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iPAma Kafcriiv?Greei\ fetratioixs &C I) Rhodes COPYRIGHT 1914- S' DODD. A\EAD CQMPANS/ " ' ' " T " SYNOPSIS. A curious crowd of neighbors invade the mysterious home of Judge Ostrander, county Judge and eccentric recluse, fol lowing a veiled woman who has gained entrance through the gates of the high double barriers surrounding the place. The woman has disappeared but the Judge la found in a cataleptic state. The Judge awakes. Miss Weeks explains to him what has occurred during his seizure. He secretly discovers the whereabouts of the veiled woman She proves to bo the wid ow of a man tried before the-Judge and electrocuted for murder years before. Her daughter Is engaged to the Judge’s son. from whom he Is estranged, but the mur der is between the lovers. She plans to clear her husband's memory and asks the Judge's aid. Alone in lier room Deborah Scovllle reads the newspaper clippings telling the story of the murder of Alger non Etheridge by John Scovllle In Dark Hollow, twelve years before. The Judge and Mrs. Scovllle meet at Spencer’s Folly and she shows him how, on the day of the murder, she saw the shadow of a man, whittling a stick and wearing a long peaked cap. The Judge engages her anu her daughter Reuther to live with him In his mysterious home. Deborah and her lawyer. Black, go to the police station and see the stick used to murder Etheridge. She discovers a broken knife-blade point embedded in It. Deborah and Reuther go to live with the Judge. Deborah sees a portrait of Oliver, the judge's son. with a black band painted across the eyes. That night she flnds, in Oliver’s room, a cap with a peak like the shadowed one. and a knife wtth a broken blade-point Anony mous letters Increase her suspicions CHAPTER IX—Continued. “1 have been told—” thus Deborah easily proceeded, “that for a small house yours contains the most won derful assortment of interesting ob jects Where did you ever get them?" “My father was a collector, on a very small scale of course, and my mother had a passion for hoarding which prevented anything from going out of this house after It had once come into it.” “My husband—” began Mrs. Sco vllle. thoughtfully. Miss Weeks stared in consternation at Mrs. Scovllle, who hastened to say: “You wonder that I can mention my husband Perhaps you will not be so surprised when 1 tell you that in ray eyes he is a martyr, and quite guiltless of the crime for which he was pun ished." "You think that?" There was real surprise in the manner of the ques tioner Mrs. Scoville's brow cleared. She was pleased at this proof that her affairs had not yet reached the point of general gossip. “Miss Weeks. lam a mother. I have a young and lovely daughter Can I look in her innocent eyes and believe her father to have so forgotten his re sponsibilities as to overshadow her life with crime? No,-1 will not believe it. Circumstances were in favor of his conviction, but he never lifted the stick which struck down Algernon Etheridge ’’ Miss Weeks, who had sat quite still during the utterance of these remarks, fidgeted about at their close, with what appeared to the speaker, a sud den and quite welcome relief “Oh!" she murmured: and said no more, it was not a topic she found easy of discussion The sadness which now spread over the very interesting countenance of her visitor, offered her an excuso for the introduction of n far more mo mentous topic; one she had burned to introduce, but had not known how “Mrs. Scoville, 1 hear that Judge Ostrander has got your daughter a pi ano That is really a wonderful thing for him to do Not that he is so close with his money, but that he has al ways been so set against all gayety and companionship. I suppose you did not know the shock it would be to him when you asked Uela to let you into the gates " “No! I didn't know. But it is ail' right now. The judge seems to wel- j come the change. Miss Weeks, did | you know Algernon Etheridge well l enough to tell me if he was as good j and irreproachable a man as they all l say?" “He was a good man. but he had a dreadfully obstinate streak in his dis position and very set ideas. I have heard that he and the judge used to argue over a point for hours And he was most always wrong For in stance, he was wrong about Oliver." “Oliver?" “Judge Ostrandrr's son, you know Mr. Etheridge wanted him to study for a professorship: but the boy was determined to go into journalism, and you sde what a success he has made of it. As h professor he would prob ably have been a failure. “Was this difference of opinion on the calling he should pursue the cause of ("diver's leaving home in the way he did?” continued Deborah, conscious of walking on very thin Ice But Miss Weeks rather welcomed than resented this curiosity Indeed, she was never tired of enlarging upon the Ostranders “I have never thought so. The iudge would not quarrel with Oliver on so small a point as that My Idea Is, though I never talk of It much, that they had a great quarrel over Mr Etheridge. Oliver never liked the old student; I've watched them and, I've seen He bated his coming to the house so much; he hated the way his father