Newspaper Page Text
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4
"MT
Their Married Life
By MABEL HERBERT URNER
F ROM the top of the steep flight of
steps Helen looked down Into
the dingy, dimly lit basement
known as the “Chat Nolr*’—the fa
mous “Black (’at."
"Not a very cheerful looking Joint,"
commented Warren.
"Dear, do you suppose lt*s safe?"
she said nervously. “Baedeker says
some of these places are regular dens
of thieves and outlaws.**
“Rot!" Warren started down the
steps. "Come on.”
Inside was a long room with low
wooden rafters, a sawdusted floor,
rough, hare tables and benches, over
an old brick fireplace sat a huge blaCK
cat, whose yellow glass eyes were lit
up by a lamp or candle.
Around the wall ran a shelf on
which was a curious collection of cats,
all of them black. As the only lights
In the place shone through the bulg
ing eyes of these animals, the Effect
was most Weird.
At one of the tables, three long
haired, velvet-jacketed men were sip
ping beer. To Helena amazement
and embarrassment they rose aa she
entered, bowed, waved their glasses
toward her and called out:
"Voila la petite dame en blanc—
and Bohemians of Montmartre was
What They Meant.
"Whaf do they mean?" whispered
Helen, drawing closer to Warren.
"YoUr dress is white, and they're
calling out a welcome to the woman
in white.* But it's all a part of the
fake. Those guys are hired to pose as
Bohemians to g eet the people and
give the place atmosphere. ’
Helen remembered that her gruldu
book said that at the Black Cat the
cabaret had originated, hut that how
this once favored resort of the artists
and Bohemians of Monrr.nrtre was
frequented only by signtseers.
Warren was right. These velvet-
coated men were evidently hired to
fake the former spirit and atmosphere
of the place.
An attendant now appeared an 1
suggestively wiped off the table be
fore them. Warren ordered some
beer, which seemed to be the drink
there
FTotn somewhere came a shrill tin
kle of a bell, and a white curtain was
dropped before a miniature stage In
a recess of the wall. One of the
long-haired youths, a stick In his
hand, a slouch hat on his flowing
locks, now arose and began to sing.
He stood by the toy stage, which re
minded Helen of the Punch and Judy
theaters of her childhood.
With the second verse of the rol
licking French song, the black shad
ows of tiny marionettes were thrown
on the small curtain.
“If this is a real shadow play, It's
good fun," exclaimed Warren, leaning
forward with Interest.
The small figures were cleverly ma
nipulated, and their black shadows
danced across the white sheet In
comlcai pantomime. When they
finally flashed off the tiny stage dark-(
ened and everybody applauded
“Wall, let’s move on." suggest© 1
Warren. “We've seen about all that's
to be seen here.
Rather Late.
“Where ere we going now?" asked
Helen, eagerly, for they were '‘doing
Montmartre" to-night.
“Might a s well take In the Rat
Mon next. But that'll probably he a
fake too. We're twenty years too
late- none of these Joints are what
they used to he.”
It had been drizsllng when tiny
came in. and now It was raining
hard. Helen drew her white skirls
; b s as they climbed the steep, wet
g+eps co the street.
As there was no cab in sight, they
had no choice but to walk, and Helen
trudged along, holding her skirts with
one hand and with the other clinging
to Warren's arm.
There was something welrdlv•fasci
nating in wandering through these
dark, narrow streets on a rainy night.
The small, dimly lit shops and black
alleyways had an air of sinister mys
tery.
Farther on. the “Rat Mort” shone
out a< the only one brightly lit spot
In this dingy neighborhood. But
when they reached the place, they
found none of the life and gayety the
lights had led them to expert
It Was a regular restaurant, with
a space cleared for dancing. But
there were only ft few people there,
and the waiters were standing idly
around. The fainy night had dis
couraged the sightseers.
“This Is too dead for tts," and
Wairen shook his head at the waiter
who ran forward to seat them
“Come on, let’s do some exploring
I’ve a hunch that we’ll And some
thing around here yet worth seeing."
