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NBy GEORGE B aRR 7 McCUTCH BO N IttlIIIIttll llullllll ll iIIll ll1 llIIIIIIIIIlill! llII tl l lfIll l l Author of "GRAUSTARK," "THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND," "THE PRINCE OF GRAU STARK," "FROM THE HOUSETOPS," ETC. Copyright by Dodd, Mead and Company, Inc. GIRL OF MYSTERY! HOUSE OF MYSTERY! An American story of love and patriotism, of plot and counterplot, that enthralls the reader and keeps him guessing. CHAPTER I. -1 The First Wayfarer and the Second Wayfarer Meet and Part on the Highway. A solitary figure trudged along the narrow road that wound its serpen tinous way through the dismal, forbid ding depths of the forest-a man who, though weary and footsore, lagged not In his swift. resolute advance. Night was coming on, and with it the no un certain prospects of a storm. He came to the "pike" and there was a signpost. A huge, crudely paint ed hand pointed to the left, and on what was intended to be the sleeve of a very stiff and unflinching arm these words were printed in scaly white: "Hart's Tavern. Food for Man and Beast. Also Gasoline. Established 1798. 1 Mile." On the opposite side of the "pike," In the angle fo~rmed by a junction with the narrow mountain road, stood an humbler signpost, lettered so indis tinctly that it deserved the compas sion of all observers because of its humility. Swerving in his hurried pas sage, the tall stranger drew near this shrinking friend to the uncertain trav eler, and was suddenly aware of an other presence In the roadway. A woman appeared, as if from no where, almost at his side. He drew back to let her pass. She stopped he-' fore the little signpost, and together they made out the faint directions. To the right and up the mountain road Frogg's Corner lay four miles and a half away; Pitcairn was six miles back over the road which the man had traveled. Two miles and a half down the turnpike was Spanish Fails, a rail way station, anrrd four miles above the crossroads where the man and women stood peering through the darkness at the laconic signpost reposed the vil lage of St. Elizabeth. Hart's Tavern was on the road to St. Elizabeth, and the man, witm barely a glance at his fellow traveler, started briskly off in that direction. He knew that these wild mountain storms moved swiftly; his chance of reaching the tavern ahead of the del uge was exceedingly slim. His long, powerful legs had carried him twenty or thirty paces before he came to a sudden halt. What of this lone woman who trav ersed the highway? His first glimpse of her had been extremely casual indeed, he had paid no attention to her at all, so eager was he to read the directions and be on his way. She was standing quite still in front of the signpost, peering up the road toward Frogg's Corner-confronted by a steep climb that led into black and sinister timberlands above the narrow strip of pasture bordering the pike. The fierce wind pinned her skirts to her slender body as she leaned against the gale, gripping her hat tightly with one hand and straining under the weight of the bag in the other. The ends of a veil whipped furiously about her head, and, even in the gathering darkness, he could see a strand or two of hair keeping them company. Retracing his steps, he called out to her above the gale: "Can I be of any assistance to you?" She turned quickly. He saw that the veil was drawn tightly over her face. "No, thank you," she replied. Her voice, despite a certain nervous note, was soft and clear and gentle-the voice and speech of a well-bred per son who was young and resolute. "Pardon me, but have you much far ther to go? The storm will soon be upon us, and-surely you will not con sider me presumptuous-I don't like the idea of your being caught out in-" "What is to be done about it?" she inquired, resignedly. "I must go on. I can't wait here, you know, to be washed back to the place I started from." He smiled. She had wit as well as determination. "If I can be of the least assistance to you pray don't hesitate to command me. I am a sort of tramp, you might say, and I travel as well by night as I do by day-so don't feel that you are putting me to any inconvenience. Are you by any chance bound for Hart's Tavern? If so, I will be glad to lag behind and carry your bag." "You are very good, but I am not bound for Hart's Tavern, wherever that may be. Thank