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* © Even You Old Scrooges Must Admit There Is Nothing in This World as Empty as an Empty Stocking @ @ TVjT ME- at bay irssa: i Ym,h md ■* Copyright, 191*, International News Sarric*. .» BY NELL B1UNKLEY (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. ‘‘Honest, sir,” said Tommy in grow ing fear of this big, firm man. ‘‘Who’s been here to-night?” thun dered the interlocutor. For the briefest second the boy hes itated, and Holbrook caught his eye. ' A man,” said Tommy. ‘‘What’s his name?” Again the boy hesitated. 'I don’t know,” he said at last in a breathless tone. The Chief looked for a flickering mo ment from the soldier to the boy. ‘‘Did he come before or after 1 was here?” asked Holbrook in the matter- of-fact tone of a seeker after knowledge. The Chief betrayed surprise. HOL BROOK HAD BEEN HERE—WHY, he wondered. Aloud he said: ‘‘You were here to-night, Captain?” ‘‘Oh, yes, Chief, but the boy said J^lagg wasn’t at home.” Then address ing Tommy, he continued in a per fectly pleasant tone: ‘‘And I’ll bet you lied to me when you said it—didn’t , you?” “He—he didn’t want to see you again,” murmured poor Tommy. The Chief looked thoughtfully at Hol brook. Later they would both remem ber Tommy’s admission. The Captain continued his question ing: “But who was the other man who tame after 1 did?” ‘T don’t know, sir.” “Ah. yes you do! Out with it! His name!” thundered the Chief. ‘‘.Jones,” whimpered Tommy. “What did he want?” Tommy hesi tated. “Got any handcuffs, Donnell?” “Bure. Chief.” “Please don’t!” cried Tommy in hor ror. “He sold my uncle a letter! It's in the drawer, there!” On the Rack. Chief Dempster opened the letter and smiled with an ironical twist of his grim lips. Now' that it was too late for Hie court of law—now that Jutson Flagg was claimed by the higher law—the proof of his despicable blackmailing lay in his hunter’s hand. “Who killed your uncle?” he shot at 'Pommy with disarming suddenness. “I don’t know’, sir. He called me—I wag in bed and ” “What time?” "About eleven, I think—I opened the door and answered ” "And then?” went on the inquisitor. “I hurried do\tn—and uncle was dead.” The boy sobbed out some of his forlorn aloneness. "Then I opened the window and caUed ‘police.’ ” Donnell grinned: "You could have heard him across the Potomac.” The third degree continued. ‘“How long after you heard your uncle Availing did you get here?” "About half a minute.” "And you’re sure there was nobody here at all?” "No, sir,” asserted the frightened boy with certainty. He wondered dully if they would try to fasten the crime on him—why, he had loved his Uncle Jud— and he was alone now—surely they could not intend taking him off to the prison. “Only one answer, Chief,” broke in Holbrook, with calm assurance. The more bitterly certain he became of the true answer, the more desperately he wondered if he could make the trail lead away from the girl whb must not be hunted, hounded by the death of the blackmailer as she had been by his life. "This rose! Where did this come from?” went on the inexorable ques tioner. Breathless stillness for a moment. Larry wondered if his heart was likely to ruffle the tucks on his frilled shirt. "I don’t know. sir. My uncle didn’t have any roses.” As if in sooth a spider would have a pretty taste in pink roses! "He might have bought out a florist after you went upstairs,” declared Larry. A Danger Line. The chief chose to isnore him. That worried our Irishman a bit. Never a bit did he mind being disputed, refuted even—but to be ignored, that showed that the chief was doing his own think ing along a line of his own a danger line. "You didn't hear the outside door be fore or after you came in here? "No, sir.” "You opened the window right away?” “Yes, sir.” "And you stayed at the window until you saw the police coming? "Yes, sir.” "And you didn’t, Donnell?” "No, sor ” The chief spoke with quiet certainty that fell on Holbrook’s heart with dead, ip force. "BEFORE THE BOY GOT THE WINDOW OPEN SHE MADE THE CORNER.” "SHE Chief?” inquired the captain, with elaborate unconcern and the while he wondered that nobody heard his heart doing a reel that would be fittest for a wake. "IT WAS A WOMAN! YOU THOUGHT SO YOURSELF WHEN YOU FIRST CAME IN!” * I thought so? Oh, Chief, you’re jesting. I thought ” "You caught perfume in the air!” Holbrook countered easily. "Perfume isn’t confined to women.” He sniffed at that. “I think a woman called my uncle on the phone,” ventured Tommy. \\h, the arrant young cub, now,” thought Captain Larry. "If I couldn’t discipline him for that volunteer serv ice!" "Who was she?” snapped the chief I quickly. I Holbrook's knuckles whitened—but he did not flinch. Now—now was the mo ment when he must decide—and decide quickly, what to DO. The Telephone Call. But Tommy shook his head vaguely. The chief tried