Hutchinson’s Story Magazine, Jul 1919

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If IPLIHG R HODES V 5v <r. Stacpoole r Ilatau ABNES AUMONIEB UAHVICE

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ADVERTISEMENTS The Wonders of the World TpOR twopence a day you can po->se> -1- of the most beautiful and fascinating fine art books ever published. This book is "THE WONDERS OF THE WORLD," the marvels of nature and man as they exist to-day. Never before has such a wonderful idea been brought to such perfection Here you have over 1.000 beautiful pictures, selected from nearly 1 .000.000. and =S beautiful coloured plates, showing the world's most wonderful sights, with letterpress written by the most famous traveller.. The Living Animals of the World One of the „,„,, notable things in rrgacrf to l«oks during the la*, few years ha. been. The cm.rm.«i« incr«i«r ,D the demand for Natural ItiMory books. xeopie are just beginning to realise th.- immense plea-ore which 15 open to all who »tudy ihe Animal Kingdom. . "THE LIVING AXI MALS OK THE WORLD" ? one °\ lhc grtat book, of the world. A verv Kreat ?.'.T,;.I.-,".S..?rau,i'ul "'"""■■o..». In the' faces of TflE Ll\ INi; ANIMALS OKTIIE WORLD" photography j, UM:j on a nci cr enuallni in sny previous publication Without sirainmg worts, it may Bt ■Mid i hat subjects photo-iaphed bat* been obtained from every part of the World. mar>y of THE TAJ MAHAL The photographs took over five venrs to collect, and come from all parts of the world. The two laigc handsome volumes are printed throughout on the finest quality art paper, an J arc beautifully bound in half morocco leather elaborately gilded. "The Wonders of the World " has been translated into almost every European language, and about a quarter of a million copies have been sold— a fine testimony as to its great fascination. It is a standard work for every home. Wr.tc to-day, enclosing A penny vamps to cover postage, and we will you FREE list fir* 40 p»g-» and a coloured plate piloted on ait papei worth is. IT IS SURE TO PLEASE YOU The STANDARD ART BOOK CO., Ltd. Dept. 1 1, 30.32. Ludgote Hill. E.C.a fear them from the most distant i-lands of Die Souilsrrn raiely lilocked in Gold. Send 6 penny stamps to c,«er p «age. and we will send you r REE 40 Si-rime,. I 'age. and 1 Coloured Hate, printed on Art Pa,*, .nd wwth at lea- Is. The STANDARD ART DOOR CO.. It J. t»e?'- l>. 3o-3>. Ludzate Mill. C.C.4

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ADVERTISEMENTS l The Art of Story Writing Unique Course of Instruction (by post) «■*ed for the London Correspondence College by the following famous authors: Sir Arthur Quii.LER- Covch ("Q"). Professor of English Literature at Cambridge ; Mrs. W. K. C..IVFORD; Mr. W. B. Maxwell; Mr. W Put Ridok; Mr. Charles Garvice ; and Mr. Newman Flower (Editor-in-Chief of Messrs. Cassell and Co.). The Course teaches would-be writers not only what they want to know, but what Editors want them to know. Through his own work in connection with the lessons each student's ability is discovered and developed ; he is shown how to achieve a practical mastery of style and technique and how to make the best use of any talent he may have (or writing stories — the demand for which has never been so great. The instruction is conducted entirely by corre- spondence at a moderate fee. Separate Courses are also provided in Journalism. English Composition, Literary Training, Verse Writing, and Mental Culture (Logical Reasoning). Application should be made at once for Prospectus— post free from The SECRETARY THE LONDON CORRESPONDENCE COLLEGE 23. ALBION HOUSR, NEW OXFORD STREET, LONDON. W.C1. Oxuv of the 6t*t- L£3 wt1Ur» aitramnii "blainab'& TWv «r» mmOm m Saarland, of TMlitT uliml Of Hnttab ' mtm lb* MBit of ont a) 79*rm upvruroaa id p*n oitanlsciur*. OoM ■>« TWO ?,"T, ff^KJ22*- fznfii THREE : V^JTUri.'TSrT--*' Jt^Z-£ FOUR »• - . • ' b. i • FIYF. J ri ik> o> 4 lor erctn /ton— EDWIN TURP1N & CO, LTD., D.pt 262. I •.II. LUDCATE IIIU- E.C4.

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aovi:t\tisi.ments NEURASTHENIA (The Twentieth Century Disease) NATURE'S OWN CURE. Medicines and drugs, diet iieaimenu. c serosa, and *M curat" ban alike proved in capable of, or only t>srt*l!y and temporarily successful in, ovri coining this csmuitioo. Soiall uonder, then, thai the neurasthenic despairt of a cure" — regard* himself or herself aa incurable. Neuraatbinia arise* from lack of Nerve force. The only method of restoring I oat Nerve force U to recharge the system with Klcctricity, the natural force secreted in the sir we breathe, and which in itself is scarcely distinguishable from Nerve Force. For years tbe difficulty of the Scientist and the Physician has been to find a means, at once cheap, convenient, and comfonablo to the iiatient. of employing this ,ieat vtiali*- fait natural fotce. Until the Fulverrruchcr EJecirological Treatment over-ante these objection*. Electrical Treatment sraa far loo costj t too coinhroas ar,u loo much confined lo expensive hearer* Is 00N T HESITaTC MAKE UP TOUR MIND TO INVESTIGATE THI PUIVERMSCHER ELECTRIC TREAT TO-DAY. and irruitutiom for any but a very rich minority. INDECISION NOW MAT COT TOO A LIFETIME OF IlL-NEALTH AND MrTEmNQ. WITI FOR FREE PARTICULARS TO-OAT. ELECTRICITY — THE NATURAL CURE. To-day the I'ulvermarher Treatment Wings il in it* beM foim within the reach ol all You can carry on this most Mccrssriul form of Electrical Inutascni in your own home. You can wear the Piilvernuscaer Electrical Appliance* at work or ai play. HAVE YOU ANY OF THESE SYMPTOMS ? If your nerve* ate weak or disordered, if your limt» tremble. If you have numbness or nerve pains, if you are inclined to brood over your affairs, if you are nervous, timorous, and timlecided, if »oo worry over trifle* and few f r the futnse. if your memory and will are weak, if you lack self-confidence, sf you feel crushed and choked in a railway carriage or diwed turns, If you leal duty in open iboroticldam or nervous among; a crowd — these are ail ympt-umsj ear Iff* •hoard not Ic ne elected. A Tree Book, entitled •* A to Health and Strength.' detente* bow the svonderfwlly lurceaafitl Pulvcrmacher Iflo Ituluainl Treatment cores s|sjsj|y and permanently Nsnftaattrsuna. Nervous llyipepsia, Nervous Disorders, aud the rruuiy functional lioabHe due lo lack ol Nerve Force. INQUIRY COUPON. By peeling ibis Fill FORM TO-DAY >aB will receive the "ClfllM* To His; 1 it anp Si>' »i i»." wtucb has po-niad the way aucT»*siully !• uWsssssnrfs. \ ski i.'i*-* youreelf under n°..^\[*ti^J^b^^^*J.'^ lta and particulars of the I'uins eVsTMf ^•~v- — — — 4ssVUll Pail l* Ida Raaenalrnecal, PaKtrtuiftssr Btttn latlllatt. Us)., IW. Vakai flemw. t>. li«;ate Itlll. I' I l.t. Hirrcai '•*»»!■'• Srosrv •t<cal eCea. Mao THE ELECTRIC CURE IS POPULAR As Pleasant as It is Effective It is grand to put on an electric battery whi!*T lying down resting, and feel its exhttar.iiiof influence in every nerve and muscle. The'* is no inconvenience attached to it in anfl way. One hour's daily application is sufticieafl There is not the slightest shock or irntatMN but a gentle, soothing warmth that goes direq to the nerve centres- That kind of electriciff cures, and the cure it gives is permanent. People will sometimes try an ordinary hatted (made, no doubt, for commercial purposes), <S a shocking current, which irritates the nervel ;tnd conclude that elect: icity is not suitable- It will not do any good in that form. TV current must be given without shock— withe** irritation of any kind— and in this » ay the v»i; weakest individuals can be built up. No one is too weak to use electticity. I such cases a longer building-up process is I quired. But the results arc just as certain water is to extinguish fire when applied »*1 sufficient quantities. If a proper battery*! used it is possible to supply a very stroH current, free from all inconveniences. Mo* murh more pleasant it is to be cured in iWR way, while resting, than to be pouring niefl;' . inc into the poor, weakened stomach, untiM is impossible to do without it. This drug h.ib*l grows on one like the whisky habit; and nfl wonder, as alcohol forms the chief ingredient of many preparations. it is simply adtiinff more poison not stop it? Rheumatic Lumbago, S weakened st< to the weakened organs. Wli; those crippled irn Gout ; the victim * Ineys, liver, bowels, o bladder ; the person with the shattered nervou system, and suffering fcofn Paralysis. Epilepsy Neurasthenia. Insomnia, or Neuralgia, shouli seek a restoration to health in the electric cure Don't say, " It might not do me any good !j It will do you good if you resort to tbe rig means. It will cuie you. There is a book for free distribution among readers of Hutchinson's Sionv MACAZDn which covers tbe subject fully. You should ; be without it if vou are not in possession of pat] feet health. It tells tbe cause of weakness an4 can be gained.^*! remedy know? Battery. Tb"J I with the book-j the "Ajax" Dry-Cell J history of many cases is It costs )ou notnmg to get it. Write at once t* The British Electric \al#~ tute (Dept. 171) (Ajax Ld.;, 25, Holboro V*jj duct, London, E.C.I, and you will receive W return post the most valuable book ever p**1 lished on die subject. It is sent m a plaj* scaled envelope, together with full informali* concerning the DietUMtM, free.

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ADVERTISEMENTS 1 A BIG STEP FORWARD ■IN It is in your own power to make or mar Your Future, the all- Important factor being to take up the right course of training— NOW Hard on the heels of ended hostilities, the business world is pulling itself together for a mighty effort to overtake the lost progress entailed by years of war, and now is the psychological time to start training for one of the many big positions which will be available during the period of Reconstruction. In order to establish your*elf firmly in life you should select a profession which is iodUpcnsahlc to the community. and'whtch affords unlimited scope for energy, enterprise, busines. capacity and real «B*tu : one that is not overcrowded, or affected by fluctuations of trade. The training provided hy the M KTKOI'OI.ITAN COLLEGE— IM "Vanity at m,~,frtrt Aooottatanoy training leads the way to a career satisfying all these essential require! for yOfl the road not only to the monetary succe»s o( the bu»inea man, but also to " status" which is so much valued by the professional man. Such a training Is open to you, without serving unrlcr articles, without payment of any premium, and at almo*'. negUrible expense. For instance, the Specialised Postal Training provided by the METROPOLITAN COLLEGE at boun. ha yoar apara Uma — will speedily enable yon to become a Prwc«i*u>( Acroxnu.'il Municipal Accountant It paves, inletinab'.e Work* Accountant CoM Accounlr.nl Auditor or - ... r - • . i . Com pu i Soereuu-y Private Socrotary ■womTu Export Co.t«tr.ft.rM« ate or to select from innumerable other good openings, subdivisions of the very wide range of vocations grouped under the general term of Accountancy and Secretarial Appointment*. No important undertaking— whether a large private firm, limited company or pontic body —can carry on. Irrespective of "booms" or " slump*," without the rkilled assistance which the Metropolitan Coll«vr naming will qualify YOU to render, and thcrefo.evou ennfo ""-'11 decision than to write to-day (a postcard will Miffice) for the I TOTEM" 5 a'JIOE FREE AND POST PAW and particulars of the splendid I'riic and Scholarship Scheme. \ou wiU be under •o obligation.* 5PF.CIAL FEATURES: I fhe Collrte preomi* mors* awccaaaritl can - dldatea for the ntnteuiooal Accooauars* tad Secxetarlea* ■■■niiatliiw Umh Mr etner tralnlna contre tn the British leleo, , nannt hishl> qualified Ac.ounlancs and Secretarial Stall tn the klnfdoea. mm- priMac asany Vmal Honomseaea and lUmwn > The Amass mom ™*"«. be paid by ejuy inMaanaeaa 4. r tee AptninimrMt Bureau I nd may. if deauarf, on .uodikod. The College provides the most valuable «wrae of study for every person (of either sea, t*tween the ages ol |6 and 6o) desirous of Obtaining rocerss in Accountancy. Secretaryship, Banking, or any other sphere in the world of B«M<ne»s. A NEW CAREER FOR WOMEN. " Accountancy is undoubtedly one ol THE professions of the present and the futar* for women." — A Woman Accountant in the "Star." Send to-day for ihe FREE GUIDE METROPOLITAN Dept. 91, ST. ALBANS.

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4 ADVERTISEMENTS London County Westminster and Parr's Bank Limited ESTABLISHED IN I S3S Chatrna* I WALTER LEAF. Esq DeputfCliairmn i SIR MONTAGU TURNER. R. HUGH TENNANT. £■* AUTHORISED CAPITAL - SUBSCRIBED CAPITAL PAID-UP CAPITAL RESERVE .... £33,000,000 27,333,960 6,830,990 7,430,086 31*1 DtCWItH. 1111. C.fr*«i, Dasesll »ao otkar AosmhH* ttt>,tl7.7t1 CuA m Hmd ladit link of Cajl*a« . 47,471. 104 Moasy at Call mi Sbart rlstlca - St.l7t.1ft atvaacss ««« Blfsraata • • . •14l.ft1.t12 Head Office : 41, LOTH BURY, E.C.2. ./ortif C«rr«/ Mamertn: F. J. BARTHORPE. J. W BUCKHURST. J. C ROBERTSON. Foreign Branch Offica : 82. CORNHILL, E.C3. ANTWERP BRANCH .... 41. Ae Meir. SPANISH BRANCHES : Barcelona : h Cmi. s* 10. Madrid . Can.* AieaU«3. AFFILIATED IN FRANCE: London County & We.1min.ler Bank Pari.\l PARIS : - 22. Place Vendome. BORDEAUX i 22 ft 24. Conr. de riotendance. LYONS : 37. Rue da la Republique. MARSEILLES : - 31. Rue Paradia. AFFILIATED IN IRELAND: - . uw Bank Limited. All CtltMl on lb. UUtcr B»»V wffl b. eolWt«J for C«to. ■ of tttla Hank, Ira. of Commission. T/ia San* /< represented by BrmmcheB or Agenf Im mil the PrlaclpMl Ctllet mad Town* of Ike United Klmgdam mud hmt Corrtipondente Ihr-art'.ur the World. OXtCUTOR AND TRUSTEE DUTIES UNDERTAKEN. In 3 months' time I you could play this at sighi Think what it mean*, lo be able to »it down at the piano, to open a difficult and hitherto unices of music and to play It off at once without hesitation, with absolute confidence and without a wrong n As « rule Ihi* state of proficiency is only reached after years at patient practice and stody. Bat TIIELWALL System has been worked out so scientifically that the mind is trained alone certain and its Irtent faculiie* are brought ooL One half hour s daily study mideT the THELVVALL St a will make you a rapid and infajhtile right-reader in three months, eren if yo« orry have a small krtowae&fl of Mask previously. The THKLWALL Sy»iem. moreover, is highly spprored by the leading raofjeatf" Of the country, including Mr. Landoo Ronald and Dr. Borland. It will cost yoa nothing to know I •bout ihis *)ttem, for on receipt of a poatcaid »c will send y<ju a Booklet, " HOW EVERY hASlS MAY BECOME A RAPID SIGHT-READER,- free of all charge. Send your application v* THE STANDARD ART BOOK CO., TH EL WALL Dept. lO. 30/2. Ludgate Kill. London, LTD*!

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ADVERTISEMENTS When oorrtQon<? is Coming io Tea. One packet of Edwards' Lemon Ginger Cake Mixture makes 18 most delicious TEA CAKES without Sugar, Eggs, or extra flour. Ready to eat in 15 minutes. The 18 dainty Baking Cases enclosed in each packet are clean to use, and give an additional attraction to the table. ^ull directions printed on every packet. Sold by all Qrocen and Stores. G. T.EDWARDS Co., EH. 7%» Per Packet

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ADVERT1SE3JEXTS Wear SENT FOR ? Ambron Health Corsets (See Coupon \ below) | Mr. Ambrose Wilson's scientifically porfoctod Corset bringa now tljjuro joy from tho first moment of waorln(. It can be secured toy owory Woman who fills In and sends to-day the Coupon below with I .. The full price or the Ambron Corset It only 8 II, but all I ask Is that you send me a poital order for I/-, and by return of pou I will send yon a pair of Ambron Corieu that will fit you like a glove. Perfect com fort, figure correctness, Ideal ■upport, and grace ef line are their outstanding merit*. THE greatest bargain that ladies can secure to-day is the Ambron Health Corset. Its beautiful, graceful line* gise a new note of dis- tinction to your figure. It lets iff your frock to the bat possible advantage, and more than all rs the soft yet strong, pliant yet firm support it will gi»e you during every moment of the day. Every woman «iil appreciate, too. the convenience of purchasing by simply filling in m In the imports tu matter of fitting frrfeetly over every inch of its surface, the Ambron Corset gives you complete and lasting satisfaction. Make sure of this most important pan of your diess by ordering the Ambron to-day. Its lines are natural lines- It cannot cramp or restrict either vour breathing or your movements. You simply send your measurements as directed below and thus secure the Corset that must have been your ideal fee years. Mr. Wilson says : " Every day 1 receive numerous letters from ladies of all grades of society telling me how their health has been improved by •.imply wearing ray Ambron Corsets. If/ew feel run down and out of sons, and in need of sustaining and agreeable support, then try what wr.inng my Ambron Corsets wih\do for you." HOW TO ORDER Simply write your full name and addre» on a piece of paper, fill is correct mrauremrnu oo attached coupon ; cut ool and pin coupon lo ih» paper, and pou 10 ""itU saott isapareaat that you draw in lines rigai across the toat.1 order thus ; /. snd asak. ll payable to > AnibrweWllaon, Ltd. , as Genera Pmt Office. Twvlon. N,.Ti.-Forei.n and Colonial Order. avaU beaccoopukd by tbe fall wont and i/6 e«ra lo pay for postage. w»J- COUPON To stcurt prompt attention to order, this Coupon must toe cutout and sent with your letter. Pleas* •end me an A rob™ Corset on approval, «ue as follows :— „ Blast.. Size of Waist Alio full printed pankuuua. 1 eodoaa Vt "f*!**? «*■ 3a' 1 return Corset. I will pay job ibe balance, of Till either urn l«rv!i. I will pay you in* oaianoa l>la prlvala mtUial in tan add laaeial . .,>..•■ wtihcut vlolanl •••ralau. without auoaratua. ha »i «*»oa m—nnalag "HlrSfcaaa ■ Sio«i M«k.' » Sad cades* ltd. at.au- ic t-ataaps JOHN EDISON. Ltd. *7. Great George Street. WHY WEAR A TRUSS? MARVILLOUI NEW METHOD which has cured thousands without operation. Gives Instant relief. No sprints or lumpy pads. Write for FREE TE«r .nd Booklet 1.E BRASS EUR SURGICAL MFG. Co. Ld. iter St.. Blrrr.lna.ham Dept. R. P . 0Oa02. W a> DUTTON'S SHORTHAND" 0 IW »>=ajt|««C tl(t>*Vf*d n««aaaU •>,». 4 ttaVtfl lfltt«a(ll to *am- Th» c i ii tat fry en 14 mctptn* fca Ai torn p*t v-it*. Tbe mw Mtwm C—rt cm* 4lM.ce. w ft-—. ptm+d taVi mmmAmt* if Cm i n m — r tar-tee* tid ■r^attei ■ h« •*««■> ine* M M»r%' awl kMl fcHaai Mp «mMb ■ii ngmifcm n i rn i iw> a r> » >f adat Dun— wrta-ar w • I i eta fall IIW l-Tl fl ■ I H»l1 " T~ T~-* - J- T-RTah ~Tf Mlttaaal •MM, fj (W BWa-fBt^aB iSMIialalA b«*aak.ka«. *' AB 4aM I -orteare ShPWtMDBtt.- afMldM ankU-MI. Ill—A. «a-tBC«>Ml • tfh Ml— i net— ii «f Us- r^tfjn*,--,. ^ d A**.* eaf «lM Cl n— if OtT-c* K-min*. CofTwaaorv^t r%o»» MTTTOrS BL' SI. HESS COLLtGt tOti* 1« SKEdNEU (UetW If— ft.. nA f> O— fca—# iawita. WX 1-)

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ADVliK TIMvMLNTs HEALTHY WOMEN B>u« wear Curset wear " healthy " unab. Mid I He " Natural Eih " t ■ the matt healthy of alL Every v. earn say* While moulding iho figure lo the mott delicate of feminine 41 ace. ihey vastly improve ihe health. THE CORSET OF HEALTH The Natural Ease Corset Style 2. 8/11 pair. Putaxt «W extra Complete with Sptc^al Drtechabie Stocked in all sixe>. from 20 to 30 Made in finest quality Drill. SPECIAL POINTS OF INTEREST. Ho benu or iteeli to drag-, hurt, or break. "0 lacing at the back. Hade of strong, durable drill of finest quality. With special suspsndsrs. detachable for Washing purpose*. ■( Is laced at the sides with elastic cord to expand freely whan breathing. U Is fltted with adjustable shoulder straps. It has a short (t Inch busk In front which •nturea a perfect shape, and It fastened at the top and bottom with non-rusting Hooks an J Eyes ■t can be easily washed at home, hating nothing to rust or tarnish. Wear the "NATURAL EASE" Corset and free yourself from Indigestion, Constipation, and ■ cores of other ailments so distressful to Women. lease Corsets are specially reccenaieiated foe ladle* ■ho n.-ay cydiog, I aril SI, dancing-, golf, etc, aa 1: • ■ 9 nothing to hurt 01 break- Sinters, Acuca.es, and laval.ee wiil find wotnlerfel assistance, as they .ruble «hess to breathe with perleet freeJ j». All •onwn, •specially housewives, and those er«|doysil ia occupe- tssaa eVrsnaeding cov-uant ■c'le'il. appreciate tlie * Natural Ease Corsets. They yield freely to every *x»emaa'*■ *»/ etew»> tmUKmtb tM4> iral aiikm.: rataa, *stf #»;n.«#J «/ «ft»*e/'«. t'OfVWt "How to Ma** M*lkCT wratk fOu !*•*«" aW |M VC»« Lost, w hit much IntvtvttiBf; sasftuwltwi n art-raft pvticadn of rr actlcal C fir pond* ma COlllHI t>r •VUsTsMsWa ■IHt • 1{>WteMM P*3 I wntori. I l Lb . NL'WS COURSE . *CJ a o Inciuaiva fM for both CourstM. JE3 9 0 Vn 'ha** »msvxln«t« low f*«* . •taiBwtWn in f.tfj liiintf iMtnl-1 to f>u.t»i4 Wok hifftam iiitt. »- l Caah la l\ • i « MaCatsWtrtlMl tn ITM durtttg lis* If «; .tabV MflS. »r*>'P!s*t*dft?r_ p»id ImmtdiiUlf «n acca, _ I'ndcr H* im rutiicJi rltcn in*ny '«-_a»r» tarn trig ■on.* Whlia Lurnlnl ■ 0«tk r»c«.»inj« ** thm ■=*■«»■ iwtsnfhl T.!utl«nt\ wittsT* — "t ha*a 10 ta-snk you fot fba ordat for • *«rrW« of •rt****,°**5"f* "(Of M Claim rUm Ed.ln *f Llryifi M+r****t I t.**« wwl IM - Corr»«i*onde?i>c« (run* Le-*cr» fir-we-tlir^^ •■laabsV*. iM Mtt "tartwd by vrbutf nn 1 bvffn duna rmj mveh man iK«" for I ifiik>^T*iti« lo - Bdltarial «."Ujw TraJnlng ■Ohool. SB, Chancery L.n., London. W.&l THE BENNETT COIXEGE EaUb. 1900 WE TEACH BY POST Aviation Shipbuilding Slootrlclty Mining; Engineering Matnematloa Draughtantanihlp Civil _ ■eflsr InapoctlnK Marina KnglneertnK Motor Engineering Wlreloaa Telegraphy Strnotnrwl Englnoerins Sarroj Ing * LereUlng Archltoetnrsl Drawing Bnlldlng Consjructlon Clork of Works Dulles Strnctnrea In Concrete 41m Care* re for W. M el If roo think of undying any cm of tbtac Trade, or explaining oar method, and larass. MENTION WHICH SUBJECT uiid send two penny .team* to covet postage. Please Stats Your Agr. • i r aerv >/rW a mrf Dt?*'tm**J "4 mr* p*9P~*'+J U (rsvl Aei oaastsii s all ito sVassrAaa. *tfh *' " . U., .1 ~rr. *# - A~W a— »Vr «/ <UX^»» H .r~sVn(i »»/, srvtf »» a. '/^ ' ™ ^Uarw»< fUGHT CAfTA-tJ. .1 THE BENNETT COLLEGE, Dept. IV.

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EYEBROWLIN EYELASH AND CVCBROW GROWER I -i.ii improve your appelrance by using this nuiicLmi Trituration * Ii n perfectly harmless and not a dye. It uacd and recommended by many famous beauties at (he Court and leaden, of fashion. "EYEBROWLIN" producer that dark and fascinating expression which is so be- ' ••'»"•.:. "> ladies. A few applications will convince yuu of "•• merits. Sent "i plain covtr for 1/.. Send to-day I/- p.o. to Manaiorou, JEAN BINET & OO. (De.pt. »7>, 34, STRAND, LONDON, W.O.2. Why Be Too, Fat Regain Your Health and Beauty and reduce jcrcr weight quickly by com* mencipg the never-failing Antipon treax- mcBt NOW. It baa x8 yean' reputation, and ia the on'y lafe, sure, and pleasant // „ remedy for over-stoutness. No change of '/ «■«. but a redaction of I on. to j lbs. in a single day and night. Sold by Boo:. (jgo brancbea). and all Chemists and Storea the world over. Price 8 - and 6>. or, privately packed, direct from The Antipoo Co. (Desk 7»>. ay, Store Street. London. W.Ct. WHY NOT YOU ? Others, including many famous l>eauues and actresses, have ac- iiuired a beautiful fall bust and pe*ch-*iu( skin by using " flr- m ansae," the famous aecret preparation. \ firw days' trial will tonish and convince you. Why not start to-day t Send 1/- I'.O. (or u stamps) for supply under plain cover to Manageress— JEAN BIHETACO.iDepl.tj. a« Strand. London, w.c.x. Thai is what you can actually do if you use tbst wonderful eyebrow and eyelash gruwej . EYELASH EI NE: Perar-cvcrinjc tian will rail Ions, aud In pphcauon ot this unique ptcpura- s your eyebrow* and eyel-u-he*. tilfcy. troiis, and the admirulion of youf friend* mad relatives. SmdV- t*-*ay fcr a box nf " EVBLASf IB/SB* E5ME CER.SE. B-sforslSuaw* Are you satisfied with your Piano Playing? No Drudaery. No Palis u a. Failur* Impoaaible. THE WRIGHT - HICGINS SYSTEM OF PIANO LESSONS BY CORRESPONDENCE Mfiiou ■ '•-•iii'i •Oaf (s» My «jiur_ *U1 at Wm( haJva live tint* uex f..f you y. • ; "...I at 114 Maao. R-tw! canJ to-d*) fW my Mill* boot 41 TRA.N.NQ v. TOOMIMC Tb -r- in too will acJ aa npo- tiOdio m tfca ptimt&m waka tt;.ti«rlj« nir n-wthoJ . Miac, or Tit. a, «Ias> whsattv-r lw- ftfeaar. JOrttMptarr or Mod mu- ll Wright nigglns, F.R.C.O.. l .Mus., T.CL-. 30, Oak Hon-. Parbhurat Road. London, N.7. > a. «Aji i ■ « * aaiLiiAMr i a t IF YOU SUFFaCK troaa aancaa. mwiiao i-« .1.4-v lac* of ■..*.»/. n.Ut»f. — G-jDPiiY EtLIOTl Imith. tad. aM. haV "LOVE & LOVER ta a •reoderfal s^o, ^ • Uitu to ARE YOU FAT? Or arc you getting fat • Do not waste big money on quack midicinr i thai do Dot cote. Spend a little money wisely on Malurt t Only AVm«w>— TMIMZU TABLETS They will restore you to your normal s>rmne*s in n few weeks. Sent post free, with directions in plain "Tappers, for P.O. r'j. Don't delay. THE THIMZU TAB1RT to 130. XAmbert Boeas, L as as is Km, LOMooa, z Z ... r •awsoe WasM~>St>SMr'_J'K AMD LOVEH.-wlll.-sl"' ■aTssI wTS|y*T nsr H psst ■»»■ * I tarais. rstusito* Agessey l»yr*" 1. Lii tart lwM> t'1- llOAN.DU*LO**M. lOO Wards see sosv as S weeks. A'o-saW >n> tasiws /jr/1/1 BEOETHassD 111* LTD. tn. aUiVna Sail. Leaasa. a c : HEIGHT INCREASED 5/-' VARICOSE VEINS. Ma • oaltlvals/ and •srmansstly °uZr.'!it Call or write NOW for FREE •AMPLE afl» Bcoklet " which gives full aorOCuUra-. L« Bfiu.gr Sargical MaaafgT C . ' jf • Dept. S B to * n. W.rccal«r it BlH*lW|tAJ»- -e—Helfl

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine CONTENTS BY RIDYABD KJPLKO The Support* - a BIDEB HACOABD .".She - meeU Allan manr?> Chap*, i-vn - 9*aaaa majm a mm* r»ln _H.DE VEBE STACPOOLE Vara. A Dram of toe few a. ft H. BVTCKmM . i i„- hit „r Lock , OEBTBCDB PAGE. - H,r Han , BARONESS OHCZY... ThePri^ip.1 wiuw. «1 n STACY AUHONIEK The Landlord of "TJir U**a>feut> " EUCK The Dowmri tatt, . IK.BOTA FLAT AD m „, TtnnyMU . Mabel barn es-o b d n i • y BMnkiWC tor W HI Urn . ALICE HEGAN BICE. -A rar.ncr.hip K,n,o„ H* .. CHARLES OABVU > The V|mr M 107 PAGE OF H CHOCK m CHILDREN'S PAGES ^ m II 30 55 71 •6 1 far rA„rorf*r■ • MM

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10 .4T»VT*T?TTSl,rMKNTS /^HAPPELL PIANOS GRAND AND UPRIGHT Acknowledged by a DISCRIMINATING PUBLIC throughout the WORLD as the FINEST ENGLISH MAKE Utcd by the following, among m»ay EMINENT ARTISTES PACHMANN MOISEIWITSCH ARTHUR de GREEF HOWARD JONES KATHARINE GOODSON IRENE SCHARRER MYRA HESS AMINA GOODWIN LI LI A KANEVSKAYA MARGARET COOPER etc., elc. Preferred by the PrincipJ Prol«.ofi throar' oa ib« Kmj'iorn. and Urgely Bird is the ROYAL ACADEMY OF MUSIC ROYAL COLLECE OF MUSIC GUILDHALL SCHOOL OF MUSIC TRINITY COLLEGE cic. etc Not to be excelled for TONE. TOUCH. anc C DURABILITY HAPPELL FLAYER-PIANOS GRAND AND UPRIGHT CHAPPELL'S ^XtSLfSSo GALLERIES 50, NEW BOND STREET. LONDON. W.I. Agents in all the Principal Towns.

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the sippo —hi Tbia poem bma been written by Mr. Ru>Uar<l Kiplinff •pecially for the firat number of " Hutchinaon'a Story M.B..Jne." TO Him Who made the Heavens abide and gave the stars their motion. To Him Who tames the moonstruck tide twice a day round ocean — Let His Name be magnified in all poor folks' devotion! ^"ot for Prophecies and Powers, V isions, Gifts or Gract^. But the weighed and counted hours that drive us to our plan s With the burden on our backs, the weather in our faces. _i Not for any Miracle of Easy Loaves and Fishes, But for standing 'gainst our will at work against our wishes — Such as finding food to fill daily-emptied dishes. iz

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine Not for Voices, Harps or Wings or rapt Illumination, But the grosser Self that springs of use and occupation, Unto which the Spirit clings as her last salvation. (He Who launched our Ship of Fools many anchors gave us. Lest one gale should start them all or one grcundsucll slave us. Praise Him for the -petty creeds That prescribe, in paltry needs, Solemn rites to trivial deeds and, by small things, save us/) Heart may fail and Strength outwear and Purpose turn to loath But the everyday affair of toilette, meals and clothing, Builds a bulkhead twixt despair and the edge of nothing. (Praise Him, then, Who orders it that, though Earth be flaring And the crazy skies are lit By the searchlights of the Pit, Man should not depart a whit from his uouted bearing.) They that sip from every glass lose their heads the faster. They that skip from thought to thought suffer like disaster. And in all adversity. Having nothing orderly, Let the accepted time go by till Panic is their master I

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Rudyard Kipling He Who bids the wild-swans' host still maintain their flight on Air-roads over islands lost — Ages since 'neath ocean losfr — Beaches of some sunken coast their fathers would alight on, we shall guide us through this dark, not by new shown glories. But by every ancient mark our fathers used before us, Till our children ground their ark where the proper shore is. And He Who makes the Mountains smoke and rives the Hills asunder, And to-morrow leads the grass — .Mere unconquerable grass — Where the blazing crater was, to heal and hide it under. Shall not lay on us the yoke of too long fear and wonder. Copyright I«I9 In ta« United Stat«« of America by Rudyard Kipling. »3

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"SHE" MEETS ALLAN By H. RIDER HAGGARD Jtulhor of "She," "Allan Quatirmaln." do Illustrated by MAURICE GREIFFENHAGEN S.rrr.l of lb. f.mo... character, which have- mult Sir Rldar ! Uccrrf o»« of tha BM wWtlrnri of U.,n - author, inon In ihU powarf-1 new aerial, which taka. a. wrmin b»to lb. *.-«.« hart of Africa a»d briaaa toaatha.- at U.I Allan Qnatarm.in and tha my.lerioua. alaarre "SHE." CHAPTER I THE TALISMAN I THINK it was the old Egyptians, a very wise people, probably indeed much wiser than we know, for in the *isurc of their ample centuries they had time to think out things, who declared that *ach individual personality was made up •f six or seven dilierent elements, although 1 think the Bible only allows us three — •amely, body, soul, and spirit. The body that the man or woman wore, if I undcr- *tand their theory aright, which perhaps 1. ■a ignorant person, do not, was but a kind •I tack or fleshly covering containing these •Sfierent principles. Or mayhap it did not Contain them at all. but was simply a «ouse. as it were, in which they lived from time to time and seldom all together, al- though one or more of them was present *°ntinually. as though to keep the place farmed and aired. This ts but a casual illustrative sugges- tion, tor what right have I. Allan Quau t- •Oiin. out of my little reading and prob- •b'y erroneous deductions, to form any fBdgmrat as to the theories of the old ^O'pUans f Still these. as I understand Jwu. suffice to furnish me with a text 'oat man is not one. but many, in which Connection it may be remembered that Th- .lory ho. brr« a»*rrr laird I often in Scripture he is spoken of as being the home of many demons, seven. 1 think, and. to come to a far dilierent example, that the Zulus talk of their witch-doctors as being inhabited by "a multitude of spirits." Now, the reason of all this homily is that I, Allan, the most practical and unim- aginative of persons, just a homely, half- educated hunter and trader, who chance*, to have seen a good deal of the particular little world in which my lot was cast, at OM period of my life became the victim of spiritual longing-. I am a man who has eullcred great bereavement* in ray time, such as have seared my soul, since, perhaps because of my rather primitive and simple nature, my affections are very strong. I can never forget those s h till .»t length I desired above every tain ijh eat Mi • lay them at rest m one way O another or I was in Zululand ab being near t he Black KU I paid a visit to my acqui have written elsewhere, ancient dwarf. Zikali. •«r.al pnrpcar*- out this time, and '■>! whrre be dwelt, intance of whom I the wonder! ul and known n» The-

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine Thing- that-should-nevcr-have-been-born." also more c >mmonly among the Zulus as " Opener of Roads." When wc had talked of many things connected with the state of Zululand and its politics, I decided to consult him on the problems that had been troubling me. " You are named ' Opener of Roads.' are you not, Zikali ? " 1 said. " Yes. the Zulus have always called me that, since before the days of Chaka. But what of names, which often enough mean nothing at all ? " " Only that / want to open a road. Zikali, that which runs across the River of Death." " Oho I " he laughed, " it is very easy." and snatching up a little assegai that lay beside him. he proffered it to me, adding. Be brave now and fall on that. Then before 1 have counted sixty the road will be wide open, but whether you will see anything on it I cannot tell you." Again I shook my head and answered, " It is against our law. Also while 1 still live I desire to know whether I shall meet certain others on that road after my time has come to cross the River. Perhaps you, who deal with spirits, can prove the matter to me, which no one else seems able to do." " Oho I " laughed Zikali again. " What do my ears hear ? Am I, the poor Zulu cheat, asked to show that which is hidden from all the wisdom of the great White People ? " " The question is," I answered, with irritation, " not what you are asked to do, but what you can do. ' " That I do not know yet, Macumazahn. What spirits do you desire to see ? If that of a woman called Maine* na • is one of them, I think that perhaps I whom she Iovcd " " She is not one of them. Zikali. More- over, if she loved you, yoa paid back her love with death." " Which perhaps was the kindest thing I could do, Macumazahn. for reasons that you may be able to guess, and others with which 1 will not trouble you. But if not hers, whose ? Let me look I — let me look ! I will tell you a secret. All seers who live at the same time, if they are great, com- mune with each other because they are akin and their spirits meet in sleep or dreams. Therefore 1 know of a certain mistress cf our i raft, a very lioness among jackals, who for thousands of years ha* uiu sleeping in the northern caves, and. humble though 1 am, she knows of tat." • For the history of Mamcena. Me the book called ChtlJ o/ Storm. " Quite so," I said, yawning. " but per- haps, Zikali, yon will come to the point of the spear. What of her ? How is she named, and if she exists will she help me ? " " I will answer your questions back- wards, Macumazahn. I think that she will help you if you help her ; in what way I do not know, because although witch doctors sometimes work without pay, as I am doing now, Macumazahn, witch-doctoresse* never do. As for her name, the only one that she has among onr company ' Queen.' because she is the first of all them and the most beauteous a mo women. For the rest I can tell yon no- thing, except that she has always been, and I suppose, in this shape or in that, will always be while the world lasts, because she has found the secret of life unending." " You mean that she ts an immortal, Zikali." I answered, with a smile. " 1 do not say that. Macumazahn. be- shape the vben I w: cause my little mind canuc thought of immortality. Bui a babe, which is far ago, she had lived so long that scarce would she know the differ- ence between then and now. and already in her breast was all wisdom gathered. I know it, because although, as I have said, wc have never seen each other, at times we talk together in our sleep, for thus she shares her loneliness, and I tlunk, though this may be but a dream, that last night she told me to send you on to her to seek an answer to certain questions which you would put to me to-day." Now I grew angry, and asked. " Whv does it please you to fool me, Zikali. with such talk as this ? If there is any truth in it, show me where the woman called yuetn lives, and bow I am to come to her." The old wizard took up the little assegai which he bad offered to me, and with its blade raked out ashes from the hie that always burnt in front of him. While he did so be went on talking to me. as I thought, in a random fashion, perhaps to distract my attention, of a certain white man whom he said I should meet upon my journey and of bis at.'airs. also of other matters, none of which interested me much at the time. These ashes he patted down fiat, and then on them drew a map with the point of his spear, making grooves for streams, certain marks for bush and forest, wavy lines for water or swamps, and httle heaps for hills. When he bad finished it all. he bade me1 come round the fire and study the picture, across which, by an afterthought, he drew

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Rider Haggard a wavering furrow with the edge of the assegai to represent a river, and gathered the ashes in a lump at the northern end to signify a large mountain. Lo ok at it well. Macumazahn," he "aid, •' and forget nothing, since if you °jake this journey and forget, you die. "°. no need to copy it in Jriut book of yours, for see, I will stamp it onyour mind." Then suddenly he gathered up the hot ashes in a double handful and threw them into my face, muttering something as he "id so and adding aloud. There, now you will remember." " Certainly I shall." I answered, cough- ing. " and 1 beg that you will not play 8uch a joke upon me again." As a matter of fact, whatever may have "f-n the reason. I never forgot any detail °f that extremely intricate map. " That big river must be the Zambesi," * Stuttered. " and even then the mountain °f your Queen, il it be her mountain, is far away, and how can 1 come there alone ? " " 1 don't know. Macumazahn. though Perhaps you might do so in company. At •east 1 bilieve that m the old days people ttsed to travel to the place, since once 1 have heard a great city stood there which was the heart of a mighty empire." Now I pricked up my earn, for though * believed nothing of Zikali's story of a Wonderful Queen. I was always intensely I ■atercsted in past civilisations and their ^lics. Alto I knew that old Zikali's know- ledge was extensive and peculiar, however *e came by it. and I did not think that he would lie to me in this matter. Indeed, to tell the truth, then and there I made up "ly mind that if it were in any way pos- sible, I would attempt this Jonmey. " How did people get to the city. Zikali?" My sea. I suppose, Macumazahn, but * think that you will be wise not to try that *oad. since I beheve that on the seaside *b* marshes are now impassable, and 1 think you will be safer on your feet." " Yon want me to go on this adventure, ^ikali. Why ? For I know you never do ' *»ything without motive." Oho ! Macumazahn. you are clever, and see deeper into the trunk of a tree than ; *>ost. Yes. I want you to go for three 'easons. First, that yon may satisfy your ; on certiun matters, and I would help ■t : secondly, became I want to satisfy •hine ; and thirdly, because I know that i Jon will come back safe to be a prop to i {** in things that will happen in days un- born. Otherwise 1 would have told y«>u Nothing of this story, since it is necessary to me that you should remain living beneath the sun." " Have done, Zikali. What is it that you desire ? " " Oh ! a great deal that 1 shall get. but chiefly two things, so with the rest I will not trouble you. First I desire to know whether these dreams of mine of a wonder- ful white witcb-doctoress, or witch, and of my converse with her. are indeed more than dreams. Next I would learn whether certain plots of mine, at which I have worked for years, will succeed." " What plots, Zikali ? — and how can my taking a distant journey tell you anything about them ? " " You know them well enough. Macuma- zahn ; they have to do with the overthrow of a royal house that has worked me bitter wrong. As to how your journey can help me, why, thus. You shall promise to me to ask of this Queen whether Zikali, Opener of Roads, shall triumph or be overthrown in that on which he has set his heart." As you seem to know this witch so well, why do you not ask her yourself. Zikali ? " " To ask is one thing, Macumazahn. To get an answer is another. 1 have asked in the watches, of the night, and the reply was, ' Come hither, and perchance I will tell you.' 1 Queen.' I said, ' how can I come save in the spirit, who am an ancient and a crippled dwarf scarcely able to stand upon my feet ? " ' ' Then send a messenger. Wizard, and be sure that he is white, for of black savages 1 have seen more than enough. Let him bear a token also that he comes from yon. and tell me of it in your sleep. Moreover, let that token be something of power which will protect him on the journey." Such is the answer that comes to me in my dreams, Macumazahn." " Well, what token will you give me, Zikali ? " He groped about in his robo and pro- duced a pit-ce of ivory of the size of a large chessman that bad a hole in it. through which ran a plaited cord of the stilt hairs from an elephant's tail. On this article, which was of a rusty brown colour, he breathed, then having whispered to it for a while, handed it to me. I took the talisman, for such 1 guessed it to be, idly enough, held it to the light to examine it. and started back so violently that almost I let it fall. 1 do not quite know why I started, bnt I think it was because some influence seemed to leap from it to mo. Zikali started also, and cried out.

