Newspaper Page Text
I#" Tri-Weekly Courier »v the courier printing CO' Pounded August 3, 1848. M«mb«r at the Lee Newspaper •.'• ByndloAt*. WL W. XJDB .«.. Founder Ja*. r. PdWBLL ^SXSK? J. K. DOUGHERTY. .Btanagtog Editor sssw llrCourter, ynr, by mail •••*^22 WHUy Courier. year Offleet 117-11* Eut Second Street. Telephone, Bell (editorial or bualnew •«c«) No. 44. If Mr. Kohlsaat's informant gave $10,000 to a fund to. elect Lorimer th« informant. is a crook and his confi dences are not worthy of being re spected. THE MAN FROM THE SMALL TOWN "An advertisement, appearing in one of the Chicago papers, and aimed at the candidacy of Charles E. Merriam, has a highly amusing aspect," says the .Cedar Rapids Gazette. "The ad attempts to prove that Merriam is in competent because he is a product of a little town in Iowa. It recites that until seven years ago Merriam was a resident of Hopkinton, Iowa, a village of 816 people, including the children that it 'requires no more ability to run Hopkinton than it does to be a grocer's clerk While Chicago Is a city of millions, with stupendous problems, a great yearly expenditure of money and a vast army of munici pal employes. "Wonder if the author of such an argument—heaven save the mark really takes himself seriously. "If he does, wonder does he think the country made a big mistake when The i4 New telephone, buelneea offloe «. ••W telephone, editorial office 147. Addreea the Courier Printing Com panjr, Ottumwa, Iowa. Xntered as eeeond claae roa"* October IT, 190S, at the poBtoltlce. Ot tumwa, Iowa, under the Act of Con BM»| ot March S, 187». MR. KOHLSAAT'S DI3CL08URE8. The stand taken by Publisher Kohl Baat in refusing to divulge the name of the jnan who told him that $100,000 had been raised to elect Lorimer seems to be perfectly proper when viewed at one angle, and more or less questionable when viewed at another. Mr. Kohlsaat's reasons for refusing to divulge the name of his informant was that he would not violate a confidence. He would discharge any employe, he said, who violated a confidence secured in a professional capacity. What is generally meant when a reporter violates a confidence, however, is printing anything about the matter he gained in confidence. This moves a great many newspaper men to avoid strenuously the'man* who has some thing to tell him "in confidence" and to look for the man who will tell him something he can print. This case seems to be something en tirely different, however. When Mr. Kohlsaat secured this information he used'it'as the basis of editorials in which he demanded an investigation of the Lorjmer case. A reporter securing certain knowledge in confidence feels bound by this confidence not to refer to the matter, in any way. By publish ing the information he secures and only witholding the name of the per son who gave him the information he Is partly violating that confidence. Then there is another side to this Lorimer case—the public's side. The people have a right to know if any such a fund as $100,000' was raised to elect Lorimer, and have a right to know who subscribed to this fund. If there was such a fund raised and Lori mer was elected by means of this fund, then the men who subscribed to it are as guilty as Lorimer and White and the other men who confessed to re ceiving bribes. it picked up Abe Lincoln, with his coun trified experience, and placed him in the white house? There seems to he however, many people in Chicago •who believe that Merriam Is just the man for the mayor's chair they prob ably figure that he has the character that the city's executive head needs that out here in the pure air of Iowa Is a good place to grow mayors that Merriam may reduce the expenses of government and keep gray wolves at a distance from the city treasury. "Of course the problem is Chicago's its voters are the ones who decide who shall be mayor. But when at attempt is made to heap ridicule upon a can didate who was a' resident of Iowa un til seven years ago, and who lived in a small town, comment is impelled, and that comment includes the obser vation that the author of such argu ment is a fool." INCOME TAX BLOCKED. «By a vote of 82 to 63 the lowe* house of the Maine legislature on Tuesday refused to ratify the income tax amendment to tLe federal con stitution, says the Sioux City Journal. "This means that for the present the Income tax amendment is blocked. •The opposition of twelve states was required to block the adoption of the amendment, and Maine was the twelfth state to give formal expres sion to its opposition. The other states which have rejected the amend ment are: Louisiana, Massachusetts. New York, Rhode Island, and Virginia in 1910 Arkansas, New Hampshire. tJtah, Vermont, West Virginia and New Jersey in 1911. "If the twelve states now opposed to the amendment stand pat in that attitude the amendment cannot be come effective until after the admis sion of Arizona and New Mexico. In £l total of forty-eight states it would require thirteen negative votes to de feat ratification. However, It is" likely that before the close of the pres ent legislative session a' least fourteen states will have been recorded in the negative. The states which have not yet act^S *ore way or the other are Connecticut, Delewnre. Florida, Min nesota, Nevada. North Carolina, North Dakota^ #»Einsylvania, Teuuessee, 7 (CHAPTER III.