singled him out and deferred to him and made him the confident of all his troubles When they went on their walks, Oliver always hung back. and more than once I have seen him make a grimace of distaste when his father urged him forward. He was only a boy, I know, but his dislikes meant something, and if it ever hap pened that he spoke out his whole mind, you may be sure that some very bitter words passed.” Was tliis meant os an innuendo? Impossible to tell. Such 1 nervous, fussy little bodies often possess miDds of unexpected subtlety. Deborah gave up all hope of understanding her, and, accepting her statements at their face value, effusively remarked: “You must have a very superior mind to draw such conclusions from the little you have seen. I have heard many explanations given for the breach you name, but never any so reasonable." A flash from the spinster's wary eye, then a burst of courage and -the quick •retort: “And what explanation does Oliver himself give? You ought to know, Mrs. Scoville.” The attack was as sudden as it was unexpected. Deborah flushed and trimmed her sails for this new tack, and insinuating gently, “Then you have heard—" waited for the enlight enment these words were likely to evoke. It came quickly enough. “That he expected to marry your daughter? Oh, yes, Mrs. Scoville; it's common talk here now. I hope you don't mind my mentioning it” Deborah’s head went up. She faced the other fairly, with the look born of mother passion, and mother passion only. "Reuther is blameless in this mat ter,” she protested. “She was brought up in ignorance of what I felt sure would prove a handicap and misery to her. She loves Oliver as she will never love any other man, but when she was told her real name and understood fully what that name carries with it she declined to saddle him with her shame. That’s her story, Miss Weeks: one that hardly fits her appearance, which is very delicate. And. let me add, having once accepted her father's name, she refuses to be known by any 1 other I have brought her to Shelby ; where to our own surprise and Reu , j ther’s great happiness, we have been j taken in by Judge Ostrander, an act of kindness for which we are very grate ’ fuL” Miss Weeks got up, took down one of her rarest treasures from aa old etagere standing in one corner and laid it in Mrs. Scoville’s hand "For your daughter,” she declared "Noble girl! 1 hope she will be happy.” The mother was touched, but not quite satisfied yet of the giver's real feelings towards Oliver, and, after thanking her warmly, remarked: “There is but one thing that will ever make Reuther happy, and that she cannot have unless a miracle oc curs. Oh, Ido not wonder you smile. This is not the day of miracles. But if my belief in my husband could be shared: if 1 should be enabled to clear his name, might not love and loyalty be left to do the rest? Wouldn't the judge's objections, ii\ that case, be re moved? What do you think. Miss Weeks?’’ "There! we will say no more about it.” The little woman’s attitude and voice were almost prayerful “You have judgment enough for two Be sides, the mii-acle has not happened,” she interjected, with a smile which seemed to say it never would Deborah sighed. Whether or not i It was quite an honest expression of j her feeling we will not inquire She | was there for a definite purpose and J her way to it was, as yet, far from j plain. The negative with which she j followed up this sigh was one of sor rowful acceptance She made haste, however, to qualify it. "But I have not given up ail hope I know as well as any one how impos sible the task must prove, unless 1 can i tight upon fresh evidence And where am 1 to get that? Only from some new witness ” Miss Weeks' polite smile took on an expression of indulgence This roused Deborah's pride and, hesitating no longer, she anxiously remarked: "1 have sometimes thought that Oliver Ostrander might be that wit ness. He certainly was in the ravine the Dlght Algernon Etheridge was struck down.” Had she been an experienced actress of years she could not have thrown into this question a greater tack of all innuendo Miss Weeks, already un der her fascination, heard the tone but never thought to rotice the quick rise and fall of her visitor’s uneasy bosom, and so unwarned, responded with all due frankness: “I know be was But how will that help you? He had no testimony to give in relation to this crime, or he would have given It." "That is true." The admission fell mechanically from Deborah’s lips; she was not conscious, even of making it Then, as her emotion chokec her into silence, she sat with piteous eyes searching Miss Weeks’ face, till she had recovered her voice, when she added this vital question: THE CITIZEN. FREDERICK, BCD. “How did you know that Oliver was in the ravine that night? I only guessed It” “Well, It was In this way. I do not often keep my eye on my neighbors (oh. no. Miss Weeks!), but that night I chanced to be looking over the way Just at the minute Mr. Etheridge came out, and something I saw in his man ner and in that of the judge who had followed h>m to the door, and in that of Oliver who, cap on head, was lean ing towards them from