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Read It Here Now—See It In Pathe Motion Pictures
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himaelf called me up on the telephone. It was
he—not the Star—as | learned only too late.
1 had searcely got out of the house, as Craig
told me afterwards, when Flirty Florrie told
all over again the embroidered tale that had
caught my ear.
Kennedy sald nothing, but listened intently,
porbaps betraying in his face the scepticlsm
he felt.
“You see.” she said, still voluble and eager
to convinece him, “I was only walking on the
street. Here-—lot me show you It was just
like this.”
She took his arm and, before he knew it, led
him to the spot on the floor near the window
which Dan had indicated. Meanwhile Dan was
listening attentively in his closet.
“Now--stand there. You age Just as I was
only 1 didn't expect.anything”
She was pantomiming some one approaching
stealthily while Kennedy watched her with in
terest, tinged with doubt. Behind Craig in his
cleset, Dan was reaching for the switchboard
bhutton,
“You see,” she said advancing quickly aund
acting her words, “he placed his hands on my
shoulders—so—then threw his arms about my
neck—so!"
She said no more, but imprinted a deep, pas
sionate kiss on Kennedy's mouth, clinging
closely to him. Before Kennedy could draw
away, Dan, in the closet, had pressed the bui
ton and the switch several times in rapid suc
cession.
“Th—that's very realistic,” gasped Craig. a
good deal taken aback by the sudden oscula
tory assault.
He frowned
“I—l'll look into the case,” he sald, backing
away. “There—there may be some sclentific
explanation—but—er"” ——
He was plainly embarrassed and hastened to
make his adieux
Kernedy had no more than shut the door be
fore Dar, with a gleeful Jaugh, burst out of the
closet and flung his own arms about Florrie in
an embrace that might have been poisoned, it
is true, but was none the less real for that.
How little impression the thing made on
Rennedy can be easily seen from the fact that
on the way downtown that afternoon he stopped
at Martin’s, on Fifth avenue, and bought a ring
--a very handsome solitaire, the finest Martin
had in the shop.
It must have been about the time that he
decided to stop at Martin's that the Dodge
butler, Jennings, admitted a young lady who
presented a card on which was engraved the
name
Miss Florence Leigh,
20 Prospect Avenue.
As he handed Elaine the card, she looked
up from the book she was reading and took it.
“l 1 don't know her,” she said, puckering her
pretty brow. “Do you? What does she look
lke?"
“1 never saw her before, Miss Elaine,” Jen
nings shrugged. “But she Is very well
dressed.” .
“All right, show her in, Jennings. [l'll see
her.” .
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This Is from ti iedy with tne DA
n s -~ QlB -5y
e Moving Picture Fi Poisoned Kiss'' Photog
§ iim “ . ograph
of “The Ex grapuns
:xploits of Elaine” S . ’
by the Famous Pathe P
7 ‘layers
. Elaine moved into the drawing room, Jea
nings springing forward to part the portieres
for her and passing through the voom quickly
where Flirty Florrie sat waiting. Flirty Florrie
rose and stood gasing at Elaine, apparently
very much embarrassed, even after Jennings
had gome. ]
There was & short pause. The woman Was
the first to speak. i
“It is embarrassing,” she sald finally, “but,
Miss Dodge, 1 have come to you to beg for my
love "
Elaine looked at her nonplussed.
“Yes,” she continued, “you do not kpow It
but Cralg Kenneds is Infatuated with you™
She paused again, then added, “But he is en
gaged to me”
Elaine stared at the woman. She was dazed.
She could not believe it.
“There is the ring,” Flirty Florrie added, in
dicating a very impressive paste diamond.
Flaine frowned, but sald nothing. Her head
was In a whirl She could not belleve. Al
though Florrle was very much embarrassed,
she was quite as evidently very much wrought
up. Quickly she reached into her bag and drew
out two photographs, without a word, handing
them to Elaine. Elaine took them reluctantly.
“There's the proof,” Florrie said simply,
choking a sob.
Elaine looked with a start. Sure enough.
there was the neat living room in the house on
Prospect avenue. In one picture Florrie bad
her arms over Kennedy's shoulders. In the
other, apparently, they were passionately
kissing.
Elaine slowly laid the photographs on the
table,
“Please—please, Miss Dodge—give me back
my lost love. You are rich and beautitul—l am
poor. 1 have only my good looks. But—l—l
love him—and he—loves me—and has promised
to marry me.”
Filled with wonder, and misgivings now, and
quite as much, embarrassed at the woman's
pleadings as the woman herself had acted a
moment before, Elaine tried to wave her off.
