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j A BEHIND CLOSED DOORS ¥ One of the Greatest Mystery Stories Ever Written By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN It is Dr. Cameron’s Wedding Day. At 8 o’clock He Is to Marry Genevieve < 1 retorex, a Beau tiful Society Girl. At 4 o’Clock He Is In formed His Fiancee Has Disappeared. Opening Installment c MRS. GRETOREX TELLS THE DETECTIVE OF HER DAUGHTER’S DISAPPEARANCE - (Copyright, 1913. by Anna Katharine Green. > An Unexpected Visitor. I T was Dr. Cameron’* wedding day. At 8 o’clock In the evening the cere mony of marriage between himself and Genevieve Gretorex was to be per formed at the house of the bride’s par ents In St. Nicholas Place. It was now 4 o’clock. Seated In his office. Dr. Cameron, who, for a young man. enjoyed a most en viable reputation as a physician, mused over his past and built castles for the future; for his bride was the daughter of one of the richest and most influen tial citizens of New York, and to such ambition as his this fact, Implying, as it did, valuable connections in the pres ent and a large and unincumbered for tune in the future, was one that lent luster to her beauty and attraction to their union. Not but what he loved her —or thought he did—would have loved her under any circumstances. Was she not handsome, and in that reserved and somewhat haughty way he especially admired? Had she not fine manners and would she not add increased honor to a name already well known, and, as he might add, respected? Had Her Caprices. To be sure, she had her caprices, as a woman so circumstanced had a right to have, and she esteemed rather than adored him, as many little events in their short courtship only too plainly betrayed. But then he would not have admired a gushing bride, and, being what he was, a man of taste and the son of a man of taste, he found a cer tain satisfaction in the calm propriety of a match that united equal inter ests, without Jeopardizing that calmness of mind necessary to the successful practice bf his exacting profession. There was but one thing troubled him. Why had she refused to see him for the last seven days? She was not a woman of petty Instincts. Indeed, he had some times suspected her of possessing latent energies which the round of a fashiona ble life bad never called forth; and in her cool and somewhat languid gaz<? he had caught glimpses now and then of a spirit that only needed light and air to expand into something like great ness. Why, then, this strange desire for se clusion at a time when a woman is usually supposed to desire the support of her lover's society? Had he dis pleased her? Not only had his pres ents been rich, they had been rare and of an order to gratify her refined taste. Was she ill? He was her physi cian as well as lover, and he had not been notified of any indisposition. Besides the last time he had been so fortunate as to be received into her presence she had seemed well and looked blooming; more so, indeed, than he had seen her for some time, and, though somewhat nervous in manner, had exhibited an interest in his atten tions which he had not always observed in her. It was not a long interview, but he remembered it well; saw ugatn the almost timid look with which she greet ed him, followed by the smile that was nearly a shock to him—It was so much warmer and brighter than usual. Then the few' hurried words— for even that night site would not see him long—and the sudden coyness of her attitude as he took her hand in parting!—he recollect ed it all. He had not thought of it at the time, but now it seemed to him that there had been something strange in her whole bearing, an Impalpable change from her former self that he could not analyze, but which had. nev ertheless, left its impression upon him. The kiss he had received, for instance, had moved him. There had been warmth in it and her lips had almost re turned the pressure of his own. Was She Ill? This was new in the history of their courtship and would have argued, per haps. that she was beginning to recog nize his appreciation of her if her after conduct had not given the He to any such surmise As it was, it rather seemed to show that she had been in an unnatural condition—suggestive of In cipient fever, perhaps. She was 111; and they were trying to keep It from him! The butler’s excuses, “Miss Gretorex Is very much engaged, sir; Mrs. Gretorex’s regrets, sir, but Miss Gretorex has gone out on important business." were but polite subterfuges to blind his eyes to the real truth. And yet to bis calmer judgment how untenable was even this supposition. Had she been sick he could not have failed to have heard of it from some quarter. No. she waa not sick. She was but indulging in a freak easily to be explained, perhaps, by her mother's