Newspaper Page Text
HEXiEOiaCMAN’S MAGAZINE, PAGE
“The Gates of Silence’'
TORY OF LOVE. MYSTERY AND HATE. WITH A THRILLING POR
TRAYAL OF LIFE BEHIND PRISON BARS.
TODAY'S IXSTALLMENT.
“Then you can clear yourself?” There
' as a passionate eagerness in Mrs. Bar
rington's voice.
Levasseur smiled at her evilly. Un
consciously she found herself contrasting
r>im with her husband. Had she ever,
Indeed, passionately admired this man
Tvith the clear cut. sensual features, that
brutal heaviness in the set of lips and
jaw?
“No. I can not clear myself. I was in
the house the night of the murder. The
police have actual proof.” His smile
deepened. “Figure to yourself, my dear
Edlth—a murder was committed, a gem
was stolen and the English police arrest
a man with proof positive in his pocket.
A Lake of 8100d —delicious and Kidd
stolen, and in the arrest-
* possession was found a Lake of
te most exquisitely perfect replica
Warranted to fetch quite ten
at any second-hand dealer’s in
pe.”
“False? Do you mean that the stone
fou»“d upon you was «n imitation?"
‘Ti.e most admirable counterfeit. Isn’t
>i delicious? Edith, the whole scheme
was a masterpiece no one had ever
planned such a coup not a Gaboriau or a
Ihi Boisgobey in their most inspired
flight! And that it should all be in vain!
*he paltry spite us it! All brought to
naught by some bungling brute of a mur
derer who knifed the old ruffian out of
sheer silly revenge or some such paltry
motive."
Edith sat like a woman turned to
stone.
"But I don't understand." she said,
stupidly enough. "It seems to me that
you must be able to dear yourself by a
word."
“You were always singularly lacking
in intelligence," he said brutally. I can
pot clear myself by a word, nor by ten
thousand words. ! know that. Only one
thing can clear me." He leaned across
the table, his sneering face very near her
own. "You can help me. Will you -or
am 1. like another Samson, to bring down
the ruins of the house in iny fall?”
"What do you mean?" she whispered.
To her Intense horror and shame, she
began to shiver violently. "How can I
help you?. If it is impossible for you tn
clear yourself, how can 1 help you?”
He flung himself back impatientb in |
his chair. “Eb bien. but you are dull'"
he cried.
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I 111
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“I admit it. What is that you wish me
to do?”
"Something perfectly easy. Find the
real murderer.”
1 She looked at him with fascinated ter
rified eyes, and in that moment he looked
such a thine of evil that at once all
doubts she had had of his guilt were dis
sipated.
She leaned toward him suddenly. “You
are the man.” she said.
A Forced Silence.
Levasseur laughed, not a whit taken
aback.
"Excellently dramatic, but a trifle
archaic, my dear Mrs. Barrington. No, I
am not the man—nor. unfortunately, can
I tell you ills name, it ail sounds so mad.
But. candidly. I should consider anybody
a fool who believed it. It's a fact, nev
ertheless—l know tlte man who did the
murder, but I can not speak. The fact
is, tltat since—for a certain number of
months —I have thrown in mv lot with a
gang of—what you weuld ’ thieves —
most excellent, light-hearted craftsmen,
geniuses in their way—when, from one
thing and another, Paris became a trifle
tropical we decided to try London. In
London here, the brother of our chief
carries on a very magnificent " He
broke off abruptly and laughed, with a
very evident sense of enjoyment. "But I
may not tell tales. Not. dear Edith, from
any mistaken idea of honor, but merely
because the exigencies of the rule demand
It. To 'split on a pal' and save myself
would be merely to escape the hangman's
noose to fall by the edict of our society,
so I am tongue-tied. Oh, *1 recognize it
sounds incredible. That is why 1 have to
call upon you, my Friend "
For a moment Mrs. Barrington won
dered if the man were mad. But there
was .a ring of sincerity in his voice, a
certain suggestion of fear and despair in
his bold eyes that drove the thought from
iter. Nothing was impossible in this
world—that was the experience life had
taught her. Another woman might have
been less ready to believe the man's as
tounding story, but she knew Paris —the
seamy side of it through Anthony Bar
rington's eyes.
"I can not help you." she said, with
an almost childish fatuity. “If you can
not tell the name of tlte murderer, how
van 1 discover him - .’ 11 is so like you to
iet me to make ropes of sand, to fling
me into a pit with sheer, polished walls
and bid me climb out of It.”
"Edith, if you help me. I give you my
word I shall never molest you again.’'
A Threat.
''Oh. don'h mock me.” She stood up.
The interview had lasted too long already;
evyry moment she dreaded lest some one
would come. She had all a woman's Ig
norant terror of the dealings of the law.
l.evasseuy stood up beside her and
i aught her fiercely by the arms, staring
into her face with angry, compelling
eyes.