“Really—l—l don't know anything about all
this. It—lit doesn't concern me. Please—go.”
Florrie had broken down completely and was
weeping softly into a lace handkerchief.
She moved toward the door. Elaine followed
her. ’
“Jennings—please see the lady to the door.”
Back in }he drawing room, Elaine almost
seized the photographs and hurried into the
Wbrary where she could be alone. There she
stood gazing at them-—doubt, wonder and fear
battling on her plastic features.
Just then she heard the bell> and Kennedy's
voice in the hall
She shoved the photograpns away from her
on the table,
“How are vou this afternoon,” Kenned:
greeted Elaine gally.
Elaine had been too overcome by what had
just happened to throw it off so easily, and
received him with studied coolness.
Still, Craig, man-like, did not notice it at
once. In fact, he was too busy gazing about
ta see that neither Jennings, Marie nor the
duenna Aunt Josephine were visible. They
were not and he quickly took the ring from
his pocket. Without waiting, he showed it to
Klaine. In fact, so sure had he been that
everything was plain sailing, that he seemed
to take it almost for granted. Under other
circumstances he would have been right. But
wot to-night.
Elaine very cooly admired the ring, as Cralg
might have eyed a specimen on & microscope
slide. Still, he did not notice.
He took the ring, about to put it on her
finger. Elaine drew away. Concealment was
not in her frank nature.
She picked up the two photographs.
“What have you to say about those® ahe
asked cuttingly.
Kennedy. quite surprised, took them and
looked at them. Then he let them fall eare
lessly on the table and dropped Into a chalr
his head back in a burst of laughter.
“Why-—~that was what they put over ou
Walter,” he sald. “He called me up early
this affernocon—told me he had discovered one
of these polsoned kiss cases you have read
‘about in the papers. Think of it—all that to
pull a concealed camera! Such an elaborate
business—just to get me where they ecould
fake this thing. ! suppose they've put some
one up to saying she's engaged?™
Elalne was not so lightly affected. “But”
she sald geverely, repressing her emotion, “!
don't understand, Mr. Kennedy, how scientific
inquiry Into ‘the pofsoned kiss' could necessi
tate this sort of thing.”
She pointed at the photographs aceusingly
“But,” he began. trying to explain.
“No buts,” she interrupted.
“Then you belleve that I—-"
“How can you, as a sclentist, ask me to
doubt the camera? she Insinuated, very cold
iy turning away.
Kennedy rapidly began to see that it was
tar more serious than he had at first thought
. “Very well,” he sald with a touch of im
patience, “if my word is not to be taken—l-—-
111 l -
He had seized his hat and stick.
Elaine did not delgn to answer.
Then, without a word, he staiked out of the
door.
As he did so, Elaine bastily turned and took
a' few steps after him, as if to recall her
words, then stopped. and her pride got the
beiter of her.
She walked slowly back to the chair by the
table—the chalr he had been sitting in—sank
down into it and cried.
Kennedy was moping in the laboratory the
next day when ! came in.
Just what the trouble was | did not know
but 1 had decided that it was up to me to
try to cheer him up.
“Say, Craig.” ! began, trying to overcome
his fit of blues,
Kennedy, filled with his own thoughts, paid
no attention to me. Still, 1 kept on.
Finally he got up and, before I knew it he
took me by the ear and marched me into the
next room.
| saw that what he needed chiefly was to be
let alone, and he went back to nis chair, drop
ping down into it and banging his fists on
the table. Under his breath he loosed a small
volley of bitter expletives. Then he jumped
up.
“By George—l will.” he muttered
1 poked my head out of the door in time to
see him grab up his hat and coat and dash
from the room, putting his coat on as he wen!
“He's a nut to-day.” 1 exclaimed to myself
Though ! did not know yet of the quarrel,
Kennedy had really struggled with himself
until he was willing to put his pride in his
pocket and had made up his mind to call on
KElaine again.
As he entered he saw that it was really of
no use, for only Aunt Josephine was in the
library.
“Oh. Mr. Kennedy,” she said innocently
enough, “I'm so sorry she isn’t here. There's
been something troubling her and she won't
tell me what it is. But ghe's gone to call on a
voung woman, a Florence Leigh, 1 think.”
“Florence Leigh!" exclaimed Craig with a
start and a frown. “Let me use your tele
nhone.”
I had turned my attention in the laboratory
to a story 1 was writing. when I heard the
telephone ring. It was Craig. Without a word
of apology for his rudeness, which I knew had
been purely absent-minded. I heard him say:
“Walter, meet me in half an hour outside that
Plorence Leigh's house.”