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine " Have a care, Macumazahn. Am I young that I can bear being dashed to the ground ? "What do you mean ? " I asked, still staring at the thing which I perceived to be a most wonderfully fashioned likeness of the old dwarf himself as he appeared before me crouched upon the ground. There were the dcepsct eyes, the great head, the toad-like shape, the long hair. all. " When that ivory is hung over your heart, Macumazahn. where you must al- ways wear it, learn that with it goes the strength of Zikali ; the thought that would have been his thought and the wisdom that is his wisdom will be your companions, as much as though he walked at your side and could instruct you in every peril .Moreover, north and south and east and west, this image is known to men who, when they see it, will bow down and obey, openiug a road to him who wears the Medicine of the Opener of Roads ." " Indeed," I said, smiling. " and what is t his colour on the ivory ? " " I forget, Macumazahn. who have had it a great number of years, ever since it descended to me from a forefather of mine who was fashioned in the same mould as I am. It looks like blood, does it not ? It is a pity that Mamecna is not still alive, since she whose memory was so excellent might have been able to tell you." and, as he spoke, with a motion that was at once sure and swift, he threw the loop of ele- phant hair over my head. Hastily 1 changed the subject, feeling that, after his wont, this old wizard, the most terrible man whom ever I knew, who had been so much concerned with the tragic death of Mamecna, was stabbing at me in some hidden fashion. " You tell me to go on this journey." I said, " and not alone, and yet for com- panion you give me only an ugly piece of ivory shaped as no man ever was. ' here I got one back at Zikali. " and from the look of it steeped in blood, which ivory, if 1 had my way. I would throw into the camp fire. Who. then, am I to take with me ? " " Don't do that. Macumazahn — 1 mean throw the ivory into the fire, since I have no wish to burn belore my time, and if you do, you who have worn it might burn with me. At least certainly you would die with the magic thing and go to acquire knowledge more quickly than you desin No, no. do not try to take it off your neck, or rather try if you will." J did try. but something seemed to pre- t. by ,-hicb vent me from accomplishing my purpose of giving the carving back to Zikali as 1 wished to do. First my pipe got in thfij way of my hand, then the elephant hairs- caught in the collar of my coat : then pang of rheumatism, to which 1 was accus-* tomed from an old injury, developed of al sudden in my left arm. and lastly 1 seemed to grow tired of bothering about the thing. Zikali. who had been watching my movw ments. burst out into one of his terrible laughs that seemed to fill the whole klooj and re-echo from its rocky walls. It died] away, and he went on. without further- reference to the talisman or image, " You asked who you were to take with, you. Macumazahn. Well, as to this, must make inquiry of those who know.| Man, my medicines ! " From the shadows in the hut behind, darted oat a tall figure carrying a great spear in one hand and in the other a cai- skin bag. which with a salute he laid down at the feet of his master. This salu the way. was that of a Zulu word means Lord." or " Home of Ghost-. Zikali groped in the bag and produced^ from it certain knucklebones. " A common method." he muttered, i " such as every vulgar wizard uses, but one . that is quick, and. as the matter concerned I is small, will serve my turn. Let us scti now. whom you sliall take with you»1 Macumazahn.' He breathed upon the bones, shook] them up in his thin hands, and with quick turn of the wrist threw them the air. Then he studied them where they lay among the ashes he raked out of the fire, those which he hadj used for the drawing of his map. " Do yon know a man named Umslopu- . gaas. Macumazahn. the chief of a tribe tbafcj is called the People of the Axe. whom titles of praise are Bulalio. or the Slangh-j terer and Woodpecker, the latter from thl^ way he handles his axe ? He is a sava£» fellow, but one ol high blood and higher: courage, a great captain in lus way. though he will never come to anything, save ."> glorious death — in your company. I think. , Macumazahn " I Here he studied the bone*, again for a while.) " Ye*. I am sure, m your company, though not upon this j»uPl ney. I think that this wolf-man. this a*H roan, this warrior. Umslopog?.as. would b^j a good fellow to you on your journey to visit the white witch Queen." " I have heard of him." I answered cau- tiously. " It is said in the land that he *». a son of Cbaka " Is there any me el»e ; ' t8

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Rider Haggard Zikali glanced at the bones again, pok- ing them about in the ashes with his* toe, then replied, with a yawn. You seem to have a little yellow man in your service, a clever snake who knows how to creep through grass, and when to *trike and when to he hidden. I should take him too, if I were you." " You know well that I have such a •nan. Zikali. a Hottentot named Hans, able in his way, but drunken, very faith- ful too. since he loved my father before He He is cooking my supper at the *agon now. Arc there to be any others t No, 1 think you three will be enough, ^ritb a guard of soldiers from the People 511 the Axe. for you will meet with fight- ing, and a ghost or two." Here of a sudden he shivered violently and cried : ■• Slave, bring me my blanket, it grows cold, and my medicine also, that ^bich protects me from the ghosts, who arc thick to-night. Macumazahn brings *hein. 1 think. Oho-ho ! " Then he waved his hand to dismiss rnc and 1 went, wondering. ( HAPTEN 11 111! Mi'SSJNOi-kS I inu not rest as I should that night ; some- how I was never able to sleep well in the Neighbourhood of the Black Kloof. 1 sup- pose that Zikali'* const, m t.,lk about ghosts, with his hint* and innuendoes con- cerning those who were dead, always uf- ii. 1 struck my hand against something *»d looking, observed that it was the hMcous little ivory image of Zikali, which *e had set about my neck. The sight of thing ami the memory ol Ins ridiculous *alk about it. espctiidlv of his assertion "**ut jt h.»d come down to him through the ages, which it could not have dptW, seeing that it was a likeness of him sell, irritated me so much that I proceeded to take it on with the full intention of throw- ing it into the spring. As I was in the act of doing this, from a clump of reeds mixed with bushes quite close to me. there came a sound of hissing, and suddenly above them appeared the head of a great black m.imba, perhaps the deadliest of all our African snakes, and the only one 1 know which wdl attack man without provoca- tion. Leaving go of the image, 1 sprang back in a great hurry towards where my gup lay. Then the snake vanished, and mak- ing sure that it had departed to its hole, w hich probably was at a distance, 1 re- turned to the pool, and once more began to take ofl the talisman in order to consign it to the bottom of the pool. \fter all. 1 reflected, it was a hideous, and probably a blood-stained thing which I did not in the least wish to wear about my neck like a lady's love-token Just as it was coming over my head, sutldenly from the other side oi the bush that infernal snake popped up again, this time, it was clear, really intent on busincsy. It began to move, towards me in the light nmg-hke way mambas have, hissing ami Making its tongue. I was too quick for n;> friend, however, for snatching up the gun that 1 had laid down beside me, 1 It i it have a charge of buckshot in the neck which nearly cut it in two. so that it fell down and expired with hideous, convulsive writhing-. Hearing the shot. Hans came running from the wagon to see what was the matter Hans, 1 should say, was that same Hotten- tot who had been the companion of most ol my jouroeyings since my father's day. He was with me when as a young fellow 1 accompanied Reticf to Dingaan's kraal, and, like myseli. escaped the massacre,* Also we shared many other adventures, in- cluding the great one in the Land of the Ivory Child. 'where he slew the huge ele- phant god. Jana, and himsell was slain. Hut of this jounuy uc did not dream m those days. For the rcit Hans was a most entire!) unprincipled person, but. as the Boers say. " as clever as a wagonioad of monkey*." Also he drank when he got the chaac*. One good quality be had. however ; no man was ever more faithful, and perhaps it would be true to say that neither man not woman - vci loved me. unworthy, quite so well. In appouinu-rc lie rather rc-embled • St. it»« Ux*. called Umnt- *9

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine an antique and dilapidated baboon ; bis face was wrinkled like a dried nut. and his quick little eyes were bloodshot. I never knew what his age was. any more than he did himself, but years had left him tough as whipcord and absolutely untiring. Lastly he was perhaps the best hand at following a spoor that ever I knew, and, up to a hundred and fifty yards or so, a very deadly shot with a rifle, especially when he used a little single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun of mine made by Pur- dey, which he named Inlombi, or Maiden. Of that gun. however, I have written in The Holy Flower and elsewhere. " What is it. Baas ? " he asked. " Here there are no lions, nor any game." " Look the other side of the bush. Hans." Ho slipped round it. making a wide circle with his usual caution, .then, seeing the snake — which, by the way. was, I think, the biggest mamba I ever killed— suddenly froze as it were in a stiff attitude that re- minded me of a pointer when ho scents game. Having made sure that it was dead, he nodded, and said, " Black mamba. uth or North or liast or West. S«j to-morrow morning we cross the river ana trek lor Natal." " Yea. Baas, but then why not crow Mj this evening ? There will - till be light." J " 1 have said that we cross it to-morro4 morning." 1 answered, with that firmnen winch I have read always indicates a maAi of character. " and I do not chaage *rord." J fcsfcgfl .ent or}

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Rider Haggard " No, Baas, but sometimes other things «J-"»3C besides -words. Will the Baas have J*J* buck's leg for supper, or the stuff out of with a dim in it. which we bought at a o years ago? The flies have got at the leg. but I cut out tho bit with the maggots on it and ate it myself." Hans was right, things do change, especially *«e weather. That night, unexpectedly, for ' turned in the sky seemed quite serene, there came a terrible rain long before It was *n«. which lasted off and on for three whole *{*>*, and continued intermittently for an in- definite period. Needless to »ay. the river. *hu-h it would have been so easy to crow on this particular evening, by the morning was a *H*ng torrent, and so remained for several In despair at length I trekked south, "'here a ford was reported, which, when re*chcd1 proved impracticable. I tried another * dozen miles farther on, which was very hard *j» come to over boggy land. It looked all **8at. and wc were getting across finely, when **ln with the chin resting on the breast. ^htr0 was the head, there were the artni, there .JWe the knees. Indeed, the whole maw* of *J reminded me strongly of the effigy of Zikali IJhico was tied about my neck, or rather, ol ***U himself. L.-V What I* that called ? " I said to Hans, 'fftutiog to this strange bill, now blaring with * angry ore of the setting sun that had burst n the storm clouds and made it re ominous even than before i the Witch Mountain. Baas, where fmslopogaas and a blood brother of irried a great club u*ed to hunt otves. It is haunted, and in a cave of it he the bones of Nada the Lily, man whose name is a song, she who ...ve of L'mdopogaas." »_ Rubbtsh." I said, though I bad heard 2**thlnn of all that story, and remembered Zikali had mentioned this Nada. cunpax- "H he* ia beauty to another whom once 1 knew •Ppear „ -Thai Chief th •' Where then lives the Chief L'mslopogaas ? " ■• They say his town is yonder on the plain. Baas. It is called tho Place of the Axe. and strongly fortified with a river Tound most of it. and his people are the People of the Axe, They are a fierce people, and ail the country round here is so uninhabited because L'mslopogaas has cleaned out the tribes who used to live in it first with hh wolves and afterwards in war. He Is so strong a chief and so terrible in battle that even Cbaka himself was afraid of him. and Dingaan the king they say he brought to his end because of a quarrel about this Nada. Cetywayo. the present king. too. leaves him alone, and to him he pays no tri- bute." Whilst I was abont to ask Hons from whom he had collected all this information, suddenly I heard sounds, and. looking op. saw three tall men, clad in full herald's dress, rushing towards us at great speed. " Here come some chips from the Axe. said Hans, and promptly bolted into the wagon. I did not bolt because there was no time to do so without loss of dignity, but. although I wished I had ray ride with me. just sat still upon my stool and with great deliberation lighted mv pipe, taking not the slightest notice at the three savage-looking fellows. These men, that I noted carried axes instead of assegais, rushed straight at me with the axes raised in such a fashion that any one unacquainted with the habits of Zulu warriors of the old school might have thought that tbey intended no- thing short of murder. As I expected, how- ever, within about six feet of me they halted suddenly and stood there still as statues For my part I went on lighting my pipe as though I did not see them, and when at length I was obliged to lift my head, surveyed them with an air of mild interest. Then 1 took a little book out of my pocket, it was my favourite copy of the /Was*/ UgtiuU.aaa bejaa to read Thi* proceeding astonished them a good deal, who felt that they had. so to speak, missed fire. At last the soldier In the middle said. " Are you blind. White Man • " No. Black Fellow." I answered. " but I am short-sighted. Would you be so good as to stand out ol my light i " a rem -irk which puzzled them so much that all three drew beck a few paces. When I had read a little farther. I shut up the book, anil remarked. ••If you are wanderers who want food, as I judge by your being so thin. I am sorry that I have little meat, but my sen-ants will give >0" Ow"ft"tlsaid the spokesman. " he calls us wanderers I Either he must be a very great man or he is mad." " You are right. I *m a great man." X answered, yawning. " and if yoo trouble n»e too much, you will see that I can be mad also. Now. what do yoo want } " _, A« a«7wV wa«t ttfbute." answered the men in a somewhat changed tone 21 ssssssM

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine ■• Do you ? Then you won't get it. 1 thought that only the King or Zululand had a right to tribute, and your Captain's name i* not Cetywayo, is it ? " •• Our Captain is King here." said the man still more uncertainly. •• Is he indeed ? ihen away with you back to liim and tell this king of whom I never heard, though I have a message for a certain Cmslopogaas. that Macumazahn, Watcher by Night, will visit him to-morrow, if he will send a guide nt the first light to show the beat path for the wagon." • Hearken." said the man to his companions. • this is Macutnnzahn himself. Well, we thought it. for no other would have dared——" Then they saluted with their axes, calling me Chief and other fine names, and departed as they had come, at a run, calling out that my message should be delivered, and that doubtless the Chief would send the guide. So it came about that, quite contrary to my intention, after all circumstances brought mt to the Town of the Axe. Even at the last moment I had not meant to go there, bui \Uh ii the tribute was demanded. 1 saw that it was best to do so. and. having once passed my word, it could not be altered ; indued. I felt sure that in this event there would lie trouble, and that my Oxen would be stolen, or worse. So Fate having issued its decree, of which Hans's version was that Zikali, or his (..real Medicine, had so arranged thing., I shrugged my shoulders and waited. CHAPTER Ml t'MSUOK CAA.H OF THE AXE Next morning at the dawn guides- arrived from the Town of the Axe. bnnging with them a yoke of spare oxen, which showed that it* Chi' l was really anxious to sec mc So in due course we inspanned and started, the guides leading us by a rough but practicable road down the steep hillside to the saucerlike pbthl beneath, where I saw many cattle grazing. Travelling some miles across this plain, wc came at last to a rivet of no great breadth that encircled a considerable Kaffir town on three sides, the fourth being protected by a little hue of koppies which were joined to- gether with walls. Also the place was strongly fortified with fence* and in every other way known to tho native mind. With the help of the spare oxen we crossed the river safely at the ford, although it was very full, and on the farther side were received by a guard of men tall, soldier-like fellows, all Of them arrived with axes, as the messenger* had been. They led us op to the cattle en- closure in the centre of the town, which, al- » though it could be used to protect beasts in case of emergency, also served the practical p-.npoM of a public square. Here some ceremony was in progress, for soldiers stood round the kraal while herald* prauced and shouted. At the head of the in place in front of the chiefs big hut was a h« group of people, among whom a big gaui man sat upon a stool clad in a warrior's dre* With a great and very long axe. halted «i« wire-lashed rhinoceros horn, laid across ■ knees Our guides led me. with Hans snes» ing after me like a dejected and low-bred flj (for the wagon had stopped outside the gat™ across the kraal to where the heralds shout and the big man sat yawning. At once noted that he was a very remarkable per_ broad and tall and spare of frame, with Um tough -looking arms, a fierce face which I minded mc of that of the late king. Dingaal a great hole in Ids head above the temple who1 the skull had been driven in by some blo> and keen, royal-looking eyes. He looked 0" and seeing me. cried. , • What I Has a white man come to fig me for the chieftainship of the People of tt Axe ? Well, he is a small one." •• No." I answered quietly. " but Macum* zahn. Watcher by Night, has come to visit in answer to your request. O Umslope' Macumazahn. whose name was known land before yours was told of. O Ui The Chief heard, and rising from lilted the big axe in salute. • I greet you. O Macumazahn ' he sa» « ho. although you are small in stature, very great indeed in fame. Have I not ht how you conquered Hangu. although Sadul ■lew him. and of how you gave up the hundred head of cattle to Tshoza and the ..I the Amangwane who lought with you. cattle that were your own .' Have I heard how you led the Amaworobe against tn I'sutu and stamped Hat three of Cetywayo regiments in the days of Panda, nlthough. ala» because of an oath of mine I lifted no steel 1 that battle. 1 who will have nothimt to with those who spring from the blood _ Senzangacona. perhaps because I smell t strongly of it. Macumazahn, Oh 1 yes. I ha heard these ami many other things conccr ing you. though until now it has never be my fortune to look upon your face. O Watt* by Night, and therefore I greet you we Bold one. Cunning one, Upright one. Friend us Black People." ••Thank you." I answered " but you *J something about fighting 11 there i* to 1 anything of the sort, let us get it over H f want to fight. I am quite ready." and 1 tap? the rifle which 1 carried The grun Chief broke into a laugh, and *** " Listen By an ancient law any roan a certain dav in each year may light mc this Chieftainship as I fought him who it before me. and take it from me wit' life and the Axe. though of late none like the business. But that law was before there were guns, or men like M zahn who. it is said, can hit a grasshopper' a wall at fifty paces Tliercfore I tell 9 that if you wish to fight me. O Macumaxa' I give in and you may have the chief tainstui and he laughed again in his fierce laAion. •■ 1 think it is too hot for fighting ein 2-

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Rider Haggard with guns or axes, and chieftainships are honey that is full of stinging bees," I answered. Then I took my seat on a stool that had been brought fox me and placed by the side of Umslopoiraay after which the ceremony went on The heralds, having cried out the challenge to all and sundry to come and fight the Holder °* the Axe for the Chieftainship of the Axe without the slightest result, since nobody •eemed to desire t do anything of the sort. Umslopogaas, after a pause, rose, swinging hi* formidable weapon round his head, and declared that by right of conquest he was Chief of the People for the ensuing year, an announcement that everybody accepted with- out surprise. After a pause he said. " Why do you come to visit me. Macuma- *»hn. who have never done so before 1 I do not come to visit you. Umslopogau- That was not my intention You brought mo. or rather, the flooded rivers and you together brought me. for I was on my way to Natal and could not cross the drift*.' " Yet I trunk you have a message for me. White Man. for not long ago a certain wander in»; witch-doctor who came here told me to expect you. and that you had words to say to me " " Did he Umslopogaas ? Well, it is true that 1 have a message, though it is one that I did not mean to deliver." " Yet being here, perchance yon will deliver it Macumaiahn. for those who have messages •ad will not speak them sometimes come to trouble." , , " Yes being here I will deliver it. seeing that so 'it seems to be fated, but on one con- dition only, that what the ears hear, the heart •hall keep to itself alone " Umslopogaas laid his hand upon the broad «dge of the weapon beside him. and said '• Bv the Axe X swear it. If I break the «>ath. be the Axe my doom." Then 1 told him the tale, as I have vet it down already, thinking to mysell that of it he would understand little, being but a wild •amor-man As it chanced, however. I was *nia taken, for he seemed to understand a great deal perchance because such primitive natures i »re in closer touch with high and secrot things than we imagine, perchance for other reasons with which t became acquainted later, t V Well. White Man." he said at length. " now bow am I to know that all this is not but a trap tor my feet which already seem to feel Cords between the toes of both of them ? Ks4 token do you bring. O Watcher by '>:. ht » How am I to know that the Open*-' « Roads really vrnt me this message which has been delivered so strang-ly by one who wished to travel on another j-ath ? " -I can t «ay." I answered. " »t least in words But." I added after refection, - as You ask for a token, perhaps I might be aN* to show yon something that would bring prooi L*oyoar heart. if there wereanysecret place — ■ Imslopogaas walked to the gateway of the fence and saw that the sentry was at his post Then he walked round the hut. casting an eye upon its roof, and muttered to me as he re- turned •• Once I was caught thus. There lived a certain woman who set her ear to the smoke- hole and so brought about the death of many, and among them of herself and of our children Enter All is safe. Yet if you talk, speak low." , So we went into the hut. taking the stools with uh. and seated ourselves by the lire that burned there, on to which Umslopogaa* threw chips of resinous wood. •• Now." he said. I opened my shirt, and by the bright light of the flame showed him the image of Zikali which hung about my neck. He stared at it though touch it he would not. Then he stood up and lifting his great axe. he saluted the image with the word AfnAoJi / the salote that is given to great wizards because they arc supiKMcd to be the home of many spirits •• It is the big Medicine, the Medicine itself." he said. " that which has been known in the land since the time of Seniangacona. the father of the 7.ulu royal house, and as it is said be- fore him." , , He sat down again and was silent for a long time At last be spoke, slowly ■ You wish to consult a white wvtch-doc- toress. Macumaxahn. who. according to Zikali. lives far to the north, as to the dead Now I too though perchance you will not think it of a black man. desire to learn of the dead ; yes. of a certain wife of my youth who was sister and friend as well as wife. whom. too. I loved better than all the world . also of a •brother of mine whose name I do not sp***- who ruled the wolves with me and who died at my side on yonder Witch-Mountain, having made him a mat of men to he on in a great and glorious fight. For of him as of the woman I think all day and dream all night, and I would learn if they still live anywhere, and 1 may look to see them again when I have died as a warrior should, and as I hope to do. Do vou understand. Watcher by Night 1 I answered that 1 understood very well, as his case seemed to be hke my own '• It may happen." went on I m-lopogaas. that nil this talk of the dead, who are sup posed to live .Iter they are dead is but as the sound of wind whispering in the reeds at night, that comes fr.-n nowhere and g»e» no- where and means nothing But at least it will be a great journey in which we shall adventure and fighting, since it is well ks in the land that wherever Macumaiahn there is a plenty of both Also. I think we shall agree well together, though my temper is rough at times, and that neither of us will desert the other in trouble, though of that little yellow dog of yours 1 am not so tare • I answer for him." 1 replied " He * true man and a cunning when once he t» away from dunk " least it nW that Then we spoke of plans lor our journey. 13

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine and of where we should meet to make it. talk- ing till it was late, after which 1 went to sleep in the guest hut. CHAPTER IV THE LION AND THE AXE Next day early I left the town of the People of the Axe. having bid a formal farewell to Umslopogaas. saying, in a voice which all could hear, that as the rivers were still flooded. I proposed to trek to the northern parts of Zululnnd and trade there until the weather was better. Our private arrangement, how- ever, was that on the night of the next full moon, which happened four week 4 later, we should meet at the eastern foot of a certain great, Oat- topped mountain known to both of us. which stands to the north of Zulaland, but well beyond its borders. So northward I trekked, slowly to spare my oxen, trading as I went. The details do not matter, but, as it happened, I met with more luck upon that journey than had come my way for many a long year. Although I worked on credit, since nearly all my goods were sold, a* owing to my repute I could always do in Zululand. I made some excellent bargains in cattle, and. to top up with, bought a large lot of ivory so cheap that really I think it must have been stolen All of this, cattle and ivory together. I neat to Natal in charge of a white friend of mine whom I conld trust, where the stuff was duly sold very well indeed, and the proceeds paid to my account, the " trade " equivalents being duly remitted to the native vendors. In fact, my good fortune was such that if I hail been superstitious like Hans. I should have been inclined to attribute it to- tho influence of Zikali's *• Great Medicine," As it was. I knew it to be one of the chances of a trader's life, and accepted it with a shrug, as often I had been accustomed to do m the alternative of losses. In due course and without accident, for the weather, which had been so wet. had now turned beautifully fine and dry. we came to the great, flat-topped hill where Umslopogaas and I had agreed to meot. trekking thither over high, sparsely Umbered veld that offered few difficulties to the wagon. This hill, which was known to such natives as lived in those parts by a long word that means " Hut-with- a (l.i t- roof," is surrounded by forests, for here trees grow wonderfully well, perhaps because of the water that flows from its slopes. Forcing our way through this forest, which was full of game. I reached its eastern foot and there camped five days before that night of full moon on which I had arranged to meet Umslopogaas At some time or other there had been a native village at this spot ; probably the Zulus had cleaned it out in long-past years, for I found human bones black with age lying in the lorn- grass. Indeed the cattle kraal still remained and in such good condition that, by piling up a few stones here and there on the walls and closing the narrow entrance with thorn bushes we coulJ still use it to enclose our oxen at nigJ This I did for fear lest there should be licsl about, though I had neither seen nor heard atrl The days went by pleasantly enough wit lots to eat. since whenever we wanted meat had only to go a few yards to shoot a fa: but at a spot whither they trekked to drink in th evening. The moon came up in silver glory and aftef had taken a good look at her for luck, also at I the veld within sight, I turned in An hoi or two later some noise from the direction « the cattle kraal woke me np. As it did rrt| recur. I thought that I would go to sleep a«af* Then an uneasy thought came to me tliaC could not remember having looked to whether the entrance was properly closed it was my habit to do. It was the same of troublesome doubt which in a civilised h makes one get out of bed and go up the passages to the sitting-room to see w" one has put ont the lamp. It always pj that one has pnt it out. but that does not vent a repetition of the performance next u the perplexity arises. 1 reflected that perhafc the noise was caused by the oxen pushing the* way through the carelessly closed entrance; and at any rate that I had better go to sea So I slipped on my boots and a coat and weal without waking Hans or the boys, only takinl with me a light, single-barrelled rule which! used for shooting small buck, but no »pan cartridges. Now in front of the gateway of the cat kraal, shading it. grew a single big tree of wild hg order. Passing under this tree I loo. and saw that the gateway was quite secur closed, as now I remembered. I had noted sunset. Then I started to go back, but 1 not stepped more than two or three paces wh in the bright moonlight. I saw the head of smallest ox, a beast of the Zulu breed deniy appear over the top of the wall. Ai tins there would have been nothing parties larly astonishing, bad it not been for the fa* that, as I could tell from the dosed eyes a the hanging tongue, this head belonged to dead animal. " What in the name of goodness •■ 1 | gan to myself, when my reflections were cfl short by the appearance of another head thai of one of the biggest lions I ever saw. whi had the ox by the throat and. with the , mous strength that is given to these creat by getting its back beneath the body deliberately hoisting it over the wall to «t away to devour at its leisure. There was the brute within twelve fe«i at me and. what is mere, it saw me as I saw and stopped, still hoiaVng the ox by the thn V% hat a chance for Allan Quatermaia 1 course he shot it dead,' I can fancy any saying who knows me by repute, also that the gift of God I am handy with a rifle Well so it should have been, fur even wffl the small-bore piece that I carried a bull ought to have pierced through the soft pal of the throat to the brain and killed tb lion as dead as Julius Csar Ibeoretocal

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine the thing was easy enough ; indeed, although naturally I was startled tor a moment, by the time that I had the rifle to my shoulder I had little fear of the issue, unless indeed there was a miss-fire, especially as the beast was so astonished that it remained quite still. Then the unexpected happened, as it gener- ally does in life, particularly in hunting, which. In my case, is a part of life. I fired, but by misfortune the bullet struck the tip of the horn of that confounded ox. which tip either was or at that moment fell in front of the spot on the lion's throat whereat half- unconsciously I had aimed. Kesult. the ball was turned, and, departing at an angle, just cut through the skin of the lion's neck, deeply enough to hurt It very much and to make it madder than all the hatters in the world. Dropping the ox, with a most terrific roar, it came over the wall at me : I remember that there seemed to be yards of it — I mean of the lion — in front of which there appeared a cavern full of gleaming teeth. I skipped back with much agility, also slightly to one side, because there was nothing else to do. reflecting in a kind of inconsequent way that Zikali's Great Medicine was after all not worth a curse. The lion landed on my side of the wall and reared itself upon its bind legs before getting to business, towering high above me but a little to my left. Then I saw n strange thing. A shadow thrown by the moon flitted past me — all I noted of it was the distorted shape of a great lifted axe. probably because the axe came first. This shadow fell, and with it another shadow, that of a lion's paw dropping to the ground. Then there was a most awful noise of roaring, and wheeling round I saw such a fray as never I shall sea again. A tall, grim black man was fighting the great lion, that now lacked one paw. but still stood upon its hind legs, striking at him with the other. The man, who was absolutely silent, dodged the blow and hit back with the axe. catching the beast upon the bTeast with such weight that it came to the ground in a lopsided fashion, since it had only one paw on which to light. The axe flashed up again, and before the lion could recover itself, or do anything eh»e. fell with a crash upon its skull, sinkiug deep into the head, after which all was over, for the beast's brain was cut in two. " I am here at the appointed time. Macu- mazahn." said Umslopogaas. for it was. he. as with difficulty he dragged the axe from the lion's severed skull. •' to find you watching by night as it is reported that you always do " •"No," I retorted, for his tone irritated me. " you are late. Bulolio. the moon has been up some hours." " I said. O Macumacahn. that I would meet you on tho night of the full moon, not at the rising of the moon." "That U true," I replied, mollified, "and at any rate you came at a good moment." " Ye»." he answered. " though, as It hap- pens, in this light the thing was easy to any 26 one who can handle an axe. Had it darker, the end might have been difle But, Macumazahn. you are not so clever i thought, since otherwise you would not haX come out against a lion with a toy like thai and he pointed to the little rifle in my hand " I did not know that there was a lid Umslopogaas." " That is why you are not so clever as thought, since of one sort or another there always a lion which wise men should be pt pared to meet, Macumazahn." Then he turned and whistled, and behold out of the long grass that grew at a little di tancc. emerged twelve great men, all of the bearing axes and wearing cloaks of hy-c* ikin^. who saluted me by raising their axe*. " Set a watch and skin me this beast I dawn. It will make us a mat," said LmsU pogaas. whereon again they saluted silent and melted away. " Who arc these ? " I asked. " A few picked warriors whom I broug* with me, Macumazahn. There were one « two more, but they got lost on the way." Then we went to the wagon, and spoke • more that night. Next morning we started on our journey. Now. while he was preparing to draw hi map in the ashes, or afterwards. I forget winch Zikali bad told me that when we drew near « the great river, we should come to a place the edge of bush- veld that ran down to tl* river where a white man lived, adding tba he thought this white man was a " trek -Boer. This. I should explain, means a Dutchro* who has travelled away from wherever he livt and made a home for himself la the wilda as some wandering spirit and the desire to 1 free of authority often prompts these people • do. Also, after an inspection of his enchant' knuckle-bones, he had declared that thing remarkable would happen to this or his family, while I was visiting him. in that map he drew in the ashes, the i of which were so indelibly impressed upon memory, he had shown me where 1 should the dwelling of this white man, of whom of whose habitation doubtless he knew thro the many spies who seem to be at the vice of all witch-doctors, and more especial)?] ol Zikali the greatest among them, Travelling by the sun and the compaM. ' had trekked steadily in the exact direct X* that he indicated, to find that in this usefa particular he was well named the " Opener Koads." since always before me I found practicable path, although to the right or left there was none. Thus when we came 1 mountains it was at a spot where covered a pass: when we came to swai it was where a ridge of high ground between them, and so forth. Also such trib*J as we met upon our journey always pro** of a friendly character, although perhaps th* aspect of Umslopogaas and his fierce baoA whom, rather irreverently. I named the tweW Apostles, had some snare in inducing tb* peaceful attitude ■ « "1

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Rider Haggard I So smooth was our progress, and so well parked by water at certain intervals, that at I came to the conclusion that wo must be •flowing some ancient road which, at a ior- fctten period of history, had run from south s north, or vie* versa. Or rather, to be it. it was the observant Hans who made discover}- from various indications which d escaped my notice. I need not stop to them, but one of these was that at ccr- P™ places the water- holes on high, rather land had been dug out. and in one or P°fe instances lined with stones, after the J**hion of an ancient well. Evidently we were Following some old trade route, made perhaps ["forgotten ages when Africa was more civilised ' it is now. L*^f seven days we trekked, till at length |*« saw far away a vast sea of bush- veld which. guessed correctly, must fringe the great f'ttibesi River. Moreover we. or rather Hans, eyes were those of a hawk, saw some- else —namely, buildings of a more or civilised kind, which stood among trees the side of a stream a mile or two on this "■de of the great belt of bush. '' Look. Baas." said Han*. " those wanderers not lie : there is the house of the white >k n I wonder if he drinks anything stronger Jan water." he added, with a sigh, and a kind * 'eminiscent contraction of his yellow throat. CHAPTER V ona had sighted the house from far away after sunrise, and by midday we were As we approached it. I saw that it almost immediately beneath two great trees — banyan trees we call them in ih Africa, perhaps because monkeys eat 2|*r fruit It was a thatched house, with P*itewashed walls, and a slatp. or veranda. r*Ond it apparently of the ordinary Duttli TP*. Moreover, beyond it. at a little distance. F»e other houses, or rather shanties, with ***on sheds, etc ; and mixed up with these a *»mber of native huts Farther on were con **erable rield* with springing corn ; also we herds of cattle grazing ->n the slopes. eyidently our white man was rich. . t?mslopogaas surveyed the place with a sol- ^er'.i eye. and said to roe. L " This must be a peaceful country. Macu [J»*alin. where no attack is feared, since of **f*nees I see none." K " Yes." 1 answered. " why not, with a wil- *»rn<_-» behind it and bnsh-veld and a great Wr ia front " . Men can cross riven and travel through ^•h veld." he answered, and wh silent. L*p to this time we had seen no one, al- *Oogh it might have been presumed that a '**fofl trekking toward* the house was a suffi- 2*ntiy unusaal sight to have attracted atten - Where can they be ? " I asked Asleep. Baas. I think " said Haas, and as * matter of fact he was right The whole population of the place was indulging in a noonday siesta. At last we got so near to the house that 1 halted the wagon and descended from the driving-box in order to investigate. At this moment some one did appear, the sight of whom astonished me not a little— namely, a very striking- looking young woman. She was tall, handsome, with large dark eyes, good features, a rather pale complexion, and. 1 think, the saddest face that I ever saw. Evidently she had beard the noise of the wagon and had como out to see what it was. for she had no- thing on her head, which was covered with thick hair of a raven blackness. Catching sight «d the great Uuislopogaas. with his gleaming axe. and of his savage-loo king bodyguard, she mi ere I an exclamation and. not unnaturally, turned to fly. •* It's all right." I sang out. emerging from behind the oxen, and in English, though before the words had lott my lips I reflected that there was not the slightest reason to suppose that she would understand them Probably she was Dutch, or Portuguese, although by some instinct I had addressed her in English. To my surprise she answered me in the *ame tongue, spoken, it is true, with a peculiar accent which 1 could not place, as it was neither Scotch nor Irish. ■• Thank yon." she said. " I. sir. was fnght encd. Your friends look " here she stumbled for a word, then added, " terrocious " I laughed at this composite adjective, and answered. •' Well, so they arc in a way. though they will not harm you or me. But, young lady, tell me. can we outspan here 1 Perhaps your husband •" " I have no husband : I have only a father, sir " and she sighed. •■ Well, then, could I speak to your fat.in My name is Allan Qaatcrmain. and I am mak- ing a journey of exploration, to find out about the country beyond, you know." " Yes. 1 will go and, wake him. He is asleep Every one sleeps here at midday— except me " she said, with another siRh •• Whv do you not follow their example ? " I asked jocosely, for this young woman puzsled me. and I wanted to find out about her " Because I sleep little, sir. who think too much There will be plenty of lime to sleep soon for all of us. wil! there AOt ? " I stared at her. and then inquired her name, because I did not know what else to say •■ My name is Ine* Robertson." she answered . " I will go to wake my father MeanwhUe. please unyoke your oxen They can feed with the others ; they look as though they want rest poor things. " she added and went into the house. " Iner Robertson." I thought to myself : " that's a queer combination English father and Portuguese mother. I suppose But what can an Englishman be dr-inq in a place like this? If it had been a trek Boer. I tfeoaki not have been surprised." Then 1 began ».. five directions about out-pannine. 27

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine We had just got the oxen out ol tbe yokes when a big. raw-boned, red-bearded, blue-eyed' roughly-clad man of about fifty years of agf appeared from the house, yawning. I threw my eye over him as ho advanced with a peculiar rolling gait, and formed certain conclusions A drunkard who has once been a gentleman 1 reflected to myself, for there was something particularly dissolu te in his appearance also one who has had to do with the sea ; a diagnosis which proved very accurate. "°wdo y°u do- Mr Allan Quatermaia ?— which I think my daughter said is your name unless I dreamed it. for it is one that I seem to have heard before." he exclaimed, with a broad Scotch accent which I do not attempt to reproduce. " What in the name of blazes brings you here, where no real white man has been for years ? Well. I am glad enough to sec you. anyway, for I am sick of half- breed Portuguese and niggers, and snuff-and-bntter girls and gin and bad whiskv. Leave your people to attend to those oxen and come in and have a drink." " Thank you. Mr. Robertson " "Captain Robertson," he interrupted Man. don't look astonished. You mightn't guess it. but I commanded a mail steamer once, and should like to bear myself called rightly again before I die," He led the way into the sitting-room— there was but one in tbe house. It proved a queer kind of place, with rude furniture seated with strips of hide after the Boer fashion, and yet bearing a certain air of refinement whichWas doubtless due to Inez, who, with the assistance of a native girl, was already engaged in setting the table. Thus there was a shell with books bliajccspeare was one of these. I noticed, over which hung an ivory crucifix, suggesting that Inez was a Catholic. On the walla, too. were two good portraits, and on the window-ledge a jar full of flowers. Also the forks and spoons were of silver, as were the mugs, and engraved with a tremendous coat-of-arms and a Portu- guese motto. Presently the food apffcared. which was ex- cellent and plentiful, and the Captain. Ms daughter and I sat down and ate. Also I noted that he drank gin and wat*r. an innocent- looking beverage, but strong as he took it. It was offered to roe. but, like Miss Inex I preferred Coffee. During tho meal and afterwards, while we smoked upon the veranda. I told them as much as I thought desirable of my plans. I said that I was engaged on a journey of ex- plorat.on of the country beyond the Zambesi and that having heard of this settlement, which %i~a"*K **" .c*Uod Steathmuir. as I gathered, after a place in far away Scotland where the Captain had been born and passed h.s childhood. I had come here to inquire as to how to cross the great river, and about other things. The Captain was interested especially when I Informed him that I «u that Same " Hunter Quatermain " of whom he had heard in past years, but told me that it would be impossible to take the wagon down into the 2S low bush-veld, which we could =«e on tbN horizon, as there all the oxen would die of tB bite of the tsetse fly. I answered that I «1 aware of this, and proposed to try to make 0 arrangement to Lave it in his charst till renamed. " That might be managed. Mr. Qua' he answered. •• But. man. will you ever turn ? They say there are queer folk on the other side of the Zambesi savage _ who are cannibals— Amahagger. 'l think th call them. It was they who in past year! cleaned out all this country, except a few riv< tribes who live in floating huts or on island among the reeds, and that's why it is so omprjt But this happened long ago. much before nij lime, and I don't suppose they will ever era* the river again," "If I might ask. what brought you her" Captain ? " I said, for the point was one which I felt curious. " That which brings most men to places Mr. Quatermain — trouble. 1 f you » to know, I had a misfortune and pded up ship. Some lives were lost, and rightly wrongly I got the sack. Then I started a a trader in a God-forsaken hole named Chinde one of the Zambesi mouths, you know aid did very well, as we Scotchmen have a way c doing. There I married a Portuguese lady. 4 real lady of high blood, one of the old sorfi Vjben my girl. Inez, was about twelve ycaffl old I got into more trouble, for my wife died, and it pleased a certain relative of hers to saf that it was because I had neglected her Tn* ended in a row. and the truth is that I killed *™' fa fight, mind you. Still, kill him f dirt, though I scarcely knew that I had dOBf it at the time, after which the place grew tot hot to hold me. So I sold up and rwort that I would have no more to do with whal they choose to call civilisation on the Eafl Coast. During my trading I had heard th3 tficre was fine country up this way. and heff I came and settled years ago. bringing art girl and Thomaao, who was one of my manaj gers. also a few other people with me. And here I have been ever since, doing very wdj as before, for I trade a lot in ivory and oth3 things, and grow stufi and cattle, which 1 sol to the river natives. Yes. I am a rich mail now and could go and five on my means Ml Scotland, or anywhere." " Why don't you ? " I asked. '• It wouM surely be better for Miss [as* 1 " "Ah I " he said, with a quiver in his voiorJ _therc you touch u She ought to go aw"*** There is no one for her to marry here, wfc we haven't seen a white man for years t— she s a lady right enough, like her moth* But who u she to go to ? Moreover she love* me in her own fashion, as I love her. and wouldn't leave roe because she thinks It us duty to stay, aad knows that if she did I shoal go to the devil altogether. Stall, perhap* T°* might help me about her. Mr. Quatermain---! that is, if you live to come back from yoBf journey." be added doubtfully. I felt inclined to ask how I coald posetb)/

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j*lp in such a matter, bat thought it wisest j*» *»y nothing. This, however, be did not "Once, lor he went on. " Now I think I will have a nap. for I do J"? work in the early morning, and sometime* *te at night when my brain seems to clear up ■gain, for yon see I was a sailor for many years «a accustomed to keeping watches. You'll **>k after yourself, won't you, and treat the Pace as your own < " Then he vanished Into «»e house to Be down. - ^'hen I had finished my pipe I went for a ^First I visited the wagon, where I *und Umslopogaas and his company engaged •■cooking the beast that had been given 7~*m Zulu fashion. Hani, with his usual **««ning. had already secured a meal, prob- ity from the servants, or from Inei herself "least be left them and followed me. First *e went down to the huts, where we saw a {*mber of good-looking women of mixed , all decently dressed and engaged about household duties. Also we saw four or boys and girls, to say nothing of a baby arms, fine young people, one or two of •nam were more white than coloured. *wT Tnc*e cluldren are very like the Baas with ™e red beard." remarked Hans reflectively. M ' Yes," I said, and shivered, lor now J under- *JOod the awfulncss of this poor man's case. *»• was the father of a number of halt- breeds •ho tied him to this spot as anchors tie a ship 1 THE SB A -COW Itt-'JTT If had been my intention to push forward the river at once, but here luck or old friend. Fate, was against me. To with several of Umslopogaas" men fell with a kind of stomach trouble, arising no bt from something they had eaten, and i-J* were many preparations to be made \ *oout the loads and so forth, since the wagon *«m be left behind. Abo. and this was an- .rjspr complication. Hans had a sore upon his kff°t resulting from the prick of a poisonous and it was desirable that this should be |Wte healed before we marched. ,£$o it came about that I was really glad when £*Ptaia Robertson suggested that we should fl»down to a certain swamp, formed. I gM tiered ,2! *^me small tributary of the Zambesi, to *«'■ part in a kind of hippopotamus battue, t * Jell in with the idea readily enough, since all my hunting life I had never seen any- B*»g of the sort, especially as I was told that ,7* expedition could not take more than a Jl k and I reckoned that the sick men and 2*ns would not be fit to travel sooner. So 'Sr^t preparations were made. The riverside ■taf. whose snare of the spoil was to be the Fwcasej of the slain sea cows, were summoned JvhnacSreds and sent off to their appointed J*** ,ai to beat the swamps at a signal given ? nnng of a great pile of reeds. Also Jz*"v other things were done upon which I ^•a not enter. *hen came the time for us to depart to the Rider Haggard appointed spot about twenty miles away, most of which distance ft seemed we could trek in the wagon Captain Robertson, who for the time had cut off his gin. was at active about the atfair as though he were once more in command of a mail steamer. Nothing es- caped his attention j indeed, in the care which he gave to details he reminded mc of the cap- tain of a great ship that was leaving port, and from it I learned how able a man he must once have been. " Does your daughter accompany us ? " I asked on the night before we started. "_Oh I no," he answered, " she would only be in the way. Sbe will be quite safe here, especially as Thomaso. who is no hunter, re- mains in charge of the place, with a few of the older natives to look after the women and children. Later I saw Ines herself, who said that she would liave liked to come, although she hated to see great beasts killed, but that her father was against it because he thought she might catch fever, so she supposed that sbe had better remain where she was. I agreed, though in my heart I was doubt- ful, and said that I was leaving Hans, whose foot was not as yet quite well, and with whom she had made friends, as she bad done with Umslopogaas, to look alter her. Also there would be with him the two great Zulus who were now recovering from their attack of •tomacli sickness, so that she had nothing to fear. She answered with her slow smile that she f cored nothing, still she should have liked to come with us. Then we parted, as it proved for a long time. It was quite a ceremony. Umslopogaas, " in the name of the Axe," solemnly gave over Iner to the charge of his two followers, bidding them guard her with so much earnestness that I began to suspect be feared something which he did not choose to mention. I also gave Hans instructions to keep a sharp eye on Inez, and generally to watch the place, and if he aaw anything suspicious, to communicate with us at once. " Yes. Baas," said Hans. I will look after 1 Sad Eyes ' " — for so. with their usual quickness of observation, our Zulus bad named Inei — " as though she were my grand mother, though what there is to (ear for her. I do not know. But. Baas. I would much rather come and look after you, as your reverend father, the Predikant, told me to do always, which is my duty, not girl-herding, Baas. Also my foot is now quite well and — I want to shoot sea-cows and " " You will atop here Hans, look after the young lady, and nurse your loot." I i sternly, whereon he collapsed with a sigh asked for some tobacco. So od we went, about twenty of the village natives, a motley crew armed with every kind of gun, marching ahead and singing song*. Then came the wagon, with Captain Robert- son and myself seated on the driving box and lastly Umslopogaas and his Zulus, except the two who bad been left behind 29

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine Before nightfall we came to a ridge where this bosh-veld turned south, fringing that tributary of the great river in the swamps of which we were to hunt for sea-cows. Here we camped, and next morning, leaving the wagon in charge of my voorlooper and a couple of the Strathmuir natives, for the driver was to act as my gun-bearer, we marched down into the sea of bush-veld. It proved to be full of game, but at this we dared not fire, for fear of disturbing the hippopotami in the swamps beneath, whence in that event they might escape us back to the river. About midday we passed out of the bush- veld and reached the place where the drive was to be. Here, bordered by steep banks covered with bush, was a swamp not more than three hundred yards wide, down the centre of which ran a narrow channel of rather deep water, draining a vast expanse of morass above. It was up this channel that the sea-cows travelled to tho feeding-ground, where they loved to collect at this season of the year. Here, with the assistance of some of the river- side native— the rest, to the number of several hundreds, had made a wide detour to the head Of the swamps, miles away, whence we were to advance at a certain signal — we made our preparations under the direction of Captain Robertson. These were simple. A quantity of thorn-trees were cut down, and, by means of heavy stones tied t" their trunks, anchored in the narrow channel of deep water, while to their tops, which floated on the placid surface, were tied a variety of rags which we had brought with ns, such as ok! rod flannel shirts, gay-coloured but worn-out blankets, and I know not what besides. Some ol these frag- ments, too, were attached to the anchored ropes under water. Also we selected places for the guns upon the steep banks that I have mentioned, between which this channel ran. Foreseeing what would happen, I chose one for myself behind a particularly sound rock. and. what is more, built a stone wall to the height of several feet on the landward side o! it, as I guessed that the natives posted above me would prove wild in their shooting. These labours occupied the rest of that day. and at night we retired to higher ground to sleep Before dawn on the following morning we returned and took up our stations, some on one side of the channel and some on the other, which vre had to reach in a canoe bought for the purpose from the river native*. Then, before the sun rose. Captain Robert son fired a huge pile of dried reeds and bushes, which (rat to give the signal to the river natives far away to begin therr beat This i lone, we sat down and waited, after making Mire thai every gun had plenty of ammunition ready. As the dawn broke, by climbing a tree n«ar my tt Annie, or shelter. I saw a good many mils* away to the south a wide circle of little fire*, and guessed that the natives were beginning to burn the drv reeds of the swamp in response to our signal's. Presently these fires drew together into a thin wall of flame. Then I knew that it was time to return to the scJuui and prepare. It was full daylight, howevc before anything happened. Watching the still channel of water. I ripples on Tt and bubbles of air rising. S« denly appeared the head of a great bull! hippopotamus, which, having canght sight off our barricade, cither above or below wateffl bad risen to the surface to see what it mighfl be. I put a bullet from an eigiit-boro rirt<J through its brain, whereon it sank, as I guessed* stone dead to the bottom of the channel. tbidB helping to increase the barricade by the bulk! of its great body. Also it had another eliect-1 I have observed that sea-cows cannot bear theft smell and taint of blood, which frightens thernl liorribly. so that they will expose thcmsclvem to almost any risk rather than get it into theoj nostrils. Now. In this still water, where ther was no perceptible current, the blood from dead bull soon spread all about, so that wbc the herd began to arrive, following their leadc they were terribly frightened Indeed. tu<l first of them, on winding or tasting it. turned and tried to get back up the channel, whe however, they met others following, and th« ensued a tremendous confusion. They « to the surface, blowing, snorting, bellowing and scrambling over each other in the water, while continually more and more arrived boj hind them, till there was a perfect pandetnoniufl^ in that narrow place. All our guns opened fire wildly upon mass; it was like a battle, and through t smoke I canght sight of the riverside nati who were acting as beaters, advancing !»■■ away, fantastically dressed, •creaming wiaj excitement and waving spears, or sometime^ torches of flaming reeds. Most of thew me* were scrambling along the banks, bnt some 01 the bolder spirit* advanced over the lagoon it canoes, driving the hippopotami towards th* mouth of the channel by which alone the) could escape into the great swamps below aM so on to the river. In all my hunting expert1 ence I do not think I ever saw a more remark able scene. Still, in a way to me it was n« pleasant, for I flatter myself that I am < sportsman, and a battue of this sort i« 00V sport as I understand the term. I At length it came to this : the channel fi*| quite a long way was literally full ol hi potami — I shoul'l think there must have a hundred of them or more if all sorts sires, from great bulls down to little caK Some of these were killed, not many, for shooting of our gallant company was execr and almost at hazard, though for every cow that died, of which number [ think Captain Robertson and myself accounted most, many were only wonnded. Still the unhappy beasts, crazed with and tire and blood, did not seem to dare face oar frail barricade, probably for reason that 1 have given For a while remained missed together in the water, _ under it making a most horrible noise Th^j of a sudden they seemed to take a resolution, A few of them broke back towards the burt»- 30

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Rider Haggard steep Surprising agility. PtOceedinM that 1*8 r»?ds. the screaming beaters, and the •uvancing canoes. One of these, indeed, a Jonnded bull, charged a canoe, crushed it iu «• huge jaws, and lulled the rower, bow exactly Ido not know, for his body was never found •he majority of them, however, took another •ouns-l, for. emerging from the water on either •Ide, they began to scramble towards us along steep banks, or even to climb up them with It was at this point in the ugs that I congratulated myself , «*rnc .tlv upon the solid character of the *»tcr-w'orn rock which I had selected as a Etcher ^Behind tins rock. together with ray gun- °*»rer and Cmslopogaas. who. as he did not •booi had elected to be my companion. 1 crouched and banged away at the unwieldy ' creatures as they advanced. But fire fast as * niight with two rifles. I could not stop the half of them, and they were drawing unplea- **ntly near. I glanced at Umslopogaas. and ',**en then was amosed to see that probably t *«■ the first time in his life that redoubtable [*farrior was in a genuinr fright. " Thi»i-> madness. Macutnaxahn," he shouted pabove the din "• Are we to stop here and be t stamped flat by a horde of water- pigs I 1^ " It secin-. so." I answered. " unless you pre- FtT to be stamped flat outside, or eaten." I |?dded. pointing to a great crocodUe that bad *J*o emerged from the channel and was coming ilong towards us with open jaws ".By the Axe!" shouted I nudopogaas " >. " I v ;!! not d!c thuv trodden on like a "v an ox." I have mentioned a tree which I !n bis extremity I'mslopogaas foe that tree and went up it like a lamp- ter. just as the crocodile wriggled past it* nk snapping at bis retreating legs. Alter L'm** ' to°* no more note of him. partly because I °" the advancing sea-cows, and more for the [' r*a*on that one of the village natives posted ■jjjove me. firing wildly, put a large round l£tllet through the sleeve of my coat Indeed. It *"*d it not been for the wall which 1 built that I F'dected ns. I am certain that both my ■ *nd 1 would have been Willed, for after I found it splashed over with lead from ^"►ta which had struck the stones L "ell thanks to the strength of my rock and 5 the wall. or. as Hans said afterwards, tc Stall's "Great Medicine." we escaped unhurt rush went by me , indeed. I killct setting oil to do so. Seeing his agitated state. 1 thought it wise>t to follow him. What happened need not be set out in detail. It is suthcient to sav that he found that hippopotamus, and biased both barrels at it in the bushes, hitting it, but not seriously. Out lumbered the creature with its mouth open, wishing to escape. Robert- son turned to fly. as he was in its path, bui from one cause or another tripped and fell down. Certainly he would have !«n crushed beneath it* huge feet had I not stepped in front of him and sent two solid eight bore bullets down that yawning throat killing it dead within three feet ol where Robertson was try- Ins to rise, and I may add of my veil This narrow escape sobered him. and I am bound to say that his gratitude was profuse •• You are a brave man," he said. " and had ■ i not been lor you, by now I should be wher- ever bad people go. I'll not forget it. Mr Quatermain. and If ever you want anything that John Robertson can give why. it's voure." Very well," I answered, being seised by an Inspiration, " I do want something that you can give easily enough." " Give it a name and ifs yoots- half mv place. If you like " I want." I went on. as I slipi»ed new car- s'