—Continued.) "Indeed!" I said, properly thunder struck. I was surprised. I had always believed that only the use of the fourth dimension in space would enable any one, not desired, to gain access to the Maitland house. "Of money?" "Not money, although I had a good bit in the house." This also I knew. It was said of Miss Letitia that when money came into her possession it went out of circulation. "Not—the pearls?" I asked. She answered by question with an other. "When you had those pearls ap praised for me at the jewelers last year how many were there?" "Not quite one hundred. I think— yes, ninety-eight." "Exactly," she corroborated, in triumph. "They belonged to my mother Margery's mother got some of them. That's a good many years ago, young man. They are worth more than they were then—a great deal more." "Twenty-two thousand dollars. I repeated. "You remember. Miss Letitia, that I protested vigorously at the time against your keeping them in the house." Miss Letitia ignored this, but before she went on she repeated again her cat like pouncing at the door, only to find the hall empty as before. This time when she sat down it was knee to knee with me. "Yesterday morning," she said gravely. "I got down the box they have always been kept in the small safe in the top of my closet. When Jane found a picture of my niece, Margery Fleming, in Harry's room, I thought it likely there was some truth in the gossip Jane heard about the two, and—if there was going to be a wed ding -why, the pearls were to go to Margery anyhow. But—I found the door of the safe,-unlocked and a little bit open—and ten of the pearls were gone!" "Gone!" I echoed. "Ten of them Why, it's ridiculous! If ten, why not the whole ninety-eight?" "How do I know?" she replied with asperity. "That's what I keep a law yer for that's why I sent for you." For the second time in two days I protested the same thing. "But you need a detective," I cried. If you can find the thief I will he glad to send hem 'where he ought to be, but I couldn't find him." "I will not have the police," she per sisted inflexibly. "They will come around asking impertinent questions, and telling the newspapers that a fool ish old woman, had got what she de 86rv6d." "Then you are going to send them to a bank-?" "You have less sense than I thought, Washington, Wisconsin and Wyoming. Delaware and Pennsylvania are con fidently expected to oppose the amend ment, and possibly there are others in the waiting list that may reject or fail to ratify. "While the amendment seems to have been chloroformed for the pres ent, there is no immediate danger of death. Even if fifteen or sixteen states should go on record in opposi tion there would remain a chance that succeeding legislatures might reverse the refusal. There is no time limit for ratification. If at any'time with in the next few years a three-fourths majority can be mustered for ratifica tion the amendment may become ef fective. There is ho. that the demo cratic legislature in New York may reverse the republican rejection made under the advice of Gov. Hughes. And there are other states in which the case may result differently on a re hearing." Mason City used the voting ma chine in one of the wards at the city election Monday, and the Times-Ga zette of that clty has the following to say concerning its operation: "The voting machine had a practical test in the city election Monday and won out by a big majority. The machine was used in the fourth ward and the judges of election state that there was very little difficulty encountered in the proper use of the machine by the average voter. As the result the full re turns from the fourth ward were known fifteen minutes after the polls closed, but the full returns from the other wards were not known till nearly midnight. The moral is plain." The Chicago campaign Is warming up. Candidate Merriam yesterday re ferred to Col. JameB Hamilton Lewis, of pink whiskers fame, who is one of the leading Carter Harrison suppor ters, as "the greatest clown of the century." Mr, Lewis counters by re ferring to Merriam as "the chirping sparrow of John