Newspaper Page Text
THE GEOBGIAMS MAGAZIHE PAGE
initials Only By Anna Katherine Green
A Thrilling Mystery Story of Modern Times
(Copyright, 1911, Street & Smith.)
(Copyright, 1911. by Dodd, Mead & Co.)
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT
■•tVhv do you say that?"
■Would he have washed his hands in
snow if he had been in ignorance of
t he recurrence? He was the real, If not
the active, cause of her death and he
Lew It. Either he— Excuse me, Dr.
Heath and Mr. Qryce,. it is not for me
to obtrude my opinion.”
-Have you settled it beyond dispute
that Brotherson is really the man who
wftS seen doing this?”
■X'o sir- I have not had a minute
for that job, but I'm ready for the busi
ness any time you see fit to spare mq.”
"Let It be tomorrow, or. if you can
n*nage It. tonight. We want the man
«en if he is not the hero of that ro
mantic episode. He wrote these letters,
and" he must explain the last one. His
initials, as you see. are not ordinary ones,
and you will find them at the bottom of
all these sheets. He was brave enough
or arrogant enough to sign the question-
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able one with bls full name. This mav
speak well for him, or it mav not. It
is for you to decide that. Where will
you look for him, Sweetwater? No one
here. Knows his address."
~L Ot Chailoner's maid?"
“No; the name is a new one to her. But
she made it very evident that she was
not surprised to hear that her mistress
her S "J S .t° ret corres P°n<lenee with a mem
ber Os the male sex. Much can be hid
den from servants, but not that ”
n T- the man; 1 llave a '’onble rea
son for doing that now He shall not es
cape me.
Dr. Heath expressed his satisfaction,
and gave some orders. Meanwhile Mr
Gryce had not uttered a word.
strange Doings For George.
I hat evening George sat so long over
the newspapers that in spite of my ab
s>r ng interest in the topic engrossing
me, I fell asleep in my cozy little rocking
chair. I was awakened by what seemed
like a kiss falling very softly „ n mv fore
head, though, to be sure, it may have
been only the flap of George's coat sleeve
as lie stooped over me,
“Wake up, little woman," I heard, "and
rot away to bed. I'm going out and
may not be in till daybreak."
"You! going out: at 10 o'clock at night
tired as you are—es we both are' What
has happened—Ob!”
This broken exclamation escaped me as
. I perceived In the dim background hv the
sitting room door, the figure of a man
| Who called up recent, but very thrillin"
; experiences.
I Mr - Sweetwater,” explained George
'We are going out together. It is nec •«-
sary, or you may be sure I should not
leave you.'
I was quite wide awake enough by row
to understand. "Oh, I know. You are
going to hunt up the man How I wish
But George did not wait for me to ex
press my wishes. He gave me a I'ttle
good advice as to 1:.,« I had better . qiloy
my time in his absence, and was ~ff before
1 could find words to answer.
This ends all I have to say about mv
self; but the events of that night care
fully relati d to me by Georg, are impor
tant enough for me to describe them, with
ah the detail which is their rightful due
I shall tell the story as I have already
been led to do in other portions of this
narrative, as though 1 were present and
shared the adventure.
As soon as the two were in the street,
the detective turned toward George and
said:
Mr. Anderson, I have a great deal to
ask of you The business before us is
not a simple one, and I fear that I shall
have to subject you to .more inconven
ience than is customary in matters like
this Air. Brotherson has vanished; that
is, In his own proper person, but 1 have
an idea that I am on the track of one
who will lead us very directly to him if
we manage the affair carefully. What I
want of you, of course, is mere identifica
tion. You saw the face of the man who
washed his hands in the snow, and would
know it again, you say. Do you think
you could be quite sure of yourself, if
tlie man were differently dressed and dif
ferently occupied?”
‘ I think si. There’s his height and a
certain strong look in his face. I ca n not
describe it."
)on don t need to. Come! we re all
i . giil. )ou don t mind making a night
of it
“Not if it is necessary."
"That we can't tell yet." And with a
characteristic shrug and smile, the de
tective led the way to a taxicab which
stood in waiting at the corner.
