CHAPTER XIV-——Continued. et] foe Stanton was still wrestling with his problem when the “handsome couple” returned from the play. The trust field captain saw them as they crossed the lobby to the elevator and again marked the little evidences of familiar- ity. “That settles it,” he mused, with an outthrust of the pugnaclous jaw. “She knows more about Smith than anybody else in this neck of woods— and she's got it to tell!” Stanton began his inquisition for bet- ter information the following day, with the bejewelled lady for his ally. Miss Richlander was alone and unfriended in the hotel—and also a little bored. Hence she was easy of approach; so easy that by luncheon time the sham her husband. Stanton lost no moment investigative. For the inquiring pur- pose, Smith was made to figure as a business acquaintance, and was generous in his pralses of the young man's astounding financial abil- ity. lander!” he confided over the luncheon table. “Coming here a few weeks ago, absolutely unknown, he has already be- come a prominent man of affairs in Brewster. And so discreetly reticent! To this good day nobody knows where he comes from, or anything about him.” “No? said Miss Verda. gular!” But she did not volunteer to supply any of the missing biographical facts, “Absolutely nothing,” Stanton went on smoothly. “And, of course, his si- lence about himself has been grossly misinterpreted. I have even heard it said that he is an escaped convict.” “How perfectly absurd!” was emiling comment. “Isn't It? will talk. his name isn't Smith; that he has merely taken the commonest name in the category as an alias.” “I can contradict that, anyway,” Miss Richlander offered. “His name is really and truly John Smith.” “You have known him a long time, haven't the headlight diamonds. “Oh, yes; for quite a long time, In- deed.” “That was back in New York state?” Stanton slipped in. “In the East, yes. He comes of an excellent family. His father's people were well-to-do farmers, and one of his great-uncles on his mother’s side was on the supreme bench in our state; he was chief justice during the later years of his life.” “What state did you say?" queried Stanton craftily. But Miss Verda was far too wide-awake to let him surprise her, “Our home state, of course. believe any member of Mr, immediate family on either side ever moved out of it.” Stanton gave it up for the time be- the you?" I don’t Smith's has Smith might have business reasons for secrecy—he might have backers who wished to remain completely unknown in their fight against the big land trust; but if he had no backers the “whe Is an Escaped Convict.” ly--he was something away, It was not until after office hours that Stanton was able to reduce his «quation to its simplest terms, and it in hiding ; from which he had run J ort after his first day's work as clerk t nd stenographer In the High Line 1 eadquarters, who cleared the alr of at least one fog bank of doubts, “I've been through the records and the stock-books,” said the spy, when, in obedience to orders, he had locked the office door. “Smith is playing a fone hand. his first chunk of money, and after that ft was easy, Every dollar invested In High Line has been dug up right here in the Timanyonl. Here's the list of stockholders.” Stanton ran his eye down the string of names and swore when he saw Max- well's subscription of $25,000, “Damn it!” he rasped; “and he's Fairbairn's own son-in-law I" “So Is Starbuck, for that matter; and he's In for twenty thousand,” sald | Shaw, “And, by the way, Dill is a man who will bear watching. He's hand-in-glove with Smith, and he's onto all of our little crooks and turns. 1 heard him telling Smith today that he owed it to the company to carry a gun.” Stanton’s smile showed his teeth, “I wish he would; earry one and kill somebody with it. Then we'd know what to do with him.” The spy was rolling a cigarette and his half-closed eyes had a murderous glint in them. | “Me, for Instance?” he inquired cyn- | leally. “Anybody,” | He sald Stanton absently. was going over the list of stock- i what Shaw had sald, “That brings us down to business, { Mr. Stanton,” sald the ex-rallroad clerk { out of this to cover the risk—my risk.” The man at the desk looked up | quickly. “What's that you say? Shaw, I've spoken once, and I'll do it just this one time more: you sing small if you want to keep out of jail!” Shaw had lighted his cigarette and | was edging toward the door, coolly, “If you've got me, I've you. I ean find two men who will go i into court and swear that you pald Pete Simms money to have Smith sand- | bagged, that day out at Simms’ place fat the dam! I may have to go to jail, that you'll beat me to it And with that he snapped the eatch on the locked { door and went away. Some three hours after this rather hostile clash with the least trustwor- thy but by far the most able of his henchmen, Crawford Stanton left his | wife chatting comfortably with Miss Richlander in the hotel parlors and went reluctantly to keep an appoint. | ment which he had been dreading ever since the early afternoon hour when a wire had come from Copah directing him to meet the “Nevada Flyer” upon its arrival at Brewster. The public { knew the name signed to the telegram ns that of a millionaire statesman : but Stanton knew