D. Rockefeller's attic." "Jimmy Garfield was in Iowa re cently and expressed himself as, being scared to death over the outlook for the country," says the Burlington Gazette. "The country has been go ing to the dogs rapidly since Taft re fused to reappoint Jimmy secretary of the interior." The Des Moines Tribune believes that if it is necessary to win Senator Young may go so far as to kiss every baby in Iowa's ninety-nine counties before the 1912 primary rolls around. If you have got through this far without kicking the brick under the plug hat you may finish April fool's day witli a clean slate. There's still a chance, however, of faU'nar for -the loaded cigar. www$' 'W^' at The White Cat By Mary Roberts-Rinehart' Copyright 1910 The Bobbs-MerriU Company she snapped. "I am going to leave them where they arte, and watch. Who ever took ten will be back for more, mark my words." "I don't advise It," I said decidedly. "You have most of them now, and you might easily lose them all not only that, but it is not safe for you or your sister." "Stuff and nonsense!" the old lady said, with spirit. "As for Jane, she doesn't even know they are gone. 1 know who did it. It was the new housemaid, Belle MacKenzie. Nobody else could get in. I lock up the house myself at night, and I'm in the habit of doing a pretty thorough job of it. They went in the last three weeks, for I counted them Saturday three weeks ago myself. The only persons in the house in that time, except ourselves, were Harry, Belle and Hepsibah, the house, who's been here for forty years and wouldn't know a pearl from a pickled onion." "Then—what do you want me to do?" I asked. "Have Bella arreste'l and her trunk searched?" I felt myself shrinking in the old lady's esteem every minute., "Her trunk!" she said scornfully. "I turned it inside out this morning, pretending I thought she was stealing the laundry soap. Like as not she has them buried in the vegetable garden. What I want you to do is to atay here for three or four nights, to be on hand. When I catch the thief, I want my lawyer right by.' telephoned to Fred that I would not be home, listened for voices and de cided Margery Fleming had gone to bed. Miss Jane lighted me to the door of the guest room, and saw that every thing was comfortable. Her thin gray curls bobbed as she examined the water pitcher, saw to the towels, and felt the bed linen for dampness. At the door she stopped and turned aroui timidly. "Has—has anything happened to disturb my sister?" she asked. "She —has been almost Irritable all day." Almost! "She is worried about her colored orphans," I evaded. "She does not ap prove of fireworks for them on the fourth of July." Miss Jane was satisfied. I watched her little, old black-robed figure go lightly down the hall. Then I bolted the door, opened all the windows, and proceeded to a surreptitious smoke. CHAPTER IV. The windows being wide open, it was not long before a great moth came whirling in. He hurled himself at the light and then, dazzled and singed, began to beat with noisy thumps against the barrier of the ceiling. Find ing no egress there, he was back at the lamp again, whirling in dizzy circles until at last, worn out, he dropped to the table, where he lay on his back, kicking impotently. The room began to fill with tiny winged creatures that flung themselves headlong to destruction, so I put out the light and sat down near the win dow, with my cigar and by thoughts. Miss Letitia's troubles 1 dismissed shortly. While it was odd that only ten pearls should have been taken, still—in every other way it bore the marks of-an ordinary thief. The thief might have thought that by leaving the majority of the gems he could postpone discovery indefinitely. But the Flem ing case was of a different order. Taken by itself, Flemings disappear ance could have been easily accounted for. There must be times in the lives of all unscrupulous individuals when they feel the need of retiring tempo rarily from the public eye. But the intrusion into the Fleming home, the ransacked desk and the broken money drawer—most of all, the bit of paper with eleven twenty-two on it—here was a hurdle my legal mind refused to tako. I had finished my /second cigar, and was growing more and more wakeful, when I heard a footstep on the path around the house. It was black out side when I looked out, as I did cautiously, I could not see even the gray-white of 'the cement walk. The steps had ceascd, but there was a sound of fumbling at. one of the shut ters below. The catch clicked twice, as if some instrument was being slip ped underneath to raise it, and once I caught a muttered exclamation. I drew in my head and, puffing my cigar until it was glowing, managed by its light