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I October 17, 1I0S, at the postoffl^ oi
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WHAT TO SAT IN SUMMER.
Who editor of American Medicine
disagrees with the dietestlsts who tell
us .tye should eat less in hot weather.
nHe believes to do this is as foolish as
try to run-a steamship on less coal
tin'the summer than in the winter.
if'Some of the dietetlsts." he says, tell
wo should teat regularly three times
lay, others say eat only when hun
one says oat no breakfast, another
irises that breakfast be the main
Sal of th© day. One thinks we are
l<hlest on meat, while others find
idietetic millennium in fruits and
its and others—but we haven't
iace to give the thousand other ab
The medical writer continues:
"The need of good nutrition i.i the
opics "has been accepted as a mat
of course by those who have in
vestigated the subject first hand, yet
I# is amazing that text books still re
peat the old baseless dogma that trop
ical residents should cut down the
diet, particularly the proteids.
"Hans Aron of the Philippine Medi
cal school, by careful, painstaking in
vestigation of native diets, shows that
las a matter of fact the nitrogen and
'number of calories are practically the
same as in cooler climates, when the na
tive is not starved by poverty. Conse
iuently, in man, who varies his pro
iction by clothing there is not a
marked difference in his combiistion in
he north when he retains body heat or
liv^the tropics where he radiates it. In
the clothing there is a tropical
Jperature after all. As an actual
of observation Malayas and
Iffopeans in the tropics use practical
/the same amouht of oxygen as Euro
Jans in cold weather in Europe. Cut
fng down the diet therefore means
"Aron also shows that the nitrogen
Ltake is practically the same per kilo
(am of body weight, making due al
wance for work done. In time at may
I possible to purge dietetics of its
jnsense, but from the, way present
ilusions are kept up it will be a very
-v "Diet in hot weather is another sub
iec on which there are dangerous pop
ilar and professional delusions. With
ut the slightest evidence the alleged
ixperts are advising people to cut
Jown the diet, irrespective of the
of work done.
"The hard worker must take in as
much fuel in summer as winter or live
on his own tissues. The only man
who can afford to cut his diet is he
who cuts his work with the hot weath
r, and that means only those who can
afford leisure, not the vast majority
Iwhose buBy season is in the summer
^The building trades and many other
utdoor employments shut down in
winter and the laborer needs less food,
like an idle ship at her dock yet our
sxperts tell these idlers to eat- more
limply because it is winter.
tV'To resist infections man must be
nourished, summer or winter,
for busy, and the average healthy
can extract nourishment from al
•S all articles used as foods, if he
gulp them in a hurry, like a dog
•hew them like a cow."
THE TRAMP PROBLEM.
('James Forbes, secretary and direct
Je of the National association for tlie
^revfention of Vagrancy, in an inter
view in the New York Telegraph,
gives some interesting figures relat
ing to the tramp problem. Mr. Forbes
declares that the tramp population
I now numbers 700,000. The tramps cost
'the United States $100,000,000 annu
ally, he says, or, putting it another
[way, one dollar and eighty cents %a_
rear is spent for every man, woman
-and child in the country to maintain
Fthe army of those who will not work.
'Mr. Forbes adds:
"At present Oklahoma is the tramp
paradise. The largest winter exodus
a now .to Oklahoma, Texas and Old
\exlco. The numbers that seelr these
jices are enormous, but it does not
am to remove the burden from the
."•Chicago's vagrant population aver
ts probably about 60,000. Now York
-omes next with, say, 60,000. St. Louis
lis a great place for tramps, and
ap lodging houses of that city will
-ommodate about 10,000. Many
fj»rs camp in the vicinity, and
their fires can be seen along
E Mississippi extending miles from
_.ie city. Buffalo has always been a
'favorite rendezvous for tramps and
shelters possibly 6,000 or 7,000.
"Pittsburg 1b a great clearing cen
ter, harboring 5,000 or 6,000, but as
the city has a reputation for being
hostile, they do not stay long. Denver
runs close to St. Louis, but, like Pitts
burg, it turns a cold shoulder that
keeps the waifs on the move.
"Cities that contain close to 5,000
vagrants are Cincinnati, Cleveland,
For Infant* end Children.