over-exciting code of etiquette, and. as In a few hours, she was to l^e his wife and life-long companion, he would cease to think of it, and only re member that kiss. He had reached this point In . his musing* when they were suddenly In terrupted. A tap was heard on Ihs office door With some irritation he arose. It was not time for his carriage and he had expressly ordered that no visitors or pa tients were to be receiver!. Who could it he, then? A messenger from Miss Gretorex? He sprang to the door at the thought. But before he could touch the knob, the door opened, and to his surprise and possible relief there en tered an unknown man of middle age and prepossessing appearance, whose errand seemed to he one of importance, though his manner was quiet and his voice startlingly gentle. A Visitor. “I hope I am not Intruding.” said he. ‘‘The hoy below told me this was your wedding day, but he also told me that the ceremony was not to take place till 8 o’clock this evening, and as my busi ness is peculiar and demands instant attention I ventured to come up.” “That is right,” answered Dr. Cam eron, feeling an unaccountable attrac tion toward the man. though he was not what you would perhaps call a gen tleman. and had, as the doctor could not but notice even at this early stage of their acquaintance, a way of not meeting your eye when he spoke that was to say the least, lacking In in genuousness “Is it as a patient you come to me?” ‘No,’’ rejoined the stranger, fixing his glance on the white necktie and one or two other insignificant articles which lay on the table near by, with an air strangely like that of compas sion. “My business is with *you as a doctor—that is, partly—but I am not the patient. I almost wish I were,” he added, in a troubled tone that awak ened the other’s interest notwithstand ing the natural preoccupation of his thoughts. “I^et me hear,” returned Dr. Cameron. "You make my task easy,’’ the stfan- ger remarked. "And yet.” he went on In a curter and more business-like tone, “you may be less willing to listen when I tell you that I have first a story to relate which. W’hile not \inlnterestlng In Itself Is so out of accord with your present mood that I doubt If y$u will be able to sit through it with patience. Yet it is necessary for me to relate it and necessary for you to hear it, now, here, and without any interruption.’’ This was alarming; especially as the speaker did not seem like a man given to sentimentalities or even to exaggeration. On the contrary he gave the Impression of a person accustomed to weigh his words with studious care, not allowing a sentence to escape him without a decided motive. "Will you tell me your name?” re quested Dr. Cameron. The reply cam<t quietly. “I doubt If you will know it. and I had rather you had not asked it. But since it is important above all things that you should trust me, I will say \ V. > \ “It is this note that causes our dilemma,” said Mrs. Gretorex. that ic Is Gryce. Ebenezer Gryce, and add that I am a member of the police force; in short, a detective." Dr. Cameron felt his apprehensions vanish. Whatever the other’s errand, it could not he one that touched him or his; and this to a man on hi's wedding day was certainly a comforting thought. “You undervalue your fame.” he re plied. “I know r your name well. Can it be possible you desire my assistance in a professional way?” The detective’s gaze, which had been resting gloomily upon a laughing cherub on the mantelpiece, shifted, but he did not respond to the doctor’s smile, and his manner remained unaltered. ”1 will tell my story,” said he. “It will be the quickest way to come to an understanding.” And without further pause >r prelim inary. lie began in the following words; The Dilemma. “I am getting to be an old man, and I have my infirmities. But there are still cases which are given to no one but me. Among them are those which involve the honor of persons in a high station of life.” Mr. Gryce paused. Dr. Cameron felt his apprehensions return. “You see." the» detective slowly re sumed. “I can keep a secret; that is. when the life and property of others are not endangered by my silence. I can do a detective’s work and keep a de tective’s counsel, only speaking when and where necessity requires.” He paused again. Dr. Cameron moved uneasily. “As in this case,” added the other, gravely. “This case?" repeated the doctor, Tt >w thoroughly alarmed. “What case? You excite me; tell me what you have to say, at once!” But the detective was not to he hur ried. ”1 was, therefore, not at all surprised,” he proceeded, as if no interruption had occurred, “when some three days ago I was requested tu call upon—Mrs. A., let us say —on business of a strictly confi dential character. Such summonses come frequently. Such a summons does not disturb an officer in the least. I never theless made haste to show myself ar Mrs. A.’s house, for Mrs. A., whom you perhaps know is a woman of some con sequence, and her husband is a man ot widespread reputation and influence. 