' "Well. now. how much? Tell me." Far off and thinking as bis voice was. it seemed to Betty that it had <bange<i "I can't here," Betty said, desperately. rtir. aijljAjn jla ulukijiaa AaAD i\rAVft: r itiiJA y, aiai ji, ‘ <’an I see you—can't I run up? I wouldn’t keep you long. It's—it’s very serious.’’ was a pause, a confused buazlng of the wires For a moment the girl dreaded that Saxe was about to ring off. "How much is it? No. you must tell me. Two thousand pounds! Good Lord I beg your pardon, but it is a fairly large sum.’’ • "An immense, an impossible, sum." Betty’s cheeks were flaming; the hand that pressed the receiver against her ear shook. "No. not that. You shall have it with pleasure But there are difficulties. I'd like to see you indeed, 1 must. Unfor tunately. I'm going away tomorrow- for a month or so, and today well, today’s practically impossible, unless" "I'm afraid after today it will be use less." Betty said. "Well ■ Are you there? Yes. Now. look he»*; It needs pluck, but you have that. \\ ill you come up to my rooms to night? I hate to ask yon to do it. I’d ask no other woman; she'd imagine— well, you know But you’re different. 1 know this must be serious; you wouldn’t have askGl me else. N<>w. it's not pos sible to see ynu till late this evening. Could you come to my rooms here* at Tempest street about eleven?" Betty hesitated. Her first impulse was to ring off It was an insult a studied insult \ mint swam before her eyes. It wa3 only mechanically that her hand held the receiver in place. Then across A Story of Love, Mystery and Hate, with a dL Thrilling Portrayal of Life Behind Prison Bars the wires came the tinkling voice: "I guess I know what you’re thinking, Miss Betty. Il's natural, but it’s far wide of the mark. Honestly. I want to help you. but it’s not in my power to see you till then, and I suggest Tempest street because we can talk there quietly perhaps I can help you in other ways than money—and we couldn't do that, in a more public place. I’ve got an excellent old housekeeper who will assuage the anxiety of Mrs. Grundy." Surely he was to be trusted? And the matter one of hours now. Beggars could not be choosers. "I’ll—come." she said "Bravo- I'm grateful for your trust in me—l admire your pluck." Betty walked nut of the library quick ly, her face white and set. The young woman behind the counter who wished her a civil "Good morning" tossed her head wdth quite justifiable indignation. What was Miss Lumsden that she should look at her as though she did not exist? But. indeed, for Betty In that moment she did not exist. • • ♦ Leaning bark in the corner of the cab, .Jack Rimington examined the letter once again. It was by the merest fluke that It had reached him at bis lodgings in Chan dos street, only that unexpected wire from West port that bad delayed his de parture till tomorrow was accountable fur his being in London at all, and there fore at Mr. I’aul Saxe's service. "And what the deuce does that suave individual require of me?" he asked him self, scanning the lines that, in a man s bold handwriting, set forth as follows: "88-B Tempest Street. W. C. "Dear Mr. Rimington: I would esteem it a favor of the greatest possible kind If you could call upon me at my rooms in Tempest street tonight at 11:30. I should hesitate to ask this, knowing as I do your engagements at the moment, were not the matter one of the most urgent impor tance. not only to yourself, but to the lady I understand Is to be your wife. “PAUL SAXE.” "Hang his impudence!" Jack had said when he read that. “How much does he know?" But wIM horses would not Have kept him back from Temple street that night, as no doubt Mr. Saxe probably knew. The name of Tempest street recalled memories to Rimington. but rather shad owy ones. He was surprised at Mr. Saxe's choice of address. A suite at the Savoy or some such caravansary seemed so very much more in the line of that magnificent personage. As he turned into the street his wonder deepened. It was such an odd neighbor hood, this, for a man of Saxe’s fastidious ness to choose to lodge in this place of narrow streets and tall, .lull houses whose windows bore a sly, curtained look. There were flower boxes in some of the win dows boxes filled with common flowers, nasturtiums and geraniums, that hung drooping in the heat. Here and there at the top of one or tw r oof the area steps, women were standing, w’ho slunk below as he passed and regarded him furtively from their doorsteps. He was one of the least imaginative of young man: his nerves were in superb condition; yet, for all that, be was con scious that there seemed to be about this still, old street an almost palpable at mosphere of gloom and depression— something more—an atmosphere of actual fear. No. 88-B was a house, if possible, more dingy' than the rest. The long, unpainted stucco W'as peeling from the bricks, and the uneven stone of the steps looked as though it had not known water and a scrubbing brush for a decade. On the railings a small brass plate bore the name, "J. J. Fitzstephen.” The Carrion Crow. The sight of that discolored plate brought those vague memories to a dis tinct coherence. “J. J. Fitzstephen.” Jack Rimington remembered now, with a sudden straightening of the shoulders and a hardening of the lips. That was the euphonious sobriquet of the carrion crow w’ho had picked poor Toby’s bones white. For the moment he suspected a trap. Could the blackguard have got some inkling or suspicion of what lay in store for him? Could he be in league with Saxe, or Saxe with him? Almost before the. thought was definite Rimington dis missed it. He hated Saxe, mainly, per haps, because, until a day or two since. By META SIMMINS Author of ‘ * Hushed Up ’ ’ he dreaded in him the successful rival; but he did not believe that of him. Fitz stephen was a pariah even to his own class. It was merely a coincidence that had brought the men to lodge under one roof. Perhaps, no doubt, in fact, the house belonged to the money-lender and he let it out as chambers for bachelors. The fact that the hall door stood wide open lent countenance to the idea. Rim ington entered it and looked for a name rack on the inner wall instinctively. It was while he looked, and looked in vain, that he became aware bew'ilderingly' of the intricate chorus of ticking clocks. He wondered it there was a watchmaker’s shop next door, and turned to see. with a new astonishment, the manner of en trance hall in which he stood. If a man is to be judged by the house he inhabits, what a strange man Saxe must be! That was Rimington’s first thought. Then he sickened, remembering the house was Fitzstephen’s, the usurer. No doubt these things, singly so valuable and lovely, so tragically ugly in their hud dled confusion, were wreckage from halt a hundred of the homes that he had ruined. And as he stood there staring about him in the economical glimmer of light to which the solitary gas Jet had been turned, sharply through the stillness of the house, whose silence, save for the tlck-tacklng of the clocks, seemed to brood like a tangible presence, came the sharp shrillness of a frightened woman’s cry. To be Continued Tomorrow.