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The Georgiain’s Magazine Page “The Gates Bv Meta Strum ins, A I TODAY’S INSTALLMENT. "Your wife. Tony? Well, that's good!” The exclamatian was redolent of irony, in sn :te of the effort with which it was de livered. Barrington s hands clenched at the words, as though to keep themselves tr.-.m doing further damage to this vic tim of his violence. What do you know of my wife?" More than you do, perhaps.” The words came at long intervals, punctuated with distressing, agonizing gasps. “I ought to. considering— ’’ Levasseur's eyes closed. The word was becoming very dark. Even malice seemed hardly able to sustain his strength, 'and the victim of his revenge began to re cede far. far away. Considering—” 1 That I knew her first!" The heavy lids opened and the glazing eves looked eagerly up at the man bend ing over him "She was my wife!” "Your wife?" Barrington cried, hoarse ly. I'es. or thought she was,” came the labored answer. For a moment Anthony Barrington stared at the dying man in speechless horror This revelation was so infinitely more terrible than anything his worst suspicions had ever leaped to. He turned on the man with a bitter laugh. "You lie!” he cried. "You infernal scoundrel, you lie!” In his madness and pain, it is hard to sa' what he might have done at that moment had not some of the servants, roused by that frenzied .beating on the gong, come hurrying across the hall. With a sudden miraculous effort, Ed mond Levasseur raised himself on his el bow Edith!' he gasped, hideously. Ed—” And dropped back dead. The spirit had been willing, but the flesh too weak to carry out his vengeance to the full. Only one person in that group under stood, and that was Edith Barrington's husband. The Truth at Last. The inspector looked at Barrington coolly. 'lt's a strange ending to a strange store, sir,” he said, "if it is the ending But one never knows." "One never knows.” repeated Barring ton. mechanically. Although throughout this interview- with the detective-inspector in charge of the Fitzstephen case- -who had been sum moned hurriedly at his own .desire —he had acted like the cool, level-headed man of affairs he was. Barrington's thoughts had been far away from the library, had been, all the time upstairs with the white faced, terrified, guilty woman who, heaven help him. w-as his wife. "!t'« an extraordinary thing why he should have come here of all places in London," continued the officer. "Extraor dinart ' But then, the whole case is ex-, traordinary.” His shrewd eyes rested for a moment on the artist's face; it certainly was more ’han extraordinary that this escaped rimina! who had evaded -the vigilance of the London police for so many days, should have been run to earth in this house of all houses; the detective was not ignorant of the relationship existing be iween Mrs. Barrington's sister and the man at present under arrest for the mur der of the money lender in Tempest street. "When a man's hunted he hasn't got 'he instinct of the lower animals, he does idiotic things.” he said. Yes." repeated Barrington. ' There's not much more to be dong to night. or rather, this morning, sir, 1 don’t think I'd better keep you any longer.” The inspector paused, as if expecting comment, then, hearing none, moved to ward the door Barrington, with the in stinct of ingrained courtesy, moved with him toward it, holding it open for him to pass out, returning the man's "Good morning" with a similar greeting. Terrible Thoughts. The door closed behind the police of ficer and Barrington was alone. He went across the room and sat down by his writ ing table, resting his’head on his hand, trying to think, and the thought that filled his mind was—not the fact that he had killed a man. not so much as a fleet -hg thought to any danger he might run through his committal of an act of mad mstice. but one thought only -that Edith, his wife, was a dishonored woman! A 1 h eat. A creature whose every action for the tears as his wife had been a lie. r he thought racked him with a fierce pain He groaned at the degradation of In his ears rang an echo of the dy mg man s death rattle; before his eyes danced a vision_of his terrible mocking 'mile, and the vision seemed so awful that cnl' death could blot out the remembrance of It x gm up, inaction was not possible. B' 'elt that he could never he still again c he lived -that only one thing re mained for him—death, after he had 2, > ' l ' eri 'K p front the lying woman up- Death! He came .to a sudden a-'-e at the thought' of his child, a --•I fIMMK q. tll*lfllll£7 4MB6rTii*Mw < f JKSwmMgf **<l : WCWffi* fe£s tgf W if' 'GGr~> : - WHnF ' iwhSSl W .