Newspaper Page Text
1~91 -1 Johnslon1
taeam f3(NY #/aialosthv YL7ABrae
Into the Maelstrom.
They say that coming events cast
their shadows before, but certainly I
had no intimation when I left my office
in the afternoon of April twelfth, of
the maelstrom of mystery and tragedy
Into which I was about to plunge. I
was worried and anxious, it is true,
Out only as every young man is who
Ands himself for the first time deeply
In love. There was no portent of evil,
S o foreshadowing of the terrible chain
of events that all but destroyed my
beHe? in my fellow-man, and left its
mark so deep upon my memory that I
do not believe time ever can wholly
Even now that it is all ended, and
the shadow which hung so heavily
over the household of my sweetheart
has been dispelled and the hand whose
devilish ingenuity brought shame and
grief and wreck to so many innocent
lives is paying the penalty behind
son bars-even now I shudder at
he sight of anything yellow. A scrap
of yellow paper vividly recalls-and I
tear always will recall-the painful
events of the last few weeks.
I had been waiting ever since my re
turn from court for a telephone mes
sage that had not come-the word
from Louise which I felt would decide
my fate. I had written to her the
might before, asking if I might go to
her in the afternoon to speak on a sub
sect of importance. I knew she would
understand the object of my letter,
(though all that I had asked was that
she would telephone me earlier than
our whether she would be at home.
From my window I had watched the
'eat hand on the Metropolitan tower
clock creep slowly to twelve. .As the
chimes began to sing the hour of four
I felt that 1 could bear the suspense
no longer. Message or no message, I
would go to her at once. Before the
vibrant note of "On-n-n-n-e" had died
away I closed my desk with a bang.
As the fourth stroke reverberated I
stood with hat and overcoat on, my
hand on the knob of my office door,
hoping yet to hear my telephone ring.
Impatiently I waited a minute and
then dashed toward the elevator. The
telephone, I learned afterward, rang
almost the minute I was out of the
room and Louise's voice called fran
tically for me, but I was not there to
It was only a short walk up Madison
avenue to the home of General Far
rish, the father of Louise. With the
doubt that possesses every lover on
sech a mission as this, I walked it,
mow laggardly, as misgivings filled my
heart, now quickening my pace as
hpe rested my fears. As I turned
thb cerser into the street where the
1YTiah home is situated my steps
1'ese4eaden. What right had I to ask
, arrish to be my wife? The
.daugkte of a man worth mamy mil
lions, a girl of exquisite beauty and
of many accomplishments, one who
could choose a husband where she
willed-what right had I to lope that
she would ever consent to become the
wife of a struggling young lawyer
such as I? To be sure, my family was
of the best With my earnings and
the modest little fortune my father
had left me I would be able to provide
for her. But as yet. though my pros
pects were bright, I amounted to noth
ing in my profession. It would be
years before I could hope to give my
wife the luxuries to which Louise Far
rish had been accustomed.
On the other hand, I felt that with
louise as my wife I could do 1,eat
things. I loved her with a great hove.
I felt that her affection and comp*ulon
ship would be inspiration enough for
any man to conquer the world. I
hoped that she loved me. I recalled
the trifles which seemed to show, at
least, that she found pleasure in my
society. I tried to comfort myself, too,
by remembering that General Farrish
was a self-made man, that when he
married he was as poor as I, if not
poorer. I knew that be liked me and
had confidence in me. Was it then,
after all, I asked myself presuming
in me to hope that Louis. would lis
ten to me and that her father would
onseno t to her becoming my wife-
yet, why had she not telephoned?
As I dragged my hesitating feet
across the street I was aroused from
my reverie by the rush of an automo
bile that all but knocked me over.
With an angry imprecation at such
reckless driving I glanced up and!
recognaied the man who occupied iL.
He was standing beside his chauffeur,
es if ready to leap out. It was Doc
tor Wilcox, a noted practitioner who
attended the Farrish family, and whom
I had met at their home. I plunged
forward in anxious dismay as I saw
the machine halt before the Farrish
door and the doctor jump aut and run
up the steps.
My first, my only thought. was of
Loulse. What could have happened?
