Newspaper Page Text
dU W61A~Y E14, U @ET®ý THIRD DEGRJL VCHAn Lr KLEIN V ~~AND ARTHUR HORNBLOW V ILLUSTWATION$ BY RAY WALTLR$ COPYRIGNT, 1909, BY O W. DILLINGNAM COlMMWY 18 SYNOPSIS. Howard Teffries, banker's son, under the evil infiunnce of Robert Underwood. fellow-student at Yale, leads a life of dis sipation, marries the daughter of a gam bler who died in prison, and is disowned by his father. He is out of work and in desperate straits. Underwood, who had once been engaged to Howard's step mother, Alicia, is apparently in prosper pus circumstances. Taking advantage of his intimacy with Alicia, he becomes a sort of social highwayman. Discovering his true character, Alicia denies him the house. He sends her a note threatening suicide. Art dealers for whom he acted as commissioner, demand an accounting. He cannot make good. Howard calls at his apartments in an intoxicated condi flon to request a loan of $2,000 to enable him to take up a business proposition. Underwood tells him he is in debt up to tis eyes. Howard drinks himself into a maudlin condition, and goes to sleep on a Sivan. A caller is announced and Under woqd draws a screed around the drunken sleeper. Alicia enters. She demands a promise from Underwood that he will not lake his life. He refuses unless she will renew her patronage. This she refuses, and takes her leave. Underwood kills himself. The report of the pistol awa ltens Howard. He finds Underwood dead. Realizing his predicament he attempts to flee and is ntet by Underwood's valet. Howard is turned over to the police. Capt. Clinton, notorious for his brutal $reatment of prisoners, puts Howard atrough the third degree, and finally gets an alleged confession from the harassed man. Annie, Howard's wife, declares her beliet in her husband's innocence, and says she will clcar him. She calls on Feffries, Sr. lie refuses to help unless he will consent to a divorce. To save ward she consents, but when she finds at the elder Jeffries does not intend to stand by his son, except financially, she Gcorns his help. Annie appeals to Judge Brewster, attorney for Jeffries, Sr., to take Howard's case. He declines. CHAPTER XIII.-Continued. "Where are the women?" asked Annie, trying to keep down the lump that rose chokingly in her throat. "They're in a separate part of the prison," replied the keeper. "Isn't it dreadful?" she murmured. "Not at all," he exclaimed cheer fully. "These prisoners fare better in prison than they do outside. I wager some of them are sorry to leave." "But it's dreadful to be cooped up in those little cells, isn't it?" she said. "Not so bad as it looks," he laughed. "They are allowed to come out in the corridor to exercise twice a day for an hour and there is a splendid shower bath they can take." "Where is my husband's cell?" she whispered, almost dreading to hear the reply. "There it is," he said, pointing to a door. "No. 456." Walking rapidly ahead of her and stopping at one of the cell doors, he rapped loudly on the iron grating and cried: "Jeffries, here's a lady come to see you. Wake up there!" A white, drawn face approached the grating. Annie sprang forward. "Howard!" she sobbed. "Is it you, Annie?" came a weak voice through the bars. "Can't I go in to him?" she asked pleadingly. The keeper shook his head. "No, m'm, you must talk through the bars, but I won't disturb you." He walked away and the husband and wife were left facing each other. The tears were streaming down An nie's cheeks. It was dreadfitl to be standing there so close and yet not be able to throw her arms around him. Her heart ached as she saw the dis tress in his wan, pale face. "Why didn't you come before?" he asked. "I could not. They wouldn't let me. Oh, Howard," she gasped. "What a dreadful thing this is! Tell me how you got into such a scrape!" He put his hand to his head as if it hurt him, and she noticed that his eyes looked queer. For a moment the agony of a terrible suspicion crossed her mind. Was it possible that in a moment of drunken recklessness he had shot Underwood? Quickly, almost breathlessly, she whispered, to him; "Tell me quickly, 'tis not true, is it? You did not kill Robert Underwood." He shook his head. "No," he said. "Thank God for that!" she ex claimed. "But your confession-what does that mean?" "I do not know. They told me I did it. They insisted I did it. He was Euro I did it. Hie told me he knew I did it. He showed me the pistol. He was so insistent that I thought he was right-that I had done it." In a deep whisper he added earnestly: "But you know I didn't, don't you?" "Who is he?" demanded Annie. "The police captain." "Oh, Capt. Clinton told you you did it?" Howard nodded. "Yes, he told me he knew I did it. He kept me standing there six hours, questioning* and questioning until I was ready to drop. I tried to sit down; he made me stand up. I did not know what I was saying or doing. He told me I killed Robert Under wood. He showed me the pistol under the strong light. The reflection from the polished nickel flashed Into my