Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

“THE GATES OF SILENCE” FIRST READ THIS:— JACK RIMINGTON, the hern of the story, and a man with a mysterious se cret, proposes tn 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 •O PAUL SAXE, a millionaire, whom Betty has refused to marry after telling him ’ that she is engaged 1o Jack. Betty’s sister, MRS. EDITH BARRINGTON, suddenly returns from France and horrifies Betty by declaring that her first husband. EDMOND LEVASSEUR, whom she married secretly when a girl, and whom she thought dead, has appeared and demands 2.000 pounds <$10,000) in ten days’ time, nr he will tell ANTHONY BARRINGTON everything only four days are left and Mrs Bar rington begs Bettx to borrow the money from Saxe Betty is horrified at the proposal and refuses, but after a frantic appeal from her sister, con sents. The next da\ Betty telephones to Saxe and he consents to give her the money, but insists that she call at his house at 11 o’clock that night Betty can not refuse That afternoon Rimington gets a note from Saxe asking him to < all at 11:30 o'clock that night Rimington is puzzled, but goes a lid is astonished to see the nameplate of J, J. FITZSTEPH ENS, on the railing, this man being the money-lender whose persecutions drove TOBY RIMINGTON, Jack’s brother, to South Africa Rimington ascends the stairs, but is startled tn hear a woman s scream He dashes Into a room and finds tn his horror Betty standing over a dead man with a dagger in her hand The lights suddenly go nut Jack calls. '‘Betty!" Betty van ishes in the darkness and Rimington manages to escape from the house In which he has been trapptWi Meantime Mrs Barrington anxiously awaits the return of Bett\. who ultimately arrives. In a distressed and exhausted condition without the money. Nevertheless, the SIO,OOO reaches Mrs Bar rinrton by post the next morning Who has sent this ’ hush money. ' as it Is described in the letter? And what terril’le myster> is Betty Involved in? These are the questions Mrs. Barrington asks herself Barrington surprises his wife and father-in-law bx suddenly returning from Taris —Now Go On With the Story Sir George wheeled round, and. at the sight of his son-in-law. the already apo plectic red in his cheeks deepened. “Good Lord! W here on earth have you sprung from, \nthony ’ - ' He stared at ■ his son-in-law. the prej of an amaze- The Dingbat Family Copyright 1912, National News Association By Herriman MV 600DAIE5S TMEpfc «T\ \ \ \ , .I/✓ : OMI4, ICK ( HE. 15 SUCH A AMOTHEft OAIE. CP The At \ ' \ \ \ A 7 -A—T” 5, fAjE-NEfcOUS DOfe - YOU SF£. He 6/v£3 IAMTM TUfe. G Of 5 POURBOA/ —— \ ' \ \ . / Tjt \ _ X COAL-OtL WHAT MS WAS’ . _ f ON AIS A'ECK I'LL Jl/gT / \ A— \ ' ' ' BRIMGINfe To TH E- ‘ MOSPi tE. . P(.V( DfcAD' CdA* A / ~ A \\ A \ _ \\ I X. == ~ ~ \ PURPOSE &OF SWIG out of H im \ \ - ' / \ My Y e~ & - \ wxxms y* Twv--- • B a 'wßsr** i '"■■■ ' ' -" _ —• ~" ruTTrA Au' MFl’p') fMM T.OODNF-SS ' (TInCSTVEUI. T (GOOD O(D') . Z (HELPI 0M JtF'T \ ItAiATCES /.OST / \ DT nt «ak ' n \ - ' _ / Vln the- SNOW-, f iZfe _ ——_ -I - _— ■— Rhymo the Monk With His Dog He Takes a Jog jjjg Copyright, 1912, National News Ass’n By Gus Mager T— —I r ; r ! F n? ————————-n YOU A-RF A VEmr pIRTT PUP ! \ TWCY SAY ,rH,LP S THESES \ AFTER ™F ENERVATING HJfX A NIFTIFR FV.’ ia< * SEEN I \ MAbF - AN AWFUL MUDDLE LM Scwa TO Tol , | Am „ 15AMIWSS WHIU f X > ——.r— V L-2 CLEAN. PUOOL. J ( k\ ' ' 2 , / ( J p X I-JL'T . ' S < dj w ( \ / z / ) / ! hTt ' . J '< \ I i '///T/4 f ( < "j-T \ x y Ai ■ " 1 'Q H'T 4 ( \' ' P ,rr F ' Mr. Jack and His Friend Petey :: :: c oP^t . m 3 . s byx e . s ;; :: Swinnerton 1 /in s - T¥' w “zzETEn ' ■'l 11? X P I'V /7 VW HELLO z- 4 CYOUReAANB. \d)Uj; r v_—L-, uuititu r t 1 one To HELP W T> (You will tale me TO OH. mES a funny looking \ A Fallow / S itfu I 'PSST I I CONST i&land.mzont she'aShtsto I Bounder. SC C IA r n*-—I You mkpetey ? • r 7> Goto coney handsome .you really EgWl YtSjALLWwff PETey ' —l Petey ’ ) k J_4l[Z sure I ‘l k must take mepetey ’ uglily OLQ WS a \ZxL' ment so profound that the very experi ence of it was an insult. “<*ome in come in. 1 did not know I was to be honored by your company at breakfast, nr I should have made an effort to pro vide. something more worthy than the rFTF ATLANTA GEORGIAN AXD'NEWS. WEDNESDAY. JENE 5. 