As they went out Warren hailed a
passing cab, bundled Helen Into it
and told the man to drive around
Mont mart re.
Streets Deserted.
Through the rain-blurred cab win
dows the streets looked black and
deserted. At length a group of flash
ing lights shone out In the darkness
ahead, and Warren called to the man
to draw up
“You wait here while I investigate,”
and leaving Helen In the cab. War
ren disappeared through the glitter
ing doorway, over which flashed
“Cafe Royal" in green and red letters
In a few' minutes he came out.
“We'll take a chance on that. Some
thing’s doing in there, all right."
Even from the sidewalk Helen could
hear the music and shrieks of laugh
ter. Inside the scene was bewilder
ing.
The long, crowded room was ablaze
with lights. Dancing girls Is short
ballet skirts were whisking about in
the small space for dancing The
tables were arranged along the walls,
as at Maxim’s, but here the noire and
hilarity were unlike anything they
had seen.
The diners were throwing confetti,
singing, cheering, and the air was
thick with smoke and heavy with the
odor of champagne. There seemed
not a vacant place, but at fat. red-
faced Frenchman In tight-fltting
evening clothes, evidently the pro
prietor, found them two seals near
the orchestra.
“Will we have to order cham
pagne?" demurred Helen, who strong
ly objected to paying a high price for
a wine that she really dMiked.
“That’s all right here. They're giv
ing you something for your money.
Pretty gay, eh?” as a girl In a red
spangled skirt frisked by, her skirts
►ft itlff and slmrt Chat thgy brushed
h match-safe from their table.
Felt Nervous.
The man who was sitting next to
Helen had his arm around the pretty
French girl with him. Another girl
had fled her pink chiffon hat with Its
velvet streamers on the head of her
black - mustached escort,
Helen wan not sure that she want
ed to stay. Hhe felt Just a little ner
vous. the gayety was a bit too loud
and too hilarious. But Warren was
enjoying it hugely.
At a high desk In the comer sat a
stout. Frenchwoman, probably the
wife of the proprietor. It was she
who checked off the bottle* of cham
pagne as they were carried out. made
change for the waiters and kept a
general shrewd surveillance over
everything.
Plainly It was her policy to keep
up the gayety, for the greater the
gayety the more frequent the orders
for wine. And now, when for a mo
ment the merriment flagged, she
beckoned one of the dancing girls
and gave her a large paper filled with
colored balls.
With a shout, the girls tossed the
halls among the guests. Then fol
lowed a fast volley of Are back and
forth. The gay little balls, about the
si/e of a walnut, were light enough
to be thrown freely without harm
“Why. I believe that girl’s trying
to swat me,” grinned Warren, as he
dodged the third ball thrown direct
ly at him by a pretty girl sitting
with a French officer across the room
“Watch me give her one," but he
succeeded only in hitting the bald
head of a passing waiter.
The girl threw another which War
ren caught and tossed hack with
better aim. For the next few mo
ments they pelted each other until
the halls were all broken. Helen
could not help thinking It rather un
dignified. Warren did not often un
bend like thts. but perhaps it was
the spirit of the place.
When this diversion had died out.
the Ingenious madnme produced a
bag of toy balloons and later another
of confetti.
“They know how to make the thing
pay here,” declared Warren. “But
that’s nil right, they’re working hard
to give the people what they think
they want.'*
In the next lull the orchestra rose
and marched gavly, In single file,
around the room. The cellist held
hfs Instrument over his head, and
twanged on It like a banjo, while a
violinist carried the base violin, beat
ing it as a drum.
After them pranced the dnncfng
girls, the first one clutching the coat-
tail of the last musician, and the
other girls swinging on to each oth
ers short, fluffy skirts.
The girls stamped and kicked and
swished their saucy spangled skirts
against the tables as they passed.
This frisky procession was greeted
with wild clapping and shrieks of
laughter.
Getting Boisterous.