He was gone in a minute, giving me scarcely
ime to call back that T would.
Then, with a hasty apology for his abrupt
ess, he excused himself, leaving Aunt Jose
shine wondering at his strange actions.
As about the same time that Craig had left
the laboratory at the Dodge house Elaine and
\unt Josephine had been in the hall near the
iprary. Elaine was in her street dress.
“I'm going out, Auntie,” she said with an at
‘empted galety. *“And,” she added, “if anyone
‘hould ask for me, I'll be there.”
She had showed her a card on which was
sngraved the name and address of Florence
eigh.
“All right, dear,” answered Aunt Josephine,
10t quite clear in her mind what subtle change
there was in Elaine,
Half an hour later 1 was waiting near the
nouse in the suburbs to which I had been
directed by the strange telephone call the day
nefore. 1 noticed that it was apparently. de
serted. The blinds were closed and a “To
|.et” sign was on the side of the house.
“Hello, Walter,” cried Craig at last, bustling
along.
He stopped a moment to look at the house
Then, together, we went up tne steps and rang
the bell, gazing about.
“Strange,” muttered Craig. “The house
looks deserted.”
He pointed out the sign aund the generally
unoecupied look of the place, Nor was there
any answer to our ring. Kennedy paused only
a second, in thought.
“Come on, Walter,” he said with a sudden
decision. “We've got to get in here some
how.”
He led the way around the side of the house
0 a window, and, with a powerful grasp.
wrenched open the closed shutters. ‘He had
inst smashed the window vicionsly with his
foot when a policeman appeared.
“Hey, you fellows—what are vou doing
‘here?” he shouted.
Craiz paused a second, then pulled hi= card
rom his pocket.
“Just the man ! want,” he parried, much to
he policeman’s surprise. “There's something
rooked going on here. Follow us in.”
We climbed into the window There was
the same living room we had .nen the day
before. But it was now bare and deserted
SUNDAY. FEBRUARY 28 1915,
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Kverything was gone except an old broken
chair. Craig and | were frankly amazed at
the complete and sudden change, and | think
the policeman was a little surprised, for he
qad thought the place occupied.
“Come on,” cried Kennedy, beckoning us on.
Quickly he rushed through the house., There
was not a thing in it to change the deserted ap
pearance of the first floor. At last it occurred
to Craig to grope his way down cellar. There
was nothing there, either, except a bin, as inno
cent of coal as Mother Hubbard's cupboard was
of food. For several minutes we hunted about
without discovering a thing.
Kennedy had been carefully going over the
place, and was at the other side of the cellar
from ourselves when | saw him stop and gaze
at the floor. He was not looking, apparently,
<o much as listening. [ strained my ears, but
could make out nothing. Before 1 could say
anvthing he raised his hand for silence. Appar
ently he had heard something.
“Hide,” he whispered suddenly to us.
Without another word, though for the life of
me I could make nothing out of it, I pulled the
policeman into a little angle of the wall nearby,
while Craig slipped into a similar angle,
We waited a moment. Nothing happened.
jad he been seeing things or hearing things, I
wondered?
From our hidden vantage we could now see
f square plece in the floor, perhaps five feet
n diameter, slowly open up as though on a
pivet. Beneath it we could make out a tube
like opening, perhaps three feet across, with a
covered top. It slowly opened.
The weird and sinister figure ol a man ap
peared. Over his head he wore a peculiar hel
met with hideous glass pieces over the eyes anil
tubes that connected with a tank which he car
ried buckled to his back. As he slowly draggad
himself out 1 could wonder only at the outland
ish headgear.
Quickly he closed down the cover of the tube,
but not before a vile effluvium seemed to es
cape and penetrate even to us in our hiding
places. As he moved forward, Kennedy gave
a flying leap at him, and we followed with a
regular football interference.
1t was the work of only, a moment for us to
subdue and hold him, while Craig ripped off the
helmet.
It was Dan the Dude.
“What's that thing?” I puffed, as I helped
Craig with the headgear.
“An oxygen helmet,” he replied. “There must
be air down the tube that cannot be breathed.”
He went over to the tube. Carefully he
opened the top and gazed down, starting back
a second later, with his face puckered up at the
noxious odor.
“Sewer gas,” he ejaculateq, as he slammed
the cover down, Then he added to the police
man: “Where do yvou suppose it comes from?"
“Why,” replied the officer, “the St. James via
duet—an old sewer—is somewhere about these
parts.”
