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L R,
THE HIDDEN HAND
Don’t Fail to See This Thrilling
Serial in Motion Pictures at the
Best Theaters.--The Cast, Headed
By the Beautiful and Talented
Doris Kenyon, Is in Keeping
With the Excellence of the Story.
SYNOPSIS.
Doris Whitney, heiress of Judson Whitney, coming to the library to meet
Rer father, finds him shot and a stranger who was calling on him also shot.
She calls help and the duing man accuses his secretary, Jack Ramsay of
shootimg him. Whitney dies and the stranger, who proves Lo be the (irand
Duke Alexievitch, speaks out. |
BY ARTHUR B. REEVE, ‘
Creator of the “Craic ¥~nnedy” mystery stories, which appear exclusively
Cosmopolitan ‘lagazlne.
EPISODE I
"'The Gauntlet of Death.’’ l
F LATT shook his head, turning to Abner, who happened to be;
standing by, and topping his forehead with his forefinger.|
‘“Nutty,”’ he mattered.
The stranger, however, was not so easily disposed of. He mo-‘
tioned feebly to his breast pocket, and Flatt reached in.
“Well, I'll be blowed!"’ he exclaimed, drawing forth a docu-l
ment bearing a royal coat of arms and a seal. ‘‘That guy’s right!”]
Flatt was now ready to pay more attention to the demand of
the Grand Duke that Doris be brought nearer to him.
“Would you mind, Miss, stepping over here?’’ asked Flatt,
trying hard to be polite.
For the moment Scarley stared blankly into the fireplace.
Verda had eyes only for Ramsay, while Abner fumed. Wonder
ingly, Doris approached. As she came closer, it seemed as if the
eyes of the Grand Duke would pop out of his head, not so much at
seeing her as at the strange locket she wore about her neck. Weak
ly, he stretched forth and grasped her hand, kissing it fervently,
In her tears, she tried to draw her hand away.
“Do not weep for Judson Whitney,”” hastened the Grand
Duke, eagerly. ‘‘He was not your father. You are my daughter.
You were born eighteen years ago in the Winter Palace.’’
Utt?mazement now soizeq' all in the room.
‘‘Listen—let me tell you my story—your story—the story of
that locket.”” il
With a great effort, propped up on the divan, the Grand Duke
The Other Woman
By Virginia Terhune Van de
‘ Water. ' |
: CHAPTER LVI. |
(Copyxight, 1917, Star Company.) ‘
JF I had expected Mrs, Hampton to
l show any change in her manner
toward me whan next we met 1
‘would have been mistaken. She was
Just as pleasant as she had ever
been,
Jack saw this, and, with a man’s
failure to go bheneath the surface or
dack of appearances, he took it for
granted that his mothet's manner
was indicative of an unchanged or
increased condition of loyalty be
tween herself and me,
But J, with my feminine intuition
and temdency to analysis, realized
that matters were not as they had
been before my mother-in-law’'s frank
talk with me. I noticed that she
asked me no questions about my pri
vate affairs. For instance, she never
inquired where we were going or
what we had on hand when I men
tioned that Jack and I had an en-
CUiiURA
Quickly Heals
ltchings and
Irritations
N
2 ‘
2
L’A‘. ‘
In the treatment of all skin
troubles bathe freely with Cuti
cura Soap and hot water, dry
gently, and apply Cuticura Oint
ment to the affected parts.
These fragrant super - creamy
emollients tend to prevent little
skin troubles becoming serious
if used for every-day toilet pur
poses. For sample of each
free by mail address post-card:
“Cuticura, Dept. F. Bos
ton.”” Sold everywhere. Soap
1 25c., Ointment 25 and 50c.
Follow “The Hidlen Hand’’ on This Page. Itl’s a Tl'z'rilltng Story of Adventure
THECRORGCIANS MACAZINE-PAGH
gagement for a certain time. Once or
twice she started as If to make some
inquiry, then tchecked herself and
flushed with embarrassment, I never
let her know that I had witnessed
this momentary struggle with her im
pulse.
