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BARBER,
JEULU^ITIS ATTO®KIS ^Y«AE^'
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SYNOPSIS.
The story opens with a scream from
Dorothy March In the opera box of Mrs.
Mlssloner, 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
sloner, 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. Missioner. She Is arrested,
notwithstanding Mrs. Missioner’s belief
in her Innocence. 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 or Gris
wold to make counterfeits of the Mission
er gems. Two Hindoos burglarize the
home of Sands and are captured by Britz.
On one of them he finds a note signed
by "Milllcent” and addressed to "Curtis.”
Britz locates a woman named Milllcent
Delaroche, to whom Griswold has been
paving marked attentions. The Swami at
tends a ball at Mrs. Missioner’s home, but
learns nothing further about the dia
monds. Britz disguised as a thief, visits
the apartment of Milllcent. He finds a
box that once contained the missing dia
monds, but It Is empty. The detective
concludes that the Hindoos have antici
pated him in the recovery of the jewels.
He visits their quarters and has an ex
citing experience with a snake.
CHAPTER XXll.—Continued.
True enough. The fifth bullet had
passed between the gaping jaws of
the reptile and taken off the greater
part of that darting scarlet thread
as neatly as a sharp instrument could
snuff a candle. While the wound
doubtless caused agony to the snake,
it did not lessen its anger. The poi
son-charged fangs remained in its
mouth, and the cutting off of its
tongue swelled its fury to the ultimate
degree.
Britz dropped the pistol on the chif
fonier and thrust both hands in his
pockets.
' “Up a tree for fair,” he said. "Noth
ing more doing in the artillery line.”
"That was your last cartridge?”
Britz bent his head affirmatively.
An expression of slow wrath gathered
force in the Headquarters man’s face,
as he stared at the swaying serpent
such a short distance below. One
could see he was angry enough to
take the desperate chance of spring
ing from his perch and trying to
strike the cobra with his heels, or,
failing that, seizing it by the neck,
seeking to throttle it. The Instinct of
self-preservation, however, was
stronger than rag?. Britz was willing
enough to risk his life in the fulfill
ing of his duty, so long as the risk
meant a fighting chance to him. He
was too sensible absolutely to throw
his life away, and something told him
that in spite of all the courage In the
world, no man would have an appreci
able percentage of opportunity in a
battle at close quarters with so ven
omous a serpent. Yet he must get
out of that house. He felt he was the
only man on the police force who
could be sure of heading off the Ori
entals. In that very moment they
might be beyond the city’s limits,
bearing the booty he had pursued for
weeks. It was more than his self
poise could stand. He gave rein to
his anger, and for the first time in all
the doctor’s acquaintance with him he
swore hard and fast and long. His
flow of profanity stopped as suddenly’
as It had commenced. He drew one
hand from his pocket, and slowly, as
If he hardly dared to trust his senses,
held, up his fingers and looked at what
they clasped. Then he held the ob
ject out triumphantly for the physi
cian to see. It was a loaded cartridge
forgotten when last he emptied his
pockets of their supply of extra am
munition!
“We’ll make no miss with this one,”
Baid the sleuth. "Don’t you think you
can use It better, doc?”
“No,” said/Fitch, “I am not in your
class when it comes to snuffing out
serpents’ tongues. You may fire when
you are ready, lieutenant.”
Britz grinned, shook the empty
ehells out of the revolver, slipped the
full cartridge Into one of the cham
bers and twirled It until it paralleled
' the /barrel. Then, once more using
his arm as a rest, he took careful aim,
and was about to pull the trigger,
when the door was flung open and the
uniformed policeman stood on the
threshold.
“Well,” said the bluecoat, “excuse
me for butting in, but I thought some
thing might have—”
Fitch checked him with an upraised
hand, and the patrolman’s eyes al
most burst in their sockets as, lower
ing his gaze, he saw the up-reaching
death covered by the Headquarters
man’s pistol. For a second’s space,
none of the three men moved. Then a
metallic click broke the suspense,
only to leave it in another instant
more taut than ever* as all three re
alized the cartridge had missed fire.