^' : Get the OriglnabGenulne Pure full-cream milk and the ex- | rJ\ r^HT! < tract of selected malted grain, | ’ reduced to powder form. Delicious, Invigorating | OTotffirm Nourishing | B®st Food-drink for all ages, = f \ | i w J A quick lunch digested by the weakest E \l('.,. r y stomach; prepared in a moment by = |R AVf 1 briskly stirring the powder in hot or cold # water - Keep at home or when travelin s- | Sa-"’ Ask for HORLICK'S | Are fmilßtiem | miiiimninimiiiiiuiuiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuniiiiiiiiiuiuun s of Silence” uthor of"Husher! Up' ’ thought so insupportable that a dew of pain started out ttpon his brow. His child! What future lay before it? A flood of other thoughts so black and terrible ’hat he hardly formulated them even to himself swept over hint. With a bitter cry he rushed from the room. A Physical Fear. Outside the door, however, he paused. To reach the place where his wife was he must pass the room where the thihg that had once been a man lay. Actual physical fear laid its cold hand on him. With an effort like that of a child com pelled to pass through an empty room he made a dash for the stairs and reached him wife's apartment." The sitting room door stood ajar; the bed room door was locked. He knocked loudly upon it. There was-an instant's hesitation, the faiptest whisper of voices, and it was opened to him by the housekeeper, her face wet with tears. I don t think you should come in, sir,” she said. "Mrs. Barrington is not well." Barrington looked at her with wild eyes. V as site in the plot to hoodwink him too? T can not help that," he said, roughly. The woman fell back a little, cowed by his manner, for. in spite of his popularity in his household. Anthony Barrington was a man who was feared by his servants. "The doctor said my lady was not to be excited." she continued, with a certain doggedness. ' "Am I likely to excite Mrs. Barrington?” Anthony demanded, angrily. "Go down stairs; I wish to speak privately—to your mistress." The woman went with some unwilling ness. and Barrington entered the bedroom and locked the door. He said nothing, but stood there with his • back against the door which he had locked, and looked across the room at the woman who. at the first sound of his voice, bad sprung up from the couch where she had flung herself. One look at her husband's face told her that'the end had come, that the blow had fallen at last as she bad always known it must; an*l with the knowledge all the nervous trembling, the agonizing suspense and tension, relaxed. She faced him like a woman of stone: she would not fight, deny, or lie: she placed herself in the hands of Fate and waited. FACE TO FACE. Still Barrington did not sneak, but looked at her grimly. The feeling crept in upon her that her very life depended on her returning that look-. “What have you to say for yourself?" he asked at last. "Why should not I kill you as you stand there —send you to join your lover?” His voice broke the spell which bound her. "Tony, what do you mean? Don't, stand staring at me with those hard eyes, or I shall go mad! Am I so little to you that von should condemn me. unheard?" “You have been so much to me in the past.'.'"lie cried, "that it is only- the thought of my son that keeps me power less he is my son?" "Tony!” Edith Barrington made a few unsteady steps toward him, then fell back, quelled by the contempt, the ha tred- in his face. For one supreme in stant physical fear dominated her men tal anguish, and she dreaded that she was alone with a madman. Then she told herself that on her calmness de pended her safety, and forced herself to look at hirp s’eadfaspy. “You have no right to ask me such a question," she raid with quiet dignity. “No right?” The man laughed, such a hideous travesty of mirth that it chilled her blood. "Oh. I deserve all the blame and scorn" you can cast upon me,” she cried, "for I have been a coward, but not a btPl wom an. Tony- not in intention—faithful to you and loving ah, heaven knows how loving'" "Bad!" he ejaculated, with a sneer. "What do you call a woman who per jures herself at the altar, whose every down-sitting and uprising for years was a lie?" "Tony, at any rate, whatever has hap pened. you can not forget that I am your wife you can not repudiate me. For lit tle Phil's sake" "1 am not so sure of that," Barrington said —“not so sure first that you are my wife Who were