liwa"Mllgl aLMfctln HBRIBS' toagH. THE STORY OF THE DOCTOR AND THE DETECTIVE. WRITTEN FOR THE DISPATCH. -BT- DE. PHILIP "WOOLF, Author of "Who la Guilty?" tYOrSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. The narrator of the story Is a physician who has sought rest at the seashore. In the hotel near his cottage lived Mrs. Amelia Glaj e. an eccentric widow, who makes him her physician. Her charminc daughter. Bertha, had enraged herself to Cyril Dnrand. who had squandered most of his fortune and had promised to wed another womin, who clunz closely to bim. One night the doctor hears a shriek-. He sees a tall figure in overcoat or cloak slinking, away, and discovers the body of a vounp woman stabbed to the heart. Taking from the body a breastpin and ring, be runs for help. Ketnrninc, he finds the body gone, with evidence that it bad been thrown Into the sea. A piece of shoo was tnnnd there. Two servants enter a deerted cabin. Instantly their torches are dashed to the ground, and a tall flguro vanishes in the darkness. In the cabin a diamond earring is found. The body had only plaingold earrings. Just before retir ing that night the doctor is summoned by lone Grande, airs. Glaye's maid, who savs her mis tress Is very nervous and wretched. She tells the doctor Mrs. Glaye went out walking in the evening alone and came back with ber dress and hands torn by briars and a diamond earring missing: Arriving, the doctor, to his surprise, finds Mrs. Glaye more calm than he had ever seen her. She resents the visit, says she has no need for the physician, and treats the briar scratches and los of the earring as jokes. Next day Detective Fox starts to work on the case, securing many clews in which are mixed up the names of Mrs. Glaye, her daughter. Bertha; Cyril Durand, Otto Morton and a mysterious Ella Constant. . CHAPTER IV. MOKE OF DETECTIVE FOX'S STOBT. Mr. Banlle and I walked on together for some time in silence. Then I probed him again as to his opinion of the mnrder. "Ij3on'tthinkatall!"he answered posi tively, and vtjlh the flush on his nose ex tending to his cheeks, "I've told you all I know and all I've heard, and you must take it for what it is worth. But if you are going to ask me who killed the woman yon are wasting your time." "Slay I ask you to point out to me where Mr. Durand lives?" "It is the last cottage on the beach a honse painted yellow, with a red roof." "Have you seen the gentleman to-day?" ".No; he was to have been at the hotel this morning to complete a match game at bill iards; but he did not apnear. They say he had sprained his arm packing a trunk?" Mr. Bantle gave this inlormation staring straight before him, and with an air sug gesting forced indifference. "He intended to leave this place soon? "To-morrow; but they say he is in bed and in preat pain." "Do vou believe this story, Mr. Bantle? "Do "yon believe it?" he asked with a shadow of-a smile. I answered with strong and taking em phasis: ".No!" "Was Cyril Durand guilty? Perhaps, but before arresting him under this supposition, it was policy to discover his confederates, if any, before they suspected my intention. To arrest one was to alarm others. It Durand had committed the crime, he would not be fool enough to run owav and thus publish his guilt to the world. Besides, I had as yet nothing definite, and I did not see my way clear. I again turned to the non-committal Mr. Bantle with the words: "You say this Durand and Morton are Terr dear friends?" "I didn't say so, for I don't know." "Did they ever quarrel?" "I suppose everybody quarrels with every body; that's life." "1'ou are a student of human nature, Mr. Bantle. It does one good to hear you speak. They did quarrel, then?" "Yes?" " "Apropos of what?" "Well, I think Morton was jealous of Dnrand, about Miss lilaye, 1 suppose. "And Dnrand threatened Morton?" "It was the other way; Morton threat ened Dnrand that is, if you can call it threats told him i: he didn't look out he'd make him the sickest man that ever lived, or words to that effect." "Curious! From his face I would take Morton to be a very good-natured man." "He is amiable enough when he is amiable; but he has a devil of a temper. I mean easily stirred up. For example, be was laughing and 'chatting this morning when his fish-hook canght in a post. If vou'd seen him boil up and bubble over. kick over bis basket and chuck his bait overboard, you'd know what I mean. His mother was a Spanish woman; maybe that accounts for it. "Did he know this Ella Constant?" "Knew of her, at least, for I've heard him speak of her. "Snoke of her as if he knew her?" "2ever. He spoke of her hounding the footsteps of Durand, called her names, and said if it had been him he'd get rid of her in double quick time. I suppose, like