it best as the name of a hard and not overserupulous master, tion when Stanton descended from his cab and hurried down the long plat form. A white-Jacketed porter waiting to admit him to the presence when the train came to a stand, and as he climbed Into the vestibule of the luxurious private ear, Stanton got what comfort he could out of the thought that the Interview would necessarily be limited by the ten minutes’ engine- changing stop of the fast train. Stanton, flying leap from the moving train. | the eab rank he found the motor cab which he had hired for the drive down { from the hotel, Climbing in, he gave a brittle order to the chauffeur, Simul taneously a man wearing the softest | of hats lounged away from his post of { observation was pony. Once in the saddle, however, { horse, Having overheard Stanton's order giving, there was no need to keep the motor cab in sight as it sputtered through the streets and out upon the | backgrounding * mesa, its ill-smelling | course ending at a lonely roadhouse in the mesa hills on the Topaz trail, When the hired vehicle came to a stand in front of the lighted barroom of the roadhoyse, Stanton gave a wait- {ing order to the driver and went in. | Of the dog-faced barkeeper he asked an abrupt question, and at the man’s private room at the back. The private room had but one occu- pant--the man Lanterby, who was sit- ting behind a round card table and vainly endeavoring to make one of the pair of empty whisky ; lnsses gpin In a complete circuit about a black bottle standing on the table. - * * * The hired car was still waiting when Stanton went out through the barroom and gave the driver his return orders. | And, because the night was dark, nel ther of the two at the car saw the man in the soft hat straighten himself up {from his crouching place under the backroom window and vanish silently in the gloom, * * + CHAPTER XV, A Night of Fiascos. Smith had seen nothing of Miss Richlander during the day, partly be- cnnse there was a forenoon meeting of {the High Line stockholders called for the purpose of electing him secretary and treasurer in fact of the company, and partly because the major portion of the afternoon was spent in confer. ence with Williams at the dam. Returning from the dam site quite late in the evening, Smith spent a hard: working hour or more at his desk In the Kinzie bullding offices; and it was here that Starbuck found him, “What?' sald the new secretary, looking up from hig work when Star- way, “I thought you were once more a family man, and had cut out the night prowling.” Starbuck Jjackknifed himself fortably in a chair, “I was. But the little girl’s run away again; gone with her sister— com- to get her teeth fixed; and I'm foot- Been butting in a little your game, this evening, just to | doing. “We're strictly in the fight,” de- clared Bmith enthusiastically. “We closed the deal today for the last half- i mile of the main ditch right of way, which puts us up on the mesa slope the Escalante grant, If they knock us out now, they'll have to do it with dynamite.” “Yes,” said the ex-cowman, thought- { fully; “with dynamite,” Then: “How [1s Williams getting along?” “Fine! The water is crawling up on i him a little every night, but with no i aceldents, he'll be able to hold the | flood rise when it comes, The only | thing that worries me now 18 the time { limit.” | “The time Umit?" echoed Starbuck. | “What's that? “It's the handicap we inherit the original company. Certain { rights to the water were conveyed i 5 : i in { the old charter, on condition that the | i i i loose, { above Rinte { project should be completed, or at least i be far enough along to turn water into | the ditches, by a given date. This t limit, which earries over from Tims i yoni Ditech to Timanyoni High | expires next week. Again the High Line's new secretary turned to stare at the black back- “You mean that she might hear of — suggested, “You've roped it down, at least,” said the friendly enemy. “Stanton’'ll tell thing that might make her turn loose any little bit of information she may have about you. As I sald a minute ago, I'm hoping she hasn't got anything {it we shall lower level of ditches by next Thurs day; that is, barring accidents.” “Yes: with no accidents” Starbuck. no way nor shape, can we? So that's why the Stanton people have been fighting so wolfishly for delay, Is it? mused i Then he switched abruptly. “Where did you corral all those good looks you took to the opera house last night, John?" Smith's laugh was strictly perfunc- tory. “That was Miss Vera Richlander, an {old friend of mine from back home. | She is out here with her father, and the fathor has gone up into the Topaz | country to buy him a gold brick.” “Not in the Topaz,” Starbuck struck in loyally. “We don't make the bricks jup there—not the phony kind. But let that go and tell me something else A while back, when you were giving me a little song and dance about the colonel’'s daughter, you mentioned an- other woman—though not by name, if you happen to recollect. I was just | wondering if this Miss Rich-people, or whatever her name is, might be the other one” embarrassment. She is this time without “You've called the turn, Billy. the other one.” “H'm; chasing you up? “Oh, no; it was just one of the