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VIRGINIA LEILA WENTZ (Continued from yesterday.) T'don't know many men." she said measuredly. "I never did judge Rob ert by a general standard. I judged him by the standard I held out to him before married him. It was a pretty big one, but he knew it, and, God for give him. he knelt beside me and swore it was his own. "And now"—again that spasmodic twitching of the brows, while the low, measured voice went on—"and now it's not only against my standard that I balance him. I weigh him against one who my standard' standard." msOadvance—lifMsswas CHAPTER IX. BACK FRO PIUSOS. Mrs. Mason' narrow, unbend ing, shortsighted code every thing in prepared in a man' political con- victions, a woman's religious convic tions, a child's nursery stories, the ba bies* prayers. Her puritanic soul was outraged wholly now, and, flushing angrily, with an instinctive shrinking back of her whole person, she attack ed the woman before her. "May the Lord have mercy on such women as you, Anna Granger! You're wicked, flagrantly, deliberately wick ed, to utter such thoughts. Isn't it enough to have the unlawful feeling?" She wheeled suddenly to Temple. "Ob, I've seen for a long time that you loved her. Every one has Been it. But I thought her sense of de cency"— Temple stepped forward at that, his eyes blazing. "Mrs. Mason," he said forbiddingly, "don't you think you have gone quite far enough? Have you no pity, no sense of womanliness?" The housekeeper winced at the man's tones. The words escaped her. Anna had risen. Very white and still, she stood for a second. Then: "Mr. Temple, 1 must leave this boose, leave it at once. But you may count upon me. When your case comes up for trial I shall be there. I am going to clear you. Mrs. Mason thinks"—her eyes traveling slowly to the elder woman—"that it's not be cause you're innocent that 1 Insist upon giving my testimony. She thinks if because 1 love you. I do. But you at least know I've nothing farther to hope from this. I am Rob ert Granger's wife till death!" Temple bowed. "Yes, I know," he said simply. "I want you—in my soul I want you—to be always as you are now—right and loyal." "That Is what I longed to hear you say, just those words," said she, with a little, quick, sobbing breath. Mrs. Mason was forgotten. For a brief moment they two were alone, re moved from the rest of the world. The silence was eloquent, yet never had Barton Temple felt farther from the woman he loved than now after she had made her heart's confession. He adored her inaccessibility, her code of honor as wife and mother. It was she who broke the silence, and when she spoke the great moth orliness of her voice sank into his troubled soul and quieted him. "It bad to come some day—the awak ening. Will you try to believe me when 1 say it is not all a loss, be cause we will not allow it to be a loss? Because we are going to do right, you and I." She smiled up at blm with trembling Ups and eyes running over. Then she lifted one hand and placed it upon his dark head, even as he a little while ago bad placed his upon her own. And In this case again it was not a caress, but a benediction, and be un derstood. She turned and moved evenly toward the door. There came a sharp rap, a feverish, insistent, wild sort of rap. and she paused. Cato looked up alert ly from his nap and threw back his ears. Temple stepped quickly to the door and threw it open. Then, in amaze ment be stepped back. "Granger!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" A little white faced man, wearing a long ulster and carrying his hat in bis band, entered. It was not his close cropped hair and subservient hangdog manner alone which witnessed to the late prison life and discipline the tim id. Interval spaced movement of the lockstep bore its witness as well. He cast but one sickly glance of con fusion at Burton Temple. Then be turned to the woman who stood stone still at one side of the door staring at him piteously. "Anna, I've been pardoned," he said, coming to her quickly. "1 came here at once, you see. I want to speak with you for a moment alone." His words were hurried, furtive. like the jailbird accustomed to sneaking whispers in the prison line to bis pal. Involun tarily the wife shivered. "There's no need. Robert" she an swered dully. "There's nothing to con ceal now: they know who I am." Wearily she turned to Temple. "The pardon has been granted." said she. Temple bowed, without speaking. "Yes." broke in Granger with nerr •as baste. "They've been working for Oot*^ Copyright, IOII. by American Preu Aiiociation a pardon for some time, you know. You've seen it in the papers, haven't you? You see, the public felt that I was innocent, unjustly condemned, so"- He