the rest of us. he heard the story or Durand." "They tell mi" Morton is awfully smitten on Miss Glaye." "I should say he was 'gone' there in more senses than one," said Mr. Bantle drvly. "I went to bis room once and found him kissing and kisving again the photograph of Miss Ulaye. .tie s sappy! Mr.Bantle spat upon the ground to prop erly illustrate his contempt for a "sap." "He must have been happy when Durand was bounced?" "He was, and would be if he wasn't afraid the old lady will one day torgive Durand and allow him to renew his courtship with Bertha Glaye." "Gives him the nightmare, eh?" "He'll grind away all h!s teeth if it keeps on." "Mr. Morton has the fignre of a very strong man." "He is strong," said Mr. Bantle emerging from contempt into admiration. "He "can lift a man up by the collar of his coat as easily as I can litt a kitten. If you want to know how strong he is, put on the boxing gloves with him and let him fetch you a crack on the nose. I weigh nearly 200 pounds, and he can knock me clean off my feet every time I am tool enough to spar with him. 1 once saw him half drag, half carry a heavy trunk from the hotel on the other side of Eglantine Hill clean over to the wharf yonder. Did it for a bet." 'Is Durand strong?" "JSo!" Again Mr. Bantle grew con temptuous. "Dnrand is a pipestetn, a broomstick of a man, beside Morton, though he isn't a baby either." "So you think Morton would fight for his lady love if anybody wished to take her away from him?" "i'igbt till his shoes wore out. Knowing his nature I'm surprised he has not long since carried off Miss Glaye by main force." "If she loves him why doesn't she marry him?" "J don't know, unless it is if she disobeys the old lady she will be cutoff without a shilling. Bnt, I say, haven't you pumped me dry yet?" Itliauktd Mr. Bantle for his very valu able imorniation and allowed him to go. Just how much of it was to be accepted and how much rejected I could not decide. The man intended to be honest, but he was afraid of getting mixed ud in the affair, and so what he knew, what he guessed and what he had heard were all jumbled to gether. Let me say that even at this point I believed the case to be one of simple murder; one of the ordinary kind that may be unravelled bv the following your nose. j. tijjuicu a cigar, turned about, and, by instinct, retraced my steps toward the wharf. On approaching it I saw that, with one exception, the fishermen had departed; the exception was the once taciturn Otto, who was still there making the pretense ol fishing, although the tide was out and his hook was in the mnd. He was talking in verv animated manner to a young lady who now stood beside him. Ufae woman was young and pretty, and dressed in rich and very becoming attire. The frirzy hair show ing below her bonnet flashed like gold threads in the sunlight, almost distracting attention from the jewels sparkling on her fingers. This evidently was the intonsola bleiBertha. "sDooninp" with I,., i.i,. .j laxrexIiad no objection, for physically I she was worthy of any man's attention. A tall, graceful, charming figure, posed in a more charming attitude, and in perfect har mony with the bright sky and dancing waters. I know a pretty woman when I see one, and the plump little fignre on the old rotting wharf met with my full ap probation. I sheltered myself behind a stranded r6wboat on the shore, and gazed at the absorbed lovers. Unfortunately, I was not near enough to hear the conversation, and I deter mined to improve my position. As I have said, the tide was out, out almost to the end of the wharf, and by walking in the soft sand I could easily get under the wharf, just below the position they occupied above. The man's back was turned to me., and the woman was standing sideways talking to him. I could make the journey entirely outside the line of vision. Before doing so, however, I instinctively gazed toward the hotel opposite, and I was rewarded by seeing another verv pretty fignre standing on the veranda. The newcomer had black hair and a rich brown skin, and altogether sug gested one of the 'languid yet passionate senoritas of snnny Spain, according to the pictures I have seen. She wore no hat, and she was looking toward. the wharf, shading her eyes with her hand. So tar as I could see this dreamy lady wore no jewels, and no ornaments except a spray of goldenrod fastened to the bosom of her dress under her throat. A pretty figure to be alone; and a curious occupation staring down at the un attractive wharf. After a while she started and disappeared around an angle of the veranda. I knew she must re appear to enter the house, and so I waited; why I cannot explain. My pa tience was not tested for long; in a Jew minutes she reappeared, and without glanc