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Bfinple sonprs often Ifi SS *1 fi'J MBku great li!t.« Kslnljilslieil r;r, years. Si/ Wt V! *.# CJjoOM MUSIC CO., St>t'»-.«y IUII, < liitnjtn H si> KlllcXil«tof Denerlptlons U . 10!» Ann Are., Oilnca. IN THE SHADOW OF SHAME By Fitzgerald Molloy Copyright by E. Fitzgerald Molloy. Synopsis of Preceding Chapters Olive Pu in barton, aftei lit cgal neparatlon from Iter brutal husband, tmcccHsfnl autlion*H« HIID 11 V«-H tjuk'tly \*itl» her daughter, Veronica, In llextoii ltoad, >t. John's Wood London. Her hus band secretly return* to London and by letter make* further demand* for money. Her coußln Valentin (lulbralih, a man of iudejiendeut wealth who has been in love with her finee early Youth, call* to flay I'm rewell before startlufron a trip to Kirypt. A fort" night later Olive Dumbarton in found in her library holding a dagger over the dead body of her husband. JSlie in urrc ated aim held for trial, and detect ives are nut on the cane (ieorge li«»*toek. the publisher, and Valerius <;alt>ralth take an active Interest In «he In vestlgJitlouß. and the former Is shadowed by Inspector Mackworth Angela Mtzra., an Italian woman, H\vmrs t<» Mr*. Dumbarton and Inspector Mackworth tlist the murder was committed by her husband. After fallow ing many clue* however, the Inspector flnds that Mezzti died in u hospital several hour." > < t«»re the mur der of Dumbarton. George ilostork is *-nn over bv a home and upon Indng assured that b. win shortly die, swear* before wituesses that he In the murdeit). CHAPTER XXIII. Quinton Quave slept little that night, and when he did iiis mina was still oc cupied by bis meeting with Valerius un der various and extraordinary circum stances, to all of which were . ttached an impenetrable and distressing mysferv, the clew to which the dreamer ws forced to seek through a surprising maze of difficulties without ever bring able to discover. Quinton was puzzled, disturbed and anxious. What if Valerius had not been i in Paris on the night of Dumbarton's death? The conclusions to which this idea led were traii 'bt with terrible con sequences. In striving to control his imagination by the exercise of his rea son, hi.s mind became more perplexed, and he could sleep no more, lie there fore rose early without feeling rested or refreshed, and on coming down to the breakfast room found his father and mother each with a morninp paper, in which was forth i" sensational fashion the confession 112 u or<*e Bos tock, furnished with fuller detnils than had been given in the jcurtia!* of the previous evening. "Let tis see, mother," Quinton said, getting behind her chair and leaning over her shoulder that lie might read for himself the statements made. Presently Mrs Quave, having finished with the paper, handed it t" her son, saying: "How much we ma" be deceived in people. I could never have believed Mr. Bostcck guilty if he had not con fessed." "Nor I," replied Quinton emphatically. "Poor dear Mrs. Dumbarton should feel intense relief," said Mrs. Quave. "That's the strangest part," answer ed her husband. "She is more dis tressed than ever." "Why?'' asked Quinton, who not hav- j ing seen his father since the previous afternoon, knew nothin" nt Olive Dum barton's opinions. '"Because she believes Bostock made this confession to save her." "Yes. On Bostock's confession be- ; ing made known to her yesterday eve-! ning she refused to believe in his guilt, and received such a shock that she faint- I ed, when 1 was sent for; she was al most as bad as on the night her husband was killed." "There must be something in all this," said Quinton, thoughtfully. "In all what?" asked his mother, | sharply. I"In her refusal to believe Bostock I guilty; in her opinion that he sacrificed himself to save her." Dr. Quave took ln's morning paper once more and began to read, while his son, with one elbow on the table, bis head resting on one hand, became ab sorbed in thought. The question he had been unable to settle satisfactorily now faced him once more. Had he really made a mistake in identifying Valerius with the man he had observed on the night of the tragedy, or was his first impression, on seeing the figure the previous evening corect? The consideration was startling, but there was 110 setting it aside once it had taken possession of his thoughts; nor was there any longer a possibility of routing from his mind a doubt as to whether Valerius was in Paris on the night of the tragic event. The young man found himself perplexed