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The Adventures of a Demobilized Officer Who Found Peace Dull Cyril McNeile “Sapper” . Copyright bjr 0*0. H. Derma Co. “TH08E DEVILS." Synopsis.—In December, 1918, four men gather In a hotel In Berne and hear one of the quartet outline a plan to paralyze Great Britain and at the same time seize world power. The other three. Hocking, Ameri can, and Stelneman and Von Grata, Germans, all millionaires, agree to the scheme, providing another man, Hiram Potts, an American, Is taken In. The Instigator of the plot gives his ‘name as Comte de Guy, but when he leaves for England with his daughter he decides to use the naiwe. Carl Peterson. Capt. Hugh (Bull-Dog) Drummond, a retired officer, advertises for' work that win give him excitement, signing "XIO.” As a result he meets Phyl lis Benton, a young woman who answered his ad. She tells him of strange murders and robberies of which she suspects a band headed by Peterson. CHAPTER I—Continued. •"Admiring my treasures 7- he re marked. ‘Pretty things, aren’t theyT I couldn’t speak a word: I Just put them back on the table. “ ‘Wonderful copies,’ he went on. *of the duke of Melbourne's lost minia tures. I think they would deceive (host people.’ •"They deceived me,’ I managed to get out. “All the time he was staring at me, a cold, merciless stare that seemed to H freeze my brain. Then he went over . to one of the safes and unlocked It •Come here. Miss Benton,’’ he, said. There are a lot more—copies.’ “1 only looked Inside for a moment hut I have never seen or thought of such a sight Beautifully arranged on black velvet shelves were ropes of pearls, a gorgeous diamond tiara, and - -a wnoie heap or loose, uncut stones. And In one corner 1 caught a glimpse of the most wonderful gold challced cup—Just like the one for which Sam |j: tiel Levy, the Jew moneylender, was ■still offering a reward. Then he shut the door and locked It and again . stared at me In silence. “‘All copies,’ he said quietly, ’won derful copies. And should you ever be tempted to think otherwise—ask your father. Miss Benton. Be warned by me: don't do anything foolish. Ask your father first’ ” “And- did you?” asked Drummond. She shuddered. “That very eve wing,” she answered. “And daddy flew Into a frightful passion, and told me never to dare to meddle In things that didn’t concern me again. Then grad fe dally, as time went on, I realized that Lakington had some hold over daddy— that he’d got my father In his power.” Her hands were clenched, and her breast rose and fell storm lly. Drummond waited for her to com pose herself "before he spoke again. “You mentioned murder, too,” he re marked. She nodded. “I’ve got no proof,” she said, “less even than over the burglaries. But there was a man j called George Drlnger, and- one eve ning, when Lakington was dining with as. I heard him discussing this man with daddy. “ ‘He’s got to go;' said Lakington. •He’s dangerous!’ "And then my father got up and dosed the door; but I heard them ar guing for half an hour. Three weeks later a coroner’s Jury found that ■George Dringer had committed suicide while temporarily insane. The same -evening daddy, for the first time in his life, went to bed the worse for drink." The girl fell silent, and Drummond f." stared at the orchestra with troubled fe, eyes. Things seemed to be rather -deeper than he had anticipated. “Then there was another case.” She was speaking again. “Do you remem ber that man who was found dead In s> railway carriage at Oxhey station. He was an Italian—Giuseppe by name; and the *iry brought In a ver dict of death from natural causes. A month before, he had an Interview with Lakington, which took place at our house: because the Italian, being a stranger, came to the wrong place, and Lakington happened to be with us at the time. The Interview finished with a fearful quarrel." She turned to : Drummond with a slight smile. “Not ■h. muoh evidence. Is there? Only. I know Laklngton murdered him. I know It. You may think I’m fanciful—imagining things; you may think I’m exaggerat ing. I don’t mind If you do—because you won’t for long.”' Drummond did not answer Immedi ately. Against his saner judgment he was beginning to be profoundly Iro . pressed, and, at the moment, he d!4 not quite know what to say. \ “What about this other man?” he