Newspaper Page Text
The Million Dollar Mystery
By HAROLD MAC GRATH Illustrated from Scenes in the Photo Drama of the Same Name by the Thanhouser Film Company (Copyright, 1914, by Harold UacGrath} 20 CHAPTER XXII. ! A Night of Adventure. The federal government agreed to say nothing, to put. no obstacles in tho way of the Russian agent, provided he could abduct his trio without serious ly clashing with the New York police authorities. It was a recognized fact that the iocai police force wanted the newspaper glory which would attend tho crushing of the Black Hundred. It would be an exploit. But their glory was nil; nor did Servan take his trio back with him to Russia. Many strange things happened that night, tho night of the final adven ture. Florence sat in her room reading. The book was "Oliver Twist,” not the pleasantest sort of book to read un der tho existing circumstances. Sev eral times—she had reached the place where Fagln overheard Nancy’s con fession—she fancied she heard doors closing softly, but credited it to her imagination. Poor Nancy, who want ed to bo good but did not find time to be! Florence possessed a habit fa miliar to most of us; the need of ap ples or candy when we are reading. So she rang the bell for her maid, intending to ask her to bring up some apples. She turned to her reading, presently to break off and strike the bell again. Where was that maid? She waited perhaps five minutes, then laid down the book and began to investi gate. mere was not a servant to do tounu in the entire house! What In the j world could that mean? Used as she j was to heartrending suspense, she was none tho less terrified. Something had taken tho servants from the house. From whence was the danger to come this time? Where was Jones? Why did he not return as he had promised? It was long past the hour when he said he would be back. She went into the library and picked up the telephone. She was told that Mr. Norton was out on an assignment, but that he would be notified the mo ment he returned She opened a draw er in the desk. She touched the au tomatic, but did not take it up. She left tho drawer open, however. Earlier, at the newspaper office that night, Jim went into the managing ed itor's office and laid a* bulky manu script on that gentleman's desk. "Is this it?" "It is," said Jim. "You have captured them?" "No; but there is a net about them from which not one shall escape. There’s the story )f my adventures, of the adventures of Miss Hargreave and the butler, Jones. You’ll fiud it ex citing enough You might just as well send it up to the composing room. At midnight I'll telephone the introduc tion. It’s a scoop. Don't-worry about that." The editor riffled the pages. "A hundred and twelve pages, 300 words to the page; man it's a novel!" "It'll read like one." "Sit down for a moment and let me skim through the first story." At the end of ten minutes the editor laid dowu the copy. He opened a draw er and took out two envelopes. The bluo one he tore up and dropped into the waste basket. Norton understood and smiled. They had meant to dis f-liiiriTi' him if he fell down. The other envelope was a fat one. "Open it," said the editor, smiling a little to himself. This envelope contained a check for $‘.’,500, two round-trip ilrst-cluss tickets to Liverpool, together with innumer able continental tickets such as are Issued to tourists. "Why two?" asked Jim. innocently. "Forget it, my boy, forget it. You ought to know that In this ofllee we don't employ blind men. The whole etaff is on. There you are, a fat check nnd three months' vacation. Go and get married; and if you return before the three months are up I'll tire you myself on general principles." Jim laughed happily and the two tnca shook hands. Then Jim went forth to complete the big assignment. Five minutes later Florence called him up to learn that he had gone. What should she do? Jones had told her to stay In the house and not j to k-avo it. But where was he? Why did he not come? What was the mean- i Ing of this desertion by the servants? She wandered about aimleesly, looking out of windows, imagining forms in the shadows. Her imagination had not deceived her; she had heard doors | close softly. "Susan. Susan!” she murmured; but , ftaean was in the hospital. "Oliver Twist!” What had possessed , ber to start reading that old tale again'* She should have read some- 1 thing of a light and Joyous character. After half an hour’s wandering about the lonely house she returned to the library, feeling that she would be saier where both telephone and re volver were. And while she sat watting for she knew not what, her swiftly beating heart sending the blood into her throat •o that it almost suffocated her, a man .turned Into the street and walked noiselessly