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GlQMiW MAGAZINE
C3
A1
N
BA')
/ A Thrilling Story of
[, Society Blackmailers
rN*v*l!x*d %yt
(From the r>iay by George Scar
borough, no* 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?" ‘hun
dred the interlocutor.
For the briefeet second the boy hea
tated, and Holbrook caught his eye.
“A man," said Tommy
"What’s his name?"
Again the boy hesitatec
"T don’t know," he said at uaart in a
breathless tone
The Chief looked for a flickering mo
ment from the soldier to the boy.
"Did he come before or after I vras
here?" asked Holbrook in the matter-
of-fact tone o? a seeker after knowledge
The Chief betrayed surprise. HOL
BROOK HAD BEEN HERB-WHY, he
T/ondered. Aloud he said:
’*You were here to-night, Captain?"
"Oh, yes. Chief, but the boy said
Flagg wasn’t at home. Then address
ing Tommy, he continued In a per
fectly pleasant tone^ "And I'll bet you
'led to me when you said it—didn’t
vouT’
"He—he didn't want to you
• gain," murmured poor Tommy.
The Chief looked thoughtfully at Hol-
orook. Later they would both remem
ber Tommy’s admission.
The Captain continued nis quesAon-
ng: "But who was the other man who
•ame after I did?"
*T don’t know, sir.
'Ah, yes you do! Out with it I His
: a.me!" thundered the Chief.
Jones,” whimpered Tommy
‘What did he want?" Tommy nesi-
~#<1. "Got any handcuffs. Donnell?”
’fcure, Chief."
’Please don’t!" cried Tommy in hor
u--. "He sold my uncle • Tetter! It’s
r the Jrawer, there’
On the Rack
’A- * Dempster opened the letter and
tiled with an ironical twist of his
. •.!!•( ps. Now that it was too late for
e court of law—now that Jutson Flagg
:>■ claimed by the higher law—the
. »joi of his despicable blackmailing lay
r his hunter’s hand.
‘Who killed your uncle?" he shot at
Tommy with disarming suddenness.
‘I don’t know, sir He called me—I
4 as In bed and "
"What time?"
"About eleven, I think—I opened the
foor and answered ”
"And then?" went on the Inquisitor.
T * hurried down—and uncle was
Jead." The boy sobbed out tome of
ns forlorn aioneneas. "Then I .opened
•*#» window and ca’led ‘police.’ "
Donnell grinned: "You could have
'-ard Mm across the Potomac.’’
The third degree continued
’How long after you heard your uncle
ailing did you get here?"
"About half a minute."
’And you’re sure there wa* nobody
ore at all?"
"No. sir." asserted the frightened boy
with certainty. He wondered dully if
hey would try to fasten the crime on
him—why, he had loved his Uncle Jud—
and he was alone now—surely they
oou’d not intend taking him off to the
orison.
‘Only one answer. Chief, broke In
Holbrook, with calm assurance. The
more bitterly certain he became of the
'rue answer, the more desperately he
wondered If he could make the trail
ead away from the girl who must not
be hunted, hounded by the death of
•he blackmailer as she had been by his
•ife.
"This rose Where did this come
<rom?" went on the Inexorable ques
tioner.
Breathless stillness for a moment.
'.*rry wondered if his heart wife likely
o ruffle the tucks on his frilled shirt.
"T don’t know, sir. My uncle didn’t
tave any roses." As if in sooth a
spider would have a pretty taste in pink
I'oaM! '
••He mlgh'. have bought out a. florist |
After you went upstairs.” declared |
!*rrr
A Danger Line.
The chief chose to ignore him. That j
varied our Irishman a bit. Never a I
bit did h* mind being disputed, refuted |
ven—but to be ignored, that showed |
oat the chief wa* doing his own think-
r,g *iong a line of his own—a danger j
' ins.
"You didn’t hear the outside docc be
ore or after you came in here’"
"No, sir."
You opened the window right away?"
Tee, sir."
And you stayed at the window until
-ou saw the police coming’"’
"Yes. sir.
And you didn't, Donnell?
No. sor
The chief spoke with quiet certainty
that 'ell on Holbrook’s heart with dead-
V force. "BEFORE THE BOY GOT
\ THE WINDOW OPEN SHE MADE
THE CORNER.