asked at length. C'i : t. -■ .. V-' . ■ .... "I can tell you very little about him,” she answered. "He came to The Elms —that Is the name of I.aklngton's house—three months ago. He Is about medium height and rather thick-set; clean-shaven, with thick brown hair, flecked slightly with white. His fore head Is broad, and Ills eyes are a sort of cold grey-blue. But 'it's bis hands that terrify me. They’re large and white and utterly ruthless.” She turned to him appealingly. “Oh! don’t think I’m talking wildly.” she Im plored. “He frightens me to death— I that man: far, tor worse than Laklng ■ tern He would stop at nothing to gain his ends, and even Lakington himself knows that Ur. Peterson Is his mas ter.” "“Peterson!” -murmured Drummond. “It seems quite a sound old English name.” The girl laughed scornfully. "Oh! the name Is'sound enough. If It was his real one. As tt Is, It’s about as real as his daughter." “There Is a lady In the case, then?" “By the name of Irma," said the girl briefly. "She lies on a sofa In the > garden and yawns. She’s no more English than that waiter.” A faint smile flickered over her companion’s face; he had formed a fairly vivid mental picture of Irma. Then he grew serious again. “And what Is It that makes you think there’s mischief ahead?” he asked abruptly. Thfe girl shrugged her shoulders. “WbRt the novelists call feminine In tuition. 1 .suppose,” she answered. “That—and my father.” She said the last words very low. “He hardly ever sleeps at night now: I hear lilm pacing up and down his room—hour after hour, hour after hour. Ohl.lt makes me mad. . . . Don’t you understand? I’ve got to get him away from those devils, before he breaks down com pletely.” Drummond nodded, and looked away. While she had been speaking he had made up his mind what course to take, and now, having outsat every body else, he decided that it was time for the Interview to cease. Already an early diner was having a cocktail, while Laklngton might return at any moment. And If there was anything in what she bad told him,' It struck him that It would be as well for that gentleman not to find them together. “I think,” he said, “we’d better ga My address Is 60A Half Moon street; my telephone 1234 Mayfair. If any thing happens, If ever you want me— at any hour of the day or night—ring me up or write. If I’m not In, leave a message with my servant Denny. He Is absolutely reliable. The only other thing Is your own .address.” "The Larches, ■ near Godaiming,” an swered the girl, as they moved toward the door. “Oh I If you only knew the glorious relief of feeling one’s got some ■ one to turn to . . .” She looked at him with shining eyes, and Drummond felt hls pulse quicken sud denly. “May 1 drop you anywhere?” he asked, as they stood on the pavement, but she shook her head. “No, thank you. I'll go In that taxi.” She gave the man an address, and stepped In, while Hugh stood ' bare headed by the door. / , “Don’t forget,” he said earnestly. “Any time of the day or night. And while I think of It—we’re old friends. Can that be done? In case I come and stay, you see." She thought for a moment and then nodded her head. “All right,” she an swered. “We’ve met a lot In London during the war.” . With a grinding of gear wheels the taxi drove off, leaving Hugh with a vivid picture Imprinted on hls mind of blue eycu, and white teeth, and a skin like the bloom of a sun-kissed peach. For a moment or two he stood star ing after It, and then he walked across to hls own car. With hls mind still full of the Interview he drove slowly along Piccadilly, while every now and then he smiled grimly to himself. Was the whole thing an elaborate hoax? Somehow deep down In hls mind, he wondered whether It was a joke— whether, by some freak of fate, he had stumbled on one of those strange, mys teries which up to date he had re garded as existing only In the realms of dime novels. He turned Into his rooms, and stooi? In front' of the mantelpiece taking off his gloves. It was as he was about to lay them down on the table that an envelope caught his eye, ad dressed to him In an unknown hand writing. Mechanically he picked It up and opened It Inside was a single j IN’1*-sheet of notepaper, on which a I few lines bad been written in a small, neat hand. “There are more things In heaven and earth, young man. than a capabil ity for eating steak and onions, and a desire for adventure. 