She must be ill-desperately ill as the
deetor's haste seggmested. Did not this
eplalta her faluhre to telephone T Could
Sbe that she was ded? Whas
,thoughts flashed through my mind I
cannot analyze further. I only know
I reached the house but a step behind
the doctor. He had hardly passed
through the door when I, too, flung
myself into the hall and stood there
swaying, with not voice enough to ask
a question of the white-faced, horror
stricken maid who had answered the
"Where is sae?" I heard the doctor
ask as he flung his coat to the maid
and started up the stairs. Before she
could answer him there were hurried
foot steps on the upper landing and
Louise peered down, the anxiety in
her face lessening at the welcome
sight of the doctor.
I gave a silly cry of joy and started
up the stairs. Doctor Wilcox was
ahead of me, three steps at a time,
and, following Louise's silent direc
tion, had disappeared in a room on
the second floor, when I, with out
stretched arms, approached her. I did
not think to ask what had happened
or who was ill or what the matter
was. My only thought was one of joy
that she was alive and well. What
mattered if Louise was safe? And the
emotion that filled me was still more
intensified when she ran to me, and
throwing herself into my arms, cried
"Oh, Harding, thank God, you've
It was almost the first time she had
called me by my name, certainly the
first that she ever had given herself
to my embrace, and I held her close
ly, thrilled through at the thought
that it was to me she turned in time
of trouble. Then, all at once, I was
aroused by the opening of the door
through which Doctor Wilcox had gone
and the appearance of a maid, who
ran along the hall.
"What is it? What has happened?"
"Katharine," moaned Louise, "Kath
arine-she has killed herself!"
For a mnoment I was stunned. The
first thought that came to me was the
impossibility of it. What place had
tragedy in this happy, quiet home?
Familiar enough, though I was, with
deeds of violence, with self-murder as
"Oh, Harding, Thank God, You've Come!"
It thrust itself forward in the courts
and in the lurid head-lines of the
newspapers, that such a thing could
intrude on the peace of this well-or
dered household seemed beyond my
" I telephoned to you, but you were
not in your office," sobbed Louise.
still clinging to me in the abandon
ment of grief.
"When did you telephone?" I asked,
even under such circumstances rejole
ing to learn}that she =ad telephoned
"Just after she did tt-I don't know
when it was-it seems ages ago I
couldn't-get you and-I thought-you
would never come-then--then-I- tel
phoned for the doctor and father."
Just afer she did it! I bad bees
trying to make myself believe it must
have been an accident, though from
Louise's manner I feared the worst
Yet Katharine Farrish was the last
person in the world of whom one
would think in connection with sui
cide. A quiet, reserved g!rl of great
strength of character, several years
older than Louise, her dignity and her
wcll-considered actions had led me to
believe her far less emotional than
her younger sister.
"It was an accident, of course," I
said, though doubtfully.
"'No!" gasped Louise, shuddering
anew at the thought of the horror she
had just witnessed. "'I heard the shot
and found her on the divan in her
room. The revolver was still in her
hand-her own revolver."
'For the first time it came to me
with sudden vivid force that in the
elder sister's life, behind the smiling
mask of reserve she always wore,
was hidden some secret sorrow. I un
derstood, now, that far-away look in
her eyes. I felt there may have been
-there must have been--concealed
the knowledge of some mystery that
impelled her to this awful deed. Yet
little did I suspect whither my efforts
to find why Louise's sister had shot
herself would lead me. Little did 1
imagine in what a web of criminal
cunning, of baffling crime, of hidden
evil, I would find myself.
As I strove to soothe Louise's agi
tation the doctor appeared at the door
way and imperiously beckoned me. I
tried to persuade Louise to wait out
side, but she clung to me like a
frightened child and insisted on ac
companying me into the room.
"Here," said the doctor in the curt
tones of authority, "I want you to
help me carry her into a quieter place
before I operate."
"This Way," said Louise, recovering
herself as soon as she saw the Oppor
tunity to be useful, "into my rooms.
They are off the street and much qui
I saw the look with which she tried
to read the doctor's face and put the
question she dared not ask.
"Will she live?"