ing toward the wharf, entered the house. My professional eye detected one little change in her attire. During her absence she had cast away the spray of golden rod, and a bunch ot the wild white aster now nestled in the bodice of her dress. I ob served without pondering; bat later I had reason to remember this little trifle. When the yonng lady disappeared in the hotel I determined to play the part of spy to the lovers on the wharf, and without the slight est difficulty I reached the spot under the wharf. I plainly heard their conversation above me. This is what I heard, true to the very letter; "You are always impetuous, Otto. How often have I told you that you have no rea son to be jealous of poor Mr. Durand. I do not love him, and I never did lore him." "Yet you defend him?" this surlily. "Defe'nd him against the charge of mur der? Why should I not? I do not believe he is capable of committing a crime." "Yet the woman was in his way." "If I were in your way would you kill me, you wretched Otto?" "I would kill anybody who stood between you and my love, and I bate Cyril because I fear he stands between me and my love. I think I have fire instead of blood in my veins." "I suppose you do love me, Otto; but just the same you kept me waiting and waiting for you last night, and, loving me, you re fuse to tell me vhere you were." "I have told you that I went to the city in the afternoon and missed the last train back. I remained in the city all night." It was a pity the young lady did not know as much as the good doctor, who had met the lover at a late bour on the night before. The good Otto was not beneath telling a falsehood to his ladylove. "In the city; that is absurd. I saw you in the atternoon, and you said nothing about leaving Eglantine Hill. Perhaps, like this poor Dnrand, you have a mania for meeting yonng women in the open air; perhaps you hare killed somebody also!" "Berth.il" She spuke lightly; but the one word he spoke was tremulous with nervousness or excitement. I wonld have given a good deal to have caught a glimpse of his face. xou goosel i. was only joking. But if you keep secrets from me, I have a right to be suspicious." "If I were the false friend you take me for I would eagerly share my secret with you. If I were not convinced you loved me I should howl out my secret from the housetops. As it is I am half mad between fear and jealousy. If I were not afraid of losing you I wonld run away until the ex citement blew over. The idiotic detectives will soon be here!" "Good, my friend I You are compliment ary!" "And whv should they not come? I am not a hard-hearted woman; but I would help to hunt down the wicked wretch who mur dered the poor woman." "If you will take my advice, Bertha, vou will persuade your mother to return to "the city as soon as possible. The season is over here, and most of the people have gone." "And then, Otto, you are tired of meeting me, of always seeing me. An out-o -the-way little country place is a wearisome place for a man." "I love you, darling!" "Be careful, Otto; the wharfinger is com ing thi way!" This was the prosaic ending of what promised to be a very pretty little love scene. "I will wait for you in the summer house, this afternoon, Bertha." "If I can escape I will meet you, only I hope you will be a little more agreeable than you were this morning. But look, sir, you are fishing in the mud; you are ridiculous." "Let me walk with you to the hotel?" "1 wenty steps? No, thank you; I am safe enough alone for that distance." Peeping out Irom under my hiding place, I saw the young lady walking in the direct lion or the hotel, into which she finally dis appeared. A few minutes later the gloom faced Otto lounged by, going in the oppo site direction. When he had disappeared I emerged from my hiding place, ascended to the roadway and walked on the wharf, which a mati was .sweeping. The word "wharfinger" was on his blue cap. I ap proached him and wished him good morn ing." He responded in an amiable manner Ton had a nice little sensation here last night," I said. "It was terrible, and a terrible night to do the murder in." "They dragged the body pretty close to your door.