“Dear, I don’t think I like this,"
demurred Helen. “It’s getting too
boisterous."
“Huh, and you’ve been crazy to
see this sort of thing! That’s like
a woman. But all right, come on—
guess I’ve had enough. Too blamed
much noise and smoke."
Outside it was still raining, but
the damp air was cool and fresh.
"That place was all right," mused
Warren. "Of course most of that
hullabaloo was forced—those dancing
girls were paid to keep it up. But 1
that came nearest to being the real |
thing of anything we’ve struck yet."
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Up-to-Date Jokes
S HE*!
.ok
On one occasion when a certain
Parliamentary candidate, known as a
clever .speaker and very effective In
dealing with a hostile audlnce, was ad
dressing a meeting In his constitu
ency. he had no sooner risen and said,
"Gentlemen," than someone threw an
egg at him. Quite unperturbed, he
turned to the offender and said:
“I was not speaking to you. sir."
“Well, did you discover anything In
Stump's i»ast life that we can use
against him'.'"
Detective -Not a thing. All he ever
did before he came here was to sell
awnings.
Election Agent—Why. that’s Just
what we want. We’ll say that he
has been mixed up In some decidedly
shady transactions.
The ferry boat was well on her wav
when a violent storm arose, and fears
were entertained for her safety.
The ferryman and his mate (both
Highlanders) held a consultation, and
after a short debate, the ferryman
turned to his passengers and re
marked anxiously:
“We’ll Just tak’ yer tuppences now.
for we dlnna ken what micht come
ower us."
“What’s the matter, old chap? You
look as If vou hadn’t had a wink of
sleep all night."
“1 haven’t. You see, my wife
threatened never to speak to me again
if I didn't < ome home last night be
fore 10 o’clock, and I didn’t.”
’ I see; you're finding out the lone-
s omen ess of solitude because she kept
her word, eh?”
Not by a Jugful. I wish she had."
A commercial traveler tells of seetng
a certain cemetery the epitaph. “Sa
cred to the memory of James Perkins,
for thirty years senior partner of the
firm of Perkins # Parker, now Parker
ik Co., whp hope to merit a continuance
I of your patronage ”
HE’S engaged and she has a good-
king cousin.
When she meets the good-look
ing cousin he kisses her. and when he
leaves her he kisses her again. The
fiance says the cousin has got to stop
kissing his sweetheart or there will be
trouble, and now the sweetheart writes
me a letter to know what to do about It.
*'I like my cousin, and I don’t want to
hurt his feelings.” says the girl who
gets kissed; “but I love my sweetheart
and don't want to make him really an
gry. Still. I don’t think he ought to be
so bossy, do you--and isn't It all right
for cousins to kiss? We have always
done it in our family.”
Well, now. llttla girl, Just because
you have always done a thing In your
family' Is no reason at all why it Is the
right thing to do. Is It?
Why Not?
And then your sweetheart doesn’t be
long to your family—and never will—
you will belong to his family, and per
haps they don't kiss—in that circle—
not cousins, anyhow and so y'ou’ll have
to think It over and do what sweet
heart wanta you to do about the kiss
ing
Why not?
What is there so entrancing about
kissing that cousin that you even hes
itate a minute about turning your cheek
the other way when you see him com
ing"
Silly—your sweethearts idea about
it?
Well maybe and maybe not; but any
how, it Is his idea, and why shouldn’t
you please him In the matter?
What if he likes blue and you keep
on wearing pink—what if he likes chick
en and you insist on ordering veal
What if he likes poetry and you want
him to read the millinery “ads”—do
you thifik these things will tend to make
him that much fonder of you ?
Why not give up to him in this mat
ter -it is, after all, unimportant to you
and important to him—what’s the use
of making a fuss about it?
I know a woman and a man who di
vorced eaqh other because the man
played the guitar and the wife wouldn’t
play his accompaniments on the piano.