Moreover, when I began, as I soon
did, to wear a few soft colors, she
made no comment. I almost wished
that she would, for I felt that at
heart she was wondering how 1 so
easily cou'd forget my sorrow,
Perhaps this was why, on the day
preceding the anniversary of my
father’s death, I told Mrs. Hampton
that 1. was going out to Woodlawn
Cemetery the following morning.
- "It will be just a year tomorrow
‘slnee my father died,” T explained.
| “Yes,” she said, “I remember the
date. And, by the way, dear, T am
going to ml(e the liberty of order
ing a few flowers sent to you early
itomorrow morning. Perhaps you
-would not mind carrying them out to
\“'odlawn with you and laying them
on your mother's grave? She was
’always most kind to me—and T was
fond of her and grateful to her.”
‘ “Thank you,” I rejoined. “It is very
good of you to propose doing this—
\but reaily it is not necessary.”
I did not intend to rebuff her, yet
for a moment I felt as if her action
had been a bit officious. My sorrow
was my own. Why need she intrude
upon it?
A Pretty Thought.
I was ashamed of my petty and un
generous thought-as I saw the look
that came into my mother-in-law's
face. It was the look that might have
come to the face of a child who had
meant to please someone, and who,
instead, had done the wrong thing.
“l knpw it is not necessary, my
dear,” she acknow!edged apologetical
ily. “And I do not want to intrude.
Perhaps you would rather that no
body sent flowers out there tomorrow
execept you yourself.,”
“Oh, no, 1 did not mean that” I
began, but she interrupted me with:
“As it will be the afml\'ersary nf
your father's death I can understana
that you will probably want ng blos
soms put on his grave except those
you bring. RBut I thought that, &s vou
were going to Woodlawn anyway, you
might not mind taking a dozen car
nations with you and laying them
on your mother’s resting place for
me."” -
l “@f course 1 would not mind,” I
assured her.
‘ She was silent for a moment and
then remarked: “Come to think of it,
it was a bit inconsiderate of me to
%y
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‘Doris and her uncle listen to her dying father accuse Ramsay of shooting him.
began to speak as the others, too startled to interrupt, listened. la baby, there was at the court a man who was my mortal enemy.
‘“Eighteen years ago,”’ he began, to Doris, ‘‘when you were!His name, you may have guessed---Rascon, the Mad Monk, who
A SERIAL OF !
INTIMATE APPEAL |
ask that of you, “wasn’t it? If you
have to carry your own box from the
florist's it is a good deal to ask you
to carry one from me, too.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” T insisted. |
When I was ready to start from
my home at 11 o'clock the next morn
ing my mother-in-law’s flowersg had
not come. I telephoned to her board
ing house to ask shout them, but was
Informed that Mrs. Hampton was out
and would not be in before noontime.
Well, it was no fault of mine that
her gift had not arrived. 1 was at
heart a bit relieved that I need not
carry her gift all the way out to the
cemetery.
~ When T reached my section in
‘Wnodhwn 1 started with surprise to
see lying on my mother's grave a
sheaf of beautiful carnations. There
’were a dozen of them, and they were
of the color that Mrs. Hampton espe
clally admired. Had she been here
ahead of me?
There were, no flowers on my
father’'s grave and I arranged there
those I had brought with me. Then,
before leaving, I looked once more at
the carnations. How could 1 ascer
tain whether Mrs. Hampton had
brought them herself, or had sent
them? -
An idea occurred to me. Jack's
father was buried in Woodlawn, My
husband and I had visited his grave
together. I knew the way to the
Hampton plot. It was not far off,
and I walked there rapidly.
The Problem Solved.
|~ The probiem was solved whan I
| rerched the place I sought.
' In the section there was but one
| grave, that of my husband's father.