Kennedy puckered his face as he gazed at our
prisoner. He reached down quickly and lifted
something off the man’s coat.
“Golden hair,” he muttered. “Elaine’s!”
A moment later he seized the man and shock
him roughly.
“Where is she—tell me?” he demanded.
_The man snarled some kind of reply, refusing
to say a word about her.
“Tell me,” repeated Kennedy.
“Humph!"” snorted the prisoner, more close
mouthed than ever, .
Kennedy was furious. As he sent the man
reeling away from him, he seized the oxygen
helmet and began putting it on. There was only
one thing to do—to follow the clue of the golden
strands of hair. .
Down into the pest hole he went, his head
protected by the oxygen helmet. As he cau
tiously took one step after another down a
series ©of iron rungs inside the hole, he found
that the water was up to his chest. At the bot
tom of the perpendicular pit was a narrow, low
passageway leading off. 1t was just about big
enough to get through, but he managed to grope
along it. He came at last to the main viaduct,
an old stone-walled sewer, as murky a place as
could well be imagined, filled with the fouleatf
sewer gas, He was hardly able to keep his feet
in the swirling, bubbling water that swept past,
a'most up to his neck.
The minutes passed as the policeman and !
vatched our prisoner in the cellar by the fube,
i iooked anxiously at my watch.
“Craig!” 1 shouted at last, unable to control
As Craig Kennedy Turns On the Current Elaine's Chest Slowly Begins to Rise and Fall.
This Is frofmrthe Moving Picture Film of “The Exploits of Elaine” by the Famous Pathe Players.
No answer. What to do? To go down after
him seemed out of the question.
By this time Craig had come to a small, open
chamber, into which the viaduct widened. On
the wall he found another series of iron rungs,
up which he climbed. The gas was tersible.
As he neared the top of the ladder he came
to a shelf-like aperture in the sewer chamber,
and gazed about. It was horribly dark. He
reached out and felt a piece of cloth. Anxiously
he pulled on it. Then he reached further into
the darkness.
There was Elaine. unconsclous, apparently
dead. .
He shook her, endeavoring to wake her up.
But it was no use.
In desperation Cralg carried her down the
ladder.
With our prisoner, we could only look help
lessly around. Again and again I looked at my
watch as the minutes lengthened. Suppose h=
oxygen gave out?
“By George, I'm going down after him,” 1
cried in desperation,
“Don't do it,” advised the policeman. “You'll
never get out.”
One whiff of the horrible gas told me that
he was right. 1 should not have been able ‘o
go fifty feet in it. 1 looked at him In despair.
It was impossible.
“Listen,” sald the policeman, straining nis
ears.
There was, indeed, a faint noise from the
black depths below us. A rope alongsile the
rough ladder began to move, as though some
one was pulling it taut. He gazed down.
“Craig! Craig!™ I called. “Is that you?"
No answer. But the rope still moved. Per
haps the helmet made it impossible for him
to hear.
He had struggied back in the swirling cur
rent almost exhausted by his helpless burden.
Holding Elaine’'s head above the surface of
fthe water and pulling on the repe to attract
my atiention, for he could neither hear nor
shoat, he had taken a turn of the rope about
Elaine. 1 tried pulling on it. There was some
thing heavy on the other end, and I kept or
pulling. g
At last I could make out Kennedy dimly
mounting the ladder. Tire weight was the un
conscious body of Elaine which he steadied as
he mounted the Jadder. 1 tugged harder dand
he slowly came up.
Together, at last, the policeman and 1
reached down and pulled them out.
We placed Elaine on the cellar floor, as
comfortably as was possible, and the police
man began his first-aid motlons for resuscita
tion.
“No—no!"” cried Kennedy. “Not here—take
her up where the air is fresher.”
With his revolver still drawn to overawe
the prisoner, the . policeman forced him to aid
us in carrying her up the rickety flight of cel
lar steps. Kennedy followed quickly, unscrew
ing the oxygen helmet as.he went.
In the deserted living room we deposited our
senseless burden, while Kennedy, the helmet
off now, bent over her.
“Quick—quick!” he cried to the officer. “An
ambulance!”
“But the prisoner,” the policeman indicated.
“Hurry-—hurry; I'll take care of him,” urged
(‘raig, seizing the policeman’'s pistol and
thrusting it into his pocket, “Walter, help me.”
He was trying the ordinary methods of re
suscitation. Meanwhile the officer had hurried
out, seeking the nearest telephone, while we
worked madly to bring Elaine back.