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine tridge* into the rifle — " I want you to promise to give up drink for your daughter's soke. That's what nearly did for you just now, you know." " Man, yon ask a hard thing," he said slowly, " but, by God. I'll try for bcr sake and yours too." Then I went to help to set the leg of the in- jured man, which was all the rest I got that morning. CHAPTER VII THE OATH We spent three more days at that place. First it was necessary to allow time to elapse before the gases which generated in their great bodies caused those ol the sea-cows which had been killed in the water to float. Then tUey must be skinned and their thick hides cut into strips and pieces to be traded for sjamboks, or to make small native shields, for which some of the Fast Coast tribes will pay heavily, AD this took a long while, during which I amused, or disgusted myself in watching those river natives devouring the flesh of the beasts. The lean, what there was of it. they dried and smoked into a kind of " biltong," but a great deal of the fat they ate at once. I had the curiosity to weigh a lump which was given to one thin, hungry-looking fellow. It scaled quite twenty- fivo pounds. Within four hours he had eaten it to the last ounco and lay there, a distended and torpid log. What would not we white people give for such a digestion I At lost all was over, and we started home- wards, the man with a broken leg being carried in a kind of Utter. On the edge of the bush- veld we found tho wagon quite safe, also one of Captain Robertson's that had followed us from Strathmuir in order to carry the ex- pected load of hippopotamus bides and ivory. I asked my voorlooper if anything had hap- pened during our absence. lie answered no- thing, but that on the previous evening, after dark, he had seen a glow in the direction uf Strathmuir, which lay on somewhat lower ground about twenty miles away, as though numerous fires had been lighted there. It struck him so much, he added, that he had climbed a tree to observe it better. He did not think, however, that any building bad been burned then*, as the glow waa not strong enough for that I suggested that it was caused by some grass fire or reed-burning, to which he replied in- dift erently that he did not think so. as the line of glow was not strfbciently continuous. There tho matter ended, though I confess that the story made roe anxious, for what exact reason I could not say. Umsiopogaas also, who bad listened to it, for the talk was In Zulu, looked grave, but made no remark. But as since his tree climbing experience he had been aingularlv silent of this I thought little. We had trekked at a rime which we calcu- lated would bring us to Strathmuir about an hour before sundown, allowing for a short outspan hall-way. As my oxen were got in I more quickly than those of the other w after this outspan. I was the first away lowed at a little distance by Umslopogaas, preferred to walk with his Zulus. The t was, that 1 could not get that story about glow of fires out of my mind, and was anxi to push on. which had caused me to hurry the inspanuing. Perhaps we had covered a couple of m of the ten or twelve winch lay between us Strathmuir. when, far ort on the crest of of the waves of the veld which much resemblo those of a swelling sea frozen while in mo I saw a small figure approaching us at a r trot. Somehow that figure suggested to my mind, so much so that I got my to examine it more closely. A short sera through them convinced me that Hans it Hans and no other, advancing at a great, t Filled with uneasiness. I ordered the to flog up the oxen, with the result tittle over five minutes we met. wagon. I leapt from the wagon- box. and, ca, to Umalopogaas, who had kept up with u» a slow, swinging trot, went to Hans, when he saw me. stood suit at a little distal swinging his apology for a hat in has band, was his fashion when ashamed or perplexed " What is the matter, Hans - " 1 ask when we were within sj>eaking distance " Oh I Baas, everything." he answered a* I noticed that he kept his eyes fixed upon tB ground, and that his lips twitched. " Speak, you fool, and in Zulu." I by now Umslopogaas bad joined " Baas," he answered in that terrible thing has come about at the fan Red-Beard yonder. Yesterday eiteroo: the time when people are in the habit of i ing there till the sun grows les* hot. a body1 great men with licrco faces, who carried spears — perhaps there were fifty of them, — crept up to the place through the long j and growing crops and attacked it " " Did yon see them come i " I 1 No. Baas. I was watching at a tance. a) you bade me do. ana the sun hot I shut my eyes to keep out the glare so that I did not see them until they passed me and heard the noise." ' You mean that you were asleep or drt Hans, but go on. " : know." he answered shaS rr that I climbed a tall ib at the top of if 1 I afterwards that this was a sort at I crowned palm'-. " and from it I saw every tbl without being seen." " What did yon sec Hans ■ " I asked " I vi w the big mm run up and make a of circle round the village Then they shoal and the people in the village came out to ' what was the matter. Tbomaso and sooMQ the men caught sight of them first and away last up the bW-side at the bach wi^ the trees grow, before the arcle was cuuipMB Then the women and the children came ■ and the big men killed them with their : all. all 1 " 32

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* Udy Sad-Eyes ume out on to the ttotp, and with her came the two 2«>w «* *»• • *ho had bren left sick, but were now quite recovered. A number of the big men ran *h°U£h to take her. but the two Zulu* made a great fight in front of the little steps to the *• ha-ina their backa protected by the tltttp, and killed mix of them before they thcrmetv«.i Skilled, Also Sad-Eyes shot one with a pistol she carried, and wounded mother so that the spear dropped out of his hand. 33

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine -Good Cod!" I exclaimed. »ABd wH»t hardened at ibe house and to the My ? 1 Baas some of the BtttD had surrounded tbaX and when she heard the noise, the ladv Sad-Eycs came out on to the slotp. and with her came the two Zulus ol the Axe who had been left sicl;. butwere now qinterecovcrcd. A number of the big men ran as though to 'W her but the two Zulus nude a great fight in front of the little steps to the having their backs protected by the stoep. and MM alx of them before they themselves were killed. Also Sad- 1:- yes shot one with a pistol slie carried, and wounded another so that the spear dropped out of his hand. Then the rest fell on her and tied her up. setting her in a chair on the step where two remained to watch her. They did her no hurt, Baas ; indeed, they seemed to treat her as gently as they could. Also they went into the house, and there they caught that tall yellow girl who always smiles aud is tailed Jancc, she who waits upon the Lady Sad-Eyes, and brought her out to her. I think "they told her. Baas, that she must look after her mistress, and that if she tried to run away she would be killed, for afterwards I saw Jancc bring her food and other things." •' And then, Hans ? " " Then. Baas, most of the great men rested a while, though some of them went through the store gathering such things as they liked, blankets knives, and iron cooking-pots, but they set fire to nothing, nor did they try to catch the cattle. Also they took dry wood from the pile and lit big fires, eight or nine of them, and when the sun set they began to feast. " " What did they feast on, Hans, if they took no cattle ? " I asked with a shiver, for I was afraid of I knew not what. "Baas" answered Hans, turning his head away and looking at the ground, *' they feasted on the children whom they had killed, also on some of the young women. These tall soldiers are mcn-eatcrs Baas! " At this horrible intelligence 1 turned faint, and felt as though I was going to fall, but, re- covering myself, signed to him to go on with liis story, " They feasted quite quietly, Baas." he con- tinued, "making no noise. Then some of them slept while others watched, and that went on all night. As soon as it was dark but before the moon rose, I slid down the tree and crept round to the back of the house without being seen or heard, as I can, Baas I got into the house by the back door and crawled to the window of the sitting-room It was open. and peeping through I saw Sad- tyes still tied to the scat on the stoep not more than a pace away, while the girl Jance crouched on the floor at her fcct-I think she was asleep or fainting. t.i«tLBUdcJ*.litUe noi3e' ,ikc a nhJht-addcr hiding, aud kept on making it, till at last Sad-Eyes turned her head. Then I spoke q t^Zi fM fcar lcst 1 OwuW «ake the ft o guards who were dozing on cither side ire u com™* .» in, next nmber oj .. Hlll.hlllS0tt. of her wrapped in their blanket! un*. • h ts I. Hans, come to help vou,' ''You , not,' she answered, also speaking very i£ ■Ol to your master, and tell him and » father to follow. These men axe aS Amahaggcr. and live far away across the They arc going to take me to their home u 1 understand, to rule over them, became tin want a white woman to be their queen i2 have always bceu ruled by a white Que* ' against whom they have rebelled. I d0 ^ think they mean to do rao any harm, uniaj perhaps they w ant to marry mc to their chief but of this I am not sure from their Ulk. trbidi I understand badly. Now go, before they catch yon.' •• • I think you might get away,1 1 whispered I back. ' I will cut your bonds. When yt* arc free, slip through the window and I \ri| guide you." " ' Very well, try it," she said " So I drew my knife and stretched out my arm. But then. Baas, I showed myself a iool —if the Great Medicine had still been there 1 should have knowu better. I forgot the moonlight, which shone upon the blade of the knife. That girl Jancc came out of her sleep or swoon, lifted her head, and saw the knife. She screamed once, then at a word from her mistress was silent. But it w.15 enough, for it woke up the guards, who glared about then and threatened Jance with their great spears, also they went to sleep no more, but began to talk together, though what they said I cooM not hear, for I was hiding on the floor of the room. After this, knowing that I could do bo good and might do harm and get myself lolled, 1 crept out oi the house as 1 had crept in, and got back to my tree." " Why did you not come to me ? " I asked " Because I still hoped I might be able to help Sad-Eyes. Baas. Also I wanted to see what happened, and I knew that 1 could not bring you here in time to be any good, though it is true I thought of coming." " Perliaps you were right " " At the first dawn." continued Hans, "the great men who are called Aniahagger rose and ate what was left over from the night before. Then they gathered themselves together and went to ihc house. Here they found a large chair, that seated with rimpis in which the Haas Kcd- Beard sits, and lashed two poles to the chair. Beneath the chair thoy tied the garments and other things of the Lady Sad- Eyes, which thev made Janee gather as SaA Eyes directed her. This done, very gently they sat Sad- Eves herself in the chair, bowing while they made her fast. After this eight of them set the poles upon their shoulders, and they all went away at a trot, heading for the bush- veld, driving a herd of goats which they had stolen from the farm, and making JaW* run by the chair. I saw everything, Baas. K» they passed just beneath my tree. Then > came to seek you, following the outward ipo* of the wagons. That is all, Baas." s Story Maga:iiu.' 34

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KATHLYN RHODES Author ol "The Deiert-Drenmer*," "The Lure of the De»crt," etc. • VI • He who tuirdi the oriw^w S«lim. Iho flerce«l •B=l-Fff*nJ|.itwerofollTtoJlhrow«W«TOne.llfe. Ho who «u«ro -* BSSSSJ ?S&£1& *• prUooc, f- .oin. «o ... hUn ou, o, th., h«*-~-. ow HO von played Cain to your brother his indiscretion, made haste to change the S ^ii^ ^ the way lO you played Cain to your brother Abel. eh. Achmed ? Well, murder seems to sit pretty lightly on your soul, you brown rascal ! " The man addressed, who squatted, cross- legged, on the sand outside the tent, grinned cheerfully, and answered the in- dictment with an insouciance which was out of keeping with its gravity. •' .My brother, he one big size villain, Effend'i. He steal mv money, he steal my land, he take my wife. So I kUl him. But I take care, the village think he die by accident. And now he sorry for his wickedness, no ? " ' ■ Can' t say. Achmed. Depends on what particular Yiell or heaven he's got to. But tell me. did the act of killing give you satisfaction ? You got your 'land back . And your wife ? " Over the rascally brown face there feu, on the instant, a ved of reserve, the reserve in which an Arab wraps himself at mention of his womonkind. And Amory, regretting , didn't I see the Letters for me, runner I sup- here to-night ? ^Immediately the brown face shed its unaccustomed reticence, and became a chuckling mask once more. " Letters- aiwa. EfTcnd.— many letters for Mistaire h' Amory b'etquiie I " " Well, where are they ? Look sharp, you brown image, or I shall have to liven vour wits with my riding whip I > Quite unmoved by the threat. Achmed produced a bundle of letters from some Lysuiious hiding-place in his vo u.« robe, and handed them gaily to his master - Here they be. Effcndi. Is it the Eflc-ndi's pleasure that 1 now take my evening meal ? " Amory's eyes were on his letters. •• yes; Clear out and leave me in ?C-:CA iwa, ECendi." Achmed sprang agilely 35

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine to his feet. " There is much talk in the village to-night. One has just come in from yonder" — he waved vaguely over the desert — with a tale of strange doings in the harim of Moussa Bey. ..." Araory paid no heed to the tentative remark, and with a shrug of the shoulders Achmed departed serenely in quest of the cotts-cous and the gossip which awaited him in the huddle of mud huts known as th>' village of El-Khatum. ' Evening was falling gently over the desert. The sky was softly afire with pale green and paler violet hues, in the midst of which the round ball of gold which was the sun trod delicately, his steps veiled in a mist of tender, floating cloud. A little breeze wandered fitfully over the face of the desert, whispering faint promises of the joys of the starlit night to come, and in- deed above the sandhills in the east one silver star already trembled in the pale firmament. Amory's wliite tent looked strange, almost eerie, in the silent space which sur- rounded it. True, the mud village was only a quarter of a mile away, and to the north, looking, in the clear desert light, but a Btone's throw distant, stood the great Villa of the powerful Moussa Bey, the mansion of delight to which the owner was wont to resort when the cares of business had pressed too closely upon his shoulders. Yet the little white tent seemed a symbol of some strange solitude, a challenge flung in the face of that civilisation which insists that man shall herd with his fellow men. shall build houses and streets of houses, and avoid, as it were a plague, the wide and open spaces of the earth. And the little tent spoke truly ; for in it there dwelt a soul in rebellion, in revolt against the treachery of man. the weakness of woman, against the double betrayal which had driven a trusting fool into the wilderness in a vain attempt to forget his too confident folly. Yet as he bent over his letters to-night Christopher Amory's face was not alto- gether hard. It was as though in the slow atrophy of his affections one small area were left untouched; as though in a heart devastated by the great fires oi hatred and contempt and lust for vengeance there yet dwelt some softer emotion, tomv tiny flicker of that warm humanity which had been well-nigh extirpated by a ruthless hand. Such, at least, would have been the conclusion of a psychologist watching him to-night; and the diagnosis would have kmory heffl I i the world! been correct ; for in his hand A a letter from the one person in for whom he knew a real and very powerful! affection — his brother Ivor. He read the letter eagerly, until he eamsj to the hated name of his supplanter ; and! then hi9 face changed from a half-wistfuf| protectiveness to a rancour which was noi assumed. "... they say — the doctors — Joan's chest is weak, and so Dorricn taking her out to Egvpt. Some peo have all the luck— 1'vo had a cold all t winter, but no one thinks of taking me o there 1 Thought I'd warn you, in you ran against them in one of your visit* to Cairo. I know, of course, they treatea you abominably, but still — I suppose they couldn't help it. could they ? It wouldj have been worse if she had married yoil| and then bolted with him — and he's really; quite a decent chap when you know him." With an impatient exclamation crushed the letter in his hand. The of the desert had been rudely distu this chattering echo of a sordid tragedy and he would read no farther. Yet aft' a moment he felt remorse for the way 1 bad treated the letter of the brother 1 loved ; and he smoothed out the crumples] sheet and read it, grimly, to the end. At the bottom of the last sheet came scribbled postscript. " Since writing the above some thin rather jolly has happened. No time U more, but prepare for a surprise who next you benr from me 1 " " A rise in screw, or maybe he's sold picture — at last I " His smile was hal amused, half-bitter. " Well. I've neve had any luck — perhaps it's coming his w*J instead t " Rising abruptly, he went into the tentJ and dispatched the frugal meal \vhjd| awaited him. Then, filling his pipe, ljj came out again to wait for Achmed. »hflj would presently bring the horses for til usual evening ride. . The swift twilight had come and pass*Jl while he sat eating, and now night UlJ mysterious, silver, star-lit. upon the f»*J of the desert. In the sky the great brigjj stars hung in clusters, and the moon »9 rising, sliding into view like a huge of gold behind a clump of ragged pain It was very still, very tranquil. v« peaceful. Yet in the heart of the dweller there reigned no peace, chaotic welter of emotion in strangely, lor he was no egoist, self- had its place. 36 >.thii*- I d. ve«fl

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fcheH'^ ,oved tbe desert, loved to feel « th« »£1,,,pi,,g betwee" his horse's hoofs * in m, ndered ^""S in ^ "^P3* dawn. « the velvety moonlight ; loved to sit i th . camp fires of the nomads, to listen fcutT.?°ngs' to deep, later, to the throb- «v?rt *by of their uttIc drams. He ^ktion Solitude' the c°mplete. unbroken •e^'>',:, 'liere were times, too, when he n*tilw lor hls k,r,d' whcn the home-loving ,f «, . \* hlch ""planted in the breasts M U 1 Prini',ive cave-dwellers rose "aia v-r^atcncd to overwhelm him with a '"us*, k' "n "f a nome • ■ • not merely a lt^> cut some dwelling sanctified by the •jRn . *f °} a woman, with tender eyes and *qtii«.« ' Cyes and nair reproduced in iinVT' te miniature in the child who crept. Sg t0 hcr side- • '°uldi,this home might have been his, roe t, ave b*60 his if a woman had been her promise, if a man had shown *'»rtf,y of a life-long friendship. . . . ,}Thj? horses. Effendi! Yoi ilk ' •• moon is up and i are ready, the desert ed up at his in spite of ■fen^,. m the moonlight, and Arnory's facial muscles relaxed. I!lt*rv r * ,ra,r'c,fle you're a remarkably r"'hw^'Ul Athmed ] l m sure if I had a PrWdn'.8 murder on my conscience I I "v.* like that ! fin. no. sare." returned the **">'• " Where will the Effendi to ride ? The stars shine, our Orw. .r°, ndc The stars shine. • J »et are shod with silver." b»fcateDow. . yes. But " Amorv •'On-i somehow I feel to-night as ^7%JL.waoted company. Come, Ach- *JI UkT° re a gregarious fellow. Can't *«ge i" 10 *°me entertainment in t be I^Pute ? °r *** then nomads Mlw. if, 1,1 l|r» easy distance of us ? I'm ; - -n . oor ior adventure, not contcm- %cr ' night '. " I*'0** Achmed'8 face stole an extra- P*"-! *Prwa«on. It was as though tw. . F"^ri Ru****"1*** and caution, warred ■g^jnn- as though he wished, yet tt^"'1' I 0,8 kc some proposal to the 1-Ookmg at him closely. Amory *» of an excitement which bad ii'*>utoaped *"* notice •' and marking • hrOWri*L eyes, the nervous gestures of Kathlyn Rhodes "*Own 1. r e nervous gestures of *W d*' hc 8nes»ed that the Aiab vm < *"th somc tecret which he ^'hi..; lc*red. to disclose. UP- Achmcd i " His own 37 cyes began to shine. '* Is there some tomasha in the villugc, or what is it that's making you so fey ? Out with it. man. and if it's allowable for a stranger to participate, why. I'll join in with all my heart ! " Suddenly the Arab's expressive face grew serious, almost solemn. It was evident that in his dark soul he was debating some weighty matter, and Amory stood, motion- less, schooling himself to patience unjil the decision should be made. "Effendi" — his voice was hurried— " there is much talk in the village to-nigbt. It is said, by one wlio knows, that there will be a tragedy in the harim of Moussa Bey ere dawn treads the eastern sky with rosy feet ! " " A tragedy — in the harim ? " Aiwa. Effendi. For it is said that my Lord the Bey. returning from a journey into the Fayum, discovered that a thief had sought ' to rob him of his choicest treasure, had laid plans to cull from his garden the fairest rose I " " Which, being interpreted, means that some inmate of the harim has been giving the glad eye to an outsider. I suppose ! " He laughed cynically. " Well, seeing what an old swine the Bey is. I wouldn't blame any of his beau tic* casting looks at a handsome gardener I " " I do not understand your words. Effendi." Achmed was affronted at this light treatment of a serious subject. " The elad-% ... I know not what it means Yet it is like to be an unlucky matter for the Roumi who was discovered in the gardens of the Aarrw by my Lord the Bey." . Hold on a minute. Achmcd I " His voice was startled. " What's that yon say — the Roumi ? D'you mean an English- man's been playing the fool with the Bey's women ? But there isn't an Englishman nearer than Cairo • " " Yet is it so, Effendi. Tbe man was discovered, in the moment of the Bey's return, by Sclim. the keeper of the harim. in the act of dallying with the beautiful Fatma ; and was dragged before the Bcv. who cast him into the hut at the entrance to the gardens while he debated what fate should be meted out to the wretched dchlcr of the hanm." " But, I say. Achmed. this can' t goon I " At the hint of danger to a countryman Amory was another pcrton. as quick and alert as he had before been indifferent, un- interested. " Whv. God only knows what will happen to the' fellow if he's left to the Bey » tender metrics! "

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine " Allah truly may know, but the mercies of Shaitan will be more tender than those of my lord," returned the Arab calmly. " It is said that already Selim has begun to sharpen his knife, for flesh is tough, and it would tarnish the pride of the fellow should he fail to slice off the Roumi's ears neatly at a blow ! " " For God's sake shut up. you callous brute ! " Amory felt physical nausea at the words. " D'you mean to say the Bey will be devil enough to cut off the chap's ears ? " " Even so. Eflendi." Achmed spoke sullenly, not relishing the other's epithets. " First the cars, then perchance the fingers and the toes. If my lord's thirst for vengeance be then sated, it may be he will let the Roumi go, but if not — who knows ? There are hot irons which gouge out the eyes, and it is possible for a clever man to slice off the nose at one stroke. The tongue, too, it is easily torn from the mouth. ..." " Good God, Achmed. do you want to drive me mad ! You stand there and coolly tell me a white man is to be tortured to death by that devil incarnate, the Bey " " The Roumi would have outraged the Bey's honour, have defiled the pride of the harim." Achmed was still sullen. " It is but justice that the lord of the household should avenge himself on the robber. ..." " But not with hot irons! " Amory's whole being was aflame at the thought of his compatriot's danger. '* Oh. you can't see it, of course ! I expect if the truth be known you murdered your unfortunate brother in some pretty devilish fashion ! But this thing has got to be stopped. There's no time for the authorities to take a hand if the entertainment is to come off at dawn. We've jolly well got to stop it, but how ! " The Arab stared, aghast. " Eflendi, what is the meaning of these words ? It is madness, surely, which speaks in them 1 '* " Madness — no, rather sheer horse sense I " Amory's previous languor had dropped from him like an ill-fitting gar- ment, he was a man of action once more. " You may do as you please, but I'm going over yonder"— he waved towards the Villa—" to have a shot at rescuing the poor brute." " But — Eflendi, it were folly to throw away one's life! He who guards the prisoner is Selim. the fiercest and strongest of all the guard!! " " I don't care if Shaitan himself guards the prisoner. I'm going to get him out o that hell — somehow 1 " He spoke reso- lutely, and Achmed realised he meant do this thing. " Eflendi. it is madness ! " He spokJ earnestly. " Selim will never permit th Eflendi to approach the hut where guards the captive. He will fight, ESendfl to the death, lest worse befall him at th hands of the Bey his lord. And he strong; one blow from his fist . crrrc ! " He made a feint of collapsing the sand. , " Strong, eh ? Then we must opL strength with cunning." He medita a moment. " See here, you know t fellow. Is he fond of money — would it possible to bribe him ? " Achmed shook his head. He is doubtless a thief, as are all t hirim guards, scum that they are ! spat virtuously into the sand. " Yet would be afraid to take a bribe. . " Well, for God's sake suggest thing I Would it be possible to make drunk ? I have a drug which easily a man to sleep for an hour Achmed looked dubic " That might be done, is no true follower a fondness for wine. But he would drink with the Eflendi. for even his wits would suspect a trick " "Listen, Achmed!" A light sprung into Amory's eyes. " What's prevent me dressing up in that Arab rig mine and posing as' a date-merchant, something of the sort ? It would natural for a stranger passing by to and speak — ask the way maybe, and a drink m return for the information." Very slowly a grin began to sprea Achmed's brown face, for the plan, all its risks, suited his bold nature ; afl* indeed the whole adventure was more q his liking than he chose to admit. " Eflendi, it is a good plan. In Jrut* this Sclim is a vain fellow, for ever boa*ti«J of his strength, and it would be a pious to lay his pride in the dust." " Quite so." Amory guessed shrew <* hastened to pour forth flattery. " t*J plan is good ; and it were wise to set a b^ it without delay. Indeed ,t 1S „ grr'1 38

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Kathlyn Rhodes His manner was ?nteT>rise— and Allah, they sav. loves ever * oold and courageous spirit I " onti}* an h"ur ,ater two riders drew rein n the outskirts of the Bey's gardens. The rn ,n which the captive languished. Sit? by the m'ghty Sclim. was just ^««out the confines of the great domain. Wit WaS * stron8'y constructed place. .1- 1 stone, with a massive door and uts «n the winduwlcss walls. the^ IOn?' dcnsc bc,t oi paJms had hidden a,,-, aPProa«h of the horsemen from the fcu-rchan of the hut. and from behind a rjnvenient tree the riders were able to ScJ °*4 i takc c**1"18*1 ""th myself as to 4oq'. ■ hurry up and decide. Sure you •• ^ *ant me to go on alone ? " tlfc £*y. my lord. Vet I would not that , dl go forward without due know- •* what awaitcth him in the person •■7£ miserable prisoner." 1 pt— except " ^terf^y a passage from Ivors letter "' , »U front of lus eyes. • Joan's chest is weak, and so " D»d ** Ukln8 her out to Egypt " *» you learn the name ol the Roumi, Yet Christopher Amory sat motionless on his hone, with God knows what thoughts passing through his brain. Here, at last, was an opportunity to get even with his supplanter. He had but to simulate a sudden cowardice, to throw up the game, and Dorrien would go to his death, helpless as a stricken animal. Vengeance for his treachery had been slow- but sure He who had betrayed his friend should in his turn be betrayed ; and the mental torture he had inflicted on a living man's soul should be expiated by the pangs of physical anguish. Yet, as he sat on his horse, an ominously still figure in the moonlight. Amory's brow was wet. For he knew well enough that this was a shameful thing which he pro- posed to do. To allow a man to die, horribly, at the hands of a coloured torturer in order that a thirst for revenge might be slaked — it was a crime at which the lowest criminal might well shudder. . . . And yet — this man had done him the worst injury a man could do. had done it. moreover, under the guise ol friendship; and no death could be too vile for the traitor. That the woman would sutler did he allow this man to die he knew well enough ; but in his present mood he could look even on ber prospective sufferings unmoved. On every hand he felt his inaction to be justified. And yet— Dorrien was a com- patriot, they (MM* brothers in the nudst of an alien people, and it was not according 39

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine ithat the bauds of an inferior race.... Half a doien yards away Aclimcd, the chc r ul .layer of 1 he brother *M betrayed him, waited sflently aware t a some conflict whose nature he ecu d not determine was being waged beneath the Efrehdi'J passive cxler.or. For his part to was anxious to get the matter done with, since even- moment's delay increased the probability of detection; yet something, a force which he felt, but could not analyse, kept him silent as the minutes sped. Suddenly Amory raised his head. The battle was over, and he had lost. His personal vengeance must wait, while com- mon humanity rescued Ihe hated prisoner from the death no Englishman should die : but the emotion with which he set about his risky task was very clii.ercnt from the spirit of high adventure in which the risk had been so joyfully undertaken. The rescue was simple enough after all To fc'elim the presence of the supposed daU- merdiant was eaiily accountable; and he gave the required directions glibly, pleased, posfibly, by the welcome break in the monotony of his watch; while an invitation to a cup of wine was equally urelc 'me. Amory had made no mistake in his preparation of the draught ; and ten minutes later the giant lay in a slumber so deep that the further proceedings of the night hold no interest for him. Tne key of the hut abstracted from his clothing, the door readily yielded to pressure : and a minute afterwards Amory entered the noisome place, his heart no longer beating with excitement, but throbbing heavily with resentment against the fite which had placed him in the position of saviour to his enemy. The man who crouched in the darkest corner of the hut, muttering wild prayers, did not look up at the entry of the sup- pled Arab. Rather he shrank farther back into the shadow, certain, poor wrotch, that hut doom was upon him, and lacking the courage to face that dreadful doom as a man should do. Even in the midst of his distaste Amory felt a cold contempt for the cowardly ••In inking ; and in spite of himself his voice vibrated with" hatred as he said, bending over the dimlvfren, huddled form: " Come, Dorricn. you needn't stop here severing. The door is open and you m get outside as fast as you like." There was no reply ; only a sort of in. stantaneous stiffening came over the trembling form, as though the captive wen struck, suddenly, to a petrified attention; and Amory. feeling his dislike for the job increasing momentarily, made no attempt to disguise file harshness of his tone as he condescended to further mgings. •• You'd belter dear out il you don't want that black devil to interfere. Pnii your-clf together, man! You're safe, I tell you, if you'll only take a brace on yourself and get out while 1 here's time ! " Still the man made no effort to obey; and losing all patience. Amory shook him roughly by the shoulder and turned him round to face his deliverer. The next moment a great cry rang through the hut : but . was the rescuer, not the rescued, who shrank back, appalled at the realisation of the thing he liad so nearly done. The man who. but for his intervention, would have died, shamefully, at dawn, was his brother Ivor. "Chris! Oh my God, you! Get me out of this hole, for Christ's sake I C>uick — don't stand staring at me! I'll explain —everything— afterwards! " As one in a dream Amory pointed to the open door, and as one in a dream the boy stumbled through it. Ordered by a gesture to mount behind his brother, he obeyed; and a moment later three rode back across the desert whence only two had come. As the dawn began to break in the eastern sky Amory stood before his te]H watching half a dozen Arabs riding towards! ' airo. One of them was strangely fair. I ; e ves i ddly blue for an Arab, but hs dress was that of a native, and few would challenge him or his hardy escort. Explanations between the brothers bad b en brief. The surprise of which ltfl lnd written was the invitation of Dorrwu t > accompany him and his wile to Cairo; and he had ridden out to El-KhalummeWjl ing to take his brother unawares. That he had turned aside, lured by a pair J| dark eyes taking a forbidden peep i- ver the harim wall was merely an accident— WMl had been like to end in a tragedy. ^ And a* for the envelope bearing Dorricn's na*23 had Anion' tinned it over he would have 40

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Kathlyn Rhodes teen, on the reverse side, a rough sketch of the route from Cairo. Thoroughly Sobered by his narrow uth. " Au revoir for a little while, Achmed ben Hassan." His voice held a hint of cynicism. " We shall meet again pres- ently. We are fit companions, you and 1. YOB slew your brother and 1 saved mine : but Allah knows there is precious little difference between us after all I " And while the Arab stood, looking nfier him in perplexity, and the sun lose joyously over the empty sauds, he waved lus hand in iroaical farewell, and cantered south- wards into the desert. j (J THE night was filled with vanilla and frangipanni odours and the onJless sound of the rollers on the leef. Somewhere away back amidst the trees a woman was singing, the tide was out, and from the verandah of Lygon's house, across the star-shot waters of the lagoon, moving yellow points of light caught the eye. They were spearing fish by torch- light in the reef pools. It had been a shell lagoon once, and in the old days men had come to Tokahoe for sandal wood; now there was only copra to be had, and just enough for one man to deal with. Tokahoe is only a little island where one cannot make a fortune, but where you may live fortun- ately enough if your tastes are simple and beyond the lure of whisky and civilisation. The Inst trader had died in this para- dise, of whisky, or gin — I forget which — and his ghost was supposed to walk the beach on moonlight nights, and it was jfi J)reanj of the $ea By H. DE VERE STACPOOLE Author o/ •• The Blue Luooot." " I he Pe irl Fiihers." ele . etc. apropos of this that Lygon suddenly put the question to me " Do you believe in ghosts ? " " Do yon ? " replied I. " I don't know," said Lygon. " I almost think 1 do. because every one does Oh, I know, a handful of hard-headed super -civilised people say they don't, but the mass of humanity docs. The Poly- nesians and Microncsians do ; go to Japan, go to Ireland, go anywhere, and every- where you will find ghost believers." " Lombrosso has written something like that," said I. " Has he ? Well it's a fact, but all the same it's not evidence, the universality of a belief seems to hint at reality in the thing believed in — yet what is more wanting in real reason than tabu ? Yet tabu is universal. You find men here who daren't touch an artu tree because art ii trees are tabu to them, or eat turtle or touch a dead body. Well, look at the Tows; a dead body is tabu to a' Cohen. India is riddled with the business, so's 41

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine English society — it's all the same thing under different disguises. " Funny that talking of ghosts we should have touched on this, for when I asked you did you believe in ghosts I had a ghost story in mind and tabu comes into it. This is it." And this is the story somewhat as told by Lygon. Some fifty years back when Pease was a pirate bold, and Hayes in his bloom, and the topsails of the Leonora a terror to all dusky beholders. Maru was a yonng man of twenty. He was son of Malemake, King of Fukariva. a kingdom the size of a soup plate, nearly as round and without a middle — an atoll island, in short ; just a ring of coral, sea beaten and circliug, like a bezel, a sapphire lagoon. Fukariva lies in the Paumotus or DangerouB Archipelago where the currents run every way and the trades are unac- countable. The underwriters to this day fight shy of a Paumotus trader, and in the "6o's few ships came here and the few that came were on questionable business. Maru up to the time he was twenty years of age only remembered tliree. There was the Spanish ship that came into the lagoon when he was seven. The picture of her remained with him, burning and brilliant, yet tinged with the atmosphere of nightmare, a big top- sail schooner that lay for a week mirroring herself on the lagooff—water whilst she refitted, fellows with red handkerchiefs tied round their heads crawling aloft and laying out on the spars. They came ashore for water and what they could find in the way of taro and nuts, and made hay on the beach, insulting the island women till the men drove them off. Then when she wan clearing the lagoon a brass gun was run out and fired, leaving a score of dead and wounded on that salt white strand. That was the Spaniard. Then came a whaler who took what she wanted and cut down trees for fuel and departed, leaving behind the smell of her as an enduring recollection, and lastly, when Maru was about eighteen, a little old schooner slank in one early morning. She lay in the lagoon like'a mangy dog. a humble ship, very unlike the Spaniard or the blustering whaleman. She only wanted water and a few vegetables, and her men gave no trouble ; then, one evening, she slank out again with the ebb. but she left something l>ehind her — smallpox. It cleared the island, and of the hundred and fifty subjects of King Malemake only ten were left — twelve people in all. counting the king and Maru. The king died of a broken heart age. and of the eleven people left t were women, widows of men who had of the smallpox. Maru was unmarried, and as the of the community he might have coll" the women for hia own household, he had no thought of anything but grief for his father and "the people were gone. He drew apart from others and the seven widowers began arrange matters as to the distribution the three widows. They began v arguments and ended with clubs: tt men were killed, and one of the won. killed another man because he had brai the man of her fancy. Then the dead were buried in the lag — Maru refusing to help because of tabu — and the three newly married eou settled down to live their lives, leaving M out in the cold. He was no longer The women despised him because he hi fought for one of them, and the men cause he had failed in brutality and lea< ship. They were a hard lot, true survr of the fittest, and Maru. straight as a p «"ntlc. and a drean them, tike a man ime. and sometimes in 1 ereat ring of coral tree, dark eyi seemed, amor another tribe i He lived al sun blaze on 1 fancied he saw the spirits of the depai walkiog as they had walked in life. ; sometimes at night he thought he hei the voice of his f.ither chilling him. When the old man died Maru had fused to touch the body or help in burial. Filial love, his own salva' nothing would have induced Mara to ' his tabu. It was part of him. an iron reef in character beyond the touch of will. II One morning some six weeks after this marrying and settling down a came into the lagoon. She was a bl birder, the Pot by Colin Roberts hence the name r and his men lande nuts, bananas, an could find wortl turned their atten Four men were 1 Robertson was not above trifles fruited them ; that is to say. he them into his boat and took tfc board the Portsoy, leaving the widows — grass widows now wned and rapt a Banflshire is brig. Robe ook off water, verything else aking. Then to the popu a great find.

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H. de Vere Stacpoole In the canoe was a girl, naked as the new moon. Paddle in hand and half crouching, she drove the canoe towards him, the sail loose and flapping in the wind- thc palm tops, like pinhcads above- the sea dazzle. 1 le felt no grief, but there came to h»m a new and strange thing, a silence that the shipboard sounds could not break. Since birth the eternal boom of the warn on coral had been in bis cars, night and day and day and night— lo,uder in storms, but always there. It was Rune. That was why, despite the sound of the bow wash and boost of the waves and the creak of cordage and block, the brig seemed to have carried Maru into the su>nce of a -new world They worked free of the Paumotus into the region of settled winds and accountable currents, passing atolls, and reefs that showed like the threshing of a sharks tail in the blue, heading north-west in shore. He had no fine feelings about w tuarriage tie and he reckoned they nyT^ make out somehow. They were no fjv htm as labour and they were ill- •jj^ed , all the same, being a man of jj^'itry and some humour, he dipped J**g to them as the Portsoy cleared *Soon and breasted the tumble at the ^laru standing aft saw the island with »A|*hjtc foam fighting the coral aud the SPthrcshing around the break. Stow the Of??* c«»t against the pale aquamanm- uk,?" *kylinc that swept up the burning *Tu\ noon, beard the long rumble m of lhe 8Br! on the *ollowlnR sWTL *Qd watched and listened till the *nci ,fo1 «»e surf died to nothingness ' the t5land nothing emained but 43

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine a world of wind aud waves and sky, desolate of life and, for Maru, the land of Nowhere. So it went on from week to week, and, as far as he was concerned, so it might have gone on for ever. He knew nothing of the world into which he had been suddenly snatched, and land which was not a ring of coral surrounding a lagoon was for him unthinkable. He knew nothing of navigation, and the brass-bound wheel at which a sailor was always standing with his hands on the spokes, now twirling it this way, now that, had for him a fascination beyond words, the fascination of a strange toy for a Utile child, and something more. It was the first wheel he had ever seen and its move- ments about its axis seemed magical, and it was never left without some one to hold it and move it — why ? The mystery of the binnacle into which the wheel-mover was always staring, as a man stares into a rock poo] after fish, was almost as fascinating. Maru peeped into the biunacle one day and saw the fish, like a star-fish, yet trembling and moving like a frightened thing. Then some one kicked him away and he ran forward and hid, feeling that he had pried into the secrets of the white men's gods and fearing the con- sequences. But the white men's gods were not confined to the wheel and binnacle; down below they had a god that could warn them of the weather, for that day at noon, and for no apparent reason, the sailors began to strip the brig of her canvas. Then the sea rose, and two hours later the cyclone seized them. It blew every- thing away and then took them into its calm heart, where, dancing like giants in dead still air, and with the sea for a ball- room (loor, the hundred-foot-high waves broke the Portsoy to pieces. Maru alone was saved, clinging to a piece of hatch cover, half stunned, con- fused, yet unafraid and feeling vaguely thai the magic wheel and the trembling fish god had somehow betrayed the white men. He knew that he was not to die. because this strango world that had taken him from his island had not done with him yet. and the sea. in touch with him like this, and half washing over him at times, had no terror for him. for he had learned to swim before he had learned to walk. Also his stomach was full, he had been eating biscuits whilst the Portsoy's canvas was being stripped away and though the wind was strong enough all most to whip the food from his handsJ The peaceful swell that followed tH cyclone was a thing enough to have drive an ordinary man mad with terror. No lifted hill high on a glassy slope, the who wheel of the horizon came to view und the breezing wind and blazing sun. thi gently down-sliding the hatch cover woul Sink to a valley bottom only to dim again a glassy slope and rife again hi high into the wind and sun. Foam flecj passed on the surface and in the pre* sun dazzled crystal of the valley floot he glimpsed strips of fucus floating U down, torn by the storm from their rod attachments, and through the slopi^ wall of glass up which the hatch coi« was climbing he once glimpsed a shall lilted and cradled in a ridge of the gres] swell, strange to see as a fly in amber 1 a fish in ke. The hatch cover was sweeping with I four-knot current, moving with a who! world of things concealed or half-seen m hinted at. A sea current is a Mreet.fl is more, it is a moving pavement for iH j>eople of the sea; jelly fish were be^H carried with Maru on the great swell rafl ning with the current, a turtle broke tfcff water clo=e to him and plunged again, aoji onae a white roaring reef passed by • utyl a few cable lengths. He could see theronfl exposed for a moment and the water closu4 J on it in a tumble of foam. ' HI For a day and a night and a day and 9 night the voyage continued, the sw*J falling to a gentle heave, and then in dawn came a sail, the mat sail of a can^B like a brown wing cut against the haliotlB shell coloured sky. In the canoe was a girl, naked as t«B new moon. Paddle in hand and bj crouching, she drove the canoe tow*^ him. the sail loose and flapping in the wiiffB Then he was on board the canoe, but h^H he got there he scarcely knew, the *b4^B thing was like a dream within a dreani In the canoe there was nothing. neitMH food nor water, only some fishing lui**'1, and as he lay exhausted, consumed wjj thirst, «uid faint with hunger, he saw t*\ girl resetting the sail She had **** fishing last evening from an island *I north and blown out to sea by a sq«*a| had failed to make the land again. 4 she had sighted an bland in the sou't^H and was making lot it when she sa* I

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batch cover and the brown, clinging form of Mam. As he lay half dead in the bottom of canoe he watched her as she crouched with eyes fixed on the island and the steer- ing paddle in hand ; but tefore they could teach it a squall took them, half filling the canoe with rain water, and Maru drank and drank till his ribs stood out. and then, renewed, half rose as the canoe steered by the girl rushed past tumbling green Reas and a broken reef to a beach white as salt, towards which the great trees came down with the bread fruits dripping with the new-fallen rain and the palms bending Uke whips in the wind. IV Talia. that was her name, and though her language was different from the tongue °f Mini, it had a likeness of a sort. In those days that little island was uncharted *nd entirely desolate but for the gulls °f the reef and the birds of the woods, •pd it was a wonderland to Maru. whose ■dea of land a* a sea-beaten ring of coral *aa shattered" by woods that bloomed •*en as a sea cave to the moonlight, high ground where rivulets danced amidst ;"*e fern, and a beach protected from the *uter seas by a far-flung line of reels. Talia to him was as wonderful as the island . she had come to htm out of the *ea. she had saved his life, she was as different from the women of the Pau- *ootus as day from night. A European Would have called her beautiful, but jbru ha/1 no thought of her beauty or h*r sex ; she was jnst a being, beneficent. •Jmost divorced from earth, the strangest *hing m the strange world that Fate had •>ued him into, part with the great heav- "»8 swell he had ridden so long, the turtle i^*t had broken up to look at him. the •Pouting reef, the sunsets over wastes of Water and the stars spread over the wastes M sky. He worshipped her iu his way. and he JJdght have worshipped her at a greater distance only for the common bond of Vouth between them and the incessant of the world around them. Talia **s practical, she seemed to have forgotten ■ex people and that island up north and *° Uve entirely in the moment. They **de two shacks in the bushes and she **"ght him island wood-craft and the j*** of berries and fruit that he had never J*1* before, also when to fish in the lagoon ; a month after they reached the island H. de Vere Stacpoole the poisonous season arrived and Talia knew it. how, who cau tell ? She knew many things by instinct — the approach of storms, and when the poisonous season had passed, the times for fisliing ; and little by little their tongues, that had almost been divided at first, became almost one so that they could chatter together on all sorts of things and she could tell him that her name was Talia the daughter of Tcpairu, that her island was named Makca. that her people had twenty canoes, big ones, and many little ones, and that Tcpairu was not the name of a man. but a woman. That Tcpairu was queen or chief woman of her people now that her husband was dead. And Maru was able to tell her by degrees of what he could remember, of the old Spanish ship and how she spouted smoke and thunder and killed the beach people, of his island, and its shape — he drew it on the sand, and Talia. who knew nothing of atolls at first, refused to believe in it. thinking he was jesting. Of his father, who was chief man or king of Fukariva. and of the destruction of the tribe. Then he told of the ship with the little wheel — he drew it on the sand — and the little fish god. of the centre of the cyclone where the waves were like white dancing men. and of his journey on the hatch cover across the blue heaving sea. They would swim in the lagoon together right out to the reefs where the great rollers were always breaking, and out there Talia always seemed to remember her island, pointing north with her eye* fixed across the sea dazzle, as though she could see it, and her people and the twenty canoes beached on the spume-white beach beneath the palms. " Some day they will come.'' said Talia She knew her people, those sea rovers, inconsequent as 1 he gulls ; some day. for some reason or none, one of the fishing canoes would fish as far as this island, or he blown there by some squall ; she would take Maru bock with her. She told him this. The thought began to trouble Maru. Then he grew gloomy. He was in love. 1-ove had hit him suddenly. Somehow and In some mysterious manner she had changed from a beneficent being and part of a dream to a girl of flesh and blood. She knew it. and at the same moment h* turned for her into a man. Up to this she had had no thought of him except as an individual, for all her dreams about him he might as well have been a 43

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine palm tree; but now it was different, and ui a flash lie was everything. The surf on the reef said Maru, and fhe wind in the trees. Maru. and the gulls fishing and crying at the break had one word. Maru, Maru, Maru. Then one day, swimming out near the bigger break in the reefs, a current drove them together, their shoulders touched and Mam's arm went round her, and amidst the blue laughing sea and the shouting of the gulls he told her that the whole world was Talia, and as he told her and as she listened the current of the ebb like a treacherous hand was drawing them through the break towards the devouring sea. They had to fight their way back; the ebb just beginning would soon be a mill race, and they knew, and neither could help the other. It was a hard struggle for love and life against the enmity against life and love that hides in all things, from the heart of man to the heart of the sea, but they won. They had reached calm waters and were within twenty strokes of the beach when Talia cried out suddenly and sank. Maru. who was slightly in front, turned and found her gone. She had been seized with cramp, the cramp that comes from over-exertion, but he did not know that. The lagoon was free of •harks, but. despite that fact and the fact that he did not fear them, he fancied for one fearful moment that a shark had taken her Then he saw her below, a dusky form on the coral floor, and he dived. He brought her to the surface, reached the sandy beach, and carrying her in his arms ran with her to the higher level of the sands and placed her beneath the shade of the trees ; she moved in his arms as he carried her, and when he laid her down her breast heaved in one great sigh, water ran from her mouth, her limbs stiffened, and she moved no more. Then all the world became black for Maru ; he knew nothing of the art of resus- citating the drowned. Talia was dead. He ran amongst the trees crying out that Talia was dead, he struck himself against tree boles and was tripped by ground lianas; the things of the forest seemed trying to kill him too Then he hid amongst the ferns, lying on his face and telling the earth that' Talia was dead. Then came sundown and after that the green moonlight of the woods, and sud- denly sleep, with a vision of blue laughing sea and Talia swimming beside him. and •16 then day again, and with the day the vision of Talia lying dead beneath the trees. He could not bury her. He could not touch her. The iron reef of his tabu held firm, indestructible, unalterable as the main currents of the sea. He picked fruits and ate them like an animal and without knowing that he ate, torn towards the beach by the passionate desire to embrace once more the form that he loved, but held from the act by a grip ten thousand years old and immut- able as gravity or the spirit that lives in religions. He must not handle the dead. Through all his grief came a weird touch of comfort, she had not been dead when he carried her ashore. He had not touched the dead. Then terrible thoughts came to him of what would happen to Talia if he left her lying there. Of what predatory gulls might do. He had some knowledge of these matters, and past visions of what had happened on Fukariva when the dead were too numerous for burial came to him, ( making him shiver like a whipped dog. He could, at all events, drive the birds away, without touching her. without looking at her ; his presence on the would keep the birds away. It was near noon when this thought came to him. He had been lying on the grouud. but he sat up now. as though listening to this thought. Then he rose up and came along cat amongst the trees. As he came rumble of the reef grew louder and the sea wind began to reach him through the leaves, then the light of the day grew stronger, and slipping between the palm boles he pushed a great bread-fruit leal aside and peeped, and there on the blind- ing beach under the forenoon sun. more clearly even than he had seen the ghosts of men on Fukariva. he saw the ghost of Talia walking by the sea and wringing its bands. Then the forest took him again, mad. this time, with terror. When on Fukariva he had sern the ghosts of men walking in the sun blare on the coral he had felt no terror ; he had never seen them except on waking from sleep beneath some tree, and the sight of them had never lasted for more than » moment. He had said to himself, " they ; are the spirits of the departed," and tbey" had seemed to him part of the scheme of things, like reflections cast on the lagoon, or the spirit voices heard in the wind, or dreams, or the ships that had come from Nowhere and departed Nowhere.