another tack. "When did she call?” "While the man was here, about half past 10.” "Was she to come here?” "I think so.” Chief Dempster allowed himself the relaxation of a full smile. ‘‘Now will you be good, Captain?” He crossed to the telephone while Hol brook turned the battery of his ques tion marks on Tommy. But mercifully enough, the lad had no more to tell; and "central” seemed a hit uncertain about tracing the call that had been received on Flagg’s phone at 10:30. But now there entered a new sleuth hound to ferret out the scent of the trail. Inspector McIntyre to join forces with Chief Dempster. And at the chief’s answer to McIn tyre’s, "Well, what have we here?” Hol brook winced anew. For the word that followed was so hopelessly' ugly and the trail he had tried to confuse lay so hopelessly plain. Would the Govern ment’s hunting dogs give tongue soon —would the pitiless pack of the law fol low the scent? For this is what Demp ster said: "Murder—and a tough proposition, too.” To add to the danger—there was a plain clothes man detailed to give the whole house his careful inspection. And now* Tommy’s examination was resumed. Even the reflection that Tommy probably liked it no better than he did was of small cheer to Aline’s self-appointed protector. "Tommy, is this a flashlight for that camera?” "Yes, sir.” "Where do those wires run?” “The desk.” "Oh—did he take pictures?” Tommy nodded. "Himself?” Tommy nodded again "What for?” "I—I don’t know, sir." "Take any to-night?" "I—I—think so.” "Out with it, kid,” thundered the chief. "The man's picture” . . . stumbled off Tommy’s gray and twitching lips. "Tell us about It quick, or you’ll get a free ride,” said the inspector, tak ing a hand in the game. “The camera stayed up there—on the top of the bookcase—with a plate in it —and the flashlight ready—my uncle al ways took anybody’s picture when they first came to see him.” "Did he get mine?” asked Holbrook with a flash of the wit that no diffi culties could ever quite restrain. “No. sir.” "Go on.” said the Inspector, who did not consider this the time for jesting. "My uncle just pushed the button and the camera opened and the flash exploded. When my uncle called me, I heard the flash—and I heard my un cle say: *1 get your picture for the police!” And at the awful possibilities of the single sentence, Holbrook’s staunch heart went dizzy and faint. Whose picture would that all-reveal ing camera contain? Whose picture had Flagg, devilishly resourceful and re vengeful even In death, taken for the police? Who would be given over by that picture to the police? The Chief was blazing his trail now. Or, as Holbrook pictured it, the blood ed dog was nosing out the scent—and he would follow it to the death. "That’s the stuff—there was your powder-smoke, Captain. ‘Get your pic ture for the police’—don’t sound like suicide, does it, Larfy, me boy?” He laughed In triumph. “No—It sounds like a pipe dream to me.’’ said Larry the daifntless. "Take charge of that camera. Don nell,” ordered the Inspector. "And don't let it out of your hands a second.” "Yes sir,” said Donnell, taking the camera carefully in his left hand and keeping the right arm ready for at tack or defense. For absolute safety’ he rested the camera on a high chair back and held It full in the range of his unwavering eyes. Holbrook wondered idly how many men an ex-soldler could handle. And then he decided that the diplomat’s waiting game must be his. "What’s in that room?” asked the In spector in a curt tone. Then, still more curtly, he pushed Tommy before him into the darker inner den of the dead spider. The plain clothes men and Chief Dempster followed on £he tour of in spection, leaving the room to the grim, sprawling, dead form—the guardian of the camera, and the hopeful fighter for a lost cause. I^arry Holbrook came and stood by the side of this other Irishman. On his face was a cordial smile that was just matched by the unctuous one on Donnell's countenance. Larry’s fingers were twitching to be at that camera. Donnell’s fingers were firm on it. “Didn’t ye have a brother named Mike Donnell in the Fifth Cavalry?” began Captain Holbrook, in a pleasantly con versational tone. "No, Captain," replied the guardian of the place, smiling. Holbrook took a judicial survey of the other man. “Indeed? Well, ye favor each other very much.” The bit of a brogue was very much in evidence for its brotherly' effect. Quite casually now' he began to ex amine the camera. "Old fashioned sort of a contrivance that—eh, Donnell?” "Looks like a good one, though,” re turned Donnell with due Importance. “ ’TIs—German lens.” And now, hav ing seen just enough for his purpose. Captain Holbrook changed the subject w'ith disarming purposelessness. "This Donnell I knew In the army used to be on the New York police force.” the figures twitched toward the camera again But Donnell’s eyes W’ere twin w'atch dogs. To 3o Continued To-morrow* THE FAMILY CUPBOARD A Dramatic Story of Hiqh Society Life in New York Novelized byl (From Owen Davis’ play now being pre- sented at the Playhouse, New York, by William A. Brady.