a window over the porch, made mo think that a con troversy was going on between the two old people of which Oliver was the object. This naturally interested me, and I watched them long enough to see Oliver suddenly raise his flst and shake it at old Etheridge; then, in great rage, slam down the window and disappear inside. The next minute, and before the two below had done talking, I caught another glimpse of him as he dashed around the corner of the house on his way to the ra vine.” “And Mr. Etheridge?” “Oh, he left soon after. I watched him as he went by, his long cloak flap ping in the wind. Little did l think he would never pass my window again." So interested were they both, that neither for the moment realized the strangeness of the situation or that it was in connection with a crime for which the husbflnd of one of them had suffered, tuey were raking up this past, and gossiping over its petty de tails. Mrs. Scoville sighed and said: “It couldn’t have been very long after you saw him that Mr. Etheridge was struck?” "Only some twenty minutes. It takes ju3t that long for a man to walk from this corner to the bridge." “And you never heard where Oliver went?” “It was never talked about at the time. Later, when some hint got about of his having been in the ravine that night, he said he bad gone up the ravine, not down It. And we all be lieved him, madam.” “Of course, of course. What a dis criminating mind you have, Miss Weeks, and what a wonderful memory! To think that after all these years you can recall that Oliver had a cap on his head when he looked out of the win dow at bis father and Mr. Etheridge. If you were asked, I have no doubt you could tell its very color Was it the peaked one?” “Yes, I could swear to it,” And Miss Weeks gave a little laugh, which “Was the Difference of Opinion the Cause of Oliver’s Leaving?” sounded incongruous enough to De borah in whose heart at that moment a leaf was turned upon the past, which left the future hopelessly blank "Must you go?” Deborah bad risen mechanically. “Don't. I beg. till you have relieved my mind about Judge Ostrander 1 don't suppose that there is really anything behind that aoor of his which Is would alarm anyone to see?" Then, Deborah understood Miss Weeks. But she was ready for her "I've never seen anything of the •jo.t,” said she, "and 1 make up his bed In that very room every morn ing ” "Oh! And Miss Weeks drew a deep breath. “No article of immense value. Much as that rare old bit of real Satsu ma in the cabinet over there?" “No," answered Deborah, with all the patienco she could muster. “Judge Ostrander seems very simple in Lis tastes. I doubt if he would know Sat suma If he saw it.” Miss Week sighed. “Yes, he has never expressed the least wish to look o-.>r my shelves. So the double fence means nothing?" "A whim.” ejaculated Deborah, mak ing quietly fer the door. “The judge likes to walk at night when quite through with his work; and he doesn't like his ways to be noted But he pre fers the lawn now. 1 hear his step out there every night “ “Well, it's something to know that he leads a more normal life than for merly!” sighed the little lady as she prepared to usher her guest out. “Come again, Mrs Scoville; and, if * may, I will drop In and see you some day.” Deborah accorded her permission and made her (Inal adieux. She felt as if a hand which had been stealing up her chest had suddenly gripped her throat, choking her. She had founo the man who had cast that fatal shadow down the ravine, twelve years before. CHAPTER X. Anonymous Letters. Deborah ro-entered the judge’s honae a stricken woman She reached her room door and was about to enter, when at a sudden thought she paused and let her eyes wander down the hall till they settled on another door, the one she had closed behind her the night before, with the deep resolve never to . .gain except under compulsion A few minutes later she was standing in one of the dim corners of Oliver’s musty room, reopening a book which she had taken down from the shelves on her former visit. She remembered it from its torn back and tho fact that it was an algebra Turn ing to the fly leaf, she looked again at the names and schoolboy phrases she had seen scribbled all over its surface for the one which she remembered as. “I hate algebra." It had not been a very clearly writ ten "algebra,’’ and she would never have given this interpretation to the scrawl, had she been in a better mood Now another thought had come to her and she wanted to see the word again Was she glad or sorry to have yielded to this impulse, when by a closer in spection she perceived that the word was not "algebra’' at all, but "Algernon, I hate A Etheridge.