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e ® Society Consifs of Ca!^e and Late I lours, and Doing One f s 7 hinging Next Day With a Piece of Leather £ ©
4
MAGAZINE
AT BAY a Thrilling Story of Society Blackmailers
You Can Begin This
Great Story To-day
by Reading This
First
Aline Graham, the beautiful daugli-
. of U. S. District Attorney Gordon
Graham, is beloved by Captain Law
rence Hoibrook. a soldier of fortune, free
a nee and all-round good fellow. Aline
loves him, but, because of some secret
n her past, she* refuses to marry him.
While Holbrook is at her house sIt# re-
►*iv»‘s a telephone message from Judson
Flagg, a lawyer and notorious black
mailer of society. Holbrook begs Aline
to tell him her secret. She refuses and
makes him leave her. The message
from Flagg has made her frantic, and
she finally decides to go to his house.
Ji; the meantime the reader is given a
glimpse into Flagg’s den. The lawyer
fa closeted with his nephew, Tommy,
the only human being for whom he ap
pears to bear any affection. Congress
man Rowland’s butler, Jones, calls and
df 11s Flagg a letter compromising Mrs.
Rowland. As the butler starts to leave,
Flagg presses a button and takes a se-
•ret flashlight of the man. He rushes
from the house in terror. Aline slips
sway from her home unobserved and
•caches Flagg's home. She finds the
front door open and goes to his study.
Flagg produces a letter written by Aline
in Woolworth. the man she supposed
she had married two years before. He
r°ads it to her. enjoying her mental tor
ture as she hears the telltale lines. In
the first part of the letter Aline had beg
ged Woolworth not to desert her. “Do
you remember that?” asks Flagg with
a sneer. Aline collapses. Flagg tells
her he must have $1,000 for the letter.
Aline offers him all the money she has,
and an emerald that belonged to her
mother. Flagg refuses both. He then
rnsults her by making love to her.
ALINE STARS MLR TORMENTOR.
parley with this man. Perhaps we
can defeat him and go in safety.”
“No. I must keep the letter,” cried
the girl in desperate determination.
She doubled around the table like
the hunted thing she must become.
If only she could draw him for one
second from his guardianship of that
door and then, winged by her fear,
Now Read On
imi
(Novelized by)
(From the play by George Scar
borough. now being presented at the
Thirty-ninth Street Theater. New York.
Serial rights held and copyrighted by
International News Service.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
“I mean there’s a way to get it.”
The leering face leaned closer across
the desk. A new expression was com
ing into the crafty eye; it was un
masked passion; it was new horror
to pile upon the mountain high
horrors of memory and fact; it was
leering suggestion to drive Aline mad
with the fear and horror of her posi
tion in the web of the spider.
And she would not escape un
scathed.
“You are very pretty, my dear,"
went on the thing of poison breath j
and foul mind. “ * * * And
mock marriages are the real thing!"
The girl winced. Her helpless j
weight was falling on her hands that j
. ay white knuckled on the desk, her \
shoulders were bowed beneath the
weight of degradation—the shame of
being spoken to so by any man—but
most shameful of all to become the
creature desired by this venomous
spider creature. And still he went
on with his offer of horrible com
promise—the price of a pink letter—
written when sorrow had been only
a cloud on her sky—written to men
ace her life with each line her pen
had traced in forming the words on
the pink schoolgirl sheets.
“You—you’re a young person of ex
perience—we could be friends!”
“You’re mistaken,” said Aline,
coldly. She spoke with a breath
less horror. So a man like Jud-
son Flagg dared to think and feel
—these things about the daugh
ter of Gordon Graham—about the
woman Larry Holbrook loved—about
her—no, It was none of these he knew
—his insult was for the girl who had
—trusted Tom Woolworth.
‘‘No—I’m not. You and Woolworth
had three days together by the sea—
we’d have a hundred—strung through
the year.”
‘‘There’s your money—I’m going,"
fcaid the giri.
Flagg interposed: ‘‘Oh, no; you’re
not!”
The girl looked around her wildly.
She felt trapped. She knew how mad
she h?„.i been to venture so far from
love and shelter. A force within had
impelled her, but now she was facing
horror more horrible than the burn
ing memory of those three days by
ihe sea. At the sacrifice of all she
had come to gain she knew she must
so. now, at once, while there was yet
time.