A quarter of an hour of rather fast rid
ing brought them into a tangle of streets
on the east side. As George noticed the
swarming sidewalks and listened to the
noises incident to an over-populated
quarter, he could not forbear, despite the
injunction he had received, to express his
surprise at the direction of their search.
"Surely," said he, "the gentleman I
have described can have no friends here."
Then, bethinking himself, he added:
But if he has reasons to fear the law.
naturally he would seek to lose himself
in a place as different as possible from
his usual haunts.”
") es, that would be some men’s way,"
was the curt, almost indifferent, answer
he received. Sweetwater was looking this
way and that from the window beside
him, and now, leaning out gave some di
rections to the driver which altered their
course.
When they stopped, which was in a few
minutes, he said to George:
"We shall have to walk now for a block
or two. I'm anxious to attract no atten
tion. nor is it desirable for you to do so.
If you can manage to net as if you were
accustomed to the place and just leave
all the talkjng to me. we ought to get
along first-rate. Don't be astonished at
anything you see. and trust me for the
rest; that’s all."
They alighted, and he dismissed the
taxicab. Some clock in the neighborhood
struck the hour of ten.
“Good! we shall be in time.” muttered
the detective, and led the way down the
street and round a corner or so, till thev
came to a block darker than ilie rest, anil
much less noisy.
To Be Continued in Next Issue
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The Ten Ages of Beauty * \o. 2—The seeker
4
&W w® f
I ’
W/ 1 . r' <7 ./'A
Bv .MARGARET HUBBARD
AYER.
x v THAT is your favorite type of
VV feminine beauty?
Do you recognize ii in this
fair creature disguised in medieval
trappings, looking longingly into the
crystal ball in the hands of the sage and
seeking so ardently for a glimpse of the
future?
It is a familiar type, that of the
seeker—it’s one that tie see everywhere
about.
The Seeker is sbe who knows that
the future holds something vastly won
derful. marvelously beautiful, surpass
ing all expectations, something for her
alone.
What the search of the Holy Grail
was to the Knights of King Arthur is
this seeking and longing, this quest of
the I'nknown for the girl Seeker.
She is usually a frail looking girl,
slightly built; her thereal body seems
more of the next world than this. Her
face is pale, delicate, illumined with
the spiritual glow, as if a steady flame
of high desire and longing, which
lights her on her search, glowed be
neath the satiny skin and shone in the
luminous eyes.
The eyes of the Seeker are large,
and full of mystery. At another bend
in life’s road she knows she will find
the foot of her rainbow, the meaning of
everything which has puzzled her. and
her dream comes true.
And that bend in the road may come
at any moment, so she’s always ready,
a wise virgin with her lamp well
trimmed and- her eyes wide open, al
ways seeking.
Anything But Practical.
Sometimes I am afraid she is any
thing but practical. The common needs
of life and human nature’s daily food
she ignores as much as possible. They
are beneath her, for she is full of sym-
ADVICE TO THE LOVELORN * * By Beatrice Fairfax
GLORY IN HER KIND.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am desperately in love with
a young girl whom I meet very
often. She seems to like me, but as
she has never given me much en
couragement 1 do not know what
to do. ANXIOUS.
Do you expect her to fall into your
hands like a peach from a tree?
Os course she has never given you
much encouragement. She places too
high a value on herself to throw her
self at your head. She must be won.
and I hope she will let you do all the
work that winning a nice girl involves.
GO TO HER AUNT.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am eighteen and in love with
a girl one year my senior, whom
I met about three months ago, and
It was a f-ise of love at first sight.
This girl has no parents and lives
with her aunt. Some one told her
-1 )
/ What food so delectable as a dish ert 1
/ Faust Spaghetti ? Its savory aroma \
/ tempts appetite and helps digestion. I
I It feeds the body well. 1
I AT YOUR GROCER S \
/I In sealed packages Sc and 10c \
CJ MAULL BROS., St. Uui., Mo A
this picture by Miss Nell Brinkley is reproduced by permis
sion from "Good Housekeeping” magazine for September, where
it appears in connection with an article by Octave Uzanne enti
tled “The Story of Furs and Muffs.’’
pathy and tenderness once her attention
has been called to things more humble
than her high, exalted thoughts.