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine But the ghost of Talia was different from these. It was in some tremendous way real, and it wept because the body of TaUa lay unburicd. He had made it weep. He alone could give it rest. Away, deep in the woods, hiding amongst the bushes, springing alive with alarm at the slightest sound, he debated this matter with himself; and curiously, now, love did not move him at all or urge him — it was as though the ghost of Talia had stepped between him and his love for Talia. not destroying it, but obscuring it. said it to him. It was too Jar away for the ghost to come. It seemed to him that he had travelled many thousand miles from a country remote as his cxtrcm youth, losing everything on the way bu a weariness greater than time could' or thought take recognition of. Then he fell asleep, and he slept whilst the sun went down into the west and flood swept into the lagoon and the st broke out above. That tremendous slec unstirred by the vaguest dream, lasted the dawn was full. Then he sat up, renewed, as tho 1 alia for him had become two things, the body he God had remade him in mind and body had left lying on the sand under the trees A guU was strutting on the sands and the ghost he had seen walking on the water's edge, its long shadow strutti the beach ; the real la ha no longer existed after it. and the shadow of the gull flc* for h.m except as the vaguest wraith. He straight as a javelin into the renew S/L*S tt" /acme tbe fact **** *> of Maru. Talia was not dead wmdd wall li SUSfte1 ,thC ,h?d not.s*m her *ho8t- She had come t This thought brought him from his hiding-place— he could not lie alone with it amongst the bushes ; and then he fouud that he could not stand alone with it amongst the trees, for at aiiv moment she might appear wringing her hands in one of the glade*, or glide to his side from behind one of the tree boles. He made fur the southern beach. Although unused to woods till he reached this island, he had the instinct for direction, a brain compass more mys- terious than the trembling star-fish that had directed the movements of the wheel on board the Portsoy Making due south amidst the gloom of the trees, he reached the beach, where the sun was biasing on the sands and the birds flying and calling over the lagoon. The reef lay far o«ri a continuous line unlike the reef* to the wringing her hands for him. thinking bint drowned For the form he had seed walking on the sands had cast a shadow. He remembered that now. Ghosts do no* cast shadows. And instantly his mind, made reasonable by rest and sleep, revisuahscd the picture that had terrified his mind distraught by grief That was a real form what folly] could have made him doubt it 1 Talia was alive — alive, warm, nml waiiino (,.r him on the northern for her that fear h upon him and seize., joy that made him shout aloud as he sprang to his feet, yet with a pain at his 'he pain of a rankling spear; he broke through the tree* c ran. - Talia t Talia! Talia I** He passed the bushes where he had hidden, and the ferns ; he heard the sound and the love1 ed rushed it* with a grea north, co: through which the last of the "ebb was It" wing out oilily, lnirroring a palm tree that stood like the warden of the lagoon The sound of the surf was low. the wind had died away, and as Maru stood watch- ing and listening, peace came to his dis- tracted soul. He felt safe here. Even when Talia . "li*;? Vth him1t!j0 ?ood« had always =3 s «-» s-.w and now released from them and touched again by the warmth of the sun he felt safe. It seemed to him that the gho»t could not come here The gulls said it to htm and the flashing water, and as he the veils of the leaves divide and th* blaze of light and morning splendour on the northern sands and lagoon and sea- He stood and locked Nothing. He ran to the place where he bad laid her beneath the trees, there was eti* faintly visible the slight depression mad* by her body, and close by. strangrly and He stood and called and called, ai answer came but the wood echo an sound of the morning wind, then h to the sea edge. Then he knew. The sand was trodden op. and on lay down on the sands tJie surf on the~re3 ^.S? ^^^U^^JSi 4$

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a beached canoe and the marks **ft by the feet of the men who had beached h«_ and floated her again. 'wy had come — perhaps hex own people JT*°rne. maybe, yesterday whibt he was "•d'ng from his fears debating with his '""^me, and found her, and taken her away plunged into the lagoon and. swim- flnZ like srn otter and helped by the out- tide, reached the reef. Scrambling the rough coral, bleeding from cuts but feeling nothing of his wounds, he stood *ltl» wrinkled eyes facing the sea blaze ?p with the land breeze blowing past oat beyond the thundering foam of the rr - ' Aw *f to the blue and heaving sea. . -*uy to the north, like a brown wing 'P. showed the sail of a canoe. He **tched ir_ Tossed by the lilt of the :*eU It seemed beckoning to liim. Now vanished m the sea dazzle, now rc- ^P^ared. dwindling to a point, to vanish ** last like a dream of the sea. gone, never to be recaptured did And Maru ? " 1 asked of Lygon, 4 a_ (i uc ever ESCAPE im- s possible! Of course * not impos- J» Nothings •Possible in this J^, and though '* s a canting tude. and ally a lie on part of the of person - - »ays it. it s **** true. Take _.*ord. .•7 Those chaps " JJj* Pointed with Wati "?Mie v. th* pipe " IWl'i onlr on. Ami «k*« tW»« poj lo m»>M for in draw " 1-powbU JoW. and «nnl • lutn- tk. luck thai *Jt to make provision for in ' impossible ' jobs, and that's luck— H. de Vere Stacpoole " Never. " said Lygon. " The islands of the sea are many. Wait " He struck a gong that stood close to his chair, struck it three times, and the sounds passing into the night mixed with the voices of the canoe men returning from fishing on the reef. Then a servant came on to the verandah, an old. old man. half bent like a withered tree. " Maru." said Lygon. you can take away these glasses — but, one moment. Maru. tell this gentleman your story." " The islands of the sea arc many." said Maru. like a child repeating a lesson. He paused for a moment as though trying to remember some more, then he passed out of the lamplight with the glasses. " A year ago he remembered the whole story," said Lygon. But for me the whole story lay m those words, that voice, those trembling hands that seemed still searching for what the eyes could see no more. the little bit of luck that always cuts in one side or the other in every risky thing a chap lays out for. Good luck, and be pulls out a heaven-sent miracle : bad luck, and the whole bottom rips right out of the miracle he's made on his own." I said. " That's all right . But you're getting away from it. It's about getting away from that place " — I indicated the distant prison — " that we're arguing." He had been lying (as was I) flat on his back, lus hands beneath his head, his voice coming sepukhrally from beneath bis hat. pulled (like mine) over his face against the sun. He sat up with a jerk, that brought bis hands to his toe*, and turned hi* head towards me. " Don't you worry. That's what I'm talking about. That s just a case in point for vou. And a pretty hot one. I don't mind telling you You're the fir»t man outside of mo and another that'll hear it. Hi mm i g *-imm. i By^iSM. /Mutch i on Wvrnur'tfL. V mm ■ro,nn|Mi Ma b.. ol 49

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine Look here, you're one of these writing chaps Make a story out of this." I said *' Good enough." and snuggled my head and adjusted my Iwt against the suti a bit more comfortably to doze off. In my capacity as one of those writing chaps I had been given stories before. " Good enoueh Go ahead. ** " What '11 you call it ? *' , ',' E£?J&* Man how the devil do / know ? This was the rottenest way of beinc pleasantly lulled to sleep by astory— the way of the man who keeps digging you in the ribs with questions all the time. So I spoke irritably and finished. " How do I know ? I don't even know what it's about " " I tell you "—he had assumed an annoyingly deep voice as though he really Had something big to tell — " I tell von it's about what I was saying. About how a bit of luck always cuts in when a man's up against it. Cuts in this side or that. And about a case in point right here in breaking out of this prison." Inferniilly annoying. Getting much too near to be pleasantly drowsifying. I couldn t help saying in surprise—and how can yon sleep if you're going to be sur- prised ? — " Here, was it > This prison ? " It seemed to annoy him. But how was I to know ? " Here ? Of course it was here 1 Dam it • t was right there on that very road where those chaps are working now " }, tf/'""dLhii" darn ft " " What was ? " fr«™ Yk7; • brcakawa>' This breakaway SS22L t pr.,S01l that Vm to tell you about. Look, there's the very spot See those two boulders on the left of the road and how the moor gets up into a bit of an embankment on the right ? See J " I could tell he was pointing and watting tor ma. and I have suffered all my life from an infernal politeness which makes brusque- ness almost impossible in me. Moreover the story was starting with an annoying realism thai I knew would prove delusive— «^2L?lwaj2 do— b,,t wWch insiste Run» I He was. Yes. that 's good. A rum name rum chap. Clever that. I suppose writing chaps get into the knack Right, we II call him Tabor. Not a hko his real name ; and that's right an t it ? * ^Saves trouble." , agreed, "libels "Well, there he was. you see. " be (presumably where he had left off). " he was. this chap Ta — what was it ? ••SLbor» £ F- Tabor' Hatt— •• 3 ^ , 4if ,Tabor- F. F. Tabor, tha** good. There be was. this Tabor_F. for F»f* eh ?-this. Fred Tabor, in about as b*i • hole as n,a„ could be in. Wasn't he. eh K ., *, nadn t the remotest. So I sgre*^ Rather ! " " Absolute Mack rain in front of unless he could meet this bill right tb« and a sporting chance of set tin" the w* business plumb on its feet again if only could lay his hands on the ready to f^l Xs*?' y°a ^ imagine him situg tnere in his office— darn well-farni5l,\j office, luxurious, all the latest fitting* »*7 contrivances, two clerks in the outer t"~ slap-up R,rl stenographer— nice girl she Took her to the theatre one night S«p£. and all. Cost me seven poun ten. f^f\ lutely straight, you know. Nothing •lap up girl stenographer in little r**" nil

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A. S. M. Hutchinson rfS^le. Every sign and mirk of pros- £**y- Whole thing built up by his own head rather. Respected by every j!*l>e traded with. Liked above a bit by one who knew him. Stenographer used =cp a photo of him in her desk — showed me. And there was this poor devil '"j!!1* cr™wn leather, fists at his temples, ruin hanging up its hat in the lobby J^QcJ up at his big writing table, elbows Jju . 1 '•■ ^lrnc at a chap, eh ? Ukc a 1a? Webelt popping up under the nose of lilU^ntng man — and about as likely to be ifcj, at by. what ? Don't care who the >-„*'. ^ght be. This chap — this Ta — what ::nho7^ «r£**hop of Cai ^^*y>'>g it down than the Pope till that *Ho»?*' Idea — opportunity — plumped lauj **** hands while he sat there. Trust UB Misappropriation. Embezzlement. '• * * chance on it. Lost. By George. *t the Old Bailey and falling down was as clean white as the antcrbury. No more idea **k stairs with seven years' penal * darn well had time to realise K?1 "as a dramatic touch and had me »*ake than I had been so far. But KJ** tided ofl into a long ramble in which j. 0 >nt incoherent references to the - . * h^st bitter years in prison, and w6 tlJM,p stenographer, and his wife, and i^hi* *nd another, and on the tide of Jtt 1 ' s*yinK that 1 had run ? V<ja c*»ually a week before while doing in a bit of a cottage on the moor, jf^l *lking and fishing He appeared to % jju* tune — whenever 1 happened 3J*idi,~~~*n sitting motionless on some Uke a ttatue of the moor's own ^^T^broodmv over the urison. What SJ^"»d to conjecture t the prison I never knew till he gave mc In the course of it— when he got me interested — I guessed once or twice, but wrongly. I think. At its conclusion 1 guessed again, and not far ofl 1 imagine. I thought first he was the man Tabor himself ; but he clearly wasn't — the stuff about the stenographer, and later his own part in the business dished that. I thought last — and I suspicion it still — that be had taken on Tabor's job : the odd job you shall hear in a minute. Tabor dead perhaps (or. by Jove, it comes to mc. in prison again perhaps !), anil his money and his enthu- siasm left to this chap. He'd have been a good man for it, anyway. A biggish chap, taller than he looked because of his per- fectly ortormous chest and shoulders . Arms to match. Brown as mahogany and about as hard — he seemed to wear a singlet and no shirt, and the sleeves of his flannel jacket, slipping back, disclosed the terrific limbs they covered. Hands to match. And face. Curiously kind of thrusting for- ward cheekbones and the skin stretched very tight, but without hollows or gaunt - ii ess Seemed to be from, or to have lived in. Canada or the States by some of his speech, but — well, what does it matter anyway ? There he was and this is his story. Next thing I beard him saying was one of the most painful questions a polite man — who knows he's guilty — can have ad- dressed to him " You're not asleep, are you t I muttered into my hat, " Rather not," and found to my great discomfort of mind that the man Tabor was now out of prison again — " Well, there he was. a free man again " — and the story presumably ended without my having the faintest notion how he had effected this wonderful escape of his ! Laid there, wide awake now. trying to catch a hint of how it had been done : and then suddenly realised that the story, far from being ended, was only just beginning ; that this man Tabor hadn't escaped or tried to. but had served his time and been released, and that the prison-breaking, with the bit of luck that was to be the point of It all. was by Tabor contrived— for another man : to get another man out of the just short of seven years unthinkable hdl he'd been through himself Sat up and began to take notice. Was invited at the outset to imagine this poor devil Tabor free again and come back to s wife dead, lad dead, mother dead (he didn't mention if the stenographer was d*ad also) — all lus world but his young brother dead as ashes ; and in the place where his heart used to be a live coal of scorching, flaming hate against the laws that had taken such toll of him for bis one mad slip . that and 51

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine an appalling horror of the thought that other men. clean as he, blameless, but-for that accursed juxtaposition of trial and temptation, as ho. were going through what be had been through — " down there."' " Look, it's this way. Down there, and in all the long-sentence convict prisons, there's two classes of convicts. Different as' chalk and cheese. One s the born criminal Ready-made for the job just as much as the born poet. You know the type. Born in crime, dragged up in crime, lives in crime and dies in crime. Born in a filthy slum room; Three or four other families living in it. Filthy slum mother. Never knew his father. Mother probably didn't either. Has a drop of gin to keep him quiet as often as a drop of milk. Blasphemes fluentlv before he 9 cut all his teeth. Grows up true to type. Can't you see him ? Sloping forehead, sloping chin, sloping shoulders, thick ears sticking straight out. rotten teeth, pigeon chest, arms like an ape reaching to his knees, goes to prison on long sentence as soon as he's old enough and lives there permanently .for the rest of his life in interval a of ticket of leave. " The other type ! Ah. by darn 1 Other type s the man like Tabor. Clean. Honest. Gentle. Sudden impulse. Sudden necessity and opportunity. Finds himself down there Warders all know his sort. Always see it go the same way. Starts with the old habits Says ' Thank you.' and ' Please.* Stands upright. Moves briskly. Keeps his eves wide open. Bit by bit. day by day. month by month—ah. man alive ! eternal grinding year by eternal grinding year, the prison shuts down on him and crushes him down down, just as if the roof and walls of his cell were contracting on him. Down he goes J' V- Jbe "Thank yous' go. and the Pleases go. and the straight back goes, and the brisk walk goes, and the wide eyes go. Everything that was in him goes and they let him loose, and he shuffles out.' and he finds everything that was of him gone. Just hate left in him and horror Like Tabor. " Now look. Tabor. l>eing the sort of chap he had been, had the horror of it all uppermost. He d not been out a week when a forgotten relative in Australia or some darn place died in_,ust like they do in stones, in— what is it ? " " Intestate." " S2j ln.te8tate I*" him quite a respectable little pot of money. Wouldn't you think he d clear off somewhere stranee and qmet and start in to sit down and set back to life and enjoy it ? Wouldn't you ? " I nodded assent. Do you know, he set up right th* London, and set down to the darn idea ever. Prison snatcher. C6M snatcher. Had the cwze- and bv daw was right, he sure was—that escape df be worked from outside if a word touM got to the chap before he went in — -3 I interposed : " But how could thalj done ? "Right when the chap was senteM Listen to me. Tabor set himself to M court every criminal sessions and if he«J a clean chap, like he had been, brtfl there by sudden chance and impulse. " he'd been brought there, to get in tl with the chap's relatives — old fathe* poor wife or some such— and say to.; ' Look. When you go down to th say good-bye to that boy of yours, " Hope. There's a sport going t you. Hope. Never give up bo Soon or late, be says, he ll get vou outi he sure will. He says you're never to up hoping. Get up every morning s»>a, It will sure to be to-dav ; and go to bed night saying. It will sure be lo-nwtt He says : Watch for it. Keep brigh; i«f J Jump right at it when it comes. Alwaj ready to jump right at it when it It U come. boy. It sure will Hope " That was Tabor's idea — to ' good man from going down, down, prison crushes him down, by giv Hope. To keep the • Thank yous • Pleases ' and thestraight back and - walk and the wide eye in him by - and to yank him out before ever the began to crumple." He leant forward and tapped me stvely on the knee. darn I d'you know who was . first case of the sort Tabor was looL that came up Into the dock under hint watclung in the gallery ? It was ' young brother." He certainly had me surprised development. I suppose another my place would have remarked cyfl'^S that these sudden, these guiltless l*YZ. seemed rather to run in the Tabor f**^ but I never can say that sort of thins" sometimes I'm glad I can't. I was He made a pretty good, at least a h'lin^ natural, case for Tabor the younger £ was sudden and unpremeditated In three words another kind. with intent," and in half a dorrn v who was no better than she rouj»* ^ her man. and yourvg_J ^» 5* drawing on him with the man's ow»j \j (in the man's own flat), and leaving h£ tji dead and prejty well never comic* w

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A. S. M. Hutchinson *en«ts again until his brother, down in the below the court, tears running down {*» face, was whispering to him the words *had meant to communicate to a prisoner, ^thinkable pain to have to say to his own ^•■Oused young brother : " Hope, old man. Never lose Hope. You ^•ow I was going to get other chaps out of Bpfe you're going. My God. 1 never U^ught it'd be you. Dear old man. it'll ■5**11 the more sure, all the quicker. Watch {* it. old man. Day and night. Watch. Hope. Good-bye. old man." It was just over a year that he had to ™°pe and to watch for it. as things turned 58*- The end of that time found Tabor younger, after brief sojournings in **rious jails, lodged at the prison that lay * our view ; and now at last I was given straight story of the escape, and began look out for "the " bit of luck " which been promised as the pith of the "^venture. -^Tabor came and lived down here, spent *J***ra watching from this very rise where *° sit, and worked out his plan. Then J** when I came into it. I'd arranged to Hfr him. He came up to town to me. *ng to get young Bill ' — that was his ruber's nam e — *out of it this month.' he ' Sure.' ' You me. ' You're on e*° orive a car ? ' ' Sure thing. Most any ?aid flicks down cunningly rolled-up bv'f?*» buttoning under her on studs, and JZ^eorgef m two tick* she was a dun- ^^-"ffd old craft solemn enough to take ■^f chief mourner to a funeral- Arrange- of canvas covers, it was, that hooked Z*8 ail over her paint-work. Cute. Give «.•*> word N gang working on a road — that road down there — and likely to be on it quite a piece of time. We'd rush that road in the scarlet car — twice. First time we'd have a break- down right alongside where the boy was working and whisper him the word : ' Next time we come, jump for it.' Next day we'd come again. Breakdown again. Young Bili'd jump for it. Us ofl like hell behind us. Stop in a few miles. Pull down the covers on the car. Double on our tracks ; and while they were wiring all over the country to hold up a flaming scarlet auto, amble the boy leisurely to safety in our solemn old mourning coach." " By Jove, it was a scheme," I said. " Go on. *' It sure was. Dandy. And there s not much more go on to go. We ran it slick. I tuned that auto up a day or two till I got to know her so I could run her blind- fold into hell an' out again. Then I fetched her down here. We ran round a bit so the warders should get the idea of us — wealthy tourist doing the moor in his swell red streak. Then one day we let out down that road. Young Bill we'd fixed with field- glasses from this knoll here. The convicts were working about ten yards apart each side the route. Opening up the drainage ditching was the job. Warders pacing about. Young Bill fortunately working within twenty yards of the head of the line. If he'd been midway— they stretched a quarter mile, I daresay — we'd have stood a risk of some one jumping into the road in the hullabaloo when we got ori and getting tangled up in the wheels and stopping us. As it was we ran into the road from this end — see ? up towards those boulders— and ran up through the two lines of the poor devils — them all glad of an excuse to atop their digging and have a stare and a scowl or a grin. Ran up slow till we were close upon young BUI. Then 1 put the auto almost on top of him and pulled up. He was on my side. I saw his face go white and red. but he stood steady and rested on his spade, one foot in the ditch and one on the roadside Tabor stepped out and came round my akie against where young Bill stood. Opened the bonnet and put his head in and tinkered a bit Then he said low and clear, ' To-morrow. BUI Jump in the minute I shout.' Got back alongside me and we pulled out and got away- " Next day we fixed her ready. A big fur rug we lashed across to cover the back jeat so that a man sitting there would only show bis head above it. On the seat was roomy trousers, shooting jacket, and a big leather coat that young Bill eoold wnggl* into 53

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine over his broad-arrow suit. Tabor got in behind this rime. Plan of it was for him to step out alongside young Bill and leave tbe door open and the side of the rug tamed up so young Bill'd make just one dive and be in the seat. Tabor was to walk round the front of the car, came to the seat alongside me as if for a spanner or such, get his hand on the door and then shout 1 Now,' and the two of 'em would jump for it. Tabor next me and youn» Bill behind. B "By darn I I felt like I'd got a cold fish down between my shirt and my spine a* we lit down that road to lift our passenger. Tabor was breathing through his nose so I could hear him above the engine. It was snre jumpy work until we got something to jump for. which was when we re-startcd and the shouting and the shooting began." I said. " Shooting ! By Gad ! the warders fired at you. did they ? " I hey sure did. Three of 'em were stand- ing with their carbines on that bit of an embankment right above young Bill's head and where we pulled up. Tabor slips out from be- hind according to programmo, leaves the door on the swing and comet steady round the front of the car. Young Bill sta nding resting on his spade pretty much as he'd been the day before. " Then something switched in we hadn't figured on. A warder above young Bill bends over and sings out, ' Two-forty I Get on with your work there ! Standing staring I 1 "The shout staggered Tabor a bit. Non- plussed him. That's the word you'd use eh > Me stops and has a squint inside the bonnet to collecynmself and to watch out of the back of his ej* what young Bill would do. Young Bill took a wrong turn. 'Stead of making a show of getting on with his digging, bo re- mained as he was. resting on his spade ready to jump at the shout Tabor fetches round from the bonnet and comes to the door Pur* his fist on the handle and bis foot on tbe step and opens his mouth to shout. "By darn, things got tight then. The dam warder that had sung out to young BUI Kings out again. « Damn you. two-forty ' he sings out. 'get on with it.' and as if their tongues had been pulled with the same string Tabor chooses the very same moment to tot fly. .». V . shouta. out of every second in the whole blamed year couldn't have chosen a worse one. The warder with his • Get on with »t I jumps down into the trench along-ade tiSSJf&S&F" about nit the earth wnh Tabor h Now I ' the handle into the pit of his stomach good and hard and jumped for the car. and in and I slipped home the clutch, and by darn - {be twenty seconds that auto took to p.ck „p h" stride taught me more *bout eternity than a C'eaw "it Mire^lid'^' e*plain ***«>ty He paused as if to reflect again upon those age- long moments while the car crawled into , her speed, then went on again. " Shouta — hell's own shouting — and shots. I took a sqnint round as she began to \ oung Bill sitting bolt upright, dead pale grim, his chin just above the hitched- up ■> The two warders on the embankment dow n ^ one knee letting fly. and the one with t**1 stomach-ache stooping fox his gun. _ '" 'They're shooting to hit the tyres,' saj* 1 a DOT. They're darn near hitting me ' I says and ' one,conles pt'-whil between our darn heads' i suck through the windscreen in front of Hy darn ! we lit out after that ballet til reckon we came mighty near catching it. Tr me for that. I sure shook up that car were round a bend and grcasmg up the m.le* and I think I'd never have stopped from the* to now if Tabor hadn't hollered to me al*>«»- getting the disguise covers down over tb* \ paint-work. So I stopped her and he mpp»«i down and pulled the canvases over her I He'd practised that till he could do :t »» sixteen seconds, and I reckon he dij it nt-artf young Bill. I took a look at voung Bill w= •*1iYte,J.J just «ot hU cn'° *"ove tbel £2 kC. «d •eea h"n 1 r«**on «"» frozen stiff with the strain and the rear Dead pale still. Eyes half shut Uttto bmue middle of his forehead where 1 reckc_ he d hit his head jumping in I gave him * grin and Tabor sings oat to him ' Get thus* clothes on. Bill. Over your things On tfc# seat beside you,' and drops in next me and V npped her oft again. " We'd got the route figured out plum*- Another four miles and we swung left to doUP* back and let out aU we knew At the ntf* labor put his hand on my arm ' I'll go be- hind now to Bill.' he said • We re safe & God I we've done it." " And my narrator struck a match and to bis pipe. •• We were. " he said. " By . we had." * ts!tS°= 0.1Laf?,own. p,pe " Ye» *>y Jfl tuat a a story." I sa,d. • A swill l.^aew. »w,rd. it was I say. there's one thing, thoi U here exactly did the bit of luck come ^ 001 10 *DOW »ow a bit of i!d*ylL" lunu the »calc 't^nese thing*. 'Or the other. Sure The bit of l' ri*ht ■« *»•• moment we got young Bill aboard and *• Ah I How } " He inhaled a long breath from his pp* •• ul*W1? to tae ,a" 01 h" »««>« „. v»nen Tabor went round at the turn join young Bill behind, be found bun what be d been from the start— stone dead " I gave an exclamation. . ' VcP That little blue bruise on hi* <jf* he-ad was where the hollet lit oat Yo"^* g« to count on lock. Yon snre have." 54

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THE siren gave a noisy blast, with an impatient note, as if to say — " Now all you people, get on with your J?pd-byes and leave-taking, because tbc 5**P is about to be off. whether you have 2J*»hed or not ! " Then there was a 2*rryir.g down the gangway, a pulsing j^-sation under the decks, and the big **tr. very slowly, moved away from the Along the wharf itself stood a 2**^ ol people waving ineSectual hand- 7**hie!s. giving a somewhat bizarre effect u tremendous business J°d for another. A "•en. 5^ P"~e» g leaving one another. A cathedral organ the Old Hundredth would have ■On ,n keeping with the feelings of rs. but certainly not with •steamship company, bent . upon scunyuuj across the ocean tgoonc load of human beings and bring- ^ another load back. t/V™* *'©y thought some of these things Si***1*!!, and looked on with a thoughtful. 2*""ou» air. relieved that no unit in the h^^peeders was waving an ineffectual Jj*^*rchief at her : hex father, who had to see her safely the care of the ^T*£*rchiel at her Bet lat " *;*n to Southampton to ^fd. and put her in th Anther q/ •■ The I -<* ~ •' Pvddg Ihr -Vert Brtl Thing." He. captain, as a sort of formality, having de- parted immediately by to i wfeh. On Hie other hand she wonld rather have liked the Old Hundredth. At a parting of the ways, as decided as hers, something a little more impressive than a bellowing siren and fluttering handkerchiefs would have been welcome. Well, the strip between the ship and the shore was growing wider, and she felt tnat. liko the ship, she was under way for new waters, not so turbulent perhaps as the old ones, but sure to be plentifully sprinkled with shoals and quicksands. At the mo- ment, however, it was the old things that claimed her attention, the things «he was cutting herself adrift from : and with thai contrariness Of the heart which defies control, while the ship carried her out over tbc ocean to marry one man she looked back at the cliffs of England thinking of another. Perhaps it had much to do with the portkm of England on view, for it : was near the Needles, in those far-off day*, that she and Dick Frewen-St. Austin had met, and entered the magic portal* ol love, onlv. alas! to end in a cudden and inex- plicable parting. To Ailaa it always I Colled Stair rot 55

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine seemed that there had been a brilliant, blinding shaft of light upon one little period of her life — and over all the rest just neutral tints of blue and grey blended. At first she had minded terribly. She could assign no reason for Dick's sudden change of front, and when a few months later he had married a girl he had known before ever he met Ailsa, it had beon a great blow to her. Afterwards she buried her disappoint- ment deep in her own heart, told no one about it, and never went to the Isle of Wight again. But in spite of all her efforts, he seemed to command her senses, and no other man found favour. She took up work, and led a busy, active life, and the old sore died away, but still in the back- ground was a memory that would never die ; and dearly as she loved that beautiful corner of the tunny Lsle. she returned no more. Twelve years passed, bringing many changes, and notably to hex father an accession of wealth, with which be had to change his name from Thompson to >oy. So Ailsa Thompson became Ailsa Foy, and found herself at thirty- four still unattached, and with no necessity to work any more unless she chose. And then the wave of Colonial Emigration caught her. and, tired of many things in the old world! she decided to begin a fresh life in a new bhe became engaged to Wilfred St un ford, who was farming in Natal, and who was described by all his friends as a thundering good fellow." Finally Ailsa said her -' good-byes " in I-ondon. because she preferred it, and stood on the deck of the liner, slipping out to sea past the -Needles taking a last farewell of a dream that had been " passing sweet " while it tasted. I suppose I was lucky really " ran her thought, " for if Dick could be- have like that, he must have made a most unsatisfactory husband, and I should have had a wearing, difficult time with him. He was always eccentric, and though eccentric men mnke charming companions they are generally very difficult to live SS^A But *" tho *ne admonished h.-isHf thus, she knew thai deck a little, before going down to net1 cabin to unpack. When she entered the dining-saloon « httlc later, she found most of the tables were empty, and evidently numbers at passengers preferred the privacy of thetti cabins. The steward took her to a sea* at the captain's table, near the end. an* she sat down with empty seats all aboOT her Her name-card was propped againstt her glass, and she noticed hstiessl\ that .t a breathless moment it seemed «* if the world stood stiU. and everv thing »* J J Jben ahc managed to get a grip again, and felt angry with herself lur being moved J at all. Of course it waa Dick himself. 1 there was only one R. R. Frewen-St. Austin. I and probably his wife would be taking tW J seat opposite to him— some travellers liked 1 the seats arranged thus. , She tried to the card, bnt it had fallen on its face, airf she felt shy of reaching across for it. Then, with swift relief she remembered that i* all probability Dick would not recugui" her Twelve years are a long time, an* different hair-dressings make a face un- familiar. Moreover the changed nan* would put him off the scent altogether, aflA no doubt she could easily hide her identity with a little care and forethought. But she hoped they would not come in*' dinner that evening, while she had nn early love had had a freshness of abandon- this later one was very calm and prosaic and practical^ To have a •• thun'ooSJ good fellow for a husband was per hap a happy ending, but she knew in her heart there was a vague regret for that old care taw rapture; that old, unmeasured, froh- nets of the dawn. / Finally she turned away and paced the 56 to speak to on her right. And even wh* she hoped it, a tall. lean, well-dressed m** Frewcn-St. Austin himself, entcied th* saloon with a leisurely air. and inquired for his seat. For a moment Ailsa **» relieved, for she believed that without U* name-card she would not have recognise* him. He, with a changed name t.. tw*8* him. would easily be kept unenlightened; She felt sure the old tale of the " double would serve well enough if necessary. As be came down the saloon she ni'ie* the grey on his temples, the dean-sha*** mouth, the leisurely stoop, which were new to her. Apparently life had not been ail for him. although he had snatched a« «*/ thing be wanted, careless of who was h"1 And yet. faintly, she discerned that be »'**

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Gertrude Page more attractive now than ol old. *}th a certain humorous, philosophical as if be had so trained himself to treat ,"*e as a joke, that nothing could ruffle hiru Very seriously again. She knew" that he gave her a quick •SHitiny as he passed, and was aware that *t revealed nothing to him. Then he sal wn. HfrT Kcm to be rather late,*' he remarked. J*m not sure whether one is supposed to *P«.l*ted up>n the end seat anyhow, so that * had no left-hand neighbour." .She rioted at once that his wife could not ''levelling with htm. the while she re- Sj^rked pleasantly. " Perhaps you would 2? lQ neutralise things by having a silent 5 ^jfchbour on your right ? " Vv No . . '-'he said thoughtfully. whu "*WousIv of 6f a 4ct occasionally have tact. Your h. by the way. reminds mc some one else's — has the sound ul personality. Perhaps we „j upon a mutual compact to * being bored by our table companions, t do you think ? " Except that, as it happens, I am to General M on my right, and I Zr^pate a restrained, but interesting, partner" m*™ shrugged his shoulders slightly, and I*** added : " Odd about your voice! If , * " with a little langh. " Ailsa Thompson." " I think not — only engaged." " Engaged ? . . . who to ? " " A roan in Sooth Africa." " Oh well, long way off. She ielt her away, raising men tar y con carelessly — " he's DM r ell change colour, and turned her glass to hide her mo- isiun. Dnt as soon as she could command her voice, she said lightly— " What difference does that make ? " " I don't know that it makes any. going on stolidly with his dinner. " Are you going to South Alrica ? " she inquired presently. " or to Madeira ? " Why on earth should I go to Madeira t Do I look an invalid ? " She was obliged to admit he looked lar from it " H it interests you I'm going to have the most glorious draught of freedom a man ever had in his hie. I'm going to wallow in sunshine and di.n t care-nea». No letters, no bills, no tiresome com- panion.^, no neighbours, no appointments. 57 mm

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine no telephone, no plans, no damn ties of any sort or kind beyond the immediate obli- gations of the law." She could not help smiling. Twelve years slipped away— it was the Dick of old 1 hen, carelessly, she remarked—" You don t appear to be a married man ! such joys are not for Benedicts." " Nor for bachelors. They arc for re- leased prisoners." S"50"^ * ' ' ? " with curiosity. Yes. Prepare to be shocked. My wife died three months ago." She caught her breath with a gulp. For a moment the saloon swam. He seemed to notice her sudden discomfort, for he said with kindly humour—" An extra big wave I m afraid ?...'» She forced herself to" laugh. ' 1 think I'll choose the side of discretion au.V J?Ur?' '—rising a little unsteadily. But it was valour to come," he tola her. and will carry the usual reward, --you 11 get better much quicker for having liad your dinner." Then she left him, and passed down the saloon to her cabin, glad she had so good an excuse to go. Under the best of circumstances a cabin on an ocean liner is a confined space. . To Ailsa, that night, her cabin felt like a tiny pigeon-hole, with no exit— almost a trap Most certainly, had she known be- forehand, she would not have chosen to voyage to South Africa with Dick Frewcn- Austin, and now there was no possible means of escape. She must even for seventeen days sit next to him at meals But she rallied herself firmly. What <hflerencc cou d it make ? She took Wfr •red Stamford s photograph into her hand and gazed into his fine, honest face. The action steadied her. 1 1 was quite all right trewen-St. Austin would make an enter- taining meals-partner, and perhaps, in Hie end he would even give her away at her wedding, as her oldest friend. She went to sleep comforted. old. And the old attraction was there force. On the ship he was greatly rufl after. It would have been easy enough to avoid him. if he had not persistent!? sought her company. And then at last he cornered her. In his usual out-spokeO way he remarked: "Now don't get ufi and go away jnst because I have come to! talk to you. Any one would think yoO- had a guilty conscience, the way vorfj avoid me.' To her dismay she blushed scarlet, and felt suddeidy covered with confusion. " By Jove . . . ! " he remarked slowly.! you Mai* got a guilty conscience," and stared hard into her face. She tried to laugh it orf. but he paid no. attention. *^ " It is rime for your heat in the deck quoits. she said. " They will be waiting ' lor you. fhl fc«themfW;tit-.. rm «oinc to get toi the bottom of this." And after another lose scrutiny— " Ah ! I see now, you alOj not Miss Foy at aU— you are Aiisa Thome- | son. She opened her lips to prevaricate, but be J cut her short. " Don't trouble to deny it. J m amazed I've born blind so long " fl<? f 0t UJ?j .. 9Pd ! this * a *un«V business.*! lie said. I d better go and play that game of quoits to steady myself." and b*J went away and left her. Ailsa sat quite still staring at the sea f<* ' a long time. She saw now where she had made a mistake. By attempting to hi her identity, she had tacitly admitted f he mattered in hex life. It gave a wrong impression. She ought to have been quite open and callous, and not risked such » situation as this. She did not see hn» again until dinner-time, and then be con- tented himself with teasing her. I suppose double.' " h* going to argue * mystery ? She told It was a whole week before he found out Ailsa played her part well, avoiding him ri ~h,"S|,P,tTU8ly; . and ^-'tting to her nf,f IT. •,1B,,bo"r a* *« po^'ble. But she felt that Dick was puzzled She foresaw that very soon slie woulThave to resort to the subterfuge of the " double " It would have been easier if he had been more changed. Bat now she saw him frequently he seemed to have slipped a load of years off his shoulders, and to be the same unaccountable, eccentric boy of you were he finished. " But why" tiM ... Was it a game ? . . . " him " yes "—she thought to* voyage would be boring, and this lied* harmless subterfuge would amuse be* ™!i.!f has" 8h* finished in » sprightly fashion. The last diner left tb». table as she said it. and they were aloe* , He looked full and deep into her eve*- Rot! ..." he said. " you were .,rr..M-' , k ;No1use,ns* answered sharply, bet the tell-tale colour mounted again, and ** she beat a hasty retreat she knew that be was smiling to himself. After that he became neutral Treated her as an old friend. Chatted and laughed frankly of the old days, and was altogether

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Gertrude Page 1 delightful companion. Then one day. *»tting together on deck, he spoke of his Carnage. .. It was an awful failure." he said. "e almost hated each other within a few "■oaths." i_ Then why did you marry . . . ? " r^ke from her, almost against her will. . looked at her with a curious expres- sion. M It was your doing." Atine . . . ! How could it be ! " y Vour outlook on life was so idealistic. «ou overdid it. You inspired me beyond reason." What did I ever say to inspire you to y^rry without love ? " she asked with 'corn. , A good many things about duty. I I?ew my wife before I knew you, and r^re had been a girl-and-boy engagement etween us. I thought it was just that, no more. She thought differently. and her- g«nts, I saw you that last time, she wrote Passionate sort of love letter, claiming ?V promise. We met, and I told her I J^jd some one else ..." Ailsa moved Sk?1''ssIv- She had turned very pale, felt he was watching her intently, ^he said it made no difference. That could not live without me. and if I **U(-d her she would finish herself. I was *°«ug and a fooj i hstened. The things fjju said about ideals and loyalty and that haunted me. Finally 1 married He was silent for some mo- , — , and Ailsa could not trust herself .. speak. Then suddenly he laughed. Sh ! jt was an awful failure ! . . . didn't really love me at all. She J**t wanted to be married because some- ^ else had let her down badly. It was M he her revenge." He laughed again. at the skvline. " It's really im- to"5*' vou know— I can't help laughing. t^ke a man's life and squeeze it dry j„*nd perhaps a woman's as well — Vanlty1r„ a puny revenge for outraged „*jj*a closed her eyes and fought to 4 t lnta'n her composure. To her it seemed jJraKcdy. Her best years robbed of their His fine possibilities warped and *J°PUsd on. And tor such a motive I now 1 ^ However, the lane had a turning . . ." of . "£ilrd him saying jauntily. " She died I* Muluenx^ three months ago — God rest JOttf,'. ' « must bl»t it all out." she told him " Don't let it make you bitter. Take np your writing again. Go on as if it had not happened." " Yes," with quiet significance, " that is what I mean to do. Blot it all out. as if it had not happened." She played with her work-bag nervously, and suddenly, in quite a changed voice, he said. " So you are going to marry a man farming in Natal ? Stamford, 1 think you called him ? " " Yes, Wilfred Stamford. He's such a fine fellow." warmly. " I should like you to meet him. Every one loves him." "Is that why you are going to many him ? " She bit her Up. '• I don't know what you mean." " Oh yes you do ! . . . Ailsa. I mean are you going to many him because you're just a bit of the ' everyone ' who loves him because he's such a fine fellow ? " " It's a matter I don't care to discuss with you," she said coldly, and moved away. He watched her quite placidly, but she felt that behind the calm exterior he was smiling again. The climax did not come until they were two days from Cape Town. All the time she fought his influence steadily ; and all the time he assumed a nonchalant air. teasing her one moment, enlarging upon his glorious bout of freedom the .next. She did not know what was in his thoughts. She shrank from analysing her own. She remembered only that Wilfred was such a good fellow — they all loved him. and he would be waiting at Durban, to marry her the day the ship arrived. One moment she prayed it to go faster. Another she could have prayed it to stand still. Her eyes looked strained and restless. It needed all her will to appear normally calm and happy. And behind it all she felt that Frewen- St. Austin read her like a book. He had always done so. Love had given him insight to know her through and through of old. What if it did still « She avoided him more assiduously. He pretended not to notice, and made himself more attractive than ever at meals, when she was obliged to meet him. And then, all in a moment, on that last evening but one, came the hour that she could not escape from. A concert was in progress, and because of the heat of the saloon she slipped out to the cool, deserted deck, hoping none had observed. But almost immediately he followed her., and found her standing in a shadowy corner 59

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine forward. leaning on the ship's rail, gazing into the star-lit dark. " I was afraid it was too hot for you," lie said, with a tenderness in his voice that thrilled her ungovernably. He leaned be- side her, and their arms touched. Some unknown force prevented her moving away. He was like a powerful magnet drawing — drawing her. After a short pulsing silence he spoke. " Ailsa, I let myself be guided by Don Quixote motives once, and I lost badly. I don't propose to do it again. ..." She clutched at the rail hard. Why, oh why. could she not walk resolutely away, and lock lie: self in her cabiii. You understand — don't you ? " You are going to have a glorious bout of freedom," she said, a little hoarsely. " and it will help you to forget." Not alone," boldly — " I am going to take you with me." " On no— no ■"thrusting out her hands as if warding something off. " Yes," doggedly. " I will not let you escape me. No one shall come between us again." " You forget — I am engaged." " I don't do anything of the kind. What is an engagement without love . . . ? " She buried her face in her hands. " And you can't keep up the fiction of loving him with me. As if I didn't — know I You've beeii in my heart every hour since we parted twelve years ago. You belonged there. You were my one love. How could anv church ritual make any difference to that?" He gave a low laugh. " It may have made Maud and me man and wife, but it did not make us lovers. God does that, without the help of the church. And now you cannot commit the crime that I committed — if it was a crime. Anyhow I've paid dearly enough, with my life a hell for nearly twelve years. H not going to let you run the risk. 1 carf*! help it if he is such a good man ! He iso''j your man, and you're not his worn**' You've pot to I: t'-.-n to your heart. A0»| your heart is clamouring for me . . . utfcj it . . . ? " In the shadowy dark he p*?J his arm round her, and drew her to luJ* Far away sounded the strains of the com cert. A deserted deck stretched bchia*] them. He kissed her. and the whole worl blotted out — and all the starry worM above — and all the heaving waters rot They stood alone, in ether, while universe passed on. No one noticed that when she ashore at Cape Town she took all luggage with her. To the stewardess merely remarked that she bad rocerv wireless message changing her plans, the evening the captain received a si note. When the ship was under again, and the two end seats at his tat were empty, he remarked to his immedia*" neighbours : You wouldn't believe the number e» girls who come out to South Africa engage* to one man and end by getting off the s-b»P and marrying another I " He smile* ( " It's one of our great responsibilities see a prospective bride steered safely io*"' the right pair of arms 1 " But I've been done brown this time- he finished. " I don't remember noticing that Miss Foy and Frewen-S*- Austin were particularly friendly." " Nor any one else." snapped* the on his right, who had ferreted out eve*?' possible bit of gossip and scandal she co0{\ throughout the voyage, and was obviouw full of righteous indignation that for "OC" two people had been too clever even for h* Set Next Month'* Number of HUTCHINSON'S STORY MAGAZINE for * Splendid Now "Dodo" Story by E. F. BENSON 6.

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OPAL WITNE55 fb\ Adventure o* tKe Scarlet Pimpernel by BARONE55 ORCZY who knew the widow Lcsueur ledared that she was quite ta- v». capable of the villainous and spiteful Eg Which landed poor Josephine Pal- jE* b> the dock for theft. This may or ■ not be so. Citoyenne Lcsueur had S?"y friends, seeing that she was well -to- il*?* in good odour with all the Com- W* and Sections that tyrannised oyer KP* fofk in a manner which retailed £*«ry worst days of the old regime, to LG^^ntage °* the latter. Moreover. tr5* Lesucur was a fine man. with a way with him with the womcn^ k.,h*d a glossy Wack moustache, and W,,lr»?- dark eyes, since lie was a true son tJ*"* South ; rather inclined to be quarrel- >aZ : *«d he had very decided views on C*»- had Achille. You should hear C^ng the Carmagnole: "C*ir»! ca HI and - Les aristoa a la Unterne I *» *I? ** *» lustily . it verily sent a thrill IBSMtB your some kJ*/"** for destroying everything that W**0*^ to the old order : titles of course kthL^'-otc ownership of every sort and W**»d the lives of all those who did not wL*"11*1 him Land must belong to the V?; a»id all that grew on the land, and "educed under the earth, or brought out oi the sea. Everything must b'to'K to the people i that was Achdk ;»«««*■ Houses and fields and cattle and ttces and "omen! Oh 1 above all. women t Women were the property of the ^aUO" , That was the grand new cr^ «h^l. had lately been propounded at AchiUes club-the Cordeliers. And everybody toows that what the Cordeliers discuss 535, becomes law by decree of the i^ional Assembly the day ^^SSSt Now. there were many who averred that Achille lcsueur became a th" creed only after Jc^hine P^Ver-u* mother s niaid-of-aU-work^u^amed b» amorous advances. Josephine » as pi et t> ami had the dainty appearance which ^. m these grand days of perlec J Eqjjttay. £*■ claimed past sojourn »n the house of a whilom aristocrat. Achille b.mrKeois. and capitalists, and people of Si sort, who had more money t^n he. Achille Lesucur. the only son of his mother, happened to have at the moment Did I mention the fact that Leaueur was very . «S* £ owned an excellent httie tm«MM w 61

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine sale of wines, both wholesale and retail ? and that Achilles creed that everything should belong to tha people did not go to the length of allowing, say. Hector and Alcibiadc to help themselves to a strav bottle or so of best Roussillon which hap- pened to be standing invitingly on his mothers counter ? How he explained this seeming discrep- ancy in his profession of faith I do not pretend to say. Perhaps he did not con- sider it a discrepancy, and drew a firm line between the ownership of the people and the dishonesty of individuals. Be that as it may, Achille Lesueur had made up his mind that he was in love with Josephine Palmier and that ho would honour her by asking her to become his wife. She refused : refused categorically and firmly, gave as an excuse that she could give him no love in return. No love, to him, Achille. with the Hashing eyes, the long maternal purse, and the irresistible ways ? It was unthinkable. The wench was shy. ignorant, stupid, despite her airs and graces of an out-at-'clbows aristocrat. Achille persevered in his suit, enlisted his mother's help, who indeed could not imagine how any girl in her five senses could throw away such a splendid chance Josephine Palmier had looked half-starved when first she applied for the situation of maid-of-all-work in the widow Lesueur s house ; she had great purple rings under her eyes, and hands almost transparently thin j her lips looked pinched with cold and her hair was lank and lustreless Now she still looked pale and was not over-plump, but the citizeness Lesueur told all her neighbours that the wench had a voracious appetite, very difficult to satisfy, and that tn accordance with the national decree she was being treated as a friend of the house. And now this wanton ingratitude ! Jose- phine Palmier, a waif out of the gutter refusing the hand of Achille— his mother's only son — in marriage 1 Ah 9a I was the baggage perchance an aristocrat in disguise ? One never knew these days ! Half-starved aristocrat* were glad enough to share the bread of honest 2255 ?ny "Pa^y: *nd " was a tessc d Aunllac had been cook to citizen Lou vet before she was sent aa a traitor and a spy to the guillotine. obstinate. II* was persistent, and Josephine 'fyenne veuve Lesueur. whilst watching the growth of her son's pa waxed exasperated. Then ths crisis cam*. Achilles passion reached its . and the widow Lesueur "s anger no knew bounds. The baggage m Had any one ever seen such wanton ness ? First to encourage Achille s a' tions — oh yes I the whilom ansto had" the first made eyes at the rich and i some son of the house ; now. no doubt- had some traitor waiting for her s4 where, or even perhaps one of those abOl able English spies who literally inftfl Paris these days, intriguing and subort* -traitors, and seducing the daughter*] honest patriots so as to point with hjtf 62 critical finger afterwards at the so- anxious for the future of pauvre - who was quietly starving in a garret her daughter earned a precarious liv for both as a household drudge, put t her few tiny possessions— mere rem- former happy times— and went out of - citoyenne Lesueur's inhospitable followed by the latter s curses and )c*\j Achille having been got safely out & 1 way for the occasion. Th» had occurred in the late afternoon* the 6th Ftoreal. which corresponds *JL the 25th day of April of more or>i&tn calendars. On the morning of the 7th— which * Saturday— -citoyenne Lesueur came d"^ stairs to the shop as usual, a little afWjj took down the shutters and started the place tidy for the day's work. chancing to look on the drawer which ■> . tamed the takings of the week, she s*** once that it had been tampered with'- * lock forced, the woodwork aerate With hands trembling with an worthy widow fumbled for her It"' them ; opened the drawer, and confronted with the full ewden misfortune. Two hundred francs had been 1 from the till ; oh ! the citoyenne - v. positive as to that, for she had ti*** .rj money up separately with a p»ece of * .^f and set it in a •pedal corner of the As for the baggage, eh I was not h<* *^ patent to every one * To begin with, she had been 6aaa***