you, just the same. You appear to be an uncom menly genteel tramp, and it isn't be cause I am afraid you might make off with my belongings." She added the list by way of apology. He smilled-amd then frowned as he eat uan mes look at the black clouds now rolling ominously up over Sthe mountain ridge. "By Jove, we're going to catch it good and hard," he exclaimed. "Better take my advice. These storms are ter rible. I know, for I've encountered half a dozen of them in the past week. They fairly tear one to pieces. You are a stranger in these parts?" "Yes. The railway station is a few miles below here. I have walked all the way. There was no one to meet me. You are a stranger also, so it is useless to inquire if you know whether this road leads to Green Fancy." "Green Fancy? Sounds attractive. I'm sorry I can't enlighten you." He drew a small electric torch from his pocket and directed its slender ray upon the signpost. "It is on the road to Frogg's Cor ner," she explained nervously. "A mile and a half, so I am told. It isn't on the signpost. It is a house, not a vil lage. Thank you for your kindness. And I am not at all frightened," she added, raising her voice slightly. "But you are," he cried. "You're scared half out of your wits. You He Drew a Small Electric Torch From His Pocket and Directed Its Slender Ray Upon the Sign Post. can't fool me. I'd be scared myself at the thought of venturing into those woods up yonder." "Well, then, I am frightened," she confessed plaintively. "Almost out of my boots." "That settles it," he said flatly. "You shall not undertake it." "Oh, hut I must. I am expected. It is import-" "If you are expected why didn't someone meet you at the station? Seems to me--" "Hark! Do you hear-doesn't that sound like an automobile-ah!" The hoarse honk of an automobile horn rose above the howling wind, and an instant later two faint lights came rushing toward them around a bend in the mountain road. "Better late than never," she cried,' her voice vibrant once more. He grasped her arm and jerked her out of the path of the oncoming ma chine, whose driver was sending it along at a mad rate, regardless of ruts and s ones and curves. The car ca reened as it swung into the pike, skid ded alarmingly, and then the brakes were jammed down. Attended by a vast grinding of gears and wheels, the rattling old car came to a stop fifty feet or more beyond them. "rd sooner walk than take my chances in an antediluvian rattletrap like that," pid the tall wayfarer, bending quite close to her ear. "It will fall to pieces before you-" But she was running down the road toward the car, calling out sharply to the driver. He stooped over and took up the traveling bag she had dropped in her haste and excitement. It was heavy, amazingly heavy. "I shouldn't like to carry that a mile and a half," he said to himself. The voice of thq belated driver came to his ears on the swift wind. It was high-pitched and unmistakably apolo getic. He could not hear what she was saying to him, but there wasn't much doubt as to the nature oP-her remarks. She was roundly upbraiding him. Urged to action by thoughts of his own plight he hurried to her side and said: "Excuse me, please. You dropped something. Shall I put it up in front or In the tonneau?" The whimsical note in his voice brought a quick, responsive laugh from her lips. "Thank you so much. I am fright fully careless with my valuables. Would you mind putting it in behind? Thanksl" Her tone altered complete 1y as she ordered the man to turn the car around-"And be quick about it," she added. The first drops of rain pelted down from the now thoroughly black dome above thitu. striking in the road with the sharpness of pebbles. "Lucky it's a limousine," said the tall traveler. "Better hop in. We'll be getting it hard in a second or two." "You must let me take you on to the Tavern in the car," she said. "Turn about is fair play. I cannot allow you to-" "Never mind about me," he broke in cheerily. He had been wondering if she would make the offer, and he felt better now that she had done so. "I'm accustomed to roughing it. I don't mind a soaking. I've had hundred of 'em." "Just the same you shall not have one tonight." she announced firmly. "Get in behind. I shall sit with the driver." If anyone had told him that this rattling, dilapidated automobile-ten years old, at the very least, he would have sworn-was capable