toward the Hargrenve place. He passed a man leaning against a lamppost, but he never turned to look at him. This man, however, threw away his cigar and hot-footed it to the nearest pay station. He knew in his soul that he had just seen the man for whom they had been hunting all these weary but strenuous weeks—Stanley Har greave in the flesh! Half an hour after his telephone message the chief of the ltlack Hundred and many lesser lights were on their way to the house of mystery. Had they but known! Now, the man who had created this tremendous agitation went serenely on. He proceeded directly and fear lessly to the front door, produced a latchkey and entered. He passed through the hall and reception room to the library and paused on the threshold dramatically. Florence stepped back with, a sharp cry of alarm. She had heard the hall door open and close and had taken it for granted that Jones had entered. There was a tableau of short dura tion. "Don't you know me?" asked the stranger in a singularly pleasant voice. Florence had been imposed upon too many times. She shook her head defiantly, though her knees shook so that she was certain that the least touch would send her over. ‘‘I am your father, child!” Florence slipped unsteadily behind the desk and seized the revolver which lay in the drawer. The man by the curtains smiled sadly. It was a smile that caused Florence to waver a bit. Still she extended her arm. "You do not believe me?” said the man, advancing slowly. "No. 1 have been deceived too many times, sir. Stay where you are. You will wait here till my butler returns. Oh, if I were only sure!” she burst out suddenly and passionately. "What proof have you that you are what you say ?” He came toward her. holding out his hands. "This, that you cannot shoot me. Ah. the damnable wretches! What have they done to you, my child, to make you suspicious of every one? How 1 have watched over you in the street! I will tell you what only Jones and the reporter know, that the avia tor died, that I alone was rescued, that I gave Norton the live thousand; that 1 watched the windows of the Rus sian woman, and overheard nearly ev ery plot that was hatched in the coun cil chamber of the Illack Hundred; I •_——■1 - I—^-1 The Clean Life of the Reporter Told. that I wa« shot tn the arm while cross ing the lawn one night. And now we have the scoundrels just where we want them. They will be in this house for me within half an hour, and not one of them will leave it in freedom. I am your father, Florence. 1 am tho lonely father who has spent the best years of his life away from you In order to secure your safety. Can't you feel the truth of ail this?" "No, no! Please do not approach any nearer; stay where you are!” At that moment the telephone rang. With the revolver still leveled she picked up the receiver. "Hello, hello! Who is it? . . Oh, Jim, Jim, come at once! 1 am holding at bay a man who says he is my father. Hold him where he is, you say? All right, I will. Come quick!" "Jim!" murmured the man, still ad vancing He muat have that revolver. The poor child might spoil the whole affair. “So what Jones tells me is true: that you are going to marry this reporter chap?" She did not answer. “With or without my consent?" If only he would drop that fearless smile' she thought. "With or without anybody's consent," she said. “What in the world can I say to you to convince you?" he cried. "The trap is set; but if Rraine and his men come and find us like this, good heaven, child, we are both lost! Come, come!" "Stay where you are!” At that moment she heard a sou..d | at the door. Her gaze roved; and it was enough for the man. He reached out and caught her arm. She tried to tear herself loose. "My child, in God's name, listen to reason! They are entering the hall and they will have us both.” Suddenly Florence knew. She could not have told you why; but there was an appeal in the man’s voice that went to her heart. "You are my father!” "Yes, yes! But you’ve found it out just a trifle too late, my dear. Quick; this side of the desk!” Braine and his men dashed into the library. Olga entered leisurely. “Both of them!” yelled Braine ex ultantly. "Both of them together; what luck!” There was a sharp, fierce struggle: and when it came to an end Har greave was trussed to a chair. “Ah. so we meet again, Hargreave!” said Braine. Hargreave shrugged. What he wanted was time. "A million! We have you. Where is it, or I’ll twist your heart before your eyes.” "Father, forgive me!” “I understand, my child.” "Where is it?" Braine seized F'lor ! once by the wrist nnd swung her to ward him. "Don't tell him, father; don't mind me,” said the girl bravely. Braine, smiling his old evil smile, drew the girl close. It was the last time he ever