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4 ’T ITT f*' A* I O LQUFT T I ? A Story of Love, Mystery and Hate, with a By META SIMMINSI £ J Ilz V 1I A ) \ZI kDll 41 JAly j1 j ®a» Thrilling Portrayal of Life Behind Prison Bars Author of “Hushed Up” READ THIS FIRST:— JACK RIMINGTON, the man with the secret. Rimington is loved hy BETTY LUMSDEN, the daughter of SIR GEORGE LUMSDEN, who, however, would like Betty to tnsrrj PAUL SAXE. The latter, while outwardly her friend, is scheming to separate her front Jack. An opportunity arises when Betty is implored hy her sis ter, MRS. BARRINGTON, to help her raise SIO,OOO to silence the blackmailing demands of EDMOND LEVASSEUR, whom she thought was dead, and who had forced her into a trick marriage some years previously. Realizing that her husband, ANTHONY BARRINGTON, is a man who would never forgive her for conceal ing this affair. Mrs. Barrington, who has no .other means of getting the monev to silence Levasseur. suggests that Betty should ask Saxe to lend her the amount. Betty reluctantly agrees, and goes to Saxe’s rooms for the monev. Itlmington is lured there, also, with a view to compromising Bettv in his eves. and he arrives in time to discover her standing over the body of a dead man with a dagger in her hand Betty vanishes 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 at the Croft in a distressed and exhausted condition without the money Nevertheless, the SIO,OOO reaches Mrs. Barrington by post the following morning Who has sent this "Hush Money." as it is described in the letter? And what terrible mystery Is Hetty Involved In? These are the questions Mrs. Barrington asks herself. Barrington surprises his wife and father in-law by suddenly returning from Paris He Is [ticking up the morning newspaper from the floor to road to them an extraordinary item of news that he had noticed while coming in <>n the train. The item is about the murder, and states that Levasseur has been ar rested for the crime. "The Lake of Blood." a wonderful ruby belonging to Fitzstephen, was found on him In the meantime Rimington leaves the cab that he took after leaving the house of death, and the cab driver calls attention tn red stains on his cuffs. —Now Go On With the Story "Bless yer. I don't care Yer may be a bloomin' anti-vaccinationist fur all I know It ain’t no business o' mine wot yer are or w'y. Only I jolly well knows . _ , T .-.-'J--------- ' ' * ' 1 ' ' The Dingbat family Even a Pumpkin May Be Missed « Copyright 1912, National News Association By Herriman ’/is Them Tracis "ujh at 1” __ ■ -- /Tr those. caovdsA L. AtoftAfetF 6 us COURSE. YouX (THAT PtWKiAJ WillT— uVZ - _ \ Ct^ ft ‘*'T /AV v -> '-OAft’s ’Z~ Z r UJH.LI*SM iBfL ■? j aiz ever. met\ ansujee THE- Purpose—\ Z /y ~ _.Z~"Uz _ rxj. A Goa/er.-] zlzZ .- . 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Top) COM' Ju&t To A 7 i (wußfty up) Z F~ r— —— fcMtEISnN \OF The JUMWO / GET Aftoua 1 \ (the SottoZ W A*E ’ - VtheTop-J Vv _-Z XisistX Wh- ~f, ) fr?rAATLY) t J ' , x X " _Z-"%T ; XX (top OF THE X, -OWiM R£M4 ' JEO 7 ' /is X fPoT\ */ 1 YcTumgfrau kpaivV \ Xr -- =- A u'v A A* PAPIbLvA ■ V -z< zUhW? ■■ n S&Z SL - i A -A Sherlocko the Monk The Adventure of the Cow That Posed ggj Copyright, 1912, National News Ass’n By Gus Mager MX COW 1 — Srouew I *-et us cose L she was I TT usr u ' an oe-reo7 AH WATSO, Poes not this ) 7 Come, we ujill hunt up [ A H MR. NERvo, an autistic OUT op THE FIELD I WO nM£| Com e j PED TO all 1 ■ ' Dropped by the ( IME MOST c, iCTUR.ESQ.ue I’S>Pot You've chosen to poge jj/ WHFtt I Ulh UEO z WATSO '. z~ -> i THIS STAKE . \ 7‘ —___ . r(j L p P(r SUCr-FC-r A oiue ‘ POT NEAR. HERE FOR. \ TOUR. BORROtNeD CCW IN.p* WHERE I MAD WES. < L 7 TIJ T TUT.WATSo- I 7/ ' GE£>T ACL J k . there uie sh'ai i ) Ano here's one Os tour. TfCD TOO must . s I 'T She uwion't ! ou • U o l -> c IKI p. n \ pftiNr brushes 1 founo. HELP me FUHDHEr’ / \ i <VANT TO wanner <-- t Oi X P , M,SSIN Z mat i trouble you to < _2_J / ) ' tROM T c <- X CcXA1 1 r — g °^ ? X y / . ; luxurious / z— -Shucks l . Howl ; /I'll soon be through with L. / \ GfcAitN & ASTHIS- \ /CAN JHERE Prce lft | 7 ZJ \N ) [ ANO THEN THE FARMER.SX / COW WAS ) (rp amy \ y \ < COMe amo (Set her' r— Ci Xj . <A 7T? -Ca V 7 . Y (’ IA \lor A THM-d ,'Z ’ Zfi JH-ST -Mr A I 't(l A/'Y I fa»......