paused, seeing a slight, beseech ing gesture of his wife to Temple. The big financier understood and. turning, quit the room quietly, leaving man and wife together. Mrs. Mason, whose curiosity was quite as alive as her conscience, stayed. It wouldn't do to miss this meeting. Maybe it was her duty to stay! "1 want you to leave this house, to come away with me at once. There's no longer any need for proofs of vin dication, you see," Granger said to Anna, hastily kissing her. She submitted, battling down the shudder of disgust which the touch of his lips fetched her. After all. he was her husband. "Yes. I'll go with you," she said life lessly. She wondered how she could live with this thief all the rest of her days. "You see, Anna, every one knew I was innocent every one believed in me. Now 1 must get away to some place where I can rest, where no one will ask me questions or harry me, for I'm tired to death—to death. Oh," still catching no responsive light on the immobile face before him, "it was your belief in me, Anna, that gave me courage all along." She looked at him, shuddering. "But 1 don't believe in you. Robert" she said. "I know." Under the man's prison pallor rose a sort of grayish fright "Know! Know what?" he asked sharply. "I know that you are not innocent, Robert!" At those words all the bravado went out of Granger, as a tiny spark sud denly goes out touched by a block of ice. "Sh-h-h! What do you mean any how? I am Innocent: I am." He did not whisper now be almost shrieked, even as he had in court that day when the jury pronounced him guilty. And now, as then, he fancied he saw over bis bead the cruel Roman symbol of vengeance, the faces and the az—saw, too, the calm women who spin the thread of life, crouching on the shad owy frescoed wall of the courtroom, a naked skull at their feet Something seemed to grip bis throat He strangled an instant then he coughed and spat He drew his bands across his eyes and pulled himself to gether. "I am Innocent Innocent!" he In sisted. "Don't! Don't. Robert!" cried Anna, pity at the shameful sight of her per jured husband rising in her heart "I know the whole of it I've read the letter you wrote to Cornelius Brady, you see." He shook as a man seized suddenly by some deadly disease. Then in stinctively, fearfully, he looked to ward Mrs. Mason. "She knows all," said Anna quietly. "Who has that letter? Where is it? Has Temple got it? My God. why don't you tell meT "There is no letter now, Robert I read It, and I burned it without think ing." "You destroyed it? Then it can't be used against me! Oh. Anna, you're a trump!" He seized both her bands and kissed them in a frenzy of relief. Even in that pivotal moment, though, when the weight of months had fallen from him and left him light, a suspicion came to him. a jailbird suspicion. "But you said 'without thinking.' Without thinking what Anna?" "Without thinking that as well as convicting you that letter was the only evidence to vindicate Mr. Temple." an swered she calmly. Then Mrs. Mason, with a sneer, made it plain. "Maybe your wife feels that an inno cent man mustn't be sent to prison. Mr. Granger, or maybe she feels some stronger motive. I remember that you were adverse to ber staying on here the day that I saw you. Now. I believe, she thinks of giving evidence about the destruction of that letter." At the Inst sentence the ugly, con demning. vindictive expression which From the Play by WILLIAM J. HLIRLBURT had ctime info Grangers face at ner Incriminating words vanished. "Anna, it's not true! It couldn't be true that you would expose me!" he gasped in a sort of terror. "You are not going to tell about that letter? Why. I am your husband, Anna—your husband! I did certify that check. Yes. 1 did. But. good God. why should you want to rum me?" He sank at her feet in pitiful ab ject appeal. "Anna, as your husband, as a man who loves you and whom you once loved. I say. forgive me. Great heav ens! I've repented. I've paid thrice over again for my folly. What can 1 do now? I can't undo what's been done. It's you who must wipe out the stain help me to begin over again. Your forgiveness would be absolution. Anna, you will forgive me?" Curiously the woman touched his shoulder. Instinctively she wanted to feel just a little bit alive. But she might as well have touched a post of wood. It seemed as though the very faculty of feeling had been obliterated within ber. "Forgive you? I suppose I must. Robert." she said lifelessly. "All wo men forgive. They were put into the world like priests or governors. I think. Only we are not supposed to give pen ances or sentences"— Her voice trailed off wearily. "You see, Anna," Granger went on, trying to excuse himself. "I knew I hadn't made