“You would leave me to die like a rat
in a trap?” he hissed. “You think that I
will be dead —that the world will forget—
that I shall be afraid to speak! Ah, you
do not know me—or you have forgotten.
The world will hear much, very much, I
will make your name a thing of infamy
throughout the length and breadth of
England. The man you call your husband
will not dare to raise his head. Your
child will be branded.”
She shuddered in his grip and he re
leased her. so that site staggered back
wards.
"You must do your worst.”’ she said,
"for I can do nothing "
"You can bring th light man to jus
tice.” he repeated. “You have money and
influence set me free and you are free
also." He cast art ugly word in her teeth.
"Woman, don't you see that but for you f
wouldn’t be here? If you had sent me
'lie money you promised I would not
have been in Tempest street that
night."
Edith Barringion turned on him. her
eyes alight with the fierce courage of a
creature brought to bay.
"I was as helpless then as I am now.
she cried. "I had no money. I have no
money now. I have no means of find
ing the murderer —"
lie Interrupted her with a singular
catch in his throat.
“No?" he murmured, very distinctly.
"Perhaps not. But what of your sister
Betty what of her, eh?”
The Veil Is Lifted.
Jack Itimington read his aunts s let
ter through for the second time then,
folding it witli mechanical neatness,
laid it on tlte table beside his plate. Mrs.
Ames, the landlady, bringing in the
breakfast tray at that moment was star
tled into words at the sight of his face.
"My! you do look fagged out. sir.” she
said, with the unction that drops from
I the lips of women of a certain type at the
very thought of Illness or misfortune.
"No bad noos. I hope?"
"No unexpectedly bad news," Ritning
ton said. "My uncle, who is always
something of an invalid, Is somewhat
worse."
"And you'll be going down to see the
old gentleman. I should suppose?" the
old body hastened to say. "And a good
thing, too. It's fairl ybeat me why a
young gentleman like you should keep
himself mewed and moped up in London
at this time of the year.”
To Be Continued Tomorrow
WT
••THE HAIRS OF YOUR HEAD
ARE NUMBERED”
There i« a great deal of truth in the
old saying.
Roots die, vitality gives out. The hair
begins to turn grey.
This is particularly unfortunate as we are
all living in an age when to LOOK young
means to fill the YOUNG and IMPORTANT
positions. Old fogies go to the background.
If you should begin to chalk down every
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that turn grey, you would be surprised and
soon learn that “The Grey Hairs of Pre
mature Old Age” come on very quickly,
if you neglect them.
Begin to count, and Use
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THE TELESCOPE PARASOL—SOME THING NEW, PRETTY AND USEFUL
By OLIVETTE.
WHEN will tlie stout woman coins
into her own again?
Everything is made for lhe
thin woman. Skirts, which were to
have been wider, so fashion authorities
in Patis informed us, are becoming
even more contracted, all new articles
of furniture are designed for the slight
persons, and he’-e comes an umbreila
that will make the stout woman look
positively grotesque by comparison, for
ft is the last word in attenuated struc
ture. It is the telescope umbrella.
An ingenious device allows it to be
pulled out into a long, tightly rolled
walking stick or pushed back into one
of tlte Etnptess Eugen'.e umbrellas of
white silk lined in rose color.
A Smart Adjunct.
It is another of those fanciful acces
sories which make the up-to-date
woman look smart while helping to
raise ths average cost of living.
If you can't afford this passing freak
in the way of sun shades, go to the
nearest Japanese-store and bttv a payer
a)
umbrella. Then you will be following
in the fashionable footsteps of society
women in Newport, who affect these
sunshades with plain white frocks for
morning and with the all-prevailing
white serge suit in the afternoon. Only
please remember that the paper parasol
is sufficiently variegated in color and
needs a white or dull-toned frock to set
it off. If it's carried with some of our
vivid colored frocks it looks too much
like a conflagration.
No costume seems quite complete
nowadays without the tiny , corsage
bouquet of flowers; clever imitations
rather than the real thing. The old
fashioned bouquet has a paper frill and
Is made of odd little blossoms that
ought to grow in old-’time gardens.
This novelty has brought forward a
great number of clever women who,
with deft fingers, muslins and paints,
make these tiny bunches of flowers,
which sell at prices more substantial
than one would think.
This is the best season to think about
next autumn's wardrobe, at} It is the
great time of bargains.
White materials are going for a
Advice to the
Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
LOOKS LIKE A PEACEFUL DISSO
LUTION.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
1 am 20 and met a young man last
May and I loved him; but my love I’
fading away because be has bad habits
and likes dancing very’ much. 1 do not
like to go to dances with him. When I
do not go with him he does not call
on jne. M. G.