But from the wild moment when
she had ventured alone into the web
°f the master spider—it had been too
l a te. Life held hours of which she
mercifully could not dream—and for
Aline Graham life could never again
he the same. For every wild moment
of those three days by a summer sea
-for every mad second of those min
utes In Judson Flagg’s den—the girl
would pay, and pay full well.
“You must stop me,” she cried.
Flagg had come between her and
the door, and darker than the dark
TFE. Pa sed to Ma, I hare got
\X/ a rare treet for you A lit tel
* * Bobble. I doant know about
the** fare treet* of yurei, sed Ma. I
havent forgotten that county fair
that you took us to. the time you tried
to drink up all the hard cider In the
grounds
This 1* going to be dlffernt. s*d Pa
Thl* la going to be a good old Ger
man picnic, the kind that we used to
go to wen you A I was yung boys A
gurls together, Pa §ed. Let u* go A
think of them happy day* that 1* gone
beeyond reecall, *ed Pa.
I will go If llttel Bobble A, you
want to go. sed Ma, but I newer had
a vary good time at a German picnic.
I Th&re Is always a band A thare Is
always beer, but as I don't like brass
muslck or lager I cant see whare the
fun will cum In But I will go
So we all went to the German pic
nic. It was at a llttel plal* called Ol
denburg A thare was a lot of peepul
plcknlcking.
Ah sed Pa, here Is my old frend
Fritz Schultz. Cum rite here. Fritz.
Wife, sed Pa, allow me to present
my old frend Fritz Rchaltz.
How do you do. Mister Schultz? sed
i Ma.
Mister Schultz was awful fat. He
must have wayed three hundred
pounds.
I do all rite, he sed. aber tonight I
am sad. This afternoon it rained a
little, und the picnic almost spoiled.
The wether is luvly now, tho, sed
Ma. I am sure w r e are going to en
joy the evening
Always when It rains then I am
sad. sed Mister Schultz. I know It Is
, going to rain tomorrow, alretty, und
den I will be sad agg$nn. My poor
brother August made hlmaetf hanged
last September, he sed to Ma & Pa.
It was raining just like this after-
noon It rained. August vas suoh a
cholly fellow. Even after we found
him In der barn we saw a smile on
his face Almost could I cry now to
think of August.
Think of July Insted * laff, „. 4 Ma
Life la too short to feel sad and
away. Ma sed. 1, this yure
son?
Yes. It Is llttel August, said Fritz
Schultz. I natmed him after my
brother which Is ded, alretty. He can
Play mlt yure little fellow If y. u vant
him (or
Pa galv me a dime * I took August
over to buy him a drink of lemonade
He was a funny looking llttel Ger
man boy, he wud look rite at me A I
doant think he was thinking about
anything at all,
I bought him sum lemonade but he
dldent like It vary good, he sed to me
Sooner wud I have beer. Not with
me, I aed to him, I am oft the stuff.
That is what I used to hear Pa say.
^ tried to talk to August about the
THE FAMILY CUPBOARD
A Dramatic Story of High Society Life in Dew York
fNovellzed byl
pass
llttel
(From Owen Davis' play now being pre
sented at the Playhouse, New York, by
WiHlarn A. Rrady.—Copyright, 1913, by
International News Service.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT
“Try!” exclaimed Kitty, angrily.
. . Before she could go on In her
arraignment of masculine failure to
' provUIf'' the little deus ex machlna—
the telephone—rang.
“Hello! Who's that?” asked Miss
Claire hopefully.
“The room clerk, I suppose,” was the
heart-weary answer. “Nobody else
wants me. He said I must pay to
day."
The bell rang again
“You can stall him, can’t you? My
God. what’s the good of an educa-
1 tlon!!!!” A
“Hello—yes—-ah—yes! Yes! Rend
! him right up!"
His voice ran the gamut of fear to
bo.vs that he ,<new A. about his skool A eagerness and finished with a note of
about baseball, but he dldent eeven 1 actual Joy as he turned to Kitty and
know who Matty was. He sed thay I said ‘‘It’s Tom Harding “
had a cow nalmed Mattie. He newer
eeven herd of Mister McGraw. All
he sed was Maybe It will rain to-mor
row. alretty, and make me sad.
Why do you get sad wen It rains?
I sed.
J had a unkel, his naim was the
saim as mine, sed August. He made
himself hanged.