the success of my life that you'd expected. It touched my pride to the quick to see you living In that narrow way—you. who might have been a queen among women." A look of cunning came into his face. "And then, the boys" "But. Robert didn't you know that I would sooner have worked my fin gers to the bone and my brain to a lit tle white spot than have you do this awful thing? Didn't you know I would sooner have worn rags than have you steal?" She made a pitiful little ges ture and ended with a half sob. "I know, 1 know," said be. "It's easy now to see what a mad idea it all was. But I bad that chance to get a fresh start in life. With money I could do big things 1 could make myself all that you wanted me to be. The boys were growing up. We needed more for them for college and to give them a fair start. "And listen, Anna"-he moistened his lips—"I've invested the money. put it in stocks tbat would pay well: I was going to use the Interest for you and the boys, a little at a time. You see. it was for you and them I did it. I was a fool, perhaps—I was worse. Yes, I know. But you'll help me now. won't you? I need you!" The appeal had gone home be had aroused the maternal instinct, always dominant in Anna's breast (The "Largo of Motherhood" in the "Sym phony of Womanhood" was playing again.) She put out ber hand toward him again with a quick, unconscious gesture, such as she used in the nurs ery when the children were tired or naughty. "Yes. Robert." she admitted, "you do need some one. You need me, yes." Craven's voice, speaking to the but ler in the hall, broke in upon tbem. "Not in the library? Well, find him and tell him bis car's ready now. Just saw the chauffeur drive up. Tell him I'll be with bim in a minute. Have a letter to rattle off first." "It's Craven, the attorney," explain ed Anna, following Robert's fright ened look toward the door. "1 don't want to see any one." shiv ered Granger. "Can't we go in there?" He motioned to a door on the opposite side of the room. Realizing bow sen sitive he must feel, Anna nodded. •'Yes, go. I'll call you when he's left." The door had barely closed upon his retreating figure when Craven blus tered in. Evidently as yet he knew nothing either of Anna's confession or of ber husband's presence. "Miss Dale, please rattle off a letter for me," said be. settling down in a chair and pulling some notes hurriedly out of bis pocket. "But hasn't Mr. Temple told you?" A una hesitated before taking the dic tation. "Eh? Told me? What?" snapped Craven, buried in his notes. "He'll tell ine later. I suppose." Of course it was this matrimonial nonsense. "Mean while. Miss Dale, you'll just take this direct to the machine, won't you? It's not long. It's to call off a lot of un necessary work in regard to the Gran ger woman." "The Granger woman?' "Oh. I mean, of course, the woman in the Granger case. Quite another thing, isn't it? None of that evidence is required now. you see." he went on. straightening out his notes. "We got it thougb. all right all right Had it ready. "'New York Detective bureau. 1429 Broadway. New York."' Craven be gan to dictate. Obediently the machine's keys tick ed off the address. (To be Continued) Tribune Want Ads Pay BISMARCK DAILY TRIBUNE A HUMANJNIGMA The Count of St. Germain, a Fa mous Old World Impostor. CLAIMED TO BE IMMORTAL He Dazzled the Court of Louis XV. and Said He Had Lived 2.000 Years and Had Concocted an Elixir That Would Keep Him Young and Alive Forever. One of the greatest Impostors iu the annals of France and that the court of any nation has had to deal witb was the Count of St Germain, whose life Is written down as one long mystery and tastes much more of fiction than of fact in its relating. Who he was no one knows nor where he came from nor what finally became of him. He suddenly appeared at the French court of Louis XV. in 1748. He had an af fable and convincing way about bim and succeeded in winning friends. Just who introduced him or bow this hand some, brilliant stranger came to be in troduced into the court circle is a mys tery. It was at the period when the most rigorous etiquette was maintain ed and ancestry counted for much and every title of nobility had to be thor oughly authenticated before it was ac cepted. No one knew St Germain nor had ever heard of him when he made his debut at the French court, although he spread the report that he was 2.000 years old and was able to convince many of the more susceptible into be lieving it He had no records to show that he was entitled to the'name of count he had no visible means of sup port and yet he took up splendid quar ters in Paris and lived at an extrava gant rate. The French court had had some experience with adventurers and were more or less suspicious