Ziie KN You Han Always Bought
Kansas City, San Francisco, Seattle,
"It is practically impossible to re
form a tramp after he becomes an old
hand. In prisons all over the country
there Is a section known as 'bums'
wing,' because the Inmates cannot be
forced to take part in the labor of the
"If the country is to be free from
the tramp evil, the older generation
must be given life sentences and thus
prevented from making proselyteB to
trainpdom. The younger men could
often be reformed if given a cliance
and made to work.
"Public officers often stimulate
rather than discourage vagrancy.
Where police officers are paid for ar
rests aid convictions, and justices for
commitments, as is the case in a great
many rural districts, it is a common
custom for tramps to make a deal
whereby they receive half the money
by giving themselves up and pleading
guilty. For instance, a tramp goes to
a policeman and agrees to deliver
twelve vagrants Into his charge. The
whole band are in the scheme and
plead guilty. The policeman gets 52
for each conviction, $24 in all, halt of
back to the tramps. They
are given suspended sentences and go
on their way rejoicing. Sometimes
the justice commits them and divides
fee. They are passed
on to the poor warden, who takes
them in at the front door, shoos them
out the back and charges the county
for thirty days' board for each of
"Tramps have been found dead wita
their own commitment papers in their
pockets, given luem by a justice,
whose only Interest was in his fee.
They were then at liberty to have
themselves locked up if they so
"If it were not for
sert men, who have Spent years study
ing the vagrancy problem, the tramp
could be put out of business. Free
transportation is a necessity of the
"The railroads of the country are
fighting trespassers tooth and nail,
but they are by no means successful
through lack of
communities through which they
"The general practice is for each
town to pass the tramps along to
avoid the expense of keeping them.
When the railroad police make ar
rests, they may obtain conviction, but
sentences are suspended, providing
the tramp will get out of town, and
he has to go back to the railroad. If
every community would give long
sentences, all the tramps would be
either in jail, reformed, or out of the
country. At present there may not be
adeouate means for taking care of the
whole army, but certainly a very great
number could be locked up."
NEVER TOO OLD TO LEARN.
Why Is it that certain men labor in
dustriously through youth and early
manhood, rising early and retiring
late, scorning delight and living labor
ious day? in order to fall victim to the
attractions of the first female full of
guile who comes their way? This is
a question the Chicago Inter Ocean
puts up in contemplation of the smug
gling charges now being investigated
by the government customs author
ities against a Kenosha (Wis.) mil
lionaire and a woman on whom the
government claims he lavished wealth
and jewels. Chicago had a similar case
recently when an elderly Danbury
(Iowa) farmer came into court to tell
how a fair charmer had stripped him
of every dollar he possessed.
"Why they do it." the Inter Ocean
says in comment, "must ever remain
a mystery, but there is no question
about their doing it. At an age when
most men have put away extremely
foolish things and when their wicked
est diversion, if they have any at all,
is to chuckle over reminiscences of
the good old days, persons like Ken
osha's pride or the sad victim from
Danbury. Iowa, arise at the first signal
from ladies who love but do not linger
nd pour their assets into their laps
in a manner marvelous to behold.
"What a pity that gentlemen who
have reached middle age without cau
tion or experience sufficient to pro
tect them from their own wandering
fancies and the cupidity of wealth-de
siring women do not fortify them
selves against the dangers which
await them by a careful examination
of some of the embarrassing cases that
have gone before! On that subject the
newspaper files are perfect mines of
information and admonition.
"But they don't do it, unfortunately.
Their principal course of reading
comes after the embarrassment has
them in its grip. Then and not till
then do they realize how extremely
foolish it is for a middle-aged man to
give a great deal of money to alien
and designing females.
USELESS FIRE WASTE.
The population of this country has
increased 73 per cent since 1880, while
in the same period the fire loss has in
creased 134 per cent. This is a state
ment made in a pamphlet issued by an
eastern fire insurance company in
which a protest is entered over the in
difference we show toward avoidable
and criminal waste by fire. The com
pany brings out some good points in
presenting its argument, a part of
One of the most glaring wastes in
the country is the loss of life and
property by fire. This waste costs in
America at the rate three dollars per
capita of the population yearly. In
Europe thirty-five cents per capita.