1912. congealed kidneys and marbled bacon that are on the table Hodson, send the boy down to the village on his bicycle for a ‘Times.’ ” “Oh, don t do that. Sir George.’’ Bar rington said., easily, as he shook hands. “I’ll smooth these pages out in no time; and they ought to smell deliciously— they’ve been careering for the last ten minutes about the rose garden. I’m most awfully sorry to have shown such disre spect for the ’Thunderer,’ but I was so extraordinarily interested in a particular item of news that I lost my grip on the confounded thing, and an unexpected capful of wind tore it out of my hand." There was something in Barrington's more than usually suave voice, something in the slightly veiled look of amusement in his eyes, that, if it did not claim Sir George s buffled feelings, at least mad* 1 him grasp after his self-control. He glanced at the son-in-law who had dropped to his knees on th** floor, and was straightening out the pages of the paper with those beautiful, sensitive looking hands that always irritated, w-hile they compelled his admiration. The Newspaper Item. “Good Lord!" he said again. “Don’t do that, Anthony there’s no necessity. Hodson, lake those pages from Mr Bar rington Come" he made an almost ludicrous effort to throw’ some hospitable heartiness into his voice “where are you going to sit, Anthony? Take Betty’s place I believe my daughter is affecting an indisposition this morning and tell us what this amazing item of information was that actually Interested you in a com- A Story of Love, Mystery and Hate, with a Thrilling Portrayal of Life Behind Prison Bars mon daily newspaper. I thought you never read ’em." “Neither do I, in a general way," Bar rington said. “Not English newspapers, anyway. But this happened* to be some thing with a personal application--a mur der, in which the principal characters ap pear to be acquaintances of mine. Neither of them particularly reputable, f hasten to add, though, no doubt the name of one of them may be familiar to you—Mr. J J. Fitzstephen." "The money lender—J. J. Fitzstephen, of Tempest street?’’ Barrington stared at his father-In-lav* for a second, hardly realizing for the mo ment that the question had come from him—the voice Ip which it was uttered was so flat and thin. Sir George was pulling at his white mustache with nerv ous fingers, the purple tingle In his face strangely faded. "The same man. fine of the most no torious scoundrels that ever cumbered the earth." Barrington said, sternly. “It’s not a healthy thing to say, put one can feel it in one’s heart to be glad that his power for doing evil is at an end. No doubt, the poor wretch who has put his head in the hangman's noose for him had suffered enough at his hands to be excused any act of mad justice. Not that his own record is particularly sa vory.’’ He paused, conscious that Sir George was not listening to him, and his eyes fell on his wife. "Some one you know, Tony?" The question was forced from Edith Barrington. She felt her lips fumble over the words for the imprisoned fear in her heart was stirring with a dull pain. It was ridiculous. What connection could there be between Betty and this uglj' thing of which Tony spoke—and yet her fingers closed on that sltj# of paoer that had fallen from Betiy’a' hand, the slip on which was written this very address: 88-B Tempest street. She felt extraordi narily ill at ease., conscious of her father's strange agitation, of her husband’s more than half-cOntemptuous appreciation of -it. She had a maddening feeling of being caught suddenly in the meshes of a net of mystery that was tightening -strangling!