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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 accented Ity 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 FAUL SAXE, a millionaire, whom Betty has refused to marry after telling him that she is engaged to lack 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, or he will tell ANTHONY BARRINGTON everything <»nb four days are left and Mrs Rar ring’tnn bep<* Rett\ tn bnmm the money from Saxe Betty is horrified at the proposal and refuses, hut after a frantic appeal from her sister, con sents. The next da\ Betty telephones to Saxe and he consents tn give her the money, hut insists that she call at his house at 11 o’clock that night ' Betty ran not refuse. I'hat afternoon Rimington gets a note ftom Saxe asking him to call at 11:30 o'clock that night Rimingtnn is puzzled, but goes and is astonished to see the nameplate of J. J. FITZSTEPH ENS. on the ratling, this man being the money-lender whose persecutions drove * TOBY RIMINGTON. .lack's brother, to South .Africa Rimington ascends the stairs, but is startled to hear a woman’s scream. H* dashes into a room and finds to his horror Betty standing oxer a dead man with a dagger in her band The lights suddenly go out .lack calls. "Betty!” Betty van ishes in the darkness and Rimington manages to escape from the house in which he has been trapped. Meantime Mrs Barrington anxiously awaits the return of Betty, who ultimately arrives. In a distressed and exhausted condition, without the money Nevertheless, the slo.oon reaches Mrs Bar rington by post the next morning. z Who has sent this hush money. ' as it is described in the letter? And what terrible mystery is Retty involved in!* These are the questions Mrs Barrington asks herself Barrington surprises his wife and father-in-law by suddenly returning from Paris —Now Go On With the Story Sir George wheeled round, and. at the eight of his son-in-law. the already apo plectic red in his cheeks deepened "Good Ixrrd’ Where on earth have you sprung from. Anthony?” He stared at his son-in-law. the prey of an amaze f 1 ClTnily Ah. the So-Kind Mastiff of the Alps .Copyright 1912, National News Association Ry -j 'ToH Aiy 60ODAJ TMrPgTN \ \ \ ‘ r/ , V APcOR. boMMHCK, HE. >5 SUCH A 3 A ' I MOTHER. OAIE. OP TME-M \ \ \ \ V JCJENEROUS DOfe - VOU s££. He 6/VES (ST OERVAQD PESCUE DOCrS X ~= '• X _ ' \ \ KWA?- v VOL A D«)*JK ' EVEAJ IF IT IS •j IAHTH TUfe. M'e.G BOURBOAI __zz—- X • •. .\ \ - . zJT \ _ X CoAl-OiL LVM4T Mg !VA5> . f OAI MIS /VECK /2l JUST /*~ A. . 1 ’U' \ ' =' . ( gß>\)6lAlfe To THE- "MOSAIC E FoftJ I ni*AD' AAIO CCA* A /“-=A AXA . \ \\ \ -== - \ =_—\ PURPOSES OF H.LUM' M AVO/V / <SWI6 OUT or HIM V \\ \ = \ V- ■ I ' Yes YF < Ji vfL \ t r w- »TL.,. - '-■• ■ • ■ ■ - • ' '? ' ■ > . T- " '■ ~7hp7?) f GOODNESS (TkIfcyTYFDU T f ©OOD Olt>\ '■ ,p a , ' ' 'Sjr \ I6MAT2E.S COST / j UTTIt "**•' \ ■ KRAIY - ®“~ / _ \JN TMF- SMOWJ- " - 2 -< =l_ /’y77~K~, X T7a-- - 7TT< - '’■ ■ ——* ———-1 ——— HhymO the Monk With His Dog He Takes a Jog gg Copyright, ISI2. National News Ass'n By Gus Magei I WMJ A’.F A V'F.T tXRTT Pup”? ( TWC ' ' MAT U ’ HHF Te2s UPE (WESES ( AFTER THE pNeRVATIHe- TUA. . I \ W| -' r (*S MADE AH AW rue MtJOOSE v - I Moor I \ A NIFTIER DOfS- T/Ag NEVER SEtN r° M Se,l,a ? '“** Tou U M (, A«r- eLEAHUHesv wh.ee u, e have soap- J° ME4 2 22* AT "‘ e RUB ’ J WM6N Wee 1 ® ET rou «"E ‘"O 1' BT H '~ G ™“ T C "- r “’ ) ■> < \ ■<—" ~ "C~ < . c L6 a«. I Purou ' ) L W7\’l 1 ) zZ/ ' ) ' ' ' ifTi A '-Tt/? L- rs? Ji, ' s 'ti,A Tits Kix '''-wJigJ® ■i IIIHIIIIII 111 ill Ml II 111 PW—- - - - Mr. Jack and His Friend Petey :: :: TW ■ m: &.. By Swinnerton H~ ’ TO 2. [Wa. “ . . ■ (p|s. ’ -Qi.p k-Lm; /'OH HELLO f —— I — (*Toure a fine r\ wlltakemeto (‘oh.he's a funny looking \ < a fe3^ <- x fflFu’" 1 *P3ST ' coney island, wont , she wants to BouuDeß. AMDYOURE so \out\i llget r D«w~l« I You MrFetKY?- GO-TOCDnV HANDSOME YOU REALLY pETEy ’ I 1 I Petey’ ) —v- z 7i' [ suee!) island.you'll \must take me petey '. t u R< * T AMD WfTH X w- / *“ T ’^ r ~ 1 , peach'* —‘ Jm ot O M i.C-4 Uir JW Ml 'w 'v- ’"it # t —■■■—■ -M— Ml 111 ■■ ■'-> B,| ~ W ■!,■■■ ( -*—> - —A., , ... . _ . 1 !