of covering the mile in less than two minutes he would have laughed in his face. Al most before he realized that they were on the way up the straight, dark road the lights in the windows of Hart's Tavern came into view. Once more the bounding, swaying car came to a stop under brakes, and he was relax ing after the strait? of the most hair raising ride he had ever experienced. Not a word had been spoken dur ing the trip. The front windows were lowered. The driver-an old, hatchet faced man-had uttered a single word just before throwing in the clutch at the crossroads in response to the young woman's crisp command to drive to Hart's Tavern. That word was uttered under his breath and it is not necessary to repeat it here. The wayfarer lost no time in climb ing out of the car. As he leaped to the ground and raised his green hat he took a second look at the automobile-a look of mingled wonder and respect. It was an old-fashioned, high-powered car, capable, despite its antiquity, of astonishing speed in any sort of go ing. "For heaven's sake," he began, shouting to her above the roar of the wind and rain. "don't let him drive like that over those-" "You're getting wet," she cried out, a thrill in her voice. "Good night and thank you !" "Look out!" rasped the unpleasant driver, and in went the clutch. The man in the road jumped hastily to one side as the car shot backward with a jerk, curved sharply, stopped for the fraction of a second, and then bounded forwvard again, headed for the cross roads. "Thanks!" shouted the late passen ger after the receding tail light, and dashed up the steps to the porch that ran the full length of Iart's Tavern. A huge old-fashioned lantern hung above the portal, creaking and strain ing in the wind, dragging at its stout supports and threatening every in stant to break loose and go frolicking away with the storm. He lifted the latch and, being a tall man, involuntarily stooped as he passed through the door, a needless precaution, for gaunt, gigantic moun taineers had entered there before him and without bending their arrogant heads. CHAPTER II. The First Wayfarer Lays His Pack Aside and Falls in With Friends The little hall in which he found himself was the "office" through which all men must pass who come as guests to Hart's Tavern. A steep, angular staircase took up one end of the room. Set in beneath its upper turn was the counter over which the business of the house was transacted, and behind this a man was engaged in the peaceful occupation of smoking a corncob pipe. An open door to the rigld of the stairway gave entrance to a room from which came the sound of a deep, sono rous voice employed in what turned out to be a conversational solo. To the left another door led to what was evidently the dining room. The glance that the stranger sent in that direction revealed two or three tables covered with white cloths. "Can you put me up for the night?" he inquired, advancing to the counter. "You look like a feller who'd want a room with bath," drawled the man behind the counter, surveying the ap plicant from head to foot: "Which we ain't got," he added. "I'll be satisfied to have a room with a bed," said the other. "Sign here," was the laconic re sponse. "Can I have supper?" "Food for man and beast," said the other patiently. He slapped his palm upon a cracked call bell and then looked at the fresh name on the page. "Thomas K. Barnes, New York," he read aloud. He eyed the newcomer once more. "My name is Jones-Put nam Jones. I run this place. My fa ther an' grandfather run it before me. Glad to meet you, Mr. Barnes. We used to have a hostler here named larnes. What's your idear fer footin' it this time o' the year?" "I do something like this every spring. A month or six weeks of it puts me in fine shape for a vacation later on," supplied Mr. Barnes whim sically. Mr. Jones allowed a grin to steal over his seamed face. He reinserted the corncob pipe and took a couple of pulls at it. "I never bhen to New York, but it must he a heavenly place for a vaca tion, if a feller c'n judge by what some of my present boarders have to say about it. It's a sort of play actor's paradise, ain't it?" "It is paradise fo every actor who happens to be on the road, Mr. Jones," said Barnes, slipping his big pack from his shoulders and letting it slide to the floor. "Hear that feller in the taproom talkin'? Well, he is one of the lead ing actors in New York-in the world. for that matter. He's been talkin' about Broadway for nearly a week now, steady.' "May I inquire what he is doing up here in the wilds?"