Fully ninety per cent of all fires are
preventable arising from improper
construction, carelessness or indiffer
ence, that the latter in many other
countries would be treated as criminal
and punished accordingly, but in tbis,
generally goes without investigation,
if insured, the popular belief and de
lusion being that it is a loss to the
insurance companies and not that of
the public, whose taxable property has
been reduced to the extent of such loss
the insurance company being simply
the collector of what may be properly
railed the fire tax. Every fire (great
or small) is A loss to the community,
irrespective of whether the property
destroyed was insured or not, a l'act
that every property owner snould bear
in mind, and realize that fires wipe
so much value out of existence, and if
insured, that the insurance company
might have brought him to this part
copyright. I#,,, The Bobbs-Merrill Cemv
of town. If he had been following me,
Instead of Carucci—the very pos
sibility made me angry. And just then
Doctor Reid walked in at the door.
There was another man with him, a
very large irian with a broken nose
and what is known among the sport
ing fraternity as a cauliflower ear.
They stood together, looking about
them for a moment and I bowed my
head upon my folded arms. I did not
want to talk to Doctor Reid in that
place—or in any place, for that mat
ter. When I looked up again, they
were seated at Carucci's table, and
the waiter was bringing up drinks for
all three. They seemed to be talking
with the greatest good fellowship.
Reid, I noticed, barely tasted his
drink, and watched his chance to pour
the rest with a certain medical ac
curacy into the cuspidor beneath the.
table. I smiled to see how pleased he
was with the way he way carrying
off a perfectly evident part. Every
minute or so he would reach forth
his hand and give the Italian a couple
of staccato pats in the region of his
shoulder pulling back his hand
quickly, and beaming tLo while
with a radiance of stagy friend
liness. The giant with him
took things more as a matter of
course. He wasted none of his drink,
but drained each glass as soon as it
was set before him, leaning between
whiles with mighty elbows upon the gianced~again" at his companion.
table, his great disfigured hands, „Ah
cradling his brutal face. He seemed
the last person in the world that aihe.B
man of Reid's type would sit at table
with. Perhaps Reid had reason to be
afraid of Carucci and had employed
this fellow as a sort of bodyguard.
Another human mockery was upon
the stage a tall, scrawny creature
with some remnant of good looks and
a voice that retained a surprising
sweetness and charm. She sang unhap
pily, with an occasional scowl at the
piano, where the sot on the stool
jangled his notes tirelessly. Carucci
was getting very drunk he was com
mencing to wave his arms about, and
has only saved the necessity of pass
ing the hat around among the charita
As an evidence of the result of care
lessness, the following statistics will
prove interesting and ought to act as
Out of 5,377 fire losses in Chicago
during the year ending December,
1910, the following were easily pre
Careless use of candles ...... 24
Careless use of matches 1020
Careless use of Xmas tree.... 6
Careless use of sulphur 8
Careless use of cigar stubs... 38
Defective flues 193
Defective electric wiring 127
Careless use of gas 339
Careless use of fireworks .... 100.
Careless use of, gas jets 104
Careless use of hot ashes 34
Careless use of oil lamps 91
Careless use of oil stoves
Careless use of plumbers torch
Thawing water pipes
This shows that over forty-two par
cent of the fire losses in this city last
year have arisen from carelessness
and preventable causes. The expert
ence of this company is^that 49.40 per
cent of its losses are attributable to
carelessness, apart from losses that
arise from improper construction of
buildings, clearly indicating property
owners do ndt realize they are the
parties who pay the losses.
We have reliable information to the
effect that insurance companies have
paid $2,565,939,G74 for property that
has been destroyed by fire in the Uni
ted States from 1880 to 1910, inclus
ive. We don't know how much more
was destroyed that we have no inform?
ation of, but do know it must have
been considerable. The amount in
any event is appalling, and a large
proportion of it has arisen from care
lessness or indifference that would be
held as criminal in other countries.
In many portions of Europe, the
"Code Napoleon" or something similar,
is in force. Under Section 1382 of
same "every person is personally re
sponsible and liabie for any acts of
his by which any other person has or
may have sustained any loss, dam
age or injury." Then again, Section
1383 says "every person is responsible
for any loss or damace or injury caused
by his own act, carelessness or negli
In France afire is a serious matter
to the party in whose premises it has
originated. It may result in criminal
or civil prosecution, generally both.