It didn’t end with that, but it’s how
the whole trouble began What a goose
that woman was not to play any old
accompaniment her husband thought he
wanted’ What hurt could it have done
her or any one else?
What’s the difference, anyhow? If
you love the man you want to please
him, don’t you? Well, a w?se woman
told me once that the way to pleas© a
man was to give up to him in all the
little things that don’t count and hang
on to your own way in all ’ the big
things that do count—he’ll be willing to
give up to you in them. Men don’t
mind big sacri/ices. A man will give
you $100 and quarrel over 10 cents too
much on the grocery bill. That’s the
way men are made.
Why not make up your mind to take
them as they are and not as you think
they should be. and then, honestly, now,
hasn't Sweetheart a pretty cousin some
where?
If he has, Just get her to come and
see you, and every time Sweetheart
kisses pretty cousin see how you feel
about it That may help you to under
stand Sweetheart’s attitude a little bet
ter.
Out of Fashion.
Remember, you are used to cousin—
you see In him Just good old Dick, who
taught you to skate and to swim—when
he feit like it and you promised to make
him enough fudge to pay for lessons;
and he sees him as a gay deceiver.
Maybe he is one. too, even if he is your
cousin.
And besides, little girl, kissing Is out
of fashion except among real sweet
hearts; didn’t you know that? Ten
years ago every time you had tea with
a friend she kissed you when you came
and kissed you when you went. The
woman who tries to kiss a friend now
except in really solemn times Is looked
upon as just the least little bit in bad
form. Didn’t you know thaf?
Hand holding has gone out, too, and
waist spanning. Girls don’t paw each
other the way they used to. And cous
ins—well. cotisins aren’t nearly so much
relation to each other as they were
w'hen they were all liable to be brought
up under the same roof. Keep cousin
at a distance, little girl, to please your
self as well as your Sweetheart. It
can’t do any harm and it may do a whole
lot of good.
rpy j j '"T'T TXT'VTT? T greatest story of its
1 till, 1 U iN IN JtLL, KIND SINCE JULES VERNE
fWrnTB the Omui Reraharg KpHermaa*—
#>*rrr*n »em1no Copyrighted, 1918. by S-
Pitcher Vtrlaf Berlin. Kafliah tranaladoo an4
eompilaCoD by
YT
(Copyrighted, 1918, by International Newa Service.)'
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
The financier almost eagerly took a
seat, and, as he was composing him
self, he reflected that this was the
first time Allan had ever addressed
him without the prefix of “Mr." He
had always longed for that familiar
ity, but he found no comfort in it
now. His cigar, less than half burned,
was out; but he threw' it away and lit
another. Allan watched him in si
lence, and Wolf wished that the light
ing of the cigar might consume an
hour. At last he threw the match
away and leaned back.
“I’m terribly distressed about Ran
som” he said, In tones that he strive
to make grave and pitying “He was
an extraordinarily bright man. He
would have been Invaluable to us In a
few years, Mr. Allan."
Allan nodded grimly.
“He certainly was bright,** he con
ceded acidly. “One of the brightest
young men that ever handled books,
by all accounts. As to his probable
future value, there is a field for a
wide difference of opinion."
“Why, what do you mean?" asked
Wolf, with a well-feigned stare of
surprise. "Is anything wrong?”
Allan laughed; but the sound of it
did not move his visitor to Join In.
“If there is anything wrong with
Hanson’s accounts.” declared Wolf,
sitting up proudly, “I will assume full
responsibility, as I wired you."
The Charge.
Allan leaned forward, his lips set
In a thin line.
"Let’s leave Hanson out of It,
Wolf," he said, grimly. “Ranson is
dead—his chapter Is closed. I didn t
call you back to talk about Ranson,
but about Ranson's bookkeeping."
“Well, what of It?" The other at
tempted to bluster.
“Just this much—you have embez
zled something like $10,000,000!”
Wolf knew that he should spring
up at this point in Indignant denials,
but Allan’s eyes—cold, hard and men
acing—held him. He moistened his
lipa
“You must be crazy, Mr. Allan!" he
gasped.
