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BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
One of the Greatest Mystery Stories Ever Written
The Ballroom Tango
A Pretty and Refined Way of Dancing This Popular Whirl
The Snake Charmer
By INGLIS ALLEN.
By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN.
(Copyright, 1913, by Anna Katharine
Green.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
But before he bad worked his way
half through he paused. stepped aside
and took up hla station against the wall
in a position that gave him a good view
of the scene, without attracting too
much attention to himself. "Since I am
at a swell wedding I might as well aee
the bride," he continued to himself,
turning his gaze, however, in any other
direction than that by which she was
expected to descend "If she looks more
like her photograph than the other girl
does, well and good, I am an old fool
and it is about time for me to take down
my sign and shut up shop. But if, on
the contrary, she looks less like it; if
her expression varies or she is fairer
or larger than one would suppose from
the picture they gave me. then I can
lay the fault on the photographer and
regain some portion at least of my self
esteem.” And unmindful of the curi
ous glances which now and then found
him out, he retained hla place through
the weary minutes of waiting that now
ensued, amusing himself as usual In
gathering together such odds and ends
<»f talk as floated by him and stowing
them away in the storehouse of hia
brain, which already held so many se
crets even of some of those who passed
him by in gay apparel without a thought |
that the grave, quiet, rather benignant- |
looking man who was go occupied with j
the device on Mr. Gretorex’s great hall J
clock was he who held In his keeping J
their fortune and possibly their good
name
A Sigh of Relief.
At length, with a sigh of relief that '
ran through the length of those vast j
parlors, the strains of the wedding
march w r ere heard, and Mr. Gryce,
whose interest in the aforementioned j
device now because absolutely absorb- (
ing, shifted his portly figure a step or j
so, while the throng at his side pressed |
l»ack and a path was made for Mr. and
Mrs. Gretorex, and then after what
seemed a long and unnecessary interval
for the bride and groom, who, contrary
to the usual arrangement, descended to
gether. They passed near, very r ear
that great hall clock; so near that tlie
bride's veil brushed the homely habili
ments of the man who stood there; but
she did not notice this, nor to all ap
pearance did he, for his eyes never left
the clock, though a careful observer j
might have perceived that his lips
pressed a little closer together after she j
went by, and that he did not wait for
her to pass over the threshold of the |
parlor doof before taking his departure. J
But no one thought of him. All eyes |
were on the bride, and Utile did any
one think, least of all, she whom it most
concerned, that the faint, half-sup
pressed click which they had Just heard
denoted the withdrawal of one whose
powers of observation were more to be
dreaded than were those of the whole
vast crowd he had left behind him. If
she had—but our interest is not at pres
ent with the bride, pale and troubled as
she is, but with this man who but a
short time ago entered the house with
feelings of almost beneficent concern for
its Inmates, only to leave It now, with
a sore and humiliated heart.
For in the one glimpse he caught of
the bride -and he saw her, though he
did not appear to do so—he had dis
cerned nothing to relieve his dissatisfac
tion with himself. If the other girl was
like the picture, this pale, haughty self-
contained woman was the picture Itself.
There was no mistaking this much, us
his pride would have been gratified to
have found it otherwise.
Details that were lacking In the oth
er girl's countenance were here, and
an expression which made him ac
knowledge to himself that he would
henceforth trust no man's eyes, not
even his own, In this delicate matter of
Identification, the least shade of a look
making sometimes all the difference be
tween one person and another. He
went out of the house, feeling, as I
have said, very old. and he even was
conscious of a twinge or two of rheu
matism as he stepped down the icy
steps and prepared to take his way
round the house to the street. For
this reason perhaps, and also because
the walk was more or less slippery, he
went very slowly, so that he was just
at the corner of the house when that
startling scream was heard, whidh as
we know so seriously distured the minds
of those who were witnessing the cere
mony. A muffled cry It was. and to
those outside sounded as if It came
from the upper story of the house.
But when the detective paused and
looked up at the window’s overhead he
saw’ nothing, and being in a very in
different mood, went on his way. re
membering the occurrence only as a
sort of lagubrlous echo to the rather
melancholy thoughts in which he had
been at that moment indulging.
At the Hotel.