by the situation which faced him. A mystery of the gravest importance might be solved by his admission of what had happened the previous evening, yet his action might be the cause of bringing disgrace and perhaps death to a rela tive of one whom lie deeply loved. Should he keep silent and allow the problem to work itself out unaided by him, or had he better speak and free the innocent if such were in his power? On this point he resolved to take the advice of nis father, and as the latter rose from the table Quinton said in a serious tone; "I want to speak to you." "What is it?" the doctor inquired, seating himself once more. "Something that I want to consult you about that bothers me." "I hope that you haven't got into a scrape, my lad?" "No, father. It's about Mrs. Dum barton's case," "Something new ?" the doctor said, his interest suddenly aroused. Quinton, in a few words, told him of the meeting of the previous night and of the doubts and suppositions which had since beset him. "This is serious, very serious, for your identification of Galbraith would place him in an uncommonly suspic ious light," said the doctor. "That is, supposing he was not in Paris on the night of Dumbarton's death. But that's a question which must no longer be left in doubt." "Who is to prove whether he was or not? Mackworth, of course, you must see him at once." "But if it turns out thnt Galbraith is guilty?" said Quinton with hesitation. "Well?" "Don't you see, father?" replied . the young man anxiously. "What?" asked the doctor impatient ly. "What is there to see?" "It is through me he will be found out—lie who is Veronica's cousin." "But you will prove her mother's in \ nocence?" "That is now practically established." ' "But at the cost of a man who may 1 be innocent. You must not hesitate, my lad, to do your duty." "I wish it were some one else's duty than mine," slid Quinton. "That it's your, i - clear enough. Recollect, if Galbraith is innocent your words can do him no harm, and if lie is guilty—well, he deserves to be hanged for it—" "That's what I dread." "For lie has not only taken Dum barton's life, hut has allowed an inno cent woman to lie under the charge, and accepted the greatest sacrifice a man could make from Rostock. See Mack worth without further delay; tell him what you told me, and let lnm net as he thinks best. That's what you must do, my boy." Quinton saw that he must set a*ide his own feelings and fears and act in the manner his father suggested. Therefore, half an hour later, while the October sun was struggling to overcome a fog that suddenly had gathered above the great city, lie approached the in spector's house, dispirited at the pros pect of the interview he sought, lie found Mackworth in his little sitting room, the sombreuess of which was re lieved by a fire, in front of which Shawn food noisily barking. | '.'Sit down -ir." the inspector said. "You have something of importance to t .11 me fir I am much mistaken." "Ye>," replied Quinton, gravely, "Something which has ju t happened." "Then, sir." Mackworth remarked, "let itie hear it without delay." CHAPTER XXIV. Throughout the night succeeding his interview with Quinton Quave in the Hoxton Road. Valerius was much dis turbed his thoughts were ever dwell ing \\ ith regret on the scene which had passed between him and his cousin. And though hi- wrath wib still stirred I>v her obstinate refusal to credit. < ieorge Hostock's guilt, yet he remained acutely conscious of the cruelty and in justice with which he had behaved to her. lie therefore resolved to call in the morning upon Olive that he might ask her to forget his bitter words, that he might implore her to pardon him; that he might prove to her the error she had made in believing Bostock's in nocence in spite of his deathbed desposi tions. ••The terrible eonsciouftneftM tliat lie *va§ goint; to liis death—that nothing could nave lilm." Therefore, soon after the breakfast, which he had scarcely touched, he set out for the Hoxton Road, his cab passing that containing Quinton Quave on his way to visit Mackworth; Valerius, all unconscious of the younger man's mis sion, or of the consequences to which it was destined to lead. On arriving at his cousin's house Val erius pushed open the gate and entered the garden. Disposed as he was toward depres sion that day, the bleak exterior of the house filled him with a melancholy deep er than he had felt before, and to rid himself o? this impression he sought to enter quickly and fiercely pulled the bell. Its