Doctor Wilcox shook his head
"She is just alive and that is all
I can not tell yet whether or not we
can save her. There must be abso
lute quiet. I am going to probe for
the bullet and see what course it has
taken. Please telephone at once for
these two men. They are my hospi
tal aides. As soon as they arrive I
As quickly as we had laid the sense
less girl on Louise's bed, I telephoned
for Doctor Wllcox's assistants, and
was fortunate in being able to reach
both immediately. Louise and the
maids meanwhile were kept busy by
the doctor preparing for the operation,
so it fell to my lot to break the news
to General Farrish when he arrived.
Louise had merely told him over the
telephone that Katharine had met
I with an accident, so he entered the
house almost wholly unprepared for
the shock my news gave him.
I had before seen strong men in
grief, but never had I witnessed such
a wave of heartrending agony as
swept over the general. He came into
his home erect, military, slightly per
turbed, but still in manner and bear
ing the vigorous old soldier, fully
master of his emotions. My words
that told him as gently as was pos
sible what had happened seemed to
sap all his vitality. His face became
ashen pale, his lips quivered, great
tears coursed down his cheeks, his
shoulders bent under the weight of
his gried and he tottered as It about
While he was load and proud d
both his daughters, the elder had ml
trays been his favorite. As is ofes
the case with fathers who have no
son, Katharine had been both son and
daughter to him. Since her mother's
death some years ago she had been
practically head of the household. It
was on her that he relied for every
thing, and it was with her that be
discussed all his business affairs. Such
association between them naturally
had strengthened the bonds into far
more than the ordinary father-end
"My poor little girl-Katharine-my
little Katharine," he moaned in tones
of agony that wrung my heart far
His first thought was to go to her,
but the doctor forbade his presence
in the room. I persuaded him to go
to his own apartments, leaving him in
the hands of his valet and promising
to keep him informed as to Katha
Deeply as I felt for him, it was of
Louise I thought most I wanted to be
with her constantly, to give her the
"Was It Mr. Crandall?" Asked Leaise
succor of my presence. As soon as
Doctor Wilcox's assistants arrived,
bringing with them a nurse, Luise
and I were both banished from the
room. Gently I drew her into a little
sitting-room, where, with the door
ajar, we waited to see if our aid might
be needed. Tearless sorrow amw
weighed heavily on her.
"Tell me everything," I said. with
my arm about her. "Why did she do
"I don't know," she eried out. "I
can't understand, it at all! There is
some mystery, some terrible mystefy
that I cannot fathom."
"When did you see your sister least?"
"We had luncheon together. O
was sweet and kind, as she always,
was, but I could see that sometha
was worrying her. We were to have
gone shopping together this afterneos
but she told me thatashe had an er.
rand that would make it impossible
for her to go with me. I had rs
ceived your note, so I told her that it
would suit me much better to put the
shopping of until tomorrow. Right
after luncheon she went out--whee, I
do not know. She did not use the ear
or call a taxi. All I know is that she
was gone about two hours. When she
came in I was arranging the owers
in the dining-room. I heard her enter
and came out into the halL She
walked right past me without a word
and went up-stairs to her own room. I
ran up after her, thinking she might
be ill, but just as I got to the door I
heard her turn the key. I understood
that she wished to be alome. About
half an hour later I heard a qound ke
a shot and rushed up-stairs, calling to
the servants. We found the door still
locked and we could hear her gean.
ing. I had the butler burst open the
door and there we found her, Just
where she was when you saw her, still
as death, with her own little revolver
clutched in her hand."
"What do you suppose made her
change her mind about going shopptea
with you?' I asked. "Did she receive
any letters or telegrams today?"
Louise thought for a moment be
fore answering, her slender form still
shaken with alsilent sobbing. Gently I
brushed away the tears that gathered
in her eyes and drew her to me aftl
her head was pillowed on my shoulder.
I doubt that if in her distress she no
ticed my action, save in the sense of
comfort that it brought her. How tr
rible it is to see the woman that youe
love suffer so pnuch and to feel power
less to do anything to help her!
"No," said Louise, "I am positive
Katharine received no letter or tate
gram today except an invitation or
two that we read at breakfast. We
were together practically all the time
until after luncheon."
"Perhaps some one telephoned to
her," I suggested.
Louise did not recall any mesA
We summoned her sister's maid, who
was crouching outside the door like a
faithful anima an and put the questio
to her. She was in such a hysterieal
state that it was difeficult to make het
understand what we wanted, but inal
ly she remembered that there had
been a telephone call Just before
"Who wanted her?" asked Lewis
and I together.
