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THE r ‘!J O NCE upon a time. tome people In India made* a new Heaven and a new Earth out of broken teacups, a missing brooch or two. and a hairbrush. These were hidden under bushes, or stuffed Into holes in the hillside, and an entire Civil Service of subordinate Gods used I to And or mend them again; aad every one said; •There are more things In Heaven and Earth than are dreamed of lb our philosophy.'* Several other things happened also, but the Religion never seemed to get much beyond Its first mani festations, though It added an airline postal dak, aivi orchestral effects in order to keep abreast of the times, and stall off competition. This Religion was too elastic for ordinary us«. It stretched itself and embraced pieces of every thing that medlclne-men of all ages have manu factured. It approved of and stole from Free masonry. looted the Hatter-day Kosicrualans of half their pet words; took any fragments of Egyptian philosophy that It found in the Ency clopaedia BritannJea; annexed as many of the Vedas as had been translated into French or English, and talked of all the rest; built ih the German versions of what is left of the Zend Avesta; encouraged White, Gray and „Bluck Magic, Including spiritualism, palmistry, for tune-telling by cards, hot chestnuts, double- kernelled r.nts and tallow droppings; would have adopted Voodoo and oboe had It known any thing about them, and showed Itself. In every way, one of the most accommodating arrange ments that had ever been Invented since the birth of the Sea. When It was In thorough working order, with all the machinery down to the subscriptions complete, Dana Da came from nowhere, with nothing In his hands, and wrote a chapter In its history which has hitherto been unpublished. He said that his first name was Dana, and his second was I)a Now, setting aside Dana of th* New York Suji. Dana Is a Bhll name, ami Da fits no native of India unless you accept the Bengali De as the original spelling Da Is Hap or Fin nish ; and Dana Da was neither Finn. Chin. BhU. Bengali. Lap. Nalr, Gond. Romaney. Magh. Bokharlot. Kurd. Armenian. Levantine. Jew. Per sian. Punjabi. Madrasi, Parsee. nor anything else known to ethnologists. He was simply Dana Da and declined to give further informa tion. For the sake of brevity and as roughly Indicating his origin, he was called The Native." He might have been the original Old Man of the Mountains, who is said to be tbs only authorised bead of the Teacup Creed Home people said that ho was; but Dana Da used to smile end deny any connection with the cult; explaining that ha was an "Independent Experimenter. 1 ' As 1 have said, he oame from nowhere, with his hands behind his back, and studied the Creed for three weeks, sitting at the feet of those best competent to explain Its mysteries. Then he laughed aloud and went away, but the laugh might have been either of devotion or derision. When he returned he was without money, but his pride was unabated. He declared that he knew more about the Things in Heaven and Earth than those who taught him. and for this contumacy was abandoned altogether. His next appearance In public life wai at a bl* cantonrner.t in Upper India, and* be was then tell ing fortunes with the help of three leaden dice, a very dirty old cloth, and a little tin box or opium pills. Ho told better fortunes when he was allowed half a bottle of whiskey; but the thing- which he invented on the opium were quite worth the money. He was In reduced cir cumstances. Among other people's he told the fortune of an Englishman who had once been In terested In the Simla Creed, but who, later on. had married and forgotten all his old knowledge in the study of babies and Exchange. The Eng lishman allowed Dana Dk to tell a fortune for charity's sake, and gave him live rupees, a din ner. and some old clothes When he had eaten. Dana Da professed gratitude, and asked if there were anything he could do for his host—In the esoteric line ’is there any one that you love?" said Dana Da. The Englishman loved his wife. but nad no de- rlre to drag her name into the conversation. He therefore shook his head. Is there any one that you hate?" said Dana Da The Englishman sah\ that there were s«v- e: hi men whom he hated deeply. "Very good." said Dana l>a. upon whom the Ji'NDAY AMEIMCAN. ATLANTA. OA.. SUNDAY. MAY whiskey and the opium were beginning to tell. "Only give me their names, and 1 will dispatch a Settling to them and kill them." Now a Sending Is a horrible arrangement, first Invented, tiie.