to see, thft it was a quarter to two. When I listened again, the house-breaker had moved to another window, and was shaking it cautiously. With Miss Letitia's story of the pearls fresh in my mind, I felt at once that the thief, finding his ten a prize, had come back for more. My first im pulse was to go to the head of my bed, where I am accustomed to keep a revolver. With the touch of the tall corner post, however, I remembered that I was not at home, and that it. was not likely there was a weapon in the house. Finally, after knocking over an ornament that shattered on the hearth and sounded like the crash of doom, I found on the mantel a heavy brass candlestick, and with it in my hand I stepped into the gloom of the hall way and felt my way to the stairs. There were no night lights the darkness was total. I found the stairs before I expected to, and came within an ace of pitching down, headlong. I had kicked off my shoes—a fact which I regretted later. Once down the stairs I was on more familiar territory. I went at once into the library, which was beneath my room, but t:--. sounds at the window had ceased. I thought I heard steps on the walk, ward the front of the house OTTUMWA COURIER: TUESDAY, APRIL 4, 1911 quickly and It ended by my consenting, of course. ma^bv^nv^neans, but under the fury Miss Letitia was seldom refused. I started for the door, when something struck me a terrific blow on the nose. I reeled back and sat down, dizzy and shocked. It was only when no second blow followed the first that I realized what had occurred. With my two hands out before me In the blackness, I had groped, one hand on either side pf the open door, which of course I had struck violently with my nose. Afterward I found It had bled considerably, and my collar and tie must have added to nay ghastly ap pearance. My candlestick had rolled under the table, and after crawling around on my hands and knees, I found it, I had lost, I suppose, three or four min utes, and I was raging at my awkward ness and stupidity. No one, however, seemed to have heard the noise. FOr all her boasted watchfulness, Miss Letitia must have been asleep. I got back into the hall and from there to the dining-room. Some one was fumbling at the shutters there, and as I looked they swung open. It was so dark outside, with the trees and the distance from the street, that only the creaking of the shutter told it had opened. I stood in the middle of the room, with one hand firmly clutching my candlestick. But the window refused to move. The burglar seemed to have no proper tools he got something under the sash, but it snapped, and through the heavy plate glass I could hear him swearing. Then he abruptly left the window and made for the front I blundered in the same direction, my unshod feet striking on projecting furniture and causing agonies, even through my excitement. When I reached the front door, however, I was amazed to find it unlopked, and standing open perhaps an inch. I stopped uncertainly. I was in a peculiar position not even the most ardent admirers of antique brass candlesticks indorse them as weapons of offense or defense. But, there seeming to be nothing else to do, I opened the door ,quietly and stepped out into the darkness. of The next instant I was flung heavily am not a small taught I was a child. It was a porch chair, I think, that knocked me senseless I know I folded up like a jack-knife, and that was all I did know for a few minutes. When I came to I was lying where I had fallen, and a candle was burn ing beside me on the porch floor. It took me a minute to remember, and another minute to realize that I was looking into the barrel of a revolver. It occurred to me that I had never seen a more villainous face than that of the man who held it—which shows my state of mind—and that my posi tion was the reverse of comfortable. Then the man behind the gun spoke. "what did you do with that bag?" he demanded, and I felt his knee on my chest. "What bag?" I inquired feebly. My head was jumping and the candle was a volcanic eruption of1 sparks and smoke. "Don't be a fool," the gentleman with the revolver persisted. "If I don't get that 'bag within five minutes, I'll fill you as full of holes as a cheese." "I haven't seen any bag," I said stupidly. "What sort of bag I heard'my own voice, drunk from the shock. "Paper bag, laundry bag—" "You've hidden it in the house," he said, bringing the revolver a little closer with every word. My senses came back with a jerk and I struggled to free myself. "Go in and look," I responded. "Let me up from here, and I'll take you in myself." The man's face was a study in amazement and anger. "You'll take me in! You!" He got up without changing the menacing position of