"SHE Chief?" inquired the captain,
vlth elaborate unconcern—and the while
he wondered that nobody heard his
heart doing a reel that would be Attest
for a wake.
"IT WAS A WOMAN!
’HOUGH T SO YOURSELF
YOU FIRST CAME IN!"
, "I thought soV Oh, Chief, you’re
testing. I thought ”
"You caught perfume in the air!
Holbrook countered easily ’Perfume
'sn’t confined to women He sniffed
at that
"I think a woman called my uncle on
he phone.’ ventured Tommy
Ah, the arrant young < ab. i.y*
a g fc
•iiscipllne him for that volunteer serv
ice!”
’’Who was she?' anappec the chief
•uicklyf
li&ciosoeic** iaiokie* y»WtaMir—bus ***
Youth and Age ct
Op^tfht. 1»1S. "m turner.
BY NELL BRINKLEY
YOU
WHEN
did not fltneh. Now-rnow was the mo
ment when he roust decide—and decide
quickly, what to DO
The Telephone Call.
But Tommy shook his heac 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 allowec 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 bit uncertain
about tracing the call that had been
received on Flagg's phone at 1C:50.
But now there entered a new sleuth
hound to ferret out the scent of the.
trail. Inspector McIntyre came to Join
forces with Chief Dempster.
And at the chief’s answer to 'Mcln
tyre’s, "Well, what have we here?" Ho!-
brook winced anew. For the word that
followed wan 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 ’aw 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 Aiine’s
self-appointed protector.
"Tommy, is this a flashlight for tha;
camera?"
"Yes, sir. ’
"Where do tboee wire* run?
"The desk/’
"Oh—did he take pictures?
Tommy nodded
“Himself?"
Tommy nodded agat
“What for?"
"I—I don’t know sir
Take any to-night?”
"I—I—think so.”
"Out with it, kid.” thundered the I
chief.
"The man's picture’ . stumbled
off Tommy’s gray and twitching lips.
"Tell us about It quick, or you’ll i
get a free ride," said the inspector, tak-
ing a hand in .the game. - A
"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 <lld j
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 says ‘I cjet your picture for the
polled”
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, a* 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 wa* your
powder-smoke, Captain. ‘Get your pic
ture for the police’—don’t sound like
suicide, does It, Larry, me boy? ’ He
laughed In triumph
"No—It sounds like a pipe dream to
me.’’ said Larry the dauntless.
"Take charge of that camera. Don
nell.” ordered thi Inspector. "And don’t
let it out of your hands a second."
"Yes ijlr,” 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 ex-soldier 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
i^to the darker inner den of the dead
spider. The plain clothes men and Chief
Dempster followed on the tour of in
spection, leaving the room to the grim,
sprawling, dead 'orro—the guardian of
the camera, and the hopeful fighter for
a lost cause
Larry 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.” t The bit of a brogue was
very much In evidence lor its brotherly
effect.
Quite casualty n0 w 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.
' 'Tie—German iene.” And now, hav-
frg. It?.--* enough 'or purpose,
•'• UoIbvwV ■ : _• ihe subject
tr'.l disarming purpos^ies'nej ;
■ ‘Th ■ Donnell i knew ir Lie army
used to be on the Mew York police
force.' the figures twitched toward the
camera again. But Donnell's eyes were
twin watch dogs
Ts> Tt-gf^a
THE FAMILY CUPBOARD
A Dramatic Story of High Society Life in New York
fNovellred byl
\
L \\A*. V.
A
fj
(Prom 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 me—quits
me cold, like this—then bimeby, she’ll
come back and give toe all she’s got."
Kenneth looked up, his attention sud
denly arrested, his mind focussing on
"James.
"Why should she glv# you anything?”
"I’M HER FATHER,” answered Jim
very quietly and simply.
Kenneth looked at him for a mo
ment in sheer horror. So. this maudlin
old driver- of cabs—this servant with
his vapid old face was -Kilty’s father!
He laughed bitterly. He had sacrificed
ho much—for so little. He had Judged
his values with such youthful cocksure
ness. Ho 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 3.11 for tha faithless daughter
of old Jim Garrlty.
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 rneek resignation that, if either
of them had known it. was own human
brother to Ken’s 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 fif
them! Has 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.
“Workin’* 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 hla 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! NOt HE DIDN’T DIB!” he
cried with his bitter certainty.