—Copyright, 1913, by International News Service.) TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT ‘‘She’s just the same with mo quits me cold, like this -then bimeby, she’ll come back and give me all she’s got.” Kenneth looked up, his attention sud denly arrested, his mind focussing on "James.” "Why should she give you anything?” "I’M HER FATHER,” answered Jtm very quietly and simply. Kenneth looked at him for n mo ment in sheer horror. So, this maudlin old driver of cabs—this servant with his vapid old face was—Kitty’s father! He laughed bitterly. He had sacrificed so much for so little He had judged his values with such youthful cocksure ness. He had turned his back on the old life he knew—he had driven away at last even a fine old friend like Pot ter and*all for the faithless daughter of old Jim Garrity. But Jim was inured to insult. He had no personal pride to take arms for of fense or defense. He went on with a sort of meek resignation that, if either of them had known it. was own human brother to Kens attitude of hopeless helplessness. "Sure! I’m her father. She’s ashamed to have the gentlemen know it. so she takes me as a servant when she’s keepin’ house with one of ’em.” Who He Really Was. “One of them? Good God! One of them! lias there been more than one?’’ Ken sprang up he stood facing the old cab driver. "Began when she was about six teen.” » “I know!” said Ken full bitterly. "Workln’ in a store on ” "Yes!” exclaimed the tortured boy. "He weren’t a bad sort. He’d a married her, I think—only he died.” Kenneth had turned his back on the narrator of Kitty’s story, and was gaz ing out of the window out where there was sunshine and clean air a man might breathe without polluting and choking his lungs to the point of anguished suf focation. Now he whirled about, and came quickly almost menacingly toward Jim. "NO! NO! HE DIDN’T DIE!” he cried with his bitter certainty. "Sure he did*. Su-re!” said Jim pa tiently "I was to his funeral. Fine Mg feller- name of Sam Livingstone. Big Sam Livingstone Completely overcome with wave after wave of horror sweeping over him—with the cruel vision of his blow In defense of this girl—with the awful phantasmagoria of his misspent days and nights—for this—woman—with bit terness clouding his eyes and wrenching at the foundations of his mind, Ken sank—spent, weary, baffled and beaten into the only refuge he could hope for now—the relaxation of his deep old chair! THE TRUTH AT LAST. And truth was a two-edged sword to smite him 1 His Only Thought. "Then there was ” went on Jim, with the shameless relish of the scan dalmonger who finds an audience to whom his tale of horror Is new. "Don’t! Ha, ha, ha, ha, hal Don’t! It’s too funny! It’s too funny! Ha, ha, ha! Don’t tell me any more!” There was no mirth in Ken’s laughter. But to him it seemed that he was a suc cessful raconteur—and with delight, in the success of his story telling he went on. How could he tell a mind was breaking before him? “She’s drifted around, sort of. for the last ten years. She's a bit older than she lets on, but she never says any thing—she’s smart, but she’s always on the move. I think a lot of Kitty. But —she ain’t—always very good to me!” The maudlin old weakling knew no shame for what his daughter w’as. No horror of how she came by the means for being "good" to him—he only felt terror and resentment at being desert ed. left in the lurch t ow. Perhaps- perhaps that she had such a father was th*- reason why Kitty was Kitty! "She never struck you—aid she? She never struck you?” Jim was quite shocked at the thought. "No! She wouldn't do that!” Kenneth laughed again hysterically. "Well, 1 got to go look for a job, I guess, till she drifts back again," said Jim. with resigned patience. ' Jobs is hard to get nowadays—all I know is drivin’ a cab—an’ these here darned taxis ” He had almost a philosophic tone of resignation and meekness. Ken interrupted. "Here! ’ He stooped and picked up the money he had got ten for this man’s daughter the bills he had dropped to the floor in the emo tion learning that she was Jim's daughter. He picked up the roll of bills and he’d It out. Jim took it wondering—and slowly counted it. To Be Continued To-morrow. Y OUTH is thankful that it has YOUTH; thankful for the faery things that go with it; for the dreams that are; for the things that are to be; for the daring that swells its heart and takes Old Time by the beard; for the stir and the strife of life; for red blood and love; for the colors and flowers and gems that go with this decorat Ing-time of life; for the mighty joy of TO-DAY and most of all for the high, delicate hopes of what