Again and again Kennedy bent and out
stretched her arms, trying to induce resplira
tion again. So busy was I that for the moment
| forgot our prisoner.
But Dan had seen his chance. Noiselessly he
picked up the old chair in the room and with it
raised was approaching Kennedy to knock him
out.
Before 1 knew it mysell Kennedy had heard
him. With a half instinctive motion he drew
the revolver from his pocket and, almost before
I could see it, had shot the man. Without a
word he returned the gun to his pocket and
again bent over Klaine, without so much as a
look at the crook, who sank to the floor, drop
ping the chair from his nerveless hands.
Already the policeman had got an ambulance,
which was now tearing along to us. :
Frantically Kennedy was working. !
A moment he paused and looked at me-- hope
iess.
Just then, outside, we could hear the ambu
lance, and a doctor and two attendants hufl%é
up to the door. Without a word the doctor
seemed 1o appreciate the gravity of the case.
He finished his examination and shook his
head. i
“There is no hope—no hope,” he sail slowly.
Kennedy merely stared at him. But the
of us instinctively removed sur hats. =
Kennedy gazed at Elgine, overcome. Wal
this the end? $ e
It was not many minutes later {hat Kenneds
had Elaine in the little sitting room off the s
boratory, having taken her there in the e
lance, with the doector and two attendants, ;fifj
Klaine's body had been placed on a couel
covered by a blanket ‘and the shades Wy
drawn. The light fell on her pale face
There was something incongruous abol
death and the vast collection of scientifit™m
paratus, a ghastly mocking of humanity. How™
futile was it all in the presence of the gEreat
destroyer! e
Aunt Josephine had arrived, stunned, and &
moment later Perry Bennett. As I looked &t
the sorrowful party, Aunt Josephine rose slows
ly from her position on her knees where she
had been weeping silently beside Elaine, and
pressed her hands over her eyes, with every
indication of faintness. 1;,
Before any of us could do anything, sl fi
staggered into the laboratory itself, Bennett
and I following quickly. There 1 was busy for
some time getiing restoratives. e
Meanwhile Kennedy, beside the couch, with
an air of desperate determination, turned away
and opened a cabinet. From it he took a large
coil and attached it to a storage g
ging the peculiar apparatus near ine's
couch. *r
To an electric light socket Cralg attached
wires. The doctor watched him in silent wons
der 1 Toos B
“Doctor,” he asked slowly as he worked, “do
vou know of Professor Leduc of the Nantes
School of Medicine?” T
“Why—yes,” answered the doetor, “but
what of him?” & L
“Then you know of his method of m cal
resuscitation.” . o
“Yes—but"—— he paused, loom'tm¢
sively at Kennedy. ST
Craig paid no attention to his fears, but, ap
proaching the couch on which Elaine ~ AP~
plied the electrodes. “You see,” he explained,
with forced calmness, “I apply the anode here
—the cathode there.” bal
The ambulance surgeon looked on excitedly,
as Craig turned on the current, applying it to
the back of the neck and to the spine. = =
For some minutes the machine worked.
Then the young doclor’s eyes began to buige.
“My heavens!” he cried under his breath.
“Look!"” i
Elaine’s chest had slowly risen and fallen.
Kennedy, his attention riveted on his work,
applied himself with redoubled efforts. The
voung doctor looked on with increased wonder.
“Look! The color in her face! See her lips!”
he cried. i
At last her eves slowly fluttered open—then
closed. .
Would the machine succeed? Or was it just
the galvanic effect of the current? ‘The doctor
noticed it and quickly placed his ear to her
heart. His face was a study in a<ionishment.
The minuies sped fast.
To us outside, who had no idea what was
transpiring in the other room, the minutes
were leaden-footed. Aunt Josephine, weak but
now herself again, was sitting nervously.
Just then the door opened.
I shall never forget the look on the young
ambulance surgeon’s face as he murmured un
der his breath, “Come here-—the age of miracles
is not passed—look!” ’
Raising his finger to indicate that we:wera
to make no noise, he led 'us into the othai“%
room. : o
Kennedy was bending over the couch. =
Elaine, her eyes open now, was Jazing up
at hinv, ana a wan smile flitted over her beau
tiful face . M;
Kennedy had taken her hand, and as he
heard us enter, turned half way }“:'f"':-",
we stared in blank wonder from RKlaine to thi
weird and complicated eolectrical apparatus.
“It is the life-current.” he said simply. fat
ting the Ledue apparatus with {““”‘"
(Continued Next Sunday.)