sounds, loud violent at first and gradually subsiding, sounded as distinctly to his ears as if the place were deserted. After a long pause he was about to ring a second time when the door was opened and a servant stood be fore him. In answer to his question he was told that his cousin was unable to see any one. * "Is Mrs. Dumbarton ill?" he inquired, anxiously. "Yes, sir. Dr. Quave was sent for yesterday evening, and he says she must not leave her room for some days or be disturbed." He was in no humor to visit his club and meet his fellow men, his mind being all unhinged and having nothing in com mon with the idle interests that amused them, and yet he shrank from splitude, where he felt himself the unprotected prey of thoughts that gnawed his heart and bereft him of peace. He therefore walked for hours .along roads and avenues, through squares and streets, always in the centre of crowds that dis - tracted and bore him company without personally intruding on him. Leaving Pall Mall, he hurried throuch St. James Park on his way to Knights bridge, and had got as far as Hyde PICTORIAL MAGAZINE AND COMIC SECTION Your Photographs in Natural Colors ) your own PHOTO-COLORING and TIN I tN< i. Delightful,charming re sults. Natural and Life-like. Perfect, color ing for Lantern Slides, Burnt Wood and Maps. Outfit with Instructions by mail, ?0 cents. Stamps accepted, 112. I RRtSHAM, 3200 ARCH St., PHILADELPHIA, PA. Park Corner when the shrill cry of a newsboy made him suddenly pause; he had caught the name of George Bostock and immediately concluded the miblish er's death was being announced. But while Valeria, stood with ears straiaed to catch the words which were being shouted a friend joined him. "This," said the latter, a military man with a fresh face and gray hair, "loirs is strange news about Bostock." "I lis death?" gasped Valerius. "I lis death—why, there would be nothing unexpected in that." "What then?" Galbraith asked. "His probable recovery." "Impossible!" exclaimed Galbraith. "It scorns there's nothing impossible to science nowadays—read for yourself," answered the military man, handing an evening paper he had just bought to Valerius. ' CHAPTER XXXII. Next day before rising, Valerius had the morning papers brought him, and hurriedly opened them one after an other, read in all the same account of • leorge Bostock's progress towards re covery. I lie comments which were ap pended he left unheeded, only the actual state of the patient interested hint, and this failed to disturb the calm which had si t in upon bun as a result of the long hours of mental combat he had endured the previous night. The early afternoon was spent in reading old letters long stored away for something they contained in them selves, and which he now burnt. And r.s his eyes dwelt on them it seemed a if old friends came back, old days returned. Various chapters in his life opened out before him as a book; some almost forgotten, others remembered well, but seen now in a new light— a lin'it which had come too late. And as the flames consumed each separate sheet it was as though a year of his existence had escaped his grasp, had changed to ashes and turned tc nothingness, until but a memory re mained of the past which had seemed so eventful, freighted as it had been with a thousand incidents of the in ward rather than the outward life. This task was in itself a wrenching of the from the present; a farewell to what had been and might be never more; a burying of the dead. And the pain wliicli it brought lay deep in his heart, but was accepted by him as part of that which he had set himself to ac complish. As lie lay back in his chair before his desk, the despair that blinds hope, fet ters joy and crushes vitality came upon him; but striving to rise above these -feelings, lie set himself to his task. He had already destroyed such traces and mementoes of his past life as he deemed too sacred for other eyes to look upon when he had gone. And next he made a will leaving pensions to his servants, dividing his valuables among a few friends, and bequeathing all else he possessed to Olive Dumbarton. It was hard that while in the enjoy ment of vigor and vitality he should make preparations for what was to happen a few hours later, when men would count him among the dead. He was intelligent enough to know life could not end here, and the dread of what might come was full upon him. Yet he did not flinch from his purpose. With overwhelming sadness he be gan a letter to his cousin, whom he might never