On it was laid a number of exquisite
roses. It was evidont that the wldovq‘
had been here and to my section
ear'v this morning.
When -§ saw Mrs. Hampton again
‘I thanked her for the carnations she
had left on my mother's grave.
“You went to needless trouble,” I
told her, “for I would have been glad
to carry the flowers there for you. I
hope you did not imagine I would ob
ject to doing so?
The words may higyve sounded like a
chal'enge, but her veply disarmed me,
“Oh, no, dear, but I decided to go
myself to my own plot that morning,
so I just took the carnations at the
same time.”
“I see,” 1 said meekly.
It would have been petty to be re
sentful. It would also have been posi
tively unkind to appear ungracious.
Yet in my heart I was not as grate
ful as I tried to seem.
(To Be Continued.) :
- Teacher—-A Short Story |
By AGNES LOUISE PRATT.
TACHER was lonely. With the
T exception of Johnny Seely, the
scholars had all gone. It was
nearing the early sunset of a ){ovefn-
Ler day and the country was sparsely
settled. She was “waiting out” a bad;
fit of. Johnny’s, until he could—or
would-——spell “cantanlerous” correctly.l
Johnny was in no hurry. So she
took the little piece of newspaper out
of her pocketbook again and read it.
There were only a few words. Buti
they were balefully fascinating to her,
“MARRIED, in New York City, on the
18th inst., Mar\y Elizabeth, daughter
of Mr. and Mrs. Rverett Wir{wood. and!
Francis Blake.” . : ‘
Teacher looked up. The light was
fading fast in the little schoolroom. !
“Johnny, are you ready with the spell
ing lessons?” she asked. 1
“No, ma'am.” Johnny winked ai
beady black eye at an iinaginary con
federate. He meant to stay her out.i
“Why not?” “It's getting dark and 1
can't see the book, ma'am.” |
“You may go over to the window—
and study.” “Yes, ma'am.* Obedl-‘
ently Johnny rose and -carried hfisi
book to the window. Teacher sighed
once, sadly, and returned to her con
templation of the clipping. “
She had read that first, many miles
from the little New England vmage.}
where she had come to lose herself, to
bury her heartache, if she mlght.i
Many miles, too, from the great olty{
where the wedding had taken place.
It had come.as a climax to the love
liest summer of all her life—the sum
mer when, in her Waestern home,
Francis Blake had wooed and won
her. He had come to her native city
cn a business trip; had gone away
betrothed to her. Letters had come
ever¥ day at first. Then a strange
silence had intervented. She had
written; but there was no reply.
She had waited till waiting grew
unbearable. Then had come this mar
riage notice. And she understood.
Heartbroken, she had sought out some
relatives in the far East. She had
come to them for solace, to bury her
identity in that of “teacher,” as she
was called in the little village.
“Teacher.” As if in echo of her
thoughts Johnny's voice shattered the
stillness. She glanced up. Johnny
had risen and was standing on his
toes, his eyes bulging. “Teacher!”
he called again, snapping his fingers
excitedly.
‘“Well, Johnny ?" Teacher’s patience
‘was exhausted. She looked for some
trifling diversion now. “What is it?"
TUESDAY, NOV. 27, 1917.
She dropped her eyes again. “A’ots
termobile. An’ it's broke, an’ tl}gy’te
comin’ up the path. Can I go home
now?” ¢ )
Teacher came to ‘the window. Saw
the disabled party, oné man attend
ing to the trouble; a woman in ex
pensive furs, and another man com
ing up the path toward the' open
outer door of the schoolhouse. “Yes,
Johnny,” teacher remarlfed, ‘“‘you may
g 0 now.”
She knew wild horses couldn’t keep
him from participation in the scene
out there, and her will was powerless
to hold him. The strangers had in
terrupted the session anyway, so his
heels went clattering out through the
entry just as the strangers came to
ward the old box stove, snapping with
a good wood fire.