near-miracles, She didn't know 1 wns here, and I had no hint that she | was coming.” “All right; it's your roast; not mine. But I'm going to pull one chestnut out of the fire for you. even if I do get my fingers burned. This Miss Rich- folks has had only one day here In mighty chummy with the Stantons, Does that figure as news to you?” added: “I don't understand it.” | “It didn’t ball me up for more than a minute or two. Stanton fixed it some way~hecause he needed to, Tell me something, John: could this Miss Rich- garden help Stanton out In any of his little schemes, if she took a notion?” Smith turned away and stared at the biackened square of outer darkness lying beyond the office window, “She could, Billy—but she won't,” he answered, “You ean dig up your last dollar and bet on that, ean you?” “Yes, I think I can.” “H'm;: that's Just what I was most afraid of” “Don't be an ass, Billy.” “I'm trying mighty hard not to be, John, but sometimes the ears will grow on the best of usin spite of the devil. What I mean is this: I saw you two when you came out of the Hophra dining room together last night, and 1 saw the look In that girl's eyes. Do you know what I sald to myself right then, John? I sald: ‘Oh, you little girl out at the Hillcrest ranch—good-by, youl'"” Smith's grin was half aotagonistic. “You are an ase, Billy,” he asserted. “1 never was In love with Verda Rich: lander, nor she with me” “Speak for yourself and let it hang there, John, You can’t speak for the womnn—no man ever can. What I'm hoping now Is that she doesn’t know | | i | - Smith was still facing the window when he replied. “I'm sorry to have disappoint you, Starbuck, What Miss Richlander could do to me, if would good and plenty.” The ex-cowboy mine owner drew a long. breath and felt for his tobacco sack and rice paper. “All of which opens up more trails,” he said thoughtfully. you wouldn't try to take care to she chooses, be talk “Since of youre be the most valuable asset Timanyond Baw = FETS “Stanton Fixed It Some Way" High Line has, just at present, I've been butting in, as I told you. Li to my tale of woe, If you haven't thing better to do. Besides the Miss Rich-ranches episode there are a couple of others. Want to hear about ‘em? Smith nodded. “All right. A little while past din- ner this evening, Stanton had a hurry call to meet the "Nevada Flyer. Tailed onto the train there was a private lux- ury car, and in the private car sat a gentleman whose face you've plenty of times in the political « toons, usually with cuss-words under it. He is one of Stanton's bosses: and Stanton was in for a wigging—and got it. I couldn't hear, but I could see through the car window. He had Stan- ton standing on one foot train pulled out and let sten any ern ir before the Crawford You guess, and both say it was snap which Is I about this and we'll Escalante RUSS, fizzle. Ain't it the truth?” Again Smith nodded. and said, “Go on.” “After number five had gone Stanton could bite a nail In two. I happened to hear the order he gave the shover, Bob Sharkey’s joint. Naturally, I ambled along after Crawford, and while I didn’t beat him to i, I got there soon enough. It was out at Jeft Barton's roadhouse on the Topaz trail, and Stanton was shut up in the back i § New York.—War relief work Industry. The dressmakers They felt as if ill them all along the an offensive against luck were hitting line. There was named Lanterby.” “You listened?" said Smith still “Right you are, Two schemes were on tap: ane point. other at you. These were both ‘last first, well, I've said i# half a dozen times already, John: you'll either hage to hire a bodyguard or go heeled bunch is going to get you, even if it costs money !" “You say Stanton sald he had one more string to pull: he didn't give it a name, did he?” “No, but I've got a notion of my own,” was the ready answer, “He's trying to get next to you through the women, with the Miss Rich-pasture for his can opener. But when everything else fails, he Is to send a password to Lanterby, one of two passwords, ‘Williams’ means dynamite and the dam; ‘Jake’ means the removal from the map of a fellow named Smith, Nice prospect, isn't ity” . (TO BE CONTINUED.) Sad News, “The expectant heir to his uncle's millions, anxiously asked the doctor when his uncle was taken (ll, if there was no hope.” “What did the doctor say? “He told him there was no hope whatever. The chances were his uncle would get well enough to marry his housekeeper.” if the be paid there that had First, prices were to enormous to the tions for new work. Added to the prices was the serious danger of not being able to get the clothes were ordered through the lack transportation that came after government dismissed the German am bassador, rine campaign was liable to make the sands of the sea, When the prices had been pald by the dressmakers for the spring gowns and the transportation had proved se- America declared war, and economy cry was raised. The dressmakers and the shopkeep- cure, ficlent time to realize a profit on their vast expenses for French March, and the majority of them de- possibly unwisely, that would hold in to clear out whatever they had before economy brought about a crash commerce, gowns cided, EW eeplng sales order snl They they would keep the workrooms busy by