you—what were you— w-hen you married me?” He looked at her keenly, more natural ly. as it seemed, and with a little cry Edith stretched out her hands to him. "1 believed that I was a widow when I married you,” she said. "A widow?” Again he laughed, harsh ly and unmusically, and there was such brutal meaning in the repeated words iHat Edith, meeting his eyes, felt hot shame tingle swiftly from head to foot. "Yes. Edmond Levasseur's widow.” Her utterance of the name of the dead man seemed -to her inexplicably to add fuel to the fire of her husband’s anger. She did not know that in It Barrington imagined he found a confirmation of all his doubt of her. Edmond's Levasseur! That was what he said to himself, with bitterness, if this story she was telling were true this story that she poured out with a quick flood of impassioned words, finding in her anguish and her fear an unexpected eloquence--she must have known the fajseless of this assumed name, have known the real identity of th» man who called himself by it, as he knew it. Continued Tomorrow, THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN AND NEWS. FRIDAY. JULY 12. 1912 i The Philosophy of Shoes ::: By Garrett P. Serviss: It Is More Important to Have Your Feet Properly Clothed Than Your Head (These pictures are reproduced by, permission, from “Good Housekeeping Magazine" for July.) DR. WOODS HUTCHINSON de- About the last thing that a shoemaker would dream of doing is to really scribes man. in Good House- look at th " foot that he is to Bh °«- • keeping Magazine for July, as . » “the tenderfoot of the animal king- dom." and then he goes on to give ( x\. what nobody seems to have thought It \ worth while to give before —some good F scientific advice on the subject of shoes. / sF® li What he says is amusing as we l ! as / instructive. / / rA sap - ■pHL"' \\ Dr. Hutchinson makes another state- / r ? j ( ment which will probably surprise most I JMBEyjBgT **% people, although It is evidently true. I 1 . 'WJs-wfilrX viz. that m e p. and women, too. have ’he I \ biggest feet on earth in proportion to \ Us ' ?s the size and weight of the animal they \ * X N Ji carrv - The fact is that man. as a product of evolution, has not yet had time to jSjK ■jF %>■ * I develop hi- r»<'i 1 It ,, n •. N \ / / \ ■■■ 1 .. , ■/ f .d/L 1 ; <' z oto \ v a Tjt / / \ *• ' * *** * / / (7 i •A’ ' - ... i / <4 \ / // n *» * / / .... /«/ / / ** .< ‘ >• ’ j • / • I x * ***** I ts . i * \ rrSjwJ \ ''*** /■ I* & iifxnh rTCJTLiijffi <****"“, I 1 Is it any wonder that our commonest dream is that of bounding in 50-foot ourves through the air like a giant kangaroo? best possible form to serve the new uses to which he now puts them. Since he quit climbing trees and sporting among the branches in the tropical for ests of Tertiary times, and began to stand upon his hind paws, he has been more concerned with the growth of his brain than with the development of his feet. Nature would, no doubt, have helped him more rapidly if he had not defeated nearly all her efforts by incas ing his feet in hard, unyielding boxes, which, as civilization has proceeded, have become more ridiculous in their ugliness and their unsuitabili ty to the proper use of feet". The Nice Adjustments. The anatomist sees, with admiration, the nice adjustments which nature has made In transforming the hind limbs of arboreal (tree.-climbingi creatures of the ape and monkey type into the legs and feet of the upright animal called man, and. at the same time, he views with disgust the manner in which man has spoiled some of nature’s neatest ef fects. The naked, unconflned and un tormented human foot is a marvel not only of fitness for its purpose, but of beauty of form. It is even a finer piece of natural machinery than the hand, ASM 11 , 5 . Such fashionable monstrosities as tootheick tees ant' l «rJ3, -'s? the rr'mst committed in th« name of reform •uch as square toes and*straight inner edges. and ordinarily it has harder work to do. But while the hand has been left free to use and develop all its latent possibili ties, the foot has been cramped and hampered, until. In civilized man. it has become a thing which he is glad to conceal. He goes stumping along with It, without employing onm-tenth part of its real powers. The toes are jammed together, the natural points of support are more or less disregarded, and the entire wonderful mechanism is thrown out of gear. Os course, even savages have to pro tect the bottom of the foot, but their manner of doing so is, fundamentally, better than ours, for they do