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conduct the evening before, turned out ?the house fur immoral ways with which ucur had only put up all this ty. and because the girl was so iendless. Then there was I M hille. He had returned «*&0ut Iter InH ii- *> his Jub at ten o'clock that evening. ,. *as positive as to the time because the ?*k of the HOtcl dc ViUe was striking the at the verv moment when he saw £**phine Palmier outside his mothers 2J>. She was wrapped in a dark cloak T"! carried a bundle under her arm. He — Hille_tould not understand what the W might be doing there, out in the streets ?j U*»t hour, for he knew nothing of the ™*rrcl between her and his mother. spoke to her. it seems, called her by 2**. but she did not respond, and humed the direction of the river. Achille was S*ymuch puzzled at this iucident. but the being so late he did not think of waking ? "wither and telling her of this strange u^ntre nor did he think of going into S5»hop to see if everything was in order. would you ' One does not always • ^Jk Of ever vthmg t *0B ything there the matter stood, and the was gone. And citoyenne veuve {f^ur called in the Chief Commissary of J? Section and gave her testimony : and i?*«*d as a patriot and a citizen against t^Phine known to her as Palmier. That . was an assumed name, the worthy ■ J* was now quite positive. That ' in lr_Tv w; A?*I*ine was naught but an aristo Z7*n»*e looked more and more likely every ^'lle citoyenne recalled many an incident ; of a name, what a temble affair I If shc had not been possessed of such a b^miserating heart, she would have the baggage out into the street long rvT5" now what further testimony did any U ''lll**ary want, who is set at his post fcj* Committee of Public Safety for the ,S***tkm of the life and property of honest ' '£2?* *n'* tne punishment of bour- bvZ* *nd aristos— traitors all— who are for deposed. 1 have had he his he known for its at that hour . *m***\\*9 WMtW — jj* 'ntrigutng against both ? •^^ii** Achille. be attested and d jlCrJi:' raged. and swore . woul« the Citizen Commissar) Baroness Orczy Enfers was always a very dark street, the citizen Commissary concluded indulgently. Achille was beside himself with rage. Imagine his word being donbted I What was this glorious Revolution coming to. he desired to know ? In the end he vowed that Josephine Palmier was both a thief and an aristocrat, but that he -Achate Lesueur— the most soulful and selfless patriot the Republic had ever known, was ready to exercise the rights conferred upon him by the recent decree of the National Convention, and take the wench for wife : whereupon she would automatically become his property, and as the property of the aforesaid soulful and selfless patriot, be no longer amenable to the guillotine. Achille had inherited that commiserating heart from his mother apparently : and the Chief Commissary of the Section— himsell a humane and a just man. if somewhat weak —greatly approved of this solution to his difficulties. Between ourselves he did not believe very firmly in Josephine s guilt, but would not have dared to dismiss her with- out sending her before the Tribunal, lest this indulgence on his part be construed into trafficking with aristos. Ill All then would have been well, but that Josephine Palmier, from the depths of the prison where she had been incarcerated for three days, absolutely refused to be a party to this accommodating arrangement. She refused to be white-washed by the amorous hands of Achille Lesueur. declared that she was innocent and the victim of an abominable conspiracy, hatched by mother and son in order to inveigle her mto a hated marriage. Thus the matter became very serious From a mere question of theft the charge had grown into one of false accusation of conspiracy against two well-known and highly-respected citizens The crtuen Chief Commissary scratched hw beaa m uttermost perplexity. The trouble was that he did not believe that the accusation was a false one. In his own mind he was quite certain that the widow and her precious son had adopted this abumtoaUe roe«« of bringing the recalcitrant girl to the arms of a hated lover. But name of a nam* ! what is a Com- missary to do ? Being a wise man, a*"*0 Commissary Bourgoin referred the whole matter to a higher authority: ^»?,\wl*»n the latter cast doubt upon 1 <*»h l"e'*-t«timoay : suggested that t fcn*1 the Cordeliers was. known for «t libations and that at that h« _ ^SrsrS 5a3si5«*af»a 63

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine Extraordinaire, where five judges and a standing jury would pronounce whether Josephine Palmier was a traitor, an arlsto as well as a thief, and one who has trafficked with English spies for the destruction of the Republic. And here the unfortunate girl is presently arraigned, charged with a multiplicity of crimes, any one of which will inevitably lead her to the guillotine. Citizen Fouquier-Tinville, the Attorney- General, has the case in hand. Citizen Dumas, the Judge-President, fixes the accused with his pale, tlireateoing eye. The narrow court is crowded to the ceiling : somehow the affair has excited public interest, and Achille Lesueur and his widowed mother, being well-to-do sellers of good wine, have many friends. Attorney-General Fouquier-Tinville has read the indictment. The accused stands in the dock facing the five judges, with a set, determined look on her face. She wears a plain grey frock, with long, narrow sleeves down to her pale white hands, which accentuate the sliraness of her appearance. The whit i' kerchief round her shoulders and the cap which conceals her fair hair are • spotlessly clean. Maman has carefully washed and ironed them herself and brought them to Josephine, in the prison, so that the child should look neat before her judges. " Accused, what answer do you give to the indictment ? " the Judge-President questions sternly. " I am innocent," the girl replies firmly. " I was not in the rue des Enfers at the hour when yonder false witness declares that he spoke with me." Achille, who sits on a bench immediately below the jury, devours the girl with his eyes. Every now and again he sighs and his red. spatulated hands are clasped con- vulsively together. At Josephines last words, spoken in a tone of unutterable con- tempt, a crimson flush spreads over his face and his teeth — white and sharp as those of some wild, feline creature— bury themselves in his Meshy, lower Hp. His mother, who sits beside him. demure and consequential in sober black, with open-work mittens on her thin, wrinkled hands, gives Achille a warning look and a scarce-perceptible nui It were not wise to betray before these judges feelings of whkh they might disapprove. " I am innocent 1 " the girl in setts. " I do not know why the citizeuesa Lesueur should try to fasten such an abominable crime on me." Here the Attorr.ey-Gctu-ral talcs hit sharply. " The citizeness Lesueur caiir.C|l accused of trying to mak that of a wild beast. Again his tOl has to restrain him. But the pubtifl sympathy with him. Imagine that ■ aristo scorning the love of so fine a paB The Attorney-General is waxing I patient. " If you are innocent." he says t» " prove it. The revolutionary 9 mittee of your section has declared n be a Suspect and ordered your arrestf as such. The onus to prove your inncw now rests with you." " At ten o'clock on the night >.f th* l h real I was with my mother." th*j insists calmly. " m the rue Christine M opposite end of the city t.. where tW des Enfers is situated.' " Prove it." reiterates the Att«* General itnperturbably ' " My mother can testily " tb* retorts. But citizen Fouquier-Tinville st.rufl shoulders. " A mother is not a witness." M| curtly. " Mothers have been koog condone their children's crimes. MB does not admit the testimony of a MB a father, a husband, or a wife. WartB else at the rue Christine that n4^H who saw you. and can swear that v"u not possibly have been at the Enfers at the hour to whkh the ( witness bath attested ? " But this time the girl is dufli sensitive lips are drawn closely toft* if they would guard a secret ^h' remain inviolate. " Well 1 " the Attorney-General with a sneeT. " you do not reply, the witness who can testily that y©1 the me Christine, at the other end at the hour when the principal swear* that he saw yon in tb* Enfers ? " Again the accused gives no ref" now it is the turn of the ftv« it**jQjfl come insi*terft first, then trop***g| finally very angry. Every one in turn put the same propr-i«»°n accused : 64

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine " You say that the principal witness could not have seen you in the rue des Enfers at ten o'clock of the 6th Floreal. because at that hour you were in the rue Christine. Well ! prove it." And every one of them hath received the same mute answer : an obstinate silence, the sight of a face pale and drawn, and a glance from large, purple- rimmed eyes that have a haunting, terrified look in them now. In the end the Judge-President sums up the case and orders the jury to " get them- selves convinced." And this they must do by deliberating and voting audibly in full hearing of the Public, for such is the Law to-day. For awhile thereupon nothing is heard in the court save that audible murmur from the stand where the jury are " getting themselves convinced." The murmur it- self is confused : only from time to time a word, a broken phrase penetrates to the ear of the public or to that of the unfortunate girl who is awaiting her doom. Such words as " obvious guilt." or " no doubt a traitor." "naught but an aristo." "the guillotine." occur most frequently : especi- ally " the guillotine ! " It is such a simple solver of problems, such an easy way to set all doubts at. rest. The accused stands in the dock facing the judges ; she does not glance once in the direction of the jury. She seems like a statue fashioned of alabaster, a ghostlike harmony in grey and white, her kerchief scarce whiter than her checks, Then suddenly there is a sensation. Through the hum of the jury " debating audibly." a raucous voice is raised from out the body of the public, immediately behind the dock. " Name of a dog ! Why. Cyrano lodges at No. 12 rue Christine. He was there on the evening of the 6th. Eh, Cyrano > En avan t. mon ancient ! " " Cyrano, en avant I " The chorus L'. taken up by several men in ragged shirts and blouses, to the accompaniment of ribald laughter and one or two coarse jokes. The jury cease their " audible " delibera- tion. Remember that this Tribunal Em- traordinaire is subject to no Law-forms. Judges and jury arc here to administer justice as they understand it, not as tradi- tion— the hatred traditions of the old regime — had it in the past. They are here principally in order to see that the Republic suffers no detriment through the actions of her citizens, and there is no one to interfere with them as to how they accom- plish this laudable end. This time, all of them Ix-ing pu.vlnl the strangeness of the affair — the singnl*fl dearth of witnesses in such a complicate* ] case — they listen to the voice of the put vox populi suits their purpose for nonce. So at an order from the" Jndge-Presidagj someone is hauled out of the crowd. Plisb*jl forward into the witness-box. hustled at*' bundled like a bale of goods : a grc^ i. hulking fellow with muscular arms, a»» lank fair hair covered with grime He it 5 cobbler by trade, apparently, for he a leather apron and generally e odour of tanned leather. He nose, tip-tilted and of a a perpetual tiny drop of moisture hangs his left nostril, whilst another gust**! unceasingly in his right eye. His appearance in the witness-bo* greeted by a round of applause from " friends : rf " Cyrano ! " they shout cailv. and «-"JV their hands. " Vivat Cyrano I* He draws his. hand slowly across hisHB and smiles — a shy. self-deprecating which sits quaintly on one so powert^ built. he says in a gentle, indulgent voice. a,,t^l tng the Judge- President. " because o " «f My name Is Ceoz ges Gradm and 1 *^ at No. 12 rue Christine." d§ He fumbles with one hand ins' «e Zf shirt, for he wears no coat, and out o».jrf mysterious receptacle he presently ( his certificatary " Carte de Ci\T«rae^Jt;l identity card, what ? — which the **\%fP of the Revolutionary Guard, who * beside the witness-box. snatches •*^^H him and hands up to the Jodge-r dent . ^ Apparently the document is all ^ for the judge returns it to the witn< demands curtry : " You know the widow Palmier - Yes. citizen Judge." rephes the " she lives on the top floor and my ' j down below. On the night of the 6U» & in the lodge of the citizen con«crf« - 66

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clock when some on. rang the front-door munv-a,- co"cicrKQ pulled the com- WaC 8 COTdl aad a man camc In and w! ed vtr>' quickly Baroness Orczy 1 hU stajrcase ; but not before ore 1^ , fac* Md recognised him as [ SfeS/- fro;^2i . e evcs a* ^ voices this cold- «t«? ' Jeroc,oas sentiment. The judges * c^Straight in their chaira as il moved by t^oimon spring. They had not expected |^ ultra-revolutionary terrorist opinions ^ « the meek-looking cobbler with the tjT^y eyes and the huge, damp nose. But ijT Judge- President figuratively smacks his ^1 as does also Attorney-General Fou- fiSl T"»yiUe- They both have already W*, the tvPc of man with whom they tew. ««al ; one of your ferocious felines. n speech, timid in manner and self- tlj^cating. but one who has sucked blood- 01 m« a tbeories of vengeance and *k»n , m ky evcrY pore of his grimy fcr '.i*0*1 na,h remained more vengeful -\ihl Danton- more relentless than ••^tP'' nr.-. U,C P'^'P3' witness in this mys- NSL?* isan 3x1510 ?" the Judee- Vjr*nt puts in thoughtfully. " Where •. ne hve ? " J^at 1 do not know. citizen Judge " jS° /eP»« ^ has meek, simple wVy. can and him." he adds, and le^'V wipes his nose on his shirt - H Ow queries the judge. SwSrf!*!?* a,'Iair' citiW"says Gradin nS^T^y- mmc an^nai^e?1e0t uP°n desk ' •->M*Sr^ °* hand, demands silence ^« r - 'T:1y When order is restored he more to the witness 67 «" YOUr^aflair 1 " he »a>s curtly-" your affair! That is not enough. The Law cannot accept the word of all and sundry who may wish to help in its administration however well-intentioned they may be ■ and it is the work of the Committee of Public Safety to find such traitors and anstos as are a danger to the State You and your comrades are not competent to deal with so serious a matter." Not competent, citizen Judge ? " Ocorges Gradin queries meekly. " Then I pray you look at the accused and see il we arc not competent to find the aristo whom she is trying to shield." He gave a short, dry laugh and pointed a long, stained finger at the unfortunate girl in the dock. All eyes were immediately turned to her. Indeed it required no deep knowledge of psychology to interpret accurately the look of horror and of genuine fear which literally distorted Josephine Palmier s pale, emaciated face. And now when she saw the eyes of the five judges fixed sternly upon her, a hoarse cry escaped her trembling Up*. "It is false 1 ' she cried, and clung to the bar of the dock with both hands as it she were about to fall " The man is lying I No one came that evening to inaman s lodgings j there was no one there but maman and t. I5*'ve me a*"1 the comrades till to- morrow, citizen Judge." Gradin interposed meekly. " and we'll have the aristo here, to prove who it is that is lying now ! " The Monileur of the ioth Fkveal. year t which gives a detailed account of that memorable sitting of the TtibumU Eatra- ordtnatre. tells us that after this episode there was a good deal of confusion in the Court The jury, once more ordered by the judges to deliberate and to vote audibly, decided that the principal witness; on behalf of the accused must appear before the court on the morrow at three o'clock of the afternoon, failing which Josephine Palmier would be convicted of peijury and conspiracy directed against the persons of citizen its veuve Lesueur and her son AchiUe. a crime which entailed the death- sentence. Gradin stepped down from the witness- box a hero bed ,re the public. He was soon surrounded by Ids friends and led away in triumph As for AchiUe and his rootbT. they bad listened to Georges Gradins evidence with derision rather than with wrath : no doubt they felt that whichever wav the affalr turned now. they would have ample revenge

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine for all the disdain which they had suffered at the hands of the unfortunate Josephine. The Monileur concludes its account of the episode by the bald statement that the accused was taken back to the cells in a state of unconsciousness. IV The public was on tenterhooks about the whole affair. The latter had the inestim- able charm which pertains to the unusual. Here was something new ! something differ- ent from the usual tableau of the bourgeois or the aristocrat arraigned for spying, or mal- practices against the safety of the Republic; from the usual proud speech from the accused defying the judges who condemned ; from tho usual brief indictment and swift sentence, followed by the daily spectacle of the tumbril dragging a few more victims to the guillotine. Here there was mystery : a secret jealously guarded by the accused, who apparently preferred to risk her neck rather than drag some unknown individual — an aristo evidently and her lover — before the tribunal, even in the mere capacity of witness. The court was crowded on this second day of Josephine's trial with working-men and shopmen, with women and some children. A sight, what > this girl, half aristocrat, half maid-of-all-work ! And th* handsome Achille ! how would he take the whole a0air ? He had been madly in love with the accused, so they say. And would Cyrano produce the prin- cipal witness he had promised he would do ? A fine fellow that Cyrano, and hater of aristos ! Name of a name, how he hated them I The court was crowded. The Judges waiting. The accused, more composed than yesterday, stands in the dock, grasping the rail with her thin, white hands, her whole slender body slightly bent forward, as if in an attitude of tense expectancy. Anon Georges Gradin appears upon the scene, is greeted with loud guffaws and calls of " Vivat Cyrano ! " He is pushed along, jostled, bandied forward, till he finds him- self once more in the witness-box confront- ing the Judge-President, who demand* sternly : " The witness you promised to find— the aristocrat -ivhi-rc is he ? " " Gone, citizen Judge ! " Gradin exclaims and throws up his arms with a gesture of desperation " Gone ! the canaille 1 the scoundrel ! tho traitor I " *' Gone ? Name of a dog. what do j mean ? " It is Fouquier-Tinville who actu voices the question ; but the Judge- dent has echoed it by bringing his to fist down with a crash upon his desk ; , other judges, too. have asked the questioj bv gesture, exclamation, every token £ know where he lodged— but wc knew-^J should find him at one of those pl.»«-«*^ then we would tell him that his sweetn"g| was in peril — we knew we could get « here. But he has gone — gone. ^ scoundrel! the canaille! They told u*^ the Club Rcpublicain he had been five days — got a forged passport tb**S| the agency of thc»sc abominable l£ngy5' spies— the' Scarlet Pimpernel, what ' u was all arranged the night of the 6th he went to the rue Christine, and the and her mother were to have joined hi'"^ next day. But the accusation was lauJWH by that' time and the Palmiers. motli** ^ daughter, were detained in the city- M he has gone • the thief, the coward ' »M He turned to the crowd, amor - ' s' j,(J his friends were still conspicuous, sti^' 1 out his long, hairy arm and shook at an imaginary foe. " But me and the comrades will at«" with him yet ! Aye. even * " he reii*^^* with that sleek and ferocious accent . had gained him the confidence of the l ^ " And in a manner that will p»nlT. ^ worse than even the guillotine coU» I done. Eh. comrades ? " . ^jjf** The J udge- President »hrug» his »»*» ft* The whole thing has been a ,ftl,^1, c£ accused might just as well have ir^f dcmiied the day before and m>'- ^ would have been saved. Attorney - General Fouquict alone rejoices His indictm<< ' jjj accused would now stand In '5S £L simplicity : " Josephine Palmier f5 6S

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a*wispiring against the property and (jood me 0f citueness Lesueur and her son I " ^j^WJe against the safety of the Republic. death-sentence to follow as a natural *^uencc. Fouquier-Tinvillc cares nothing oout a witness who cannot be found. Ho Baroness Orczy I-,. ' *t sure that he ever believed in the g***rs existence, and hardly lb tens to ffi~*5e* Gradin still muttering with sleek ■wocity : I'll be even with the aristo." ^Z"* Judge-President, weary, impatient, urrnurs mechanically : " How ? " fu^tJrses Gradin thoughtfully wipes his iJ^- lo°ks across at the accused with a jj^ «U his face, and a sickly smile upon his 1 11 marry the accused myself," he says. . "» ••- -:iy. self-deprecating shrug of his j7°»d shoulders. " I must be even with ^irtsiu." w^crv one looks at the accused. She lffl'Urs ready to swoon. Achille Lcsueur , pushed hi* way forward from out the ;*d at the back * ou fool ! " he shouts, in a voice half- " She has refused to , m- IUUI 1 lit b ^ngl' d with rage. 7p~y me." The Law takes no count of a woman's •h» Gradin rejoins simply. " She is uiProperty of the State. Is that not so. J*ades ? - is fond of appealing to his friends : Min .*? al every turn of events, and they f*a«- ^ him witn ruoral support, which I vk U ,n maklJ'K a great deal of noise and Ojjwoutingj " Vivat Cyrano I " at every e^J^unity They are a rough-looking ,(jj^|y. these comrades of Gradin ; me- ►t,-.'j^*' artisans, citizens with or without '-*in 'VOent, of the kind that are not safely twjfred with these daw. They arc the °i France. V'b^J* ,iave ranged themselves against Vl / Lesucur : call him " bourgeois " to ^f* and caintahst " bourgeois " to , - »ua capitalist ^K** aristo shall wed C>Tano. not rJy * 'vat Cyrano ! " they shout. S^Sf" Gradin is within his rights. By fc^^' the Convention a female aristocrat ^^K*> the property of the State Is ^^K*"* 1 "silinier an aristocrat ? 1* | a?V/ asserts Gradin " Her nam* is ■>n^?non '■ he* fath" was a ci-devani '■ ifV^ — of the worst type." «V- »be miirrtes any one. she marries '• \J?MTte,« AchiUe. '^Jtjii^J J* about that 1 " comes m quit k ****** Gradin. " A rnoi. tom- )«dgc or jury— or any one *9 there for that matter — can recover from the sudden shock of surprise. Gradin. with three strides of his long legs, is over the bar of the dock : in the dock itself the next moment, and has seized Josephine Palmier and thrown her across his broad shoulders as if she were a bale of goods. To clinch the bargain he imprints a smacking kiss upon her cheek. Josephine Palmier 's head rolls almost inert upon het shoulders, white and death-like save f.>i the crimson glow on one side of her face, there where her conquering captor has set his seal of possession. Gradin gives a long, coarse laugh : " She does not care for me, it seems," he says in his usual self-deprecating way. " But it will come ! " The comrades laugh. " Vivat Cyrano I " and they close in around their friend, wfan once more with one stride of his long limbs is over the bar of the dock, at the back of it this time, and is at once surrounded by a yelling, gesticulating crowd There is indescribable confusion. Vainly does the Attorney-General shout himself hoarse, vainly does the Judge-President rap with a wooden mallet against his desk ; every one shouts, every one gestic ulates, most people laugh. Such a droll fellow that Cyrano with his big nose. There he is just by the doorway now. still surrounded by "the comrades ; but bis huge frame towers above the crowd, and across his broad shoulder, still slung like a bale of goods, lies the unconscious bodv of Jose- phine Palmier. In the doorway he turns, his glance sweeps over the court, above the massed heads of the throng. And if you want me at any time, citizen Judge," he calls out in a 'ringing voice which has no sound of timidity or meekness in it r.ow. " you know where to . find me— the Scarlet 'Pimpernel at your service | " With this he fling* something white and weighty across the court. It lands on the desk of the Judge-President. Then using the inert body of the girl as a battering-ram wherewith to" forge himself a way tlirough the fringe of the crowd, he begins to move. His strength, his swiftness, above all hi* audacity and total unconsciousness of danger, carry lum tlirough. In less than ten seconds he has scattered the crowd and has gained ten paces on the foremost amongst them. The five judges and the jury are still gasping . the Judge-Presi- dent's trembling hands mechanically finger the missile, which contains a scrap of paper

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine scrawled over with a doggerel rhyme and a signature done in rsd — just a small, fivo- petallcd flower. But with every second the pseudo-Gradin has forged ahead, striding with long limbs that know neither hesitation nor slackness. He knows his way about this Palace of Justice as no one else does probably in the whole of Paris. In and out of corridors, through guarded doors and down wmdnit; stairs, he goes with an easy-swinging stride, uevcr breaking into a ruu. To those who stare at him with astonishment or who try to stop him he merely shouts over his shoulder : " A female aristocrat 1 the spoils of the Nation. The Judge- President has just given her to me ! A fine wife, what ? " Some of them know Gradin the cobbler by sight. A ferocious fellow with whom it is not safe to interfere ; and name of a name, what a patriot ! As for " the comrades, merged with the crowd disappeared, who shall amongst so many ? And amongst them who had " Cyrano " of being an English spy. Less than five minutes later there is a coming and a going and a rushing, orders given, shouts and curses, flying from end to cud. from court to corridor. The whole machinery of the executive of the Commit- tee of Public Safety is set in motion to find traces of a giant cobbler carrying a fainting aristocrat upon his shoulders. But of him there is not a trace, nor yet of half a dozen of his " comrades " who had been most conspicuous in the court, when first the they have beeu swallowed up, recognise them, there were those never suspected abominable English spy snatched the an*l°" crat Josephine Palmier from th» dock. Mattre Rochet, the distinguished advocate who emigrated to England in the year i ~9> has left some interesting memoirs wh«.-r«> he gives an account of the last days whig he spent in Paris, when his fiancee. Mad*- moisellc Josephine dc Lamoignon. driv* by extreme poverty to do the rouc;b kitchen work for a spiteful employer, accused by the latter of petty theft, stood in the dock under the charge, knew nothing of her plight — for she never told him that she had been driven*" work under an assumed name — until o*f evening he received the visit of a masn^| cent English milor' whom he subsequent*? knew in England as Sir Percy Blakeneyj. In a few very brief words Sir Percy t*l him the history of the past two days a""J* the iniquitous accusation and trial had ended so fortunately for MademoiP*** de Lamoignon and for her mother *"L two ladies were now quite safe under protection of a band of English gentlei***; who would see them safely across Fra*^; and thence to England. Sir Percy had come to propose that M*!*1^ Rochet should accompany tbem. > .. It was not untU the distinguished cate met his fiancee again that he b**£ the full and detailed account of her sir ings and of the heroism and audacity of English adventurer who had brought and her mother safely through peril* "J numerable to the happy haven of a hoO»* England. Thia U the firtt »tory of an entirely new •erica of "Scarlet Pimpernel" adventures which Beroneaa Orczy has written titluilxly for " HulchJnaon'e Story Maj.iine." Look out for another thrilling adventure •tory shortly 70

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Stacy Aumotuer I _ ~! n«l, h.Tc, to rtg* and breathed heavily. But lor the cronies Av- and characters there was a finely adjusted scale of treatment, a subtle under-current of masonry. To get into favour with Mr. Seldom Right one had to work one's way up. and any bad mistake would land one back among the strangers. In which case one would be served fairlv and squarely, but there the matter would end. For it should be stated at tills point that every- thing about " The L^ve-a-duck " was good ,nd lavish in quantity, and the .*J|J*Jice. Upon his pendulous front there J^kd thick gold chains with signets and v?U like miniature flat-irons. His fingers rj/e ribbed with gold bands like curtain- fcr*v His wife was big : his daughter w, V,lr the great shire horses which «2£*d on his adjoining farm seemed quite I{^JVf aj4 The i^ve-a-duck " was big. bKi.PPeared to dominate the town. It was iS' *t the top of the hill, with great poling corridors, bars, coffee-rooms. ^ Ptdated ball-ro«>m«. staircases of creak- **» run\ bfdraon» where a four-post bed n»incalt to find, a cobbled courtyard 'VjjA covered entrance-drive where two M*^/ drays could have driven through t^L***- There was no social function, no L7* **mcil. no committee of importance in qualit 7»

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine moms, in spue of their great size, were .ilwayB spotlessly clean. Having carefully considered the relative values of this human paao vama. the landlord would single out some individual fortunate enough to catch his momentary favour, and in a voice w hJeh seemed to make the glasses tremble, and the little Chelsea figures on the high mantel-shelf gasp with surprise, he would •• a laim : " Well. Mr. Topsmtth. ami how are we ? l!ight on the top »' life ? Full of beans, hone, blood, and benevolence, eh ? Ha. hn. ha 1" \nd the laugh would clatter among the ♦ankards. twist the gas-bracket, go rolling down the corridors, and make the dogs bark in the kennels beyond the stables. And Mr. Topsmith would naturally blush, and spill his becr. and say : " Oh. thank you. sir. nothin' to grumble about; pretty good goin" altogether." " That's right ! that's rkiht | " There were plenty of waitresses and attendants at " The Love-a-duck." but however busy the bars might be. the land- lord himself always dined at seven-thirty precisely, with his wife and daughter, in the oblong parlour at the back of the saloon bar. And they dined simply and pro- digiously A large steaming leg of mutton would be carried In, and in twenty minutes time would return a forlorn white frag- ment of bone. Great dishes of fried potato**, cabbages, and marrow would all vanish. A Stilton cheese would come back like an over-explored ruin of some ancient Assyrian town. And Mine Ho would mellow these simple delicacies with three or four tankards of old ale. Occasion- ally some of the cronies and characters were invited to join the repast, but whoever was there, the shouts and laughter of the landlord rang out above everything, only seconded by the breezy giggles of Mrs. Wright, whose voice would be constantly heard exclaiming : " Oh. Jim. you are a fllle I It was when the dinner was finished that ihe landlord merged into the president. He produced a long churchwarden, and ambled hither and thither with a pompous, benevolent, consciously proprietary air The somewhat stilted formality of bis first appearance expanded into a genial but autocratic courtliness. He was an Ed- wardian of Edwardtans. He could be surprisingly gracious, tactful, and charm- ing, and ho also had that Hanoverian faculty of seeing right through one— a perfectly crushuig mannerism By slow degrees he would gently shef herd! his favourite flock around th • tire » the large bar parlour, decorated with stafl heads, pewter and old Chelsea. Then j* would settle himself in the corner of tM ingle-nook by the right side of the Perhaps at this time I may be allowed » . numerate a few of the uubn-akaUe ruio which the novice had to learn by degree* They were as follows : You must always address the landlord^ " sir-" . • ,M You must never interrupt nun in course of a story. . ^1 Yon must never appear to di«bei: ^g, " Gentlemen, this is the birtlu'iiy ^f Imperial Highness the Princess E«"-» _„l Spain. I roust ask you to drink her wr, health and prosperity I " . . 0f tK And the bar. who had never ' Princess Eulaue of Spain, would n»* do so with acclamation. Over the little glasses he »oulu impressivo and incredible stones- hunted Uona with the King of At He had dined with the Car ** <^ He had been a drummer -boy dun ■ * ; ^ North and South war in America- ** 7*

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^veiled all over Africa, Spain. India, pbiua and Japan. There was no crowned head in either ut the hemispheres with *hom he was not familiar. He knew •vervthing there was to know about f these bets took place In the bar. hJJ*«* fact that the landlord always kist of the reasons of his nickname. 3* W«i • S"»". — * inst it it was difficult to tell .telligent the landlord was. If he was not a well-educated man. he certainly had more than a \eneer ol ^7i..^,fi,m In an argument he was seldom extended Sometimes he talked brilliantly for a moment, and then seemed to talk out of his hat. He had an extravagant thea- trical way of suddenly declaiming a state- ment, and then sinking bus voice and revealing it. Sometimes he would be mShgand not talk at all But at hi. best he was very good company It would be idle to pretend that the frequenters of the bat believed the land- lord's stories. On the contrary. «n ^afrmd we were a vcrv sceptical lot Most of us had neve, been farther than ^don or the sea-side, and our imagination shied at episodes in Rajahs' palace*, and b? Spanish courts. It became a byword in the town I " Have you beard old Seldom Right's latest?" Nevertheless, he was extremely popula.. At the tune of which I write the' landlord must have been well over sixty years ol age. and b» wife was Possibly forty-five. They ** an exticmely happy am united Umf> . And then Septimus Stourway appeared on the scene. He was an acid ,«pU«r. middle-aged man. with sharp '^ures^a heavy black moustache, and eyes too close together He was a chartered accountant and he came to the town to audit the books of a large brewery near-by. and one or two other concerns He brought his wtj -and his son. who was eleven T«»«W. He was a man whom everybody disliked from the very beginning and never got over « tic was i probably clever at hrs job. quitk-thmk- ing. sell-opinionative. aggressively assert- ive, and altogether objectionable. The very first occasion on whicn lie si it.d rhe Love-a-iu< k ' h« bn k* evcis f the masonic ring except tlie one concerned gctthig drunk The com- pany was in session under its presidenT and he bounced into the circle a..d joined in the con%erintion He interrupted tbc- landlord in the middle of a story and plainly hinted that he didn t believe him He called him " old chap " and oflered to stand him a drink He then told along, boring story about some obscure episode tu Ids own lire The effect of this intrusion was that the landlord who never replied to him at all. rose heavily from his seat and disappeared The rest of the «*™P*^ tried to show by their chilhag umrspmvfve- ruie U ill I 73

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine ncas that they disapproved of liim But Mr Stourway was not the kind of person to be sensitive to this. He rattled on. occasionally taking tiny sips of his brandy- and-water. He even had the audacity to ask old Hargreavcs who the fat. disagree- able old buffer was ! And poor old Har- greavcs was so upset he nearly cried. He could only murmur feebly . " He s the landlord." " H'm I a nice sort of landlord I ?»ow I knew a landlord at The company gradually melted away and left the stranger to sip bis brandy-and- water alone. Everybody hoped, of course, that this first visit would also be the last. But oh. no ! the next evening at the same tune m bounced Mr- Septimus Stourway. quite uncrushed. Again the landlord disap- peared, and the company melted away. The third night some of them tried snubbing him and being rude, but it had no effect at all At every attempt of this sort he merely laughed in his empty way. and exclaimed : •• My dear fellow, just listen to me Before a week was out Mr. Septimus Stourway began to got on the nerves of tee town. He swaggered about the streets as though he was doing us a great honour by being there at all. His wife and son were also seen. His wife was a tall, vinegary- looking woman in a semi-fashionable semi- sporting get-up. She wore a monocle and a short skirt, and carried a cane The boy was a spectacled. round-%houldered. un- attractive-looking youth, more like the mother than the father In appearance. He never seemed to leave his mother s side for an instant. It appeared that his name was Nick, and that he was the most remarkable boy for his age who had ever lived. He knew Latin, and Greek, and French, and history, m l mathematics, and philosophy, and science. Also he had a beautiful nature Mr. Stourway spent hours boring any one fie could get to listen with the narration of his sons marvellous attributes. 11 the habitues of " The Lovc-a-duck " tired of Mr. Stourway. they became "thoroughly ted up with his son. It was on the following Wednesday even- ing that the dramatic incident happened in the bar-parlour of the famous inn The landlord had continued his attitude of utter indifference to the interloper. He had been just as cheerful and entertaining ; only when Mr Stouiway entered the bar he simply dried up. But during the last two davs he appeared to be thinking ab- stractedly about something. He was an- ^Orf this Wednesday evening ths u»tt»| company had again assembled and «■ landlord appeared anxious to resume former position of genial host, when » came Mr. Stourway again. He had n " I'll bet you a hundred pouoo* five ' * -,^i> Mr. Stourway looked slightly alar*^ but lus eyes glittered. 0% * A hundred pounds to five . betting man. but by God '■ I'd tat* " la your son shy ? " ^,try '' no, be enjoys reciting p0*1 he come here and have an *r ! well, well, I don't ^fT^. fit I should have to ask h**7*ol ) Who is this wonderful boy you »P*»» • My nephew over at Chaghanv .. . could drive him over in the dog-< • ^ It need hardly be said that the mi 74

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Stacy Aumonier °* "The Love-a-duck " fraternity were *orked up to a great state of excitement °*er this sudden challenge. What did it •ean ? No one knew that old Seldom Klght had any relations in the county. |W«t then, be was always such a secretive .SJji boy about his own affairs. Could a «tle boy of five possibly remember and T*p?at more poetry — twice as much more ! r-than this phenomenal Nick Stourway ? now was it all to be arranged? .It became evident, howwer. that the landlord was very much in earnest. He °*d apparently thought out all the details. " should be an open competition. It 5°ald take place in the ball-room of the LflOtel. The two boys should stand on the P^tform with th'ir parents and should poems or blank verse in turn. A K^teU committee of judges should count the When one had exhausted his com- f, |*te repertoire, the other of course would ' 5*** *on : but it would be necessary for J**phen— that was the name of old Wright s J*phew — to go on for double the number of **^er Nu had the spoken to win ^Vhen it was first put to him Mr. Stour- J^r looked startled, but on going into the ?*»Ui he soon became eager. It was the It ! i * way of making a hundred pounds £ *»ad ever encountered. Of course the y» boy might be clever and have a good r^ory, but that he could possibly recite as much as the wonderful Nick was "thinkable Moreover his back was up. Sj* be hated the landlord. He knew that ?*>ubbed him on every occasion, and this be an opportunity to score. There v*4 just the mild risk of losing a fiver, and £ *ue to be talked over, but— he thought *i?«W persuade her. hi, * mmour of the competition spread ' wild-fire all ver the town. 5tJJ *as not only the chief topic of con- lE"**»n at 1 The Love-a-duck. " but at aU ' v.. mcl and talked It can- J that a considerable number made. Seldom Right s trc- imUm found him many sup- the great odds and the fact -Ublv lost in wagers of this * b~ 25 ■ VvJjJ** many into the opposing camp of Stan frfrnwiUut of ways and mean* was *o**d the following night after Mrs. \,-'a "2*» Stourway had given her consent. came in from a door at the back of the platform. Mr. Stourway noisily non- chalant, talking to every one at random, m a tail-coat, with grey spats ; his wife in a sports skirt and a 'small hat. looking rather bored and disgusted . and the boy in an Eton jacket and collar, with a bunchy tic, and his hair neatly brushed He looked very much at home and confident It was obvious that he was out to enjoy bunaeU Numerous prize -distributions at which be 75

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine had played a conspicuous part had evi- dently inured him to such an ordeal And then the other party entered, and the proceedings seemed likely to end before, they had begun. Mrs. Wright came on first, followed by * lady dressed in black leading a most diminutive boy. They only reached the door when apparently the sight of this large audience frightened the small person and be began to cry. The landlord and his wife rushed up and with the mother tried to encourage him. and alter a few- minutes they succeeded in doing so. The lady in black, however— who was pre- sumably the widowed mother— picked him up and carried him in and sat him on her knee. , The audience became keenly excited, and every one was laughing and discussing whether the affair would materialise or not. At length things seemed to be arranged, and the landlord came forward and said : " Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to the competitors — Master Nick Stourway. Master Stephen Wright Good gracious ! It sounds as though I were announcing the competitors in a prwe- ring. But this is to be a very peaceful competition— at least, I hope so 1 I think you all know the particulars, \\ere simply going to enjoy ourselves, aren t we. Nick > Aren't we. Stephen ? " m Nick smiled indulgently and said. Yes, »"■•" • ,t_ VI Stephen glanced up at him for a second. and then buried his face in his mother s lap. " Well, well." said the landlord. " I will now call on Master Nick to open the ball/' Master Nick was nothing loath. He stood up and bowed ; and holding his right arm stiffly and twiddling a button of his waist- coat with his left, he declaimed in ringing tones : • " It was the schooner ' Hesperus ' Thai sailed the wintry sea: And the skipper had taken hu IN* daughter To bear him company." There were twenty-two verses of this, of four lines each, and the audience were somewhat impatient, because they bad not come there to hear Master Nick ret ite They had come for the competition, and it was still an open question whether there would lie any competition. They were anxiously watching Master Stephen. He spent most of the period of his rival's recitation of this long poem with his face buried in his mother's Up. in the dark e*' ■i corner of the platform- H« moth* stroked his hair and kept on whispering * word to him. and occasionally he w->uW peer round at Nick and watch hint for a M seconds : then be glanced at the audi-n and immediately ducked out 1 sight aga»- When Nick had finislied he bowed sat down, and there was a mild rounj of applause. The judges consulted. a»5 agreed that he had scored 88 lines. Now what was going to happen ? The small boy seemed to be shaking head and stamping his feet, and his motw» was talking to him. The landlord cougnc£ He was obviously a little nervous. »S went over to the group and said in a chew ful voice: „ " Now. Stephen, tell us a poem. ^ . A little piping voice said " No I •"Jj there were all the wriggles and shake* . the recalcitrant youngster. Murmurs round the room, and a lot of people laughing- The Stourway party wa tremely amused. At length the land*_^ took a chair near him. and produced a stick of barley-sugar. n "* Now. Stephen." he said. U you talk to these naughty people, tell poem. Tell me that beautiful Hymn Apollo ' you told me last winter . ^ The little boy looked up at n«n grinned . then he looked at his rtiot^ Her widow s veil covered the upper par* her face. She lriss>cd him and said : " Go on. dear. Tell Uncle Jim ! There was a pause : the small ^ looked up and down, and then, toxins eyes solemnly on the landlords l&ce.^ suddenly began in a queer little voice : f Cod of the golden bow. And of the golden l\i$. And of the golden hatr A nd of the golden fxrt : Charioteer Round the patent year. „ Where— where slept thins i" * It was a short poem, but its rendering, received with vociferous applause was going to be a competition. •» People who had money at staK jjc laughing and slapping their legs. »n° who hadn't were doing th» t*A one was on the best of terms «w» t C* other. There was a certain f^r^JgT. trouble with the judges, as *f e? p &> know the poem, and they di.ln t £gr t„c length of^the lines. Fortunste^^ schoolmaster had come armed *w

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ted alter some discussion the poem was bund to have been written W^*™ M r Stephen was awarded 36 B» He waschecVcd. clapped, and losscd by the landlord, and his aunt, and his mother Master Nick s reply to this was to recite I The Pied Piper of Hamchn, a P"*"™' •dcc which bored everyone to tears. «pect- *Uv as he would persist in gesticulating, tad dome it in a manner as though he ht that the people had simply come £ his performance. " The Pied Piper ,racUn " is 105 lines. This made bis ^ small boy was still very shy. and i disinclined to continue, but the 'Now.^me on. Stephen I'm sure , you ■ember some more beautiful I*^ry. *• last, to every one s surprise, he began see more uuto the breach, dear friends, once more . . • was screamingly funny, jjfijjg through the speech, and when he got • GeJ Jor Harry. England, and Saint George I ' " pplause was deafening. People were e out and some of the barrackcrs .had J r,buked by the landlord. King Henry, speech was only 35 *g «£f** Stephens total/was 71. N^ *h™w,. PUttled with an appalling poem, bluett tom men ced * I ** She tlood at the t*r of ****** I crtntute wan ar.a wild. In form too small for a woman. In feature too old for a child. Ktttnnately it was not quite so ^ long as 1 the othS two. and 00W brought htm 60 tat* m.kine a total of Uy . , RiZTwho seemed to be gaining a ■Hie more'eonfioeoce »<»« • h» always ^gT^^^^^ would break down *M£^line more found it thrilling, mm • '« J» ^ u ^^t^S boyV we., became »pr^ , o{ thrir tether They rVl!nneSn I* and the judges wefe fcnt verv busv and the parents were as niwl as seconds in a prue-ring. It Shave been nearly half-past six when Master Nick eventually IJJ* J. started odds and ends, and ij^Jiiie He parents were pulled up tor prOOH for a boy of Ins age. 77

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine At this point he was leading by 106 lines. So for Stephen to win the wager lor the landlord he would not only have to score that odd 106. but he would have to remember an additional 82? lines ! And he already yave evidence of forgetting ! There was a fresh burst of betting in odd parts of the hall, and Dick Toom was offer- ing ten to one against the landlord's 1 rotege and not getting many takers. The great thing in his favour was that he seemed to have quite lost his nervousness. He was keen on the job. and he seemed to realise that it was a competition, and that he had got to do his utmost. The landlord's party were allowed to talk to him and to make suggestions, but not to prompt if he for- got. There was a short interval, in which milk and other drinks were handed round. The landlord had one of the other drinks and then he said : " Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to ask your indulgence, to be as quiet as possible. My small nephew has to recall 928 lines to win the competition, and he is going to try and do it." The announcement was received with cheers. And then Stephen started again. He began excellently with Keats's " Ode to a. Nightingale," and scored 80 lines, and without any pause went on to Milton's L* Allegro. ' of which he delivered 126 lines before breaking down. He paused a little and then did odds and ends of verses some complete, and some not. Thomas Hood's " Departure of Summer " (14 lines) Shelley's " To-Night " (35). and a song by Shelley commencing : " Rarely, rarely contest thou. Spirit of Delight f " (48 lines) I will not enumerate all these poems, but he amassed altogether 378 lines in this way 1 hen he had another brief rest, and reverted once more- to Shakespeare. In his little sing-song voice, without any attempt at dramatic expression, he reeled off 160 lines of the Balcony Scene from Romeo and yu/irt; 96 lines of the scene between Hamlet and the Queen ; 44 lines of the Brutus and Casstus quarrel ; 31 of Taques's speech on " All the world's a stage/* It need hardly be said that bv this time the good burghers of Tibbelsford wer™„ « state of the wildest excitement The schoolmaster announced that Master Stephen had now scored 680 of the requisite 928. so that he only wanted 740 more to win. Mr. Stourway was biting his nails and looking green. Mrs Stourway looked 78 as though she was disgusted with be husband for having brought her amonj eihousClymm°n pCOp,e- Nick 5neered *»V** But in the meantime there was no question but that Master Stephen himself was getting distressed. His small voice was getting huskier and huskier, and tear* seemed not far off. I heard Mrs. Rush- bridger. sitting behind me. remark • ' Poor little mite ! I calls it a shime I It was also evident that he was get seriously to the end of his quoting r£ tone. He had no other long speed* The landlord's party gathered round him and whispered. He tried again, short stanzas and odd verses, sometimes unfinished. He kept the schoolmaster very busy ; but he blundered on. By these uncertain stages he managed to add another 127 lines, and then be suddenly brought off a veritable tour d* force It was quite uncanny. He quoted 109 hnes of Spenser's " Faerie Quecne " I The matter was quite unintelligible to the audience, and they were whispering to each other and asking what it was. When he broke down, the schoolmaster announced that it was quite in order, and that Master Stephen s total hnes quoted now amounted to 1640. and that therefore he only required four hnes to win f Even then the battle was apparently not over. Every one was cheering and making •nch a noise that the small boy could not understand it. and he began crying. A tot of people m the audience were calling oot Shame I " and there was all the appear- ance of a disturbance The landlord* party was very occupied. It was several minutes before order was restored, and then the landlord rapped on the table and called out. " Order ! order 1 " He drank a glass of water, and there «*• ?..fal5i,rnce Step»>«»'s mother held the little boy very tight, and smiled at hhn At last, raising his voice for this last de- spairing effort, be declaimed quite loudly : • " Why. all the Stints and Sages who cuts' d Of the two Worlds so wisely— they *" thrust Lihe foolish Prophets forth; Words to Scorn. Art scatter d. and their Mouths are stop wtth Dust." The cheers which greeted this triamph*0, climax were split by various disturbance*- the moat distressing coming from Stephen

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rTjJOself, lor almost as he uttered the last *OI"d he gave a yell, and burst into sobs. •J^d he sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed. J*°d bis mother picked him up and rocked ~*i. and the landlord and his wife did what (T^y could. But it was quite hopeless. j**phen was finished. His mother picked up and hurried out of the door at the "^k with him. The Stourway party "•^ltcd away. There were no more *P*echcs, but people crowded on to the Jwform. and a lot of the women wanted J*j*t to kiss Stephen before he went away ; °ot Mrs. Wright came back and said the P°°r child was very upset. She was afraid they ought not to have let him do it. His jjothcr was putting him to bed in one of *e rooms, and they were giving him some •*| volatile. He would be all right soon. ~2 course, it was a tremendous effort; •^eh a tiny person too 1 .Some one offered to go for the doctor, Mrs. W right said they would sec how ?**as. and if he wasn't better in half an i^ur's time they'd send over to Doctor winch. - Ev' March . an d unseasonably cold . When VjR°t down to the bridge, over which the ?J?h-road runs across the open country to |**hurst. large snowftakes were falling. X j*0**' there for some time, looking at our httle river, and thinking of the land- ,?d and Stephen. And as 1 gazed around 2* I began to wonder what it was about snow-flakes which seemed to dovetail £7° certain subconscious movements go- ^ on within me. •\nd suddenly a phrase leapt into my Rotten cotton gloves I " '^Rotten cotton gloves I What was the jK?n*ction > The snow, the mood, some- j. l!'Z about Stephen's voice quoting " The i*tT«e Quiene " Very slowly the thing . «*» to unfold itself. And when I began it all. I said to myself. " Yes. my ; it was the Faerie Queene wUcn iff** *he show away. The rest might have \ a possible. You were getting rather put to it snow was (slung heavily. It was Stacy Aumonier Christmas-tune — good lord ! 1 did not like to think bow long ago I Thirty years ? Forty years ? My sister and I at Dniry Lane pantomime. " Rotten cotton gloves " ! Yes, that was it I I could remember nothing at all of the perform- ance. Cut who was that great man they spoke of ? the Star attraction ? — some name like " the great Borodin." the world's most famous humorist and ventriloquist. We were very exiled. Phyllis and I. very small people then, surely not much older than Stephen himself. I could not re- member the great Borodin, but I remem- bered that one phrase. There was a small lay figure which said most amusing thinrb It was called — no. 1 have forgotten. It was dressed in an Eton suit and it wore rather dilapidated-looking white cotton gloves. And every now and then, in the middle of a dialogue or discourse, it broke Off. looked at its hands, and muttered : " Rotten cotton gloves ! It became a sort of catch-phrase in London in those days. On buses and trains people would murmur. " Rotten cotton gloves I A certain vague some- thing about the way that Stephen recited Spenser's " Faerie Queene ". . . . Was it possible ? And then certain very definite aspects of the competition presented themselves to my mind's eye. It had all been very cleverly stage-managed. It must be ob- served that Stephen neither walked on nor walked off. He did not even stand He hardly looked at the audience. And then, the lighting was inexcusably bad. Even some of the lights in the central chandelier had unaccountably failed. And the landlord's party had chosen the darkest side of the stage. No one had spoken to the boy. No one had seen him arrive, and immediately after the competition he had gone straight to bed. I tried to probe my- memory for know- ledge of "the great Borodin." but at eight or nine one does not t.-kc great in- terest in these details. 1 know there was something ... I remember hearing my parents talking about it — some great scandal noon after I had seen him He was disgraced. 1 am sure. 1 have a vague idea he was in some way well-connected He was to marry a great lady, and then perhaps he eloped with a young barmaid ? I can- not be certain. It was something like that 1 know he disappeared from public life, for in after years, when people had been to similar performances, 1 had heard our parents say: 79