Allan looked him over swowly,
from head to foot.
“Is that all you have to say be
fore I call a policeman?"
Wolf swallowed hard, but at last
managed to find some pemblance of
his natural voice.
“Why, Mr. Allan, you must be out
of your mind!" he cried. “You have
had someone going over my books In
my absence? You have, eh? Well,
you might know' that no mere ac
countant could understand these
transactions. I know perfectly well
that our cash shows a shortage of
som© millions just at this time. That
has happened once or twice before
when I have been on the wrong side
of the market!”
“Oh! It has?”
"Why, certainly!" returned Wolf,
w ith some return of confidence a* he
felt his voice swelling out. “You
know what my transactions are—
what my business for the syndicate
is. As I telegraphed you—you could
understand—I have not been lucky
this time—pretty near the first time,
too. I sold cotton too early, on the
advice of that fool Harding In Liver
pool. I fired him. Then T held on to
tin too long. I don’t often get tw*o
facers like that in a row, and I’m sor
ry—but I’ll have it all cleaned up and
a healthy balance showing by the
first of the year." *
“I hope w f e will," said Allan, grimly.
“I am sure w'e will,** declared Wolf.
“I said ‘we,* not ‘you,* ** Allan cor
rected him, with Icy precision.
Wolf gulped and chewed his cigar.
“I don’t think you ought to take it
this way, Mr. Allan," he pleaded, un
steadily. “I have made millions for
the syndicate, and it isn’t fair to talk
about embezzling when I make a mis
take. I knew you needed money, and
I was desperate to get it, and it led
to making mistakes that I couldn’t—"
“That’s enough. Wolf,” interrupted
the chief, half raising his hand. “You
know' perfectly well that the syndi
cate will hack you up without a word
In any losses you Incur when you are
handling the syndicate's money for
the syndicate's profit to the best of
your ability. In this case you were
not doing that.”
“Rut. Mr. Allan, that isn’t true!"
cried Wolf, desnerately. “I have al
ways worked for the Syndicate in
everything that ”
“Drop It, Wolf," snapped Allan.
“I’m tired of listening to these lies.
You aren’t even man enough to own
up. You have been speculating on
your own account with the Syndi
cate’s money. You have deposited
these sums, aggregating something
like $10,000,000—and we don’t know'
yet how much more—in European
banks In the name of Wo If son—not
the Tunnel Syndicate. You have been
gambling with money that we need—
cash that we need badly, and you've
lost It. You’re a plain crook—and if
you’re alive by this time to-morrow,
you'll be arrested. Now*—get out!”
At these w'ords Wolf’s returning
confidence dropped from him like a
mask. He got unsteadily to his feet.
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"What?” he gasped. "Me—arrest
ed !"
"I hope not,” replied Allan, with
sinister meaning. It was a sentence
of death—and so Wolf understood it.
But he saw one ray of hope and
grasped at it.
"But you can’t mean that! na
pleaded, desperatelv. “Think of all
the work that I have done and that
remains for me to do for the Syndi
cate. Why, I’ve made millions for
you and **
“That was your duty, cut in Al
lan, mercilessly. “You were paid well
for that.”
“Certainly! certainly!" agree:!
Wolf, with pitiful eagerness “But
this—this last—doesn’t amount to
very much, Mr. Allan. It can he
fixed up in a few months—and I am
the only man who can do it."
There was no softening in Allan’s
grim face and Wolf played his trump.
“All right!” he cried, “have me ar
rested—have me tried! I’ll go down
—but the Syndicate will go down
with me!"
Now, Allan knew that this was the
mere truth. In Its present shaky
financial condition, the Syndicate
could not stand a blow like the ar
rest, or even the suicide, of Wolf,
Ranson’s sudden death had been made
to appear an accident—publicly at
least. But, privately, It was believed
to be a suicide In Just the quarters
w’here such belief could work the
most harm.