° "At present he ain't doing anything except talk. Last week he was treddin' the boards, as he puts it himself. Bust ed. Up the flue. Showed last Satur day night in Hornville, eighteen mile north of here, and immegiately after the performance him and his whole troupe started to walk back to New York, a good four hundred mile. They started out the back way of the opery house and nobody missed 'em till next mornin' except the sheriff, and he didn't miss 'em till they'd got over the county line into our bailiwick. Four of 'em are still stoppin' here just because I ain't got the heart to turn 'em out ner the spare money to buy 'em tickets to New York. Here comes one of 'em now. Mr. Dilling ford, will you show this gentleman to room eleven and carry his baggage up fer him? And maybe he'll want a pitcher of warm water to wash and shave in." He turned to the new guest and smiled apologetically. "We're a little short o' help just now, Mr. Barnes, and Mr. Dillingford has kind ly consented to-" "My word !" gasped Mr. Dillingford, staring at the register. '"omeone from little old New York? My word, sir, you- Won't you have a-er little something to drink with me be fore you-" "He wants something to eat," inter rupted Mr. Jones sharply. "Tell Mr. Bacon to step up to his room and take the order." "All right, old chap-nothing easier," said Mr. Dillingford genially. "Just climb up the elevator, Mr. Barnes. We do this to get up an appetite. When did you leave New York?" Taking up a lighted kerosene lamp and the heavy pack, Mr. Clarence Dii lingford led the way up the stairs. He was a chubby individual of indefi nite age. Atfa glance you would have said he was under twenty-one; a sec ond look would have convinced you that he was nearer forty-one. Depositing Barnes' pack on a chair in the little bedroom at the end of the hall upstairs he favored the guest with a perfectly unabashed grin. "I'm not doing this to oblige old man Jones, you know. I won't attempt to deceive, you. I'm working out a daily board bill. Chuck three times a day and a bed to sleep in-that's what I'm doing it for, so don't get it into your head that I applied for the job. Let me look at you. I want to get a good square peep at a man who has the means to go somewhere and yet is boob enough to come to this gosh awful place of his own free will and accord. Darn it, you look intelligent. I don't get you at all. What's the mat ter? Are you a fugitive from justice?" Barnes find the theatrical people entertaining, but as the storm rages does a good deal of thinking about the mysterious girl bound for Green Fancy. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Mystery in Plant's Presence. The Chilena provinces of Atacama, Tarapaca and Tacna are in the rain less region, or desert country west of the Andes, and are entirely devoid of vegetation. The winds in all of' this region are from the east, and in pass ing over the elevated perpetual snows of the Andes are stripped of their mbisture and arrive on the coast per fectly dry. The last rain, a slight shower which fell in Antofagasta, In Atacama province, was the first rain which had fallen in 16 years. The last rain which fell in Iquique, in Tarapaca province, was the first in 24 years. With both of these showers a notable phenomenon occurred. The hills back of these cities assumed a green tint from a little plant which sprang up almost in a night. The query is: "From where did this plant mmot" MANAGERS STALLINGS, RICKEY AND BEZDEK ARE RELEASED BY GOSSIPS There have been rumors that three National league managers are soon to retire, the men mentioned being Stallings, Rickey and Bezdek. This is not likely as to Stallings, who is not of the retiring kind and has. moreover, an ironclad contract which has this year to.run. Neither is it likely that Rickey, who was anxious to combine team management with the club presidency, will lightly relinquish it. Pirates Big Disappointment. But it may be true of Bezdek, as things are not breaking well for him with the Pittsburgh team, which is a big disappointment, and he is being hard pressed by the-University of Oregon to resume his post as athletic director at Oregon. Hte is, however, under contract as athletic director