—l hate A E. —I hate Algernon E.," all over the page, and here and there on other pages, sometimes in characters so rubbed and faint as to be almost unreadable and again so pressed into the paper by a vicious pencil point as to have broken their way through to the leaf under neath. The work of an ill-conditioned schoolboy! but —this hate dated back many years. Paler than ever, and with hands trembling almost to the point of incapacity, she put the book back and flew to her own room, the prey of thoughts bitter almost to mad ness. It was the second time in her life that she had been called upon to go through this precise torture. Then, only her own happiness and honor were involved; now It was Reuther’s: and the fortitude which sustained her through the ignominy of her own trou ble failed her at the prospect of Reu tlier's And again, the two cases were not equal Her husband had had traits which, in a manner, had prepared her for the ready suspicion of people But silver was a man of reputation and kindly heart; and yet, in the course of time this had come, and the question once agitating her as to whether Reuther was a fit mate for him and now evolved itself into this: Was he a fit mate for her? (TO BE CONTINUED.) LIGHT ON JOHN’S “BARGAIN” But Unsuspicious Mrs. Brown Could Only See Humorous Mistake Made by Store Clerk. ”1 see you have one of those cake pans that Bargun's ten cent store sold last week at their special sale,” said Mrs. White, as she was visiting in Mrs. Brown's kitchen one morning. “Yes. Isn’t that good value for ten cents?” replied Mrs. Brown, holding the pan up proudly. “Indeed it is.” said Mrs. White, tak ing the pan in her hands. "I wanted one, but the good ones were all gone before I could be waited on. How did you manage it?" “Oh. I sent John,” smiled Mrs. Brown. “I was busy and couldn’t go that morning, and you know John passes there each morning about eight o’clock, when the store opens So I asked him if he wouldn’t stop and get me a pan, and he said he would." “I should think you would be afraid | to trust him to buy one. Some of ' them were quite badly damaged you know.’’ said Mrs. White. “Oh, John is careful," Mrs. Brown ; assured her “He always gets the best of everything. The one he got me is absolutely perfect as far as I can see." “Well, isn’t that wonderful! I didn’t see a perfect one in the store. But : didn't your husband object to carry i ing the pan home? Mine would, and ■ they never deliver anything sold at the special sales.” “They delivered this," said Mrs. , Brown. “John is well known and the stores are anxious to accommodate him. Then he has away of getting , things done.” “I shall certainly send Robert to | Rargun’s the next time they have a special sale,” said Mrs. White. “Why. this pan is just as good as the ones they sell for a quarter at Jones’ hard ' ware store, next door to Bargun's." “Yes, it Is exactly the same," said Mrs. Rrown, triumphantly. “I thought it was, but I wanted to make sure; so 1 I went into the hardware store the 1 other day and asked to see their pans. They showed me one for a quarter that is exactly like mine. I told the 1 man i had got a pan just like it for ten ‘ cents, and then he made the funniest * mistake —he said he had sold John one only a few days ago. Wasn’t that queer?’’ • > "It certainly was,” said Mrs. White 1 —Youth’s Companion, t Cost of Fame. t Soon after victory had declared it self in favor of the British arms at 1 the memorable battle of Blenheim the Duke of Marlborough, in traversing the ranks, observed a soldier leaning in a pensive manner on the butt-end . of his musket. His grace Immedi- I ately accosted him thus; “Why so pensive, my friend, after so glorious a l victory?" “It tfiay be glorious." re s plied ibe son of Mars, “but 1 have j only earned fourpence by contributing rl to all this acquisition of fame!” CHANGES IN COATS FEW ADOPTED STYLES WILL BE CAR. RIED INTO SPRING. Separate Wraps Will Rely on Fabric* for Difference* In Effect*—Serge* of All Weave* and Finishes in Favor. The generally adopted lines of nar row shoulder and wide skirt will be carried into spring, and the separate coats will rely on the fabrics for any change in effect Which material will you have? There are the new covert cloths that have always stood the tests of time, and return from time to time after a little rest. The suits of this material have been such good friends that the separate coats are to profit from their example. Covert cloths in tan and green will be in voguo. Serges of all finishes and weaves will be in high favor. Those in dark blue and green and all shades of brown will be in order. They will be matched in the color of braid and wooden buttons and trimmed with these practical materials. Gabardines will also bo in good standing for the new coats. This ma terial is good in color, and has a wearing quality that is a desideratum when topcoats are considered. Novelty worsteds and woolens in light weights will be made in sports coats and topcoats for the informal i hours. The raglan sleeve and high belt line will be in evidence and will be of leather, suede cloth or soft suede. Checks and broken plaid effects are I to be used, and the trimming will be in a color that repeats the shade of one thread In the weave. PANTALETS UNDER SKIRT This striking gown might have stepped from a daguerreotype of the forties, but it will actually be worn at a pre lenten dance. The skirt, a quaint shirred and twisted affair of gold colored taffeta with a tucked ruffle, is lifted to show the pantalets of ruffled tulle. The bodice is exceed-: ingly negligible, a wisp of tulle over I the shoulder and short puffed