eyes, everything suddenly became a blank. A few moments later the cor oner came in and Capt. Clinton told him I confessed. But It isn't true, LA H i l fI " He Felt In Slnoularlv Good Soirita. ile. . You know I am as innocent of that murder as you are." "Thank God, thank God!" exclaimed Annie. "I see it all now." Her tears were dried. Her brain was beginning to work rapidly. She al ready saw a possible line of defense. "I don't know how it all happened," went on Howard. "I don't know any more about it than you do. I left you to go to Underwood's apartment. On the way I foolishly took a drink. When I got there I took more whisky. Be fore I knew it I was drunk. While talking I fell asleep. Suddenly I heard a woman's voice." "Ah!" interrupted Annie. "You, too, heard a woman's voice. Capt. Clinton said there was a woman in it." Thoughtfully, as if to herself, she added: "We must find that woman." "When I woke up," continued How ard, "it was dark. Groping around for the electric light, I stumbled over something. It was Underwood's dead body. How he came by his death I have not the slightest idea. I at once realized the dangerous position I was in and I tried to leave the apartment unobserved. Just as I was going, Underwood's man servant arrived and he handed me over to the police. That's the whole story. I've been here since yesterday and I'll be devil ish glad to get out." "You will get out," she cried. "I'm doing everything possible to get you free. I've been trying to get the best lawyer in the country-Richard Brew ster." "Richard Brewster!" exclaimed How ard. "He's my father's lawyer." "I saw your father yesterday after noon," she said quietly. "You did!" he exclaimed, surprised. "Was he willing to receive you?" "He had to," she replied. "I gave him a piece of my mind." Howard looked at her in mingled amazement and admiration. That she should have dared to confront a man as proud and obstinate as his father astounded him. "What did he say?" he asked eag erly. "I asked him to come publicly to your support and to give you legal assistance. He refused, saying he could not be placed in a position of condoning such a crime and that your behavior and your marriage had made him wash his hands of you forever." Tears filled Howard's eyes and his mouth quivered. "Then my father believes me guilty of this horrible crime?" he exclaimed. "He insisted that you must be guilty, as you had confessed. He offered, though, to give you legal assistance, but only on one condition." "What was that condition?" he de manded. "That I consent to a divorce," re plied Annie quietly. "What did you say?" "I said I'd consent to anything if it would help you, but when he told me that even then he would not come per sonally to your support I told him we would worry along without his as sistance. On that I left him." "You're a brave little woman!" cried Howard. Noticing her pale, anx ious face, he said: "You, too, must have suffered." "Oh, never mind me," she rejoined quickly. "What we must do now is to get you out of this horrid place and clear your name before the world. We must show that your alleged confes sion is untrue; that it was dragged from you involuntarily. We must find that mysterious woman who came to Underwood's rooms while you lay on the couch asleep. Do you know what my theory is, Howard?" "What?" demanded her husband. "I believe you were hypnotized into making that confession. I've read of such things before. You know the boys in college often hypnotized you. You told me they made you do all kinds of things against your will. That big brute, Capt. Clinton, simply forced his will on yours." "By Jove-I never thought of that!" he exclaimed. "I know my head ached terribly after he got through all that questioning. When he made me look at that pistol I couldn't resist any more. But how are we going to break through the net which the po lice have thrown around me?" "By getting the best lawyer we can procure. I shall insist on Judge Brew ster taking the case. He declines, but I shall go to his office again this after noon. He must-" Howard shook his head. "You'll not be able to get Brewster. He would never dare offend my father by taking up my case without his per mission. He won't even see you." "We'll see," she said quietly. "He'll see me if I have to sit in his office all day for weeks. I have decided to have Judge Brewster defend you be cause I believe it would mean ac quittal. He will build up a defense that will defeat all the lies that the police have concocted. The police have a strong case because of your alleged confession. It will take a strong law yer to fight them." Earnestly she added: "Howard, if your life is to be saved we must get Judge Brewster." "All right, dear," he replied. "I can only leave it in your hands. I know that whatever you do will be for the best. I'll try to bP as patient as I can. My oily comn..rt is thinking of you, dear." A heavy step resounded in the corri dor. The keeper came up. "Time's up, m'm," he said civilly. Annie thrust her hand through