If Wolf’s death or arrest—and on
such a charge—came on top of the
Ranson incident, nothing could save
the Syndicate from a crash and a
money panic would follow such a9
the world had never seen before.
But Allan was human and he w r as
swayed by human weaknesses at
times Being a strong man, he was a
strong hater.
He hated Wolf in the first place
just because he w r as Wolf. Now he
hated him doubly because he was a
pitiful coward. If it had been pos
sible he would have escaped under
the cover of the death of his tojl,
Ranson. And now he was making a
errovellng plea for mercy. Allan
thought that Wolf ought to kill him
self out of respect for mankind, but
this was not the time for him to do
it. He would simply scare him to the
limit and let him off until there was a
safer time to crush him.
“The Syndicate is my business,” he
said.
“But you can’t want to drive me to
death!” gasped Wolf, hoarsely. “You
don’t mean that, Allan. I’ll make
restitution inside of three weeks. I
will—as sure as I’m alive I’ll "
“That’ll do. Wolf. I’ve said my last
word. Get out!”
Wolf staggered into his car and
told the chauffeur to drive him to his
apartment on Riverside Drive. He
was still in a sort of trance when he
arrived there. He took three or four
drinks of brandy. The thought of
food almost nauseated him. He paped
up and down his rooms, chewing unlit
cigars, and every time he passed the
buffet he grasped a bottle at random
and poured himself a drink. He did
not know what It was he was drink
ing, and none of it had any effect.
Once, when he went to the front
windows, he noticed that a car was
standing across the way from his
own. The chauffeur was tinkering
with the engine. It must have been
a pretty bad breakdown, for the car
remained all the time he was in his
apartment.
Finally he went downstairs and or
dered himself driven to his club. The
chauffeur across the street seemed
to have repaired the damages at last,
for he started off after Wolf’s car.
Wolf saw him and understood. De
tectives were watching him.
A man named De Maupassant once
wrote a story in which he told of a
coward who wrestled with himself
all night before he was to fight a duel
and finally committed suicide to avoid
it. Wolf was a’cow’ard. and. If you
have ever read this story, you will
understand what w’as passing in his
mind.
The worst that could overtake him
would be arrest, liberation on ball, a
trial on a highly technical charge
wfith plenty of room for clever de
fense. To the average man In these
circumstances the thought of suicide
would be almost humorous.
Winnings.
But to Wolf anything seemed pref
erable to arrest. It w*as not the dis
grace or the ordeal of trial and pos
sible conviction that daunted him.
He thought of none of these things.
His disordered mind simply shrank
from the picture of a detective laying
his hand on his shoulder.
His distraught manner attracted
some attention at the club, but he
went into the gambling room and
gambled for big stakes, laughing
loudly and drinking much, for his
luck w'as phenomenal. He played all
night, his luck shifting somewhat,
but when morning came and he finally
withdrew', he had more than $20,000
in checks in his pocket and a few
hundred in cash of his own.
When he went out into the street
after a cup of coffee, he was con
scious that a man reading a news
paper on thfi curb glanced at him out
of the corner of his eye and walkeu
slowlv down after him, ostentatiouah
studying the numbers of the houses
as if looking for an address. In a feu
minutes he lost sight of him, but h»
knew that this man and others were
watching him.
When he reached his apartment h»
was so tired physically that his mind
became truly active at last, after 24
hours of numbness. He began to
think clearly, or wha’t he thought was
clearly. Then a perfectly simple and
smooth plan presented itself to him.
He would go away!
He knew, of course, that any at
tempt to draw mtmey at his own
bank would only precipitate what he
dreaded. But he 'had his gambling
winning.^ in his pocket. He telephoned
to a broker, told nim a perfectly
plausibel lie and had him send up
$20,000 In rath for the check*. While
the money was on the way he bathed
and dressed.
