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THE GEO&QIAMS MAGAZINE PAGK
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“The Gates of Silence”
A STORY OF LOVE. MYSTERY AND WITH A THRILLING POR
TRAYAL OF LIFE BEHIND PRISON BARS.
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT.
• That would be very heroic, doubtless
—but why? Ob, yes, I know: to clear
two men you persist in believing Inno
cent. But one question. Miss Betty. T e
welfare of these two men—one of them
a verv great scoundrel, by the way-is It
dearer to you than the good name of your
sister Edith and all that is bound .up in
that good name?”
A Confeselon.
«7>e an effort to speak, but the
Words ravefcC Ci. into silence. Paul Saxe
took her hand and she let it lie unre
sistingly in his.
"Miss Betty—if we are to be friends
allies—if I am to help you to aid those
who are dear to you—you must be frank
wtth me. you must give me your confi
dence. I happen to know the reason that
drove you to the unconventional step of
coming to me at Tempest street that
night.”
Indignation gave Betty voice. Knowing
her need and her sister's need, this man
had refused to give the money he had
actually promlesd!
"Yes: because— forgive me —I mls-
• judged you; I did not know then what I
know now. I had no idea how imperative
your need was till I saw to what you
stooped.”
"To what I stooped?" The words forced
themselves from her white lips; there was
something so sinister under the almost
purring caress of his voice.
Saxe looked at her intently.
"Fate played you strange tricks in that
eerie old house of the hundred clocks,
Miss Betty,” he said. "It gave your se
cret into my hands. What have you done
with the ruby you stole from Fitxstephen?
Where Is the genuine Lake of Blood, Miss
Betty?”
“The Lake of Blood!” It seemed to her
that some paralysis of terror had bereft
her of all power of speech save a repeti
tion of bls words. "I know nothing of It
—nothing—nothing.”
She gave a little, half-Impatlent sigh.
“Miss Betty, Is this amaxlng partial fail
ure of your memory real or a pose? Are
you trying to bluff me? He bent forward,
looking Into her eyes. “I can't believe
that It Is, any more than I can fall to
believe the evidence of my own senses
when I saw you slip the stone you had
taken from Fltzstephen from the table In
that room where an old man lay dead
and slip It Into your bag. I can describe
the bag to you minutely—Just about so
large,” he made a movement with his
hands—“violet morocco, with your charm
ing name across Its corner in shining let
ters. Where Is that bag, Miss Betty?”
It seemed to the girl that there was al
most a challenge in the question.
The remembrance of where she had last
seen that bag—seen it empty—in Jack
Rlmfngton’s hand last night by the river,
recurred to her now, fraught with a
presage of impending evil. Had she done
this thing of which this man accused her?
Tn this new world to which she had awak
ened all things seemed possible.
"Where is that bag?” Saxe repeated.
It seemed to her that the world stood
still, waiting for her answer, as this man
wafted, his eyes fixed mercilessly in her
face.
"I—l do not know.” she said.
Still for a moment Saxe continued to
stare at her. Then he turned away
"I do,” he said.
Once again there was silence in the
room for a moment; then Saxe turned to
the girl.
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Ask your grocer for a package of Faust
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"Miss Betty, forgive me.” lie said. “Let
us have an end of this fencing; let me
be quite candid with you. I do know
where that vanity bag is: where the po
lice will find It, worse luck—in Mr. Rim
ington’s possession. But I know more—
where Rinington put the jewel that you
entrusted to his keeping.”
“That I entrusted? What do you mean?”
There was almost an appeal for mercy
In Betty’s startled tone. Saxe made a
gesture of his eloquent hands as though
he repudiated it.
“I Can Save You.’’
“In plain English, Miss Betty, I mean
that you. like the foolish, maddened girl
you were, probably hardly knowing what
you did. like many another before you,
yielded to an impulse of your necessity
and stole a beautiful jewel—a world-fa- I
mous jewel that could never impossi- !
profit you because of the sheer impossi
bility of ever getting rid of it. Rimlng
ton, to whom you gave the stone, realiz
ing the danger you ran, the uncomfort
able notoriety of the stone, was guilty of
an action almost idiotic us your theft
instead of comfortably leaving the ruby
behind him in the house in Tempest
street, he carried it off, and the next
morning. In melodramatic fashion, flung it
into the Thames.”