the gun. "You walk in there—here, carry the candle—and take me to that bag. Quick, do you hear?" I was too bewildered to stryggle. I got up dizzily, but when I tried to stoop for the candle I almost'fell on it. My head cleared after a moment, and when I had picked up the. candle I had a good chance to look at my as sailant. He was staring at me, too. He was a young fellow, well dressed and haggard beyond belief. "I don't know anything about a bag," I persisted, "but if you will give me your word there was nothing in it belonging to this house, I will take you in and let you look for it." The next moment he had lowered the revolver and clutched my arm. "Who in the devil's name are you?" he asked wildly. I think the thing dawned on us both at the same moment. "My name is Knox," I said coolly, feeling for my handkerchief—my head was bleeding from a cut over the ear —"John Knox." "Knox!" Instead of showing relief, his manner showed greater consterna tion than ever. He snatched the candle from me, and, holding it up, searched my face. "Then—good God—where is my traveling-bag?" "I have something in my head where vou hit me," I said. "Perhaps that is it." But my sarcasm was lost on him. "I am Harry Wardrop," he said, and I have been robbed, Mr. Knox. I was trying to get into the house with out waking the family, and when 1 cvne back here to the front door where I had left my valise, it was gone. I thought you were the thief when you came out, and—we've lost all this time. Somebody has followed me and robbed me!" "What was in the bag?" I.asked, stepping to edge of the porch and looking around, with the help of the candle. "Valuable papers," he said shortly. He seemed to be dazed and at a loss what to do next. We had both instinc tively kept our voices low. "You are certain you left it here? I asked. The thing looked incredible •in the quiet and peace of that neigh borhood. "Where you are standing." Once more I began a desultory search, going down the steps and look ina amone the cannas that bordered nt*w $ $ $ r-v 1 discovered a small brown leather trav eling-bag, apparently quite new. "Here It is," I said, not so gracious as I 'might have been I had suffered considerably for that traveling-bag. The sight of it restored Wardrop'B poise at once. His twitching features relaxed. "By Jove, I'm glad to feee it," he said. "I can't explain, but—tremendous things were depending on that bag, Mr. Knox. I don't know how to apolo gize to you I must have nearly brained you." "You did," I said grimly,. and gave him the bag. The moment he took It I knew there was something wtong he hurried into the house and lighted the library lamp.. Then he opened the traveling-bag with shaking fingers. It was empty! He stood for a moment staring in credulously into it. Then he hurled it down on the table and turned on me, as I stood beside him. "It's a trick!" he said furiously "You've hidden it somewhere. This is not my bag. You've substituted one just like it." Don't be a fool!" I retorted. "How could I substitute an empty satchel for yours when up to fifteen minutes ago I had never seen you or your grip either? Use a little common sense. Some place tonight you have put down that bag, and some clever thief has substituted a similar one. It's an old trick." He dropped Into a chair and buried his face In his hands. "It's impossible," he said, after a pause, while he seemed to be going over, minute by minute, the events of the night. "I was followed, as far as that goes, in Plattsburg. Two men watched me from the minute I got there, on Tuesday I changed my hotel, and for all*of yesterday—Wed nesday, that is—I felt secure enough. But on my way to the train I felt that I was under surveillance again, and by turning quickly I came face'to face with one of the men." "Would you know him?" I asged. "Yes. I thought he was a detective you know I've had a lot of that sort of thing lately, with election coming on. He didn't get on the train, however." "But the other one may have done so." "Yes, the other one may. The thing I don't understand is this, Mr. Knox. When we drew in at Bellwood station I distinctly remember opening the bag and putting my newspaper and rail road schedule inside. It was the right bag then my clothing was In it and my brushes." I had been examining the empty bag as he talked. "Where did you put your railroad schedule?" I asked. "In.the leather pocket at the side." "It is here," I said, drawing out the yellow folder. For a moment my com panion looked almost haunted. He pressed his hands to his head and be gan to pace the room like a crazy man! "The whole thing Is impossible. I tell you, that valise was heavy when I walked up from th§ station. I changed it from one hand to the other