1 found her at home, anxiously awaiting my appearance. As soon as she saw me she told me her trouble: ‘Mr. Gryce,’ said she, T am in a great dilemma. Something has occurred in my family which may or may not lead to a last ing dishonor. What I wish from you is aid to determine whether our fears are well grounded. If they are not, you will forget that you were ever called to this house.’ I bowed. I was already interested, for I saw that her anxiety was great, while I could not help being puzzled over its cause, for she had no son to disgrace her by his dissipations, and as for her husband, he was above reproach. She soon relieved my curios ity. “ ’Mr. Gryce,’ said she, ‘I have a daughter.’ “ ‘Yes,’ I returned, Inwardly startled. Miss A. and dishonor seemed so wide apart. “Our Only Child.” “ ‘She is our only child,’ the mother went on. ‘We love her, and have al ways cherished her, but though it is not generally known in this house’—and here the poor lady’s eyes roamed about her as if she were afraid that her words would be overheard, ’she has left us; gone away without acquainting us where—suddenly, inexplicably, leaving only the most meager explanation be hind her, and—and—’ “ ‘But, madam,’ I interrupted, ‘if she left any explanation—’ "Mrs. A. took a small and crumpled THEIR MARRIED LIFE Very Few Purcheses YOUR EYES IRE Conserve your vital force. Have your eye-strain corrected by our ac curately fitted glasses. Oculist service at optician's prices. L. N. HITT OPTICAL CO.. Two Stores, 70 Whitehall. 52 W. Mitchell. Adv. CHICHESTER S PILLS . TIIK 1MAMUVU BRAND a 1 Ladles! * B < bl-cb . mis; | I 7>ke "•» otker Buy «f . v » V A>* forCI:I-CIiEH.TpRn jI>IAM0NT> HR AMI PILL*.f**ft _peirskncwn as B«st. Safest. Always R c ::n,], ‘ WY DRUGGISTS EVERYWHFU5 By MABEL HERBERT URNER. I T was the morning of their third day in Paris that Helen started out to shop. She had read and heard so much of the big Parisian bazaars that she was athrlll with eager expectation. “Better take in tne Galeries Lafay ette first.” suggested Warren as they left the hotel together. “You can take a bus from there for the Bon Marche.” “Dear, wouldn’t you have time to go by the Lafayette with me—it’s only half past 9.” pleaded Helen, who dreaded starting out alone. “All right,” good naturedly, "that’s not much out of my way. Hurry up— let’s get this bus.” It was going to be another hot day. There was still no relief from the heat wave that had settled over Paris since their arrival But as Helen climbed gleefully to the top of the bus, the thought of the day in the Paris shops made her unmindful of the heat. “There you are ” Warren pointed out a huge building just ahead. From the top fluttered white banners and flags let tered gayiy in red. “Gaierles Lafayette.” It looked more like a great exposition building than a store. But when the\ left the bus. Helen was astonished to find that all along the sidewalk in front of the store were stalls, piled high with the cheapest kind of merchandise. She Is Lonely. There were tables of crockery, kitch enware. cotton dresses and waists, and around each was a chattering crowd of Frenchwomen pulling over the goods. l-a r gp l ardboani signs—"50 centimes.” "1 franc,” "2 francs”—were everywhere “Why. dear, would you think they’d al low these push-cart peddlers outside a reputable store 0 Why, it’s like a cheap market place!” They re not push-cart peddlers,” laughed W arren. “This is all part of the Galeries Lafayette—that's how they sell their cheap goods Our stores have bargain basements—here they have stalls outside the shop. Now I've got to leave you Don’t overdo it and get too tireu Better not be on your feet | too much this hot day.” | Helen s interest in the scene about I * ^ er 8 ° on Vanished the momentary feel ing ui .onepue.-- us Warren disappeared in the crowd. For some time she stood on the sidewalk watching the stalls and the chattering, pushing crowd about them. Warren was right. I'nquestion- ably this was part of the store, for bareheaded French floor-walkers, with frock coats and twisted mustaches, walked up and down the sidewalk. Although Helen had often heard that the Galeries Lafayette was one of the best Paris shops, this street sale of goods made her most skeptical. But when she entered, she saw that it was really a very beautiful store. In the center was a great rotunda under a crystal dome. An imposing marble staircase with dou ble escalators led to the upper galleries. Everywhere was a lavish and seem ingly haphazard display of goods. It was all very different from a New York shop. There