The young woman walked quietly
into the room. The man halted near
the doorway. Teacher hardly noticed
him. ¢
“Oh, how splendid!” She was hard
ly more than a girl whq spread her
hands to the grateful warmth. ‘“May
we stay a minute? The machine
broke and it is s 8 cold. Then we
saw the, door of the schoolhouse
open. “You - are the teacher?” she
broke off suddenly to ask.
“Yes,” and the teacher saw as she
opened the collar of her fur coat a
pretty face and twin sparkling eyes.
“We are on our weddimg tour,”, the
girl explained, though Teacher asked
no questions. “My husband is out
there with the machine.” She laugh
ed heartily. Then she turned te the
man in the doorway. “Come over
here, Francis,” she called, “isn't" it
funny 7 7
What she was going to say was
never recorded, for the eyes of
Teacher and the stranger met. She
gasped “Francis,” and he—he was
pale, ill looking. He answereg sim
ply: “Helen, I was ill, following an
accident. ‘Wo one had your address
and when I came back,” he smileq,
“to earth you were gone.”
“You know each other?” The little
bride grasped the situation instantly.
She solved the whole mystery with a
single sentence. “My husband’'s name
is Francis Blake, too. They're
cousins.”
She seemed to know, by intuition,
what, was required to untangle the
mixup and supplied it. e
And when the other Francis called
from the doorway, “All taut and sea
wofthy now,” Francis Blakefi the un-,
married, stayed behind—with Teach
er. . ;
A Wohderful Serial by the Famous
ARTHUR B. REEVE
Nights With Uncle Remus
" LXVlll—Brother Fox Makes a Narrow Escape.
By Joel Chandler Harris.
HE next time the little boy had
T an oppdrtunity to visit Uncle
Remus the old man wag alone,
‘but he appeared to be in good spirits.
He was cobbling away upon what the
youngster recognized as "Tildy’s Sun
day shoes, and singing snatches of a
song something like this: &
“O Mr. Rabbit! yo’ eye mighty big—
. Yes, my Lord! dey er made fer ter
see;
‘'O Mr. Rabbit! yo’ tail mighty short—
Yes, my Lortg hit des fits me!’}
The child waited to hear more, but
the song was the same thing over and
over again—always about Brother
Rabbit's big eyes and his short tail.
}fter a while Uncle Remus acknowl
edged the presence of his little part
ner by remarl!ing: ”
“Well, sir, we er all yer. Brer
Jack and Sis Tempy en dat ar 'Tildy
nigger may be a-pacin’ 'roun’ lookin’
in de fence-cornders sere Chris-mus,
buds me en ‘you en ole Brer Rabbit,
we er all yer, en es we aint right on
de spot, we er mighty close erroun’.
Yasser, we is dat; mo’ speshually ole
Brer Rabbit, wid he big eye and he
short tail. Don't tell me ’'bout Brer
Rabbit!” exclaimed TUncle Remus,
with a great apparent enthusiasm,
“'kaze dey aint no use er talkin’
*bout dat cgetur.” >
The little boy was wery anxious to
know why. 5 ’
‘“Well, T tell you,” said the old man.
“One time dey wuz a monst’us dry
season in de settlement whar all de
creeturs live at, en drinkin’-water got
mighty skace. De creeks qot low, en
‘de branches went dry, en all de
springs make der disappearance
‘cep’'n one great big-gn: whar all de
creeturs drunk at. Dey’d all meet gar,
dey woul,q en de bigges’ 'ud drink
fus’, en by de time de big uns all done
swaje deér thus (1) dey wa'n't a drap
lef’ fer de little uns-skacely. )
“Co’se Brer Rabbit 'uz on de happy
side. Es anybody gwine.git water
Brer Rabbit de man. De creeturs 'ud
see he track 'roun’ de spring, but dey
aint ney’ keteh 'im. Hit got so atter
w'ile dat de big creeturs 'ud crowd
Brer Fox out, en den 't wa'n't long
'fo’ he hunt up Brer Rabbit en ax
'im w'at he gwine do.