alterations, ing es, New Clothes for Quiet People, By the ti people who deal In ered themselves on the verge of nerv- ous prostration through the strain of the spring, there came into the whole clothes situation a light that has broadened ray of sunshine. it has created optimism in all quar- It came through war relief tivities, That seems an astounding thing to have happened, but it is an- other phase of the proverb, “It is an fll wind that blows nobody good.” It makes an interesting chapter in me a great women's many apparel consid- glimmer of into a strong ters. ac the history of won 8 apparel during the war. it happened | (reat at restaurants for lunch, shopping In the hottest days for new clothes to carry them through the “p- pointments of the next month ; and the sewing rooms of those who make thelr gowns at home are busy preparing the increased number of blouses, skirts and underwear that this sudden eall to arms has brought about. The of the United States steps in also as a buyer of huge It is ordering clothes for of the naval re Already It has asked for 1000 blue serge suits, sumrtly made, 2.000 suits, 1.000 skirts, 1.000 gtraw hats, 1.000 dark blue feit hats, Government Sets Styles, The tendency in all the new clothes toward the by government for its enlisted women, narrow and of reasonable are simple, with wide government serve force, white cotton drill i silhouette adopted are blouses jnckets are short and mannish model, depending the cut for distinetion, rial, ana in de on Those who do not care for sults are fitting out thelr wardrobes with cotton frocks, Even at the smartest hotels able women are appearing in checked ginghams with broad straw hats, This is a fashion which has never American cities, niways been kept for the suburban and the country, and when a d it necessary to go on the great city during the heat she felt that she subject herself to the of a She preferred to pass away from molsture In a blue cout and skirt, then roam streets in a checked cotton gown and whit fuch clothes have treet of a the day, that tradition de- manded discomfort sult. serge the ¢ shoes, Now, the embargo on such costum- ery lifted. The only one costume which is comfortable and is yet taboo in city the separate skirt with the white shirtwalst. There must be an or wrap of kind to cover the sharp juxtaposition of two fabrics and two colors, One of the great Western houses re- that it has provide the greatest amount of frocks and suits for war work for women dur- ing this summer than ever before, The reason the somersault in the st Women will not is streets Is cont some ports been necessary to is spon dimity and lace. The skirt is trimmed sleeves are of blue taffeta, The first is a lingerie of in two sections, and the slim bodice The small bows on the is in plaited an exaggerated with jet tassels. it is of braided and trimmed with buttons and but the entire thing happened where | it only could happen, in this tremen- dously prosperous country. The beginning of the war has been written in chapters of activity on this side and fighting on the other side. Literally, millions of women insisted The drive of the Red Cross, which was nationwide ; the extraordinary grouping together of va- rious units for sane and instant relief; the hospital work, the arrangement for providing comfort kits for the navy, the league work of rolling bandages, are merely a few of the dominant ac tivities which interest women this summer, While those who are rich and fash- fonable have put their shoulders to the wheel with tremendous energy and enthusiasm, the appeal for workers of social life. The summer, therefore, Is a season to be filled with Intense activity and a great national grouping of women from every rank and file of human life der one flag. This extraordinary condition con- necting the buying of new clothes and the doing of war relief work, appears to the apparel people in all the glory of an unexpected Christmas present, The city centers are humming with loops. their time these months of hot weather as they have done for a cen- tury. A notable maker of shirtwaist gowns, on whose books are the names of women who live In every state in this country, says that his workrooms are deluged and that his fittings tele- scope themselves throughout the entire day in 15-minute appointments. He holds that the reason for this, In ad. dition to the extraordinary number of clothes demanded by women for thelr new activities, is the reversal to the simplest form of warm-weather cos tumery, which was once the habit of the simpleminded American people, before the extravagant ideas of chiffon, lace and hand embroideries came into being, via Europe. He makes a certain type of gown which Europe thinks is the fatigue uniform of the American people, as the cont suit is the dress uniform. The skirt is plaited or gored, buttons down the front, and often has wide tucks from hem to knees. The bodice is laid in fine tucks or side plaits, or is quite plain. It has long sleeves, tightly but- toned cuffs and a wide muslin turn- over collar. There are two belts, He is turning out these costumes by the hundreds, and one sees them on Namen at all the smart places. ia ht, IIT, b Me opyright, poh fhe SOrS Netupaa
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers