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^MARCIN BARBER,
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SYNOPSIS.
The story opens with a scream from
Dorothy March^n the opera box of Mrs.
Mlssioner, a wealthy widow. It is oc
casioned when Mrs. Missioner’s necklace
breaks, scattering the diamonds all over
the floor. Curtis Griswold and Bruxton
Sands, society men in love with Mrs. Mls
sioner, gather up the gems. Griswold
steps on what is supposed to be the cele
brated Maharanee and crushes it. A Hln
■doo declares It was not the genuine. An
■expert later pronounces all the stones
substitutes for the original. One of the
missing diamonds Is found in the room
of Elinor Holcomb, confidential compan
ion of Mrs. Mlssioner. She is arrested,
notwithstanding Mrs. Missioner’s belief
in her innocence. Meantime, in an up
town mansion, two Hindoos, who are in
America to recover the Maharanee, dis
cuss the arrest. Detective Britz takes
■up the case. He asks the co-operation of
Dr. Fitch. Elinor’s fiance, in running
down the real criminal. Britz learns that
duplicates of Mrs. Missioner’s diamonds
were made in Paris on the order of
Elinor Holcomb. While walking Britz Is
seized, bound and gagged by Hindoos. He
Is imprisoned in a deserted house, but
makes his escape. Britz discovers an in
sane diamond expert whom he believes
was employed by either Sands of Gris
wold to make counterfeits of the Mlssion
er gems. Griswold intimates that Sands
Is on the verge of failure. Two Hindoos
burglarize the home of Sands and are
captured by Britz. On one of them he
finds a note signed by “Millicent” and ad
dressed to “Curtis.” Britz locates a wo
man named Millicent Delaroche, to whom
Griswold has been paying marked atten
tions. The Swami attends a ball at Mrs.
Missioner’s home, but learns nothing fur
ther about the diamonds.
CHAPTER XXI.
I ~
Stop, Thief!
Milllceut Delaroche slept soundly.
Hers was the type of beauty that re
tains its freshness through indulgence
in creature comforts. Not all her
fondness for amusement could lead
her to rob herself for many nights of
the repose she instinctively knew was
essential to the preservation of her
charms. She was the sort of woman,
past thirty, Who retains a false youth
sometimes more effective than the im
maturity which is measured by the
calendar. Her complexion was as
delicate as a debutante’s. Her eyes
were brighter than those of the aver
age athletic young woman, and no
silver thread shot the dusk of her
luxuriant hair. All this was due large
ly, she was convinced, to her life
long habit of sleeping early and
often, and of resolutely refusing to
let her slumber he disturbed by any
Buch useless things as dreams, which,
after all, are mere ghosts of thought
—and too much thinking was not one
of her foibles.
i Though Mrs. Delaroche slept pro
foundly, her external senses were not
wholly unvigilant. Long study of her
self had made her sensitive to disa
greeable impressions that were purely
corporeal; and so, though no intrusive
vision of mind could interrupt the
-fluid calm of her beauty sleep, a slight
ly uncomfortable feeling at the pre
cise spot whence her tresses swept
upward in an elaborate coiffure or
parted in the braids of negligee had
the effect of arousing her as no mere
dream possibly could have done. It
required not many seconds, allowing
for the habits of her mind, and the
fact that she suddenly was recalled
from deep repose, for Mrs. Delaroche
to realize there was a hand beneath
her pillow, and that hand was not one
of her own. Rigid with fright, she
waited an Instant to assure herself
she had not committed the innovation
of dreaming, then she made a swift
reach for the alien hand —too late. It
had been withdrawn swiftly in the
few moments requisite to complete
comprehension of the situation, and If
Mrs. Delaroche had not been so cer
tain that she never dreamed, she
might have thought she still was
sleeping. . Hasty exploration of the
Bpace beneath her pillow, however,
told her the midnight hand had not
gone away empty. Realizing that, she
was broad awake in an instant. She
sat erect so swiftly that she bruised
her forehead slightly against some
thing cold and hard and round and
smooth that was immediately pressed
menacingly to her head.
“Don’t move, or you’ll get this!*’
said a rough voice.
Mrs. Delaroche gasped, and despite
the hand, sank back again to-her pil
low. She could still feel, however, or
fancied she could, the icy rim of the
metal that had touched her brow.
This was a great feat of imagination
for Mrs. Delaroche.
“That’s right; lie still!” continued
the voice. “If you know what's good
for you.”
Rough though the voice was, it was
carefully subdued. It could not have
been heard in the corridor. Mrs. Dela
roche drew a deep, fluttering breath,
and was evidently on the point of
making another attempt to speak
when the metallic ring touched her
forehead again, chilling her to silence,
and the voice went on:
“See here, lady, I’ve got no time to
waste with you. Just you stay where
you are, and don’t make a sound, un
less you want to get this!” and the
metal was pressed a little harder to
her forehead. “I am going to get out
of this room quietly, and I’m going
right now. If you make any noise for
the next five minutes. I’ll blow your
head off!”
The cold pressure was removed
from her forehead, and the burglar
moved about the room. The thick
Carpet and doubtless the felt soles on
the man’s feet as auxiliaries, made his
steps soundless. He went from her
dressing table to a writing desk, light
ing each m turn with a vivid circle
of rays from an electric pocket torch.
but holding the Illuminating device
always in such position that no faint
est gleam fell upon himself. Not for
a moment, however, did he slacken
his alertness sufficiently for Mrs. Del
aroche to have a good chance to get
to the inner room. He pretended to
search thoroughly several places
where money or jewels might be
kept, but, even to a woman of her
slow wit, it was apparent he did so
in a half-hearted way. Millicent felt
assured the man knew just what he
had taken from beneath her pillow,
and that he was satisfied with it. He
showed that to be true when he gave
up the pretended search without so
much as trying the handle of a small
safe in a far corner of the room. Re
turning to the bedside, he renewed his
warning, throwing so much savage
meaning into his words that Mrs. Del
aroche was certain there was no pre
tense about that
Then he walked to the door giving
on the corridor, turned the handle
cautiously, thrust his head through a
second opening, and looked up and
down the hall. Evidently reassured,
he opened the door, stepped outside,
and closed it swiftly and silently.
There was not a sound to Indicate
whether he had'gone along the corri
dor, or still stood just outside the
door. Mrs. Delaroche waited, listen
ing intently in the hope of hearing his
footsteps, but she listened vainly. She
waited perhaps a minute, for she had
no desire to hazard a shot from that
terrible thing the burglar had pressed
against her brow. Then her courage
oozed back, and she bounded to the
floor, screaming with all her might,
pausing only long enough to snatch
a peignoir and throw it about her
shoulders ere she pulled open the out
er door of her suite and sent her
shrieks shrilling down the long hall.
Her cries, for she was a magnificently
constructed animal of most expansive
lung power, not only echoed far along
the corridor, but penetrated even the
sound-proof doors of the other apart
ments. The disturbance she made
was alarmingly novel to the exclusive
calm of the Hotel Renaissance. Doors
were flung open, heads popped out,
and a dozen inquiries were flung at
her from as many parts of the hall;
but Mrs. Delaroche had exhausted her
coherence in framing that one pur
pose of screaming with all her might
until some man of action should speed
to her assistance. She did not waste
any strength in articulation. She sim
ply screamed, and so eloquent were
her shrieks that although she uttered
no concrete word, only a few of them
were needed to tell the more intelli
gent of her auditors that she had been
robbed, and that what she had lost
was of priceless value to her.
Before the fusillade of her cries
died away in a scattering fire of
gasping sobs, half a dozen pajamaed
specters were racing down the corri
dor in the direction they deemed the
burglar had taken. What account
they would have given of themselves
had they come up with the fugitive is
conjectural. They were spared the
disagreeable necessity of submitting
their courage to that test, for as the
burglar turned a corner of the hall
many yards in advance of his pursu
ers, he was tripped by a foot adroitly
interpolated in his path, and when he
recovered his breath after a jarring
fall, it was to find two men of sturdy
build sitting upon him as composedly
as if nature had planned him for a
conversation chair. The pistol he had
carried in his hands throughout the
pursuit was snatched from his grasp,
and although he struggled furiously,
his arms were dragged behind his
back and handcuffs were snapped
upon his wrists. Then he was dragged
to his feet by four Insistent arms and
impelled with much vigor along the
hallway in the reverse direction to
that which he had followed.
Unmistakable was the rejoicing of
the pajama squad at the sight of his
captivity. Undeniably heroic was its
surge toward him. Faces grim with
postscript bravery were thrust into
the prisoner’s, and voices raging from
mockery to indignation bombarded
him with questions. All of which the
prisoner met with sullen silence and
with looks that made the squad re
treat a pace or two In spite of the
firmness with which his captors held
him. Mrs. Delaroche’s fading screams
guided the little group to her apart
ment, where the hands of ministering
angels had adjusted her peignoir to its
normal position upon her Junoesque
form and fastened its fluttering rib
bons in becoming bows. She there re
ceived the heroes of the man hunt
with astonishing composure.
“Is this the man who robbed you,
madam?” asked one of the men who
had caught the burglar. He was the
house detective. “Stand behind him,
Jim,” he said to his colleague, a por
ter With the fullback’s shoulders.
“It must be,” said Mrs. Delaroche,
“but I cannot tell by his face. I did
not see it. It looks like the man,
though. Make him speak.”
But that task was beyond the house
detective’s powers. Irresponsible
though his mind might be as com
pared with the city’s sleuth’s and blue
coats, he hardly felt justified in em
ploying the most medieval forms of
torture to accomplish that purpose.
Seemingly, nothing short of the boot,
the thumbscrew and the Iron Maiden
1 no t
She Was Broad Awake in an Instant
would drag a word from the captive.
He maintained his sullen silence, al
though it might be said he broke It in
away, for the furious looks he cast
at the pajama squad were almost audi
ble. Those looks caused several of
the squad’s doughty heroes suddenly
to realize the unconventionality of
their attire, and to send them precip
itously in search of dressing gowns.
One or two of them remained, how
ever, and the house detective, who, In
hotels as frostily patrician as the
Renaissance, did not often have an
opportunity to hold the center of the
stage, was fairly well content with
his audience.
“Now, then, you!” he said, brusque
ly addressing the prisoner, “speak up.
What were you doing here?”
“He got my jewels!” cried Mrs. Del
aroche.
The prisoner turned one of his sul
len looks upon her, but, conscious that
she was robed as daintily as the most
fastidious society actress in the Du
Barryest of bedroom-scenes could be,
her equanimity was not so vulnerable
as that of the deserters from the pa
jama squad.
“He took the whole case of jewels
from under my pillow,” she continued,
addressing the house detective. "They
must be in his possession still, unless
he dropped them while he was running
away.”
"We will soon find out,” said the
leading man. “Jim, go through him!”
Jim only shrugged those fullback
shoulders when the burglar attempted
to petrify him with a look, and his
search through the prisoner’s pockets
was thorough. Mrs. Delaroche gasped
her delight when from the captive’s
coat the porter drew forth a heavy sil
ver casket, and held it toward her.
"Is that your property, madam?”
asked the house detective.
“Yes, yes,” said Mrs. Delaroche, eag-
u —the Jewels Are Mrs. Missloner's.”
erly. “Oh, dear, I am so glad he did
not escape with it. What would —”
She checked herself hastily.
“You must come to me in the morn
ing, Mr. —Mr. — for a reward,” she add
ed in tones so sweetly suggestive of a
golden guerdon that the detective’s
eyes glistened.
“Thank you, madam, that is not nec
essary,” he replied perfunctorily.
"Let's see what else this fellow has
got.”
He and the porter explored the cap
tive’s pockets further, but found noth
ing more in the way of loot. Mrs.
Delaroche looked hastily through her
desk and dressing table and told the
man apparently nothing else was miss
ing.
“Then,” said the house detective, “I
guess there is nothing else for us to
do but to turn this burglar over to the
police. May we use your telephone,
madam?”
Mrs. Delaroche gladly nodded assent,
and the sleuth continued:
“Jim, call up Headquarters, ana
have a couple of men sent here to takd
this fellow away.”
The effect of that command upon
the prisoner startled everyone. Not
only did it cause him to break his sul
len silence, but it drew from him
words that made the house detective
involuntarily loose his hold on the man
and step back, staring. Jim’s jaw fell,
and Mrs. Delaroche gazed at the fel
low, wide-eyed.
“I can save you that trouble,” said
the burglar. "You need not telephone
for the Central Office men. I am Lieu
tenant Detective Britz of Headquar
ters! And these,” and he nodded to
ward the silver casket, “are the miss
ing Missioner diamonds that were
stolen from the richest woman in
America.”
"Turning to Mrs. Delaroche abruptly,
he said:
“Madam, how do you come to be in
possession of these jewels?”
All €he panting loveliness of Mrs.