\ ay, in Iceland. Jt is a Tiling sent by a wizard, and may lake any form, but, most generally, wanders about the land in the shape of a little purple cloud till it finds the Sendee, ami him It kills bv changing into the form of a horse, or a cat, or a man without a face, it is not strictly a native patent, though chamars can. If Irritated, dispatch a Sending which sits on the breast of their enemy by night and nearly kills him. Very few natives urc to irritate chamars for this reason. "Let me dispatch a Sending," said Dana Da; "I am r.e.irly dead now with want, and drink, and opium; but I should like to kill a man befora i die. J can send a Sending anywhere you choose, and in any form except in the shape of a man." The Englishman had no friends that he wished to kill, but partly to soothe Dana Da, whose eyes were rolling, an/1 partly to see what would be done, he asked whether a modified Sending could not he arranged for—such a Sending as should make a man’s life a burden to him, and yet do him no harm. If this were possible, he notified his willingness to give Dana Da ten rupees for the Job. "I am not what I once was." said Dana Da, "and I must take the money beenuse I am poor. To what Englishman shall I send It?” "Send a Sending to Hono Sahib," said the Eng lishman. naming a man who had been most bitter In rebukin.g him for his apostasy from the Teacup Creed. Dana Da laughed and nodded. "I could have chosen no better man myself," said he. "I will see that he finds the Sending about Ills path and about h!s bed." He lay down on the hoarth-rug. turned up the whites of his eyes, shivered all over snd be gan to snort. This was Magic, or Opium, or the Sending, or all three. When, he opened his eyes he vowed that the Sending had started upon the warpath, and was at that moment flying up to the town where the Hone Sahib lives. "Give me my ten rupees," an Id Dana Da. wear ily, "and write a letter to Hone Sahib, telling him, and all who believe with him, that you and a friend are using a power greater than theirs. They will see that yon are speaking the truth " He departed unsteadily, with the promise of some more rupees if anything camo of the Send ing. The Englishman sent a letter to Hone Sahib, couched In what he remembered of the termi nology of the Creed. He wrote: "I also. In the days of what you held to bo my backsliding, have obtained Enlightenment, and with Enlight enment has come Rower." Then he grew so deeply mysterious that the recipient of the letter could make neither head nor tail of It. and was proportionately Impressed; for he fancied that his friend had become a "fifth-rounder." When a man is a "fifth-rounder’ he can do more than Slade and Houdin combined. Hone Sahib read the letter in five different fashions, and was beginning a sixth interpreta tion when his bearer dashed In with the news that there was a cat In the bed Now if there was one thing that Lone Sahib hated more than another, It was a cat. He rated the bearer for not turning it out of the house. The bearer said that he was afraid. All the doors of the bed room had been shut throughout the morning, and no real cat could possibly have entered the room. Ho would prefer not to meddle with the creature. Lone Sahib entered the room gingerly, and there, on the pillow of his bed, sprawled and whimpered a wee w’hite kitten, not a Jumpsome, frisky little beast, but a slug-like crawler with Us eves barely opened and its paws lacking strength or direction—a kitten that ought to h«*ve oeen In a hasket with Its mamma. Lone Snhlb caught it by the scruff of its neck. handed It over to the sweeper to be drowned, and fined the bearer four annas. That evening, as he was reading In his room, he fancied that he saw something moving about on the hearth-rug. outside the circle of light from his reading lamp. When the thing began to myowl, he realized that It was a kitten.—a wee w'hite kitten, nearly blind and very miser able. He was seriously angry, and spoke bit terly to his bearer, who said that there was no kitten In the room when he brought In the 80 KJ faj —!l-=- “He was seriously angry and spoke bi tterly to his bearer, who said that there was no kitten in the room when he brought in the lamp.” lamp, and real kittens of tender age generally had mother-cats In attendance. "If the Presence will go out Into the veranda and listen," said the bearer, "he will hear no cats. How. then Iorp. can the kitten on the bed and the kitten on the hearth rug be real kittens?” Lone Sahib went out to llsten.^and the bearer followed him, but there was no sound of Rachel mowing; for her children. He returned to his room, having hurled the kitten down the hill-, side, and wrote out the Incidents of the day for the benefit of his co-religionists. Those people were so absolutely free from superstition that they ascribed anything a little out of the common to Agencies. As it was their business to know all about the Agencies, they were on terms of almost Indecent familiarity with Mani festations of every kind. Their letters dropped from the celling—unstamped—and Spirits used to squatter up and down their staircases all night. But they had never come Into contact with kittens. Lone Sahib wrote out the facts, noting the hour and the minute, as every Psych ical Observer is bound to do, and appending the Englishman's letter because It was the moat mysterious document and might have had a bearing upon anything in this world or the next An outsider would have translated all the tangle thus: "Look out! You laughed at me once, and now T am going to make you sit up.” Lone Sahib's co-religlonists found that mean ing In It; but their translation was refined and full of four-syllable words. They held a sede runt and were filled with tremulous Joy, for in spite of their familiarity with all the other worlds and cycles, they had a very human awe of things sen.t from Ghostland. They met in Lone Sahib's room in shrouded and sepulchral gloom, and their conclave was broken up by a clinking among the photo frames on the mantel piece. A wee white kitten, nearly blind, was looping and writhing itself between, the clock and the candlestfrks. They stopped all investi gations or doubtlngs. Here was the Manifesta tion In the flesh. It was. so far as could bo seen, devoid of purpose, but it was a Manifesta tion of undoubted authenticity. They drafted a Round Robin to the English man. the backslider of old days, adjuring him in the interests of the Creed to explain whether there was any connection between the embodi ment of some Egyptian God or other (I have forgotten the name) and his communication. They called the kitten Ra, or Toth, or Shem, or Noah, or something; and when Lone .Sahib con fessed that the first one had, at his most mis guided instance, been drowned by the sweeper, they said consolingly that in his next life ne would be a "bounder." and not eVen a "rounder” of the lowest grade. These words may not be quite correct, but they express the sense of the house accurately. When the Englishman received the Round Robin—It came by post-—he was startled and bewildered. He sent Into the bazar for Dana Da, who read the letter and laugheji. "That s my Sending," said he. "I told you 1 would work well. Now give me another ten rupees." "But what in the world is this gibberish about Egyptian Gods?" asked the Englishman. ".Cats!" said Dana Da with a hiccough, for he had discovered the Englishman’s whiskey bottle. "Cats, and cats, and cats! Never was such a Sending. A hur/1 red of cats. Now give me ten more rupees and write as i dictate." Dana Da’s letter was a curiosity. It bore the Englishman's signature and hinted at cats—at a Sending of Cats. The mere words on paper were creepy and uncanny to behold. "What have you done, though?” said the Eng lishman.; "I am ;ts much in the dark as ever. Do you mean to say that you can actually send this absurd Sending you talk about?" y "Judge for yourself," said Dana Da. “What does that letter mean? In a little time they will all be at my feet and yours, and I, O Glory, will be drugged or drunk all day long." Dana Da knew his people. When a man who hates cats wakes up in the morning and finds a little squirming kitten on his breast, or puts his hand into his ulster pocket and rinds a little half-dead kitten where his gloves should be, or opens hts trunk and finds a vile kitten among his dress shirts, or goes for a long ride with his mackintosh strapped on his saddle-bow and shakes a little squalling kitten from Its folds when, he opens It, or goes out to dinner and rinds a little blind ? Uteri under his chair, or stays at home and finds a writhing kitten under the quilt or wriggling among his boots, or hanging, head downward, in his tobacco jar, or being mangled by his terrier In the veran da when such a man finds one kitter. neither more nor less, once a day In a place