The girl shook her head as if be
"Think, think," I commanded. "W
was the name? Who was it? If yot
answered the telephone, whoever t
was must have given his name."
Stupidly she shook her head agan.
"Was It Mr. Crandall?" asked lhe
Light came into Hilda's face at ems
"Now I remember," she excinelmal
"Dot was him. It was Mr. Crandall."
cro bs oinuTDcEa
NPlE cab never tell when you
do an act
Just what the result will be;
But with every deed you are sowing a
Though its harvest you may never see.
A FARMER'8 WIFE.
The farmer's wife who accepts tht
conditions of her mother, doing her
self what others could do as well, and
often better, is certainly a drudge be
cause she allows herself to be one.
Many women start out wrong, if
they expect nothing they get nothing.
no help In the hard places and no
share in the returns of their labot.
The average farmer's wife is up at
four or five in the morning, with
breakfast to prepare for family and
several men, for the farmer must have
help. Why does not she? He has all
the improvements on the market to
make his work lighter and returns bet
ter. Why does she go without the
mangle, which will Iron bed and ta
ble linen without heat and look as well
as it weeks of energy needed for
better things had been used upon It.
Why doesn't the farmer's wife have
a vacuum cleaner? A good one costs
but four or five dollars, which will
save many back-breaking hours'
sweeping dust, to be further agitated
by the duster.
There is the bread mixer which,
with a few twists of a man's strong
arm at night, will be such a help in
the making of bread.
The was mhin machine, a ood wring
er, plenty of tubs, a good cistern, a
wet sink in the kitchen and utensils
and conveniences to make work
easy should be demanded by the
housewife as soon as there is means
to put in a three-hundred dollar ea
gine. Is\it asktng too much to have
her washiag machine run by the ea
gine if it Is not in use sawin wood
or pumping water or grinding feed?
In many thousands of homes all the
wife has for spending money is what
she gets from butter and eggs, and
often the farmer has that. In how
many farm homes are there maga
sines and luxuries that cost as much
as the tobacco and treats which the
man of the bease indulges himself
The farmer's wife is the most Im
portant woman in the world today;
she sends out into business life more
sons and daughters than the city womn
sa. She should have conditions and
rights, privileges and belps that her
When this time comes there will be
more girls ready to live In God's beau
tit l country. Then the daughter will
be glad to take up the mothers work
Snot enough to help the
But to support bi after.
Row poor am t they tat have as pea
Gelatine, though not a food in Itself
Is a great addition and ornament to
food. It lends itself to so many beaus
tilul combinations that it is invaluable
in the cuisine.
Wash half a pound of prunes, add
half a cup of water and cook sutil
the prunes are soft. Remove the
stones and place the prunes In wert
molds. Put a heaplng tablespoosatl
of granulated elatine into a smuee
pan, add a little cold wter to soften.
then a cup of boiling water. Add a
cupful of fruit fjuice, the strained juitee
of two oranges and a tablespoonfutl of
lemon juice, a half cup of sngar, or
less, depending on the sweetnes of
the trait Juice Stir antil the sugar Is
dissolved, after which it is strained
I over the prunes. Serve with whipped
cream on top.
Coffee Jelly.-To one captfl of
I strong coee, add three teacUphfs of
water and three tablespoonfuls of pew
dered gelatine sad six tablespooafuls
Sof sugar. Bring the sugar and water
tothe boiling point, then stir in the
I gelatine, and when dissolved add the
coffee. Poor Into a wet rig mold.
and when served fill the center with
Ssweetened whipped cream. Decorate
the edge of the plate with sweet wa
SGrape Fruit Jelly--Take three cup
futals of grapeftruit jfuie ad pulp, two
tablespoontfuls of lemon jlie, hal a
cup of sugar, one and a halt cuptafuls
of water, two heaplng tablespoonfuils
of gelatine. Dissolve the gelatine in
the water, add the juices to the sugar
and bring to the boiling point Add
tbhe gelatine and stratn into the halves
of grape fruit skWes. When frm serve
with whipped crseam on top.
Black Hand Methods.
I reoelved a letter from a trust
magnste today," aid the manager of
the campaign ftund.