"Sure he did’. 8u-re!" said Jim pa
tlentiy. "I was to his funeral. Fine
big feller—name of fiam Livingstone.
Big Sam Livingstone——r-”
Completely overcome — with wave
after wave of horror sweeping ove r
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
terneas cloudlna 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 sm!t«
i him!
! His Only Thought
"Then there was ” went on Jim,
with the shameless relish of the scan
dalmoncer who finds an audience to
whom his tale of horror la new.
’’Don’t! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Don't:
It’s too funny! it’* too funny! Hs, 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 sue
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 or, but she never says any
thing—she’e mart, but she’s always on
the move. I think a lot of Kitty. But
—sh* ain't—always very good to me!”
The maudlin old weakling knew re
shame for what his daughter was. Ne
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 now. Perhaps-
perhaps that she had such a father was
the reason why Kitty was—Kitty!
“She never struck you—did the? Sh#
never struck you?"
Jim was quite shocked at. the though*
"No! She wouldn’t do thatl”
Kenneth laughed again hysterlea’ly
“Well. I got to go look for a lob, J
? uess, till she drifts back again, said
im. with resigned patience. “Jobs >#
hard to get nowadays—all I know Is
drivln’ a cab—ah’ 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 get
ten for this man's daughter—th6 bills
he had dropped to the floor in the emo
tlon of learning that she was Jim’s
daughter. He picked up the roll of
bills and he’d It out.
Jim took it wondering—and slow’-
counted it.
To Be Continued To-morrow.
,
100 STORES WHERE YOUR CREDIT IS GOOD
/Vs
Y OUTH ;b manktul tii*l It a»s YOUTH; tiiauktul for til* faery;
things that go with it; for the dreams that are; for the things
that are to be; for the darihg that swells its heart and takes
Old Time by the beard; for the stir ami the strife of life: for red blood
and lore; 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 close* 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 feels
no more the tormenting, bitter-sweet flame that distracts the heart of
youth. Youth end old afe: wild birds and dosing pussies—each thank
Tal for so widely different things! / —
A Widow in
Distress
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
Dear Miss Fairfax
I am a young widow, 28 years
of age, and for the past three
years a man has been trying to
Induce me ot marry him. i re
fused him repeatedly, telling him
that I did not - intend to marry
anyone. He induced me to prom
ise that if I ever married I would
marry him. Some time ago I met
a man whom I love very much,
and married him. Since then the
other ban has become a wreck and
says lie can not live without me.
I love my husband very much,
and he loves me, but I can not
he happy knowing that the other
man la 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 right If f
should let him see me
v—S O if you > should see him some-
times it would make i; 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 ro 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 jusi so sure as you
even consider it for a minute
Who Is he iha 1 be dares presume
so fti.,-7
When you married your huxbar.d
you were through once and for ail
wittr 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 foo!
who wants to mat* vou »pp*»* a*
«i!lv a* h* wt
The Manicure Lady s
%c
By WitLIAM F KIRK,
d 41 - F that wart ever comes :n here
I agrairi and *exe into my chair
he will think he la gettlnf
•haved at Fish’s EddJ- by the oldest
Inhabitant,’’ said the Head Barber,
Slarin* afte a retreating figure.
"This Is the fourth time he has been
In here and I have caught him every
time. He wants more waiting on
than Caruso, and h.e ain't kicked In
with th# sign of a tip ©ne of the four
times. Wait till I catch him in this
chair again!"
"You should l>e more patient and
guntle, George. ’ said the Manicure
Le.dy, soothingly. "As we journsy
through life ws ran into a lot oi
queer mite, and you ffiuet treat them
k!n4 of forbearing the way you
would treat a lost child. That’s the
way I g* along and T find that It
makes me mors hippy Thar ?ruttlrg
tbs bee t® felKs That is a in my
■Jde.”
"I ain’t nener rr* re/, that v fu have
Any aatlenoe *e sell,” fierier efl tbs
Head Barber "I have hesrd you
reoent enough telling '■orr.e gt?y wberj
te ge* off
"Never urrlees I bar* plenty, of vo-
fteTier qie'ff satfi he Manicure
Lad: "It take:, a .avful 1 jt to
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 ? try to be kind and gentle tc
all which eomes into my dally life. I
believe I will live longer that way.
and ar Robert Moore, the Scoteh
poet, once wrote ’As we Journey
through life, let *is live quite s
while.’ ’’
"I don’t expect tips from every
one," said the Head Barber, "but
when a man wants & lot of extra
service he ought to dig down and pay
for it. That's what gets my goat—
a man wanting the whole ©arbor
shop and then sneslrlng out without
paying me nethfnr cTtrr f e v- my
trouble
"There la folks ‘is world •’-•at
;h- more they get the mere thi ex
pact, ' observed the • i- . cu.e Lady.