IS TO COME! Age is thankful that its feet and body are warm—that a soft chair closes it round; thankful for the things that it has known; for the dreams that came true and that it can forget those that never did; thankful for the wisdom that keeps its heart from hurting and loving too deeply; for the peace that it has found; for the youth that sometimes surrounds it; for a fine old book and the crackling hearth and, most of all, for the end of strife— for the warm, even heart-beat that finds pleasure in meditation and teels no more the tormenting, bitter-sweet flame that distracts the heart of youth. Youth and old age; wild birds and dozing pussies each thank ful for so widely different things! The Manicure Lady S By BEATRICE FAIRFAX Dear Miss Fairfax: I am a young widow, l!8 years of age, and for the past three years a man has been trying to induce me ot marry him. 1 re fused him repeatedly, telling him that I did not intend to marry j anyone. He induced me to prom ise that if I ever married 1 would marry him. Some time ago 1 met a man whom I love very much, , and married him. Since then the other ban has become a wreck and says he can not live w'ithout me. I love my husband very much, and he loves me, but I can not be happy knowing that the other man is unhappy on account of me. He says that if I would let him see me sometimes it would make it easier for him. Please advise me if it would be light if I should let him see me. S O if you should see him some times it w'ould make it easier for him—would it? Well, how about making it easier for you? And then the man you’ve married— what about him? You’ve promised to love and honor him. Do you think you would be honoring him if you saw this other man just because the other man wants you to do so? When you married your husband you gave up every sentimental obli gation you ever owed or might, could, would or should owe to any other man on earth—as long as that hus band is alive and you live with him. This man who is anxious to have you think about him when he knows you are married and ought to forget him isn’t worth anybody’s thought— for a single minute. If he was, he would try to help you —not try to harm you. He knows perfectly well that he is asking you to do something you have no right to do at all—something which will get you into trouble just so sere as you even consider it for a minute. Who is he that he dares presume so far? When you married your husband you were through once and for all with this man—don’t see him again at all—if you can help it. Don’t risk a good home and a good husband for the sake of a vain fool w’ho wants to make you appear as silly as R> is. By WILLIAM F. KIRK. ^4|F that wart ever comes in here I again and gets into my chair L he will think he is gettinf shaved at Fish’s Eddy by the oldest inhabitant,” said the Head Barber, glaring after a retreating figure. "This 1* the fourth time he has been in here and I have caught him every time. He wants more waiting on than Caruso, and he ain’t kicked in with the sign of a tip one of the four times. Wait till I catch him in this chair again!" ‘‘You should be more patient and gentle, George,” said the Manicure Lady, soothingly. “As we journey through life, we ran into a lot of queer nuts, and you must treat them kln-d of forbearing, the way you would treat a lost child. That’s tho way I go along, and I find that It makes me more happy than putting the bee to folks that is a thorn In my side.” "I ain’t never noticed that you have any patience to sell,” declared the Hoad Barber. “I have heard you recent enough telling some guy where to get off.” ‘‘Never unless I have plenty of vo cation, George,” said the Manicure Lady. "It takes a awful lot to gel me. When I ain't got perfect control of my temper of course there is times when I burn up a little, but as a rale I try to be kind and gentle tc all which comes into my dally life. I believe I will live longer that way. ai*d as Robert Moore, tne Scotch poet, once wrote: ‘An we Journey through life, let us live quite a while.’ ” "I don’t expect tips from every one,” said the Head Barber, "but when a man wants a lot of extra service he ought to dig down and pay for it That’s what gets my goat— a man wanting the whole barber shop and then sneaking out without paying me nothing extra for my trouble.” "There is folks in this world that the more they get the more they ex pect,” observed the Manicure Lady. "The old gent was telling mother and me last night about a fellow that worked for him. It seems that the old gent was going through his fac tory one day and he saw a old fel low there that used to work beside him when they was boys together. That w’as when father was poor and the factory was small. He asked the old fellow if he was still working at the same Job. and the old fellow said he was. ‘Well,’ says father, ‘you have worked long enough. Go home and rest from now on, and you will get your check just the same every week.’ "That's the kind of a sport my father is, George, but that ain't the end of the story. For about six months he didn't see no more of the old fellow, and kept sending his check regular, but at the end of the six months the old fellow actually had the nerve to come to him and 9ay that he thought he ought to have a raise! Father thought he was joking at first, but the old fellow explained that on account of the high cost of living he had to have a raise. Now if he had kept on slaving In the fac tory he wouldn’t have ever asked for a raise Can you beat that?” *T suppose your father gave him a raise," said the Head Barber. "He did not," said the Manicure Lady. "Father tied a can to him and ain't never saw him since You wouldn't think any man would be hoggish enough to ask for a raise when he was pensioned, would you?" “I'd think anything, ’ said the Head Barber, gloomily. "Maybe he is the father of that guy I Just shaved.” Going Cheap. Some time ago a man was awak ened in the night to find his wife weeping uncontrollably. "My darling!" he exclaimed, "what Is the matter?” "A dream!' she gasped "I have had such a horrible dream.” Her husband begged her to tell it to him in order that he might com fort her. After long persuasion she was Induced to say this "I thought I was walking down the street, and I came to a warehouse where there was a large placard 'Husbands for sale.' You could get beautiful ones for fifteen hundred dol lars or even for twelve hundred, and very nice looking ones for as low as a hundred.” The husband asked Innocently; "Did you see any that looked like me?” The sobs became strangling. "Dozens of them.” gasped the w'ife, ‘‘(lone up in bunches like asparagus, and sold for ten cents a bunch.” Up-to-Date Jokes ".Speaking of hens,” said an Ameri can traveler, "reminds me of an old hen my dad had on a farm in Da kota. She would hatch out anything from a tennis ball to a lemon. Why, one day she sat on a piece of iee and hatched out two quarts of hot water. ’ “That doesn’t come up to a club footed hen my old mother once had,” said one of his hearers. "They had been feeding her by mistake on saw dust instead of oatmeal. Well, she laid twelve eggs and sat on them, and when they were hatched eleven of the chickens had wooden legs and the twelfth was a woodpecker.” * * * A clever lawyer succeeded in win ning his client's case and getting the better of a rather bumptious barris ter. The latter couldn’t conceal hiS chagrin, and, meeting his victorious opponent In the smoke-room of the hotel at which they were staying, he remarked, in a loud and spiteful tone: "Sir, is there any case too dirty for you, or any criminal so much dyed in crime that you won’t defend?” "No,” said the other, in a quiet tone. “What have you been doing now f ?” 71 12 WHITEHALL ST. (Upstairs.) Men’s and Women’s Clothing Jusl In For The Holiday Trade The purchasing power of 10J busy stores is back of this one. Here man or woman can purchase stylish de pendable clothing and pay for it con veniently—your credit is good here— use it to buy sensible Christmas Gifts that will be appreciated. OUR PRICES. STYLES AND EASY TERMS CAN NOT BE BEAT. Special Showing of Women’s Coats, Suits, Millinery and Furs Ladies, you’ll find distinctive styles here, the kind of wearing apparel that compels admiration. Come and see the new arrivals—you’ll find many a holiday gift suggestion here. M A witty judge declared recently that “a patriot was a man who re- • fused to button his wife’s blouse. A martyr,” he went on. ‘Ms one who at tempts and fails, while a hero tries and succeeds.” “Then, what is a coward?” asked a I curious bystander. "Oh, a coward." replied the Judge, "is a man who remains single so that | he won’t have to try.” • * * "I am thinking of touring in South Africa next season,” remarked the co median. "Take my advice and don’t,” replied ' the villain. "An ostrich egg weighs j j from two to three pounds.” Certain Relief from headaches, dull feelings, and fatigue of biliousness, comes quickly —and permanent improvement in bodily condition follows—after your stomach, liver and bowels have been toned and regulated by BEECHAM’S PEES Held everywhere. In boxes. 10c-, 25s, Smart Coats $12 to $27 Clever Suits $12 to $30 Fur Sets $10 to $35 Warm Sweaters .... $2 to $5 Silk Dresses $12 to $25 Walking' Skirts $4 to $7 Girls’ Coats 4 to $7 Petticoats $2 to $5 is. SUITS AND [•IlftoVERCOATS iFOit MEN AND BOYS Among our new arrivals are all the latest style materials, weaves and designs. Among the Overcoats are the Nobby Chinchillas, with Belted Backs and Shawl and Convert ible Collars. Men’s Overcoats $10 to $24 Boys' Overcoats $4 to $10 Men's Suits $8.50 to $23 Boys’ Suits $3 to $8 Men's Shoes $2.75 to $4.50 Men’s Hats $1 to $3 THE MENTER CO. Credit , . • :.r X, ' X