"What does he want?"
"Wants to contibutkte Says he ha
hidden $5,000 in a hollow tree, and
demands that we go and get it."
How to Travel.
"When I go on a trip I never know
what I ought to take with ma"
"Oh. I do; it's quite simple. I take
all my dresses and leave behind an
.usbsed."-LA Vie Paristense
. . l s thhe
There are a lot of cheap skates vou
side the skating rinks.
De thrifty on little things like bluing. Don't
sesept water for bluing. Ask for Red Cross
Ball Blue, the extra good value blue. Adv.
At the Prison.
"Whit are you in for, my poor fel
"I'm afraid it's for keeps."
To prevent Malaria as far better than
to cure i, In malarial countries take a
dose of OXIDINE regularly one eeach week
and mve yourself from Chills and Fever
and other malarial troubles. Adv.
"How was the labor strike defeat
"It was done by capital manage
Can She Do It?
Zoology Professor-Miss Fluff, what
Is natural selection?
Flux-Natural selection is where a
young lady picks out a fellow with, ots
of money and meas him.
Not for Her.
"He seems to be so superficlal."
said Mrs Oldcastle.
"Yes," replied Mrs. Gottalotte,'as
she hung her $15,000 necklace over the
back of a chair. I've noticed that.
He's got half a dozen big. one stuffed,
that he claims he caught. I wouldn't
have such thingt in my dining room."
Anclents Knew of Elevators.
That the anient Romans knew
how to work lifts is the latest discov.
erT reported from Rome in connectiom
with the Palatine excavations. , Pr
Romulan remains have been foudd, I.
eluding 12 ancent lifts. One of the
latter, which descends lnto the esarllt
kaewa eity, Is now being cleaned and
put into working order for the Arch
geological Congress. /
S Clever Idea ef Collector.
Hare Is a rare specimen of buslnesa
humor, received the ot)er day by a
Londoa frm. It ran;
"Our cashier fell unconscious at Ms
desk this morning. Up to this time,
4 p. l., we have been unable to
get a word out of him except your
names. May we say to him, with a
view to his Immediate recovery, that
we have your check, as we think that
is what he has on hilt mind?"
Too Mach of a Gooeed Thing.
"I was very happy." said the e
fessor, "whel, after years of wooing,
she fmally said, 'Yes.' "
"But why did you break the en.
gasgement so soon after?' asked his
"Man, it was she that dissolved AR"
"Really?" said the friend, "How did
"It was due to my accursed absent
mindedness. When,.a ,ew days later.
I called at her ome,1 again asked
her to marry me."-Touth's Compaw
"PROUD AND GLAD"
ecauseh Maher Leoked o i ea
After ietteing ceoMe.
An Ohio woman was almost d'
racted with coffee dyspoesa and
kha theosaeds of others, thme dre
---ffiee--in outee was slowlW but
steadily underminalg her aerves
system r nd eaterferi g with atunl
digestion of food. (Tea is just as Jb
Jurious as coffee beause it costaute
esfefa, the poisonous drug ftod In
"oBr to yemar~," she writes, "I have
used codes. Have always bees siah
ly-had heart trouble and dyspesis
with uipers in stomach and mouth so
bad, sometimes, I was almost '
tracted and could hardly eat a thag
for a week.
*I could not sleep or nervousmss,
and when I would lie down at night
I'd belch up cofRee and my heart
would trouble me. 1t was like poise.
to me. I was th--oaly weghed 15
lbs., when I quit coffee and began to
"Froip the first day that klchli
and buralag in my somacb stoppoed
I could sleep as soundly as anyose
and, after the first month, whenever
I met any friends they would ask m
what was makisng me so fleshy ad
looking so well.
"Sometimes, before I could answer
qulck enough, one of the children or
my husband would say, 'Why, that is -
what Postum is doing for her'-they
were all so proud and glad.
"When I recommend it to anyone
I always tell them to follow diree
rtions in making Postum, as it is not
good to tstr if weak, but fine when
It has th. favor and rich brow
color." • riv n by PostUm o,
Battle Cr-., - fe
Read t~ rth book, "The Red to
WeI lvf. ai pic'ee k. "There's a rea
ris t andh.u and f e
Batl It · ~cl