because of the weight. When I got here I set it "down on the edge of the pbrch and tried the door. When I found it locked—" "But It wasn't locked," I brok6 In. "When I came down-stairs to look for a burglar, I found it open at least an inch." He stopped in his pacing up and down, and looked at me curiously. "We're both crazy, then," he assert ed gravely. "I. tell you I tried every •way I knew to unlock that door, and could hear the chain rattling. Un locked! You don't know the way this house Is fastened up at night." "Nevertheless, it was unlocked when I came down." We were so engrossed that neither of us had heard steps on the stairs. The sound of a smothered exclamation from the dOorway caused us both to turn suddenly. Standing there, in a loosd gown of some sort, very much surprised and startled, was Margery Fleming. Wardrop pulled himself to gether at once. As for me, I khew what sort of figure I cut, my collar stained with blood, a lump on my forehead that felt as big as a door-knob, and no shoes. "What is the matter?" she asked un certainly. "I heard such queer noises, and I thought some one had broken into the house." "Mr. Wardrop was trying to break In," I.explained, "and I heard him and came down. On the way I had a bloody encounter with an open door, in which I came out loser." I don't think1 she quite believed me. She looked from my swollen head to the open bag, and then to Wardrop's pale face. Then I think, woman-like, she remembered the two great braids that hung over her sliouldefs and the dressing gown she wore, fcJr she backed precipitately into the hall. "I'm glad that's all it is," she called back cautiously, and we could hear her running up the stairs'. "You'd bettter go to bed," Wardrop said, picking up his hat. "I'm- going down to the station. There's no train out of here between midnight and a flag train at four-thirty a. m. It's not likely to be of any use, but I .want £o see who goes on that train." "It Is only half-past two," I said, glancing at my watch. "We plight look around outside first." The necessity for actlbn made him welcome any suggestion. Reticent as he was, his feverish excitement made me think that something vital hung on the recovery of the contents of that Russia leather bag. We found a lantern somewhere in the back of the house, and together We went over the grounds. It did not take long, and we found nothing. As I look back on that night, the key to what had passed and to much that was coming was so simple, so direct— and yet we missed it entirely. Nor, when bigger things developed, and Hunter's trained senses were brought into play, did he do much better. It ,was some time before we learned the true inwardness of the events of that night At five o'clock in the morning War drop came back exhausted and nerve less. No one had taken the four-thirty: the contents of the bag were gone, probably beyond recall. I put my dent ed candle-stick back on the mantel, and prepared for a little sleep, blessing 4 "THAT YE BE NOT JUDGED." There is a little old verse, worthy of the name' not because of its poetic value, but because of the sense it carries, which runs something like this: There's so much good in the worst of us, And so much bad in the best of us, I I That it little behooves any of us To speak ill of the rest of us. Maybe that is not the original text, but it will serve the purpose, for it is not the purpose here to quote it as a classic gem, but as advice. The fact is that it is more truthful than most maxims, and they nearly all carry a great kernel of truth. No matter how low a man or woman may sink, though they slink along the pathways and devious turnings of the underworld, though respectability, honor, honesty, virtue, even hope, be forever lost to them, they never sink so low, but that sometime, somewhere, somehow, their better natures long since smothered underneath overwhelming loads of vice, weakness or despair, rise to the surface and display themselves in a most unex pected and surprising manner. On the other hand, no matter how high a man or woman may rise no matter to what pinnacles of fame they may attain no matter how blameless and spotless the lives they live, somewhere, somehow, sometime, weakness or passion, some inherent long-subjected vice or desire will get the better of their higher natures and they will commit some crime or do some evil which will shock the world by the unexpectedness of its source. It was a harlot who washed the feet of Christ with sin-brought tears. It was one of the chosen twelve who be trayed him and committed the supreme crime of history. through it all. I tried to forget the queer events of throbbing of my head kept me awake, and through it truded It is strange but true that we