As a consequence un'isual care is ex
ercised in construction, and if possible
even mere in guarding against fire
originating through carelessness cr
negligence. This has resulted in re
n«l/1*M tttAiiM rt tnnlA I .... ... a
Th flro rnat thrniiehoiit roots of bis close-cropped hair
reducing the fire cost throughout
fire loss for the same period has in
creased 134 per cent, a condition that
probably will continue to the public's
loss as long as they do not realize
they themselves foot the bill.
annum, ^head^of he%o°p "Stiom (my matu
Wi^g7ullyh^h a wlpered
two. and sat sullenly down across the
"I'll moke it as short as you please,"
rest of the owner or occupant immed
lately follows a fire, and there is no
release until the. party under arrest is
clearly vindicated. In this free coun
try carelessness and willful negligence
is ignored, improper construction is It® makes good.
admissible, and incendiarism generally
goes unpunished, while afire waste un
paralleled in the history of the world
keeps Increasing as evidenced by the
population having only Increased since "No. My own initiative entirely.
1880, seventy-three per cent, while the Only practical way. of making sure
Middle Aged and Elderly People.
Use Foley Kidney Pills for quick and
permanent results in all cases
of kidney and bladder trouble, and
for painful and annoying irregular!- avoid trouble. The man's gone, and
ties—Clark's Drug S^ore. Owl Drug there's an end to it/Is that all?"
Store. i- So Beid's own fear of Carucci^ad
OTTUMWA COURIER SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1911.
now and then th® splutter of his words
reached even my far corner. As for
Reid, he was plainly embarrassed and
somewhat frightened. His hand^ rested
beseechingly upon the Italians arm,
and he looked at his burly companion
with evident appeal.
The big man grinned, and gave his
order to the waiter with a leer that
ended with thrown-back head and
closed eyes. The waiter grinned in his
turn and hurried off. I was getting
more than a little interested. Carucci
tossed off afresh drink at a gulp, and
pushed back his chair.
"I know," he shouted. "I knowa da
troub' with all you. You can'ta fool
Antonio, non cio-e?"
Reid had grown suddenly rigid In
his seat. I got up from my table, and
hurried across to them.
"Sit down," said the giant, and
pushed Carucci back Into his chair
with a thud.
Carucci scowled sullenly. "Well,
gimme da mon'. Gimme da mon'," he
growled. "I needa da mon'," and he
poured forth a torrent of Italian,
threats for the most part about a
secret he knew which he proposed to
shout to the world unless somebody
paid him well. The room was fairly
empty, but here and there people at
the tables had begun to stare. The
woman on the stage stumbled in her
song, and paused wearily. Reid
g,ve lt to himt he-8 a
laughed the giant. "Just play
bank an- make a dep0Bit."
Reid drew a roll of bills from his
poc.ket and began
them off. The giant grew impatient.
"Ah, hell," he said, "here, give 'em
to me," and he snatched the roll from
Reid's hand and gathered up the
money from the table, crushing the
whole into a bulging wad. "Here, you
take it all. That'll hold you for a
Reid got up in protest.
"Sit down, you dope." the other
growled, "let him have It for a while."
Carucci grinned drunkenly, and
crammed the handful carelessly into
a deep pocket, swaying to his feet.
"Graz'. Alia ri'." His mouth opened
loosely and he slumped to the floor
in a heap.
The waiter had come up, f.nd with
the giant's help lifted Carucci and
between them they half carried him
to a doorway at the side of the room.
They moved for all the world like
three boon companions, arm in arm
The door closed behind them, and I
glanced.around. Nobody appeared to
be concerned in the least and even
Reid, almost dancing with nervous
ness, no longer attracted attention.
"See here." I said, "did you people
drug that fellow, Reid?"
He whirled upon me. "You keep out
of this. Crosby," he stuttered "noth
ing to do with you, nothing whatever."
"Well, I answered, "Mr. Tabor asked
me to keep an eye on him, that's all.
What am I to report. What are you
going to do with him?"
"Um, humph! That's why you're
here, then. Beg. pardon, I'm sure, but
you startled me. Bad business. Bad
business. But the man had to be made
sure of. Getting dsneerous. Man with
me drugged him. -Chloral, you know.