where no kitten rightly could or should be, he is naturally upset. When he dare not murder his dally trove because he believes It to be a Manifesta tion, an Emissary, an. Embodiment, and half a dozen other things all out of the regular course of nature, he is more than upset. He is actually distressed. Some of Lone Sahib’s co-rellgionists thought that he was a highly favored individual; but many said that if he had treated the first kitten with proper respect—as suited a Toth- Ra-Tum-Sennacherib Embodiment — all this .trouble would have been averted. They com pared him to the Ancient Mariner, but r.one the less they were proud of him and proud of the Englishman who had sent the Manifestation. They did not call it a Sending because Icelandic magic was not In their programme. After sixteen kittens, that Is to say after one fortnight. for* there were three kittens on the first day to impress the fact of the Sending, tno whole camp was uplifted by a letter—It came flying through a window—from the Old Man of the Mountains—the Head of all the Creed—ex plaining the Manifestation in the most beautiful language and soaking up all the credit of It for himself. The Englishman, said the letter, was not there at all. lie was a backslider without Power or Asceticism, who couldr.’t even raise a. table by force of volition, much less project an army of kittens through space. The entire ar rangement, said the letter, was strictly ortho dox, worked and sanctioned by the highest Au thorities within the pale of the Creed. There was great joy at this, for some of the weaker brethren, seeing that an outsider who had been working on independent lines could create kit tens. whereas their own'rulers had never gone beyond crockery—and broken at that—were showing a desire to break line on their own trail. In fact, there was the promise of a schism. A second Round Robin, was drafted to the Eng lishman, beginning, "O Scoffer,’’ and ending with a selection of curses from the Rites of Mizraim and Memphis and the Commination of Jugana, who was a "fifth-rounder," upon whose name an. upstart "third-rounder” once traded. A papal excommunication Is a billet-doux compared to the Commination of Jugana. The Englishman had been proved under the hand and seal of the Old Man of tho Mountains to have appropriated Virtue and preTended to have Power which, in reality, belonged on.lv to the Supreme Head. Naturally the Round Robin did not spare him. He handed the letter to Dana Da to translate into decent English. The effect on Dana Da was curious. At first he was furiously angry and then he laughed for five minutes. "I had thought," he said, "that they would .have come to me. In another week I would have shown that I sent the Sending, and they would have discrowned the Old Man of the Mountains, who has sent this Sending of mine. Do you do nothing? The time has come for me to act. Write as 1 dictate and I will put them to shame. But give me ten more ruprsr.” At Dana Da’s dictation the Englishman wrote nothing less than, a formal challenge to the Old Man of the Mountains. It wound up: "And If this Manifestation bo from your hand, then let it go forward; but if it be from my hand, I will that the Sending shall cease in two days’ time. On that day', there shall be twelve kittens and ther.eeforward none at all. The people shall Judge between us." This was signed by Dana Da. who added pentacles and pentagrams, and a crux ansata, and half a dozen swastikas, and a Tralple Tau to his name, just to show that he was all he laid claim to be. The challenge was read out to the gentlemen and ladies, and they remembered then that Dana Da had laughed at them some years ago. It was officially announced that the Old Man of the Mountains would tr' * the matter with con tempt. Dana Da being an Independent Investiga tor without a single "round" at the back of him. But this did not soothe his people. They wanted to see a fight. They were very human for all their spirituality. Lone Sahib, who was really being worn out with kittens, submitted meekly to his fate. He felt that he was being "kittened to prove the power of Dana Da," as the poet sa ys. When the stated day dawned the shower of kittens began. Some were white and some were tabby, and all were about the same loathsome age. Three were on his hearthrug, three in fils bathroom, and the other six turned up at Inter vals among the visitors ’who came to see the prophecy break down. Never was a more satis factory Sending. On the next day there were no kittens, and the next day and all the other days were kittenless and quiet. The people mur mured and looked to the Old Man of the Moun tains for an explanation. A letter, written on a palm leaf, dropped from the celling, but every one except Lone Sahib felt that letters were not what the occasion demanded. There should have been cats, there should have been cats— full-grown ones. The letter proved conclusively that there had been a hitch In the Psychic Cur rent which, colliding with a Dual Identity, had Interfered wHth the Percipient Activity all along the main line. The kittens were still going on, but owing to some failure in the Developing Fluid they were not materialized. The air was thick with letters for a few days afterward. Unseen hands played Gluck and Beethoven on finger-bowls and clock shades; but all men felt that Psychic Life was a mockery without Ma terialized Kittens. Even, Lone Sahib shouted with the majority on this head. Dana Da’s let ters were very insulting, and If he had then offered to lead a new departure there is no knowing what might not have happened. But Dana Da was dying of whiskey and opium In the Englishman’s godowr. and had small heart for new creeds. "They have been put to shame," said he. “Never was such a Sending. It has killed me.” "Nonsense,” said the Englishman; "you are going to die, Dana Da. and that sort of stuff must be left behind. I’ll admit that you have made some queer things come about. Tell me honestly, now, how was it done?" "Give me ten. more rupee..,” said Dana Da faintly, "and if I die before I spend them, bury them with me." The silver was counted out while Dana Da was fighting with Death. His hand closed upon the money and he smiled a grim smile. "Bend low," he whispered. The Englishman bent. "Bunn la—Mission school—expelled—box-wal lah (peddler)—Ceylon pearl merchant—all m 1 n.e English education—outcasted, and made up name Dana Da — England with American thought-reading man and—and—you gave me ten rupees several times—I gave the Sahib’s bearer two-eight a month for cats—little, little cats. I wrote and he put them about—very clever man. Very few kittens n.ow In the bazar Ask Lone Sahib's sweeper’s wife.” So saying, Dana Da gasped and passed away Into a land where. If all be true, there are no Materializations and the making of new creeds Is discouraged. But consider the gorgeous simplicity of It all! V ., f t I ' I I I / A YOUNG man of twenty-two lay on a sofa In the great, cheerless room with his face to the wall. From time to time be clenched his hands In agony and bit his Ups to keep the hot tears from flowing. Only the day before he had been ntrong, rugged and happy; now he lay a helpless and pain-wraoked cripple doomed to a life of misery Just because the chestnut mare had. bolted «t the last fence After a time tHe door was opened to admit two men. unnoticed by the youth who lay moaning on the sofa. The younger man pushed the other aside, took a small phlul from his vest pocket, walked to the table, filled the syringe he found lying there ami administered che Injection to the suffering boy. The effect was Instantaneous. The boy's clenched hands relaxed, his face grew calm and peaceful; a great stillness seemed to settle over him. and ho opened his eyes "Hallo, Dr. Ylncey." be said cheerfully. "Well, flavoring, bow are you feeling?" "All right, thanks. It was pretty awful Just now. What did you give me?” “Nothing; my friend did it Shall I Intro duce him?" The bov looked up at the tall dark man who was watching him from the -background. "That was awfully good oJ* you." he said. "What w::s the stuff?” "It w - a iittle of a drug 1 brought back from Indi with me.” Caradac answered. "You must be awfully clever." Trevor Clav- n’hg said presently. The two doctors sat down, and presently the oys eyes grew heavy; a feeling of warm drowsiness stole over him. He smiled at them apologetically at last. "Thai drug—awfully sleepy.” he murmured. I>r Yincev took nlarni at once. "You are sure that stuff was perfectly all right. Caradoc?" be asked. "Perfectly. Unfortunately*, the effects pass off in that sleep. He will be no better and no worse when he awakes” "Caradoc.” the old doctor spoke slowly, hesi- ifttijniily, "J don't like the arts you practise. the unholy drugs you use, the experiments you attempt, but can you not do something for that boy ?” "1 will come and see him again to-morrow," the other replied. "I may possibly be able