His courst was toward the city. He
took it direct, getting on the elevated
train at One Hundred and Twenty-
fifth street and getting off again at
Twenty-third. Why Twenty-third"
Was it not late enough for him to go
home? He evidently did not think so.
Without hesitation and with a certain
determination of manner, he went Im
mediately to the C Hotel.
Let us follow him.
"Well, I suppose the wedding has
come olt."
These were his words to the clerk
Who was still at his desk in the office
The clerk looked at him and laughed.
“No,” was his quick rejoinder, "it
didn’t. The bride absconded.”
"What is that?”
Mr. Gryce's tone was quite sharp.
His face resumed its old expression.
“She ran off: didn’t wait for the
clergyman; afraid to risk herself with
auch a glum-looking customer as Moles-
Molesworth, I suppose, 1 can't say I
blame her.”
Humph! You Interest me. And at
J*'*ur was this; how soon after
you had not been gone more than half
worth. I suppose. I can’t say I blame
came with the Rev. Mr. Pease at his
heels, and she was not here then, nor
had been some little time.”
"Who saw her go out?"
"The hall boy."
"No one else*”
"I think not."
"Didn't she leave any word behind
her?"
"Yes, a note; It was laying on the
table in her room Molesworth got It."
"The door then was open?*’
"It was unlocked.”
"Curious. There seems to he some
difficulty in the way of wedlock to
night. I have Just come from a wed
ding and the bride was three-quarters
or more an hour late. But Molesworth,
as you call him how did he take it?”
"That's hard telling, he looked grim
enough, but then he was none too
cheerful looking before. Anything but
a bridegroom in appearance at any
time But, then, it was rather hard
lints for him. 'Twould make any man
angry, Mr Pease on hand, and no
bride! I declare, I felt cheap myself;
and the chambermaid, I believe, shed
tears, grieving over the loss of the
good fee she expected, I suppose.”
"Yes, it’s quite thrilling, quite roman
tic,” quoth Mr. Gryce, enthusiastically.
Then. In quieter tones, remarked; "You
were all in the room, then?”
He Was no Fool.
"No, I didn't know anything about It
till Dr. Molesworth came down, and,
giving me the price of the room, re
marked that there would be no wed
ding at present, the young lady having
preferred to wait till she could have
her friends about her.”
"Ah!" ejaculated Mr. Gryce.
"Neat, wasn’t it?" remarked 1he clerk.
"But he is no fool; and though I knew
on the spot that she had run away for
good, I couldn’t help giving him credit
for coolness. But It was all in his
words; his look was terrible."
Mr. Gryce's eyes fixed themselves ©n
the small lamp used to light cigars.
‘"I can imagine it," said he.
"But he wasn't tragic; not a bit of
It," continued the clerk. "Not even
when he took out the note he had evi
dently received from the girl, and
burned it in the flame of that Jet.”
"Oh! he burned it, did he?"
‘"Down to the very end.”
"And then went away?"
"Directly.”
“Well, this has been a delightful even
ing!" commented Mr. Gryce; and he
lounged away a few more minutes in
the. office; then went out, and, entering
a drug store near by, searched for an
address in tlie directory.
"I can not sleep; why, then, not amuse
myself?” his look seemed to say, as,
glancing up at the clock, he j>assed
again into the street and betook himself
west ward.
Certainly one does not run across such
a complication every day, and when one
is a detective, why not enjoy now and
then the advantages of his position?
Mr. Gryce went up the steps of a four-
story brick building to which was at
tached a doctor’s sign. t
A middle-aged woman, of neat enough
appearance, answered his ring, after a
short delay.
"Is the doctor In?” he asked.
She shook her head, and glancing at
a slate that hung on one of the pegs
of the old-fashioned hallrack, declared:
"He won’t be home before to-mor
row.”
"And T am so 111," murmured the de
tective, with an air of great weakness.
He had read her character at a glance.
"You!" she exclaimed.
"And 1 have come so far," he w’ent
on. "I thought surely I should see him
to-night, if I came late enough. I know
he Is going to he married soon, hut ’’
"Married!" The interruption was full
of surprise and Incredulity. "Married!
Dr. Molesworth! I guess you are mis
taken. ’
"Oh. no," the old gentleman persist
ed, assuming with every instant a look
of greater distress.