sleeves ! of taffeta being all there is to it I GOOD USE FOR THE EYELET May Be Employed Effectively in Many Ways—Example In a Recent Centerpiece. The eyelet 's quite as accommodat ing as the French knot, and can be used effectively for so many different designs, varying in size from a mere transparent point to the size of the natural grape, although the necessity for the latter size is rare. An up-to-the-minute art needlework shop recently showed an effective cen terpiece of blackberries and their foli age. The blackberries instead of being done in the usual French knot stitch, wore formed of eyelets, the tiniest kind. The eyelets changed the center piece from a rather commonplace de sign to one of distinct individuality, and the sales person back of the coun ter said the store couldn’t keep enough of the designs in stock. It is sdfje tlmes necessary for the blackberries to have their dots spread farther apart for the eyelets than for the knots, al though it must be remembered that the eyelets are of the tiniest and that fine thread and a fine needle are used in the working of them. The California pepper design is also displayed to best advantage when • . worked in eyelets instead of solid stitch. ! A centerpiece with a grape border is ■ ten times as effective in eyelet work 1 for the grapes as when the grapes are ' worked In solid stitch or oulllpe. ' I Huckleberries and mulberries should k I also be worked in eyelets. Remember j that if the eyelet edges are worked too ' I heavily the artistic effect desired in r j such designs is lost. Flower centers OF LATEST COT AND DESIGN Two Costume* In Which Wearer May Be Assured She Is Thoroughly Up-to-Date. Walking Costume.— For fine cloth or serge, our smart model is well suited. It has the shift made with a plain lower part and deep-pleated tunic. The coat is short and loose-fitting and has the lower part set on with wrapped seam; satin is used to face the collar and cuffs. Hat of straw to match, trimmed with ribbon and little wings. Materials required; Seven yards 48 inches wide, onc-half yard satin 22 inches wide, two yards coat lining 40 inches wide. ■ Tweed Costume. Gray tweed checked with green would be very useful for country wear made up in this style. The skirt is a two-piece pattern with wrapped seam at left side front and right of back. The loose sports coat has Magyar shoulders, with sleeves set Into a dou ble stitched seam. The collar is of the same material cut in a different way; it is stitched twice round the edge. Collar and cuffs of plain green cloth; a very large button fastens the belt; smaller ones are sewn on the cuffs. Gray felt hat, trimmed with green velvet and a small mount. Material required for the costume: Five yards 46 inches wide. USE ALCOHOL ON THE HAIR Especially If It Is Apt to Get Dusty and Unmanageable Is This Recommended. If the hair is dusty and unraanage*- able after a journey of any sort, try using alcohol to make it fluffy. The alcohol will dry in a few moments and the hair will be ready then to arrange. ■ Many women who have taken a rail road journey of several hours' dura tion to a wedding or dance have found their hair, owing to the heat and dust of the journey, ouite heavy and dirty, and have despaired of getting it in shape in time for the festivities. A shampoo takes too long to be indulged in while one is dressing—and some times it leaves the hair too fluffy for immediate managing. To get back to the alcohol treat ment Part the hair and rub a little alcohol on a piece of gauze on the scalp nntil it is free from dust. Then rub the hair about the brows and ears and the nape of the neck with the alcohol. Of course, it should first have I been brushed as free as possible from' ' dust. Then let the hair hang loosely ] until the alcohol has dried out. The I hair will be light and fluffy. may often bo eyeleted instead of worked solidly or in French knots, and there are ever so many other designs which eyelets will enhance. BEST OF BRAIDED RAG RUGS Good Effect is Easily Attainable b> Woman With Skill and Proper Sense of Color. Everyone would have one or more braided rag rugs if they knew how much they are admired. Braided with four strands, using only two colors, two strands black (old stockings are fine), with two of some color, make a nice rug. To sew, cut braid any length desired and sew with a strong thread to within about two inches of each end, letting this be for a fringe. When sewed together, each color forms a stripe. To make the stripe run one way always begin braiding by putting first strand over; to make stripe run the opposite di rection begin braiding by putting the first strand under, lacking enough of any two colors, use different colors in braids for the outer rows, or if it in hit or miss sew all tight ones together and all dark ones to gether. then use two strands of each. As you work you will bo able to i plan many ways of braiding the | colors that you have. Interesting Coats. There are some interesting import | ed coats made of big shawls or steam ; er rugs, with fringe around the hot I tom and edging the cape section that | falls over the sleeves, or sometimes | edging the wide collar instead.