to cure him.” And with this answer Dr. Ylncey had to be content. It was In the afternoon of the next day that Caradoc again entered Trevor Clavering's room, lie bad come alone. The Invalid was longing with nil his soul to v the red-brown earth In the hers, after the hounc Is. He t cross-country rider in tho what was he? had been the bes country, and now- lie had worked bhnself up into his usual fit of despairing passion, so that when Caradoc stood beside him the strong face and powerful figure made bis helplessness seem greater. "Oh, i^s you!" he said ungraciously. "I can't bear any visitors." lie turned his head away and sulked. Caradoc made no sign that he bad heard I To sat down in a big chair on the opposite side of the fire. ••Clavering," he said. "I want to talk to you for a while. You have had enough of that tor ture! When do you mean to ride again?" The boy gasped. "Mv God!" he said In low. tense tones. "I would give all 1 possess to be half as strong as 1 was." "Which would you rather.” Caradoc asked, with h little smile, "live as you are. or—-die?” He looked straight Into the boy’s face. The action was theatrical but effective. Clavering felt the fascination of the man. "Die." he said curtly. Caradoc again took a small phial from his vest pocket and held It up to the light. It was full of a pale yellow liquid, thick and sluggish. Three drops of that." he said In the same even tones, "and it would be all over—all the pain and the misery and the torture It will cause strange dreams and then nothing. No horror or fear at all. and no traces after death to show you—cleared out." Then he began In a low musical voice to describe the morning hunt In the neighboring bills. The effect on Clavering was Wonderful. The thought that never again w*ould he par ticipate iij such pleasures caused him to writhe In agony and cry out hoarsely: "I don’t want to die; 1 want to live! I would give half my life to be able to ride again.” Caradoc s brilliant eyes were on the boy's face, steady, glowing. "You shall not die,” he said. "You shall live; you shall ride again." Clavering did not speak; he only waited breathlessly. "I have made a study of drugs unknown here," Caradoc went on, "and there is an ex periment with one of them which I want to try, If I can find a subject. That subject can only be a man in the prime of his life, who, at an earlier period, has passed through a time of both mental and physical agony—as you have. In every way you are the man fitted for my purpose If I give you back your lost health and strength, will you consent to give yourself to me at such a time as I shall re quire you?" "Can you give me back all I have lost?" Clavering asked, and the eagerness in his tones was piteous. "1 certainly can There Is an operation— almost unknown to the medical world—which will restore life and power to the spinal nerves, even when they are as badly damaged as In your case I have seen this operation once performed. It Is enough. I shall not fall." ' Are you sure? There Is no doubt about it?** "I am .certain." in you do it to-night” To-morrow? I’ll > thing, give you anything, If you make a man of me again.” "I only ask that you promise to give your self to me unconditionally at about a certain age probably In twenty years' time. When all is ready, I shall come for you.” Tw nty years? You give me twenty years? Why. man. it Is Heaven you are opening for me I must have your consent in writing; also. the arrangement must be kept a secret. You must fully understand tc what you are binding yourself. The experiment I wish to attempt to do with the brain and nerves. There is not the remotest chance of your recovering from It.” Clavering did not wait to think. "I agree," he said briefly. Gervase Caradoc was shown into the library, where, twenty years before, Trevor Clavering had lain helpless and In pain; where that strange bond had been signed between them; and where the operation wbl h had convulsed the medical world hnd been performed. In a few minutes the door opened and he turned to face Clavering, who came in quickly, shut the door and bowed. Caradoc looked at him steadily and the lids drooped over his brilliant eyes. Clavering was a magnificent animal: “Why did you—go away?" Caradoc asked. "I went on my honeymoon," Clavering said pleasantly. "Ah! You are married?” "1 am married." “So!” "I have been abroad. Did you follow me?" "No I had lost sight of you." Caradoc re plied, with the grace of a large mind which