The bluecoat’s hand reached for his
club. Panic-stricken though he had
been at first sight of the cobra, he had
the pluck common to the humblest
i member of "the finest,” and he plain
■Lly meditated taking the serpent from
■the rear. He would not trust to his
Bbfcalver, lest his aim, spoiled by the
Bisity of the situation, should fly
■fraud hit one of the two refugees
Khe chiffonier. But Britz saved
the patrolman from what would un
doubtedly have been a foolhardy act
of courage. Hastily breaking his re
volver open, he made a swift exam
ination of the cartridge, saw that its
rim was not dented by the hammer,
and, concluding an accident for which
the shell was not to blame had pre
vented an explosion, set the chamber
once more, and fired again. This
time a crack followed. The great
cobra shot into the air, and then fell
squirming to the floor. Its colls un
bent as at full length It writhed in its
death agony. Britz leaped to the far
side of the table, seized a heavy book
and hurled it on the serpent’s head.
That soon ended the reptile’s strug
gles; but the doctor, brave enough un
der ordinary conditions, was not con
tent until with a daggcr-like paper cut
ter he snatched from the table he
severed the snake's head from its
twisting body.
Britz, Fitch and the patrolman took
deep breaths as they stood on the
porch. The detective lost little time
in recuperating, though, and after hur
ried Instructions to the bluecoat, he
and the doctor jumped into the coupe.
The uniformed patrolman climbed to
the box, turning the horse’s head
westward. He drove the weary brute
at high speed to a taxicab stand,
where the detective and physician en
tered a horseless vehicle in which
they were whirled to Headquarters,
where Britz had a short but impor
tant conference with the Chief.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Mrs. Missioner’s Visitor.
Mrs. Missioner, after the ball, took
in the fag-end of a bridge party, and
stayed so late that when she returned
to her home the east; was striped with
dawn, and the maid who had waited
up for her was sleeping soundly in a
chair. The widow was not yet dis
posed for slumber. It had been an
exciting night. Her fancy had been
stimulated so greatly by her brief
talk with the Swami in the ballroom
that she was unable to turn It from
the mysterious Oriental history of
the Maharanee diamond. She knew
no more of the jewel’s past than she
had related to the sage, for her hus
band had not acquainted her with all
the details connected with his acquisi
tion of it. Something in the Swami’s
manner caused her to regard the stone
with more or less aversion. She be
gan to doubt the purity of its record.
Fond though she was of gems, even
to the point of being a jewel worship
er, she was American to her finger
tips, and would shrink In terror from
any bauble that came to her stained
with the tiniest drop of human blood.
She had loved her husband In a
way; at any rate, she had always re
spected and admired him. It seemed
impossible he would be a party to
wrongdoing. Yet she could not shake
off a sensation of dread whenever she
remembered how intimately the jewel
had nestled in the snows of her throat,
and rivaled the brightness of her eyes.
Could it be she had worn a gem whose
fire was more suited to the glow of an
inferno than to the Eden of a good
woman’s loveliness?
Drawing about her shoulders a soft,
warm shawl, she took a seat at a win
dow in her boudoir and sat gazing into
a sky pink and gray with daybreak,
trying to solve her real feelings in
regard to the recovery of the Mahara
nee diamond. She was in the midst
of her meditation when she heard the
faint ringing of a bell at the other end
of her big house. In a little while,
a footman rapped on the door of her
boudoir. It awakened her maid, and
the girl, her eyes swollen with sleep,
approached the widow with a card
bearing no name, but inscribed with
the message:
“It is important that I be permitted
to see you at once.”
At such an hour? Mrs. Missioner
was astonished by the request. Who
could her early visitor be? Surely no
one in her own circle of acquaintances
would venture upon such a liberty. If
it were a question of life or death,
there was still the telephone. Secre
cy was indicated by the attempt of
the person to see her face to face.
Haste breathed in every word of the
scholarly scrawl. Mrs. Missioner was
not ultraconventlonal, but the request
for an interview at that time of day—
an hour that almost might be called
a time of night—was beyond the scope
of even her liberal views. However,
curiosity conquered, as It has been do
ing in the cases of women, jewels, and
apples since the world began, and she
informed her maid she would see the
visitor in the library.