see again, and whom he addressed now for the last time. And while he wrote the pain and despair within him grew until tears blinded his eyes and fell upon the page. More than once he laid down the pen as if unable to continue, and then again began, eager to finish his task, yet reluctant to say the final word farewell to her he loved. And this was what he wrote: "My Dear Olive—l begin by implor ing you to forgive me for the cruel wrong I have done you, which now, at this late hour, I am going to repair. When a few days ago you said George Rostock had not committed murder, your woman's instinct was right; your faith in him was justified, for it was I MM. Winftloiv'FT Southing Syrup reduces inllammatlou while Children are Teething. 25c. A bottle who killed your husband. "When on the night 1 dined with you before leaving England, you told me of iiis return, I was tilled with uneasiness, not knowing what steps such a scoun drel might take to prosecute and de fraud you. I ought to have remained by you, I your only male relative, but my desire* for pleasure was too strong for my sense of duty, and 1 went. While in Paris my anxiety increased, but even then I debated with myself as to whether 1 should return or continue my journey. 1 decided on the latter, and then wrote and posted to you the letter and book which reached you that unhappy night. No sooner, however, than I had done so, then the heartless ness of my conduct in leaving you un protected became plain, and I deter mined to return and see for myself what course he had taken. As my stay might be brief, I left my baggage be hind and did not return to my house, then in charge of a caretaker. I"On arriving at Charing Cross, I 'stayed at the Eagle Hotel, and after a | late dinner set out for 1 loxton Road with the intention of surprising you. Reaching there I caught sight of a man walking stealthily up and down in front of your house. My first impulse was to accost, my second to watch him, for which purpose T withdrew to the oppo site side of the road. He disappeared, but finally returned, when I saw him open the gate. By this time T had rec ognized him as Dumbarton, and going over. I caught hold of his shoulder and thing him aside. Bitter words followed; he struck tile and I clutched him by the throat. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my left shoulder, when, in a moment of passion I snatched the knife with which I was stabbed from his hand, and struck him with it in the breast. "Startled by what I had done and by the fear of its consequences, I rushed him from the spot, until hearing a servant's cries and seeing a police man 1 paused, and summoning all my presence of mind, coolly directed him to the spot. T did not know what had happened, nor did I dare return. In the morning 1 learned all, when my for your situation and remorse for my act prompted me to confess, but my cowardice overcoming this impulse, J nersuadod myself that you could not fail to prove your innocence, and that 1 need not suffer for my deed I therefore re turned to Paris. None knew I had been in England. I had not given my name at the hotel, and 1 assured myself I should never be suspected. "On reaching Paris T immediately started for Brindisi, whence I'tele graphed to you. The dastardly part I played in permitting you to bear the blame, followed; but again and again I told myself your innocense could and must be proved without my confession. And t'li-ii I hoped that now being free you might give me the love it had been ii:y lifelong desire to obtain. So when the woman Mezza appeared T felt con vinced the blame might be shifted on her husband, who I supposed had re turned to his own country, where he would probably never be found. And this hope proving false, Bostock's con fession assured me you need not suffer nor I confess. "Imagine then my despair on finding you would not believe him guilty; that you would have his confession proved, and that you loved him. I hated him for the noble example he had set me, and because he had succeeded where I had failed in winning your love. All this drove me mad, and I said such words to you as I would now give all the world to have left unsaid. Then came the news of the second operation and his recovery, when I resolved to set you and him free from all imputation of guilt by my confession, and then to evade the disgrace and punishment I have not the courage to face. "I krtow my life has been a waste, and I feel it might have been other wise, but I loved pleasure too much and tasted