not rob the member of more than half Its use fulness. No spurred and booted Euro pean could ever match the grace and dignity of locomotion exhibited by an American Indian striding along in his easy-fitting moccasins The sandals of the Greeks and Romans gave at least some opportunity for the feet to per form their natural functions. In cold climates we have to cover the feet, and leather is. no doubt, all things consld eriuL 'ho very best material that ha yet been found for footgear: but thr trouble is that our ways of using it are open Io a vast number of objection’ Man. in more senses than one, is the tenderfoot of the animal kingdom. The cobbler of genius has yet to ap pear. ThoAias t'a’lyle forgot the shoes when he speculated on the philosophy of clothes. Fashion is responsible for more harm-doing in the matter of footgear I than in any other of the numberless I vaga”ies with which she delights to worry her submissive slaves. Nowhere] has fashion been so cruel and so de- I fiarft of nature’s laws as in her deal ings with the feet. Look at the name less suffering that she has for cen turies inflicted upon hundred' of mil lions of women in China. But she Is. in this respect, almost equally cruel in what we call more civilized lands. If all the groans and cries of pain that are daily wrung from men. women and children in Europe and America by the excruciating Ills that result from the wearing of tight or wiongly formed or stupidly fitted shoes could be collected and poured forth from one huge mega phone the united sound of woe would not be pleasant to listen to. When fashion prescribes absurd headgear we may lament the violence done to our aesthetic sensibilities, but there is, usually, no physical injury caused by Inartistic hats The case is different with misshapen shoes. Huge, square-toed shoes tha© look like river scows, arrow-pointed shoes that re semble in outline the bow of a college racing boat, turnip-toed shoes that ape the nose of a triceratops, and shoes with peg heels and precipitous fronts that make women sway like ballet dancers or totter like inexperienced stilt-walkers, are a source o' positive injury as well as of discomfort to the wea rets Some Expert Advice. Th« remedy would seem to be. when the shop contains nothing but ready made absurdlities, to have all shoes made to order —hut that is costly, and. 1 besides, how many would know enough to prescribe th® shape that a shoe should -have? You will find some expert advice 1 about this in Dr. Hutchinson s article, and you would do well to pav special heed when he says. “For heaven's sake, have 'em big enough!" E Stylish, But Comfortable | • Queen Quality Shoes Embody the 21 • Acme of Style Without Destroy* f ing Ease and Comfort. g ■ ■ ■ A shoemaker threw off the smother- v ing influence of routine and precedent and founded a colossal factory the Jp largest in the world devoted to the man- • ufacture of Women’s Sh'oes. To this • factory comes the hides and skins of Kids,' it p Goats, Horses. Colts and Calves. Presto! JJF J They are transformed into Queen Quality Shoes for Women at the enormous rate Jp of 15,000 pairs a day. B The modern shoemaker has a double p task—to secure grace, beauty and rhythm p outwardly and at the same time conserve ’ physical comfort and anatomical propor- J tion inwardly. K • Nothing is absolutely perfect, for the Jp millennium is yet to come, but when you 9 speak of the style, the fit and the feel of 9 shoes Queen Quality is without a peer. p No matter how much yon may be willing • to pay for shoes you can not buy any that ■ surpass them in those three details. • The summer's heat calls for white— p white shoes especially, in canvas and buckskin, for they are so easy and cool on the feet. We are especially prepared 9 to supply instantly the correct size in the p wanted style, be it Pump. Colonial or Sc p Oxford. Correct fit guaranteed. i X I J - : M. Rich & Bros. Co. | ! “A Department of Famous Shoes.” s We Close at One ©'Clock Tomorrow : Special Fo r Saturday J ! 432 Pairs White Canvas Pumps. Welt Sole, J- ■ Leather Heels ; White Canvas Pumps I £ - W\\ : ’ I : $3-50 I 11 I An unusual attraction is required to sell as much J in a half-day as would ordinarily he sold in a tvhole day. i The shoes we are offering are .nusuallv stvlish and gp* i durable, and at this special price the saving is unusually I large, so we feel sure we will not lose any sales on ac- , count of closing a half-day. I No mail orders filled at this price. : M. Rich & Bros. Co. | ! “A Department of Famous Shoes”