Won't harm him. Not at all."
The giant was coming back. "Here's
your roll, mister," he said, with an un
ifriendly glance at me. "Count 'em. I
took out my twenty."
"Is he all right?" Reid asked.
"Sure!" grinned the' other. "He
v.'pi't wake un tni morning, and then
ho'll bp out o' sisht o' land. I got a
nice ship picked out fer. him."
We were all unon our feet, and now
Reid. with a curt nod of farewell,
turned away with his companion. I
started to his other side.
"One moment." I said. "I want to
Vr^w little ifor# nbout this before
I drop it: and right here is as good a
"Can't just now. Crosby." He
motioned me away nervously. "Not
rossible. See you up in the country nnv
time and tell you all you want. Not
fcprp." and he moved t.ownrrl the door.
"You enn't help vourse'f," said I,
"and I won't ke^T) vou long. Sit down
pRpin. r»lfase." He had lugged out his
T-ntrb. "You'll have to miss your train,
but there are plenty more."
The gfant scowled at me with ob
vious willina-ness to begin a disturb
ance then and there and Reid glancod
hesitatingly from the one to the other
of us. his impulse printed plain upon
"Oortainly." I put in. "yau can get
rid of me in that way. for the moment,
if it's worth your while. Make up your
mind—vou're the doctor."
He stprted angrily, flushing to the
I retorted. "Carucci's wife is sent
down to see that she
Now you come down and have him
shanghaied. Was that your own idea,
or were you—
that he went. Best to see to it your
self. and then you know it's done.''
"I understand, then, that Mr. Tabor
didn't suggest this to you?"
"Exactly. Tabor knows nothing
?»vout it. Mv own idea altogether."
His triumph in his own efficiency was
overriding his annoyance. "Better say
nothing to him whatever. He has
enough to think of. Always best to
been Intense enough to drive him to
this dirty alternative rather than trust
to our sending the man safely away.
There was something unnatural here.
"Not quite," I said. "Of course, you
know the exact naturve of the fellow's
"Certainly. Pack of lies. Won't dis
cuss it. Utterly absurd, the whole
thing, but we can't have it go any
"Precisely, and it won't go any
further, now. What I want to know is
the foundation for it You must see the
reason for my knowing that much of
the facts, and for trusting me with
them. If there is any entanglement—"
"Look here, Crosby," Reid leaned
forward across the table, his face
scarlet and working, "that'll, do. I
don't propose to sift over my life with
you. Not for a minute. What's more,
if we could afford a row, I'd punch
your head for having-the assurance to
repeat that Infernal slander to my
face. That's all do you understand?
There's plenty of time for that," I
said, lowering my voice instinctively,
as I felt my own temper slipping. "I'll
ask you Just one more question. On
your word, is Miriam Tabor alive, or
I never saw a man so broken by a
word. He turned from red to greenish'
white, the perspiration shining on his
forehead and for the moment it
seemed that he could not speak. Then
he dragged the words out hoarsely
"You've taken a damned cowardly
advantage—Miriam Tabor was my
wife, and she's dead. Now are you
satisfied? Because I'm not."
There was nothing to add. I rose in
silence, and we made our way to the
door. On the sidewalk, he waited for
me to choose my direction then with
out a word, turned pointedly in the
opposite one, and walked quickly
1 set out for the Carucci tenenient
in a state of no great comfort. By forc
ing a scene I had gained nothing and
I had made an overt enemy of Doctor
Reid. Not that I was particularly con
cerned over that development I had
never liked the man from the first
and I was Impressed not so much by
what he had said as by his open and
disproportionate confusion. Think
what I might of my own side of the
affair, Reid had confessed to a per
sonal concern with Carucci he had
flown Into, a rage upon my asking for
an explanation and the name of Mir
iam had stricken him like a blow. He
had told me nothing, after all, and had
made me the more anxious over what
he refused to tell. If he had been ab
solutely In the right, I had done noth
ing worse than to touch upon a grief
brutally and he would have said pre
cisely what he did say if I had been
justified and he had been lying. Well.
Carucci was out of reach, and Reid
worse than silenced. What chance re
mained to me of an answer to my
problem depended upon Sheila.