You say that your love is fading
away? Then why do you object when
he doesn’t call on you? It seems to tne
your troubles ate reaching a painless
dissolution.
I would not call dancing a bad habit
unless it is indulged in to excess But
If he has bad habits more serious that’s
a different story.
Let the affair terminate, which it
seems about to do.
IT CERTAINLY SHOULD.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am eighteen and for the past six
months have been going out with a
young man three years my senior. Re
cently 1 have heard of his past, which
is not very much to his credit. Ought
this make any difference with me, as I
love him, but my patents object?
L. M. 8,
Usually, I urge that no heed be paid
to gossip, unless that goaslp is well
founded, But the opposition of your
parents to the young man indicates
there must be some foundation to the
stories you have heard against him. Let
their wishes control you; that is always
the safest, and particularly so in this
instance.
TELL HER SO.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am eighteen and in love with a girl
of the same age. I was introduced to
another girl and the former girl is uii
der the impression that I love the latter
girl. Kindly advise me what to do to
clear up thia matter, aa I dearly love
the former girl. H. H. B.
Tell her so. If she doubts you, prove
your love. You can do this by being
devoted to her and ignoring the other
girl.
A Literary Refusal.
"Yes, when 1 proposed to that liter
ary girl she used one of those editorial
forms. Said a rejection did not nec
essarily Imply s lack of merit.' etc"
"You seem hopeful." '
"No wonder The form concluded by
saying: 'Ami although compelled to
reject tour present efforts, would L
Dieased to hear from you again.' ”
■ n
WHO
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Furs go right along up in prices
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now’s the time to buy.
A Bargain.
The other day 1 saw a .summer bar
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The belt fastens in tlte back and the
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A new fichu is made of three rows
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A large bouquet of viblets in natural
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Daysey May me and Her Folks
By FRANCES L. GARSIDE.
A
I.THOUGH Daysey Mayme Apple,
ton does not know her A B C’a
better than she knows The
Wrongs of Her Sex. she tan not truth
fully say tliat she hates all tlte men.
She finds that in the last, ten years
she has loved fully fifty of that de
tested sex, and that because of disap
pointment in gaining their love she
has sighed regularly for the cold thumb.
Because of this perpetual softening
of a heart that Justice to Iter sex de
mands should be adamantine, she has
been accused of being lukewarm in
demanding the ballot.
"It is not so bad to be a woman."
she said in Itet defense.
"If a woman will go about it right
she can get what she wants from the
men without throwing rocks at them.
“There's my father. Lysander John
Appleton. Kin Commissioner General
of the United States! He eats what
we set out for him. He puts on the
clothes we buy and lay out for him.
"He leads the magazines we choose
to take. He may make decisions in ills
capacity as Kin Commissioner General
that startle the world with their dar
ing, but nty mother and I promptly
overrule him in kin decisions at homq,
"He votes the way we decide. In his
untamed (which is tlte unmarried)
state he liad convictions of his own.
He lias none now of which we disap
prove.
“He roars because of the freak styles
in women's millinery and dress, and
pays the bilks lor whatever clothes we
choose to buy.
"He del ides the fashion of false hair,
and in his capacity us Kin Commis
sioner General has decided that rights
of hospitality may be denied a woman
kin who wears any, yet I [irtde my-
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self I wear more jute than any woman
I know, and he pays the bills.
"The women give lectures at which
men are roasted, and my father buys
tickets to hear himself abused.
"When away from home lie gives
elephantine roars against the practise
of using face paint and powddr. but
these elephantine roars become as-faktt
as mouse squeals when he sits oppo
site tlte faces of his wife and daughter
at home
“He writes articles and gives lec
tures on the pernicious effects of wear- .
ing a corset, illustrated with pictures
of feminine forms wasting away like ”
an bout -glass, and here Daysey Maytfic ■’
began to giggle.* "All men approve.",
she went on —then tee-hee-hee, another.
giggle, "and some day, this is all they .
will get for their protest:
"In the centuries to come, when this
country lias long been buried, and it is ~
forgotten that, we ever existed, some
new race will spring up, and"—her gig
gle became a scream at the .possibility...
of it —"archaeologists will dig into thy ..
ground for relics of the race of today,.. .
just a< archaeologists, these days .dig
for traces of people of a former exist ?
enee. Anil they will dig into ash piles."
here her mirth almost overcame, hey.
"anti how will they explain the corset.,,
they find there? . .. ....
“They will decide, after looking it- •
over solemnly and wisely." she said,
witli a conviction savoring of the
sweetness of revepge. “that it is An
Article of Wearing Apparel of Prehis
toric MAN!
"And that is a|l the men will "ever
get out of this fight they are making
on tlte corset! Oh. it is not so bad to
be a woman!"
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