"1 had it from one who knows him
intimately. He is going to be married,
hut sensible girls don’t keep their lovers
out too late, and I thought 1 might find
him In. 1 wish I had, for when I have
these turns nothing but opium will help
me, and the drug clerks won’t give it to
me without a doctor’s prescription. I
must go on."
But the old lady’s sympathy as well
ns curiosity had been aroused. She was
a widow and a hoarding house keeper,
but she had a heart and was not afraid
of showing it.
The Landlady.
She therefore stopped him as he hob
bled toward the door, and, showing him
the way into the parlor, asked him to
sit down by the fire and warm himself
a moment before going out.
"I am sitting up," she explained, "be
cause there are still four or five of my
young men out, and as 1 do not give
night-keys to any one but the doctor, I
have to sit up, or ask some of my hard
working girls to do so It is deary wait
ing sometimes, but, on the whole, they
are considerate, and I don’t complain."
Then as she saw, or thought she saw,
the old gentleman's face grow brighter
in the really genial glow of the good
hard-coal fire before them, she asked in
a hospitable tone if he had ever heard
whom the doctor was going to marry.
He shook his gray hairs indifferently,
picked out with his glance a coal in the
fireplace, and began to study It intently.
"1 never paid it any attention.” said
he. "I am getting too old to busy my
self much about such matters; and girls
are all the same to me, unless it be one
girl," he added, with a half-senile, half-
pathetic smile, taking from his pocket
as he did so a photograph which he
looked at fondly.
’Your daughter?” inquired the old
lady.
"My granddaughter," he replied, with
enthusiasm.
She leaned over as women will at the
sight of any picture in the hand of an
other, and quietly looked at it.
"Good heavens," she exclaimed, "It is
Mildred Farley.”
"Mildred Farley," he repeated, in mild
surprise, ”1 never heard that name
This is Joanna Handscombe."
By LILIAN LAUFERTY.
{{ry>HERE Is nothing new under
I the sun”—as we have been
frequently informed, but
there are new combinations of all
the old ideas, and a clever combina
tion of five or six old things results
In one brand new one. Just a year
or two ago we fully persuaded our
selves that tangos and turkey-trots
and bunny hugs and monkey
wrenches were the latest things—but
they weren’t, bless you—no! Thev
were cakewalks and barn dances and
two-steps arranged In a to-be-well-
shaken-before-taken conglomeration
and accompanied by a little hula-hula
or other music native to any other
soil but our own.
A New Combination.
Now two of New York’s cleverest
cancers have thought up a fascinat
ing new combination and permutation
of steps taken from the tango Argen
tina, the Spanish bolero and the beau
tiful and bo completely forgotten as
to be really new minuet. In a little
three-cornered chat with Katherine
Witchie and Ralph Riggs, of Lew
Fields' "All Aboard” company, now
playing at the Forty-Fourth Street
Roof Garden, 1 learned just how to
do the new tango bolero, as they
mean to call It. Of course. most of
us lack the inherent grace, the care
ful training and the untiring study of
their artistic calling that the clever
couple bring to make their dancing
a thing of beauty—even if it Is , alas!
a Joy for but a few fleeMng moments
Instead of the hours and hours one
would gladly sit and s*udy their
twinkling twirls.
"But we’ll show r you just how and
we’ll tell you just how.” said pretty
little Miss Katherine, “and then if
you practice and practice, and if even-
“First of all,”
says Miss
Witchie, “be
sure you have
good music.
Then make
sure you know
how to point
your toe grace
fully.”
This move
ment is shown
in the top
picture.
little grapevine in and out and In
and out by the upstretched fingers.
At the *hd of this movement he >3
holding her at arm's length, his lifted
right arm holding her left hand, and
from this position he draws her
around in front of him and they do a
little flying forward ste- In perfect
unison, right arms held together and
weight on the right foot at the be
ginning of the movement, and left
foot pointing to the back and drop
ping slowly to take the weight.
"Do this hack and forth eight times
in tango style, and then swing Into
figure three—hands clased in front,
and girl’s left and man's right foot
pointing toward the side back In a
knee-hight position parallel to th?
floor. Swing from foot to foot, look
ing in the direction of the uplifted
foot; do this eight times, as for all
dances of the tango family. Anil now
for the pretty little minuet finish—
you, Katherine, please."