touched her. "Look!” screamed Olga. Every one turned, to see .lones' face peering between the curtains. There was an ironic smile on the butler’s lips. The face vanished. "After him!” cried Braine, releasing Florence. "After him!” mimicked a voice from the hall. The curtains were thrown back sud denly. Jones appeared, and Jim and the Russian agent and a dozen police men. Tableau! Hraine was the only man who kept his head. He tloored Norton, smashed a window, and leaped out. The blow dazed Norton, but he was on his feet almost instantly and followed Hraine through the window-. Across the lawn the two sped, with an exchange of shots which emptied both automatics but did no damage. Hraine headed for his auto. He jumped in, only to be hauled out again by the furious reporter. A hand-to-hand fight fol lowed; and the clean life of the re porter told. “There, my angeiic friend. I believe that the game is up. There is one shot left in this automatic. If you make any attempt to escape. I'll let you have it: not to kift but to disable You and your precious countess will | sail tomorrow morning for the Baltic, and from there you will go to the lead mines.” He dragged his prisoner to I ward the house. “Your troubles are over, my child.” said Hargreave, as ho pressed Flor ence to his heart. “And mine have begun," murmured the countess. "But I have still one shot.” The police stood encircling her Calmly she opened her handbag and took out her hankderchlef. it was a thick and heavy silk one. Swiftly she unscrewed the top of her walking stick (it will be seen now that the carrying of it was not an affectation! i, extracted a vial and threw it violently to the floor. An overpowering sweet odor filled the room. Jones, knowing how deeply versed Hraine was in ori ental-poisons and narcotics, made a desperate but futile effort to tear down a curtain to throw over the liquid: but even in the effort he felt bis senses going. The last he was conscious of was a mocking laugh. Hut the entrance of Jim. dragging Hraine after him, shocked all the ban ter out of the countess. She turned and rushed madly for the stairs, with out having the least idea how she was to manage an escape from the upper stories. She had thought Hraine free As she flew up the steps all the past returned, all her warnings to that stub born man. This was the end . . . Russia! The horrors of the cold and the deadly damps of the mines . . . lurever: Jim, still holding the battered con spirator. watched her flight in amaze ment. He could not understand—till he pushed liraine into the library and the vanishing odor assailed his nos trils. What these fuwos were he nev er knew, but they prtwed to be transi tory. Five minutes Sufficed to bring all back to their senses. For the while they forgot Olga. "This man is mine," said Servan, nodding toward liraine. "He's yours without charge," said Jim. "I'm an American citizen.” said Hraine, who, realizing what the fu ture held, readily preferred a long j prison term in America to the horrors of Russian exile. "Your certificate has been de stroyed," said Servan, "and the state department considers your papers void because you obtained them under false oaths. You are an undesirable citi zen; and the republic is happy to learn that you will be taken off its hands." "And because," added Norton, "you have laid too many mines in the black mailing business, and the government does not propose to have them made known to the public through a long and useless trial. It was a long run, old top; but right is right. And by the way, I want you to meet Mr. Jed son, formerly of Scotland Yard.” He Indicated Jones, who started. “Yes," went on the reporter, "I rec- ' ogntzed him long ago." "It is true," said Hargreave, taking' Jones’ hand in his own. “Fifteen years ago I employed him to watch my af fairs, and very well has he done so. And to you, you wretch,’’ turning upon the haggard Braine, “listen: there is a million, and you have been within a foot of it a dozen times. It has been under your very nose. Do you re member Poe’s ‘Purloined Letter?’ Ha! Under your very nose, within touch of your hand! Now, take him away, Mr. Servan. The police will be satisfied with the prisoners they have." So, presently, Hargreave, Jones, Florence and Jim were alone. That smile which had revealed to Florence her father's identity stole over his face again. He put his hand on Jim's shoul der and beckoned to Florence. "Are you really anxious to marry this young man?” Florence nodded. “Well, then, do so. And go to Eu rope with him on your honeymoon; and as a wedding present to you both, for every dollar that he has I will add a hundred; and when you get tired of I The Escape of Countess Olga. travel you will both come back here to live. The lilack Hundred has ceased to exist." "And now,” said Jones, shaking his shoulders. “Well?" said Hargreave. “My business is done. Still—" Jones paused. “Go on," said Hargreave soberly "Well, the truth is, sir, I've grown used to you. And if you'll let me play the butler till the end 1 shall be most happy.” “1 was going to suggest it.'' Norton took Florence by the hand and drew her away. “Where are you taking me?" she asked. “I'm going to take this pretty hand of yours and put it flat upon $1,000, 000. And if you don't believe it, fol low me.” She followed. THE END. SPHERE FOR WOMAN DOCTOR Writer’s Opinion Is That She Has Properly Taken the Place That Is Her Right. They tell us now that we are the fighting sex. Why have we been so long? Ardent, beautiful, sweet as a nut, with nut-brown eyes under lids like pointed white flames, with her rip pling wing of hair in the same sweet, hot tones, with her tall grace and grave glance and white, expert, sensi tive hands—the scientist's hands which take account of a hair—why is she here—this woman—bending over her tubes and flasks and microscope instead of iti a drawing room, with bowls of white hyacinths at her el bow? Why, within sixty years after medicine is open to women, are 10,000 practicing in this country alone? Is it because we are tired of ignorance in pity? If there were no other field for woman doctors, unmarried mothers would make a place in the world for them If there is any psychology of sex, or sex antagonism, or sisterhood among women, or any of the other things wo talk of so gayly in our search to get at the truth about men and women, surely it is easier to look into n woman's eyes than into a man's when you hear that you are to un dertake motherhood ouside the plan society has for this service to it. ”1 am a woman myself and I know what you bear”—the eyes of the wom an doctor answer to thooe others which meet hers in their first startled i iivtinum. * tic mruu|j\imau. Early History of Pittsburgh. The investment of all there was of Pittsburgh at the time by the victo rious army of General Forbes was completed November 25, 1758, the day following the blowing up of Fort Du quesne by the French and the flight of them -and their Indian allies. The small and scattered forces command ed by the dying General Forbes, who had insisted on being brought on for the celebration of the fall of the fort, assembled at the "meeting of the wa ters,” one strong detachment under General Armstrong having come down from Kittaning by hasty marching, at which plnce they had fought a severe battle with the Indians, the general being later honored by having the county named for him of which Kit taning is the county seat. War Songs. King George's troops march well to the Tipperary song, but is It possible that the sultan's forces are hiking along to the tune "Turkey in tho Straw?"—Cleveland Plain Dealer mmmm—tmm i~Ti UNPROFITABLE ACRES FATAL TO SUCCESS Fir and Cedar Stump Land—Good Soil, Eut Very Expensive to Clear. (Prepared by the United States Depart ment of Agriculture.) "Low-yielding acres, like boarder' cows, are often fatal to successful farming," according to J. C. McDowell of the office of farm management. United States department of agricul ture, in the new year book. "Our farm survey records show that areas of poorly drained, compact and sour soils, or soils low in humus, greatly 1 reduce net profits. Sometimes these records show that os much as 30 per cent of the entire farm acreage does not produce enough to pay its way. "One farm in Wisconsin, on which records were recently taken, has 40 acres of poorly drained land that in Its present condition is practically worthless. Twenty-five dollars per acre spent in drainage will make this 40-acre tract the equal of any in that district, and good land is selling there at $150 per acre. A small portion of similar land on this farm has already been tile-drained and is now produc ing a fair profit on each acre so im proved. * "The successful business man al ways tries to weed out all unprofitable enterprises and to expand those that pay a profit. Unprofitable acres can not always be disposed of as readily as boarder cows, but usually they can be Improved until they become profit bearing. If the income from such land rannot be increased it is quite possi ble that the labor spent upon it can be reduced until the income at least pays a little more than the cost of labor. Itemize Before Purchasing. "In buying a farm, unprofitable acres that cannot easily be made prof itable should ordinarily be considered as having little or no agricultural value. They may even be a burden to their owner, in which case they have a negative value. A farmer was about to buy a quarter-section farm Stony Land—Very Hard to Clear and Not Worth Much When Cleared. In the corn belt at $100 per acre. This appeared to him to be a very reason able price for a farm in that region, : until a careful analysis of the proposi i tion called his attention to the large ] amdunt of waste land on the farm. ’ Actual measurements and careful es timates furnished the following data: 80 acres rich, sandy loam, not stony, not rough, gi ntly sloping, well ) drained; actual value $125 per acre, $125x80 . $10,000 45 acres poor land, sandy, stony, rough, hilly, probably of little or no agricultural value; actual value . 