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine '* Ah. but you should have seen ' The Great Borodin.' " These memories, the peculiar thrill of the competition, the cold air. the lazy snow-flakes drifting hither and thither, all excited mc. I walked on farther and farther into the country, trying to piece it all together. I liked the landlord, and I shared the popular dislike of Mr. Stourway. After a time 1 returned, and making my way towards the north of the town I started to walk quickly in the direction of The Love-a-duck." Jf 1 hurried. I should l>e there tea minutes or so before closinc- time. When I entered the large bar-parlour the place was very crowded. I met old Hargreaves by the door. I'm afraid a good many rules of the society had been broken that evening. Old Hargreaves was not the only one who had had quite enough liquid refreshment. Everybody was in high spirits, and they were'still all talking about the competition. I met Mr. Bean near the fireplace, and I said : " Well. Mr. Bean, and have you heard how the boy is ? " " Oh. ay." he replied. " He soon got all right. Mis Wright says he were just a bit upset. He went off home not an hour since." " Did you see him ? " " Eh ? Oh. no. 1 didn't see m. Mrs Wright says he looked quite hisself." I he landlord was moving ponderously up and dowu behind the bar. I thought he looked tired, and there were dark rims round his eyes. 1 moved up towards the bar, and he didn't notice me. The noise of talking was so loud that one could speak in a normal voice without being heard Everything had apparently gone off quite successfully. Mr Stourway had sent along hi.s cheque for five pounds, and it was reckoned that he would never show bis lace m ' The Lovc-a-duck " again. I waited. At last I noticed that the landlord was quite alone. He was leaning against the Hcrvmg-hatcli, flicking some crumbs from tt» waistcoat, as though waiting for the moment of release I took my glass and Bulled „p to him I leant forWd a, though to speak. He glanced at me. and inclined h« head with a bored movent \\ hen his ear was within a reasonable dl* tance 1 said quietly : «*=*>uauie ms- " Rotten cotton gloves ! ' I shall never forget the expression on face of the landlord as he slowly raised head. I was conscious of being 'a pin-po in a yast perspective. His large, ra colourless eyes appeared to s»,.ep the w room. They were moreover charged wi a perfectly controlled expression of si prise and a kind of uncontrolled lustre ironic humour. I had a feeling that if laughed it would be the end of all ths— He did not laugh ; he looked lugubri right through my face, and breat neavdy. Then he swayed sliuhtlv fr side to side and looked at ray hat said : * "I've got some cherry -brandv you d like. You must have a el Mr *' 6 N'ow I do not wish to appear to j either as a prig, a traitor or a profiteer, am indeed a very ordinary, perhaps oi human member of Tiobelsford If I have taken certain advantages of landlord, you mus,t at any rate give the credit of being the only member o. large audience who had the right intuitu at the right moment. In all other rest vou must acknowledge that 1 haw him rather well. In any case. I L prominent in the inner circle without going the tortuous novitiateship casual stranger. The landlord and i are the best of fri« to this day. although we exchange no t odences I can break all the rules of masonic understanding without get! into trouble. Some of the others amazed at the liberties I take. And in thece days, when licensi restrictions are so severe, when things are not to be got (official when I see my friends stealing home to bone-dry supper. I only have to creep if** the bar of " The Love-a-duck " and whispef Rotten cotton gloves I " and lo • all lb*** forbidden luxuries are placed at my posal. Can you blame me ? I have said that we exchange no cof* Irtences. and indeed I fed that that wo*** oe going too far. taking too great advantage of my p-sition. There is only one small point I would love to dear vip- and II dare not ask Prciun.ing rr.\ \be<*l to be right about " The Great Borodin ' — which was he ? Tlie landlord ? Or the widow ? 80

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THL DOfMrYARD SMILE 5 By Berra Ruc\ = Aaihor of • H.. Officiml FUmeit," «tc HE young man of this story was called Dick, for a reason. ,l ' Dicks.' • Jacks ' and * Bills " BP1 Ret on. witn women. Which is a 4^, And so important in a boy's career," ilis Prctt>'- ambitious little mother, i fc^,. lm ^incd herself a woman of tlu " Let hun choose the right woman. ^•ic* ,00,t UP to nim- ' Hqi' *he woman, and the man mil if u'. Vo:' !- (j ! ' Oh. yes : he must be Dick 2** a boy " i ^nen he was burn, in a Sim urging- inco of t!^in?th t°*etber tu P°»nt «" trousseau- 'V? of nainsook and torchon hanging 7,th* brass rail of her bed. ^ P "urso " *hc whispered. " Wrap tfc, V« A«s mothers shift, atid the girls will k*t . OUI »«pcrstition, but so im- ft tk* ber ,a5t gaSP 1 Snc ,eft the chi,d «e young soldier-father who. a year ^ • Paid his own toll to the Empire in a skirmish Babv Dick was tent 4 t|*° a Mr Stubbs. the fanuly lawm »*atjlrUStC* charRC of what mo'uey *as extremely little. «*o the quite comfortable fltaWM W, near Manchester, tiny Dick •n to become " one of themselves." Mrs. Stubbs lie learnt to call For the puny bottle-reared Anglo- "»by was first laid in her lap at winch - would have been that of T^tu^ child had he lived ; and by some HPpen, ,^nu"»'l«" miracle that sometimes foster-mothers, she took the soldier's orphan more closely to her bosom than the two sons of her own blood. It was a labour of love with Mrs. Stubbs to see that this waif (" Look at his bonnie eyes, dad I ") had everything " as nice as his own poor mother could have wished. " I am afraid his own poor mother wouh have been rather distressed at many things in his upbringing among these kindly folk who taught him to call a table-napkin a " scrvyette" She would have " minded " — and so would his father ! — that there was no chance of Dick's being sent to the kind of preparatory school which — well in his family it had' always been followed (as the night the day) by public -school. Sandhurst, and one or two regiments or so. She would have taken as a tragedy what the Stubhses took as a great blessing — uamely, that at sixteen, young Dick had his start in life —a stool In the Man- chester office with his foster-brothers Cecil and Herbert Stubbs. Generations of soldier-blood in the boy's 'veins clamoured for a very different sort of life. He read Kipling, and wished he knew somebody who could have talked to him about his father in India. There seemed no chance of his ever getting to do so. ... It seemed as if his life-lines were pretty definitely laid down, when lie was sixteen. At sixteen, too. he was in love — and I .cloved. Now his mother {who had realised early the importance of women to a son's career) would have felt that her last words had been gasped out in vain. She had not wished him to be loved by a girl hke little Connie Stubbs. Tlus was Dick's first sweetheart It is Si

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine not true that boys never fall in love with the girls with whom they arc brought up. The apple falls at the foot of the tree. Again and again boys fall in love with the girl who is there. Little Connie was born two years after Dick's arrival from India. The only girl in a household of boys ! But Dick was Her small Majesty's favourite slave. When she was " a terror " for any one else, she would be " good " for Dick, she would " laugh for Dick " out of her bassinette. Dick taught her to walk. They learnt to read together. Dick's dusky cropped head bent above the alphabet close to her pale gold ringlets filleted with pale blue. She had a funny little way of smiling down at the " Royal Reader " in delight when she had put a word together quicker than the boy. Dick thought her lovely, and at six brought all the pennies of his money- box to buy her a birthday present of an india-rubber duck. After that it was an institution. " our Connie's birthday present." For weeks every year Dick saved up for (I put them in order) the rag-doll ; the Teddies, one. two. and three ; the paint-box ; the glass- lidded box of beads ; the sailor-dolly ; the doll's tea-set : and the doll's pram. Then came tlie birthday on which Connie came home from the holidays from a school more expensive than that to which the three boys had been sent. Her goldy ringlets were no longer filleted, but tied ;it the nape of her neck by a big sky-blue bow, and her dancing shoes had Louis heels " like lots of the girls." Dick, who was now going to the office, had already bought her a pink satin hat for the biggest doll. Quite suddenly he saw this would never do. The woman at the toy-shop (usually dis- obliging on principle) took it back without a murmur, from Dick. He bought instead a large bottle of White Rose in a case. From this moment little Connie realised that she loved Dick as a man. She ceased to kiss him. and began to smile at htm. a provocative downward smile, without looking at him. She knew before he did that he would, for this, give her anything that she asked. She was not a thinker or she might have given thought totbestrange- ness of the little, little things whereby one woman becomes different from others in a man's eyes. Upon her next birthday Dick's gift was a silver bangle with cowbells dangling . the birthday after, a brooch composed of two swallows in turquoises, wings out- spread and beaks together. (She had now i trf ■ceo" begun to let him kiss her.) Her sevent birthday saw her exclaiming over a si gold chain to which there was attached* a pendant a fat little gold heart. " That's mint," Dick muttered to afl " It's all yours, you know " " Oh. goodness," ejaculated little CoOM She didn't know what else to sav. She not a sayer . But all was said as she turn* upon this treasure her downward srall^ shyness and ecstasy. . . Her people said there was plenty to think about that sort of thing ^ sent them seemed to loom more and » shadowy through the smoke of war- home people whom he Summed " k>ve to all " became also s. Connie was not a writer " Ma. Stubbs. and little Connie grew, as _ went on, less real to him than *cl'°*iH his company, bound to turn now by leas ties of the common existence. • Every household in Britain P°^JJ^B descriptions by letter or memory "f^' that existence was ; so why P*r,lP%>-> them ? One incident of that tint* * never put in any letter. tf 9 It was when he. with a gather***, , mud-coloured scallawags in chargeim stripling officer were straggling ^TV^ down the chocolate-brown stream tn*\3t& been a road. Beside that stream ^ officer, less war-worn, cast a 8^°^?* asked curiously. " What mob are yJJ"jjB§ The • and his from over-sir aia in command J»Jftrf* broke out p***-'

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Berta Ruck n WTjo are yoa calling a mob ? J" that -s l.-ft of the s. and tr R* shook the abvluto B-st t! BP the line." His cvr*s as he triv This is the " — his hat ever he turned the understand* ig eyes of the __ldier nearest to liim — Dick. ^Bprtly after this, th«r striph officer to Dick the firmest reality in the ^■feaamatcoria of the new life. In rest- iv*8, he asked Dick his name. '^H^i/ ; ho exclaimed when Dick it** >t- It was not a usual sort of name. C*hich reason I omit it. " Was your ^^iior bv any chance an Indian Army r ' Wasn't he killed in 'ninety-six ? * -Vfts. sir." sr. -.J I'nvate Diclc r : l stripling officer, whose name was le Breton, held out his hand. " My was with him. He was his great « I've often heard him talk of him. 3?». isn't it ? " Mj.Rath-.-r." asr>vd Dick, shaking hands, P* the feeling that a curtain was going h* V>me fresn ncw act of his Wc. t^-ently young le Bretnu was urging Hfc> try for his commission. When a >.. P* or so later Dick won it on the field, f?°eived congratulations not only from Jub-.l-tfit household in the North, but gfcarming letter from Mrs. le Breton, from her husband the General, pleasant home near Maidenhead, heard so much from their Harry the son of their old friend that they * to know him quite well. At the t opportunity he must come and ns leave with them and they would »g talks about old times in India, w leave, long anticipated saw Lieutenant Dick not at Manchester •ttt in a house that seemed incredibly r- The General and his wife were Bg to the son of their long-lost I told him it was " his father over as he came into the Hall, told him •t always look upon this as the •f caH. ... At once he loved it 1 atmosphere of Indian associations, "Wed heads, its coloured numnahs * sketches by the General's wife of a had shared, one hot a mother. . fir. Sua He felt it Herbert Stubbs. who amission, came back to ■ster without his foster- tter of explanation ar- the war-fatted calf was being he arrival of both the boys. Mrs. Stubbs repeated several *£™»t as th ?^lor th times that it was natural after all that Dick should want to go and look up these new people who could tell him something about his father and that pretty young mother of his that Ihe boy had never seen — " or her him. really." as Mrs. Stubbs added blowing her nose on her husband's handkerchief, and concluding that there was nothing for anybody to mind. As for little Connie, she said nothing and seemed absorbed in the humours of Herbert's ncw mess as related by her brother. Not even her mother knew that when (after a Icave-orgie at the theatre with Herbcrt^and some of his pals) the girl went to barroom, she did not undress quickly and slip into bed. Instead, she opened a drawer and took from it a cardboard-box containing some battered-looking dolls, part of a doll's tea-set, and an ornate glass bottle that had contained White Rose. The cow-bell bangle, the swallow brooch, the plump golden heart on its chain and the regi- mental badge she was wearing as usual. The other things she set on the bed. She smiled, an uncertain, brooding downward smile, upon them. once. Then dressed as she was in her bright frock, the httle creature lay down. Without sobbing, without sound or movement, she lay rigid under the eiderdown, her sentimental relics close beside her. Until the chill spring dawn she lay, staring with an intensity into the darkness, her inward eyes seeing the face of Dick. Dick, who could already see nothing but the face of another girl !— the proud and sweet young face of his friend's sister. Sybil le Breton. Sybil was a revelation to Dick be- cause . . . Well, every young man in love tells m that the girl has " opened a new world " to him. Sybil, tall. slim, and a pearly- skinned brunette, opened to this worshipper the world of his mother. That pretty and ambitious and prejudiced woman would have summed up the situation by saying that Sybil was the first " lady ' he had ever known. Whereas Dick told himself that it was because she was "just Sybil" that her voice and ways and looks were different from those of any other girl he had met. He realised at once and hopelessly that he loved her. The way she spoke to her father J the way she called the dogs : her gesture as she touched, in passing, a bowl of hyacinths set in fibre : the feel of her long 8j

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine slender band in his when she said good- night ; the queenly little lift of her chin ; her sweet direct eyes ; a tag of public- school slang sounding quaintly on her lips ... all these he adored. Just as dear to him were her outlook on all the things for which he cared, her pride in her men-folk, her inclusion of himself among her own people ; he felt that. . . . Her father, smoking after dinner, told him casually that it was jolly here in the summer when there would be tennis and punting, even if it were a bit dull just now. " Dull, sir I " echoed poor Dick. For six nights of his leave the boy reminded himself that he hadn't an earthly, hadn't a brown, or any prospects, and that as soon as he went away it " must be Good- bye— ee I " to these hopeless dreams as well as to the Princess of them. Still there were four precious days left in which he might look at Sybil, misht talk and walk with Sybil, dance with Sybil to the gramophone iu the evening, run up to town and do a matinee with Sybil. He need not bother Sybil by letting her suspect that he had made a young ass of himself. That he determined. The boy proposed to her on the seventh day of his leave. Immediately afterwards he admitted that he had been mad. that he'd no right to say a word, but that she was so lovely he couldn't help it, and that if she could' give him a little hope to go away with, he would do his absolute dashedness to make good. Sybil gave him her direct gaze and said qnite simply and royally, " But I wished you to. I care for you ! " Her people took it in the same spirit ; her mother just saying. '* Poor Mabel's boy : how delightful ! " and her father. " In these days one is quite thankful for 09 to keep together a bit . . . " and Dick was caught up so high into the seventh heaven that he almost forgot to write and tell them about it in the North. Manchester, which had become shadowy before ever he met Sybil, was now a dream. " Home " was Sybil— if only he could grow worthy of her t As for little Connie, he forgot her with the completeness of which a young man is master at these moments. At the beginning of his visit, memories had occasionally come to Kim of the little foster-sister, memories that showed her so changed I For in the light of the revela- tion of Sybil he saw Connie as a nrettv little thing who dressed as if she came from behind the glove counter at Bollingaworths and who put on rather too ranch scent and 84 rather too many bits of cheap jewelH and who said " Lay down ! " insteM " Lie down " to the kitten, who excwl " Oh. goodness I " too often, and called a table-napkin a " servyette.*^ The Manchester people wrote protf., and conventionally, but kindly aboo*' news. Connie didn't write, but then-' never had been a writer; he never' anything but postcards and parcels Connie. She sent her love and verfi»J,| wishes in her mother's letter. And. f goodness, there was nothing in that, all, about "shock" or "losing hirfl' " forgetting poor old Ma." He'd little afraid of that. And now no. he wasn't hurt, far from it ' becW there wasn't anything. The Stubbse**?! not a family to put anything in ,et!^» Dick concluded that the war. *JJ changes everything, had got the Stu^J accustomed to the idea that a fost^TJ is no relation and that he. luck, definitely left their nest . It might have been a war -v. he went back, but for leave b cut short. Sybil's fiance returned" to 8J5| and Duty, with intervals of ribblmg 'j. letters — Sybil's letters were wonden1 and of longing. . . . He got no more leave until the tol July. It was sick-l^ave after being ^ha gassed. For once Dick blessed t»e and from his Board he rushed off jov' , I \# 1 -It 'J to Maidenhead and to Sybil. wb< had made queenlier and to the I tions for their wedding. Everybody ' agreed upon the wedding being at^2j The house was full of wedding-prese*1^ new clothes. Dick, with Svbil, ^h0^ taken leave from her hospital spent «• y of the last hours of their engage11 the green garden that sloped down willows at the water's edge. I' v\cf^ halcyon time indeed. Sybil how such delight could last as this a a Then, one day, came a cloud. J**?* slight, so carefully concealed. thatj"!2l would have noticed anything 'v ' woman in love. Sybil, looking at the h*n.:*o«* opposite her in the rocking punt, *J*^ lover that morning what the ma1""* He came out of the reverie t° 9 g}*1 his Princess, in her fresh &teC°J " Matter, darling ? Nothing- HH there be anything r " " Something is worrying yon. sisted gently in the exquisitely c voice that sometimes found n*01 she didn't think that he'd any

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Berta Ruck Bj**ot. " Dick, there is something on J^Ur mind. Is it money ? You know 7^ will be all right. Father is going to *Ufk that berth (or you the moment the H s over. And. anyhow——" - Oh i I know. I'm not worrying abont w^.-y j_e declared. " The money's to»» come, if I want it for You 1 " B ?"e smiled reassured at his tone. "Then ^ kn't. ln.k. lh.it you don't care for mc Pjnuch as you thought you did when you *'o ^aiUi seriously and adoringly. " I seem P^are for you a thousand times more " H/Thcn.'' she said in her delicious voice, K>u'll nil me exactly what it is that's wrong this morning. For I know is something. What is it ? " this ho made a movement as if he throwing off some light burden and sg it before her to see. Jt'a just this." he confessed. " To-day 1 was looking at the calendar again, i see for myself how many dates I'd off (you know now how I've been out the days till our wedding). I was the third of August. Well, you that's little Connie's birthday — Stubbs. my foster-sister." :Oh yes." said Sybil very gently. She heard a little about Connie and she tuessed a good deal more. said, " Every year up to now I've a present to the kid. Last August *t a souvenir shell-case. This year 1 forgot about everything, of course j2? somehow, when I remembered, 1 Bped to see her little face — she's such a (f?~-aH blank and disappointed because i^n't thought of her." My <l?ar boy 1 " said Sybil quickly. " if ■ha » all I Of course she must have a *nt. isn't the house full of presents ? 1° go in now and choose something for ' °«t of our wedding-presents ; and you f Rive it her on her birthday after all. i TP 'o Manchester this afternoon — you'll **»ere fox dinner — and come back to- Ow n^i„. it's the simplest thing Lj, said. " It is to you. There's no- ?y hke you. Sybil, in the world." W Come and choose," she smiled. They fUj. '!e punt and went into the house t«i r ^»t***e hi *he drifts of tissue paper and ■^P* cases. Dick's first choice was of a V'r •***rt -shaped photograph frame that »*id "looked" rather like Connie. Sybil said quickly, " You can*t give her that ; my dear thing, she sent it to us I Look, here's this little Indian hand mirror ; this is rather sweet, and besides they always say that the gift of a mirror that a woman has had brings luck" to the next owner. Take her this, Di< •■ Dick said. " It's topping, but can you spare it ? " " Hut of course." said Sybil, and she added inwardly, " If I can spare him for all those hours I But I owe her this one last time — poor little child I " Taking the wedding-present that was to be a birthday-gift, Dick went of! to Man- chester. His last look back at Sybil showed her standing on thewhite steps of her home ; her green gown suiting the delicate dignity of her figure as its foliage suits the birch. A gracious sight she was. . . . Her last look gave his salute and the worshipping torn towards her of his handsome eyes. It was the last time she was to see them. He went, with her offering to the girl who was ten times less than she in beauty, brain, breeding, and all else but one thing. That one thing, what was it ? Was it part of the temperament that could let little Connie lie tense and tearless, fully dressed, through the night to ache for him ? Was it the single-mindedness that knew no pride in anything but him, no interest, no delight ? What spell of years past lent magic to her bodily presence as soon as he was in her sight once more 5 For Dick did not return next morning as he had arranged. That evening Sybil le Breton got his expressed letter, curt with the curtucss of a man profoundly nRitatcd. " I can never ask you to forgive me." Dick wrote. " As soon as I got back home and saw her little face I knew it would have to be Her and not you, and so we were married this morning." As Sybil guessed, he liad shown this lettei to his wife. Little Connie had read it silently, seriously. Onlv as she turned away — and how should Sybil guess this ? — there had crossed her face Iks tspreition with which I he had creeled Dick'* s-ddfn appeatane* th* day befort. It was her child's look ol triumph, her young-guTs look of shyness and rnplurc. her woman's look — that haunting, withheld, mysterious, secret and stirring Downward Smile.

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BOROT/ ^ u Flax •Its no* in-Vs u*i& " ZU waa ■ W,, therefore har moral .lanaWiol wU U K I— 71 l*»W«L Lun, Hi ».„, «raf »j|y a^J .ret^n.*^, rf and therefore la *• PAK had never made warm friends, therefore no one waa sorry for Pak '* Pak of Pennyfields " was how he was known in the East of London, where he nacl lived ever since landing in England some eight years ago. * How nervously happv he had been bow ,hm?°£?nt ,an.d, excitedl Both emotions i m , , ,"?dcn to the best of Pak's ability, for did not Zia. his wonderful bride look up and depend absolutely on her man' Zia was then a little young thing of wxtcen. Pak was a man £ his8 twentieth year, so of course it behoved him to show Zia what a pillar of strength she had to lean on m this new country where be had brought her. so far. far from Poland beings, but merely cumbercrs of the earth u^SSZt*"* pak w" a man- hoJrs- SS man' ^ — to die in a few TaTor ^ « ^ £ The father's heart swelled ■■ w. u the beauty and cleverness^ "aH jS^ That little one would have been .Treat «6 man." he smiled, and then the smile &£i the softness left Pak's eyes, his dimioo^ frame stiffened, involuntarily his ha0* tensed as he held them crooked before hi** his hps drew back baring his teeth in a«*S Pak. alone in his prison cell, lived again*!} last minutes of his freedom, before *** P^ce— -| Ah wcD. Jacob would *»" been eignt years of age had he lived. ^ My son is a English little fellar. be t** bom here," Pak had been proud of cluong Jacob to all and sundry with ^ remarks. * It was true enough, the babe had c<*£ to rejoice the lives of his parents in** Za nonths from the time they left Poland ^ had settled in Crutch Walk Whiw*"-'. !" t ^2™ (a wb°le room to thonsf^ that had been rented to the husband wife by Nicolas Markovitcb (second to Pak) in Nicolas', own house, ovtf *" own shop. . Nicola-, was a big man. Pak was V*°a'\3i him He was not only large of build. *<J2» broad chap._ with huge shoulders and efl . mous head, but be was rich as well . **3 the only things that were small Nicolas were his eyes, his mind. — moral sense, but the rest of his m***" "7 compensated for lack mind, and morality. Nicola* not only rented 7*

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wghs Wfc v. it paid Pak as much as twelve ibillings a week to work lor him, meting three of these shillings laymcat lor the six by-eight attic the happy husband and wife lived itedly as though the panes in the were unbroken, the paper did not R in damp strips from the narrow walls, ■cjhe ceiling did not sag menacingly in ^"y spots. They looked into one another's eyes and J*-'kd : they had a room, a home to them- and the large Nicolas had personally Hnncted them to the attic, and after PJtamdrng on his generosity to this poor ,°*in of hi.-, from Poland, had left tliem *** their two neat bundles (which contained Jj'their worldly good?) in this Paradise, trailed with a three-legged chair, a candle and on tlu.- floor a straw mattress, ^"ik's gratitude had been supreme: he from sun-up till midnight, and jes later, in order to give Nicolas worth of the generous wage he paid stitching of men's suits, which were great advantage in the shop, those early days, before the coming of b. Zia too had helped with her ..ving very close to her Uttle hus- where they could whisper words of »nd hope to one another. Nicolas had °een pleased at the arrival of the baby, ' J^ht interfere with work. ». * baby 1 I did not tell you I let you have jj^by live in my room." he growled, when taj i v father told of the great event. Bfc"fca nice baby, 'e very quiet, just im go H&goo.' no cry." pleaded Pak. ^Kp»ell. you pay me a 'alf shilling more. Eh',n> can stay." consented the generous Ord fa/* jth tears in his eyes Pak called down Cj^ogs on the head of his relative, and Wjhig the tiny morsel of humanity from „ fnother, proudly carried it to gladden .. i of Nicolas. 8°t a fonny mark on V» *cad." was ■S'ovitch's only comment as he gazed T^usly at thr baby. lucky mark ; 'c be a clever ^ ttu , „aar." asserted Pakttoutly. softly **av> the large brown mole that showed **tinctly jost above the child's left j^ow wnrkifd hard r than ever, his simply flew over the work, as he fc*g»«d dreams of a future when little V*LWoald become big Jacob, and show -*°rtd what a reall v clever man could do. ;%t«***^me* Pak became almost (rig'itened , gran.li!oquenk« of his own ambitions Dorota Flatau for this son of him; he pictured Jacob as even owning a shop of his own. similar to that of the great Markovitch. But these romantic thoughts were told to no one but Zia. and even to her only in the lowest of whispers. Little Jacob inherited his mother s great soft eyes, which had so thrilled Pak when he first met his Zia— large, brown, appealing eyes that, set in Zia's lovely oval face, called to all who saw them. Even Nicolas himself was not impervious to their allure, nor indeed to the girl- wife's whole beauty, for beautiful Zia certainly was. Her clear skin of olive tint, with the very scarlet lips that go with such a complexion, the masses of soft hair, black as tlie wing of a raven, growing low down on a smooth, broad fore- head, the sensitive nostrils of a perfectly shaped nose, tiny cars and hands, all helped make Zia the lovely woman she was. There would come into the narrow eyes of Nicolas an evil gleam when he encountered Zia; her slender figure with its gently swelling bust and hips did not escape his notice. Zia was a Polish Jewess, therefore from cruel necessity she was not innocent ; she knew the meaning of such expression as she saw in the coarse, voluptuous face of Nicolas Markovitch: but she loved her little husband and adored her precious babe, and held her peace, whilst she skilfully endeavoured to avoid their landlord as much as possible. " Yon stay up in the room too much, you be ill. you come out for walking," Nicola* invited one day on meeting Zia as she came Into the shop to bring back some work Pak had just completed. I no sick, t ank you. Nicolas." she replied timidly. •" You come " It was half invitation, half command. " I no leave my baby " Zia placed the work on the counter, and edged nervously back towards the rickety stairs. "That bratl" Nicolas was irritated " You leave 'im. 'e sleep." " 'E wake up. cry for me. is muma, explained Zia 6 Pak attend to 'im. you come, scowled Nicolas. " Pak must be busy with a work. •• Just like I knew, a big fool was I. a soft- carted big fool, to 'ave Pak in ray work with a baby. Childrcns is no good for work." Nicolas was really annoyed, aud 7-ia trembled. What if she and Pak were turned out into the street with baby Jacob I 87

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine " Me, I go ask Pak." she soothed, and Nicolas nodded assent. " I mind the little foliar, it do yon good, ray Zia. to go out pice walkin' with Nicolas," smiled Pak, pausing for the fraction of a precious minute to look lovingly at his wile and to steal a glance at the child, who lay peacefully sleeping on the coarse mattress, close to where Pak sat cross-legged with a pile of clothing ready to be stitched along- side him. Several times during the hoar that followed the father indulged in the luxury of an adoring gaze at the head of black silken curls, and each time his eyes fell on the curious brown mole over his son's left temple he smiled j that distinctive mark pleased him. he never failed to kiss it when he held the child in his arms. "All ah, that Nicolas is a good fellar. 'e "ave a big 'eart. God is good, even "elp the Jew." communed Pak. and his simple heart sent up a prayer of thanksgiving. The babe was awake when Zia returned flushed and excited from her unusual exclusion. " We been a long walk, up the Commer- cial Road." rushing to pick up her baby, smothering him with kisses, as she scanned him with anxious eyes, for tins was the first time she had left httle Jacob for more than a few minutes. " Nicolas 'e make me 'ave some wine iu a nice glass, 'e say it do me good " And Mtting down on the mattress, with Iter babe in her arms. " it make me feel all fon n v and giddy." she explained. " That Nicolas is a wise one, 'c is a good chap," applauded Pak Then n most phenomenal thing occurred. Pak dropped his work I " Zia, my Zia, "ow beautiful you are I " he breathed. " What 1 Oh, you grow silly, my little 'usband." but Zia laughed well pleased at the praise. " Your eyes they shine like great stars, and you 'ave pink in your cheeks like the new sun that come up through the window iu the morning. Oh. my Zia. my wonderful darling." Pak worked until after midnight, to atone for the five minute*' spell he had given him- self in which to worship the mother and child — lufc whole world II The first tiny black spot appeared on the horizon of Pak's happiness when he found Zia crying on the st airs one day lie insisted on knowing the cause. Zia had completely broken down and confessed thru Nico" was making ber life unbearable by his * desired attentions. Small as he was. Pak faced the 1«| Nicolas in a fury of rage, commar.din" tbJ his wife be left in peace. " That is the way. Always one sce*| begger on 'orseback, 'e get too saucy 9 'is place. You get out of 'ere ^ o0 .! quick, or I kick you out. See. I 'ate y*jj and I "ate your kid with 'is bad mark * 'is 'ead. See ? " ^ Pak's fury increased to b!. ! > at *■* insult to his son ; he giew livid and sh°? with the strength of his emotion as Jf hurled insults and threats at the eqo** angry Markovitch. " I put you before the door. You I send for policemans," had b».*rn the •** words Pak heard from his cousin, beg he rushed up the crazy stairs, and gatntfg together the family belongings along Jacob and the frightened Zia. had cart* them all out into Crutch Walk, ak^j Commercial Road, eventually landing in Sydney Street, where he found 1c in the house of a Lascar . who kept s t~ rag house mainly for his own ez ' people. Pak soon found work, but he was to go out to his tailoring, and that leaving Zia and Jacob alone for eighteen hours out of every twenty- Zia's beauty had increased with until now she was too dangerously tive to be left alone. With a heavy heart Pak had been to abandon his job in order to go' wife. The next few years were t for the Polish Jew ; he grew mart nervous, and looked ten yean be really was. Farther and farther East duffed until they landed up in Castor on to Penny holds Here. Pak' got work in a Chinese 1» where the fat and suave owner. LaB*. was gracious enough to accord thctt *\ ings. plus a small remuneration. 00 premises of the laundry itself. l-un*_ was large and slow moving, his slan* appeared to see nothing, he wore chin beard and drooping inou Unlike bis compatriots who bad Penny fields, he had not altoi carded the dress of bis country, nor ', ,„„ ever to be seen without a ^5*31 black skull cap. and an orange cord JH he wore round his neck — an oraUg* p that hum; f*r down, reaching t *nV.* ula "* paunch. Ilia stoutness in China wo 88

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B greatly esteemed as adding to his a'v beautv- . . . •teg Hi did a thriving trade, both with laundry and devious tradings. *e wldom spoke, and never showed fcement. not even when he got the big « in Puk-a-pue by hitting on the whole LlDarks which gamblers were allowed to kto for the sum ol one shilling. Lunn .Was not an individual to be overlooked ; {personality. allied to his success at long mouey. gave him quite a standing Kit had accepted this employment in P laundry as a desperate means to ward ! 'he • arvatkm tliat threatened his small and at the same time keep them *•* under his protection, f 'Only for a little short time, my Zia. Wared his wife ; " soon, oh very soon I B| find me another job with the tailoring. ^ will work *ard and make much, much ^Oey for you and that big clever rascal ■ * I think me it would 'ave been better *ie— I 'ad not been such a fool with that SSv .... ' .-: ;•:-.',! I / : • '• ! ■•■ » married to a white man. so iL?mht ter know." she asserted with «Ttk best to you. Beola ? " i clioosc i a white will Dorota Flatati black your eye. while a Chink will cut your b throat." stated Bcela calmly. " You no frighten of Chinaman, Beela ? ( " I ain't frightened of man nor monkey, bragged R-wla : " you only got to know ow to manage 'em. and they re simple as drinkin' gin. If you've took up with a white, keep out of 'is way when e s in drink. If you've took up with a uninw. there's some things you got to remember if you don't want is k>iife acrost your throat. One thing is. don't talk to a Chink before twelve o'clock, 'specially if e s gout to 'ave a flutter at Fan-Tan . if you re is own bloomin' wife, and you're bem mur- dered, 'e won t come to your elp if B s- before twelve o'clock, not im : let you die. 'e wdl- Them silly Chinks thinks «t *bad hick for a woman to speak to 'em before midday." And so Beela imparts I wisdom as she had learned it in the East End. whilst Zia listened spell-bound. ... Pak did not approve of the sudden friend- ship that had sprung up between htswrle and Bcela. but it would haw been difficult to stop it on account of their enforced pro- pinquity, he consoled himself continually by asserting that he would soon find another job." . But month after month crept by. aa-l still found him in the employ of Lung JW first Lung Hi appeared to disregard Pak and Iils family ; they were good workers, so he paid them as he did any other toiler in hb laundry. Then gradually he began to pay some attention to Jacob many a time he would slip a copper into the tiny hands for sweets But in spite of his generosity, the boy was too like his father in character to readily make friends ; he would stand off and stare, with large, brown, fascinated eyes, at the fat Chinaman, and most of all at the bright orange cord Perhaps it was the gaudy colour that caught the baby- eye and held ft ; but whatever it was. little Jacob could not keep his gaie from the cord whenever he was in Lung Hi s vicinity " You like it. eh ? " Utt| l«' «b* boy one day. touching the cord that Tiling on his chest. Yes." nodded Jacob. •' Maybe I give it yon one day. bsme- by." and Lung Hi smded. Now Lung Hi's smile was something to be* feared ; it was a very slow widening of bis mouth, his eye* never smded. With a terrified shnek of " Daddie I ' Jacob took to his heels, and in shed to hxs father'* tide. . " What the matter with you ? asked

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine Pak. placing his iron carefully on the stand, before stooping down to his son. " N-nothing," confessed Jacob. " Nothing I Then why you cry out, why you all tremble, tell me that ? " Pak looked anxiously at the little chap, who only shook his head as he clung close to his father. " Where is mummie ? " he asked. " Mummie gone with Bcela for walking." and Pak sighed, Zia was often away with Bcela these days. " You be good boy. sit here, and I give you ha'penny," he coaxed, pushing back the silky black curls in artta to caress the •• lucky mark." " Tell me about the garden with the flowers, daddie," begged the child, seating himseli obediently out of the way of the ironers. As Pak worked, he spoke of the garden he hail conjured out of his vivid imagination to please little Jacob, whose eyes and soul were starved for the softness and colour he loved from hearsay alone, for Jacob had never seen a garden, ex- cepting through his father's eyes. Whenever the highly strung boy was wakeful or feverish, he could always be soothed to rest, and sleep, by word painting of beauty and colour. Now he listend intently, as his parent told him of magic fields covered with soft green grasses, all damp with dewdrops, of little blue flowers, the colour of stars, of big red roses, pink roses, white roses, as soft as his own mummie 's satiny cheek. " And could I touch them, daddie ? " pleaded Jacob breathlessly. Touch them I Why, you pick. one. two, free, many as you like, they all yours! And small yellar flowers like gold " " Like Lung Hi's cord ? " " Yes-. "ke 'e's cord, and you make a lot of them in a necklace, one for you, and one for your mother, and they smell so sweet, they send you bye-bye, and when you wake up— hi I you see a lot new flowers the good God drop down for you to play with. Then you walk over a small hill, and you come to tho big blue sea " " Like the canal, daddie ? " Jacob shrank a little, for the dark, turgid water at Dukes Wharf, through Limehouse Hole, 25 "rSKf 2£r p,ayed- »** fa5Cinated " Yes. but more bcautiiuller,"Pak assured nim. " No, no. 1 like the garden best Smilingly Pak abandoned the sea and reverted to glowing descriptions of such a garden as has never been seen outside of heaven, while the beauty-loving child hunc on his every wsrd, As Pak talked, his thoughts were Zia. Where was she ? Where was ■ leading her ? The little Jew's heart ' heavy. " You go and ask the old blighter toi us "ave 'alf an hour ofl, Zia," Bcela w* suggest ; " 'e likes vou all right, 'e '11 MS go." " Why you not ask 'im ? " Zia baifl first objected. " I ain't 'is first fav'rite 'ere ; you're fl all right." the astute Beela assured her. 4 I not want to leave my Jacob." M " You're fair balmy about that 31 Pak 11 look after 'im." And gradually* had allowed herself to be persuaded W begging for half-hours off with her frieJW At first Lung Hi scarcely seemed to fl heard Zia's timid requests ; a men- nod J his head was the only answer he gavejP eyes, as they looked at Zia, appeared sleej and duller than ever. These half br grew into hours, then into half-days, sometimes whole ones. Still Lung ; nothing Perhaps be did not not girls' absence ; at any rate Pak boj did not. for he became increasingly of losing his job. On her return from these jaunts at>* Pak noticed, with a strong feeling of easiness, that Zia appeared changed; would be either wildly excited, or so and irritable that it would be nm " even speak to h__ But in whatever condition she camel her first thought was always for bet whom she would pet and fondle and ^_ oyer, telling him that " whatever hapf*t_ his mummie would always love him. never, no never, leave him." " When daddie get rich I go to a g**f2 and make you a vellow necklace *S flowers, and one for me. and one *^ daddie." promised Jacob. # Zia laughed as she kissed the loC^ mark. 4 " You looking verv fashion in that blouse, my Zia; where vou get it ? " " Beela give it me . she got a good that Beela." Zia assured her husband. ,- " Where you go so much with Be»-1» ■ " We go look at shops, and go ~*3*\& that's all," frowned Zia " H I not gPTA her. I not see any life; you work. the time, not take me nowhere. St* S take Bcela to see the pictures." £4 was the Chinaman on whom Be*»* chosen to bestow her favours. ^ t " I soon find another job. then I JJg > more money, and take you to see P^V'^t Pak promised bravely " 1 frightened «*"^ 9°

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K*frVe m the sack when you always out," ,*Pplogiscd timidly. 1 «ot 'iin, 'e never notice." scofled Zia ; JJ*1 »nly that Pak was so intent on his ^HQR. he might have re marked his wile's J2*^0ns smile as she made this statement. u"?Oer knowing look at the fat Chinaman S^POetor, who sat sphinx-like at the door laundry, as usual appearing to hear ^*«e nothing. Ill i. \ l-Jr *,as a long time before Pak began to (J?!? that Lung Hi was most often absent fj*a Zia was not in the laundry. Then a ' n^3Ppren brilliantly lighted bar rooms, and and talk with other pleasure-seekers. Vt* - Pak could not give these things to Haters would, and did. HEv^ld her head high, and unconsciously ^^E^ the cunottv heavy, bitter odour that "found the passage which she entered. Dorota Flatau After roughly brushing aside two young Chinamen who lounged on the door-step, without a pause she ascended the short flight of steps, and opening a door passed into a poorly lighted, sparsely furnished room, where the several Chinamen who were seated tranquilly smoking did not even look up at her as she entered. It was Lung Hi who handed her a pipe, and after a whiff or so Zia's discontent and impatience left her. she sat as quietly and dreamily as the other occupants of the room. Lung Hi, fingering his orange neck-cord, watched her with unfathomable eyes. He wanted this woman, he must have her. he would have her j his eyes were almost closed, the tip of his tongue licked his upper lip under the straggly moustaches, his hands opened and closed very slowly. Lung Hi had demanded nothing from Zia when he presented her with money, clothes, jewellery, or took her to music-halls and other amusements, which Pak credited to Beela 's generosity. No. Lung Hi was too thorough, too cunning to make a demand ; he hinted, he requested, and took Zia's rebuffs good-naturedly, while he studied the question. Zia was a Jewess, therefore her moral standpoint was high, but Zia was a woman and therefore to be tempted. Lung Hi went carefully and systematically to work. Bccla had quite unconsciously come to his assistance ; Lung Hi gloated secretly when he saw the two girls going ofl arm-in- arm on their perfectly innocent jaunts. The first time he allowed himself to meet tliem he merely spoke a few good-natured words and passed on. Gradually these seemingly accidental encounters happened more and still more often, and the few words grew into conversations. Then be took to accompanying them on their excur- sions, until Zia scarcely remarked the first time she and Lung Hi met with no Zia seldom saw Beela. but it was seldom she did not spend an hour or so in Lung Hi's company, not out of any affection tor the fat Chinaman, but because he had accustomed her to look to him for any little luxury she wished to powiuM ; she had but to ask. Lung Hi gave willingly Long Hi. squatting on the wooden bench in this silent, darkened room, watched Zia, who. seated on a low stool, sat with arms hanging listlessly by her sides, bur head bent on her chest ; and decided that such a prize was well worth all the tune and thought he had given, although, so far. 9*

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine Zia had given him nothing but an occa- sional smile and many hours of her company. It was not Pak who stood in Lung Hi's way, nor was it only Zia's rigid sense of morality. The real block in the path was Jacob. Zia would do nothing that might harm her son. or that might lead to her losing widen< rid of. Afte the be from hen — I.ung Hi's mouth d in a slow grin — Jacob must be got t this decision lie took to studying y. and often Jacob would look up lis play, down at Duke's Wharf, where he spent much time in Ashing up pieces of chalk and driftwood from the foul water, to see Lung Hi standing silently fingering the orange cord, and watching mm. The ugly whispers coupling Lung Hi's name with that of Zia's grew to loud con- temptuous talk, until Pak was driven well- nigh crazy. He took to doing without some of his already too sparse meals, in order to save enough money to justify him in taking an hour off from the laundry, to hunt up another job. " Another job " would surelv give him back his former happiness, would break down the wall that had impercep- tibly grown between him and his wife. By hying on a starvation rliet. and working feverishly, he managed to saw ten shillings . only then did he feel justified in leaving the boning board late one afternoon, in order to seek new woik. Ho told no one of his plans, but. waiting until the kindly dusk fternoon. ospective ess. Pak at on his from the of five o'clock on an autu that would help to hide from a p employer his extreme shabbii crammed an old one-time-black 1 head and stealthily crept forth laundry. It was the first time for many a day that he had gone more than half a dozen 'yards from the place of his toil. He felt a wild excitement take possession of . him. He would succeed, he must succeed. He smiled as he pictured Zia's face when he informed her that her little husband had gained a more remunerative position. He felt very sure of himself, and planned that out of his very first new wages h- would take Zia and Jacob on Saturday night to a picture-palace, a delight of which he had only heard, for so far lie had not t«ren in a position to afford the loxury of aTisit to one of these halls of wonderful ent-rtaiu. ment. Keeping close to the wall, he trotted swiftly along, for all the world like a Strav dog that fears a cuff or a lack. It was to the shop of one Mauievitch 92 that he was bound ; he had heard that Aaron Manievitch was in need of liands. and surely he would not ref" take so skilled a workman as Pak inW services. Then he saw a sight that froze hi* heart, that caused him to stand as t" petrified. His mouth and eyes oj wide, his body sagged sideways, as he sK and stared at his wife, his Zia co«ail laughing along, with Lung Hi He could not move, he could not tM_ his head shook back and forth as tM he had been stricken with a palsy. He stood rooted to the spot until after the two had passed out of Neither of the couple had seen him. thought, but Lung Hi's eyes missed no Pak felt his head turning room round ; he leaned against the wall, hi closed. How long he remained tbi never knew, but it was almost dark ' his errand forgotten, he turned to r his steps. His face was wet with the that in his weak state bad rushed uncb from his eyes. Ail unconsciously he found his for carried him through Limehousc Hole, to Duke's Wharf . of coarse he want little comrade Jacob, and there he the child, lying flat on his stomach. I down into the thick yellow wat.r of canal, crooning softly to himself. That night had marked the of the end When be spoke to Zia of what be seen, she did not even trouble to deny *2 " What about it i There is no 'aflffl Lung Hi wallrin' 'ome with me if we *°.meet' is tnere ? " demanded Zia defl^H I not like h, Zia my own • vou ax* ■ beautiful, too good, to be with 'im. work "ard and buy you nice things ' very soul was in his eyes as he spultf " Me. I am dead before that 'ap sneered Zia. " No. I get me a good job " Zia's raucous laughter interrupted he bowed his head in his hands and " You not a man. Pak. v<m try always poor." Zia's brows met in a < ane stood looking down at the cro 'Sure of her husband, with a w» discontent. dot — look. Zia. I got he displayed his »ae shape of ten shining *bj Zia's eyes opened 6't~<-Jt. - take it. you 'nve it ft* \ J) Zia my own. "he begged. Then, ashef*^! the money into her willing palm. I"'' n ■■■ tiespair and " I not J Tremblingly meals, in the " Ten bob. " Yes. you jtam . fid <u ; ID- If'

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Dorota Flatau J* Lung Hi walkin' with you again, my ' he begged. Oh, the fat old Chink's all right, 'e not **no 'arm." evaded Zia. **°nj that moment Pak hated Lung Hi, * Lung Hi knew it. He smiled ; it was not 3, *he miserable undersized ironer, he J*6*! his thoughts over, but Jacob. **ng Hi knew that Jacob was the link Fkept the desirable Zia chained to Jfetability £hen Jacob disappeared ! *he child failcrl to put in an appearance ••veiling With a feeling of growing un- Pak waited for his son. All the te he worked, his ears listened, and his * watched for the coming of the boy. * was not until ten o'clock that night, g Zia returned to the laundry, that Pak ***d how he had been waiting for her ■jog. not for herself alone, but because thought she would bring their child !f her . ^Vherc is Jacob "f " he asked. *Je bed I s'pose." replied Zia. ^,«o, 'c not come "orae." * »ot ome ? Where 'e go to ? " she asked *4ly ,, « not know." -My God, that little fellar out this late ?by 'imselfl" Zia turned and rushed ^•gh the door, quickly followed by Pak i*en began a mad search for the missing SJj night long, and the whole of the fj^hng days, the father and mother •t for their lost son. No one had seen no one could give them any news of !?* whole of Pennyficlds showered sym- 9f on the grief-stricken mother. Pak insignificant to trouble about. k*5* days at a time the father searched te*h> little Jacob without ever returning to ^•aundry. until at last the police, finding ?Jyu»g unconscious on the pavement. K^d hirn to the htnpital. was twenty-eight years of ae.«; . he 7*d nearer fifty when he was discharged Jthe hns pit al Creeping slowly along, his * alone seemed to live as they again the search for his little comrade, bis 5**»rds evening his feet carried him bark J** laundry, where Zia greeted him with- al*nthn«i a «m T he loss of her son had £"*v morose and bitterly reckless. Now P*nt openlv abroad with Lung HL and g »ttade no comment Listlessly he re- gj* tor a few hours a day to his ir : n but most often he wandered the streets, looking, looking, always looking for a tiny form with a mop of silky Mack curls. Most of all he haunted Duke s Wharf, for this had been the little chap's favourite plaving -ground. Then there came that evening when he found himself lying flat on his stomach, as he remembered having seeing Jacob doing, looking down into the sullen, thick water, trying to conjure up the sights that must have met the baby eyes. " What is it you see, my little son ? Tell your daddie." he coaxed softlv. as though the child was really there. " and your daddie tell you about pretty garden. Sure you go to pretty garden, sure ! You got lucky mark, you go soon to Christ ! " The man's heart came up into his throat, the water ran unheeded from his mouth over his parched hps on to his chest, his breathing came in sibilant whispers, there was madness in his eyes, the whole of bis flesh crept, for there gazing up at him from the muddy water was his little son's face. With a hoarse cry. his arms shot out ; perhaps he fell into the canal, he did not know what happened until he found him- self seated on the bank holding the corpse of his Jacob. In spile Of the state of the tiny form. Pak clung to it. raining kisses on the cold face, carefully drying away the water with a portion of his own clothing. " The lucky mark, the lucky mark," he was muttering, when his fingers became entangled in a cord, an orange cord, that was wound tightly round the baby neck After that, Pak became very still Towards the small hours of the morning he laid the lifeless form in a corner, covering it gently with lus coat, as he crooned words of promise to return very soon. When he had found the box for which he went in search he kept his promise to hit, sun. Removing his own shirt, he wrapped it round the corpse; with amasingly steady fingers he removed the tell-tale orange cord. He kissed his little Jacob for the last time, before putting him into the candle box which he had purloined from a near-by yard, filling the box with flowers he had climbed a balcony to steal from their f ait lien ware pots. Jacob loved flowers; he must not go to God without them — Pak saw to thai The dawn was breaking as be finished burying the box in a corner of the yard at tin back of the laundry. Then 1 uvping out into the narrow street, he slunk away. "3

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine Towards noon fatigus overcame him Entering a public square, he sat down on a seat and slept, but even though he slr-pt his hand never relaxed its grip on that orange cord. When he awakened, he felt no pain of grief in his heart, only a grim hate, a determination to avenge the death of his treasure That accomplished, he would join his Jacob, kindly death would aid him. Three days later he returned to the laundry. The laundry was singularly quiet, for it was the Chinese New Year, and therefore a holiday. Pak seated himself at the back of the dark shop and waited. Towards midnight Lung Hi came in accompanied by Zia. As Lung Hi struck a match and lighted a candle. Pak noticed that Zia's usually pale cheeks were scarlet, her eyes seemed abnor- ally large, they blazed with excitement, and on her breast hung a wonderful orna- ment of fine green jade, suspended there by a bright orange cord. Pak burst out laughing, it was the first rime he had laughed for years. Perhaps his power of laughter had grown rusty with long disuse ; that may have been why Zia cried aloud in fright, and why even the usually imperturbable Lung Hi started alarmedly. " Pak I " Zia's voice rose in a shrill scream. " Yes. Pak." laughed the owner of that name. " Why yon laugh ? what the mat*! You find Jacob ? " A Wend at fear *! excitement sour.ded in Zia's vr>ic»-. - J " Yes. Me. 1 f,.,d tin- irti,, t . ir.,'*3 one would have thought Pak had a joke in his heart. " I lau~h. mv bessa Zia. because one time I tell that Utile Jaaj we go to a garden and e make a necklfl of yallar flowers for you. 'is mummie, *J1 one for 'im. and now von i;,,t your necklace, and Jacob 'e 'ave "is Now Le*l Hi must 'ave is necklace." I With incredible swiftness, .-.u-.l l*\ strength of a maniac. IJak threw the form of the fat Lung Hi. ai fearful of what might happen, was hng clumsily with the fastenings of ■ laundry door, which he had onlv ja* * moment ago securely locked. Lung Hi had a large, fat neck. hands were not very big. Without ibe> of the strong orange cord he could «*! have strangled Lung Hi. It may have been true that thrown herself on her husband iu» to tear him from his victim, as she to* fm*5 i'ak did not kno haarc Well, that fitted in with his programo** would soon see his little Jacob. Pak smiled dreamily as he heard * grate in the lock of his cell ; he wo whether the " lucky mark " would s\ on his son's temple when he met hin» The next Uuo of contain fine new .tone. A. E. W. Muon Frank Swiaaertoa "S«pp»- Kethlyn Rhode. W. L CUor,. Wm. L. Story E P. Ben.on C N. end A. M. Williamson Mey Sinclair Alio. Perria Sfc, Aumonicr Ruby M. Ayr* 94

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SEARCHING FOR WILLIAM By MABEL BARNES-GRUNDY ^ ulnar of "Hilary on Her Own," "Canjyla'l PWonice." "Her Mad Mania." — / mean -A. •!.* dock .IrAe.. thm MtVktc* will " I •-? at least nothing of the [fittest importance. r >J it'sridiculousof us." she thought. v^1 l'm not going to give in." and she tjrPped herself up to take uvsh umbrage •r** next word. whatever it might be. ^What a couple of idiots we are I " ^***n Chevening (old himself, his nke- ^P*f lace finite red with temper. " but she was distinctly rude to me." He re- peated this to himself twice over to make absolutely sure she had been. She. with an assumed air of nonchalance, waved a big white feather fan in front of her flushed face; he expelled rings of smoke from his lips, and negligent ly crossed one well-pumped foot and leg over the other. Strains of music were borne to them from the distant ball-room " I repeat." aaid he presently. " ray proposition, that there are far more Marys in the world than there are Williams." " Repetition of a statement does not convert that statement into a fact, md, again, I entirely disagree with you " " And a repetition of such disagreement leaves me e nally unconvinced that yoo are right and I am wrong." said Captain William Chevening. hitting out somewhat viciously at an innocent palm leaf which. 95

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine through no fault of its own. was tickling the top of his well-brushed head. She tapped a pretty sat in -shod foot ou the tessellated floor of the conservatory and suppressed a smile at his boyish anger. . . . She thought he looked quite as nice when he was cross as when he was pleased, the pucker on his forehead was most attrac- tive ; but she didn't tell him so. " Some years back in our fathers' and grandfathers' times there might have been as many Williams as Marys, bat not now. William is almost as extinct as the dodo, while Mary has stuck." " I have known." said she, " and do know twenty Williams. Can you produce the same number of Marys ? " Certainly I can. and a jolly sight more." He fished out a pencil and an old envelope from his pockets and began to scribble. " I'll write down every d — ahem — blessed Mary I've ever met " " But how shall 1 know you are not inventing them ? " she demanded a little aggravatingly. " Oh, of course if I'm a liar " He jumped up with such force that his chair toppled back among the palms, and she had much ado to restrain her laughter. Don't be stupid. Bill. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." She laid a soothing hand on his irate arm. " Please forgive me." For an instant he stood with all hb heckles erect, then, gradually they re- taxed, and. after a cautious survey of the conservatory, he stooped a little shame- facedly and kissed her. " Don't you think we are rather asses tq quarrel about such a trifle, darling ? " He picked up the chair and placed it close to hers. " I'm sure of it " " It's all that damned — excuse me. Mary, but it is damned Daily Mail. That wretched rag is responsible for more trouble " " Not on this occasion," she interrupted. " For the first time in my We 1 feel really grateful to it. But for that 'A to Z' article written by, I forget whom, and inserted by the Daily Mail. I don't believe I should be alive now to tell the tale. Insomnia was playing havoc with me — reaction. I suppose, after all the hideous welter I had been in over there ; a white little bed in a peaceful room was too much for me I " " Don't, dearest," he whispered. " don't let's thuik of those unspeakable days. 1 try only to dwell on my extraordinary luck to be here at all. with life bcfoi and you. . . ." His big hand closed ben as though he meant never to of it. " And do you mean to tell nft, said presently, " that this name bussW has really helped you to sleep ? " She nodded. " Never failed. I blcsSjT writer of the ' A to Z ' article every ajj of my life. I feel wide awake when *j to bed, and as though I should be awake for the remainder of my life, *? begin on — say— Alfred. As a mattefj fact 1 know very few Alfreds, for which * grateful. I dislike the name, so I s* leave him and jump, perhaps, to the J " " Jolin. I suppose, or Jane ? ' K " Both, but chiefly John. John proved almost as fruitful as William. 3 generally sound asleep before 1 m 5 through him. I know heaps of J3"* Johnnies, and Jacks. I go back to J childish days in the country, and old J* the fisherman jumps to my mind, or Joh*2 the swearing blacksmith. Last night a* John joined the old ones — young Ueutet* Judson — I heard his sister, when I «M the Baxters', call him : Jackydcar. quite excited, and before I could myself I said aloud : ' That makes leen ' ; and everybody stared at me. of course I couldn't explain." Bill chuckled. " Then Percy is rather a good D You wouldn't think it. but I know tw* and eight Archies, and seven Herb** and eleven Dorothys, and seven* Annies ; but, of course, no name anywhere near William. It's just a» mon as dirt— oh, I'm sorry, dear, I fc- " Don't apologise. I don't mind Besides. I stilt stick to it : it is a umq- aristocratic name compared with and I'll prove it. Now. I'll have with you. If you can prove you more Williams than I know Marys, 1 give you a pearl necklace. What aO think of that ? " " A very pleasing offtr." . " And if I can prove I know more 3* than you know Williams, you mu»» • roe —let me see. a motor car." «. " Why not a yacht while you're *" it?" " No use for one. But if you »*■ I'd try and make a handsome p*°"* selling it to Upton." " My balance at the bank i» £* l" " Then it would have to be a hand For.l ." Mary smded.