"The ol« gent ▼-&.© telli-.g moth-?.' and
me last night about a fellow that
worked for him. It seems that the
rwr we* going *b Us Sac
tory ore day and he saw a ©Id fel
low there that used to work besidA
him when they was boys togethsr
That wae when father was poor and
th# factory was small. He asked the
old fellow if he was still working at
J 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 Junt 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
i raonthe hs 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
th# nerve to come t# him and say
that he thought be ought to have a
raise! Father thought he was Joking
at first, but ths o;d fellow explained
that on account of the high coat of \
living hs hsd to nav« a rats*. New
' :f be bad kert on slaving In the law
‘ory be wouldn’t T .tve ever asked fas
#. ”s‘s* Can yov beat that?"
"I suppose your father gave ii!« %
I raise’ said the Head Barber
He did not* sale tha Manlou?*
Lady. Father tied a can to him and
: Ain't never saw him since. Tots
1 wouldn’t think any man would be
1 hoggish enough t© ask for a raise
v her. he was pensioned, would yea?"
I’d think anything,” said the Head
Barber, gloomily. Maybe he !§ th*
father of that guy I jus? shaved ”
Going Cheap.
Some time ago a man was await*,
•ned in the night te fi*4 his w!f*
weepirg uncontrollably.
"My darling!” he exclaimed, "what
Is the matterT*’
"A dreera!” eh* gasped "I have had
such a horrible dream."
Her husband begged hsr to tell it
to him In order that he might com
fort hsr Aftsr long persuasion shs
was induced to say this
’’I thought I wa# walking down the
• ■rest, srvd I came to a warehouse
where there was a large placard
Husbands sale.’ You could get
beautiful ores for fifteen hundred do!
lars or even for twelve hundred, and
very nice looalrg ones for ak low »e
a hundred.
The hueband asked innocently
■'Db! ' A ' at looked ke
me
The aooe became strangling
Dozens of them ** gasped the wife,
“done ap in bunches like axparego*
hztfi ewi* te* u. ws* a touted
Up-to** Date
Joke?
‘Speaking of hene,’’ said an Ameri
can traveler, "reminds me of an old
hen my dad had on a farm in Da
kota. She would batch out anything
from .a tennis ball to a lemon. Why.
one day she sat on a piece of Ice ana
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 wa* a woodpecker "
* * *
A clever lawyer succeeded In win
ning his client’s ca^e and getting the
better of a rather bumptious bArrin-
ter. The latter couldn’t conceal his
chagrin, and, meeting his victorious
I opponent In the smoke-room of the
i hotel at which they were staying, be
I remarked, In a loud and spiteful tone:
"Sir. is there any case too dirty for
I you, or any criminal ao much dyed
lin crime that you won’t defend?”
"No.” said the other. In a quiet
| tone. "What have you b*en doing
nowT
1 « * ♦
A -witty Judge declared recently
that a patriot wa« a mar: who re-
! ‘'used to button hi* wife’s blouse. A
i martyr," he went or. "!s one who at-
i tempts and fails while * hero tries
i and succeeds."
Then, what is a coward' asked a
curious bystander
‘ Oh. a coward, replied the judg*:
! "is a man who remains single so that
j 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
from two to three pounds."
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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
Smart Coate
Clever Suits
Fur Sets
Warm Sweaters
Silk Dressef
Walking Skirts
Girls ’ Coats
Petticoats
$12 to $27
$12 to $30
$10 to
$2 to
$12 to $26
$4 to $7
.. 4 to $7
$2 to $6
$35
$5
M
AND
OVERCOATS
FOR' MEN
Among our new arrivals «r« all th# latest
style materials, weaves and designs. Among
the Overcoats are the Nobby Chinchillas,
with Belted Backs and Shawl and Convert
ible Collars.
$10 to $24
., $4 to $10
$8.50 to $23
$3 to $8
$2.75 to $4.50
$1 to $3
W Ww !•*».. Ha