I had no time to doubt If I should
find her for her window was lighted
up, and she herself plainly to be. seen,
leaning far out to watch the atreetr be
low as' I turned the corner. When I
was still half was up the block, she
called to me by name, bidding me
come up at once and I answered as
I picked my way along, trying to re
assure her. The scene for a moment
resembled a ludicrous burlesque of
a serenade nor did the street miss
anything of its humor. With one ac
cord the women in the doorways, the
lounging men about the lamps and
the scurrying screaming groups of
youngsters underfoot caught up the
implication, and began a babel of
jocose advice and criticism in a dozen
languages. And although I understood
but little of it, and Was somewhat pre
occupied with graver matters, yet. I
was fain to dive hurriedly Into the
doorway with a heated and tingling
countenance. The little room was
itself again, save for a dull spot upon
the clean-scrubbed boards and the
canary in the window paused In a
burst, of singing as I entered.
"Sheila," I said, "I'm very much
afraid you won't like my news."
"Well. sir. what's happened him?"
she asked briefly.
"You're riprht," I answered. "It's
your husband, but it's nothing to be
alarmed about, nothing at all danger
ous. You must—"
"For the love of God don't thry
to break things to me, sir. Speak right
out. He's not hurt, ye sav well, he's
pinched then, I supposed."
"No. it's not the police. He's been
shanghaied, If you know what that
"Crimped? it's thrue for ye. I know
'tis twice before he's been, but who
done it I never could tell. Av I thought
anny av.my. folk that's afraid av his
silly tongue wud do that dhlrty thrlck
—she stopped short, her strong
I was rather ancry myself. "Well
Sheila, I don't believe they had any
thing to do with it befbre but it
was Doctor Reid who had it done to
day. was there, but it was over be
fore I understood svhat was going on."
"Reid? I shud ha' know 'twas Reid,
the shamblin' Bcun he Is, an' small
eood them that loved him best ever
had av hjm! Now, the divil hould his
dhlrty little pinch of a soul! For why
Bhud he harm my man?"
"That's what I want to know," I
said. He's afraid of what Antonio eays
about him, and you know—"
"As far as his story ever goes it'll
harm no man," she burst out, "they
know well he's all bark an' no bite,
if they weren't all crazy afraid to
eether. an' a truer man anny day than
that blagyard body snatch in' pill
roller. His own guilty heart it is,
whisperln* over his shoulder, an' me
poor lamb that he married an' mur
thered, and the child av his ow^ body
on the one day! An' the poor mother
they're callin' crazy, with the soul av
the daughter she cudn't let free stand
in' between her an' the sunshine.
Crazy she'll never be until they make
her so. with their doctors an' ques
tions an' whispers, an' that death
Reid grinnin' before her face, with the
blood dhry on him!" She paused for
breath, walking up and'down the room
and twisting her hands.
"Sit down, Sheila," I said, "you
know this Is absurd. I'm trying to get
a little truth about
care for and If you say things like
that, how can you expect me to be
lieve anything?" But my knees were
trembling as I spoke.
"Mudhered lt was all th» same,"
she said sullenly, dropping back into
a chair nevertheless. "When a docthor
with all the learnln' that goes beyond
the knowledge av a woman lets his
wife die an' an innocent mite av a
new born baby go down to the grave
with her, 'tis black murder it is, no
less. How sould she rest quiet after
that, an' half her life callin' to her,
an* the mother that wouldn't let her
go, an' had the, power to see? 'Tis
no docthor she wants, but a priest, an'
no medicine but a handful av holy
wather,- like my own sister's cousin
Nora that used to sit an'talk with her
lad that was dead evenin's by the
byre wall, an' Father Tracy came be
hind an' sprlkled the two av thim,,
the one he could see an' the one he
could not see."
"Who was it that died?" I asked
sharply. "Was it Miriam? Did Reid
lie to me when he said so, or did
Carucci lie when he said that Reid
was married to Lady?"
She grew suddenly quiet and
cautious, as if she had said too much
already, and must weigh her words.
"Reid told ye the truth for once,"
she mattered. 'Twas Antonio lied."
"Then Miriam was his wife and
"Yes," she answered, "it was Mir
iam," but she did not meet my eyes.