seemed no aisles, only a vast labyrinth of tables piled with goods in chaotic disorder the most tawdry heaped carelesly with the most expen sive. The confusing display of the greaE quantities of merchandise, the riot of color, the crowd, the uproar and tumult were to Helen most bewildering. Hoping that the upper galleries would be less crowded and tumultuous. Helen made her way to the long line of ele vators. Glancing over the directory of the floors, she located "Lingerie” and “Trousseaux.” French lingerie is a luxury coveted by every American woman, and as Helen stepped from the elevator at the third gallery into what seemed a great ex hibition of white goods, her heart beat with expectation. On every side was a network of tables and counters heaped with white gar ments—chemisettes, jupons and robes de nuites. Over the tables were cards with "Occasion” or “Grand Occasion,” the French phrase for bargains. Almost everything was hand embroid ered and mostly unlaundered, the blue penciled tracing of the patterns being still distinct. Helen was surprised to find that while even the cheapest garment, those as low as six or seven francs, were em broidered by hand, the garment itself was made by machinery, the seams carelessly stitched, and the buttons half off. She thought of the poor women in the convents where most of this work is done. How poorly paid they must be to embroider such inferior goods! She looked first for some dainty, low- necked night dresses wtth short butter fly sleeves, but she saw only ungainly garments with high necks and long sleeves. Was this the much-lauded lin gerie? At last, in some glass cases, where the most expensive models were displayed, she found some exquisite low-neck short-sleeved gowns. “How much? Quel prix?” Helen de manded of a passing clerk, pointing to a garment in the case. The girl opened the case and looked at the ticket. Helen could not under stand her. but. stooping over, she read the ticket herself—90 francs. Eighteen dollars! Helen tried to make her understand with a few words of French, much En glish and many gestures that she wanted to see some gowns of that cut. but much less expensive. The girl touched a loud gong. wh*% was a signal for an English-' speaking clerk, and one promptly ap peared. “Almost all of our low-neck and short- sleeved gowns are in the expensive mod els,” the clerk explained. “But of course we have some for less than 90 francs Now here is quite a pretty gown for 35 francs." Seven dollars! Except for her trous seau, Helen had never paid $7 for a nightgown in her life. And she had no intention of paying it in Paris, where she had expected to get things ridicu lously cheap. Only One Purchase. “Well. I’ll let the nightgowns go for the present, hut I’d .like to see some combinations and skirts "About what price does madam wish to pay?" asked the clerk, with lessen ing cordiality, for she expected Ameri cans not to object to prices. “About three or four dollars—fifteen or twenty francs.” “They're all out on the tables, mad-- am. We keep only the more expensive ones in this department.” “But I could never button these,” ex claimed Helen, viewing with disfavor the combinations, which all opened in the back. “And they’re all too large—1 want 34.” "You won’t find bust measures in Par is like you have in America, madam. We Jiave only three sizes here. You see. they're marked with tickets—the green ticket is small, the pink ticket medium and the yellow ticket larce." Helen expressed her ag^nishment that in Paris, where fit and style were sup- posed to be perfected, they should have only three sizes instead of the eight— from 32 to 46—that are carried by every American store! The intention to buy enough lingerie while in Paris to last her for the next two years was somewhat shaken. And she finally left the department, having made just one purchase—a white skirt with a hand-embroidered flounce. Even this she could not get the right length. It would have to be shortened when she got it home. From the lingerie, Helen walked down the broad marble staircase to the gal lery below. Just at the foot of the stairs were a dozen or more tables overburdened with parasols. She had never seen so many parasols together in her life. Most of them were brilliant in coloring and design, vivid reds, bright greens and startling blues. Farther on was a gorgeous display of scarfs—the long chiffon scarfs that the French women wear with their’evening gowns. They lay In careless glittering heaps, shimmering with gold and silver spangles and iridescent headings. Helen had thought the hues and fab rics in the shope at home particularly loud this year, but they were mild and subdued compared with the riotous col oring of everything here. In spite of the whirring electric fans the heat was excessive, and