Delaroche shivered as the sharp ques
tion bored its way to her inner con
sciousness. It was now her turn to be
silent. She looked at the Headquar
ters man as if he held in his hand her
life, liberty, and whatever chance re
mained to her of happiness. A gleam
of appeal glowed in her beautiful eyes
for a moment. Plainly, if she did not
speak it was not for lack of will. Her
words were as frozen as the normal
condition of her thoughts. She put
her hands to her breast and gazed at
the Central Office man as piteously as
a woman of her Junoesque charms
could be expected to do. The Ingenue
role was impossible to Mrs. Delaroche;
but had it not been so, undoubtedly
she would have asumed it in this emer
gency.
"Answer me, madam; this calls for
an immediate explanation. You told
this man these jewels belonged to you.
How does it come you have the dia
monds everybody In New York knows
as the Maharanee necklace of Mrs.
Doris Mlssioner?”
Mrs. Delaroche still struggled faintly
for speech. Her lids quivered; her eyes
alternately closed and then were fixed
upon the detective, and a tremor, be
ginning at the crown of her adorable
head, moveJ in waves to her perfect
feet. She sank into a chair and let her
head fall upon her arms as they
stretched inertly acrcss a little table.
There was no smallest streak of pity
in the look Detective Britz bent upon
her. He had dealt with women of her
type before many times, he told him
self, and now that he was so near the
heart of the great Mlssioner mystery,
it was not his purpose to be influenced
in the slightest degree by the distress
of a Diana, to say nothing of an Aphro
dite. Dry sobs choked the woman.
Her eyes strained at ther tendons so
painfully that tears would have been a
divine relief. Whether she was grieved
or frightened was not so apparent as
that she was sorely distressed. Min
utes passed before she lifted her face
and once more looked at the detective.
The house sleuth and his porter had
retreated a yard or more, and the
erstwhile pajama squad, now an as
founded force of Cossacks and Bedouins
in a varied array of dressing gowns
and bathrobes, looked and listened in
hushed expectancy.
"Come, Mrs. Delaroche,” said Britz,
sternly. “You really must not waste
any more of my time. I have spent an
hour in getting these jewels away
from you, and I don’t intend to put in
many more words in getting the facts
from you. You have got to answer
soon or late, and you may as well do
it at once."
If there was to be any third degree
in her case, the detective was deter
mined to apply it then and there.
‘They were given to me,” said the
woman faintly.
“By whom?”
“By—by a friend of mine,” she re
plied.
“And his naine?” inquired the detec
tive curtly.
“I do not care to tell his name,” said
Mrs. Delaroche, who had recovered a
little of her calmness.
"You must tell it!” Britz insisted.
“I cannot,” she said.
“But I tell you you must!” returned
the detective. “Don’t you see you have
got to tell it to square yourself?”
"What do you mean, sir?” she asked
with a pretty show of indignation.
“Now, don’t try any of those games
on me,” said Britz. In his impatience,
he was descending close to the meth
ods of Donnelly and Carson. He re
membered that in a moment and re
sumed more persuasively:
“It will save you a great deal of
trouble for you, Mrs. Delaroche, if you
tell me the truth, and tell it at once,
without holding anything back. You
understand, I am a detective from Po
lice Headquarters, and I was assigned
weeks ago to find Mrs. Missioner’s dia
monds. I have found the diamonds,
and now 1 must find the thief.”
Mrs. Delaroche shivered, and started
slowly to her feet. She turned a. dis
dainful glance on the group at the door,
then faced Britz once more, and in a
voice title more than a whisper, she
said:
“Whatever you may think, I did not
know the jewels were stolen. I did not
know they ever belonged to Mrs. Mis
sioner. I never heard of Mrs. Mlssion
er before tonight, except through the
papers. I did not know that any of my
acquaintances knew her. I was not
aware she had lost her diamonds.
What you tell me about the theft of a
necklace from Mrs. Mlssioner is en
tirely new to me. I seldom read the
papers, and when I do, I do not read
accounts of crime.”
"All you say may be true,” Britz per
sisted, “but you may take my word for
it —the jewels are Mrs. Missioner’s;
they were stolen from her, and you
must tell me the name of the person
who gave them to you.”
The beautiful woman’s distress at
this time was so sincere that the
Headquarters man involuntarily dealt
more gently with her. He urged her
to be seated again, and then for the
first time apparently remembered his
hands still were gripped by the bands
of steel the house detective had snap
ped upon them.