the bars; Howard carried it reverently to his lips. "Good-by, dear," she said. "Keep up your courage. You'll know that I am working for your release every moment. I won't leave a stone un 'turned." "Good-by, darling," he murmured. He looked at her longingly and there were tears in her eyes as she turned away. "I'll be back very soon," she said. A few minutes later they were in the elevator and she passed through the big steel gate once more into the sunlight street. CHAPTER XIV. Outwardly, at least, Judge Brew ster's offices at 83 Broadway in no way differed from the offices of ten thousand other lawyers who strive to eke out a difficult living in the most overcrowded of all the professions. They consisted of a modest suite of rooms on the sixth floor. There was a small outer office with a railed-off inclosure, behind which sat a half dozen stenographers busy copying legal documents; as many men clerks were writing at desks, and the walla were fitted with shelves filled with ponderous law books. In one corner was a room with glass door marked "Mr. Brewster, Private." Assuredly no casual visitor could guess from the appearance of t'se place that this was the headquarters of one of the most brilliant legal minds in the country, yet in this very office had been prepared some of the most sensational victories ever re corded in the law courts. Visitors to Judge Brewster's office were not many. A man of such re nown was naturally expensive. Few could afford to retain his services, and in fact he was seldom called upon except to act in the interest of wealthy corporations. In these oases, of course, his fees were enormous.. He had very few private clients; in fact, he declined much private practice that was offered to him. He had been the legal adviser of Howard Jeffries, Sr., for many years. The two men had known each other in their younger days and practically had won success together-the one in the banking business, the ;other in the service of the law. An im portant trust company, of which Mr. Jeffries was president, was constantly involved in all kinds of litigation of which Judge Brewster had exclusive charge. As the lawyer found this highly remunerative, it was only nat ural that he had no desire to lose Mr. Jeifries as a client. Secluded in his private office, the judge was busy at his desk, finishing a letter. He folded it up, addressed an envelope, then lit a cigar and looked at the time. It was three o'clock. The day's work was about over and he smiled with satisfaction as he thought of the automobile ride in the park he would enjoy before dressing and going to his club for din ner. He felt in singularly good spir its that afternoon. He had just won in the court a very complicated case which meant not only a handsome ad dition to his bank account, but a signal triumph over his legal oppo nents. Certainly, fortune smiled on him. He had no other immediate cases on hand to worry about. He could look forward to a few weeks of absolute rest. He struck a bell on his desk and a clerk entered. Handing him the note he had just written, he said: "Have this sent at once by mes senger." "Very well, judge," answered the clerk. "By the by," frowned the lawyer, "has that woman been in to-day?" "Yes-she sat in the outer office all morning, trying to see you. We said you were out of town, but she did not believe it. She sat there till she got tired. She had no idea that you went out by another stairway." "Humph," growled the lawyer; "a nice thing to be besieged in this man. ner. If she annoys me much longer, I shall send for the police." At that moment another clerk en tered the room. "What is it, Mr. Jones?" demanded the lawyer. "A lady to see you, judge," said the clerk, handing him a card. The lawyer glanced at the bit of pasteboard, and said immediately: "Oh, yes, show her in." The two clerks left the room and Judge Brewster, after a glance in the mirror to re-adjust his cravat, turned to greet his visitor. The door opened and Alicia enterec(. She was faults lessly gowned, as usual, but her man ner was flurried and agitated. Evi dently something had happened to up set her, and she had come to make her husband's lawyer the confidant of her troubles. The judge advanced gallantly and pointed to a chair. "Good morning, my dear Mrs. Jef fries; how do you do?" "Is Mr. Jeifries here?" asked Allicia hurriedly. "Not yet," he replied, smiiliDg, "This is an unexpected pleasure. I think it is the first time you have graced my office with your presence." "How quiet it is here!" she ex claimed, looking around nervously, "It is hard to believe this is the very center of the city," Taking the seat offered to her, she went on: "Oh, judge, we are dreadfully wosn rned." (TO BE CONTINUJED.) Could Do Better. The lecture was on the economics of nature and showed that her great destructive poweers- were used only to transform the elements into other channels. "To illustrate," said the professor, "there is in one of the Pacific islands a volcano which has for 16 years been pouring