But she longs and seeks eternally for
the great and higher things, and some
times her path leads her through all
kinds of tangles.
There was Erymlntrude. a Seeker,,
who looked much like this girl in the
picture. She was frail and beautiful,
with ash blond hair and great big vio
let eyes, that looked as if they always
saw a wonderful spiritual vision.
She was always longing and search
ing for something more, something
higher, finer, greater and more splen
did than what life had given her.
Not material things, for she cared
not for gold or riches, or beautiful
clothes, or worldly success. She thought
she had a mission, but was not sure
what it was.
But she it as a girl in an ordinary
family and. eventually, she married an
ordinary man, and, in course of time,
they had a nice, fat baby, that would
have been ordinary, except tliat every
baby is extraordinary in himself.
Still Erymintrude went on seeking
the unobtainable. Her household af
fairs got badly mixed, and the food on
tne table was pretty poor, but Ery
mintrude was above such things, for it
took very little to nourish her and her
aunt about our love and lots of
things about me that were un
pleasant. Now her aunt does not
want her to speak to me. The girl
does not believe a word that was
said about me and still loves me.
G. M. R F.
Go to her aunt and ask her frankly
what she has against you. Frankness
is the best weapon to fight suspicion
and slander If your behavior is above
reproach, and the girl remains true to
you, you will come out victorious; of
that rest assured.
But it rests with yourself to be wor
thy of such love and such faith.
LOOKS LIKE LOVE GROWN COLD.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
1 am sixteen years of age and
am going with a young man, nine
teen years of age, for about eight
months. When I first went with
him, he cared for me very much,
adoring husband was the sort that
will stand for anything from the woman
he loves, and he loved Erymlntrude—
everybody did.
When she bent her gaze earthward,
she was capable of the most complete
and unselfish devotion, but, mostly, she
looked up into the sky. searching for
the rainbow with a pot of fairy gold
buried at its foot.
An Ordinary Thing.
Then an ordinary thing happened.
The fat baby contracted an ordinary
and very bad disease, and the ordinary
doctor said that he wouldn't have had
to have that sickness if he had ordi
nary care. And the ordinary husband
was distracted.
Then the longing, searching look van
ished forever from Erymintrude’s eyes.
It was as if she had suddenly and
unexpectedly come to that bend in the
road that she’d always been looking
'”r, and had found the rainbow and
B -
' Al
v® ■
t w
Itca A
z; a
'J.--..-
the pot of gold being trampled under
her feet.
"It's here; it's right here, and I’ve
been looking for IT all the time!” she
cried.
Then she set to work with all the
force and power of her nature to re
capture what she had almost lost. With
heroic self-sacrifice that compelled
even the doctor’s admiration, she wres
tled for the baby’s life and then set
about to reorganize her household, and
to find In every detail of the work the
beautiful and spiritual significance that
she’d been looking for In dreams and
visions.
The ordinary baby, fat once more,
probably realizes that he has the finest
type of mother, now that the Seeker
has come down to earth. And perhaps
he wonders why she calls him "Pot of
Gold" whin she hugs and cuddles him
at night. It must seem a silly name to
a sensible, pudgy little baby with a
good appetite and no imagination. As
for the husband, he knows that his
wife is the one perfect type of beauti
ful womanhood, the Seeker who has
found her quest. And she is making a
successful man of him. for she has
turned those vague spiritual powers of
hers to practical everyday use, and is
the inspiration, the guide, and the
source of his happiness and content
ment.
but he does not seem to be the
same to me now. I meet him three
times a week, but when he comes
he always wants me to go to a
girl friend's bouse, and If I do not'
go to her house he gets very angry
and goes home.
Do you think he cares more for
the girl than me? If so. let me
know, as I have a couple of young
men who would like to keep com
pany with me. F. B.
He is evidently growing tired of .you,
and you must call your pride to your
assistance and let him see that you
don’t care.
Encourage him to call on the other
girl, and he will lose the desire to
call. Also invite these other friends
to call on you. and when he sees them
with you. he will care still less for
the other girl. That is characteristic
of his sex.