1 imagine that you possess both: and they are useful assets in the second locality mentioned by the poet. In heaven, however, one never knows—especially with regard to the onions. Be careful.” Drummond stood motionless for a moment, with narrowed eyes. Then he leaned forward and pressed the bell. “Who brought this note, James?" be said quietly, as his servant came into the room. “A small boyi sir. Said I was to be sure and see you got It most particu lar,” He unlocked a cupboard near the window and produced a tantalus. “Whisky, sir, or cocktail?" “Whisky, I think, James." Hugh carefully folded the sheet of paper and placed it in his pocket. And his face as he took the drink from his man would have left no doubt In an onlook er’s mind as to why, Jn the past, he had earned the name of “Bull-Dog” Drummond. ' CHAPTER II. In Which He Journeys to Godaiming and the Game Begin*. ONE. “I almost think, James, that I could toy with another kidney." Drnmmond looked across the table at his servant, who was carefully arranging two or three dozen letters in groups. “I've got a Journey in front of me today, and I require a large breakfast.” James Denny supplied the defi ciency from a dish that was standing on an electric heater. "Are you going for long, sir?? "1 don't know, James. It alt de pends on circumstances. Which, when you come to think of it,, is undoubtedly one of the most fatuous phrases in the English language. Is there anything in the world that doesn't depend on circumstances?” ' “Will you be motoring, sir, or going by train?” asked James prosaically. Dialectical arguments did not appeal to him. “By car,” answered Drummond. "Pajamas and a tooth-brush.” “You won’t take evening clothes, sir?” "No.' I want my visit to appear un premeditated James, and if one goes' about completely encased in boiled shirts, while pretending to be merely out for the afternoon, people have doubts as to one’s intellect.” James digested this great thought in silence. “Will you be going far,, sir?” he asked at length, pouring out a second cup of coffee. “To Godaiming. A charming spot, I believe, though I’ve never been there. Charming inhabitants, too, James. The lady I met yesterday at the Carlton lives at Godaiming." “Indeed, sir,” murmured James non committally. \ “You d—d old humbug," laughed Drummond, “you know you're Itching to know all about It. I had a very long and interesting talk with her, and one of two tilings emerges quite clear ly from our conversation. Either, James, I am a congenital idiot, and don’t know enough to come In out of the rain; or we’ve hit the goods. That Is what I propose to find out by my little excursion. Either our legs, my friend, are being pulled till they will never resume their normal shape; or that advertisement has succeeded be yond our wildest dreams." “There are a lot more answers In this morning, sir.” Denny made a movement toward the letters he had been sorting. “One from a lovely widow with two children." “Lovely,” cried Drummond. “How forward of her!” He glanced at the letter and smiled. “Care, James, and accuracy are essential In a secretary. The misguided woman calls herself ioneiy, not lovely. She will remain so, as far as 1 am concerned, until the other matter Is settled.” “Will It take long, sir, do you think?” "To get tt settled V Drummond Ut a cigarette and leaned back In bis chair. “Listen, James, and I will out line the case. The maiden lives at a house called The Larches, near God atmlng, with her papa. Not far away Is another house called The Elms, owned by a gentleman of the name of Henry Lakington—a nasty man, James, with a nasty face—who was also at the Carlton yesterday after noon for a short time. And now we come to the point. Miss Kenton— that Is the lady’s name—accuses Ilf. I.a king ton of being tlie complete IT In the criminal line. . She went even so far as to say that he was the sec ond* most dangerous man.