“Brer Rabbit, he sorter gtudy, en
den he up'n tell Brer Fox fer ter geo
home en rub somse ’'lasses all on his-
/ Rez;d It Here Each Day. Then—
SEE IT ON THE FILM
' WHO’S WHO IN THE NEW FILM.
DORIS WHITNEY ..:.e.vvviveeeecess. . DORIS KENYON
D SEATMT . . ivvoninnstheoniussnnsdonsiisss RN Lo Wh)
Verdß OIS .. ... ivovsnneresessssnasanioes cIRIEVOLEN
Jack Ramsay ..............'.................Mah1nHami1t0n
ruled the Asiatic Church, as he called it, and kept the weak Em-
peror in fear of him. :
“On the day that you were bern.
there came to this demon a plan to
avenge himself on me. Before .the
Emperor and Empress, this Rascon,
surroundegd by his satellites, pretend
ed t 0 go into a trance, in which he
ptofiessed to see visions of the future.
“I'here, in his evil mind, was born
the terrible thing that has happened
to us. In this false trance Rascon
made his fatal prophecy: ' :
““This day there is born in- the
palace of the Emperor a girl baby,
who will become the most beautiful
woman in the world, who will cause
the Emperor to go mad with love for
her, and accomplish the destructi
of the empire before her eighteen(txfi
birthday.’ ! T |
“Rascon chanted this prophecy in a
low drone,” continued the Grand
Duke. “As he finished, the weak Em
peror was very frightened. I looked
at the Empress. She was actually
enraged and jealous. $I knew that it
ivas my own child that the Wd Monk
Short Items of Interest
Tasmanian Mammals.
There is a species of mammals in
Tasmania the rfi‘males of which lay
eggs from which the young are
hatched like the young of birds. This
mammal, the echidna, is perhaps of
the lowest order of mammals, and is
a kind of connecting link between
mamuials and reptiles. They . are
about the size of a baby porcupine,
are covered with strong spjnes set
:g;ckly all over their skins, ‘and by
vy of a nose they have a slender
and narrow beak of white horn. The
echidna has very long, sharp claws,
with which it digs a deep burrow. In
this burrow it builds a nest for its
young and deposits one or two eggs,
which are enclosed in a stroftg flex
ible shell three-fourths of an inch in
length by two-thirds of an inch in
diameter,
. SN .
A Critic’s Blunder. .
Jan Hay, the famous authot of “The
First Hundred Thousand,” tells an
amusipg story against himself. It
{se‘f en den go out en waller in de
leafs. Brer Fox ax w'at he mus’ do
den, en Brer Rabbit say he mus’ go
down by de spring, en w'en de cree
turs come ter de spring fer ter git
dey water, he mus’ jump out at um,
en den atter dat he mus’ waller lak
he one er dem ar kinder varment w'at
got bugs on um.
“Brer Fox, he put out fer home,
he d&w en w'en he git dar he run ter
de cubbud (2) des gawm his hisse'f
wid ’lassex;. en den he went out in de
bushes, he did, en waller in de leafs
en trash twel he look mos’ bad. ez
Brer Rabbit w’en he play Wull-er-de-
Wust on de creeturs.
“W’'en Brer Fox git hisse’f all fix
up he went down ter de spring en
hide hisse’f. Bimeby all de creeturs
come atter der water, en w'iles dey
uz’ a-scuflin’ en a-hunchin’, en P
pushin’ en a-scrougin’, Brer Fox he
jump out’'n de bushes en sorter switch
hisse't 'roun’, en, bless yo’ soul, he
look lak de Ole Boy. ok .
“Brer Wolf tuck'n see 'im’ fus’, en
he jump spang over Brer B’'ar head.
Brer B’ar, he lip back, en ax who dat,
en des time he do dis de t’er creeturs
dey tuck’'n make a break, dey did, lak
punking rollin’ own hill, en mos’ ’fa’
youk’n wink yo' eye-ball, Brer Fox
had de range er de spring all by
hisse'f. S
“Yit 't wa'n’t fur long, 'kaze ’fo’ de
creeturs mov'd fur, dey tuck'n tu'n
‘roun’, dey did, en crope back fer ter
see w'at dat ar skeery lookin’ varment
doin’. Wren dey git back in seein’
distuns dar 'uz.Brer Fox walkin’sup
en down switchin’ hisse'f.
“De creeturs dunner w’'at ter make
un 'im. Dey watch, en-Brer Fox
march; dey watch, en he marcl{. Hit
keep on dis a-way twel bimeby Brer
Fox 'gun ter waller in the water, en
right dar,” continued Uncle Remus,
leaning back to laugh, “right dar ’'uz
whar Brer Rabbit had ‘'m. Time he
‘gun ter waller in de water de ’lasses
'‘gun ter mielt, en 't wa'n't no time
skacely 'fo’ de 'lasses en he leafs
done all wash off, en dar 'uz ole Brer
Fox des ez natchul ez life.
“De -fus’ Brer Fox know 'bout de
leafs comin’' off, he year Brer B’ar
holler on top er de hill:
“‘You head 'im off down dar, Brer
Wolff en I'll head ’im off 'roun’ yer!’
“Brer F'ox look 'roun’ en he see all
de leafs done come off, en wid dat he
make a break, o & Wa'®'t aone too
L
/
[Coest R et R
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W e I O B AT,
e
meant. And even as I prayed for
mercy, the Emperor threw me aside
and begged that rascally Rascon to
tell him what he should do. His
only answer was to contings Ahis
weird chant until finally he fell
swooning on the floor. I knew that
all was lost.
“The Emperor himself raised Ras
con from the floor and revived him.
There the fate of the child was seal
ed. I begged, I besought, I prayed.
It was all of no avail. The Emperor
waved his hand to two of the Mad
Monk’'s satellites, who rushed off tm
tear the baby from her mother.
A moment later they returned with
the innocent little thing. Pleading
was useless. I was sent into exile,
The Grand Duchess never recovered
from the shock. She died that very
day. And from that day to this X
have never seen my daughter.”
(To Be Continued Tomorrow.)
seems that after his great war book
had brought him popularity his pub
lishers received some of his earlier
stories and republished them. They
were well received, although the au
thor regarded them rather as ama
teur efforts. But a critic in New
York waxed enthusiastic over them
and congratulated him on his im
provement as a writer since the pro
duction of his popular book. -~
- - v
The Gnat. .
The gnat is but one of many species
of mosquito. Altogether there are no
fewer than thirty-five described as
natives of Furope, while as many as
one hundred and thirty different va
rieties are found scattered over tha
rest of the world. Of this large num
ber, sorgf are known by the Spanish
name mosquito—that {is, “little
fly”"—while otherg are given the title
of “gnat,” but from a scientific point
of view there is no ‘difference be
tween the insect known under these
different names,
soon, n'er, 'kaze little mo’ en de cree~
turs 'ud 'a’ kotch 'im.”
Without giving the little boy time
to ask any questions, Uncle Remus
added another verse to his Rabbit
song, and harped on it for several
minutes: : §
“O MTr. Rabbit! yo' year mighty long—
Yes, my Lord! dey made fer ter las’;
O Mr. Rabbit! - o' toof mighty sharp—
Yes, my Lord! dey cuts down
grass!”
(1) A'ssuaged their thirst.
(2) Cupboard.
(Copyright, 1881, 1883, 1909 and 1911,
by The Century Company; 1883, by
Joel Chandler Harris: 1911, by Esther
La Rose Harris. ALL RIGHTS RE
SERVED. Printed by permission of
and by special arrangement with
Houghton Mifflin (‘:mpany.)
Tomorrow — Brother Fox's
Fish Trap.
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