His Idea was t* go out openly,
spend the entire dHy In shaking off
detectives, slip int«» the subway, go
north to the terminus and strike
cro««8-country to a small railroad sta
tion and board a Canadian train thera
For an hour he ducked and dodged
and doubled in the maelstrom, and
when he was certain that h# had
shaken off his pursuers, he made for
Central Park as a final teet. H*
roamed the park for an hour and eaw
no sign of a detective. Then he called
a cab and went to a barber shop,
where he had # his hair cut ahort and
his mustache removed.
The Disguise.
There was a little clothing store a
few doors down from the barber shop
—over on the East Side. Here he
bought a new outfit of cheap clothes,
which he donned at once.
It was dark now and he went forth
confident that he was safe. He found
a cab at Twenty-eighth street and
drove to the address near the subway
station at Worth street, which he fig
ured would be llttLe used on the up
town side at that hour.
He was right. When he walked
through the gate onto the platform,
there was no one in sight, but a few
moments later a man came througn
the gate. He opened a newspaper and
glanced at it, paying no attention tj
Wolf. The latter was so certain that
he had eluded pursuit that he gave
the stranger no more than a passing
glance—but that was enough. He
recognized him, with a start, as a
man who had played poker with him
on the way over from Europe!
For an instant Wolf almost sw r aye 1
on his feet under the shock. Then It
flashed through his mind that his dis
guise must be perfect, as this man
did not recognize him. But that
thought had barely come to comfort
him when it was driven away by an
other. suppose this man was one >f
Allan’s detectives, watching him on
his way home!
He timidly eyed him again, but he
could not see his face. It was con
cealed behind the newsnaper. There
was a rumble of an approaching train
as Wolf walked slowly past for r»
closer scrutiny. Then he saw that the
paper had a little slit or tear up the
middle, through which the stranger
could watch him when he pleased!
The train roared into the station
and Wolf, with a sudden yell of de
spair, turned and cast himself under
the wheels Just as the detective
leaped for him.
The Panio.
I T was five minutes after 7 Kclock
when Wolf t is '’-round to pieces
under the wheels of the subway
train. At ten past 7 Allan knew what
had happened. At a quarter past he
was in conference with the head of
the publicity department, and the
provisional head of finance, while his
secretary wa^ getting the directs *«
on the telephone for a special meeting
at 9 o’clock.
To Be Continued To-morrow.
FRECKLES
Don't Hide Thom With • Voftj Re
move Them With the 0thine
Preecrlptloo.
This prescription for the removal
of freckles woe written by a prom
inent physician and Is usually so
successful In removing freckles and
giving a clear, beautiful complexion
that It is sold by Jacobs' Pharmacy
under an absolute guarantee to re
fund the money If It falls.
Don’t hide your freckles under a
veil; get an ounce of othine and re
move them. Even the first few ap
plications should show a wonderful
improvement, some of the lighter
freckles vanishing entirely.
Be sure to ask the druggist far
the double strength othine; It is this
that is sold on the money-back guar
antee.
Preserve Your Charms
Don’t Let Your Hair Grow Gray
B EAtJTIFTJLi hair makes a
beautiful woman, and faded
or gray hair la an indica
tion of old age Irrespective
of years.
If your hair la faded and
turning gray, restore it to
Its original color and youth
ful beauty with
Robinnaire
Hair Dye
It is not a common dye
to bleach or change
the natural color of the
hair It lb scientific and stltcesafu» eoior restorer and will bring badk
the original color to faded or gray hair, and make It luatroua and bean-
tfful again. Quickly and easily applied, and aa It does not ataln th*
scalp nor make hair sticky, no one can detect it. For a quarter oenturv
•housatida of women, and men, too. have been ueing It with beet remits
Prepared for light, medium and dark brown and black hair, and for
'Ale at druggists and toilet goods department*; 75c. If you can not pro
cure It, sent by parcel post, 83c.
Send us the name and address of your druggie: with your order an*
we will send you FREE samples of the world-renowned Robinnaire
c *ce Powder and Cold Cream of Rosea.
Jacobs* Pharmacy Co.
Atlanta, Ga.