}- about her. "Yes. darling," Barrington said, cheer fully, snapping a piece of”the cold toast between his fingers. “One of those dis reputable acquaintances nt nrine you so often deplore. A chap who was with me in the schools more ago than I care to remember. It's one of the oddest things out that it was only the other day that I knocked up against him in Paris by a quite mad accideeit. Edmond Levas seur, he calls himself. I expect I'm one of the few people in the world who hap pens to know that was not his name" "Edmond Levasseur!” Edith Barring-' ton was utterly unconscious that she had repeated the name aloud. She stared at her husband with wide eyes that were full of horror. The air of the gay chintz hung room that was bright with the early morning sunshine had turned suddenly cold. The spectre of the past had started up here on its very threshold and was knocking long and loudly on the door of her heart. But Barrington was utterly unconscious of the horror that was deepening in his By META SIMMINS Author of “Hushed Up ’ ’ wife's eyes—he was so entirely bent on shocking the fastidiousness of his father in-law. "Yes —Levasseur. I expect I must have Spoken of him to you—a perverted genius if there ever was one. An absolutely charming ruffian; and the end of it all to hang for a peculiarly ugly and sordid murder”— "Hang!” interjected Mrs. Barrington, stupidly. ‘‘Oh, no, it isn't possible. He can’t hang." Barrington glanced at her with a touch of irritation. He disliked contradiction it was a darling weakness of his, of which, as a rule, his wife was tenderly regard fui. ‘‘Now, why on earth do you say that, Edith?” he asked. “Os course, he will hang He was caught red-handed on the very spot where the crime was commit ted. The plainest case of murder and theft possible. He was after Fitzstephen’s famous ruby—the Lake of Blood—a re markably beautiful thing that has se duced hundreds before him into crime. It was found upon him when the police arrested him in Tempest street last night.” The Crouching Fate. At the sudden stoppage of the cab Rim ington glanced up with a stare and met the eyes of the chauffeur, his hand closing over the jewel and the bag that had held it. There was a healthy curi osity in the driver's eyes, but no malice The nervous tension that had gripped Rimington relaxed with an almost intol erable sense of relief "What's up?" he asked, over the chauffeur's shoulder he caught a glimpse of the vista of an unfamiliar street and a gateway with high, wooden £ates. set carelessly ajar—the entrance, apparently, to a stable yard. “This is not'Charing' Cross.” he said, with a sudden upleap ing of suspicion. “No. guUnor, you're right. It ain't,” the little man said with a grin. "But this here's my garage, and I'm goin' no fur ther this mornin'. You're within easy walking distance o’ —there, nod, if 1 ain’t clean forgot the address you give me! Clean forgot it, 1 have. Twig? No more ain't 1 taken up any fare between here and the Square—blest if I ave. Twig?" He pointed to the fare-indicator, that had indeed registered nothing, for the flag was still set. "For Hire.” Riming ton slipped Betty's bag and the things it had contained back into the pocket of his coat and shook his head. “I'm afraid I don't twig,” he said. "Why this burst of philanthropy—and why the dickens can't you drive me to the Strand?” But he got out of the taxi as he spoke, and. stood with bis hand fum bling in his waistcoat pocket. The chauffeur, who was busy unfasten ing the strap of his number badge from his buttonhole, looked up and winked. “A hobby o' mine, philanthropy,” h< said. “Tikes me sudden-llke sometimes, like a spasm, as yer might say. Speshully when I sees a gent o’ your profession at this hour, with them nasty stines on 'ls cuffs and sparklers In ‘ls ’and.” Rimington glanced down with a thrill of nausea at his cuff, and made an -in voluntary movement to push it back. The chauffeur laughed. Continued Tomorrow.