Then she went on hastily, before I
could speak again.
"Ye see, sir, 'twas like this. When
Miriam died, her mother's heart
nearly went with her, an' so because
the poor dear loved her more than
enough, she did not go quite away.
She used to talk to her, an' when the
villian that let her die got doctors an'
looked like judgment, an' said my
poor soul was wrong in' her head, an'
she ought to be taken away, an' they
moved her out there in the counthry
where they had no friends, an* kept
her hidden as if there was a shame
upon her, sure the lovin' spul of the
dead girl followed her mother. They
said she was crazy when she made
them move her daughter's room, an'
keep it up in the new house as it
had been in the old, an' would sit an'
talk to her there. Sure, 'twas no sign
at all, an' a black lie in Reid's black
heart to set the husba.nd an' the
daughter again' her. Some folks are
that way, that can see the fairy folk
an' the goblins, an' speak with the
wandherin' dead. A good priest Mrs.
Tabor should have when the power
tires her, an' not a lyin' schemin'
brute av a docthor that wants to put
her away. 'Twas not much at first
anyhow. But h? turned their heads
talk av asylums an' horrors
to lead them away Irom his own
"Is that the secret, then?" I asked.
"Is the trouble no more than their
fear that Mrs. Tabor is Insane?"
"Secret? What secret? There's no
secret they have at all, only a i^icked
lie." She was growing careful again.
'Tis all that docthor that's never
happy but doin' harm. She's no more
crazy than meself. ap' no one thinks
nor fears ltr Bot -even him. They only
say so, because—" She stopped herself
"Sheila," I said, "tell me Just one
thing. How much truth is there in
what your husband says?"
"How do I know what he says?" She
was watching n)e closely, as if to see
that I followed her words. "He's
dhrunk half the time, poor divil, an'
he says one thing today an' one to
morrow. Never ye mind him, sir."
"But there must have been some
thing for him to go on," I persisted.
"Did Reid have some affair abroad
b?fore his marriage, or not?"
She hesitated, her apparent hatred
off Reid struggling with lier loyalty to
the family and her recovered caution.
"There was some matther av a
woman in Germany," she said at last,
reluctantly, "but I never rightly knew
about it, nor Antonio either." Then
more rapidly "An* it's angry I've been,
Mr. Crosby, an4 it's like I've said more
meself than I mean." She $kused.
"Has that nothing to do with the
trouble in the family Shelia, you know
I'm their good friend, and I'm not
merely gossiping. You must have
for the life of me I could
not go on.
•"I'll say no more," she answered
obstinately. "It's weary I am for you,
an' the poor darlin* that's bewitched
ye, but—" her eyes filled, and she
shut her mouth with a snap. Say
what I would after that, I could not
move her. She had said enough al
ready and she trusted a gentleman
like me that it should go no further.
That was all.
"Sheila," I said, as I rose to go, is
all you have told me true?"
"Thrue?" she -started as if I had
struck her. "Yes, it's thrue—an' sor
row fell them that made it so."
I took up my hat and stick from the
"We will have another talk about
this some day, Sheila," I said. And I
closed the door behind me.
For the next few days I think I
must have been nearer to a nervous
breakdown than I am ever likely to be
again. All the strain and the anxiety
of the whole summer seemed to fall
upon me in a mass I had not the re1
lief of taking arms against my troule,
nor. of any better business than to
brood and to remember, sifting mis
ery by the hour in hopeless search
after some grain of decision and the
heat and hurry of the city broke my
natural sleep, and went to make a
nightmare of my days. Maclean was
with me a good deal, taking me with
him into strange corners of the town,
and trying his best to bring me out of
myself but I could not talk to him of
what waB on my mind, and the irrita
tion of constant pretense to carless
ness vitiated much of the relief he
tried to give. Wherever I might be to
appearance, the same Spartan Fox
was at my breast—Carucci's story and
Sheila's attempted contradiction, and
the ambiguous trouble that overhung
Lady and shut me out from her. I
could not fathom it and I dared not
take dangerous action in the dark.
Reid had passed through some scandal
before his marriage Shelia had ad
mitted so much and her denial that
Miriam and Lady were the same had
been involved in such a maze of sur
mise and superstition, so evidently
and angrily put forward as a defense,
that I could not believe what would
of lt. It might be well that Mrs. Tabor
was oppressed even to insanity by the
situation. But what was the situation?