• __ W men* so profound that the very experi ence of it was an insult. "Come in onme In I did not know I was to be honored by your company at breakfast, or I should have made an effort to pro vide more worthy than the PRE ATLANTA GEORGIAN AND NEWS. WEDNESDAY. .TTNE 5. 1912. congealed kidneys and marbled bacon that are on the table. Hodson, send the boy down to the village <>n 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 deliriously 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 cnnfnunde<l 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 Ids ryes. that, if it did not claim Sir Georges ruffled feelings, at lea.st made him grasp after his self-control. He glanced at the son-in-law who Ha<i dropped to his knees on the floor, and was straightening out the pages of the paper with those beautiful. sen.slttve looking hands that always irritated, while they compelled his admiration The Newspaper Item. 'Good Lord!” he said again "Ddn'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. Anthon* ■ Take Betty’s place I believ? my daughter Is affecting an indisposition this morning and tell us what this amazing item of information was that actual!' 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. I hasten to add, though, no doubt the name of one of them may be familiar to you—Mr. J. I Eitzstephen.” "The money lender J. J. Eitzstephen, of Tempest street'”’ Barrington stared at his father-In-law for a second, hardly realizing for the mo ment that the question had come from him —the voice In 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 one of the most no torious scoundrels that ever cumbered the earth.” Barrington said, sternly. "It’s not a healthy thing to say. but 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 atxhis hands to be excused any act of mad justice Not that bls own record is particularly sa vory.’’ He paused, conscious that Sir George was not listening to him. and his eyes fell on h!s 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 he between Betty and this ugly thing of which Tony spoke—and yet her fingers closed on that slip of paper that had fallen from Betty's 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 stranglingly about her. "Yes, darling." Barrington said, cheer fully, snapping a piece of the cold toast between his fingers. “One of those dis reputable acquaintances of mine you so often deplore. A oj:ap who was with me in the schools more years ago than I care to remember, ft’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 accident 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-hts 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 wife’s eyes—he was so entirely hent on shocking the fastidiousness of his father in-law. ’‘Yes—Levasseur. 1 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 regardful. "Now, why on earth do you say that, Edith?" he asked. ’Y3f 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 wdth an almost Intol erable sense of relief. "What’s up?" he asked. Over the chauffeur’s shoulder he caught a glimpse By META SIMMINS Author of “Hushed Up' ’ i of the vista of an unfamiliar street and a - gateway with high, wooden gates, set carelessly ajar—the entrance, apparently. » to a stable yard. "This Is not Charing s Cross.” he said, with a sudden upleap ing of suspicion. i “No. guv’nor, you're right. It ain’t," i the little man said with a grin. "But this here's my garage, and I'm goln’ 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! i Clean forgot it. I have. Twig? No more - ain't I taken up any fare between here f and the Square—blest if I ’ave. Twig?” He pointed to the fare-indicator, that had indeed registered nothing, for ths , 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 "I’m afraid I don’t twig,” he said. ; "Why this hurst 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 his hand sum- . bling in his waistcoat pocket. The chauffeur, who was busy unfasten ing the strap of his number badge from his btittonhole, looked up and winked. "A hobby o’ mine, philanthropy,” h< said. “Tikes me sudden-like sometimes. I like a spasm, as yer might say. Speshully when I sees a gent o' your profession at this hour, with them nasty stlnes on ’l# cuffs and sparklers In 'ls ’and.” I Rimington glanced down with a thrill of nausea at his niff, and made an in voluntary movement to push it back. The chauffeur laughed Continued Tomorrow.