hear little of the bad deeds of good men and almost nothing of the good deeds of bad men. However, those adjectives give the lie to themselves. There are no wholly bad men. There are no wholly good men. There are men who have more bad in their natures than good and there are those who have more good than bad. There are also men who have the name of being good and those who have the name of being bad. It was of these two last classes that we spoke in the preceding sentences. One-half of the world knows but little of the evil in' the life of the other half, and practically nothing of" the good the other half knows a great deal of the evil in the lives of the first half and nothing at all of the! good. But the last half, (the so-called underworld) tells nothing of the good part of its life nor of the evil part of the first half's life, while its own evil speaks largely for itself. It has no one to tell it to. There is an inclination in the first half to willingly, almost boldly, tell of the good part of its own life, and, of the evil parts of the life of the other half, while it keeps a soft pedal on any chronology of its weakness,1 and knows nothing to tell, even if it desired to do so, of the goodness of the underworld. But the line is not so distinctly drawn that we may thus cavalierly speak of one-half and of another. By gradual degrees we pass from men and women of spot less and good reputations to men and women of doubt ful and then into the ranks of men and women of evil reputations, without ever crossing a firmly drawn and definite line of separation. Of the true worth of men and women, only the power which seeth beneath the surface, that reads not books and papers but the minds and souls of humanity knows. Some day the veil may be drawn away and we I may see clearly where now there, is naught but colored windows and darkened glasses. Then we may know men and women. Now we know but reputations. And all of this but leads us in the eternal circle, with no definite conclusion except an emphasis upon the old, old admonition: "Judge not, that ye be not. judged." :'v •v.ViV^r the night, but the all one question ob- itsejf—who bad unlocked the front door and left it open? CHAPTER V. I was almost unrecognizable when I looked at myself in the mirror the next morning, preparatory to dressing for breakfast. My nose boasted a new arch, like the back of an angry cat, making my profile Roman and fero cious, and the lump on my forehead from the chair was swollen, glassy and purple. I turned my back to the mirror and dressed in wrathful irrita tion and my yesterday's linen. Miss Fleming was In the breakfast room when I got down, standing at a window, her back to me. I have carried with me, during all the months since that time, a mental picture of her as she stood there, in a pink morning frock of some sort. But only the other day having mentioned this to her, she assured me that the frock was blue, and that she didn't have a pink gar ment at the time this story opens and that if she did she positively didn't have it on. And having thus flouted my eye for color, she maintains that she did not have her back to me, for she distinctly saw my newly-raised bridge when I came down the stairs. So I amend this. Miss Fleming in a blue frock was facing the door, when I came into the breakfast room. Of one tffc mm n'L 'I t11111 'J If" -v "i /-i ^vi Good morning," she said. "What a terrible face!" "It isn't mine," I replied meekly. "My own face is beneath these ex crecences. I tried to cover the bump on my forehead with French chalk, but it only accentuated the thing, like snow on a mountain top." "'The purple peaks of Darien,'" she quoted, pouring me my coffee. "Do you know, I feel so much better since you have taken hold of things. Aunt Letitia thinks you are wonder ful." I thought ruefully of the failure of my first attempt to play the sleuth, and I disclaimed any right to Miss Le titia's high opinion of me. From my dogging the watchman to the police station to Delia and her note, was a short mental step. "Before any one comes down. Miss Fleming," I said, "I want to ask a question or two. What was the name of the maid who helped you search the house that night." "Annie." "What other maids did you say there were?" "Delia and Rose." "Do you know anything about them? Where they came from, or where they went?" '-r She smiled a little. "What does one know about new servants?" she responded. "They bring you references, but references are the price most women pay to get rid of their servants without a fuss. Rose was fat and old, but Delia was pretty. I thr-*bt she rather liked Carter.'* & be Continued.) 3 3 if r-r.'.V a -.A nury & •I gt lit .k Mi1 SI?!' -1 X-m S®.' If W-.Lv -••••$ -1 -. •.