She controlled her eagerness for
understanding of the request, never
theless, so well that when in a leisure
ly way she reached the big room on
the main floor, the visitor was already
within it. He stood at a window look
ing into a street and shielding him
self behind a curtain from chance
glances. As his head was bare, it was
not until the second glance that she
recognized the Swami. She was not
only astonished, but startled by the
recognition. What could this mysteri
ous student of the occult want with
her? What could possibly be the ob
ject of his visit to her home at such
an hour? He was an old acquaint
ance in a sense, but one Mrs. Mis-
w
J)
A Metallic Click Broke the Suspense.
sioner had not cultivated in this part
of the world. j
He waited until she was close to
the hearthrug before he turned, and
said with a profound bow:
"Madam, my intrusion is excused
by the fact that I can restore your
jewels.”
“Is it possible!” she exclaimed.
“It is more than possible. It Is a
fact accomplished,” he answered.
Taking from an inner pocket a pack
age in silk tissue, he extended It
toward her with the words:
“You will find in this parcel, madam,
all the diamonds of your necklace,
with the exception of the largest—
the Maharanee.”
“But the big diamond of the whole
necklace—the Maharanee!” cried Mrs.
Missioner. “How did you find these
and not find that?”
“I have not said that I did not re
cover it,” said the Swami. “On the
contrary, I confess to you that I
gained possession of the Maharanee
at the time when I got these; but it
must not, cannot, be restored to you.”
“I am grateful for what you have
done,” the widow said gently; “but I
am unable to understand your atti
tude in regard to the missing stone.
Why should I not have that, too? It
is mine.”
“Madam,” said the Oriental, In the
courtliest way, “I would not for the
world say anything to disturb your
faith in your husband. There is no
need of doing so. Your faith Is war
ranted. Mr. Missioner, when he said
that, thought he was telling the truth.
Unfortunately for you, as well as for
many others, he was not speaking the
truth. The renegade who sold that
jewel to your husband did not buy it
from a Maharanee. He did not buy it
from anyone. He stole it!”
“Stole it!” the widow cried, with a
little wail in her voice. “Impossible!”
“Pardon me once more, madam. It
OTP
i-»l
j I r
Il I W
IL J Av®
Mrs. Missioner Did Not Wonder.
is so far from being impossible that
it is the strict truth. Nor was the
theft the only crime of which the man
was guilty. In stealing that jewel, he
committed a dreadful sacrilege.”
Mrs. Missioner was so overcome by
her emotions that she was obliged, in
spite of her intention, to sit down,
and therefore to extend to her visitor
an invitation to be seated also, before
she could get herself well enough in
hand to follow the Swami’s narrative
calmly.
“That diamond,” continued the sage,
"once blazed in the forehead of the
great Buddha, in the Temple of Delhi.
It was revered by thousands, hundreds
of thousands, by millions, as the most
sacred work of the god; for tradition
says it was the undisputed property
of Buddha himself when he walked
the earth in his latest incarnation.” ■
Mrs. Missjoner’s lips were parted.
Her eyes were fixed upon the Orien
tal’s in the intensity of her interest.
“One night,” the sage went on,
"when a band of militant priests as
signed to guard the shrine of Buddha
in the great Delhi .temple relaxed its
vigilance, a sacrilegious wretch —on
whose head be all the curses of all
the centuries! —made his way into
the heart of the sacred building, and
wrested the diamond from the brow
of the god. That he was not blasted
in his tracks by the lightning of divine
wrath proves that the mind of the
god at that moment was shrouded in
meditation for the benefit of his chil
dren. The stone was missed at dawn.
Within the hour, armed men were
scouring the city for the apostate
thief. No trace of him was found.
The Maharajah of that kingdom, lax
though he had been in certain ob
servances of the faith, was too true a
•son of the Temple to let the careless
priests go unpunished. By his order
they were seized, a hundred of them,
and thrown into prison. A royal de-
cree was promulgated, the effect of
which is that none of those unhappy
captives is to see the light of day un
til the diamond Is returned to its place
tn Buddha’s forehead. The temple
was draped In the mourning colors of
the east, and those colors still, deck
Its lonely walls. No true believer’s
foot may be seen within Its portals
while the great stone Is missing. The
brethren of the priesthood languish
In dungeons, hoping against hope that
Buddha may manifest his mercy by
causing the gem to be regained and
replaced upon his brow. Untended,
unworshiped t the god sits upon his
throne within the shrine, waiting for
the restoration of his own.”