„f _ Jr B W-'-Y ’ IMBIt* >X\ '--- - if ll W hM ’ ff - IssSt-. 77 11 ;r,i,, ! ; l , i .Hn.i l Vi; l 77”: vw Yes, It Might Have Been Much Worse :: :: - .. .. By YE. Powers 7— J -?yS !d IJ h < ?“’ T wtT Kt / yXZ ' A I X) BoDYToztSK ME Ld-vT/ z 1. ■-z77 - .M) yy jKy i/kxx < countyj d? cxiWi WISA] p (f iJ/j ' A rs'y 1 ' 5- f H Y S'tf f 1 W /z7 :—> < \ tS y VQ) ■ Z-- S < lIwJL IP* OOHT / 0 f Y'll /x\ K <fr W /wWW 4W® tx /4V J its A ( (if / ? 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So, though I’m pleased to 'ave obliged a gent”—he passed, and slung off his coat, glancing at Rimington with eyes whose twinkling cheerfulness had never altered throughout his astound ing speech “it’s best to he on the safe sid.p. Good-night ter yer. sir. Tike the first turning ter the left and yer'll find yer way right enough.” He jerked the carefully folded coat from his left to his right arm. ignoring the coin Rimington deftly proffered, and was gone before he had realized his in tention, vanished between the gates that le<i Into the deserted yard. The Brand of Cain. For a second Rimington stared after him. then turning rapidly, walked in the direction he had indicated. And as he went a question beat itself out in his brain, fitting itself to the ring of his feet on the flags, like an echo: Was there already upon him the brand of Gain? Else why should this man, who knew nothing, take him for the murderer he was not ? The street, long, w’ith disconcerting twists and turns in it, running between tall, close-eyed houses, grim and forbid ding looking in the flickering light of the street lamps, led Rimington surprisingly I to a stop at a block of buildings whose • dimly lighted windows told of occupa tion, that presently he recognized as the ’ hark of (’haring Cross hospital s He had hls bearings now. In a few minutes he was Inserting his latchkey Into the lock of the house in Chandos > street, where he lodged indescribably I thankful to find that for some reason the I house was not locked up, nor the front i door on the chain as usual. It was no t small mercy to be enabled to escape the • shrewdish curiosity of his ever inquisitive > landlady. He occupied two rooms on the first I floor. In the sitting rooiji the gas, turned low. showed him the uninviting, shadowy ■ outlines of the cold supper that had been > spread for him. His first movement on i turning up the gas was to unlock the tantalus on the sideboard and pour him self out a stiff peg of whisky. He drank the spirits, sprawled out at . full length in the lounge chair Into which , he had flung himself. He felt on the , verge of collapse, faint a®d spent, like a ( man who. by some superhuman effort. . has managed to crawl to bare safety ’ after hours of battle with a treacherous j sea. , For the moment he seemed almost In . capable of any consecutive train of thought. The varied events of the night . flitted phantom-like through his mind in i detached incidents like the fragmentary happenings of some horrible and evil . dream. The unexpected reception of , Saxe's letter which had sent him to that . strange old house, where the brooding si lence was yet vibrant with the voices of ■ Time that awful momentary vision the doorway of that upper room had framed —Betty Lumsden’s face with the youth and laughter blotted out by that look of frozen horror. "Heavens!” He started up suddenly in his chair, and the xvords were an inspira tion rather than an exclamation. "If it were only a dream!” He put his hands to his face with a sudden movement. Horrible Thought*. "Betty!" He cried her name aloud in the bitterness of his soul. It wasn’t pos sible to doubt her; whatever she had done, whatever madness had come upon her. not for a moment could he believe thdf her soul was less white, less exquisitely innocent than it had been when —was it only yesterday, or a century ago?