- Pitched it overboard from the head ot the wharf." "At what time?" "Somewhere between 8 and 9." "I was not at home at that hour," "Bo you neitherheard nor saw anything?" "Nothing." "Was it known that you would not be at home?" "How can I-say?" "Did nobody ipeak to yon on the subject yesterday?" THE' "Nobody. Yesterday morning Mr. Dnrand askecFme if I would join him in fishing off the head of the wharf at full tide in the night. I told him that I was going visiting with my wife. That is the nearest approach to the subject, and that amounts to nothing. But, pardon me, vou are a stranger here, are you connected with the case?" "I am Detective Fox." Please come this way, then." The wharfinger led me under the roofed in structure at the head of the wharf, and pointed to some barrels standing in the corner. , "P0 amnS those barrels, please. I left it where I found it, thinking its posi tion might help the investigation." The "it" proved to be a battered, water soaked woman s bonnet with a blue spotted veil still attached to it; a flimsy blackstraw affair, with a big hairpin stuck through the crown of it." "I saw it there for the first time this morning while I was sweeping." "It might have been there lor weeks." "Impossible; the barrels were only landed there Irom the last boat yesterday. The bonnet has found its way there since last night." The barrels faced that part of the wharf to the right on which there was a narrow path way. If it belonged to the murdered woman' it was probably blown from her head as she was dragged along and carried through some open space on the side of the structure, which side was composed of pine boards with openings between each. On testing it I found that the hat could easily pass through the openings. That it belonged to the mur dered woman was probable, for the lower half of the veil was stiff with dry blood, and then it corresponded to the brief account given by the doctor in his description of the appearance of the woman. I opened my note book and read: "On her head a straw hat tied nnder the chin with a blue ribbon." As will be seen the veil is not mentioned, and so I determined to test the doctor's memory on this point on my return to the house, I wrapped up the hat, and as the wharfinger had nothing else to tell, I bade him farewell. I now directed my steps toward the hotel, persuaded that I was getting on fairly well with the business. In the first place I had discovered the name of the murdered THE DETECTIVE woman, and that was a very important point, for I could now trace out her past history and solve several little knotty problems at the same time. This woman, Ella Constant, had pursued the mas Dn rand, and seemingly he had met her on the night of the murder; but had he met or been met by no ope else? Was it wise to jump to a conclusion before I had discovered the name of the woman who had washed her -bloody hands in the pond water? This woman was not Ella Constant, as the foot prints proved. Who was it then? This is what I now determined to find out To make a false step by premature activity would be to entangle what I now regarded as a very simple knot Haste is the attri bute of inexperience, and I had seen too much bungling work to err on this side. I saw my way clear, and I determined to reach the end of the journey in my own calm way. So I boldly entered the hotel, and telling mymission to theclerk, asked to be shown to Mrs. Glaye's room. I did not pnt the clerk to the pumping process because the good doctor had already given me all the information I required ou this point The young man, however, suggested that I had better send a card. I wrote down an imaginary name, aad under it, "On very important business," and sent it up to Mrs. Glaye. In a short time, and to my surprise, I received a message that the good lady wonld receive me. I was shown to her sittingroom,which was richly furnished, and with no striking peculiarity.except that all the windows were protected on the ontiide by thick iron bars. Sitting in an armchair was a composed. handsome and dignified woman, whom I should have guessed to be 40 rather than CO years of age. There was not a sign of a wrinkle in the grave, thoughtful lace, not a sign ot time's frosty finger in the classically rmlpd dark hair. The figure was upright and self-reliant; full, but with no superfluity of flesh. It suggested strengtb.agility and a certain mature and not unattractive grace; in fact, I have seen many young ladies who would have been thrust very deep in the shade beside the well preserved woman who had crossed the borderline of the fifties. A series of scratches were on her slender, white, aristocratic hands; but for a momeot this vision of youth in age surprised me into neglecting them. She had been reading, and mvcard lay on her book. She glanced curiously at me, but her manner was courteous. "I am ready to hear your important busi ness, Mr. Rogers," she said, glancing from the card to me. A line of action immediately flashed through my mind, and I answered: "Excuse me, yon have received the wrong card. I am Detective Fox!" I had hoped that the name and the title would have startled her into some action or word that would have resolved my hesi-' tating doubts into certainty, but the an nouncement brought no change to face or manner. "Why have you come to me?" she asked. Her voice