Mrs. Missioner was thrilled by the
narrative. She was somewhat at a
loss, however, to account for the depth
of the Swami’S interest in the recap
ture of the great diamond. Until he
unfolded his story further, she did not
know how personal that interest was.
“How does this affect you?” she
asked. "Why should you be at such
pains to find and restore the diamond?
And to return these other stones to
me?”
“You will need no further explana
tion, madam,” said the scholar, with
utmost courtesy, "when I tell you that
the priests who lie In that Eastern
prison are my brethren.”
“But how is it you are not among
them?”
“By a special dispensation of mercy
on the part of the Maharajah,” he an
swered. “When five years, as you
count them, had flown and still the
diamond was missing—when all the
other servants of the kingdom had
searched India, the rest of the Orient,
and even Europe for it, His Majesty
relented far enough to direct that
the imprisoned priests choose one of
their number to girdle the earth in
quest of the stone. I, being the young
est of the priesthood, was selected for
the task. For the priests themselves,
though prisoners of woe, are more
concerned to have the stain wiped out
than to return to the world from
which they have been exiled. They
chose the youngest that the searcher
might have as long a time as nature
permitted to carry out the quest.”
The Swami paused an instant, and
then continued:
“So you see that not only do a hun
dred human lives hang upon the re
turn of that single jewel to the place
whence it was stolen, but that the
faith, the religion, the very hope of
eternity of millions of persons, are
equally dependent upon it. Until the
gem gleams again in Buddha’s brow,
no prayer for redemption can be
breathed with any hope of response
in the most remote part of the
Maharajah’s kingdom. Can you won
der that I would sell life itself to
achieve this task?”
Mrs. Missioner did not wonder. She
clasped between her hands the packet
containing the other stones of her
necklace, and gazed dreamily into the
fire.
“What is it, then, you wish?” she
asked. “What can I do for you? Is
it a question of a reward?”
“Not in that sense,” said the Swami
quickly. “I want no recompense for
returning to you that which belongs
to you. Those stones are yours. It
would be as wicked for me to keep
them, according to the light of my
faith, as in the moral intelligence of
yours. But I do want a reward in a
way. I ask your permission to return
to my native land, and I request that
you cause all further efforts to re
cover the big diamond to end at once.”
“How can I do that?” inquired the
widow.
“The matter Is now in the hands of
the police. You can say truthfully
to the police,” the Swami replied,
“that your diamonds have been re
turned to you; that you are satisfied
with the explanation of their disap
pearance that accompanied their
restoration, and that you wish all
further activity on the part of the
authorities to cease.”
“I will consider it."
"I trust your consideration will not
cover many hours," said the Swami,
rising. “If you come to a decision
quickly and a favorable one, you will
avert a very strong possibility of
bloodshed."
Mrs. Missioner started.
“The Maharanee diamond, as you
call it, is in the keeping of my col
league,” the Swami continued. "That
man Britz, the detective from Head
quarters, who has been most active
in the hunt for your necklace, is close
upon his heels. It is impossible for
my comrade to escape from the city
unless you express a desire to have
the police cordon now surrounding us
withdrawn.. He will not give up the
jewel while he retains the slightest
spark of life with which to fight for it.
And neither will he stop at what your
phase of civilization would call mur
der, if it becomes at all necessary for
the defense of the stone.”
A little shudder ran through Mrs.
Missioner.
“I will come for your decision at
nc/on,” said the Swami. “It is the
safest time for me to pass through
the. streets, as they are then at their
busiest. Think well upon my request,
if you please, madam. Let not the
sacred stone go back to its shrine with
Western blood upon it.”
CHAPTER XXIV.
Britz Shows His Hand.