Saxe broke off impatiently and crossed
the room to her side.
“Do you. understand what his action
meant?” he demanded, almost peremptor
ily. “There is no need to go into tech
nical details and mouth long phrases
about the compounding of felonies, and
the like. It simply means that—the fact
of his disposal of the stone being known
—for good or ill, you and he stand to
gether. If you go to the police, as you
foolishly suggest going, you simply place
yourself under an inquisition which—not
to mention the scandal such an action
would create, the ruin it would mean to
your sister and yourself—will very speed
ily draw sufficient evidence from you to
incriminate your lover.”
"Why do you say this to me?” the girl
broke out wildly, almost as though the
words had been drawn from her in spite
of herself by the look in his strange eyes.
"Because I want you to understand this,
Miss Betty—that I can save you by a
word —that 1 can hang him by a word. I,
who know Just what happened in Tempest
street that night In those flftgjn minutes
before Rlmlngton entered the house —In
those appalling five minutes after the
lights went out in that room of death —can
strlkeor forbear to strike—at a price.”
"Yes?” The whispered word was a
question, not an affirmation. Saxe saw
that Betty’s face, white before, was ashen
now: that her lips trembled.
“You came today to ask for my help,
Betty,” he said, and there was something
in his tone that hurt her as an undesired
caress would have hurt her. “I am will
ing to give it —but you must pay for It.
Already you are in my debt, you and your
sister —more deeply than you guess. She
hasn’t spoken to you of the hush-money
she received the morning after you re
turned home? If I keep my promise—if
I save thin man who is arrested to
day as only I can save him I shall require
my quid pro quo. I do not pretend to
be a philanthropist. You’re not a child,
Betty; you must know what it is.”
He bent his face toward her. a’nd the
girl recoiled with a little cry of disgust.
Saxe gave a short laugh.
"I must want you for my wife very
badly, Betty, to withhold my hand after
the insult that your eyes have flung’at
me every moment you have been in this
room,” he said. "But I do need you—
need you so badly that I must proffer a
further argument still.”
He leaned toward her and whispered a
sentence in her ear.
Betty drew back with a sharp cry, her
white, appalled face quivering.
Once or twice her colorless lips moved,
but no sound Issued from them. Then—
“lf you complete your bargain, if you
do what you say,” she said, hoarsely, "I
will pay your price.”
Her voice broke, she bowed her head
on her hands and burst into a tempest of
tears.
The Yawning of the Gates.
As the man spoke it seemed to Riming
ton that a little petrified silence fell over
the crowd at the bustling station, ahum
at this midday hour with all the gay life
of the holiday season. Just as though It
were no scene In real life, but only a, pic
torial representation on a scale as vast
as Frith's “Derby Day,” animation
seemed suspended. The porters paused
in their labor of wheeling laden trolleys;
the women in their charming summer
finery stood about the bookstall, papers
poised in their gloved hands, or in the
act of chatting to each other, line beau
tiful girl, who had evidently just greeted
a lover, stood with the glad smile of her
welcome frozen on her piquant face.
The feeling was horrible, appalling—
such as might he experienced by a person
held prisoner by some epileptic trance.
The detective, seeing the fixed look in
his companion's eyes, repeated his state
ment in an elaborated form, his watchful
gaze ready for the slightest movement of
Rimington’s hand towards pocket or lip.
Continued Tomorrow.
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AND SHOULDERS
A Free Preecripti<»n That Instantly Re.
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The Dutch neck and the evening
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If you want to try it go to your drug
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The Making of a Pretty Girl
Her Hair, and How to Make It a Joy Forever
&
' iL g Here 8>r * somc
v valuable nilcs
’’'9t lven ®®iss
X eB" Ayer for the care
x S of the hair
’Hair that is
\ Q touched up is nev-
M \ ; A% er healthy.