THEY DON’T TRUST YOU,
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am twenty years old and love a
sweet girl of eighteen, whom I have
known for about a year.
Her parents like and trust me,
but insist that either her mother,
sister or grandmother must be in
the same room with us when I call
in the evening. Os course, we
would much rather enjoy each
other's company alone, and 1 would
appreciate it if you will advise us
If you think it improper for young
people to be left alone tn the parlor.
FRANK C.
If they trusted you they would not
object, to you and your sweetheart be
ing alone in the parlor.
Their unusually strict chaperonage is
In the girl's Interest, and Instead of
criticising it, 1 regret that guardians of
young girls so often swing to the other
extreme, and are too lax.
lie patiejit. and show yourself a man
ly and honorable young man. and I am
sure they will In time giant you the
privilege you atk.
Daysey May me and Her Folks
By Trances L. Garside
WHEN LYSANDER JOHN IS SICK.
WHEN Lysander John Appleton
has a pimple he thinks it is a
boil. When he is a little sick he
thinks his condition is dangerous. When
he is really sick he is satisfied he is
dying.
Lysander John is a man, which ex
plains It.
"There will be no money for a marble
monument.” he said the other evening,
when he felt rheumatic pains in his
knee, "and as I desire a monument of
some kind, I ask my dear bereaved ones
—here he looked around for signs of
weeping, but detected none.
“I ask my dear bereaved ones to go
to the attic and bring therefrom all
the roller skates, the bicycles, the golf
sticks and bags, the kodaks, the sleds,
the croquet sets, the lawn swings and
other discarded forms of amusement 1
have bought for my children. These I
wish piled on my grave. They will
Zj . * Lx.i
- atty
XL/ DRUDGE
'WI jr
/> -fy Drodsfe’s Advice to Mrs. Careworn.
Mrs. I'Aiaywork- “Jack and I went to the tneatre last
night. It was fine.”
Mrs. Careworn “And I suppose your wash got a lick
and a promise. Any woman who does her work right
is too tired to go out Monday night.”
Anty Drudge— “No, she didn’t let her work go! I’ll tell
you what she did. She used Fels-Naptha soap which
does the work in half the time and doesn’t give you
a backache in doing it. ”
Here are two ways of washing.
Choose for yourself:
The Old Way. Get up at 5 o’clock.
Make hot fire, fill the washboiler and get it
boiling. Wet your white clothes, soap
them and put them into the boiler. When
they're boiled good and tender, rub them
hard on the washboard, meanwhile putting
others in to boil. Keep the fire good and
hot. It will fill the house with nauseous
steam but that’s necessary in this kind of
washing. When noon comes, if the smell
of boiling clothes hasn’t taken your appe
tite, snatch’a bite of cold lunch. When
you have the clothes boiled and rubbed
sufficiently, wring them out, go from the
steaming hot room into the cool air out
side and hang them on the line. You’ll
likely catch cold, but it must be done.
The New Way. Get up at 7 o’clock
summer and winter. Wet all your clothes,
soap well with Fels-Naptha and let them
soak in cool or lukewarm water for
30 minutes. Then mb lightly, rinse well
and hang out to dry. That’s all. And your
clothes will be cleaner, whiter and purer
than you could get them in any other way.
The whole washing takes only a few hours.
W hich way sounds best to you?
In using Fels-Naptha, follow simple
directions printed on the red and green
wrapper.
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make a monument as high as any in
the cemetery.”
Then, in pleased anticipation of the
tribute this would prove to his parental
generosity, he called for another hot
water bag.
"I know I should make an effort to
get better," he sighed. "I realize it is
my duty. But it Costs So Much to
live!”
Then he gave a sigh of relief, but
didn’t Pass On.
On another occasion when he was
really very sick and his relatives were
gathered about his bed, he began pick
ing at the bed covers.
“I see a light," he murmured.
"It's the pearly gates, said his wife,
her tears beginning to flow over the
prospect of an ideal deathbed.
"Oh. bother," he said in considerable
anger, for one so ill, "It’s the light in
Widow Smith’s kitchen, that I see every
morning. I'm not a fool if 1 am dy
ing!”
But the show of anger was good for
him. Eor he speedily got well.