Very Fetching.
And murmuring: something about
“In at the finish,” Miss Witchie con
cluded our profitable little chat with
a description of the quaint and dainty
steps.
“It Is the conventional dancing
minuet bow. The man holds his
partner's outstretched right hand in
his left, with right hand on heart,
and left toe pointing forward. Tnc
girl points her right foot, and holds
her right arm poised with upturned
wrist, and then gradually through
eight bars they separate Into a deep
curtsey. Don’t you think that a dear
little conclusion o our tango-bolerV!
And don’t you think It would be per
fectly polite to dance that In any
ballroom 7”
Perfectly polite, and very fetching
and pretty, I think, don’t you? And
I hope we may all learn to do it with
a fraction of the dainty g-ace and
modesty shown by Its Inventors.
Up-to-Date Jokes
‘ ‘ Then take a waltz position. ’ ’
(Posed by Katherine Witchie and Ralph Riggs.)
one who reads follows the same
course—why, when we introduce our
dance every one will have that at-
home feeling of knowing just how to
join in the chorus.
Good Music Essential.
“First of all, be sure you have
good music—the tango and the bolero.
Then make sure that you know how
to point your toe gracefully in some
what the way the ballet dancers do.
Then take a waltz position, girl’s
right hand on her partners left
shoulder, man’s left hand at the back
of his partner’s waist, the other hands i
clasped loosely and held almost at |
shoulder height, faces turned toward j
the outheld arms, and corresponding
ly the girl’s left and the man’s right
foot pointing straight in the direction
of the aim.
"Now, to tango music take the
eight steps and the long gliding slide
and recoving stamp that are char- I
acteristlc of this dance of Spanish |
extraction via Argentina. Then with I
arms still pointing to the girl’s left, j
do the same steps toward the right
Swing into all the tango steps you
know and can do easily and graceful
ly, and then suddenly the music
changes to the real Spanish bolero—
and you go on, Ralph,” said Miss
Witchie, with true sportsmanlike de
sire to share and share alike.
Mr. Riggs laughed his appreciation
of the feminine desire to be the lis
tening partner, and "went on”; "As
the bolero begins, the girl Is left and
the man is right. Her left foot points
forward, her right arm is held high
above the head, just touching the tips
of the man’s Angers, while the other
hands touch at arms’ length at waist
height.
"Then the man twirls the girl in a
"My wife,” said Mr. Clarke, "sent
ten dollars in answer to an adver
tisement of a sure method of getting
rid of superfluous fat.”
"And what did she get for the
money? Was the information what
she wanted?” asked Mr. Simmons.
“Well, she got a reply telling her to
sell it to the soap man.”
• • •
Mrs. Blinks (to her neighbor)—Oh,
I do so like your house. It seems to
homelike.
Mrs. Jinks—Do you think so?
Mrs. Blinks—Yes, indeed; you've
got so many of my cooking dishes
borrowed, you know, that your kitch
en seems ever so much more natural
than mine does.”
• • *
The small girl had been exasper
ated all day and at last her mother
lost patience and administered cor
poral punishment. The child had
scarcely recovered from her sobs
when she looked up and said:
“Mother, you must try to control
that temper of yours.”
* * •
At a dinner of firemen recently the
following sentiment was proposed:
"The Ladies! Their eyes kindle
the only flame we can not extinguish
and against which there is no insur
ance.”
• • •
"You may not believe it, but smok
ing is a remedy for my headaches,”
he apologized.
"Most pigs are cured that way,”
responded his wife, without emotion.
* * •
Brown—Stout people, they say, are
rarely guilty of meanness or crime.
Jones—Weil, you see, it's so diffi
cult for them to stoop to anything
low.
■ fl tj f* *UB fVJ crunni ic central purpose for 120 years has been
muflHin Jl/flJUL 3 t0 makc Men of B oys. Asheville climate
world renowned Organization Military. Two details from U. S. Army al
lowed to N. C. The A. &■ M. College has one, Bingham the other. Target and
Gallery practice, with latest U. S. Army Rifles. Lake for Swimming. Sum
mer Camp during July and August. Tuition and Board IlfW per Half Term.