molten lava into the ocean over a precipice 400 feet high and eleven miles long. Eggs are boiled in the open sea 22 miles away." "My goodness!" cried a femiuine voice in the audience, "what a big pan and what a waste of fire and water and fuss over a little plain cookingi" CDONFHUNTING ON DECLINE Owners of Trees Object to Destruc tion of Property and Sport Is Al. most a Thing of the Past. Coon hunting is on the decline over in southern Indiana, according to a report from Owensville, because the farmers and land owners have be come timber conservationists and re fuse to allow their trees to be cut. It used to be that a coon hunt was not a success unless the coon was treed in a monarch of the forest, the tree subsequently being cut down by the ready axes of the hunters to ef fect the capture of the game. In days when timber was plentiful the land owners were not so particular, and it was not uncommon for a hunting par ty to chop down half a dozed fine trees in a single night. The hunting party that would commit such tres pass nowadays probably would find it self in serious trouble with the courts. For trees such as the coon hunters used to cut now have a big market value. They are growing scarcer all the time and the wise land owner is realizing the necessity of husbanding his resources in the timber line. "In the good old days" an incalcula ble amount of good timber was de stroyed in this way. It was not missed at the time, for trees grew almost everywhere, and lumber was not so much of an item as it is at present. The forests had to go in order to blaze the way for agricultural devel opment. There was no especial de mand for timber, and vast areas of it were cut down and burned, that the land owner might prepare for growing corn or tobacco. Much of this timber might have been saved if the farmer had cleared his land on any sys tematic plan, and would have made him independent in his later years. He did not realize the importance of conservation, so he cut and slashed indiscriminately, and the coon hunt ers helped him, along with the hickory nut hunters, the chestnut hunters, the grape gatherers, the seekers after slippery elm bark and a great variety of hunters engaged in denuding the wooded lands of their Droducts. It is well that the farmers of south ern Indiana and the farmers else where are beginning to take notice of the conservation movement. If the coon hunter must needs chase coons let him catch them on the level or climb the tree for his booty.-Louis' ville Courier-Journal. Passing of Tact. Tact, once a bright star in the dia dem of virtue, has sunk into disrepute and oblivion. It is incompatible with modernity. Our blunt celerity and unawervable momentum permit no re finement of method, no Chesterfieldian frills. Formerly when a man wished to keep his seat in a crowded car he tact fully held his newspaper before him or fixed his steadfast gaze upon an imaginary dog fight two blocks back. Now he just sits, upon his face the brazen, unapologetic spirit of the twentieth century. Formerly when a man wished, to take a bribe he tactfully went through a heartrending struggle. He took out his conscience, looked it over in a kindly way, fondled it, talked to it softly and finally convinced it that a bribe was the best thing for it. In actually receiving the bribe he tact fully made it plain to the bribe-giver that he considered it not a bribe, but a legal and moral emolument for pa triotic services rendered. Nowadays whatever conscience he may have left is packed in moth balls in an upstairs closet, and he proceeds on the doc trine that the only thing wrong about a bribe is getting caught. Nature Student. "The bat, when winter comes," said a nature student, "folds his long ears against his sides, shuts off his heart, and, hanging head down from some black corner of barn or smoke house, hibernates till spring. In March he begins to wake up. "Lizards and snakes hibernate un derground. Frogs hibernate in the frozen mud at the bottom of their ponds. It's nothing to them that they freeze stiff. A frog so stiff frozen in February that you could break him like a soda cracker will thaw out in a warm March as chipper as you please. "Rats and mice don't hibernate. They come indoors. They leave their cold fields and sewers, and they take up their quarters in our nice, warm, steam heated houses. There it's jolly -plenty to eat, no snow, no sleet, no piercing March winds. The winter season makes no difference to the rats and mice, save that, while al ways marrying and giying in mar riage, they marry and give in mar riage more than ever in our comfort able houses, rearing, at our expense and on our food, litters that in their vast numbers would content even a rat Roosevelt." Summer's Bath In Chicago. While the weather was infernally hot last summer a patrolman on the beat in the neighborhood of Forty seventh street and Ashland avenue found a man-a citizen, to be exact in police lingo-splashing in a horse trough. He was up to his neck and as much at home as a trout. "Here," said the regulator of the peace. "Don't you know that this is against the law?" "No, I do not." "Well, it is. Come on out. If yoe lon't go right into the house and put on your clothes I shall have to look you up." "Give me five minutes more of this and you can do anything you want with me."