"Madam. I must Insist once more
that you tell me the man’s name,”
Britz said.
“His name?” she returned wonder*
ingly.
“It is Curtis Griswold, isn’t it?” said
the Headquarters man incisively.
Mrs. Delaroche, with a little cry
which showed more emotion than any
one would expect from so self-centered
a woman, sprang to her feet and ad
vanced toward Britz with hands out
stretched in protest
"You don’t mean to say that you be
lieve Mr. Griswold to be a thief!” she
exclaimed.
“We shall see, madam,” rejoined
Britz, “how successful he has been in
at least one robbery.”
“Inside this little casket,” he said,
"are jewels worth more than half a
million dollars. Please let me have the
key to this jewel box.”
Reluctantly, she unfastened a slen
der gold chain that hung about her
neck, from which depended a tiny sil
ver key. Britz^fitted it into the lock
and turned the bolt. Triumphantly he
seized the lid, and as everyone else in
the room focused eager eyes upon the
silver box, Britz opened it; then drop
ped it on the table with a furioue ex
clamation.
The box was empty!
CHAPTER XXII,
Hot on the Scent,
Britz bounded into the inner room
and made a quick examination of
every window. He found marks on
one of the casements that told hla /
practiced eye entry to the apartment <
had been made through the window
by some one skilled in daring burg
lary. It gave on the fire escape. Brita
flung up the sash and looked out- As
he expected, there was a long string
of ladders and balconies that ended
one story above the street. The fire
escape was at the least frequented
end of the big hotel, and an awning
threw a shadow from an arc lamp on
the globe big enough to afford oppor
tunity for an agile man to mount on
the shoulders of comrades, grasp the
second-story window and swing him
self up unseen. He let his eyes fall
on the balcony one story below the
window. On it lay something yellow,
crumpled as if dropped inadvertently.
Britz ran down the ladder and re
turned to the room with the object
It was an Oriental handkerchief such
as he had seen in the Swami’s pos
session. .
It was perfectly plain to Brita that |
the Hindoos had been beforehand
with him in recovering the Mlssioner
jewels. By this time he knew enough
to be certain that their object in get
ting possession of the gems was even a
stronger than the professional pride *
that had actuated him to recover them
for their owner. He was aware they
had a reason yet to be explained why
they were in such a desperate hurry
to take the stones of the necklace, or
at least one of them —the Maharanee
—to India. Even now they might be
aboard a vessel that would put to sea
in a few hours, leaving no trace of
their departure. Or, it might be they
were beyond the city limits on theii
way to another port of exit. »He
must stop them at all hazards. He
leaped to the telephone, called Police
Headquarters, got Manning on the
wire, and asked the Chief to give per
sonal attention to the request he wai
about to make.
“Notify all precincts,” said Britz
“to stop every man of Oriental apt gs
pearance attempting to leave the city
by boat or train. Have all the ferries
watched, and send a double detail to
the Grand Central Station. Telephone
the Associated Press for a list of the -
vessels about to sail today; have the *
water front watched for tramp steam
ers, and don’t forget the small craft
both sail and steam.”
"Have you found the jewels?” asked
Manning, at the other end of the
wire.
“No!” roared Britz, “but I will have
them in a few hours, if you’ll make
the bunch hustle to help me. Will
you attend to all this yourself. Chief?”
Britz found Doctor Fitch waiting
for him on the sidewalk, as he had ar
ranged before entering the apartment
of Mrs. Delaroche in the guise of a
burglar, and in a single word told ths
physician how he had been balked in
the chief object of his nocturnal visit
"Quick’s the word now, doc!” said
Britz.
“Where are you going?” asked
Fitch.
(TO BE CONTINUED.) t
Stirring the Melting Pot.
What is believed to be the first at
tempt by an agricultural college tc
teach immigrants coming to this coun
try, is said to give every promise oi
success. Ninety-five Polish farmers
from the Connecticut Valley, southern
New Hampshire and northern Con
necticut, gathered at the Massachu
setts Agricultural college to be in
structed in 'agriculture and good citi
zenship. The lectures were inter
preted by K. J. Wolski of Holyoke.
George Chapman of the department
of botany told these men of the neces
sity of getting good onion seed, this
being one of the most important crops
of the valley. He also showed ths
water and wind blast method of se
lecting the poor from the good seedd)
—Christian Science Monitor.