but. in spite of the fact that they knew noth ing about him. St. Germain was receiv ed with open arms and the king made him his boon companion. Mme. de Pompadour, the reigning beauty of the court consulted him freely on affairs of state and society. So powerful did he become that dukes and ambassa dors were among his closest friends and bitterest foes. Finally St. Germain's claim to im mortality became the general discus sion among all who knew bim or bad beard of him. He claimed that be would never die, for bad he not al ready lived 2.000 years, and natural ly be was pointed oat as the wonder of the age. He spoke every language then known and one as fluently as the other. He bad a positive genius for chemistry and astounded the world by discoveries be made—or pretended to have made—along this line. The most monumental of all his fakes was the story he told of how, having been born close to 300 years before Christ, be had found age creeping up and deter mined, through his skin in chemistry, to concoct the liquor tbat would keep bim always alive and young. The man's perfect and intimate knowledge of all history led many people to be lieve this wild statement. He would relate personal narratives of Nero, Dante. Francis I. and other notables of former centuries. St. Germain also claimed to possess a secret of turning baser metals into gold and of making precious stones. His untraced wealth and the fact that he fairly blazed with diamonds lent credence to bis stories. He was so clever in the workings of his fakes as not to be detected, and he was never proved to be a swindler, a gambler or a spy, thougb he was charged witb be ing ail three. He was about fifty years old at the time of bis appearance at the French court He carried everything before him while he remained there, but he was restless and finally drifted from court to court and later is credited witb having become the boon com panion of the Landgrave, Charles of Hesse, and is reported to have died In Bchleswig-Holstein In 1780. But did he die or is he still living? Naturally be is not alive, but no one ever knew what became of blm. Gros ley. an eminent scientist and fellow of the Royal society, believed be saw St Germain In a French prison during the reign of terror in 1794. Lord Lytton in 1860 met a man who seemed the em bodiment of the old count Van Damme writes of a mysterious "ma jor" who was in the court of Louis Na poleon in 1855, who was of no known nationality, of undiscovered origin and with plenty of money from a source none could learn. A man must have possessed excep tional ability as a faker and must have had the trick down to an art to have fooled such Intelligent men as Andrew Lang, Lord Lytton, Grosley and many others, and for tbat reason he must be put down as one of the most monumental fakes of history.— Philadelphia Press. The French Monarchy. History concedes that CIovls I. was the real founder of the French mon archy, although bis father. Childerlc. held some sort of tribal rale over part of the country which was destined to become France. Clovis was a progres sive king and vastly extended his do mains during the period of his rale, from. 481 to 511. He made endless war on surrounding tribes and took territory right and left by conquest. In 493 Clovis took Paris by storm, and thereupon tbat city became the permanent seat of the French govern ment There Is only one real failure In life possible, and tbat is not to be true to Che best one knows. H®HpDini 6ir@w Planting shrubs in the springtime is not unlike start ing your business with the new year. It is not enough merely to plant them—they must receive constant atten tion, with sunshine, fresh air, moisture, protection from weeds, guards for tresspassers you must give regular faithful care least they wither, becomecrowdedout anddie Your business needs constant attention to thrive. Not merely your favorable location, or long acquaint ance—because your customers are but human, they soon forget. Their minds are busy. New ones come— others never know you. Live merchants crowd out your memory. The impression of business is flighty. Impressions often lie. THE ADVERTISING of a business house does more than record spurts, bargain sales, or internal up heavals. It records the steady, honest, progressive policy of a well-organized house. The memory of customers is but human. It tires. The steady, daily ad keeps the customer posted—keeps him up to his natural gait as a unit of the consuming public. ARE YOU GETTING your share of the purchas ing expression of Bismarck's population. Do you plan to hold your business steady, keep it regular and growing for this year? Have you an advertising contract with the Bismarck Daily Tribune? THURSDAY, JANUARY 11, 1812.