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I*' I love pearls." she said. " they will look with tnv new black tulle frock." 'k "And I rather enjov tinkering with a ■«." Thoy laughed hke a couple of children. F Now to business," he said ; "we Mustn't waste time, the hour is late. H&ain conditions must be laid down and ■CUy carried out before we concede that bet has been won by one or the other." And conditions ? " We will give ourselves a week slowly, nly. and exhaustively to conjure up r memories every single Mary and _m we have ever known ; and if ig the week we should come across and t*t fresh Marys and Williams, so much ■the good, but we must solemnly swear to kb from deliberately asking our friends g introduce us to their Marys and Williams. «at would not be fair. This day week P"— he drew out his watch and examined fc-" at twelve o'clock the bet will be up. Je shall be at my Aunt Jane Willoughby « •ice. shan't we ? " Marv nodded W And as the clock strikes, the necklace be yours or the motor car mine." \" I ;,. ,.! the • KtBwigB, ' Mid M iry. 1 Right oh." Bill got up. "Shall we one more dance, darling ? It s rather f*k« old world, isn't it ? And behind her he once again kissed her. II J>uring the week that followed, many of ***y Oakovcr's friends were of the definite 2*oion she had temporarily gone off her pl— the result, thev feared, of the two ■ years of strain in France, in conjunc- 1 7* 'with the jov of hawiiK her liar... "*fnajn Chcvcning safely home, and the ^J»»i:ience of their marriage. , JVy shook their heads sadly They had l*»ys pre.1i, ted this or somethuig equally J*«Wful Beneath the <:alm of Mary s /*«ner. which was only too obviously as- 2»ed to those who knew her. but which |g* Cheated the authorit 2jt highly ««-it»W«. 2*he and sin 1, was a tempera- , always ready to d boil over on the . . . And now she I to put it mildly. V pitied her. and ,s, though the said _ to allow their only stkk »t " so long : and above all r Pitied Dill Chevening. lovely and sweet charming though Mary undoubtedly iftjJtctt provo— so to speak. |K^»led over." 1 ft?* pitied her pax R»ots had been lo Mabel Barnes-Grundy Her old friends the Buckmasters were most affected by what they called her sudden strange and inexplicable behaviour Helen, the eldest girl and Mary a special friend, was reallv distressed. They met at a bridge tournament a few days after the bet had been made, a tournament organised by a Lady Rowther in aid of St. Dunstan's hostel, and run on the lines of the old-fashioned whist drive where a hand is played at each table and the winning couple moves eit her up or down. Mary played bridge well. Her father, a fine player himself, had insisted upon her learning' young. A girl must be useful besides ornamental, he opined . and when an attack of gout or some other unfortunate contingent prevented him from going to his club for his usual game she would prove useful at home to make up a four, bhe was a dashing and at the same tune a cautious and reliable player, and won a good deal more than she lost. But to-day . . One choleric old gentleman nearly threw his cards at her on her letting him down five tricks doubled by their opponents, and redoubled by herself. When she entered the large room and saw the vast array of tables (play was to be for three hours with an extra half-hour lor tea) she commented to Helen with delight on the size of the tournament " What a splendid lot of tables, she whispered with a suppressed air of excite- ment." and what a lovely lot of men I I am glad." Helen stared at hex Mary, though most attractive to the opposite sex. had never been very keen on men — said they were always too full of themselves ; old men were too prosy and held forth, young men appeared to regard themselves as the per- petual hope of the daughters and despair of the mothers, and all of them went baki " 1 hope we shall play very quickly and I shall meet heaps of different ones. I wonder if any of them are called Wil— — I mean." she stammered, catching sight of Helen's amazed face. " are- are good V'U' I Txpect so." said Helen a little coldly, while suddenly feeluig sorry for Bill. # " I like men. you know, who play well, said Mary a trifle vacuously. " Naturally." returned Helen, but Mary did not seem to hear her. With eagerness she was examining all the male competitor*, in the room, and Helen wished she wouldn I Several were returning her gaze with in- ter est and unconcealed pleasure, for alie w-s looking unusually lovely «,th her 07 i

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine flushed cheeks and eyes dark with excite- ment. The two girls started al the same table Mary's partner was a stoutish elderly man with a weather-beaten look, an Admiral Bcntly, and Helena a young artillery officer. Mary won the cut. She started on with a " two no trumps." Her partner, who had been informed by Lady Rowthcr he had drawn one of the finest lady players In the room, felt his heart give a little pleasurable thump mingled with admira- tion for her dash and beauty ; but his own hand containing seven diamonds to the queen ten, and 1 he rest rubbish, he took her out into three of his suit. Promptly she took him back into " three no trumps," was doubled on the left, and when he firmlv announced " five diamonds." he nearly had a stroke when 'she proclaimed calmly : " four no trumps " and was again doubled. Had he been on his late ship the paint around would undoubtedly have blistered when she went down four tricks and he dis- covered she'd had but one diamond in her own hand, and the ace at that ,- but he controlled Ids temper, and on her repeating absent-mindedly — she seemed wholly en- gaged in watching the initialing of her score by the young captain — that she'd held four aces, be merely called her atten- tion to the fact that four aces could by no possible means or chicanery yield more than four tricks, and she must agree with him, which she promptly did whilst leaning across the table and entreating the young captain to tell her for what his initials F. W. stood as she was intensely interested in names. And when he replied : " I-rank Wilmot." she merely sighed with a little air of disappointment whilst utterly ignor- ing the amazed looks of Helen Indeed." as Helen said afterwards when relating the story to her sisters Stella and Elizabeth. " she entirely ignored roe for the rest of the afternoon. I never met her again, but was often near enough to see her extraordinary play, which was so rapid you could scarcely follow the cards, and hear what she said to both her p.irtnors and opponents. Always was she on the same tack, her interest in Christian names, and always with the same charming and disarming smile. So one could resist her She looked so lovely too. I'm sure hall the men in the room — her opponents were in love with her. especially as she presented, through her careless and rapid play, two out of every three of them with hundreds above the line, while the other half, her partners, regarded her as siinp crazy. " Once her voice came ringing across M room to me : ' Your name is \\ lilia* really ? How interesting" t I always tfaiajj it one of the finest and manliest of natD*; since — since William the Conqueror landsfjj and took possession of our dear "sl*0^, don't you ? ' And the man who owned d*u name of William seemed simply astonished to speak " " I don't wonder. She must be ro«sL Stella, who spoke, was the most ur»l(- * ^ of the Buckmaster sisters, a nice l''*il girl who always aired her clothes separate*' on diflcrent chairs when she went to bed _ " Go on." said Elizabeth. " Tell *" some more " " At tea I heard her say to a young n1** who was sitting by her and drinking her every word with his own innocuous 1'J'j narm beverage : ' so you are really c*?!' liill ? I — / know a man named Could you imagine anything more b**J and from our clever Mary ? She owjj have been announcing the extraordio**? coincidence of their nomenclature be"1 Ctsar I " " And what did he say ? " " Oh. he just giggled and went pink- was very young, newly demobilise " you could see regarded every as an angel straight from heaven " Of course it stands for William inquired next, and when he repli was but a nickname, and bis real i Harold, she suddenly quite changed. sort of cold and indincrcnt. edged ** j, from him. and I actually heard her sif * '( a queer far away look in her eyes — *~*jL- believe she knew she was speaking shed no us© for Harolds, and she go * ami left him." SteUa and Elizabeth gasped. V can it mean ? " 0g " Of course, an aunt of hers w"3trS^-» her head." ruminated Helen " ' ** think General Oakover rather e"*0*^ Look at the tempers he fli<* into' tt* other day he flung a toast rack on ibg floor because there was no honey °» yA table I often think violent t«nP<* another name for a form of madness. ^. " But poor dear Mary has been most brilliant." observed Elizal*^ . cCt- " I know." agreed Helen. - but sn« piy tainly not brilliant now. She * queer, absent-minded and rcstle** ^ o never sits still, always wears tn* tottf being in search of something °* body " 98

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A 4-Minute Lesson in Personal Efficiency * Help Yob Discover the Biggest Ambition of Your Life and How to Achieve it Quickly By Edward Earle Purinton The Famous Efficiency Expert SCKNTLY I talked draws the highest 1 asked him how he had succeeded, ftswercd quietly, with the man who salary in the world. ftka-.e not succeeded. '*aj man ever suc- There is always goal ahead." Plough this man b,°Uinin every rival, jSM not reached the ? °' his own satis- W — any more than 5 |b«ve Hut he is **t. He began by Bet something so ^ it the whole 5"coui.ln t stop him TH-it. V ft t Do YOU Want? ould juu like re than any- ■*Ue ? Look back Bl How would •jfe* to live that ^ all over again ? *ould have known *hai you know lo- j,*0* much time, money, faith, you could have **ve believed for L i*?*** tliat *lBd of course would save **»y years of «"u*ine>a liouar* and 111- lUtBllrnn have alrcail)' ordered Sir. Ptiriuton • works /or their friends, patron*, clients, or em i-.'-.l Ul A FEW OF THE MILLION AND WHAT THEY SAY WfeVtl DEWEY. IWd.nl of Th. Willi ml - ! hare never yet picked op thla wnrk for fire minutes without vetting direct practical vnloe (rora acme new thought or aome unusual or more telling presentation of an old one. These stimu- m pages bristle with epigram* and spsrllc He texts of a thousand aermona. No man Hi* we*fc without gelling idea* and him to improve the he :U of a thousand aerr .- that Hp ■ IKA J. STEINER. Ed«,i.oo.l Din-*,,. •' Mr. fBrintoB haa rendered a great service to the present cause by bringing oul this wonderful Coarse la IVtscmsl Uti.lnKf, which is the firs* It is much belter to learn and profit by the mistakes and false moves of others than to waste valuable days and years waiting for experience. Don't rely on the hope of doing better "next time." With the proper know- ledge you will save mistakes. awe mrJrJ ti TRUMAN A. DE YVEESE. of lha Whaat Conrpaav. •>.. 1 "If 1 ware rich I would distribute about a milium c.ptea of Mr. Turlutou ■ KrTi. irocy Work among the million* who t think n«sd is. a. and wisdom and advice it rrailala* 3HNRM^TTEaSON. I began to mark passage* in youi writing* which t wished especially to remember 1 found after 1 hsd completed my reading that 1 had p.-artleaUy mai ked up the fkwwi work " It has been my privi- lege to act as teacher and counsellor to thousands of ambitious men and women — from the bead* of large com- panies to the most humble beginner in the ranks. And 1 have concluded that the average man engaged in a large en- tcrpr.se who has not ye I applied efficiency methods to his work has been losing from £200 to. ,£20,000 a year —while the professional or industrial worker has probably been losing from £20 to £1,000 a year. For twenty years I have been studying at close range the exact reasons for these people's failure to ge. ahead. And into my new Practical Course in Personal Efficiency I have put, in compact lorro, the results of this study of indivi- duals and business con 137

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13R The Seven Lessons Give you ihe Essence of Efficient Living and Business Achievement. They teach you in a few pleasant evenings of study How to Measure Your Efficiency. How to Get Ahead. How to Keep Well. How to Improve Your Finances. How to Organise Your Work. How to be Efficient at Home. How to Plan Your Life. By showing you in my lessons what other men and women —just like yourself — have learned and done and been, I believe sincerely that I can save you about ten years of costly experiment, and, moreover, can show you how- to use your strength, energy, and special abilities in a way which will certainly bring you success. Efficiency is nothing less than the difference between wealth and poverty, fame and ob- scurity, power and weakness, health and disease, growth and death, hope and despair. The step from one of these extremes to the other is a short and easy one— if you KNOW HOW. Take one of my pupils whom I shall call Mr. X, because if I over met an "unknown quantity" he was one when he first came to me. He has increased by about 500 per cent, his daily output of work, his optimism and will power, his health reserve, and his financial resources. How did he do it ? First, he analysed himself. Have yon ever done this— thoroughly ? If not, try doing so now. I can tell you I never saw such a change in a man For the first time he knew what he wanted to do, what he wanted to be, what he wanted to have in life." Then he went boldly at the attainment of his ambition. He studied his possibilities — physical, mental, and spiritual. He learned that his ambitions lay within reach of his natural gifts. Finding that he was out of gear in certain ways-he set out to repair his faulty machinery lie made the most of his job. He learned to save two hours a day. He talked with men in higher positions. He studied and tried every conceivable way of improving his work. He was always planning his lint of txdvemc*. Every open ADVErtTfSUMI'.N TS ing higher up found him prepared to fl ably. He changed his habits of living and it his daily output of energy about 200 per Be stopped being a pessimist and grot and became the most cheerful man W whole organisation. Having grown friendly, he attracted a host of new 'r*0'j He prospered. He advanced. He b-*»* a leader. He developed courage. But remember this : Mr. X was 00* exceptional man by any means. He.' lust average to begin with. When 1 first L him he was making £3 a week. To-d-ifjgl is probably without a rival in his chosen — and his name is kno%n throughout business world. You *can do the sart* better. EnwARn Eaki.k Puki.vtO* ONLY THIRTY SHILLINGS Examine It Free The most amazing thing about Mr. 53 ton's Practical Course in Personal EnV*~l in seven lessons is the low price at wb,c\4i is now possible to secure it. So confident the publishers that the tremendous v^ZjU the course will be apparent to you a* as you have examined it, that they wiB the entire seven lessons post free fo* ydl consideration. Wfehout paving a P«,*L««I may see for yourself how twentv-one J**£*rl •>tudy on the part of the author bas. • oncentrated into the shortest possibj* / 1 pression of the most necessnrv princip^ efficiency. I Then when you decide to keep in* send only yu. in full payment. f°t. #t .mail sum you become owner of a *°f ft* has been worth hundreds of pounds to "JH and may well prove to be the means 9 ^ creasing your health and your pleasure*-^ adding to your income every year 1*1 life. Post the coupon now, before tbP offer is withdrawn. FREE EXAMINATION COVf°t ( To the N.t.on.lB (Poriatoa Dept. 1) ft) THE STANDARD ART BOOK CO- 60. Chancery Lane. W.C« t^A Vou may send me pott paid the «*BP,*M«n Practical Course in Personal Efficiency » ' j lesst-ns for free examination. Within lbr!L*i r\ will either return the Cowse to you °* m foil payment. ., 4d*m - - J ■» I4»M>» airs niHicn.

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noticed that," said Stella— "a *** of expectant eager look in her eyes ',*'5*a she meets people, especially men." ... And she goes rushing about from place 0 place, house to house, to luncheons, teas, —nners. balls, suppers. She makes me think * midge spinning in the evening air, or l'X**ltzing mouse with its cage on fire " ***Jen broke off abruptly as Marv herself P*l«nly opened the door. ^/You have been talking about me." She at the threshold of the room whiUi 6* scanned each guilty face. They said nothing. . And — if I did not know you loved me *hould surmise you were saying nasty **JJ*8S about me." Never 1 " they cried together. Alary sat down in .1 big chair and sur- V'ed them with quizzical eyes; a bright '2?°' colour burnt on each cheek and she ?°«d wonderfullv pretty in spite of of fatigue beneath her eye*. Wh.it waa it ? You've known me all 2 ' lovw you. Helen — you're one of •2** d«c«ntcst things I know, and I'm quite jJ*JJ» of you. Stella and Elizabeth." laugh- •w*!y "he blew them all a ki«s, — "so out Jt. 1 can l«ar it." ^fcji— ye la""nK »bo«* your — your u "^Wness of the last few days," said ■Jr*8- taking the bull bv the horns. " Von Tfrr 3" stdl ' •• short. " sai l Mary Vou mean before your wedding ? " ..No. time generally." ^ And you've been so excitable, almost sa«d Stella .. Really ? " said Mary. Bill ■^°t' we've been feeling rather sorry for vj* stammered Elizabeth. •i 'aid Mary. " why ? " *l sudden extraordinary interest in »2E m°o." blurted out Helen. " You ^'yvtly rush at them. Marv " ">,'es." said Helen, with some heat other d*v ** tho bridge tourna- 1 irjf"1 1 °"*y l*y«g to meet Wil B|T*a. I mean— oh, I can't explain. . . «jr"*»udde:.lv the fell into laughter at the WlT**311* °n th*ir *•*•»■ "he laughed not only did she weep? but tM J*n*pla«ued of severe internal pain -red them to help her. And the •%e% 17° ' loRhed. the more convinced were Hd T25J^er serious derangement. It was K \T, ? Uy **d- Wlth wedding day so 1, but u had to be faced and mu*l help her all thev could Of Mabel Barnes-Grundy course it was the result of the last two years' terrible experience . . . but there wore good doctors, fine brain specialists, hypnotists whose aid . . . Mary with a tremendous effort pulled herself together and sat up straight whilst she wiped her eyes. " You must trust me, girls," she said. I'm quite sane, though I may not appear to be. I believe you are going to the Willoughbys' dance to-morrow night ? " They nodded. " Well, at twelve o'clock, just as Cinder- ella reverted to her drab little life and her place by the fire. I shall revert to ray usual well-behaved manner, and no longer be — what was it ?— restless, excitable, hectic, and keen upon any man but Bill Mean- while, I want your help. That's what I came for. I'm at a loose end. I've no engagement for to-day. and I want one. Can any of you help me, take me anywhere with vou ? ' Stella and Elizabeth shook their heads " I'm going to a bazaar, of all ante- diluvian, God-forsaken entertainments." ■•ltd Helm " The one at the Empress rooms in which your aunt is Interested ? " *' Right, and it is to be enlivened with all sorts of up-to-date side shows: Ja// teas, a concert by Ruhlehen prisoners, and the usual old-fashioned fortune telling, rallies >" " The very thing I " Ecstatically Mary leapt to her feet and clapped her hands It's absolutely providential— raffling /'// raffle What shall I wear ? 1 know your aunt will let me raffle all her best sofa cushions and objet* d'arf. I must fly home to luncheon and to dress. Thank you so much for letting me go with yon. Helen darling. I'll be there on the stroke of three. Ta-ta, dears I " and she was gone like a lightning whirlwind before the •sister* could draw breath. HI If Helen had been amazed and somewhat distressed at Mary's behaviour at the bridge tournament, it caused her real anguish at the bazaar ; and a thousand times she wished she had never broucht her. For hours she watched her flitting about the rooms, a radiant figure in daflodil yellow, hrr eyes sparkling, her whole face alight with excitement as she raked in innumerable half-crowns, ten-shilling and one -pound note* Or her raffles ; and she 09

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine was filled with shame when she noted that it was always the men who were her quarry. That Mary, the well-bred, refined, and almost puritan Mary, should so behave ! She was not common. Helen told herself, when once again, unknown to Mary, who was too absorbed in her task to observe her, Helen remained close at hand to listen to her remarks to a fresh victim. She was not vulgar, not cheap. She was not even coquettish. But in her bearing towards the men there was an eagerness, a delight it securing their patronage so noticeable that the least vain among them must have been secretly nattered. " Two tickets ? Thank you so much. It i» a lovely cushion, isn't it r " (As a matter of fact it was a Cubist monstrosity.) " And your name and address, please, in case you should be gone when the raffle takes place. No. not your initials, your full name, please, so that there shall be' no mistake. Aubrey ". Disappointment clearly descemible in the pretty voice. Or, occasionally, a sudden note of delight, of triumph, a look of gratitude flashed up into the fishy eyes of some podgy elderly man who was obviously much more interested in the attractive creature confronting him than in the cushion she carried. . . . " Why this occasional pleasure and excitement ? " Helen asked herself re- peatedly. ■' What did it mean ? " Then, in a flash, illumination came. It was the name of William. The joyousuess and triumph appeared when some male creature answered to the name of William. Helen gasped at the realisation of this. Could it be possible ? Mary was so much in love that, like a small child who adores the repetition of a story that pleases it, she was made happy by merely meeting a man of the same name as her 'fiance. •' It's mania." said Helen to herself. " A bad form of mania. I must get her home. Poor, poor Mary." She advanced with rapid steps to the girl, who was now smiling into the eyes of a bemused, bewitched young naval lieutenant as though he were "the loveliest thing on earth ; and taking ber gently but firmly by the arm whispered that she must come home. " Come home ? '" " Yes. at once " • Hut why i " Hecause 1 say it." Helen might have Iteen addressing a naughty child. " I shan't," said Mary. " You won't r '* " No. I'm having a lovely time and I shall remain till the bazaar closes. VodT aunt says I'm the best raffler here And. isn't it jolly, Helen ? " she lowered bet voice. " this young lieutenant is William " Helen fled. IV The hands of the Willoughbys* Sivres clock on the mantelshelf of drawing room which had been cleared 'lancing pointed to 11.30. The dance was in full swing. Dozens 1 couples performed queer antics with the" legs ami arms, sometimes together, sorB*"' times opposite, sometimes at each other** side, or round the corner, or at opposit* ends of the room, or back to back, wkic* they called dancing- Bill was performing with Helen. Stdl* with Bill's cousin Harry, the only son ** the house. Mary was nowhere to be seen, and just because she was not there tb* room to Bill seemed a dull and lonely pla^ "How topping Marv looks lo'-nigW] Never saw her look better." He voi£*d his conviction aloud. " Yes," agreed Helen. " She reminds me of Spring Then, after the manner of the pt Briton, be blushed at liis own enthus " Mary has not seemed herself the few days, though she appears better night." said Helen a little nervously- " Oh 1 " Bill's voice contained " In what way ? " " Haven't you noticed it ? " " Well, to tell you the truth, I have*."* seen much of her. I — I've been bu*T- He changed the subject, and Helen did pursue it ; b»t she wondered . . • scented a mystery. ... ^ Mary, as a matter of fact, had cut dance with a very boring and pomP^ man with a monocle who remark*" " Rear — ly ! " in a tired voice to the rno** ordinary observation, and she was b»°E away in a recess in the library w-itb \£ small daughter of the house, aged ten, graciously accepted her a! a relation-*0^, for xJ»e sake of her " dear, darling cnu»» Bill " who never treated her as a little g» or " talked down to her." , 1 " You don't mind sitting out with inquired the child. "You see. M""^ will never think of looking for me here make me go to bed, and she'll forge* after a bit. She's a bad memory " Mary smiled and assured her she enjoying hersell immensely 52 . She wasi**j**|| a little tired, but very triumphant. Sbe 100

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•Morally certain she had won the bet rorty-tw Williams stood to her credit. Jjfis a wonderful record, she felt, and JJ'tjculously she bad observed the condi- rjm> of the bet. Not once had she ashed 7?be introduced to a William. All her *enty-two new Williams she had achieved •v fair and honest means. She glowed with «?,,et pride, and fell to picturing Bill's face *wn she handed to him her ncatlv tabu- Bgq list of the forty-two. . . . was aroused from her reverie by the d slipping a paper into her hand with request she should read it out aloud. » found it in the gentlemen's cloak-room t1?. *he floor, I was hiding from Mummy. « ■ _*o funny — all about Marys, and in ~°?^»n Bill's writing. I can mostly read jj'^og now, but his is so bad. far worse ^f,n mine. Do read it, Cousin Mary." . Cousin Bill's writing ! " Mary's eyes *v ,urcd the paper closely covered with ""JJ* almost illegible scrawl: r 2 4. Mary Jones — greengrocer in Co vent ^ffan. Bought some topping apples. ^. 25- Mary Twig — old newspaper woman ™n Evening Stars and whiskers. r Mary Philby — little girl with nose . 'l uring attention, who fell down in '""urn Road and howled. Picked her 2^*°d gave her a bob when 1 discovered **» a Mary. j» 2~ Maters new maid. Mary Brett. ■*u}}y 8h"l. Had five minutes pow-wow her. Mater jumped on me. fiointed u democratic age. and all of us equal. *Jer said ' fiddlesticks '. ' Rude of Mater |1 nr> argument." WJ^y now and again a ripple of laughter ., from Mary as she read. »o*6 — Saw the Queen going to open I^*thir.g or other, or to slum. Looked jjrte nice in a new-shaped hat and without • ujnbrella On an impulse 1 yelled : jjj**** °'d Queen Mary." and she actually and called out : * thank you.' UT0"* decent of hex. Wonder if my Mary £ % Peaking terms with George I ' ^ ***y stopped. Suddenly it came to her p^*** not honest to be reading another JE?* private document. A wave of iT** »wept her from bead to foot. Megan " she said. " you must take thu ^*at once to where you found it. It is ^P-fri"1 ^ r'*d anotber P*"00'" private t^J?*'- but not this. Cousin Bill wouldn't and It's so funny, and— let me see." 4«. 4 i— there are only six more. Mabel Barnes-Grundy " Forty-two ! " W ith a shout Alary was >.» her feet, examined the watch bracelet at her wrist and rushed to the ball-room as fast as her legs would carry her. leaving a most astonished lit tie girl behind her. " Forty-two ! Forty-two ! How extra- ordinary ! All my work in vain and only- ten minutes left." she said to herself over and over again. " It's too. too bad. Oh. where are the men ? Are they all dancing - Is there not a William anywhere at large ? " In her anguish she almost wrung her hands as she leant with her back to the wall, her eyes now searching the kaleidoscopic scene before her, and then the clock on the mantelshelf, while her cheeks flushed and paled as the minutes passed and the blood drummed in her ears. A charming figure she presented in her gown of exquisite jade green, her golden head pushed a little forward in her tense excitement, her hands clasped before her ; and Bill, who was now performing a duty dance with a friend of the Hue km asters, and who. unknown to Mary, was devouring her with eyes of low and admiration, had much ado to restrain himself from abandoning his partner and finishing the dance with Mary. Then — and in the maze of whirling, moving figures Bill had been swallowed up — a miracle occurred, as miracles do occur in spite of what all the practical, level- headed, stodgy people may say to the contrary, and a little shiver of exultation and delight ran up and down Mary's spine, for across the room a man's voice pro- claimed in accents of pleasure: " Why. there's Willie I He's come after all ! " And so he had. He had arrived in time to save her. She knew it. She knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise to-morrow. He stood in the doorway, a fine, hand- some, upstanding figure of a man, and as Mary looked at him be looked at her She always emphatically denies that she gave him what Bill coarsely describes as " the glad eve," and we believe her j bat the fact remains the stranger immediately crossed the room to where she stood, bowed low before her. and craved the honour of a dance •• With pleasure." said she with a daxrhng smile. " but first will you wnte your nam* on my progiamme. W ill you be so kind f I like to know the name of the person with whom I am dancing." She spoke rapidly with her eyes on the clock " Mine is Mary Oakover. . . Not vour initials, please, your full Christian name—and. oh. 10 i

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine be quick — we" ve only half a minute. Hurry, hurry I I — I'll explain afterwards. . . ." She laughed a little hysterically. She was leaning over him watching his slowly mov- ing pencil. *" Ah 1 It is William. Thank heavens I And just in time I The clock striking. . . . Thank you so much W being — what you arc. I am more thafl grateful to you. And here's Bill ! Bill with her hand on the astonished Strang*** J arm. " allow mo to introduce to you forty-third— William." A Partnership Memory By ALICE HEGAN RICE Jlulhor of " Mtu Witt* of the CaUagt 'Patch " an intermittent THFRF.was but one bond of sym- patby that could exist between the two men. yet neither seemed willing to be the first to allude to the subject uppermost in the mind of each. They had been playing chess in the Captain's state- room the better pan of a long, dull afternoon Through the open door the sea stretched, grey and passive, and the decks were wet with drizzle of rain. It was Richards who first opened the way to mutual confidences : " Do you remember the last tune we played chess in this room. Captain ? " be asked, replacing the pawns in the box with fastidious precision. " On your last crossing I suppose," said the Captain casually. " ten, or was it eleven, years ago 5 " " Eleven years in June. ' A white nicht full of stars ' and the coast lights of China just glimmering on the horizon. A certain fair lady's last night on board and too and I playing for the privilege of sharing it with her* *' Oh 1 You mean Nina Starling ? " The Captain looked up quizzically. " I ought to remember ; I won " " Yea. you won." admitted Richards. " That sounds very much like a sigh of regret. In the light of recent lurid eve*1* it ought to be a sigh of exultation." " Recent events might not have occurr*" had I had that ln«t inning." . The Captain laid a heaw. bronzed h*"£ on his shoulder. " My dear fellow. U *^ the Fates weYe kind to a you that night. Yon and had met for vour mutual was shoved in for a buffer. I deny that I was as bard hit as vou « only I was used to H. Id been before " " Not by Mrs Starling!" " No, not by Nina Starling." For some moments the two ss smoking, the Captain a bluff, hi man of forty-five, his companta years his junior, slender, austere, the uniform of a Major in the States Army The ashes of an u-ere*. bet > 7 Jon * el*- hi* t old •nit** mance, thus stirred, evidently re wd 8M

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*°»ne live embers, by the light of which ^jjfii travelling back through the years, j^he Captain was the first to recover r*j»*eH : " The dinerence between us was gjj* you went into it blindfolded, and I J^t in with my eyes open. I'd known :>ir.a e\ l«vid you know Starhng ? " Never saw him. He only lived a ?*ple of years after they were married. *° 'act I never saw Nina again until she *!ls on her way back to Honolulu with her boy, on "the very trip of which you *Pj»k." 7 .^Poor little Bobby 1 You know his ■fc. Oh, yes, the papers were full of it. ' ,Ra had about as much business with a *™ as Cleopatra." ., >'et she adored the boy." aft "e waa her one permanent SJ"- The rest of us were transients. 2£* entertained us royally when we came. E* promptly forgot us when we departed. ■JL*'*5 pretty rum that in the end she tr*M have been Bob's undoing. But 2° 8*»e was everybody's undoing that ^carae in contact with." %^>n the contrary," Richards said, " we jjfe her undoing. We asked too much of 2_- We demanded the impossible, and ^toied to give HI" . '"e Captain sliook his head. " She is Sk of thc M**'".'' he contended, goes after what she wants, and if cannot rea. •!z tak'^s W>ablv . Ri. h it by a straight course. crooked one. You would f call it finesse." rds considered his slender, well- hands gravely. " I think f should »e instinct of acquiescence. She is re of sudden fire, with a passionate > do the thing required of her for on -he loves, regardless of circura- Ijfc confuses and baffles her. I « is politic, and perhaps not always "Onward, but her motive is never fest ; she is always trying to get »g for somebody else. You must hat she is the most exquisitely 1 person you ever knew." .„ I II admit anything good vou want Vg, about her ! The Lord knows she Ho^,., d to me When *hr came back to "da to live after her second marriage. S?Mni 1 RllC- Oh. Alice Hegan Rice aha used to slip down to the dock when- ever I made the port. I can see her now, as smart as a little white yacht under full sail, pretending to be interested in the arriving passengers, when all the time she was wirelessing me on the bridge to hurry up, that her motor was waiting, and that I was to take lunch with her. By George ! that girl coukl say more with her eyes and one finger than most women can say with their tongues." " Were you ever in her home ? " " Many a time. They had a wonderful place down below Waikiki — white beach, blue sea. and palms — you know, the kind of thing Honolulu specialises in. Well, she would treat mc like a Grand Mogul. Nothing too good for me. She remem- bered the things I liked to eat, and the land of cigars I liked to smoke. She gave me a taste of what a real home can be, and when my lime was up. she'd run mc down to the dock herself and give mc a God- speed that would keep me warmed up for days to come. I tell you. a man has to live at sea half his life to know what a thing like that menus." " But the Baron ? " asked Richards . " From what I have heard of the gentle- man, he was not one to give his wife free rein." " Oh, von Stemman liked men to admire Nina. Jt gave him the satisfaction of knowing that he possessed what others wanted. And Nina never teased him. She'd lie to him. to be sure, and get him out of the way at times, but that was only to bring about more comfortable results. She wanted him to be happy too. That was her religion ; she wanted everybody to be happy." " I suppose I was the exception that proved the rule." said Richards grimly. ' The only cruel thing I ever knew her to do was to keep me dangling between heaven and hell from San Francisco to Hong-Kong, and then to marry the Baron as soon as she pot to Germany." " Well, van Stemman happened to be nn the spot when she landed Yon see, you and I had made it rather an exciting voyage for her ladyship. When we dropped out life became too dull. She could not bear to be out of a job." " 1 did not drop nut." Richards pro- tested. " If I hadn't been under orders to report in the I'hilippii-.rs. the devil him- self couldn't have stopped me. That was what 1 wanted to tell her that last night on board ; as it was. 1 lost my chance. I had to catch a steamer early the 103

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine morning for Manila, our letters miscarried, and she married the Baron." There was a long pause, while Richards lit a fresh cigarette and the Captain idly Angered the chessmen. It was not a pause of finality, however ; it was but a halt on the brink of the subject during which each looked back on the past through his own particular vista. " Did she seem to care about von Stern- man ? " Richards brought out at last. " Well, it's hard to say. She made up to him. nattered him, spoiled him, and fooled hint whenever it pleased her to. Of course she was inordinately proud of his position and his brains. He was a brilliant man, but hard as tacks. She spent a good part of her time explaining away his rude- nesses." " Yes." said Richards, with the absent eyes and slightly pursed lips. " I can see her in the rdle. She had a gift for inter- preting her friends to the world. She accorded herself the privilege of making the translation not too literal, and the result was always more charming than the original." " In this case it couldn't have been worse. The Baron, with all his good looks and grand air, was a boor. I think Nina secretly feared him." " Feared him ? " Richards looked up sharply. " Yes, at heart I think she always feared him. He had all a German's ideas about women, and if he had ever caught her in one of her escapades it would have gone hard with her. In fact I think that was just what did happen in the end." " What happened." said Richards bit- t'-rly, " was that he made her the tool for his dirty work. What the poor girl baa suffered' during these past few years is something I don't like to think of. " Nor I." agreed the Captain. " I did all 1 could for her. When war was de- clared in 1914 she was all in a flutter to get back to the States. She offeted a dozen excuses ; von Stcmman was ill with malaria and had to get away from the Islands . she wanted to see her people. Bob wanted to enter a military school, etc. There wasn't an extra stateroom on board, but I turned out of my cabin for them. I let that big scoundrel of a German have my bed. all because Nina asked me to. And ten days after he landed in San Francisco, he forged a passport and got away to Europe." " Yes," said Richards. " it was not tang after that that I saw Mrs Starling- sfce will always be ' Mrs. Starling ' to me. VY» met in- a New York hotel, in an elevator- It was the first time I'd seen her since w« left this steamer seven years before, yet you would have thought we had not been parted twenty-four hours. She took n**" right into her confidence and poured ob* all her troubles." " About the Baron r " " No. about Bob. It seems he he»d sj| his heart on going to West Point. 1 ie ha» worked for years toward that end. H** appointment was all but secured when the Baron's departure became known, and tb» whole affair was trembling in the balance Bob was beside himself with rage and dis* appointment, and Mrs. Starling had bee* moving heaven and earth to get him k* heart's desire. I went op to their apart* ment and thrashed out the whole matte* with them. Bob was a stunning chaP- built for the army, every inch of him "e was too loyal to his mother to expf*5^ himself openly concerning the Baron. b«J I never saw more concentrated bat*** than he showed in his face every time h** name was mentioned. I remember he paced the floor, declaring that it was" 1 fair for his life to be smashed like tb** that if he failed to get the appointment *j would be a blot on his character he 00 ' never live down. And Mrs. Starling, as a sheet, kept saying. ' You are going j~ get it. Bob. I got you into this and I **j going to get you out of it. The Major *°° I will arrange some way.' " " And Major did ? " the Captain tare* in sarcastically. . " No. she did it herself, though of co«*f I pulled a few wires in the War Dep31; ment, and introduced her to Senator Gt*JJ upon whose decision the whole n****? hmged. It was a difficult thing to arraitf*; for he refused point-blank to give » f* sonal interview, as he was leaving t°"*^ in a couple of hoars." M "I'll wager Nina got the interview- ^ " Well, as a matter of fact, she did- ' talked with her for an hour, then asked » to lunch with him. When I called »*. apartment in the afternoon. Bob toW Senator Gray had thought it best for * to go down to Washington with bu» clinch the matter." " So that was how Bob got his >wn ! " " The Captain leaned" back i» chair and smiled. " There is nobody her. She's so frail and yielding •0o*n'" to,

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You say she has a Wind man would feel ■W changed much ? " ' Well, I suppose she has." Richards ad- {"rtted : " her figure perhaps more than °*r colouring." "'Naturally. A clever woman finds it J*51-1 to camouflage her complexion than ^camouflage her figure." ^She can't change the colour of her *>"}»." said Richards coolly. ' Those ridiculously blue eyes 1 " The ~aptain laughed " I used to get an 'Mric shock every time I looked into "e,n. Alter all. 1 think that is Nina's «uef charm, she is so terrifically aware of you — that is. when she isn't aware of some She just wanted Bob to have what '^wanted If be had set his heart on J??** burglar, she would have helped him 'l just the same. What did the officers ;'!> to think of Bob ? " HhU There was but one thing to think. I »o1h >OU' *So*' StarlinB was everything a J£j He evidently lost no l2* in potting Nina to work as soon as he Berlin." * 'niagine the scoundrel was using her Alice Hegan Rice from the first. The letters dated from 1015. but it was not until after we went into the war that things began to leak out. You code or anything ave passed with- \11 Mrs. Starling to the German >ld friend of von she know that 4% ace. the letters were not in of that kind ; they would 1 out suspicion anywhere, did was to forward them Ambassador, who was an Stcmman's. How could they contained secret information ? " ' She probably didn't," agreed the Cap- tain, but it must have struck her as strange that her husband should ask her to send his private letters to her. containing nothing whatever of an official nature, to the German Embassy at Washington." Richards' face flushed : "I did not rea- lise that 1 was discussing Mrs. Starling with one of her enemies. I took it for granted that you shared my belief in her innocence." " Nina innocent '. Why. I can as soon think of Methuselah being young 1 My dear man. you do her an injustice." "The Court evidently shared my opinion." said Richards. No stones were left unturned by the Prosecuting Attorney to convict her of conspiracy. Everything was against her — the fact that we had just gone into the war ; that public opinion was flaming against any evidence of pro- Germanism ; that she did not deny having forwarded the letters. Yet she was com- pletely exonerated." " Do you wonder ? " asked Captain Sherry. '" I knew it was all up with the jury when I saw she was going to conduct her own case. 1 The beautiful Baroness von Sternman. a loyal American citizen, made the tool of her unset upulous German husband 1 ' I can see the headlines now. r ve got a copy of one of the papers around here somewhere. It had a picture of Nina pleading her cause, and the judge and jury in tears. I kept it because it was a rather good likeness of her. IVrhaps I can find it." He opened a desk drawer and. after some fumbling, took out a newspaper clipping carefully protected between cardboards The two men looked at the picture for some moments in silence. :tnd one of them smiled with bis eyes, and one of them smiled with his hps. The Captain was the first to speak : " Perfect stage setting." he said. " Be- lasco could not have done better. And a situation worthy of Nina's genius. Can't you see her now, taking in the whole bunch right t down to the case-hardened reporters?" " And you alone refuse her even the IO5

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- no Hutchinson's Story Magazine benefit of a doubt ! " exclaimed Richards hotly. " I should think the (act that she brought divorce proceedings against von Sternman the moment she discovered the truth would be sufficient guarantee of her innocenco." Captain Sherry's eyes twinkled : " A superb co ip ds gr ic* ! Nothing could have climaxed the situation so dramatically and so convincingly. It satisfied everybody, apparently, but Uncle Sam. Unfortu- nately he is less susceptible to feminine charms than other men. Even though he let her off. he decided that he did not want an officer in his army whose step-father was on the Kaiser's staff, and whose mother had been tried for a German spy. I un- derstand that everything possible was done at West Point to let Bob down easy, but you can't pitch a man out of a window without breaking something." " In this case it was the boy's heart." said Richards. " It happened in May. you see. and he was to have been graduated in June. You would have needed to know him in recent years to understand just what it meant to him. An honour man for three consecutive years, and patriotic to his finger tips. 1 don't blame him for doing what he did. I'd have done it in his place." " A rotten business," sighed the Cap- tain. " I have forgotten the details. It was Nina who found him, wasn't it ? " " Yes. She got back to West Point the night it happened, went to his room and found him still in his uniform with a bullet through his heart, and beside him a small American flag on which was written ' For my country.' " They sat silent, each closeted in his own reflections. Then Richards said : " Such a tragedy would have crushed » ., woman of coarser fibre, but Mis Starling bent to it like a flower in a hurricane. Sh« felt the beauty of his death, and the per- fection of bis sacrifice, just as she felt voO Sternman 's position and what he did fC . his country. Her letter to me at th° time was one of the noblest things I evof i read. She did not blame anybody. Ther* ■ was no bitterness nor rebellion nor re* . crimination, only the most exquisite un- derstanding and acquiescence. She has * wonderful soul, a " Then realising how warmly he w»* ' speaking, he rose abruptly and pusbrfj back his chair : " After all. it's a subject upon which vo* i and I could never agree. We have been foolish to discuss it." " Not at all." said the Captain ; " «* have passed a very pleasant afternoon. &f - J the way. I suppose of course you kno* j that she has married again." Richards stopped abruptly in the doc*" j way. " Mrs. Starling, married ? " he re- J peated dully. " Yea, I saw it in a German paper «• i Hong-Kong last month. Slxe managed «> j get over to Berlin by way of Sout* America, shipped as a stewardess on * German boat, and re-entered the ranks »' the German nobility/' " Yon don't mean that she has marr»e» j another baron ? " asked Richards, agha**- Captain Sherry's bluff laugh rang ocj* heartily. " Oh, Lord, no!" he said. " »** i the same one I '* A grrat exclu«t'v» {•<»■»». in the Ammi number of HUTCHINSON'S STORY MAGAZINE E»ery one know* of Mr. Herbert Je-ikW gt Ml creation in fiction, * Kindle " Thla pop -Ur Author U now engaged in writing a eerie* of merry "dinJL" (torie* for '" Hulchin»on • Story Magazine." It u hoped lb x» the fir.t ,torr mar be f.nUhed in time for it to appear iu nut month's 106

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THE NIGGER PEARL CHARLES GARVICE 'I!.! MRS. ARMYTAGn was famous for three things— her late husband's immense wraith (he was the in- "*-t ^i0f the wondrous " «tep-laddcr. iron- ie»M ^"dst-ad combination "). her jq*. and her hospitality: the plump. V], "!^atu'^l soul was never happier than *itv aer noose in Loauuhire was crammed *l>i-KCi>ntc"tet"rn lhe iate ,nv,,ntor"s pride! i* ' Thc GranKe- but. I regret to say. .He \5 known am""-^ her friends as Hhch?eilagrr,e' by reason of the curious Igr^ns of humanity to be met there. • *kuJrm>l*Ke 8aul 11131 *''c liked to have fct Ifc Un* P»pl» about her ; and she cUr.. . because there is quite a large kho^T of P^P1* "i 'he world nowadays ifc*»OB y caD«l interesting. There are h^Cfc* do ^ 'om oi marvellous propound startUng theories, wear ■P" clothea. start quaint religions, dls- * Kc* country, and in many other ^?m* DOt°rk>u«' Some rail them Mrs. Axm>-tage. whose brain was cicar «• her heart was waim. would have been considerably intrigued in her management of The Menagerie and her guests, had it not been for a certain dis- covery of her own— that is. of her secretary. Miriam Grey. She had found Miss Grey in a hotel in one of the foreign watering-places which Mrs Armytagc frequented ; the girl had be- come suddenly an orphan, and, like many another orphan, had been left penniless by her father, one of those charming parents who demonstrate their complete confidence in Providence by leaving their children en- tirely to its care. It was the sort of case to appeal to Mrs. Armytage, who. when Miriam Grey declined to accept charity, promptly suggested that the girl should come to her as her secretary The arrange- ment proved eminently satisfactory j and Miss Grey soon got The Menagerie in hand and ran it with a tact and skill which astonished her employer — and Miss Grey managed the vs as if my magic ; the servant CUM which. l.yr ravsterions reasons" best known to itself, regards secretaries and Z07