—he had kissed her on the lips in that quiet hackwater on the Thames, where the lilies started up wide-eyed at the glimpses of sky between the slow-moving trees. It was monstrous, inconceivable, the thought that Betty should be mixed up with anything so hideous and sordid— that Betty’s white robes of Innocence should be trailed through the dust of publicity, her name made a butt for newspaper gossip. There must be some way out. And then, chill on the hot tumult of his thoughts, there came the realization that already Fate had stage-managed the affair, so that a scapegoat had been pro vided Himself. It was he who stood be tween Betty and publicity. It was his face that these upleaplng lights had shown to the besieging police, not Bet- ty's. It was he for whom Saxe had so carefully laid and skillfully baited the trap—he who was caught fast in the vlse llke teeth of circumstantial evidence. Rimington's hand tightened closely on the evil, lovely gem in his pocket, press ing it till the facets ate into the flesh. Heavens, what a trip! Even to this thing that he had found and captured— for Betty's sake! Sitting there motionless, he seemed to see the whole scroll of his fate unrolled before him. It would be perfectly easy to trace him—Saxe would have seen to that; and then there was abundant evid ence of motive, if that were needed. His lips contracted in a smile that had no ac quaintance with mirth No one who knew him had any doubt as to his real feelings regarding the dead man; he had voiced them often enough. He had never made any secret of his contempt and hatred, not only for Fitzstephen himself, but for the whole tribe of which he was a repre sentative —of his intention of repaying with interest his debt of hatred to the man who had ruined his brother. It had not been of physical force that he thought when he spoke to Betty; his punishment was to have been directed at Fitzsteph en’s one vulnerable spot—his dull greed of money. But now—Rimington laughed aloud sud denly, and the sound fell, incredibly harsh and forlorn, upon the silence of the room. All the boyish bombast of his club talk would be dragged up against him. It was only a week since that he had spoken in the smoking room to Lethbridge and Bondrax of how his finders itched to horsewhip the man. Lethbridge and Bondrax—the most notorious collectors and retailers of gossip in the club! He could imagine with what avidity they would drag up these details against him. Until that moment the ugly, mad events of the night had driven the thoughts of his projected journey to Westport from his mind—the thought of that secret which had loomed so large and glorious on the horizon of his fortune had vanished from his recollection. They recurred to him now on the heels of that thought of how he had boasted to Betty of his power to punish Fitzstephen, all gray and tinged with the gloom that filled his mind. Sup pose he had failed—suppose, with all its fair promise, the Japanese government withdrew and refused to ratify their tacit offer? The Black Lookout. The world grew suddenly dark and without hope. Perhaps it was all a de lusion; perhaps he would wake to find this discovery of his and the reward it promised only a goldep dream, and Betty as far off and unattainable as ever. And it came to Jack Rimington as he sat there that he would be glad if it were sure he could but wake and find this night's happenings a dream also, and the ugly spider of Tempest street alert and alive, spinning his webs wherewith to catch the souls of'men. Continued Tomorrow.