Following the talk between Brits
and Manning in the office of the chief
of detectives, the lieutenant hastened
to his own room, where Fitch was
awaiting him. He excused himself to
the physician and entered a telephone
booth at the far end of his office in
which he was accustomed to conduct
his more private wire conversations.
Through the glass of the silence parti
tion, Fitch saw the detective’s eyes
sparkle as he listened to what the
man at the other end of the wire was
saying. While Britz still was talking.
Manning came in, glanced inquiringly
at the doctor, and settled himself in
a big chair as if for a further and
more protracted interview with his
able lieutenant.
“How does it look to you, doctor,
now?” said the Chief of Fitch, eyeing
him closely meanwhile.
“It looked for awhile Jis if we had
run into a hornets’ nest,” Fitch an
swered.
“Pretty exciting experience you had
uptown, eh?” The Chief laughed.
“Well, just a little,” said the doctor.
“One doesn't expect to encounter a
cobra in a well-regulated biown
stone front.”
“Think the hunt is getting any
closer?”
“Britz seems to .think so. His opin
ion carries weight with me."
"No doubt, in your mind, ha will
catch the thief, then?” asked the
Chief.
“Thief, or thieves,” said the medical
man quietly. “I am convinced he will
run them down soon or late, if they’re
anywhere on the face of the earth.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Britz inter
rupted, coming out of the booth.
“Your confidence is not misplaced.
The thieves are as good as caught
now.”
Manning looked up with an air of
surprise.
“Yes,” continued Britz, addressing
his chief, “I’ve just been talking to
Gordon. Had him out all day on a
special trail. Turns out to be the right
lead. We know where the second
batch of thieves can be found after
the next hour or so.”
"Where are they?” asked Manning
eagerly.
“I’ll take you to them, Chief,” Britz
replied. “If you don’t mind. I’ll ask
you to wait a little whiie until I can
do so. Meanwhile, let’s gather up the
loose ends.”
“Do you mean you have solved the
Missioner mystery?” Fitch inquired,
trembling slightly as he reflected
what the answer might mean to the
woman of his heart.
“There isn’t any mystery now,"
Britz responded cheerily. “There
hasn’t been any in my mind for sev
eral hours.”
“Let’s have it!” exclaimed the Chief
impatiently.
Just for an instant Britz stiffened
under his excellently controlled ex
terior. He believed in discipline. He
was known favorably to his superiors
from the commissioner down for the
obedience and respect he always
showed them. But there lurked be
neath his departmental sense of dut)
the independence of a man who fell
he could always stand on his own two
feet, and that he could work alone, if
need be, to accomplish the most diffi
cult task. His impulse of revolt last
ed scarce a second’s space, however,
and with a military salute that per
haps was meant to remind him of
Manning’s rank, he slid into his re
volving chair and looked intently at
first one and then the other of the
men. who waited tensely for his
words.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
How Artificial Furs Are Made.
The raw pieces are frozen and th)
skin carefully shaved off, thawed an{
send to the tanneries to be made into
leather. The frozen fur which re
mains is allowed to thaw slightly at
the bottom, so that a small part of ths
hair is freed from ice. This thawed
portion is then covered with a solu
tion of rubber, which is allowed to set
The result is that large seamless
pieces of fur are obtained much
cheaper than those which come with
the natural skin. These same artifi
cial furs are said to be more lasting
than the real, because they are im
hune from the attacks of moths.
Dumas’ Quiet Rebuke.
During Victor Hugo’s exile, Dumas
went to Guernsey, where Hugo re
ceived him kindly, and took him to
breakfast on a veranda overlooking
the ocean. It did not take Dumas long
to discover that Hugo was already
posing as the proscribed prophet, and
when the poet said, with an Olympian
wave of his hand: "You see me, my
dear Dumas, on my rock of exile like
the proscribed one of antiquity.”
“Never mind,” said Dumas, with his
mouth full, “the butter is far better
here than in Paris. There is no dis
puting that.”
tn His Own Defense.
The Prisoner at the Bar—Now, 1
asks yer, gents of the jury, if I’d
got away with all that swag, like
they say I did, d’ yer s’pose I’d have
hired this here little sls lawyer f
defend me? —Puck.