$300 a year. Address Col. R. Bingham, Box 6, Asheville. N. C.
Advice to the Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
r:ew minutes, I should say, for ^ To Be Continued To-morrow,
ISN’T IT LATE TO ASK THAT?
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am dead in love with a young
man of twenty. He says he would
not take the whole world for me,
and he says that he could not live
without me. He has asked me to
marry him. 1 accepted his offer
and he gave me a diamond ring
last year. I have been going with
him for the past two years. I am
a girl of eighteen. Do you think
that I should marry’ him or wait?
Neither could live without the
other, and this condition has last
ed two years.
M. F.
Under the circumstances, my dear,
Isn’t it late to ask such a question?
If there is ar.y bar to vour marriage
further than that of your youth and
his, you do not state what It la.
THERE IS A WAY.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am 20 and in love with a girl
of 10, and if 1 don’t win this girl
I’ll go crazy. 1 proposed, but her
parents object because 1 am of a
different religion. The girl loves
me, but she waits for her pa
rents’ consent. Will you please
help m e to win this girl, because
I think of her all the time?
THOMAS.
She will not marry without her
parents’ consent, and she is right.
You say their objection is based on
your church. You do ndt say what
your church is, but do you love the !
girl si) much you would change it?
I do not advise it. I simply sug- )
gest that the means of overcoming I
the objection to you lies in yourself. I
You must not demand that the girl |
l make the sacrifice. J
OCEAN VI EW HOTEL
PABLO BEACH. FLA.
10-hour ride from Atlanta, 17 miles from Jacksonville, Fla.
Most accessible asd best beach resort for Atlantans or Geor
gians. American plan. Reasonable rates.
T HE long, lighted car sweeps
swiftly up through the night,
and the little man, waiting on
the curb by my side, deftly extin
guishes his cigarette against his coat
sleeve and mounts the step before me.
I enter and seat myself by the door,
idly noting that tl^p car is otherwise
empty save for a huge male form
sprawl.ug in the corner at the further
end. Opposite me the little man has
closed weary eyes. For my own part,
I fall to watching through the door
way the crawling market carts, with
their huddled drivers, as one by one
we overtake and leave them behind.
A touch on my elbow disturbs my
contemplations. I turn to find that
the large man was vacated his cornel
and is leaning confidentially toward
me.
“ ’Ere,” he observes with a myste
rious air, “I want to speak to you.”
He is a very large man. indeed, in
whom the absence of a collar is mad*
the more noticeable by a high-colored
flannel shirt open at the neck. He
has twisted himself In his seat so as
to face me. and, with sudden disqui
etude, I make the discovery that the
breast of his shirt is undulating with
the movements of some live body be
neath it. With triumpnant eyes fixed
on mine, he inserts his hand beneath
the garment, and, withdrawing it im
pressively, holds up a particularly re
pulsive-looking snake for my inspec
tion.
I’m always doing this*,” he remarks
with delight. "I’m an’ me’s pals. Ted
dy I call ’im. After my wife’s fa
ther.”
I express my satisfaction at this
highly sociable state of affairs and at
the same time the conductor makes
his appearance.
He accepts a coin mechanically
from the semi-somnolent man oppo
site. his gaze straying curiously over
his shoulder toward my neighbor.
A Bedfellow.
The latter, overjoyed at his atten
tion. persuades the snake to further
vagaries.
“I’m always doin’ this,” he explains
with the name delight. "Teddy ‘is
name it* 'E sleeps with me at night.”
The conductor grins.
My neighbor falls to caressing his
snake again. Soon he leans forward,
and with a push at the knee arouses
the little man opposite from his slum
bers. The latter regards his perform
ance for awhile In stolid silence.
"That ain’t nothin’.” he observes,
and closes his eyes again.
Attention is diverted by the en
trance of two new passengers—a
young gentleman in rather wide trou
sers and a young lady in a very nar
row skirt. At a glance my neighbor
marks them down as his prey. He
rises, lurches across the tram, and
seats himself beside them. With a
beaming smile, he puts the snake
through its performance for their ben
efit the pair watching him with
marked apprehension.
"Teddy, I call ’im,” he observed af
fably. “I’m always doin' this.”