before Hel- J en had explored half the departments of the Galeries Lafayette she was ex hausted. Although she had spent most of the day there, her purchases were trivial, 1 but she had a fair idea of what a big j Paris shop was like. It was good to get back to their j rooms, to have time to bathe, rest and dress before Warren came “Well, how’ did you get along?” was his greeting when he got in a little after 6. "Buy out all the Paris shops?” “Not quite. I left a few things in the Galeries Lafayette! That was the only- place I went.” “How did you find things? Cheaper than at home?” "Some things are. But, dear, the styles and colorings are so extreme. Do you know.” thoughtfully, ”1 really be lieve I can find the things I want bet ter in New York.” “Course you can! Nothing’s more overrated th in the French styles. They are made for French women—not for Americans. And nine-tenths of the Americans w ho come over here and buy a lot of truck are blamed sick of their bargains when they get 'em home." Scotland Yard Detectives at Once Begin a Search for the Missing Young Woman. Dr. Cameron Is Terribly Shocked by the Disap- appearance of the Lovely Genevieve. note out of her pocket and handed it to me. “ ‘A letter.’ she affirmed, ‘sent through the mail. And I was in the house when she left, and would have listened to any reasonable request she had to make.’ “I had already read the four or five lines which the letter contained: “ ‘Dear Mother: I must have rest. I have gone away for a few days, but shall be back on the 27th. Don’t worry. “ ‘Your affectionate .’ “ ‘What is the matter with this?’ I asked. ‘She says she will be back on the 27th, and to-day is only the 24th.’ “ ‘Sir,’ was the answer, ‘it is the only time in our experience when our daugh ter has left us without first gaining our permission. Besides, the time is espe cially inopportune. My daughter’s wed ding cards are out.’ ” Mr. Gryce stopped suddenly, for Dr. Cameron had given an anxious start. “Ah. that arouses your interest!” re marked the detective. “Your own wed ding being so near, I am not surprised.” It was dryly said, and the doctor at once reseated himself. He had no wish to appear unduly moved, but he could not suppress even' token of emotion, so he turned his head away from ihe light. Mr. Gryce let his gaze travel to a new object before proceeding. Only One Conclusion. “This avowal of Mrs. A. put a new aspect on affairs,’’ said he. “but yet I saw no reason for the extreme anxiety displayed. ‘And on what day does she expect to be married?’ I asked. “ ‘On the 27th.’ “ ‘But she says she will be back.’ “ ‘That does not comfort me.’ “ ‘You think she will not come.’ “ ‘I have no hope that she will.’ “This acknowledgment was uttered with emphasis. There seemed to be but one conclusion to draw. “ ‘Your daughter wishes to escape her engagement?” “The answer was less emphatic than before. In fact, It expressed doubt. “ ‘I do not know, sir; my daughter Is not herself, has not been for some time. My husband and myself have both noticed it; but we never antici- j pated her taking any such extreme ac- i tion as this. Where has she gone? What will become of her? How can we face j the world? How can we tell her lover?’ “ ’Then you think ’ “ ‘That she is laboring under a tem porary aberration of mind, caused, per haps. by the excitement of the last few weeks; that she is not responsible for her acts; that she may be anywhere, remote or near, and that we may wait till the hour set for her marriage is past without seeing her.’ "To this I could make but one reply: ‘Th^n why not take her lover Into your confidence, inform him of your fears, and gain the benefit of His experience in your search for her?’ A MOTHER’S FEARS. “The answer will astonish you. “ ‘Because we are very proud and he is very proud. To explain our fears we should be obliged to say much that it would be humiliating for us to utter and for Tiim to hear. Besides, we may overrate the situation. She may come back: as she says she will and, should this be the case, you can see for your self what endless regret would follow any such confidences as you suggest.’ “ ‘But’—I began. “ Tt is this note that causes our di lemma,’ she interposed. ‘With these lines before me I can not act as if there were no hope of her returning in proper time to take her part in the cer emony. Yet I do not trust these lines, nor the promise she has made. Why, I can hardly say; for she has always been a woman of her word. But she is not herself, of that I am con vinced.’ “This repetition of her former asser tion made it easy for me to inquire what special o^.nge she had perceived in her daughter to lead to such a con clusion. She evidently found it dif ficult to reply. “ ‘I can not put it Into words,’ she de clared. ‘I feel the change.’ “ ‘And how long have you felt it?’ “ 'Not long: since we began active preparations for her wedding. I think.’ “ ‘And has no one else observed it?’ “ ‘I can not say. I should think her lover would.’ “Why?’ “ ‘Because it has been in reference to him she has shown her peculiarities strongest. For weeks she has received him only on sufferance and for the last few days has more than once abso lutely refused to see him.’ “And what reason did she assign for this?’ Prepared for Wedding:. “ ‘Follies. Fatigue, caprice, a letter to write, a dressmaker to see—anything that came into her head.’ “ ‘Yet she went on preparing for her wedding?’ “ ‘Certainly; her cards were out.’ “The tone in which this was said caused me to reflect. Though affable, kindly an.! even * philanthropic in her dealings toward the world at large, Mrs. A. Is. as every one knows, a woman who would find it very difficult to in fringe upon any of the laws of society. Having seen her daughter pledge her self to a man of suitable pretensions, she would consider such a pledge final if only because she could n»«t face the talk and scandal that would follow a rupture. Influenced ly nis idea, I re- market^: “ ‘You must be perfectly frank with me if you want me to help you at this crisis. Has your daughter, or has she not, expressed a wish to break her en gagement?’ i ” ’She asked me once if I thought it j too late for her to do so. Of course there was but one reply to this, and 1 she said no more. But,' the poor mother J continued hastily, ‘that was only a symptom of flightiness. She has noth ing against her lover, does not pretend to have.’ “ ‘Only against marriage?* “ ‘Only against marriage.’ “ ‘Mrs. A.,’ I now boldly asked, ‘do you think she loves the man you expect her to marry?’ “The answer came hesitatingly. ‘She accepted his attentions with pleasure when they were first offered.’ “ 'Do you think she loves any other man?’ The mother shrank back in dismay. "I am sure she does not. How could she? There is not another such gen tleman in our circle of acquaintance.” “This was flattering to the gentleman, but not exactly satisfactory to me. “ 'You know girls sometimes take strange whims.’ “ ’My daughter is not a girl, she Is a woman.’ “This silenced me as it would you, sir, I have no doubt; and seeing the mother was really sincere in believing that her daughter’s mind was tempo rarily affected, I inquired again as to what she had done or failed to do of late, and fAund that she had shunned the society of the members of her fam ily as well as that of her lover, finding her sole interest seemingly In the prep aration of her wardrobe. “To that she did attend,’ said Mrs. A., 'and it was the only.thing she did help me in. No hour was too late for her to see her dressmaker; no engagement too press ing for her to receive and fit on any of the new costumes that kept coming home. Indeed she showed more than a bride’s usual Interest in such matters; ami it is the one reason I have for not disputing you utterly when you say she may come back. She will want to see her dresses.’ A Clew. “ ‘Then she did not take them with her?* “ ‘She took nothing.’ “ ‘What! not a ti*unk?’ “ ‘Nothing; that is, nothing but a lit tle hand satchel.’ “ 'How do you know this?' “ ‘We all saw her go out; she was in shopping costume.’ “ ‘But she had money?* “ ‘I can not say. Some, no doubt; but we found a large roll of bills in her drawer, and her father says it contains nearly all he had lately given her. I do not think her pocketbook held more than five dollars.’ “ ‘This was a point. Either the girl was going amongst friends, or she was really touched In her mind. To make sure that the first supposition was not true, I asked for a list of the houses which Miss A. was in the habit of visit ing. Mrs. A. mentioned some half- dozen, but added that her daughter’s most Intimate companion was in Europe and that she did not think she cared enough for the others to go to them at this time. “ ‘And she positively carried no bag gage with her?’ “ ’None. I have looked her things over carefully and find nothing missing. She did not even wear her diamonds.’ “ ‘And her watch?’ ” ’Is left behind.’ To Be Continued To-morrow. INDIGESTION? Stop it quickly; Have your grocer send you one doz. bottles of SHIVA R GINGER ALE Drink with meals, and if not prompt ly relieved, get your money back at our expense. Wholesome. deli cious, refreshing. Prepared with the celebrated Shivar Mineral Water and the purest flavoring materials. SHIVAR SPRING, Manufacturers SHELTON, S. C. E. L. ADAMS CO., Distributor*, Atlanta. COLLEGE-CONSERVATORY Imbued with the spirit of the Old South, alive with the progress of the New South. Brenau offers unsur passed advantages for advanced study in Literature, Art, Expression. 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