If the mother's. madnesB of bereave
ment were at the root of all, what had
the family to conceal? Or why should
not the remaining daughter marry
whom she-chose? Sheila's explanation
of the first was absurdly tenuous and
the last she had. not attempted to ex
plain. No, there was one shadow over
them all: the cause of the mother's
grief was the cause of the daughter's
terror, and of the, irrational behavior
of the sane and practical man of the
family. I could find no alternative
either Mrs. Tabor was haunted by
mediaeval ghosts, or some part of the
scandal must be true.
At last, one unbearably humid morn*
ing, when I was almost on the point
of going blindly out to Stamford on
the chance of any happening that
might let my anxiety escape into ac
tion, of any opportunity that might
force a climax, Mr. Tabor called- me
on the telephone.
"Hello, Mr. Crosby? Mr. Lauwenoe
Crosby?—Well. Crosby, this is Mr. Ta
bor talking. Are you free this morning,
so that you can give us a few hours
of your time? You can help us very
much if you will."
"Certainly, I'll be out as soon as I
can get a train." The idea of seeing
Lady again was a compensation under
any circumstances but the next words
destroped that hope.
"No, don't do that. What I want of
you is right there in New.York.". He
hesitated a moment. "Hello—that—
same situation which occurred the
other day, when ybu were .alone in
the house, and we were in town, has
arisen again. You understand me?—
We're looking after this neighborhood.
The person in question has been gone
an hour, leaving no word .may have
gone to New York. Now,. will you
m^et all trains until further n'otice,
and keep your eyes open? Call uq up
about every half hour. In case of suc
cess, use your own judgment—doq't
excite any one, don't be left behind,
and telephone as soon as possible. Am
I making this explicit enough?"
"Yes, perfectly. I'm to meet trains,
let matters take their own course as
far as possible, keep in touch, and let
"That's it exactly. I knew we could
count on you."
I was not many, minutes in getting
to the Grand Central, laying my plan
of action .on the way. To be sure that
no one arrived unobserved In that
great labyrinth of tracks and exits
was no such easy matter, even though
I knew the point of' departure. I be
gan by a thorough search of the wait
ing-rooms. Then, finding, as I had ex
pected, no trace of Mrs. Tabor, I
learned the times and positions of all
the Stamford trains, and set myself
to meet each one as It arrived. I had
to make certain .of seeing every pas
senger, and at the same time to keep
out of the expectant throng that
crowded close to the restraining ropes
on a similar errand for if Mrs, Tabor
should appear lycnust not seem to bo
watchldg for bdfc The next hour and
a half was divided between studying
the clock, running my eyes dizzily
over streams of hurrying humanity,
racing anxiously from place to place
when a late train crowded close upon
its successor, and snatching a moment
at the telephone in the intervals-of
nervous waiting. Even
be morally sure that she might not
(blip by me unnoticed. And when at
last I recognized her fragile figure :i
far down the long platform, I wa»
!eps excited than relieved.
She came on quickly carrying a
little shopping bag, and stepping with
a certain birdlike alertness. It was
hard to imagine that this eager, pretty
lady, with her spun- glass hair and her
bright eyes, could be either ill or in
trouble. I let her pass me, and fol
lowed at a little distance into the
waiting-room then crossed over and
met her face to face by the telephone
booths on the west side. Her greeting
was a fresh surprise.
"Why, Mr. Crosby, this is delignt
fully fortunate I was just going to call
you up, and here you spring from tho
earth as if I had rubbed a magic
ring. You must have known that I was
thinking about you. You're not going $
away, are you^ Or meeting any one?"
If she had meant anything In partic
ular, I had reason to feel embar
rassed but the big, childish eyes that
smiled into my own seemed wholly in
nocent of suspicion.
"No," I said. "I've been seeing
so of an I ad a
your service for as long as you like."
I was praying Heaven to inspir me
"Well, that's the best that could
have happened. I came in town to see
some friends, and I promised myself
to see you at the same time. Excuse
me just half a minute while I teie
(To Be Continued.)
A Life 8entence
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105 S. Market St.
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