at Pennsylvania State college, and would have to secure a cancellation of that contract, as well as his Pittsburgh contract, to accept the urgent offer from Oregon, where sport has taken a big slump since Bezdek's departure. Max Carey as Manager. It is believed that Bezdek can obtain his release from Pennsylvania State college and also from the Pittsburgh club, where Outfielder Carey stands ready for the managerial job if Bezdek cares to return to Oregon university. direto a Oregoa. lie s, hwevr, uder ontact s a hlei diU~re 4·ctr at Pennsyr;lvai tt college, an ol aet eueacnelaino htcnrca eia VIEWS OF MANAGER COOMBS Race for Championship Bunting No Mauve-Tinged Pipe for Any Baseball Aggregation. Jack Coombs, than whom there is no shrewder man in balIdom, has not conceded the bunting to the Giants, not by any stretch of the imagination. Coombs thinks the impending chase will be no mauve-colored pipe for any aggregation. '"This is going to be a Manager Jack Coombs. real slam-bang affair, the pennant race of 1919." said Coombs. "It's no team's jaunt at this juncture. The Giants are a good club, to he sure, but the Phils and six other clans are going tohave something to say as to which will lift the autumn laurels. I predict it will be one of the most bitterly fought races in the recent annals of balldom." ROOKIE SHOWS REAL CLASS John Paul Jones Expected to Derive Much Benefit From George Gibson at Toronto. John Paul Jones, the young pitcher sent by McGraw to the Toronto clubs is a boy of much promise and just the sort of a fellow that the Giant leader would keep with him if the player limit permitted. However, a season in the Interna tional league will be of great benefit to the Louisiana hurler, especially in view of the fact that he will be under the tutelage of George Gibson, a past master in the art-and it is an art--of developing young pitchers. GERBER GOOD "BOX" FIGHTER Shortstop of St. Louis Browns Acted Sparring Partner for Pugilist Kid Regan. Walter Gerber, shortstop of the St. Louis Browns, during the team's re cent home stay, acted as sparring partner for Pugilist Kid Regan while Regan was training for a fight. Gerber is said to have shown in the workouts that he might have been famous as a box fighter himself had he taken up that branch of sport instead of base ba. NO PERFECT BALL GAME I When a pitcher hurls a no run-no-hit, no-man-reached-first game, he is always credited with pitching a perfect game. But a perfect game has never been pitched and, it is fair to _assume, one never will he pitch ed, for a perfect game would + mean 27 men retired on strikes on 81 pitched halls. That, and that alone, would be a perfect game. DIAMOND * NOTES O'Mara is playing a great game al third for Hendricks. Cy Williams isn't particular where he knocks his home runs. Manager Connie Mack of the ex champion Athletic team plays golf. If Owner McGill only had a couple more Clint Rogges and Cavets there would be nothing to it. Warm weather loosens up the kinks in the salary arms, but it doesn't loosen up the salary any. When tt comes to driving 'em bacd to the water bucket prohibltios hasn't much on Walter Johnson. From the eight baseball nines o0 the Service league of San Francisec an all-star nine will be picked to tout the states and play amateur teams. The New York Giants have a first baseman under cover in George Kelly. who seems to be finally coming through. He is reported as playing wonderful ball for Rochester. Pitchers come and go, but some hang on forever. Old Moose Rlomine looks like a million dollars in the Three-I league and is about the only pitcher the Bloomington club depends on. In the second game of the Deora tion day set-to between St. Paul and Minneapolis the Saints scored 21 runs, Leo Dressen crossing the plate six times. He drew four bases on balls and singled twice, getting around each time he got on base. Johnny McGraw says Roger Bres nahan was the greatest catcher he ever saw---always excepting Buck Ew ing. Like the Irishman who said. "Pat ('lancy is the greatest fighter in the world-but he has a brother who can bate the life oM av him."--To ledo Blade. Des Moines gets Outfielder Horace Milan as part payment for Buzz Mur phy, ifs addition to a good round sum in cash from the Washington treas ury. It declined to let Murphy go un less given a good man to safeguard Its outfield. Milan should be a bear in the Western league.