Then I took August back to his Pa
& coaxed Pa to take us hoam from
the picnic. Yes, do, sed Ma, you wud
think it was a lc«. of Glooms out for
a time.
— WILLIAM F. KIRK.
F a man comes along whose name introduced to me by the delighted
i Saoketts together with his wife He
| was the Racketts’s relative—and his j
wife was plainly suspicious of me. j
S But the real Mr. Dare bobbed up,
I Is Smith." said the young woman
who was telling the story, "or
Jones, and asks me to marry him, 1
shall accept Instantly and say ‘Thank
you' into the bargain! Listen to the
things that happened to my sister
and myself on our trip West all be
cause name is Mayburn! And be
cause Cousin Charlie's name is Dutton
“We thought it would be a clever
thing to stop In and see the Fisks,
who live in Los Angeles, and have
wasted reants of pamper arid gallons of
Ink imploring us to visit them. So
we telephoned from our hotel in Pasa
dena and asked if we might coine
over Thursday. The sweet - voiced
young person who answered the phone
‘Good!"
The boy almost broke down.
“The first one of them that has come
to see me all this long week! The first
one of my own people.”
“Hurray! The luck has turned, Ken!”
“Yes—he’s a good fellow. Tom al
ways was a good fellow!’’
“I’ll get out. You can do better with
him alone. Don’t be a fool now, Ken.
Nobody has any use for a piker. IT’S
JUST AR EASY TO SAY A THOU
SAND AS A HUNDRED IF YOU HOLD
YOUR MOUTH RIGHT!”
The boy was deeply moved. Affec
tion, home ties, never mean so much as
when they are almost lost.
“Tt—It Isn't the money—I didn’t think
anybody cared. It Isn't the money."
“Of course, it isn’t, dear—it’s the sen
timent,” said Kitty smoothly. Then she
hardened to practical values again—the
thought of money had softened her
voice to a semblance of Its old sweet
ness. “But, Ken. a little of both helps.”
Blowing him a kiss, she let herself
out of a door that led to a side corri
dor. while Ken set the main door wide
us out. slammed our trunk and suit
cases Into the hall and drove off
“Then a cool, composed trained
nurse descended on us. Rhe was per
fect She said Mrs. Dare was out for
a. drive, but would be so glad to see
said Mrs. Fisk was out. but she knew I us, and would we go to our room
he lyould be delighted to see us, and j and have tea sent up
. i v **‘She can't be out,' I told her, me-
thrust us Into a cab, and, between
shaking hands and looking at his and gazed anxiously down the hall,
watch, explained that he was due i waiting for his welcome bearer of home
at a meeting, but that we were to go tidings.
right out to the house, where Mrs At j a8 t he saw Tom rounding the cor-
Dare was eagerly awaiting us.
'“You know where I. live, don’t
you?’ he asked the cabman when we
dropped him at a cori.er. ‘Dares
house? Sur$/ said the cabman—and j man
hurtled along to a perfectly gorgeous i Tom awfully. Jove, this is something
house set in splendid lawns, dumped ! like—not just a friend, but a brother.
You haven’t shaken hands yet, Tom.”
ridor entrance—his eager welocme bub
bled to his lips.
“Tom! This way! How are you, old
I’m awfully glad to see you,
You’re Choking Me!” the Girl Managed to Articulate. Tighter, Tighter Closed the Fingers.
gloom of his own room he leered at
his victim. He blocked the only exit
she dared venture, for who knew to
what abysses of horror—to what
vaults and subterranean passages—to
what Bluebeard chambers of grisly
token the other doors would open her
path? She must pass Flagg.
The man’s voice had lost no tone of
its evil portent—it was quiet, because
the vitality of such vampire crea
tures as Flagg permits of no wild
bursts of passion. For them emotion
must be hoarded—and gloated over in
the still dark, moment by moment.
A line’s terror was very precious to
her Raptor. spoke in the sibilant
accent of a snake’s hiss:
“I’ll keep the letter until you can
come to terms—pay cash for it—or
be friendly r .”
The girl tightened the hold of her
cold fingers on that pink mist of evil
—that cloud that was bringing such
storm about her head. Holding her
sad little letter to Tom. Woolworth,
her faithless lover of six years gone
by—she took one backward step. In
stinct pulled her from Judson Flagg.
Instinct bade her fly while there was
still time for flight. And the girl
whispered to Instinct: “We must
flee* from his handicapped and evil
old age.
Flagg left the door—unguarded.