Girls with
drab hair should
tScr bf verv careful to
§ w y* Keepacean
§ c/ “Shampoo the
A BMUB head once a week
~i slunmer ‘
T “ The heaith ° f
- fMMWfe T A V#the hair depends
largely on your
general health.”
\ few*’-*v> / / * - \
WBgMßLifa' v \
w i 1W
- 'I K ' <\
By MARGARET HUBBARD AYER.
((TAM so ashamed of my hair,"
| writes one of my correspond
ents. “All the family have beau
tiful hair, but I only have a few strag
gling locks of a nondescript color. Will
you please tell me what I can do to
make my hair grow and to change the
color of it ?”
Be sure, my dear girl, that I am not
going to tell you anything that will
change the color of your hair, be
cause this is the sad fate of the girl
who was just about as you must be,
with a small handful of brown hair
that went well with a pair of beautiful
brown eyes. But, alas, the brown hair
didn’t suit the young lady, so she de
cided one day that she would give it a
little life. To “liven the hair up is one
of those nice ways people have of say
ing that they are not dyeing their hair.
So my little brown girl applied some
henna to her hair and went and sat out
in the sun until ft dried.
Henna is a red paste made of pow
dered henna leaves and water, and is
guaranteed to turn the hair reddish,
then red, then redder and finally pur
ple, and other gay and festive colors.
That is the unfortunate part about
livening up the color of your hair. You
never know quite where you are going
to end.
My little brown girl was as pleased
as Punch to see the reddish glint in her
brown hair, and many of us were fool
ish enough not to realize that she had
touched ft up; so we said: “How nice
your hair looks!"
Delighted with the result, she went
and applied more henna, and sat out in
the sun again. 1
A Prismatic Effect.
I emphasized the fact she sat in
the sun. because that quickened the
process. Soon her hair was a brilliant
red, and as she struggled to lighten up
the dark roots and ends of the hair
somewhere near the same color, she
•was tempted to try a quicker method
and to use peroxide.
Well, in a very short, while she went
through aH the colors of the rainbow,
ending up with distinctly purple locks
streaked with a slightly greenish tinge.
Now, the little brown girl was very
clever, and when she saw what she had
done she frankly said: “I have made a
fool of myself; I dyed my hair. I will
never do it again.”
Os course, every one knew she had
ADVICE TO THE LOVELORN * *
IT IS POSSIBLE.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
If a young lady really and truly loves I
a young man will she be jealous of him
and accuse him of going to see other
girls, when she has never seen him with
any? Will she also believe rumors
about him going with other when
she hears them? W. C. M.
Jealousy always attends on love. (
Some claim that where jealousy does
not exist there is no love. It doesn’t
indicate perfect faith, but that most
desired of all sentiments is also one of
the rarest. The girl undoubtedly loves
you, but her love is of such an exact
ing, auspicious nature that a future
with her as your wife is not at all
promising At least yoji know what
quality you will find in control when
she is your wife. Perhaps, looking al
dyed her hair, but I have met only two
• women in my whole life who admitted
they did; so I think she deserves praise.
After months of work, the hair eventu
ally was restored to its original color.
The restoration might have been helped
with more dyes, but the hair was in
bad condition, anyhow, and it was
eventually decided to cut off the great
er part of It and wait patiently unTH It
grew out its natural brown color.
During the hair dyeing process my
'i. ’i
’x
I li iCJcflnv -
\ \ MM/ //
\ \ dr 9 SS/
A woman’s glory—her hair.
little girl had been a source of real
humiliation to her family and her hair
had been an eyesore to all who looked
at her, because she had the clear, olive
complexion that went with her own
color of hair, and, of course, once the
scarlet locks appeared she had to paint
and powder in order to overcome this
ghastly looking comnlexion.
The minute you do anything to your
hair to change the color of It you have
to aid your complexion, which was in
tended to go with the original color.
That is why the girl with dyed hair
never looks quite respectable.
Hair that is touched up is never
healthy, and the bleached or henna
tresses become very dry and brittle,
lose their natural wave and the gloss,
which is the chief attraction of healthy
hair.
Don’t Touch It.