can concede a point. "Why did you return?" he added curiously. “Soonor or later I knew you would find me. I preferred that my wife should be settled here before " he paused. "Then you have made all your arrangements and are prepared”” "I am prepared to pay you anything you wish, instead of what was originally prom ised." "I only want what was originally promised." "You hold me to it. then? You hold me to a bond made when I was undergoing a most dev ilish torture, when 1 was too weak to resist your will?” Clavering's eyes flashed. "I hold you." Caradoc replied coldly, and Clav ering flared up. y Arthur Str "Then I absolutely refuse to do anything so diabolical." he said resolutely. "I refuse to keep the bond. I will pay you almost anything you may ask for the operation you performed twenty years ago. That is my final word.” Caradoc smiled a little. “I want no money," he said calmly. “I only want you. For thirty years I have waited. Ten years I was searching for a subject for this operation; then I found—you. I warn you," he added, "that whether you consent or refuse to keep the bond In one week from now my ex periment w*ill be complete." The steady, cruel voice lashed Clavering. "You must be mad,” he said, nervous with feverish rage. “Oh, you would like to make that charge? Who would believe you? What proof have you? No! You can find no escape," continued Cara doc. "Do you think I am going to die like a vivi sected dog?" Clavering cried, passionately. "Do you know how strong I am? Do you suppose I will lie down and let you or any man cut me open to please your brutal fancies while I have a breath of life In me?*’ His voice was hoarse and sRvage. His hands were clenched. He was fighting for the life he loved. Some one, singing softly, passed the closed door. The two men heard the voice and the light footsteps die away in the distance. Then Clavering spoke again. "Caradoc, that was my wife," he said, strug gling against a sob which threatened to master him. "I swore you should not come between us before I made her mine, and now—the crown of jvomanhood is coming to her*. For the sake of that, for the sake of any woman you have ever loved, let me go " The sneer on the other's face silenced him. Against Caradoc s powerful self-control his passloh had no chance. He had used his last argument; he could say no more. The footsteps crossed the hall again Then the door opened, and. full In the glory of the sunshine which streamed in behind her. stood his wife, young and beautiful, looking at Them over the flowers which filled her arms. "Oh, I beg your pardon," she said. "I thought you were alone." Obeying a sudden impulse, Clavering went to the door. “Come in,” he said. "Let me introduce you to my wife, Caradoc." “I believe we have met before.” she said quietly, bowing slightly and turning as if to leave the room. Caradoc came a step after her, as if to de tain her. His brilliant eyes were worshipping, they were hungry for love. Clavering opened the door, and as she passed she smiled at him. Then he swung round. "Where did you meet my wife," he demanded Caradoc was gazing out of the window, with his back to Clavering, and did not reply for several minutes. Then he turned a saddened and careworn face to Clavering. “I loved her first," he said slowly. "She wns the desire of my world. She never cared for me. I " he paused. He could not open his heart. “She was only a girl then. And I have saved you for her—that Is the Irony of It." "She loves me. If I die—" Clavering stopped short. The thought of her suffering was the greatest agony for him. "Yes, she loves you. It was in her eyes Just now, when she turned from me and smiled at you." Caradoc said, with a quaver in his vQloe. The man's whole bearing altered The life, the strength had gone from him. There was silence—a dragging silence, tense and painful, and then: "I give you back your bond, Clavering," Car adoc said. "I give up all the working and wait ing of my life." He turned to the door. Clavering could not find anything to say. In silence he held out his hand, but Caradoc refused to see it "Good morning," he said In dull tones. "The game lies with you after all." He went out, and Clavering looked after the man who had held his life In the hollow of hla hands, but who had given it back to him for the sake of a woman who had crossed his path in sunlight. i * i I For a Hundred Frills Read.... II, By JACK LONDON, which begins in the Monthly Magazine with S eriean vl