“Give it to me,”‘ he cried in bitter
anger.
The girl kept up her retreat—fur
ther and further from the menacing
creature—away from the door—that
would be a bulwark of*' safety for
Aline.
Still she retreated.
“No! It’s mine! You have no
right to it! A letter belongs to the
writer! You never had any right to
it.”
To Be Continued To-morrow.
We have moved to our new store,
97 Peachtree Street.
ATLANTA FLORAL CO.
Always Reliable
belief from the ailments caused
oy disordered stomach, torpid
liver, irregular bowels is given
--quickly, safely, and assur
edly—by the tried and reliable
BEECHAM’S
PILLS
•▼o*rvrh«r«. In boss*, 10c. # 25c.
Advice to the Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
I AM AFRAID YOU ARE FOOLISH.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am 17 years of age and know
a young man two years my se
nior.
I have known him for the last
six months and have frequently
been going out to places of
amusement with him. Hearing
from friends and acquaintances
of his that he really loves me. I
would like to test his love myself.
I also do not wish to devote all
my time to one as youth Is still
before me, with many good
chances. 1 consider him equal
to all the gentlemen friends
I have, and not above them. Still
further 1 wish to know if con
tinuing to go out with him would
increase his will power over me.
CONSTANT READ HR
Whv test his love when you admit
that cine lover will not satisfy you?
If he exercises a will power over
you, association with him will cer
tainly nicrease it. If you admit he
has such power, you admit you are in
danger. I think you had better give
him up.
OF COURSE.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am 17, and in love wlth\a
young man two years my senior.
We are both employed in the
same place, and he usually takes
me home and to lunch with him,
and always appeared to like me
very much.
He asks me for one of my sig
net rings, and I gave it to him.
and
CASTOR IA
For Infants and Children.
The Kind You Have Always Bought
Bears the
Signature of
Vi
return he gave me his
ring. About two weeks ago I
came in and he didn’t bother to
say “good morning,” and seem
ed cool toward me all day. Now
he doesn’t even pay attention to
me when I pass his desk. Do you
think I ought to ask him for my
ring? - SORRY.
Get your ring, and never again
make such an exchange unless a
marriage engagement warrants it.
A DEAD LANGUAGE.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
Is there any such thing as
stamp language? If so, will you
tell me just what the different
meanings of it are? R. G.
I am glad to say that few know the
stamp language these days. The time
is past when a man or maid told his
or her love by pasting a postage
stamp upside down.
Don’t try to learn it. my dear. It
is a waste of mental effort and time
Hard at Work.
He was a member of the Peace So
ciety, and he came across two youths
in a back street fighting. Accordingly
he pushed through the crowd and per
suaded the combatants to desist.
“Let me beg of you, my good fellows,
to settle your dispute by arbitration.
Each of you choose half a dozen friends
to arbitrate.”
“Hurrah!” yelled the crowd. “Do as
the gentleman says, boys!”
Having seen the twelve arbitrators
' selected to the satisfaction of both sides,
the man of peace went on his way, re
joicing in the thought of having once
again prevailed upon brute force to yield
to peaceful argument. Half an hour
later he returned that way, and was
horrified to find the whole street fight
ing. while in the distance police whis
tles could be heard blowing and police
were rushing to the spot from ail quar
ters.
“Good gracious! What is the mat
ter now?” asked the peacemaker of an
onlooker.
'^fchure, sorr." was the reply, “the ar-
biv^tors are at work!”
Professor Roland, of Paris, has de
vised an Ingenious method of punish
ment for pupils who are idle, turbu
lent or undisciplined. Instead of mak
ing them remain in to write lines or do
similar tasks, he makes them walk five
miles. They are required to produce
from their parents a certificate that the
walk has been taken. The professor Is
so pleased with the results obtained that
he is recommending his methods to
other schoolmasters.
A New Zealander has arrived in Lon
don who declares that It is impossible
to hang him. He is anxious to demon
strate his immunity from hanging in a
music hall sketch. In New Zealand, he
says, he has given a practical demon
stration of his ability. The Governor
of one of the jails there lent him the
orthodox tackle and he promptly showed
how easy it was to hang on a gallows
without injury.
In connection with the harvest fes
tival service at the parish church of
Whaiton, Northumberland, the time-
honored custom of making and exhibit
ing “The Kern Babby” was observed.