-Chicago Post. TRIUMPH FOR WRITER 'LASH OP THOUGHT SAVED THE SITUATION. Frederick Upham Adams Turned Joke on 0. H. P. Belmont, Being Helped Somewhat by His Experience as a Novelist. Table sagacity is not invariably con. fined to picking out the right fork or spoon or to tilting either at the prop er angle, writes Drury Underwood in the Chicago Post. A fledgling diner out, theoretically, may keep up a con versation with his designated compan ion and also an eager eye on a model across the way. A merely casual hesi tancy will allow him to stall until he sees what weapon to choose for the fish. The chances for the majority of us to decide what to do in an emergency, are remote, but are to be considered. Place yourself in the situation of Fred erick Upham Adams at Newport. Mr. Adams had accepted an invi* tation from the 0. H. P. Belmonts the male one, to be exact-and after a Scotch overture luncheon was an. nounced. "Grizzly," said 0. H. P., "Mrs. Stuy vesant Fish is to lunch with us, but that need not make any difference." "Certainly not," said Gris. "Nobody can make me unhappy." The meal proceeded smoothly, with the assistance of an assortment of butlers and a waiter for each person, but there was a crisis ahead. The doors of the serving room flew open and a flunky came in, staggering under an imposing dish. It was a cas tle constructed of meats, with a wall of jelly and a moat of rice. There were parapets and towers and a port cullis;. likewise a porte cochere, but this probably was a gastronomic ana chronism. Mr. Adams never batted an eye, be' cause, being a novelist, he had to be familiar with such scenes for a proper standing in fiction. He had a tricky host to deal with, however, for 0. H. P. indicated by a glance that the open spot in front of Mr. Adams' plate was to be the terminal for the pie. Grizzly looked in vain for the sign of a mistake. Instead there was con firmation in the stony eyes of 0. H. P. There was nothing for him to do but to proceed. He recalled "Ivanhoe" and the carrying of the castle by as' sault, but in brief reflection saw that the dismantling of the wall would be to undo the work of some chef, who, in all likelihood, had put in two or three days on the job. So he disen gaged a rampart of ham without pull ing down the structure and removed a chicken tower flying a flag of carved radish. Then O H. P. relaxed and gave a momentary gleam of approval. "It was the quickest thought of my life," said Mr. Adams in review of the Incident as he ordered pork shanks. Tears In the Contract. A southern lawyer has gained state wide repute for his success in pleading criminal cases. His claim to fame is that he sheds real tears while urging Juries to save his innocent clients, and the clause "No tears, no pay!" is a part of every contract he makes. He had a case not long ago that seemed easy on the start, but devel oped later into a most difficult one. Not long after he had turned on the tears the attorney had 11 of the jury weeping also. One stony-hearted juror sat and glared at him. Tears had no effect on him. The attorney redoubled his efforts and his tears. He devoted himself entirely to this adamant juror. Tears splashed from his eyes and dewed his whiskers and his waisteoat. He talked eloquently and cried still more eloquently. Presently the set features of the determined juror re laxed a bit. Brushing away most of the tears the attorney turned his back to the juror and bent down to get a glass of water. As he stooped he whispered to his law partner, who sat near him: "John, I've never lost one yet! That darned old sucker can't hold out two minutes more." And he didn't.-Saturday Evening Post. Don't Talk About Your Troubles. Learn to keep your own affairs locked up in your heart, but be will. ing to listen to others' sorrows. That's the way to do. There is no use in the world in harping on the crazy tear-making events of life. Be patient with the faults of oth ers and be patient with your own. But don't talk about the worries and trials of everyday existence. There is no sense in that at all. It is a tremendous waste of energy. No one wants to hear about individual troubles. Constant talking about one's troubles is a sure path to chronic fault finding, bickering, and family rows that cause more misery than anything else on earth. And what good does the talking do? The sym pathy you get doesn't amount to a row of pins. Individuals of the right sort resent being pitied. Don't be a sympathy beggar. Smiles lead you back to youth, tears drag you quickly to old age. A Truthful Girl. "I am very sorry, Captain Snobb, that circumstances over which I save no control compel me to say io." "May I ask what the circumstances are?" "Yours."-Lippincott'a.