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine. governesses with ill-veiled contempt — not only liked, but actually obeyed, her. More- over, the guests " took to " and confided in her ; for she was well posted up in their respective claims to fame. She could talk to the poet about his little book of verse which was a matter of confidence between him and his publishers ; the inventor of a wonderful gun which an incredulous War Office refused to believe was capable of destroying an immense army by one shot, fonnd in her a sympathetic though momentarily horrified listener ; while to the soul-stirring revelations of the explorer she lent an ever-ready and prettv ear. Children and dogs adored her ; so did the young men guests, who displayed great in- genuity in contriving excuses for approach- ing her : she was a very pretty girl, with dark hair, beautiful grey eyes, and a smile which hail won more hearts than Mrs \rmyt age's. Notwithstanding her [xipularity. Miss 1\ tu that pretty white dress of vouts." ' Miriam laughed and held out her hands for the letters. " Nothing particular this morning, my dear ; most of 'em begging letters as usual. Oh, yes : I am forgetting : there is one. Its from Reggie Davenant." Miriam had been glancing at the fetters, and she looked up quickly and as quick!', down again, a faint colour rising to her (» J very well with his father and his broth*"! — you see. he's so wild, and has given tb«* ] such a lot of trouble." " I understand." murmured MUs Grc?1 I ht-r eyes still fixed on the letter. " You always do. my dvi» little pat. " He's a naughty boy ; but. * I say. I am very fond of him ; everybody j is, and I should like him to come dovrO' but we are quite full up, aren't we ? lb* man who killed four lions with a waUofl stick ought to have gone : but be hasntjS " There is the little room next to mU* j said Miss Grey reluctantly- , \ " Oh, but my dear. I couldn't think 9 letting him have that 1 He'd be :.r. nuisance to you, sitting up half the nt(F J smoking ; and he's always singing * ] whistling. No ; I won't have you a tiny nush. " it's too late for consider^ tion ; he is on his wav down now- * says that he will come if you don't t*f must not." M " Dear, dear ! • .•.n] Mrs. Arm 5 " how like him I What is it be dor.c " Get his room ready." said Mist " I will see Mrs. Hudv.'n, the houseke at once." "I really think you are tl>e s^eet^ mostunselfisb 1 Gh.there's Mr. T***10 i in the garden. I promised to hear his poem : and 1 bad forgotten all about it When she had bustled out, Miriam sank Into her chair, her hands clasped ' her, her shapely head bent. Shesatthu* a minute or two. then, with a *est,)r*tii# resignation, she went in search 0\jgfi housekeeper. Just before lunch she voire*, outside her open window. Vtmytage's and the new visitor's. s,n*J^. •entiy thot* two person* entered the \2S or* 5: I., 3

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"Here's Reggie — Mr. Daves ant — my uear. I've just been warning him that he's to keep as quiet as a mouse and not be * nuisance to you." She turned as she *P°ke to set the curtain straight, and therefore did not sec the expression of •tupefied amazement and fleeting joy which upon the good-looking countenance of ^c gentleman, who opened his mouth to 'xclahn. but shut it again in obedience to a •jMJht movement of the hand made by Miss , How — how do you do. Miss *e got out Grey ? " got out with difficulty. '■' I have l*arricaded by several of the freaks, who appeared to be all talking at once to her. I Vrforce he had to turn to his hostess, who. Mazing in rare and costly gems of various colours, was seated hi an arm-chair and. like a keeper, surveying her collection of curious animals with bland complacency. " I sav, got "em all on to-night, auntie 1 " he said, running his eves over her plump 109

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine and scintillating figure with a kind of impudence which, goodness knows why, no woman ever seemed to resent. Mrs. Army- tage, who liked him to call her " auntie." though they were in no way related, patted him on the arm and laughed as she replied, " Oh, not all, my dear. I think it's very bad taste to wear loo much jewellery. It makes one conspicuous." " The Court is with you," he said gravely. " The few things you've got on to-night - just show 'em what you could do if you bleed. Is there anything new, anything I haven't seen ? " " I'm sure I don't know, my dear," she said, looking down upon her begemmed bosom and arms. " No, I don't think so. Oh, yes, I fancy this black pearl is new since you were down last." She touched with her fat finger a perfect aud matchless pearl which hung as a pendant to a thin chain. " I call it my nigger pearl. A nice one, isn't it ? " " Stunning I " he responded. " Far and away the best 1 have seen, George 1 It glows like a— like a hot coal. Where did you pick that up ? It must be worth quite a pot of money ; sort of ' king's ransom ' they used to talk about." " Yes ; it did cost a great deal, my dear," she admitted with a sigh of satisfaction. " I got it at that Maharajah's sale — I never can pronounce the man's name. It is sup- posed to be unique." " Shouldn't wonder." said Reggie. " By the way, isn't that rather a flimsy chain you've got it on ? Looks to me as If the slightest thing would break it If that pearl were mine, I should have it fixed to a ship's cable — until I'd pawned it." Do you know I was saying to MeMiain, my maid, only this morning that this chain was scarcely sale. I'll get a thicker one. ltwould bca pity to lose the pearl, "she said. " Rather," responded Reggie absently, for nt that moment the human barrier in front of Miss Grey had thinned somewhat, and he sprang up and hurried towards the breach ; but beforo he could reach her, a little boy. the child of a political Polfeh lady who had been banished from her native country, probably for that country's good, ran across the room and Hung him- self at Miss Grey, who immediately lifted him to her lap and appeared to be so absorbed in fondling him that she had no attention tobcatowon Mr Reggie Davenant " Look here." he said at hut In a low ami aggrieved voice, " the kid's had his innings. I've listened to his innocent prattle ; I've let him crease my shirt- front; I've answered one hun> to regard me as a Utile beast with long curl* and a blue velvet frock with rnother-of* pearl buttons." " What do you want ? " asked Miriam, still engrossed with the child. " If I were to tell you all I wanted," W said slowly and solemnly. " it would tak* about two days and a half. No. it wouldn't I1 It would take about one minute. — All right all right. I'll behave I '* be declared hastily, in deprecation of the drawing together of her brows, which he recognised as a danger- signal. " But I want to tell you something, something important. I've got a letter to- night At tins inauspicious moment a gentleman "who bad invented an ingefli* ously smoked glass for viewing eclipse* waddled towards them and was greeted wit* MM Grey's usual smile of tolerance, if no* encouragement. " Oh. da— dash— it all ! " groaned Reggie. " Look here. I'll be on the terrace at half- past ten to-morrow — don't won't come. How do yon know I h. invented a way of getting to the moon. 1 shot a double-headed elephant ? Yon to be a freak in this infern— blessed to receive decent attention." " Good evening," bleated the in\ of quaint astronomical instruments. I ask if you take any interest in solar ; mena, Mr. Davenant ? " " No." said Reggie bluntly. " I it once and I didn't like it." " Ah," said the confused gentlem**- " Pity, pity I — But I know Miss Grey doe*. and I should like to show her " Reggie walked oil. with a frown on generally smooth forehead, and rage in usually blithesome heart The next morning at the appointed no°f he was on the terrace outside Mines**' window : and after he had paced up down half a dozen times, she appeared b** a vision of youth and beauty and, better womanly charm — so exquisite a vision th*1 Reggie was able only to stand and gaxe e* her speechlessly for a full minute. pace up *»* • " I can't work while vou down like a wild beast " " What else can you do In a he demanded. " And let me you hadn't shown up. you woi me roaring and clawing at th " I can give you five minutes, ♦dancing at her wrist-watch. no

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Little Signs That Reveal Character at a Glance The Simple Knack of Knowing All About a Person at Sight EVERY one knows that a high forehead indicates the intellectual type, that p~ a receding deno:es weakness, while a '•h»tf! Uh.ce far. about this time that I read an Ml Dr. Blackford, one of the (ore- 'acteranalysts, who was employed company at a record fee to select "*»jfee». I thought then that if business men paid such a salary order to insure their getting the of workers, there surely must \x in character reading for me. my eye was attracted to an lit announcement of a lecture on Character Analysis by Dr. Blackford, and I decided to go and see if I could learn anything. That lecture was an eye opener I Not only did Dr. Blackford show how easy it is to read at a glance the little signs that reveal a person's character, but after the lecture she gave a remarkable demonstration of character reading that amazed the audience. She asked the audience to select two people in the hall to come up and be analysed. Several men, all of them entirely unknown to her, were suggested, and finally two were chosen. As they came upon the platform Dr. Blackford looked them over keenly, and, after a moment's thought, began to analyse both of them at once. As she mentioned the characteristics of one, she described the corresponding characteristics in the other. Beginning with generalities, she told the audience, every one of whom seemed to know both men, that one was sociable, active, bold and determined, while the other was more or less of a recluse, very self-con- tained, quiet and gentle. The first, she said, was brilliant, clever, quick-witted, and resourceful ; the second, a silent man, slow and deliberate when he spoke, and relied upon calm, mature judg- ment rather than brilliant strokes of ingenuity and wit. The first man, according to Dr. Blackford, was active, restless, always on the go, im- patient, and able to express himself only in some resolute, aggressive manner. The second man was studious, plodding, and con- stant, and expressed himself after prolonged concentration and careful thought. The first man, the doctor said, was therefore especially equipped to execute plans, to carry to success any course of action, but was not particu- larly qualified to make plans or to map out a course of action —he could make practical use of many different kinds of knowledge, but did not have the patience or the power of concentration to search oat and classify tlws knowledge so that it could be used. While he was a brilliant speaker, a resource- ful and effective debater, he lacked the power

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112 All V KK 1 I SI : M KNTS to dig out and assemble the material for orations and debates. The second man, she continued, being shy and self-conscious, could not speak in public, but was a master of study and research, and strong in his ability to classify and correlate all kinds of knowledge. "The first gentleman," said Dr. Blackford, " would be a remarkable success as a lawyer, especially in court practice. The second would also be a remarkable success as a lawyer, but his particular field would be the preparation of cases and the giving of advice to clients. Therefore," she went on, " they would be particularly fitted to work together as partners, not only because they comple- ment each other professionally, but because their dispositions are such that they would naturally admire and respect each other." As she said this the audience broke into a storm of applause, and upon inquiry I learned that the two men were indeed lawyers and partners, that they had been partners for twenty years, and were well known for their intense affection for each other, and for the fact that during their twenty years' partner- ship they had never had a disagreement. One was the brilliant court lawyer, the other the student and adviser, and as a team they were remarkably successful. When the lecture was over, it didn't take me long to get up to the platform and in- quire as to how I could learn more about character reading, and I found that Dr. Ulackford liad just completed a popular Course tliat explained the whole thing and which wouid be sent on approval, without charge, for examination. I immediately wrote the publishers, and received the Course by return jkjsi. And when it came I was never so amazed in my life— for here was the whole secret in seven fascinating lessons. No hard study, no tiresome drudgery, just interesting pictures and simple directions that 1 couldn't go wrong on. Why the very first lesson gave me hints c°uld right away, and it was only a matter of a few weeks before I was able at one quick but careful survey to tell just what a man was like by what he looked like And what a revelation it wu i yOT hrst time 1 really knew people whnm I tknvktl had known for year? It so simple now that it hardly seemed yv»—-. that I could have made such mistakes**' did before I heard of Dr. Blackford. People took on a new interest. Ins«* of just "ciphers," each one became a dc tin'" personality, with qualities, tastes, and iri'B which I was always able to " spot." WW" the very act of meeting people became most fascinating pastime in the world, how much more clearly my own ch loomed up to me. I know as never befc"" my limitation? and my capabilities. But it has been in contact with r business that my new faculty lias hcli most — to say that it has been worth hi of pounds to me is to put it mildly, enabled me to select a new partner " proved the best help a man ever _ has made it possible for us to build; probably the most efficient " frictionWLj organization in our line of business, every man in the right job — it has been *JJ means of my securing thousands of pound* worth of business from men 1 had ne»* been able to deal with because I had"1 judged them correctly, for after all, basin** relations depend more on knowing the m*9 you're dealing with than any one thing and what I've learned from Dr. Blackfo**: lessons enables me to know as much ab*J a man the first time I meet him as his friend — sometimes more. Is it any wonder that many of the gre»5» lladtfl*" enterprises have solicited Dr. ; advice ; or that thousands of hL . corporations, salesmen, engineers, physic'*"* bankers, and educators have studied ^ Course, and say tliat the benefit derived * worth thousands of pounds to them ? Send No Money The biggest surprise about 1 >r. Blackfo^L Course you haven't read yet— and that «*J5 price. If, after examining the seven le«*£ in your own home, you decide to keep {J Course, you need only send 30/- in ?j payment. If you are not entirely ^T^c whh the Course, send it back within «**^ days and you will owe nothing. Merely send a postcard 01 letter enclosing any money— and the Course be sent to you post free. You take no risk, and you have eveflr**J to gain, so write at once, before lh«* raarkable offer is withdraw? 00K National Business and Personal ^^Incy 'iBuliord'. Dept- THE STANDARD ART BOOK CO., Ltd. 60. CHANCEKY LANE, W.C.2 1

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I 'l rather have five minutes from Here, don't go ! " She had turned ^ards the room. " Meg pardon ! O Lord, t you see I can't help it ? " Nearly one minute gone," observed in a businesslike way. >. Righto I Let's sit down on this seat. *m worn out. In a nutshell. I've just had ".chance offered me of joining this expcdi- n°n to Nairobi. Read about it ? Of **urse you have I Is there anything you *>n-t know ? Its a good thing. There's ""oney in it." And art- you going ? I'm glad, very she *aid, just a trifle too fervently. /"Oh, are you ? " he said, eyeing her jwornilj . •' Well. I'm sorry to abate your "disports of joy at the prospect of getting of me, but there's a bttle obstacle. I've *°t to find a thousand pounds. It's like r*6 °f those stories with a ' catch ' in it, ^>'t it ? My only way of getting that r°*ossal sum of money is by committing JJ^glary or highway robbery ; and. by I'm almost ready for either plan. for something tells me that this expedition loing to turn out a winner ; and if it uld and I'm in it. I should be in a posi- "There was no need for him to finish the ■Jtitcnce. The colour rose faintly to *'«m'i face, she averted her eyes ; but, ■^rtlcd. she turned them again at a new "°te in his voice, and saw that his face had 2**denly become haggard with the terrible of a man's passion. . Oh. my dear, you force me to make * lolce of it." he s'atd hoarsely ; " but if knew, if you Annr, how much I love ^u. how badly I want you ! Miriam, ^|1 me that if I can join this Nairobi thing prove myself — well, not worthy of but just worthy to kiss those little of yours, you'd — you d give yourself >«•. and I'll get that thousand pounds if had to commit murder." I^^llush ! " she said, and her voice Pjjabled. " That's one reason why I ^"•tn't say it. No. no I " m. «»t her heart clamoured ' ' Yes. ye* ' PM Reggie would have won this wonderful gjj there and then, if the Polish kid had j^tappearrd at that moment and ran at at once engrossing Miriam's at tent n m 2^* *o saving— or spoiling — the situation. tk!*n^e'y enouph. though one would have ^»gbt iu intelligent chdd would have aware that he had not made a favour- impression, little Paulo displayed a liking for the unsatisfied and irritated and Reggie, who at ordinary tim«— Charles Garvice waa fond ol children, was compelled to reciprocate the infant's advances. Indeed, so fascinated was Paulo on this occasion that he deserted Miss Grey and insisted upon his new friend accompanying him to view the tomb of a kitten at whose obsequies the infant had assisted in the early morning. All things come to him who waits, and after dinner that evening Reggie managed to lure Miriam into one of the ante-rooms. He looked as if he were suffering from sup- pressed excitement ; his face was pale, his eyes, bright at most times, were unduly brilliant, and unconsciously he gripped her arm as he whispered, " Miriam. I think I see a way to getting that thousand. It will be unpleasant, it will be dangerous, but I'll try it. Too much depends — hold on ! I'm not going to talk to you again as I did this morning — too much may depend on my getting it, for me to hesitate at the means. Oh, dash my hat." he groaned. " here comes that woman who says we ought to rat the >hcll with the egg. — No. Mrs. Boggle*, I always leave the shell. Seems to me as if it would look greedy to eat the whole caloose. And if the egg-shells, why not the egg-cup ? What > " And so. with a despairing glance at Miriam, he made his escape. Miriam sat up in her bedroom quite late that night, her harrfallingover her shoulders, her hands clasped in her lap. She was not asking herself whether she loved Reggie Davenant or not, because she knew the answer. Indeed, she loved \iim very dearly : but she was not blind to the fact that be was not perfect : she wouldn't have loved 1 1 1 hi if he had been. She knew that there were weaknesses in that charming character ; but she told herself, as moat women do, that she could help to get rid of thetn Yes, he needed her ; and a woman loves to think that she is necessary to the well-being of the men to whom she has given her heart. And. oh I she had given the whole of it to Reggie : there was not ■ In lie scrap left in her bosom, in which there would be a lamentable windy, unless she tilled it with that lieatt of hi". She spent a sleepless night. In the morning, at breakfast time. Rrggie announced, with a cheerfulness highly creditable to him. that he bad promised to go for a drive with Mrs Army- tag e, who was anxious that he should confirm her decision to purchase a large property in the neighbourhood . and he was still smiling as they were starting, until he managed to catch Miriam's cvr when the smile was replaced by a lo< k i I "3

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine such entreaty and longing that her hand trembled as she arranged the light rug over her patron's knees. Sx>n after the carriage had gone, the maid who attended on Reggie's bedroom met Miriam on the terrace. " Oh. Miss Grey." shesaid, " I wanted to speak to you about Mr. Oavenant's room." " What is the matter. Mary ? " asked Miriam with a smile. Has he been breaking up the furniture ? He has been very quiet. ' " Oh. no. mits." replied Marv promptly, and with a rather shocked air. for. like most of her sex. she had given her heart, in a strictly proper sense in her case, be it understood, to that ingratiating young man, who. she declared in the servants' hall, was a per feck gentleman and as hand- some as any man had a right to be. " Oh, no, indeed, miss ; but he will drop his cigar and cigarette ash all over the place ; and I thought if yon would be so good as to let me have an ash tray — not one of the usual small ones, but something as he couldn't help seeing Oh, thank you, mis*." she added as she turned away, "and would you mind locking his door as you come out ? Master Paulo is always running in and out, trying to find Mr. Davcnant — so fond he is of him. And no wonder, he's got such a taking way with him." " Yes; he has. Mary." said Miss Grey meekly ' She found a silver bowl in her room and carried it in to Mr. Davenant's. She was there only a moment, so to speak, but when she came out her face was deathly white, and as she turned the key in the door, she clung to the handle, as if she had been overtaken by a sudden weakness. She had scarcely reached her own room, when to her surprise, she saw Mrs. Artnytage's pony phaeton driving up to the terrace. " Oh. my dear I " cried that lady. " we have had to come back. 1' ve remembered that Is to say. I've forgotten, something. I won't be a minute. Reggie." " Can't I get it. whatever it is ? " asked Miriam, in a dulled voice. "m^?' no' 1 won,t trouble you. dear." replied Mrs. Armytage. and she hurried into the house. ...k^!™'0'" ?*?d R*S*ie in * »°w voice. 'lth.,I.i8 * "I**1*1 merty I w»nt to tell vou Before she could reply, they were b0» startled bv shrill cries of ' Miriam 1- Miriam ! " " That is Mrs. Armytage ! What fcf happened ? " murmured Miriam. " One moment," he pleaded. " No. no." she said agitatedly, wants me — I must go." She hurried into the house. Mrs. .. tage was standing on the top of the staircase, bcr face red. her hands chit the bannister rail. " Oh. Miriam, come up at once ! cried agitatedly. Miriam ran up the stairs and fol Mrs. Armytage into her dressing-room- " My dear, something has happened, said the old lady. " I've had a 6crio* loss. There now ! I'm frightening y°* How stupid of me ! Don't look so nc*r*i my child ; it's not a death, but — but— 4S nigger, my black pearl." Miss Gr*J usually so calm and self-possessed, behind her for a chair and dropped " " It s all right, my dear. There. for goodness sake 1 You'll ui if you break down." " The pearl ? " said Miriam. _ her drv lips- " Are you sure ? " " Q"»te sure, my dear." replied J*Jjj Armytage. with a portentous nod. I took it out of the jewel-case this lnornia^ intending to pack it up and send it* London to get a stronger chain — Kegfj* advised me to do so. I left it on the taW* here." she placed her fat hand on the tab*- " and forgot it." " The safe " suggested Miriam. » l'of* face bad lost something of its recent pal**: " My dear, of course. I've looked f A»d in my bag. everywhere ; though I »** perfectly sure and certain and could sv it in a Court of Justice that I left the tbiJ* 1 just here." " What— what is to be done ? ask* Miriam. She spoke quite steadily no*: and her ey«. though they had a preoccup*? expression in them, met Mrs Armytag** 1 unwaveringly. . " Thai s what I'm asking myself- 9 course, I don't want to lose my pearl — J"? J know what a beauty and how valuable* 1 «« — bat I should hate to call m the P0'1^ and make a newspaper ailau of it. So*"* person— ahem I Reggie is alwava we** that I feel sure nmr«i J.w,ant»otcllvou person -ahem! Reggie i, alwav., tea*" money I shan ™ ' CM **** about *'hat »* "Y ***** end tg Pro mL me thn Zh^VZJLVZ ioUy °' malan* fri™de with people 1 k»£ good KJe vnu wiU rtvl « to "y nothin* about- »»" because they re inter** actually white I " yielded to a sudden temptation *TZ there, again, none of the visitors ever co&*~

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The Secret of being a Convincing Talker H How I learned It In one evening By GEORGE RAYMOND the news about It AVE you heard Frank Jordan ? " ^ This question quickly brought iU^ t*5e ''l,'e 1PoaV which had gathered ij* centre of the office. Jordan and I had with the Great Eastern Machinery ' within a month of each other, four ago. A year ago Jordan was taken accountants' department, and I was °«t as traveller. Neither of us ww J**"* with an unusual degree of brilliancy, Bfcn»*,e n,adi; good in our new jobs well ' jU6h to keep them. fffpMe my amazement, titen, when 1 Ij^Jordan's just been made secretary of the »ld hardly believe my ears. But as the "Notice to Employees" on ce board, telling about Jordan's good ■jL * ' knew that Jordan was a capable K^J* quiet and unassuming, but I never H&r ™a,re selected him for any such sudden [C^ I knew, too, that the Secretary of the »j Eastern had to be a big man, and I I VT**?oys gave him, how flustered I was and how I couldn't say a word because there were people around ? You remember how confused I used to be every time I met new people? I couldn't say what I wanted to say when 1 wanted to say it; and I determined that if there was any possible chance to learn how to talk, I was going to do it "The first thing 1 did was to buy a number of books on public speaking, but they seemed to be meant for those who wanted to become orators, whereas what 1 wanted to learn was not only how to speak in public, but how to speak to individuals under various conditions in business and social life. " A few weeks later, just as I was about to give up hope of ever learning how to talk interestingly, I read an announcement stating that Dr. Frederick Law had just completed a new course in business talking and public speaking entitled 1 Mastery of Speech.' The course was offered on ap- proval without money in advance, so since I had nothing whatever to lose by examining the lessons, 1 sent for them, and in a few days they arrived. I glanced through the entire eight lessons, reading the headings and a few paragraphs here and there, and in about an hour the whole secret of effective speaking was opened to me "For example, I learned why I had always lacked confidence, why talking had always seemed something to be dreaded, whereas it is really the simplest thing in the world to ' get up and talk ' I learned how to secure complete attention to what I was saying, and bow to make everything I said interesting, forceful, and convincing. I tit

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ADVERTISEMENTS the an of listening, the value of and the power of brevity. Instead Icarnec silence. of being funny at the wrong time, I learned how and when to use humour with telling effect "But perhaps the most wonderful part of the lessons were the actual examples of what things to say and when to say them to meet every condition. I found that there was a knack in making oral reports to my superiors. I found that there was a right way and a wrong way to present complaints, to give estimates, and to issue orders. • " I picked up some wonderful points about how to give my opinions, about how to answer complaints, about how to ask the bank for a loan, about how to ask for extensions. Another thing that struck me forcibly was that, instead of antagonising people when I didn't agree with them, I learned how to bring them round to my way of thinking in the most pleasant sort of way. Then, of course, along with thost lessons there were chapters on speaking before large audiences, how to find material for talking and speaking, how to talk to friends, how to talk to servants, and how to talk to children. "Why, I got the secret the very first evening, and it was only a short time before I was able to apply all of the principles, and found that my words were beginning to have an almost magical effect upon every- Iwdy to whom I spoke. It seemed that I got things done instantly, whereas for- merly, as you know, what I said went 'in one ear and out the other.' I began to acquire an executive ability that surprised me. I smoothed out difficulties like a true diplomat. In my talks with the chief I spoke clearly, simply, convincingly. Then *fl .jJ women who have taken the Course. j^J only 30*. in full payment. You *» risk, and you have everything to g^J?^ write now before this remarkable f>*«**' withdrawn. 35,000 men and women ordered Dr. Law's Course during three months. "And I want to tell you honestly that I National Business and Personal Efficiency (Law's Dept- THE STANDARD ART BOOK CO.. LTD. 60, Chancery Lane. W.C.a I

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to flS ii.um ; I'm not one of those women ""ght send for a private ■ I 1 ,* — * * — J-tective. Yes, thing to leave your rooms and »ck your doors so that the detective 5*y tind every ching just as it was when By crime was committed. And that's *«*t I shall do, my dear." ■f Yes." assented Miriam with a sigh. " And yet " She stopped, her head 25s _one side, as if she were considering. 5*o. I don't think I wilL I shall go for drive, and we'll see if anything happens l'"*- I'm away. Turn the key, dear, but 2fVe 't in tlie lock. You still look very J*** and upset. Now, go and he down IP" bathe your forehead with that lotion Lf*°lesaor Wilkin s discovered. You know F*ays that it never fails to cure the Red n'haqg of their terrible headaches." Miss Giey went down the stairs slowly. Etching the rail now and again, as if she Ij^ed its support. Mrs. Arm yt age fol- J?*'*! her as far as the head of the stairs. she paused, and going to the open TJodow overlooking the terrace, called V^'v and beckoned to Reggie, who was P*Og up and down, impatiently awaiting *Pfriam's return. v ' .Vote what is it ? " he muttered, but Hjobeyod the signal, entered the house by it? nearcst door, and reached the corridor the second staircase. Mrs. Armytage r^ed him by t tie arm with the gesture of a ^"spirator and drew hini tutu 'he room „ " ibbed. " Ob. my dear, how could you 1 You ! You 1 Reggie had half led. half carried Miriam Grey to a sofa, and he turned an angry and fiercely indignant face ou Mrs. Army! age. " What on earth are you saying } " lie demanded. Then he went white and stood for a moment, silent. " Do you mean to charge Miriam — Miss Grey with stealing the beastly thing ) You must be out of vour mind." " I suppose 1 must be." quavered Mrs. Annytage. " But it dropped — she did — drop it. Oh. my dear I how could you 1 And me so loud of you t " Stop that 1 " said RettRie sternly. " The thing is impossible. She could no more steal your blessed jewellery than I could kill a baby In cold blood. Tell her so. Miriam, and let's put an end to this immense." lie turned Id ha : Md *8 met his eyes with a sad. a curious look in hers. The other two waited, hung breath- lesslv on her silence : she broke it at taut. " I took it," she ' *• •' voice. 117

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Hutchinson's Story Magazine "You took 1" be gasped. Then he burst into a harsh laugh. " Oh, conie off it, you two ! " he said derisively. " Is this bit of spoof got up for my benefit ? Is it a sort of charade ? " Ha stopped sud- denly, for thcro was no responsive smile on the face of either woman, and Miriam stood motionless a9 a statue, her face set. impassive. ' Oh. say you found it, my dear I " wailed Mrs. Annytage " Say something — anything 1 " " I took it," repeated Miriam. " There Is nothing more to be said." She looked „ for one instant at Reggie's haggard face. " I will never say anything else j you may do with me whatever you please I I stole it." " That's all right ! " said Reggie, through his clenched teeth " Well let it go at i hat You've got your pearl back, auntie, so you're all serene. I don't suppose you want to make a fuss, but if you do, make it. We don't care. My wife and I are going out to Nairobi " •■ Your wife ! - gasped Mrs Annytage. "Yes." he said. "Miriam knows I love her ; here and now 1 beg her to marry me " " No, no I " Miriam panted. " Never 1 " (- " Yes ; I think you will," be said quietly. Oh. no. I'm not taking advantage of this affair But what I mean to say is, that a girl who is subject to hallucinations of this sort, any sort, wants a strong man to look after her. Up to date, it is you who. very properly, ought to have looked after me ; put that's changed— I was going to say thank goodness ' ! I'm going to marry you. dear, if I have to carry yon to church in ray arms. As to Nairobi. I shall take yon there. Don't you be afraid that I shan't make you happy: I love you too much to fail See ? " Miriam sank on to the sofa, and covering her face with her hands, sobbed softly Ho went to her and put his arm round her and kept it round her. though she strove to push it away. " You're going to Nairobi ? " stammered Mrs. Armytage. Jf^Lf.?0"?" "ftkl cheerfully, though he wan still pale and iug Ups twitched. " I wanted a thousand quid for mv share in the expedition, and I've got it —What's the matter, dearest ? " he asked rentlv soothingly, for Miriam had starnJaK. gazing at him in a startled. Iiorrified fashion I've Just sold my reversion '1 bere'll be a devil . f n row when the governor and kdward hear of it. and I daresay the D|j man will cut me out of his will. N«* mind that. I'm going to make myfortd" — Dearest, dearest, who! is it ? " Miriam had torn herself from him *° was staring at him with amazement— 4 relief now — in her eyes. At this dranwL moment there came the sound of childfl weeping and wading from the corridor, *1 door was kicked violently, and wh.n M** IIS Armytage pulled herself together sumck.-, to open it. Paulo waddled in, his fists to ry-a. his face red aud swollen, and his mo"*! extended by howls of lamentation. " Oh dear I oh dear ! Whut is t he mad* now ? " wailed Mrs. Armytage. as she dr** the child to her. " Boo-hoo » boo-hoo ! " sobbed " I've lost my pretty ickle egg." " He means he's swallowed it." *M Reggie impatiently. " For goodness' 5*JS give him something. anvthinR. and get of him." " I hasn't 'wallowed it." blubber*^ Paulo indignantly. *' I tooked it Misser Weggie's woom, and now 9 gorned. Mawy and me has lookt 1 cvr#Tl where." At this moment Mrs. Armytage happo'jl to open her hand, wlmh all tins timut Miss Miwiam. Did you stole it ? " ~! demanded severely of Miriam as he todd"* off. The three grown-up persons regarded t** infant with feelings which it would be j to attempt to describe. Then sudd"7'' Re«gie looked into Miriam's eyi-s. read **** * whole story there, and as she hid ber j on his breast, he bent aud kissed her h1*5 and murmured broken) v " Oh. my dear ! And you thought I worth it I You were going to sacrifice y00*' self for me 1 Why ? Dearest, you've R*4fl yourself awayt" He laughed— bat brok1''1 ■ again " See ? " - Then, over the bowed head lie t.;.""c:' grave and yet. if it be possible, a m| (ace. to the dumbfoundered Mr* tage. "How would next Thursday *"L you and Miriam. Auntie ? Ju«t a F1'* wedding, with four bridesmaids, a bs^y and a spread for half the cotJuty 1 No»gP and-corner busier ea fox mc j [r W,TJ cfl***

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4BTBRTBWUMM FARROW'S bank limited Cae-tal .tI.P00.090 tmmti 7.0.000 ^ih»irm«n: Mr. THOMAS FARROW. Every description of Joint Stock Banking transacted. URRENT ACCOUNTS opened and Interest a?*'" on aporoved credit balance*. "SITS received at various rate* of ■ according to notice ol withdrawal. "'•« S »*i B inking Bui-mom ml all ncrln i).'inuo Iliii. 1 hail a rreuUr bohucIm *ai Alter taakiaa: feliel (tr y*ar« in vain. J strand, i.-irougli my buihuad. a unra sad aaOfaesr in ik Bri.Ufc Army, a c^lr-nardaj wou of 1 1- HiaA» K.UJM-. -iibtS «Z Sfipsrt 0ui-tf s Hail ut%\ rsosa n a\man* ik*» mi-** a»; »h«.hrr Xiv or Mao. ASJ I aak is ihal yw send m« tmo prnny Kunai to eever my aula, for MURK I a* alto Mad yos ,4bsr vnlaaUr Uui) m^.i. frae a* aaoa as pobUW. Ailna as bum THIS FREE COUPON 7^Zj."j: ^LTJ^'^ .y*"- "^'P*-1!* SI*-** — »J a*, aj* i«en— 11., m m. ■'■ ""a '» ■**••■•*"■"*» m»; aba sour, al iil.i aaaaty ******* ** ***** ** »*** '** aiMaavr *aai*aan ■ Hin*aoa, swa* H ut- •*» •. aid Cstnidi Suit, I. ■ i« 1 «. «r 1 /ar«*i*# I A NT m>TM -mt*t s ':*?" ** jt/*m*' **•**> *•

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120 WHY PEOPLE MARRY THIS is the till* of the first chapter of a great book on an 1 imjx.rlAiil question lo serious-minded people Ftotn the intpiied p«n of an accomplished lady writ-,, thi. remarkable Look 11 an absolutely amWiiaiive treatise on a subject which ha. perplexed Ilia mind of mankind froia the beginning of the world. Whila it is obviously not inicnc'ed for any but those who art married or comemplate marriage, there ii not a pace in the book that could harm the youngest child who can read— every lenience, every word, being a dean expression from the mind of a lady who has hail every opportunily of undying this important subject. It dealsaiih the psychological and sociological tides of married life. II points out the pitfalls of unhappine j and the certain way in which lo obtain and increase perfect married bliss. It u. tberefoir, an oiraordiiury guide to engaged couples, newly, married couples, and Ihose who have been married for scene lime yel have not succeeded in snore than "robbing along locether. A study of this work will br" - ■ ihouundi of homes, and as the writer puts herein contained ate understood and followed they will estuir iliat true love without which it is impossible to consummate a perfect union which makes heaven of every earthly tome.* The following is an abbreviated synopsis of the work, " Matrimony, its Obligations and Privileges," by Mona Baird. with a Preface by Mr. Thomas Holmes, the well-known Police Court Missionary (Post Free. I s. 9d.) : — INTRODUCTION ■an tiro an I. false and true, about e.arrlage. CHAPTER 1 Why people marry i - m„..„ -Lack 4 eeaSsafal rniirh lis.liy na.ll.ij— Low Urals— Lark of —ir-4.rj~? ssirtaUona— Boy flappers aa.i th.li rrtsaas-Uvr- t glSMiii ■arrl.g. In other landS*""* " ADVERTISEMENTS Beautifies the E)" ■ -yael - win gi.« sour eyes tost ) brilliancy, t Ivschr.sod rsprei- slon which men And peal'ag- Ii Oars the n freshens sa " ■■■■m in and strengthen* diem, siaklng then naturally amis beaurifaL "Eydol- U rrccaonveoded by leading "•--reesse. Including Mia Kyrle Kslloa. Mia. PbjUis Basils. Mdlle. Lqriea gVJjg. Mdlle. Edruee Oormeuil. rt, I'M "I s.olasb " Crsasi la darken brows aad lasses Ii stakes Ik ess laltk. ... l.tortaai. 2- minute Sketches1 Two oi hi. eflorts are reproduced hero. He««t»**T tW Ihese SklrJse. look Uu lime than I .lata. 3i« flic- «/ ^ r&frxjxA 'HjJ . ^ui fa • Tie *W.g SW 0 /e-M.i-il .go. «,«■ *U ,im its. - stare avsrerdaa.-* /«• ateea* C ..a/ seeaele. .sd. - £ !.* -* «» - _ When is marry i-i Ir-Tn OM— llaete I • •lrs.y-.Tb0 Ismrsrd .. A faralry of esrtaradsa. Whom lo marry 1 Pu •ele.-Uen-Tln Mi Tin fiaad of fate In f i.«wc — Sc» cans* t The m.ning tlmei-t CHAPTER III yir*..*!--. aJviea sad (a. raur. iMki and disaatar-ihiy aad rwt ramam Usags. st d Jora-aiatris ..in.ta— Urawiag ■ 1 - jfitii CM -Ms ~r ^Unno*— i.Ung by re.ii wvrh— Wlatse aas ta ausrry- '-« Hi leases it. aay ciumn v Crar-K.u. .ik-ii.,1.1 ft*ii«a»a^utni rt'fti- keenlag each other . tamr-r-IUrrwd Riru-O CHSfTIII VI 0S".!Z?i??*i-T*L2!ui'— """'T-bovs. botsowt. aa« at rsrsKiaai purity— >^r mm— fur atfiaea-rrsMaarltal sssSasssa ?sSrKr-7aS^ Can Yon Sketch? TW thibt, of Drasasag h a. Over 5.003 Arsay lira sludn I 0.1.I Coarse* for iksnrMihta-r OvUiaa. of bath ansa mm » •>r'-- - ''MtK Tha trailing Umai-rVsi lb. alniple_Ufa-««Ui^_M-, PTH VII iii.linii-l> Art SJ**J& I'm r imni 1 1#. -pr-.«i, utsU wr — l iieeisllf- Still N.- r-IUgkl H»^0-pHail ~ aialttU; Caaty-if T i^S^V^t^L'' '-Ta. rlasju afrkllrtanal The — ■ _ ■ r— ^mi-ip* m isiniws. -The aaai.'Uiy of aurlSsrssml luetslaassyv T7*, PB|f ARATOHV COURSE ••.:bat Sksttcsaag fro. Ik. v.r. r>inae> ■ , easms ix - Views rc dlv CHAPTBR ,-m- 3- - ■ sasy way ■ m fortke raw Bcosaase. TV. ADVANCED onn hi k» the Stadaas alraai, Wda s. Omm llslaarby^crjaverUoraWl "*» — o sssieast. jjal a/ rli ialii- V Protpoct... PupUa art. amkad to note P'f^S? that the ConnsM arts posted. They laaeJi 0r*$f* Drawing —not Copyiasr. Pupils of "^J** r tHM, etudr any -here. **\ .m*^ i rry eaa start at any 'J O olAiUil ft c*»y> , pr* •trikSng «apOttiticon, and r_ i«iwitrr» thou Id call «v sc>k1 ••IfllOdsI .-cfflM awl . postal order ff .i. MtW Health and Efficiency Publishing Company D.-1. 108. ». U*taU H II. U,d». E.C.4. at their crwa spa^ Fa«l *r« Pr. SostalsMoU. Tb-r. ao bindiag Ci--»*S •var Yea. eaa cet.se. wherever nra wu* *'f¥f "T W-biht, for uacoLple,^ Lis**.. «* 7^- H T ,fc",P«»'r' *>kv«bea. w a. ^-'JT t£ awn. sasda Fnta. A peatcaisl aieea vail krasg rea pL^ir ^uu^rinoaBf PERCY V BRADSM A*; J . . THE PRESS ART SCHOOL 'Dcpt.H 0

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' °' money ; but you'll have to pay. And Ev* you right, for being such an old silly think Miriam capable " k Oh. of course 1 will," said Mrs. Army- ?*e «aperly. " Money I You shall both of y» nave as much as ever you want, always. Charles Garvice And Miriam, here's the pearl 1 Oh, my dear, you must take it, yon mitsj / Every time I wore it I should remember There I there ! don't cry ! " But she was crying much harder thao Miriam was. t A new magazine should not apologise for its existence, or exist for apologies, for »s only one excuse the public will allow — that there is always room at the top for Whig tluzl can get there. If Hutchinson's Story Magazine cannot " get there " *J* its motto of " All the best all the lime," it will gladly retire and make room for Tl, " 1 he ht%t" we musi expbin , means primarily the work of world-renowned authors. subscribers to Hutchinson's Story Magazine may rest assured that this cnUi J*y has already been well provided for. Arrangements have been made with the follow- J* hading authors whose stories will appear, in many cases exclusively, in early issues n r- Paternoster Row, E.C.4. High prices will be paid for really good stories. I Oh the walls of the late G. F. Watts' studio in Surrey you will see the wards t m "The Utmost for the Highest ■» *« *i. . :hat j-w/i , that the Editor launches this Magazine into the world, \ Order your copy of the August number of Hutchinson's Story Magazine now. I lA"* tuch a strong list of authors it may go out of print on publication, and you will r^toget a copy. 131

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Mho- 9 Mrt/yUnMc/ 014/ ^»ng the amazing experiences of Victor Jones, one of *He 1 1 4,000 men and women who last year took r*e ROTH Memory Course The Popular Course at a Popular Price ^Of course I know you ! Mr. Addison W, of Hull. J^l remember correctly — and I do prober correctly — Mr. Burroughs, the r*** merchant, introduced me to you luncheon at the Automobile Club Is years ago in May. This is a *Ure indeed ! I haven't seen you that day. How is the grain busi- And how did that amalgamation * Out ? " assurance of the speaker — in the 3tled corridor of the Hotel Metro- ^j"T~Cf,InI'tlled mc to turn and look ^J|,n>. though I must say it is not my ■Lfobit to eavesdrop even in a hotel ? w|Ie Dmid M Roth, the most BP** memory expert in the work!.'" ^»0ty friend Kennedy, answering my 2*lion before I could get it out. " He ffc_L* v ^c'u rnan-v "lore wonderful than that before the evening i- he did. went into the banquet-room ^ M>st was introducing a long line of ^■jtests to Mr. Roth. I got in line, ^Bjvhcn it came my turn, Mr. Roth ■g. - What are your .initials, Mr ^^B*nd your business and telephone '^r*r ? " Why he asked this 1 learned rW' *hcn he picked out from the BET** 6o men he had met two hours iTj* 4r>d called each by name without "^."•take What is more, he named h^Wan's business and telephone ^"*r accurately. I won't tell you all the other amazing things this man did, except how he called out, without a minute's hesitation, long lists of numbers, bank clearings, prices, lot numbers, parcel post rates, and anything else the guests gave him in rapid order. ■ * When I met Mr. Roth again he rather bowled me over by saying, in his quiet, modest way : " There is nothing miraculous about my remembering anything I want to remember, whether it be names, faces, figures, facts, or something 1 have read in a magazine. " You can do this just its tasity as I do. " My own memory," continued Mr. Roth, " was originally very faulty. Yes, it was — a really poor memory. On meet- ing a man 1 would forget his name in thirty seconds, while now there are probably 10,000 men and women, many of whotn I have met but once, whose names I can recall instantly on meeting them." * That is all right for you, Mr. Roth," I interrupted, " you have given year* to it. But how about me ? " •' Mr. Jones,*' he replied, ■ I can teach you the secret of a good memory in out tvtmng. I have done it with thousand >s of pupils. In the first of seven simple lessons which I have prepared for home study, I show you the basic principle of my whole system, and you will find it not hard work, as you might fear, but just like playing a fascinating game. I will prove it to you."

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12-1 ADVERTISEMENTS He didn't have to prove it. His Course did : I got it the way next day from his publishers. When I tackled the fust lesson, I was amazed to find that I had learned— in about one hour — how to remember a list of one hundred words so that I could call them out forward and back without a single mistake. That first lesson stuck. And so did the other six. Read this letter from C. Louis Allen, who at 32 years became head of a ,£200,000 concern, the Pyrcne Manufac- turing Company, makers of the famous fire extinguisher : — "Now that the Roth Memory I can recall like a flash of lig almost any fact I want 'just at "th stant I need it most I used to a brilliant memory belonged only prodigy and genius. Now I «='ee til* every man of us has that kind of1 memory if he only knows how to m*** it work properly. I tell you it is a wonderful thitf after groping around in the dark *| so many years, to be able to switch * big searchlight on your mind and * instantly everything you want to member. My advice to you is, don't **} another minute. Send to the Natio"* Business and Personal Efficiency D£ partment 1 of the Standard Art ^ r«,„.» ; c ; • u j t panmem 1 01 tne standard Art '^7. hZ Z L Tu ' wanV°uten 3™ Co.. Ltd., 60, Chancery Lane, \V.C* !rf thT . r "!JOye.d the S& for Mr- Roth's amazing course; and * o! this most fascinating subject, what a ivrmsWr..! mt ha* Usually these courses involve a great deal of drudgery, but this has been nothing but pure pleasure all the way through. I have derived much bene- fit from taking the course of instruc- tions, and feel that I shall continue to strengthen my memory. That is the best part of it. I shall be glad of an opportunity to recommend your work to mv friends." Mr. Allen didn't put it a bit too strongly. The Roth Course is priceless .' I can absolutely count on my memory now. I can call the name of almost any man I have met before — and I am getting bitter all the time. I can remember My figures I wish to remember. Telc- what a wonderful memory you ^ got Your dividends in increased to1* ing power will be enormous. Victor JosB> SEND NO MONEY So confident are the publishers of 'j* Roth Memory Course that once have an opportunity to sc.- i:> own home how easy it is to doU"'*' yes, treble, your memory power '^1 few short hours, they are willing to the course for free examination. Don't send any monev. Merely a letter, and the complete course «1 be sent at once. I f you are not cfltn*!- Addresses are just as easy method, easy The old fear of forgetting (you know what that is) has vanished. Perhaps the most enjoyable part of it all is that I have become a good conversationalist. * But if you arc as pleased as 1 i4.ee© other men and women * have taken the course, send only K in full payrrjent. You take no r,TJ ],?>■ --■ — paynjent , wU ttw — and you have everything to ga*n' post the letter now before thi able offer is withdrawn National Business and Personal Efficiency Dep*- 1 THE STANDARD ART BOOK CO. LTD. 60. CHANCERY LANE, W.C-2

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THE FARMYARD "5

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One of the Great Books of the World ADVERTISEMENTS j*»*5n. • t Mankind _ »"n lk-i. ? ,he ""•'»«* °f all clime* »« .hey actually . „^*'L" »»"«M a", V* ' ' " ""'r *' «•«■ »o pn nd "'"•It 'I', PnV,0»Tapl.-» from life can never be ITiey hs.e Men procured in many uua A SHAN lil vi TV M fr^* 5*2 T** "°^«« »*•' iMcxnaibli .art. of ..or nrt'*" "' "* » '"' i'iut jr .1 |ir,» r!»-.i . MSdloa ■dks-^ arewnnn. clothinc. l«, aw^ ^ * . ,r*fm-'f>*- b"rla. «"* o' »h. Cuatom. Rita" and cremoniea or man and woman of ail countrl.a. l"" *\,*.0*k 'ncl'ide. 'he in each country n,n.,.ffg^,*gfi E*2£ "Pollution. w.lcbcTafl, d.alh. I'inrrau, hurial, and mouimnc. JLZWJH! ZCVIS ,n,?di.n* •uWriber. to learn . few f t ^ c"^°™m mhich a**"***- On the bmh in child, a father .ill lie up at an invalid in addmon to the mother : be i. not allowed to ro near h.. w.fe . be .. .ut.iec." MtoTe'tT /S&rTir' !9 -';^«': * ArLTJi^ -?B«,n«« of .be mother ; if .child ZmtiS^TSSi K '* born" » T '«"> 'be «. : « mother +WW her ch.ld to anckle .W A Ctrl i« abut up in a 53 „ „ > ca" Pf*1 J0"* >o marriaae . .beie »«« proper yZSL^ggi ,he •''•> ••«*rb. to attract a iTrl; ■ okareitc uflcred at a »i£n of acteMance; anere hu.band. "J paid fur by women : o..i hud, .back : chcwii. mini. u. iel rkZa I T taw rificea; propria. ion tvrt»i» c'««»e^d. , i i | , "" "]'' '** "' lh* awn) ,„,...~. .w.;, lr ir-V' ' Wb»cb at. 1^. i I i. i , ,1.,.. rati r( awtb rati, a, ■"»" ■ ' ^bjotai -1- Tbetw are .1... law miere.n l j ""T1 «»iu...I . Uiu, L.uJware «e, Iwwaw "«">d M half fMREW U»ilwr. el.bntwy (ibtrw 1. u Wri*» to-day. eawXtwataf amir peway TMB STANDARD ART BOOK CO.. l_T l»«pt. rX JO-3». | tdjale Mill, E.C.4 • > D.

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Maud forilic PtoprittoAMd PublWteM. Uon Hutciiwwn & Co., n. KienMpMt Row.^LonJon E.C.f. tiy Mnrr-ll. WMia & Viu-y. 14., Ixndoa aiul Aylabuij \ 1