If my correspondent wants better
and healthier hair she must discard
the idea of touching it up. There Is
only one thing In the world to lighten
►up hair naturally, and that is sunlight
and fresh air. Go about just as much
as you can with your hair loosened
and flowing after you have washed
your hair, be sure and dry it in the sun
and never wash your hair on a cloudy
day, as the difference in color will be
perceptible.
Girls with drab hair should be very
careful about keeping It clean, and all
the drab shades should be washed
much oftener than the deeper colors. If
you arc subjected to much dust during
the course of the day in your home
work or in business, shampoo the head
once a week in summer time, and about
once in two weeks In winter time. A
good shampoo is made of small pieces
of toilet soap that are left from the
big cake and that are so hard to use
her aide of the question, you have
shaken her faith in you by some fool
ish act. How about that?
MOST CERTAINLY NOT.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am seventeen and liave neen keep
ing company with a young lady of six
teen, who seems to think a great deal
of me, and I return her affections. Our
people, however, seem to think we are
too young to marry, but as we are
deeply in love with each other my
sweetheart has proposed eloping. Do
you think a young married couple could
live happilv on $7.50 a week'.’
A TROUBLED LOVER.
This is not the day of miracles. You
ean not live, happily <>r otherwise, on
$7.50 a week these days. If you had
more money I would still urge against
marriage because of your youth.
i up. Keep them in a little box or bag
until you have a good quantity, then
boil them up in about four times the
quantity of water, add a little borax or
soda. When the soap and water cools
It will form a jelly, and this can be
i kept in preserving jars almost indefl
i nitely for use in the weekly shampoo.
Where the hair is very heavy, braid
it In two braids before shampooing.
Rub the soap very thoroughly in the
scalp, and rinse in a great many
waters. The rinsing is almost more
important than the lathering. The girl
with weak hair should try to get some
one to give her a good scalp massage
at least once a week, and twice a week
if possible. Os course, the health of
the hair depends very largely on the
general state of health. If your sys
tem Is not in order, If your stomach
Is upset, your liver sluggish, or.you
are overworked, worrying and anxious,
the hair will reflect these conditions
almost Immediately. It will lose color
and vitality first and will flatten out
and mat together. Then it will begin
to fall out and all the tonics in the
world won’t be of any use until the
circulation In the scalp is restored to
Its normal condition.
Massage Good.
A good masseuse will manipulate the
scalp, moving the skin of the scalp, but
not rubbing the hair. The Angers must
be pressed deep into the flesh, and the
scalp must be made to move beneath
them. The pores of the scalp become
clogged, Just as do the pores of the
face and back, and these pores must
be emptied before the natural secre
tions can nourish the hair again. One
can do a great deal for one’s self In
the way of scalp massage, but It Is
really better. If possible, to spend a
little extra money and have this done
by a thoroughly competent person.
Now that we are In the midst of the
bathing season, I want to warn all you
girls against the promiscuous use of
brush and combs In dressing rooms.
Sclap diseases of all kinds are trans
mitted in this way. I know that the
dainty and fastidious glr! only takes
such a comb thoughtlessly and because
she doesn’t know what else to use. The
same warning applies to combs in any
public place, and it can not be insisted
on too strongly.
GIV 7 HIM A CHANCE.
Dear Mir Fairfax:
I am eighteen and have been keep
ing company with a young man about
a year. He is engaged In work that
makes It impossible for him to see me
in the evening. However, he has ar
ranged several times to sec me in the
afternoon and has disappointed me,
without even sending a postal card
telling the reason. Do you think he is
worth consideration? M. R. W.
If business detained him, his failure
to keep his engagements Is not to his
discredit. So many young men think
more of social engagements than duty
to business life that it is really to his
credit. Give him a chance to explain
and so long as It Is not some other
girl don't be too exacting
* Hunting a Husband *
NO. 13— MAYNARD’S MAGNETISM AND KINDNESS FORCE THE WIDOW .