-In England.” “Indeed, sir. More fcoftee, alrf" “Will uothihg move you. James?” remarked his master plaintively. “This man murders people and does things like that, you know.” “Personally, sir, ,1 prefer a picture palace. But I suppose there ain’t no accounting for 'obbies. May I clear away, slrT* “No, James, not at present Keep quite still while I go on, or I shall get It wrong. Three months ago there arrived at The Elms, the most dan gerous man In England—the IT of ITS. Tills gentleman goes by tbe name of Peterson, nnd he owns a daughter. From what Miss Benton said, I have doubts about that daugh ter, James.” He rose aud strolled over to the window. “Grave doubts. How ever,. to return to tbe point. It ap pears that some unpleasing conspiracy Is being launched by IT, the IT of ITS, and the doubtfn! daughter, into which Papa Benton has beqn unwill ingly drawn. As far as I can make out,’ the suggestion Is that I should unravel the tangled akeln of crime and extricate papa.” In a spasm of uncontrollable ex citement James sucked his teeth. “Lumme, It wouldn’t ’nlf go on- the movies, would It?” he remarked. "Bet ter than them I}ed Indians and things.” “I fear, James, tbat you'are not In tbe habit of spending your spare time at tbe British museum, as I hoped,” said Drummond. “And your brain doesn't work very quickly. The point is not whether this hideous af fair is better than lted Indians and things—but whether It's genuine. Am I to battle with murderers, or shall I And a house party roaring with laughter on the lawn?*’ “As long as you laughs like 'ell yourself, sir, I don’t see as 'ow it makes much odds,” answered James. “The first sensible remark you've made this morning,” said his master hopefully. “I will go prepared to laugh.” He picked up a pipe from tbe man telpiece, and proceeded to fill it. while James Denny waited in silence. “A Ja'dy may ring up today,” Drum mond continued. “Miss Benton, to be exact. Don’t say where I’ve gone, if she does; but take down any mes sage, and write it to me at Godal tnlng post office. If by any chance you don’t hear from me for three days, get in touch with Scotland Yard, and tell ’em where I’ve gone. That cov ers everything if It’s genuine. If. on the other hand. It’s a hens, and the house-party is a good one, I shall probably want you to come down with my evening clothes and some more kit.” “Very good, sir. I will clean your small Colt revolver at once." Hugh Drummond paused in the act of lighting his pipe, and a grin spread slowly over his face. “Excellent” he said. “And see if you can find that water-squirt pistol I used to have— Son of a Gun, they called it That ought to raise a laugh, when I arrest the murderer with it" TWO. The SO h.p, two-seater made short work of the run to Godaiming. As Drummond thought of the two guns rolled up carefully in his pajamas— the harmless toy and the wicked little automatic—he grinned gently to him self. The girl had not rung him up during the morning, and after a com fortable lunch at r his club, he had started about three o'clock. The ! hedges, fresh with the. glory of spring, flashed past; the smell of the country came sweet and fragrant on the air. There was a gentle warmth, a balra Iness In the day that made it good to be alive, and once or twice be saug under his breath through sheer light heartedness of spirit. Surrounded by the peaceful beauty of the fields, with nn occasional village half hidden by great trees from under which the tiny houses peeped out, it seemed Impos sible that crime could exist—laugh able. Of course the thing was a hoax, an elaborate leg-pull, but being not guilty of any mental subterfuge. Hugh Drummond admitted to himself quite truly that he didn’t care a d—n if it was. Phyllis Benton was at liberty to continue the Jest, wherever and whenever1 she liked. Phyllis Benton was a very nice girl, and very nice girls are permitted a lot of latitude. A persistent honking behind aroused him from his reverie, and he pulled into the side of the road. An open cream-colored Rolls-Royce drew level, with five people on board, and he looked up as It passed. There were three people In the back—two men and a woman, and for a moment his eyes met those of the man near est him. Then they drew ahead, and Drummond pulled up to avoid the thick cloud of dust With a slight frown he stared at the retreating car; he saw the man lean over and- speak to the other man; he saw the other man look around Then a bend In the road hid them from sight, and still frowning, i Drummond pulled out bis case and lit n cigarette.