“The Babby” is made of wheat and
dressed in the prevailing fashions and
forms the pivot of the decorations. It
has been made by one family for the
past forty years.
“The superstition that if a child's
finger nails are cut it will grow up
a thief still prevails among Battersea
mothers,” says the medical officer of
health for Battersea.
In some cantons of Switzerland all
the dead, rich a« well as poor, are
buried at the public expense.
At Whitley, Northumberland, a
policeman laid information against him
self for having allowed the chimney of
his house to be on fire. He proved the
ease against, himself successfully, and
the magistrate ordered him to pay half
a crown toward the costs.
“Tommy,” a seagull which visits
Southwold every fishing season. has
been elected an honorary member of
the Southwold Rea Anglers’ Society,
and adopted as the society's crest.
that w* must come in time for lunch
eon. She added that she was Mrs.
Fisk's daugnter-ln-law ; so. of course,
'it was all right.
“‘The Misses Mayburn and Mr. Dut-
i ton,’ we told her.
A MISTAKE.
“Thursday we drove up to the Fisk
house, and daughter-in-law flew out
to the curb and greeted us rapturous
ly, trying in the cordial way of the
West to make us stiaqprs feel en
tirely at home. Greatly^cheered, we
tramped In—and were greeted by an
absolutely strange wjman who was
Just as startled as we were
“‘Isn't there ss-ome mistake?’ I
stuttered. “Isn't this the P. C. Fisk
home?’
“'It is the C. P. Fisk residence,’
quavered the strange woman. "Gene
vieve told me the Misses Mayburn and
Mr. Dutton- and I said it must be the
Misses Duncan and Mr. Maywood—
they’re friends from San Francisco
and she said no, indeed, it was the
other way—and I thought the long
distance connection was poor and she
had misunderstood’.'
“ *We must go at once.’ I said heroi
cally, because 1 could sniff the lunch
eon cooking, and it was evidently a
mighty good luncheon. 'We’ll drive
to the P. C. Fisks How did I ever
make such a mistake!’
“That wasn’t the sum total of our
adventures We went to Vancouver
by boat and made friends with the
Sacketts on board. We were duet to
visit the Dares, and the Sacketts were
going to visit some relatives In
the same locality. As the boat drew
in I thought I saw Mr. Dare on the
wharf, and waved and smiled at him
for five minutes before I found he w r a&
a perfect stranger, who naturally
seemed much interested in me.
“Ten minutes later he was being
had
way
awalt-
chanieally. 'Mr. Da r e said he
phoned her that we were on our
to the house and she was
lng us!’
"The trained nurse wrinkled her
smooth brow and adopted a soothing
tone. ’It's the first time,’ she ex
plained. 'that she has been driving
since the baby came, It is three
weeks old and a darling! I know she
will be so annoyed at the way they
treated your luggage and will have
it attended to! Do let me order tea!’
“‘Stop!’ I said faintly. Sister was
in a state of collapse against an un
feeling bronze. ‘Mr. Dare Is a Joker
-but he wouldn't go as far as that.
Isn’t this the Dare house?’
“‘It is the Darr residence,’ said the
trained nurse.
YKR\ TIRED.
"Then we picked ourselves up
wearily and phoned for a fab and got
hot and cold for fear Mrs. Darr would
return before we got out. and the
trained nurse pathetically insisted on
our having tea anyhow and the
Chinese servants got our luggage
piled on the cab and we drove away.
‘Then the cabman got lost and
once we passed a house where people
were having tea on the veranda, and,
behold. It was the Racketts and the
relative with whom 1 had scandal
ously flirted.
“Don’t bring them here!' called the
relative's wife, who felt humorous,
now that she had her husband safe
‘Don’t bring them here! They tried
to get my husband.'
“While we laughed feebly and hol
lowly. we heard a great commotion
half a block down. A woman lean
ing perilously over a veranda rail
was shrieking 'Bring them here' The
luncheon is stone cold!’ And It was
Mrs. Dare.’’
MAIDEN MEDITATIONS.
-ever smoked one
NO MAN—
cigar, took one drink or kissed a girl
once.
ever was able to do the
sum of his life over twice. He may
add a little or subtract a little, but
yesterday’s reckoning isn’t altered by
to-day's numbers.
ever knew any real Joy in
giving unless it meant the forerun
ner of the joy Jn going without.
ever evoked a miracle un
less he thought he could.
ever yoked himself to a fel
low-creature In evil without coming
to hate his teammate worse than the
deed that bound them together.
ever was quite so accurate
in talking to ignorance as when he
knew that he had an audience that
could judge him.
ever loved twice—alike, for
the gypsy and the saint wake differ
ent beings to life in his heart.