The information seems in no way
reassuring to his audience, who re
main watchfully silent. Suddenly he
withdraws the snake from his shirt
and holds it toward the young man.
"Try 'im yerself,” he suggests gen
erously. “I’ve no objection. Put ’im
down your neck, mate.”
There is a sudden scuffling sound
as the young lady rises precipitately
and moves to the farther end of the
car. Her escort, about to follow, is
detained by a huge hand upon his
sleeve.
" ’E won’t 'urt yer. Put 'im down
yer neck, boss Yer ought to get
used to that sort of thing, yer know.”
It is evident that the young man
has no sense of this duty to himself;
by a sharp movement he frees his
arm, and.with such dignity as he can
muster Joins his companion at the
farther end. The snake-charmer re
mains looking after him with an out
raged stare.
Meanwhile the car has stopped, and
there has been an Influx of passen
gers. The conductor, about to ring
the bell, suddenly observes the hug*
figure at the end.
It Disappears.
"’Ere you!" he cries. "You wanted
Young’s Corner!”
The snake-charmer turns hastily
and stumbles down the car. Sudden
ly he stops and feels tentatively
about the upper part of his body.
"'Arf a moment!” he exclaim*
anxiously. "Wot’s become o’ Teddy?”
The new passengers glance up with
mild interest. The pair at the end
rise expeditiously and peer about
them in apprehension. The snake-
charmer has gone to the seat lately
vacated by him—now occupied by a
respectable old lady of sedate aspect.
“Excuse me, mum ” he apepals.
The lady, evidently rather hard of
hearing, looks around her inquiring
ly. The snake-charmer raises hh?
voice.
“It’s my snake,” he explains. "I
think you must be sittin’ on ’lm.”
With a blood-curdling shriek, the
lady shoots from the seat like a stone
from a catapult. The new passen
gers rise in panic, and convulsively
shake skirts or trousers.
“You ain’t got your snake,”
grumbles the conductor from the step.
Think we’re goin’ to wait about all—■
Why. what’s that?”
All eyes follow the conductor’s An
ger, pointing toward the snake-
charmer’s feet. From one of the leg-s
of Ms trousers a flat, evil head ha^
em rged, and, curling upward, is
darting a forked tongue into space.
With a proud smile, he stoops and,
drawing forth his r»Pt, replaces it .a
the breast of his shirt and steps out
into the road.
The conductor tugs the bell impa
tiently, and we move on.
The passengers resume their seats,
then crane their neck* to watch )
dwindling figure stationary in ih?
road behind. A genial hail is wafted
faintly toward us.
“Teddy, I call ’im. Sleeps with me
at night!”
Extra Modest.
“George, there’s a burglar in the
house.”
“Well, keep still. We’ve got noth
ing he’ll steal.”
“I know. But I left my corsets over
the back of a chair, and I wouldn’t
have him see them for the world.”
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joyed. The “Faithful” roasts, bakes, stews, boils
or fries. To use* it no experience is necessary. You
follow the “Faithful” Cook Book and you realize
the joy of having meals cooked in the perfect way
with the perfect Fireless Cooker.
Complete—Perfect
The illustration shows the “Faith
ful” complete—cabinet of sheet steel
finished in oak, 8-quart aluminum
kettle and lid, two 4-quart alumi
num kettles, 2 pie racks, 3-quart
pudding pan, four heat radiators of
best soapstone, pair of tongs for
handling radiators. The “Faithful**
is a necessity in your home Once
cook with it and you would as soon
be without it as without your
kitchen.
The 44 faithful” represents the
marvel of Fireless Cooking brought
to perfection. The “Faithful*' is
approved by Good Housekeeping
Institute.
Western Merchandise & Supply Co.
326 West Madison St., Chicago, Illinois
FREE! — Send Now
Send now for our special trial
offer of the * * Faithful” -—free. We
want you to try the 4t Faithful,”
to realize what a wonderful thing
perfect Fireless Cooking is. Clip
coupon now.
—- “Faithful”Coupon —-
Western Merchandise A Supply Co.,
826 W. Madison St., Chicago:
Pleoee send me, without obligation,
vour special trial offer of the “Faithful”
Kireieae Cooker with complete descrip
tion.
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