TO FORGIVE HIM IN SPITE OF HER VOWS .•£,
AT the maid’s announcement of
her unexpected guest, Beatrice
set down her cup and flashed a
startled glance at Helen. Mrs. Robbins
was a trifle disconcerted and flushed,
but Beatrice thought that an expres
sion of triumphant self-r.ighteousness
flickered around her lips as she raised
her brows in answer to the appeal in
the widow’s eyes.
It is hard for anj’ of us to bear dis
comfiture In the presence of an unsym
pathetic witness. Beatrice felt in her
heart that Robert’s champion was se
cretly enjoying the embarrassing cli
max to the recent discussion, and a
sudden wave of anger swept away the
guilty terror she had felt when Rob
ert's name was mentioned by the maid.
The knowledge that Helen would revel
In her confusion steeled her determi
nation and cleared her brain. It was
with a calm voice and manner that she
said to the waiting servant, “Show Mr.
Maynard in!”
Even Helen, with her prejudices, was
forced to admit to. herself that Beat
rice’s manner was that of the perfect
hostess as she rose to greet her guest.
"A very pleasant surprise!” she ex
claimed cordially when Maynard en
tered the drawing room. “Helen and I
were just .talking of you when you were
announced."
•’Yes?" queried the man. jestingly, as
he turned to greet his fellow guest.
’’Speak of the devil and you’re sure to
see him. eh? While I, out In the hall,
was thinking of angels and heard their
voices."
"You will have some tea, of course?”
suggested Beatrice, touching the tiny
Chinese gong on the little table at her
side,
"None if you please,” the man an
swered. "My lunch was late today, and
what little appetite this first hot weath
er left me was taken away by that re
past.”
The maid entered, and at a word
from her mistress removed the tea tray
and table, while the trio, settling them
selves in their chairs, chatted lightly of
Impersonal things until the sinking sun
warned Helen that it was time for her
to leave. Yet, incredible as it may
seem to one who is not an Impression
able woman. In that quarter of an hour
Robert Maynard’s manner had done
much to cool Beatrice’s Indignation
against him.
He possessed to a great degree that
wholly indefinite something which we
call magnetism. Weeks ago Beatrice
had heard Helen say that one could be
angry at Robert Maynard, but never
angry with him. She remembered that
now as she found herself laughing
spontaneously at his clever nonsense
which was combined with a natural
gayety that was almost childlike. He
rose to his feet as Helen got up to
leave, and announced. In spite of her
protests, his Intention of accompanying
her as far as her car. But before he
left murmured to Beatrice, "I'm
coming back—may I?" And she smiled
her assent.
She waited until the rumble of the
elevator signalled their descent, and
then hurried Into her room, where she
quickly exchanged her easy and rather
homely house slippers for a. dainty pair
of satin pumps, and slipped upon her
wrist a bangle which Robert had ad
mired the day of their drive together.
If the recollection of this incident
brought the disagreeable ending of the
excursion more clearly to her mind, she
quickly consigned the unsavory mem
ory to obscurity.
He was merely a friend, she Insisted
to herself, scarcely more than a pleas
ant acquaintance, despite Helen's
match-making ideas, and if he was
calling on her In that capacity. It was
her duty as a hostess to make his visit
as pleasant and agreeable as she could.
If, when she looked Into the glass, she
saw that her cheeks were more flushed
and her eyes brighter than the advent
of a chance caller would justify, she
felt only a thrill of satisfaction at her
appearance and did not attempt to
analyze her excitement.
Maynard returned sooner than she
had expected and she had scarcely
time to seat herself and open a book
as If she had been reading ever since
his departure before the portieres
parted and he again entered the room.
"I was a long time getting back, I
know," he said ruefully. "But it really
wasn’t my fault. Those Infernal street
cars never come when one Is in a
hurry.”
"But you weren't gone long.” an
swered Beatrice. "I call that a very
short time Indeed."
“Perhaps." he admitted as he drew
up a chair. "But I was living In an
ticipation, you see. and you were not.”
"What an arbitrary way you have
of declaring what one's thoughts have
been,” laughed the widow. “Are you
always certain of every person’s feel
ings?”
"No," he responded slowly and with
out a smile. "I am only sure of my
own."
His tone held a significance which
his words did not warrant, and Bea
trice flushed under his steady gaze.
"Even at that you are a very for
tunate person.” she forced herself to
say lightly.
“I hope to be,” he answered enig
matically.
There was a brief silence which the
man was the first to break.
“Mrs. Minor/’ he said abruptly, as
“Mrs. Minor.” he said abruptly, as
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’ 1
By VIRGINIA T. VAN DE WATER.
though spurred by a sudden resolution,
"I hope you did not wholly believe
whatever it. was that Mrs. Robbins was
saying to you this afternoon about
me."
"What Helen was saying?” queried
Beatrice, puzzled.
“She is a good woman,” went on
Maynard, “but she has queer, strict
ideas which lead her at times to say
'Tnore than she means or has a right
to say. I heard her mention my name
when I came in today, and, although
I did not intend to listen, I also heard
her say something relative to hard
drinking. I know her well, and. in
spite of her New England conscience,
1 am fond of her. Yet I ask you to
Judge by facts hereafter rather than
by her statements.”
“But how," asked Beatrice, faintly,
“did you know that it was Helen who
was speaking?”
“I noted who looked embarrasseed
when I came in,” said Maynard, smil
ing.
Confession hovered on Beatrice’s
lips, but was checked by the memory,
of Helen Robbins’s superior I-told-you
so smile when Maynard was an-J
nounced,
"I honestly did not catch exactly
what she said,” Maynard admitted, “b«t
please don’t believe it too entirely. I
scarcely think you did, anyway."
"No," responded Beatrice, verbally
truthful. "I didn’t”
“I value your good opinion,” Robert
said, gently, “more than I dare hope
you appreciate.
But at this juncture the maid; burst
into the room, holding Beatrice’s small
son by the arm,
"Please, ma’am!” she gasped, “Mas
ter Jack has cut his hand something
dreadful! What shall I do?”
The sight of the pale little boy and
the crimson blood turned Beatrice
faint. It was Maynard who grasped
the child and wrapped around the gash
the cloth the bewildered servant held
out to him; it was he who telephoned
for the doctor and calmed the fright
ened mother and the sobbing child.
When the physician had arrived and ’
order had been restored Maynard tact
fully took his departure, reminding
Beatrice of his desire to be of service
at any time she or the lad might need
a man’s help.
An hour later a long box came to
the widow. She opened it and gasped
at the pale glory of the orchids that
tilled It. On top of them lay a card.
“Can I come day after tomorrow
night to finish our talk?" ran the
message, ‘‘Best wishes for the boy’s
comfort. R, M.”
SAVED FROM ,
AN OPERATION"
p
How Mrs. Reed of Peoria, 111 J
Escaped The Sur- *
geon’s Knife. •
•
Peoria, 111. —“I wish to let every c •
know whatLydiaE.Pinkham’sVegeta' •
I - ' -".-l iiifctfu. --I Compound has du ♦-
A forme. Fortwoyears
■ ; ; I suffered. The'doc-
- WrW /' tor said I had a tumor
:: the only remedy
was th o surgeon’s
knife. My mother
bought me Lydia H.
Pinkham’s Vegete-
/w/m ble Compound, and
J today Ijun a well and
EMk W> > JR healthy woman. For
MmMlwi L. SB months I suffered
from Inflammation, and your Sanative
Wash relieved me. I am glad to tell
anyone what your medicines have dona
for me. You can use my testimonial in
any way you wish, and I will be glad
to answer letters. Mrs. CHRISTINA
Reed, 105 Mound St., Peoria, 111.
Mrs. Lynch Also Avoided
Operation.
Jessup, Pa. —“After the birth of my
fourth child, I had severe organic inflam
mation. I would have such terrible pains
that it did not seem as though I could
stand it This kept up for three long
months, until two doctors decided that
an operation was needed.
' * Then one of my friends recommended
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com- .
pound and after taking it for two months ’
I was a well woman. ’’ Mrs. Joseph A. !
Lynch, Jessup, Pa.
Women who suffer from female ills
should try Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegeta
ble Compound, one of the most success
ful remedies the world has ever known,
before submitting to a surgical opera
tion.