-ever kept on loving a fool
ish woman after she was so foolish
as to try to rul®*bim by insisting that
she was wiser than he.
ever quite forgets gentle
kindness. The hand that aressed
him in childhood will meet with a
kindly grip from him years after
ward.
• can tell the exact opinion
his dog holds of his piaster’s wisdom.
ever walled his life by any
thing but the farthest horizon he
could see or failed to see why a wom
an should confine her world within
the four walls of a home.
* * *
Nobody believed Cassandra—and
prophet of evil ever won half the
listeners that the flatterer who says
“all's serene” can gain.
—LILIAN LAUFFERTY.
Superhonest.
“Sir,” said the office boy to his em
ployer, "as you know very well that
my family is in perfect health, I ask
you to let me off this afternoon to
go to a football match.”
“Young man,” replied the boss,
“you are entirely too honest. I have
my suspicions of you. You are flrod.”
“No, I don't think I will, Kenneth.”
The eager boy drew back In hurt sur
prise—but the scales of his sorrow were
to be heaped fuller and fuller—measure
upon measure. The Joyously welcomed
visit of Tom Harding had just begun!
“I got your letter Kenneth. I did not
mention it to Alice. I was going to
throw It in my waste basket at first.
Then I thought I would come.” *
“1 am In trouble, Tom. An awful
mess! We have^ been friends always
and •”
“I won’t lend you money!”
“Tom, I’ve got to have It!” The boy’s
voice was taking on a note of plead
ing. This was no time, he thought, for
false pride.
“I couldn't if I wanted to—and I
don’t,” said Tom, implacably.
“I want you to lend me five hundred
dollars. It’s nothing to you—It wouldn’t
have been much to me once, but it’s—
it’s—everything—right now.” The boy
tried to keep his voice steady. But this
was his last hope—It meant so much—
he had rejoiced—had built so much on
the fact of Tom’s visit. Kitty had been
so hopeful—and sweet.
“To spend on Kitty Claire!” said Tom.
In deep scorn.
“You!” Ken jumped forward fiercely
—then by a great effort controlled him
self. Necessity is the mother of tact!
“No! No! I’ll swallow that, Tom.
A fellow learns to swallow a lot when
h's down!''
Some Truths.
“THEN GET UP,” said Tom, sternly.
*T will, if you——”
“Hold on! I would give a lot of five
hundreds to see you where you belong—
on your knees before your father. But
I won’t give you five cents to spend on
a woman like this.”
“Don’t, Tom, please—you don’t un
derstand, Kitty May Is ”
“Kenneth, I understand all too well
Just what your Kitty May Is! I under
stand too well what her damnable spell
is making of you! Haven’t I suffered
for the skeleton in your cupboard?
Why, boy, I love your sister—as you
can't understand the word 'love'—yet.
Alice was to have been my wife until,
between you, Kitty Claire and you, you
managed to break up your family and
make Alice so ashamed of her name
that she is even afraid to exchange It
for mine!”
Ken ceased his tone of pleading.
Pride—false pride- same to the rescue,
and, like the foolish young Chevalier
Bayard lie was for a worthless woman’s
sake, he became stern and strong.
There was a fine strain In the boy—if
only a good woman had strengthened
that mere strain to warp and woof and
fiber of fineness and strength.
"That’s enough! I’m groveling to
you, Tom, for money right now—right In
the dirt—or I’d do my best to kill you
for what you have Just said! Miss May
—or Miss Claire, as you choose to call
her—has lived here for five weeks In
the very next apartment as much re
spected by me—I swear to that—as my
sister is by you.”
_^'Ken!” said Tom, deeply moved by
the boy’s innocent, ignorant, hopelessly
misplaced faith.
“Ken, my boy! I don’t know what I
can say to you—it is all so hopeless.
You are like a blind man—I can’t hope
to make you see! 1 WONPFjt WHAT
WILL OPEN YOUR EYES? '
1 “Five hundred dollars. Tom! Give it
to me—then go! I’ll pay It some time—
somehow—every cent!”
“Will you come with me to your
father, Ken? Ken, KEN, WILL YOU
COME TO YOUR FATHER?”