- For tlie man whose (fyFTi’e Bad tttligiit as the'KolW wfent”* by was Henry Lakington. There was no mlstabin* tliat hacd-1ijjpetl^.'drnel face. . - ■-* »*• ' Presumably, thought Hugh, ‘ the other two occupant swere Mr. Peter son and the doubtful daughter. Inna; Presumably they were returning to The Elms. And Incidentally there seemed no pronounced reason why they shouldn’t. But, somehow, the sudden ^ appearance of Lakington had upset him; he felt Irritable and annoyed. What little he bad seen of the man he bad not liked; be did not want to be reminded of blm, especially just as he was thinking of Phyllis. He watched the white dust-cloud rise over the bill In front as the car . topped It; be watched it settle and drift away In the faint breeze. Then be let ih his clntcb and followed quite slowly in the big car's wake. There had been two men In front— > the, driver and another, and be won dered Idly If the latter was Mr. Ben ton. He accelerated up the hill and swung over the top; the next mo ment he braked bard and pulled up , Just In time. The Rolls, with the chauffeur peering into the bonnet, had stopped In such a position that it was Impossible for him to get by. The girl was still seated In the back of the car, also the passenger In front, but the two other men were standing In the road apparently watch ing the chauffeur, and after a while the one whom Drummond had recog nized as Lakington came toward him. *Tm sorry,” he began—and then paused in surprise. “Why, surely It’s • Captain Drummond I” Drummond nodded pleasantly. "The occupant of a car Is hardly like ly to change in a mile. Is he?" he re marked. “I’m afraid 1 forgot to wave aS you went past, but 1 got your smile all right. Are you likely to be long, because if so. I’ll stop my engine?" The other man was now approach ing casually, and Drummond regarded him casually. “A friend of our little Phyllis, Peterson,” said Laklngton. as he came up. - “Any friend of Miss Benton’s la, I hope, ours.” said Peterson with a, smile. “You’ve known her a long' time. 1 expect?" T ’ . “Quite a long time," returned Hugh. “We have Jazzed together on many occasions.” * “Which makes it all the more un fortunate that we should have de layed you,” said Peterson. “I can’t help thinking, Laklngton. that that new chauffeur Is a bit of a fool.” “I hope he avoided the crash all right." murmured Drummond politely. Both men looked at him. “The crash!” said Laklngton. “There was no question of a crash. We Just stopped.” "Really." remarked Drummond. “I think, sir. that you must be right In your diagnosis of your chauffeur's mentality.” ,He turned courteously to Peterson. “When something goes wrong, for a fellah to stop his car, by braking so hard that he locks both back wheels. Is no" bon. as we used to say In France. I thought. Judging by the tracks In the dust, that you must .have been In Imminent danger of ramming a traction engine. I won der If 1 could help your man,” he continued. “I’m a bit of an expert with a Rolls.” “How very kind of you," said Peter son. “I’ll go and see.” He went over to the man and spoke a few words. “Isn't It extraordinary," remarked Hugh, “how the eye of the boss gal vanizes the average man Into activ ity. As long, probably, as Mr. Peter son had remained here talking, that chauffeur would have gone on tinker ing with the engine. And now—look. In a second—all serene. And yet I dare say Mr. Peterson knows nothing about It really. Just the watching eye, Mr. Laklngton. Wonderful thing —the human optic.” He rambled on with a genial smile, watching with apparent Interest the car In front. “Who's the quaint bird sitting beside the chnuffeur? He ap peals to me Immensely. Wish to heaven I'd had a few more like him in France to turn Into snipers.” “May I ask why you think he would have been a success at the Job?" Lak Ington’s voice expressed merely per functory interest, but his cold, steely eyes were fixed on Drummond.. Drummond gets busy and forces tbo fighting. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Ancients Knew of Compressed Air. The principle of compressed air was known to the ancients, having been experimented with by Hero, who lived from -84 to 321 B, C. The compressed air pump was invented by Otto von Guericke of Magdeburg, in 1654. Light Literature. The Angler—I’ve bought a fly book tor each of us. The Novice—Do you suppose we’ll have time to read it?—Boston Tran script " Ignorance Isn’t bliss if you don’t know a good thing when you see it