happiness too little, for the happiness I sought in my path I was never able to gain. I see now the fault was wholly mine, for had my love for you been great, and strong, and noble, it would not have failed to win your own. I have brought trouble sor row and disgrace upon you, and little as I deserve your forgiveness I hope you will not refuse it, made, as it is, in this my last hour. "Be merciful and pardon me, is the last request of one who, though he has deeply wronged you, loves you with a deeper and better love than he has ever felt before. I die in the belief you will not withhold it from me. Farewell, dear Olive, farewell. God bless you now and forever." lle read through the letter, which he carefully sealed, and then, that it might reach her without fail next morning, he went out and dropped it into a neigh boring letter box. Everything was done now save the most important of all, but from this he did not flinch; all preparation had been made. From a drawer in his desk he took a bottle of chloroform, and held it between him and the light. There was more than sufficient there to send him into a sleep from which in this life there could be no awakening. He thougth it strange he should feel so calm and collected now, in contrast to the disturbance he had suffered before finally resolving to seek death. The strong odor of the drug nearly intoxicated him as he raised it to his lips and then set it down once more, lest be had left undone anything which he might remember and wished to do when it became too late. No, nothing had been forgotten and with regret he recognized that there was nothing to delay his last moments. He took the bottle again, lifted it slowly, and then with a sudden effort boldly swallowed its contents. His life had now practi cally come to an end: the drug must soon begin to paralyze his brain. And now came the terrible con sciousness that he was going to his death, that nothing could save him, that he could retain his fading senses no longer. Then he became absorbed into dark ness, silent, yet surging as if with hid den life—a suffocating .and appalling darkness through which he sank down, and down, to death. (To be continued.) ACENTS--BRAND NEW Article—Patented August 7, >W6. (inward 811d1nir FuTnfttire fchoo. Also SO other meritorious ladled specialties. (Julck *»!«'«, bf« profits. We rmv you to necun' new a—men or women, r AIR MFG. CO., 6012 l-'ulr Dldg., itacine, WU. Our South American Double. We Americans think we have the greatest country on earth. Not one in a hundred of us knows that we have a neiglibor that is pretty nearly our twin so far as size, -esources and name go. We are not Ihc only United States in the world. 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Chronic bronchitis, Catarrh of the Lung*. Catarrh of the Bron chlal Tube* and othor Lung '1 roubles. Kot one case but hundred*. Many aufferera who had lost all hope of recovery and who had been Riven up to die by skilled physicians have beeu permanently cured by Lung Oermlne. It la not only a cure for Consumption but a positive preventative. If your tunic* are merely weak and the dlaeaae Maw not yet manlfcHted Itself, you can prevent Ita development, you can bull 1 up your lunga and sys tem to their normal strength nnd capacity. Lung-fiermine has cured advanced Conaumptlon, In many capca over three years ugo, and the patients re main as strong and well today us the day they wero cured. Here Is Evidence From One Case Under date of April 20, ivo«, William Schmidt, 1004 Coleman Bt., St. Louis, Mo., write® : "It fa now nearly three years since my cure of Con sumption was made complete by your Lung wrmlne, and I am happy to say that I remain as well and strong today as the day 1 was cured. 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The two states of Rio de Janeiro and Sac Paulo may be described as one vast coffee estate. Coffee forms half, in value, oi the total exports of Brazil. It is three times the value of our tobacco exports and five-sixths that of our iron and steel. It surpasses the entire tea output of China, India and Ceylon. Rio is destined to be supplanted as the capital of the country. The Brazilian congress has chosen a beautiful plateau in the central State of Goyaz as a site for the new capital, which in time wHI be connected by rail with all the states, some of which at present are almost in accessible. "What happens when Greek meets Greek?" asked the teacher. "Dey ax each udder how's de pcamut biz," answered an observant youth. 3