In fear the boy answered—but he lit
tle knew what his prophecy meant.
“You don’t know what you are ask
ing! I couldn’t go to him—and nothing
would ever bring him to me! Nothing
but death!” he added In an awe-struck
undertone.
“Ken! I know this much! Some
thing happened between you here in
this room that day that has made
Charles Nelson an old man! I don’t
know what it was. I don't want to.
But this I do know—he will forgive
you.”
“He couldn’t!” murmured Ken in
nightmare horror of that blow that
haunted him now—waking or sleeping.
“Y'ou’ve got him wrong. Ken, you and
your mother. I know him. Worked
with him for years—fell in love with
his daughter because she was so much
his. I’d thank God for him if I were
his son. I would never say or feel that
this man had done one wrong thing in
his life. I’d say—he's a man—a very
human man—big enough to be for
given—ble enough to know how to for
give! That’s what I came here to tell
you, Kenneth. I wish I dared say It to
your mother—although—taka It from
me—he's better off without either one
of you!”
"Perhaps. I don’t know. Perhaps.
Torn, it all seems wrong—and hopeless,
somehow.”
“He’s been doing a man's work sines
the heavy load of an expensive family
that he carried uncomplainingly all these
years has been taken off his back. Why,
Ken. when I didn’t suspect his money
troubles, although I was his partner,
your mother reproached me for my
ignorance because I was almost h1s son-
i In-law. I had to be rude to a woman,
for I told her she should have known
since she was ‘almost his wMfe.' ”
"It’s all very true, I suppose, Tom —
but what’s the good now? It’s all a bit
too late,” said Ken. with a fixed glaze
coming over his eyes. “You won’t lend
me five hundred—well, what’s the use
of all this?”
“Ken, here is the key f® why T won't
give you what you want. Your father
Is going to make ten times as much
money as the old firm ever made. Fie
is a man who Is bound to succeed when
he Isn’t shamefully handicapped. BUT
AMONG YOU—YOU’VE BROKEN HIS
HEART! THAT’S WHY I HAVE NO
ESPECIAL SYMPATHY FOR YOU—
AND YOUR BUNGLED LIFE! THAT.
AND THE FACT THAT ALICE CAN’T
LEAVE HIM—AND SO WE ARE PAY
ING YOUR DEBT—ALICE AND I! SO
I’VE NO MONEY FOR YOU, KEN,
WHILE THINGS ARE LIKE THIS!”
He turned abruptly and left the room.
Kenneth sank Into a chair—desperate,
his last hope gone, his last home tie
cut—and all for Kitty Claire.
Kitty Claire had kept her word: "I'll
get you, Charlie, If It’s the last thing
I ever do!”
There was a timid knock at the door.
Kenneth remained sunk In despair. An
other knock. Then the door opened
gently—and Mary Burk stepped into the
room.
To Be Continued To-morrow.
SHE
OFTEN
PRAYED
TO DIE
But Friend Comes to Res
cue With Some Sound Ad
vice, Which Was Follow
ed With Gratifying
Results.
Nettleton. Ark.—"My troubles data
back flv© years.” says Mrs, Mary
Bentley, of this town. "I was first
taken with awful pains in my right
side, headache and backache. The
pain from my side seemed to move
down my right limb, and settled In
the right knee. Then it would move
back, and once a month I would al
most die with pain.
“I was told I had tumor, and wou’d
have to undergo an operation at onco.
It Just seemed I could not submit to
Jt. I often prayed to die. It seemed
that nothing would give me the de
sired relief, until finally I was ad
vised by a friend to try Cardui, and
it Is undoubtedly curing me. I have
only used three and a half bottles, and
It Is a pleasure to tell of the beneficial
results.
"I shall ever spread the good tid
ings of what Cardui has done for me,
and will do for other suffering ladles,
Lf they will only try it.”
You can depend on Cardui, because
Cardui is a gentle, harmless, vegetable
tonic, that ran do you nothing bui
good.
Prepared from herbal ingredients*,
Cardui has a specific effect on the
womanly constitution and puts
strength where it is most needed. ^
Try Cardui.
N. B.—Write to: Ladles’ Advisor*
Dept., Chattanooga Medicine Co., Chat
tanooga Teniv., for Special Instructions,
and 64-page book, “Home Trea f raent for
Women,’ sent in plain wrapper, on re
quest.—AdvL *■ _ ^