0 l. acres poor pasiure land, wet land that can be drained, but that can not he drained at a profit; actual vnlue $10 per acre; $10X25 . 350 Buildings . 2,450 Total . $12,S00 ^ H2.800-MCO- $80. “These figures gave the farm, includ ing buildings, a value of $80 per acre, though a part of it was worth consid erably more than the average price per acre asked for the farm. An Item , ized study of the farm, acre by acre, and a detailed study of fences, build ings and other improvements, should ■ always be made before purchasing. J Such investigation often calls atten tion to enough unprofitable acres to ■top the sale. Utilization of Unprofitable Acres. “To what extent and at what rate we Bhould attempt to decrease the number of unprofitable acres depends largely on the increased demand for agricultural products. The law of di minishing returns prevents the re clamation of waste land until the ris ing prices or cheaper methods of pro duction make such action practicable. Frequently it pays better to spend time and money in the further Im provement of acres that are now prof itable rather than in the reclamation of less desirable land. “Much money and valuable time is lost each year in almost every local* ’ ity in the attempt to put unprofitable acres on a paying basis. Lack of sat isfactory agricultural credit forces many a deserving family to waste time in trying to get a start on acres that moneyed men pass by. Misleading ad vertisements and inflated magazine articles have lured many a family to give up a comfortable living in the city to drag out a miserable existence in toil and worry on worthless land. Lack of knowledge of the ^business side of farming is largely responsible for loss in the management of unprof itable acres. The problem of how to prevent a waste of money, time and energy in the attempt to develop worthless land Is worthy of careful study. At best such waste can only partially be prevented. The pity of it is that so much of thi3 loss falls on those who can least afford to lose. "Every farmer who owns unprofit able land should make a detailed ex amination of his farm, acre by acre, to detect all unprofitable areas. Next, he should determine the approximate cost of making each acre pay its way. Such study will disclose what and how much is needed in the way of manure, commercial fertilizer, drain age or other preparation, to produce satisfactory crop yields. This analy tical study of each portion of the farm will sometimes call attention to many acres that cannot be cultivated prof itably. It is better to leave such land in permanent pasture, or even to let it lie idle, than to work it at a loss. The farm not only furnishes a borne, but it is a place of business. As such, each enterprise and acre should re ceive individual attention, and, so far as practicable, the entire farm should be placed on a paying basis.” ERADICATION OF CORN SMUT Only Method Is to Cut Off Smutty Stalks and Burn Them—No Treatment of Seed. (By O. M. ALJ.YN, Illinois Experiment Station.) There is no treatment of seed corn for smut. The spores which cause smut in corn live over from one year until the next in manure, soil, refusi, etc. In the summer, under favorab,M ■ conditions these spores which irtay have wintered in the soil or may h&Wa been hauled to the field in the manure,*’*' find lodgment on the tender parts of the corn plant, usually by the action of the wind, and start to grow. Tlio source of the spore is not the seed corn, therefore, treatment will do no good. The only method of erad ication i£ to cut off the smutty stalks and burn them. This, of course, is im practical. FASTENING WIRES TO POST Difficult Problem Said to Have Been Successfully Worked Out—Idea Looks Sensible. A new way to fasten the wires to concrete posts is being tried out suc cessfully, it is claimed. If it works well a real triumph will have been Wires Fastened to Poat. won. for the question of how to futon wire to concrete posts has been a diffi cult one. Tho new device consists of a slot made at an angle in the post, while a vertical slit is made to connect with the outside cut. The wire is placed in tho slot while loose, and when tightened cannot get out of the groove. Tho idea looks sensible.