was clear, soft and musical. "I have been sent down here, Mrs. Glaye, to clear up the mystery of the murder of last night, and if you would be kind enongh to answer a few of my questions you would lighten my task considerably." ""'Ask your questions," she said, with a weary sigh, leaning back in her armchair and gazing at me Irom under drooping lids. "I have been told that you leit this hotel last night near or at the hour of 8 o'clock, or perhaps earlier." , "You are misinformed, sir; I did not leave my room." I could understand now the good doctor's surprise, for the manner in which she spoke astounded even me; it so nearly looked as if she really believed what she said. "Pardon me; but am I to understand that you did not visit the deserted home near the Pnd?" u )K , . 'I have never been in the place in my If it were possible to impose on me I should have been imposed on; bnt, un fortunately for the good woman, I possessed a proof, or proofs, that she was deliberately uttering a falsehood. 'Forgive me if I insist " "It is your duty," she interrupted, "if I am pained I hold you blameless. Ask all you have to ask." "Thank you! Yon lost a solitaire dia mond earring?" "One of my solitaire diamond earrings is missing. X prized it, not for its value, but for the memories clustered around it." "Yon had both in your ears last night" "It is probable." "And yet the missing: Jewel was found In J i m , r 'c-gf " PITTSBUR"'" DISPATCH, the deserted house; and see it is in my pos session." With the words I suddenly flashed the diamond before ber. "That is mv earring," she said as quiet and undisturbed as if the confession were no condemnation of her previous assertion. Her self-control was marvelous. "Am I still to understand, Mrs. Glaye, that you still maintain your previous de nials?" "I did not leave this hotel or even my rooms last night Your insistence is an noying, but I do not blame yon." one again sighed wearily; but was patient, quiet and undisturbed; or rather, she did not al low me to see the symptoms of the struggle in her heart. "Your hands are very badly scratched, I said with meaning, yet with polite inter est. "Verv badly scratched," she repeated; gazing with a irown at the slender hands clasped in her soft silken robe. I could not help saying: "Cats are very dangerous pets." She affected not to see the fine irony, and answered: "I have no pets. I went to sleep with un sullied hands, I wake up, and they are as you see them. Explain why they are thus distorted and you will oblige me." I began to see through her cunning game, and I said with an amiable, simple smile: "You perhaps walk in your sleep, madam." "No, sir; I am not a somnambulist; in all my weary life I have been singularly free from nervousness of all kinds." What game was she driving at? Was there no way of compelling her to throw aside her mask? "Are you acquainted with a man named Cyril Durand?" I asked, suddenly. I bad pierced her armor at last; her placidity melted into a nervous tremor; the color laded from her lips and cheeks, and then came back in scarlet patches; the fingers of her hands worked tremulously, aud her voice quivered as she replied. "I am acquainted with the gentleman." I have captured a criminal after a long race, and his panting breathing was on an exaggerated scale similar to the breathing of the once self-possessed woman. She had a MEETS MBS. GLAYE, strong will; but her emotion conquered her, and she pressed her hand to her heart "Must you talk on this .subject?" she asked with a faint smile, after she had sub dued her restless heart "It is a very pain ful subject to me; but if it is your duty my feelings shall not stand in your way. I have forced myself for long years; other agony is a trifle after this." Her pain and humiliation were so marked that I would have 'spared her, suspecting even what I suspected, but my reputation was at stake, and I was also curious to test my strength. This remarkable woman seemed worthy of being submitted to the most subtle analytic skill of "Lecoq" Fox; at a glance I saw that she was an adversary worthy of me, and I determined to "pin her to the wall." "I cannot compel vou to an swer my questions, madam; I have no au thority to do so." "I repeat again that I do not hold you re sponsible, although T seem to see the final desolation that fate is preparing for me. I have nothing to conceal, either here or in a court of law. Make no further apologies and finish this disagreeable business as soon as possible." "Did you see Mr. Cyril Durand last night?" "I have not seen him for weeks!" "Since you forbadehim paving attention to your daughter?" The face which had regained comparative placidity became gloomy and thoughtful. After an embarrassed pause she raised her serious eyes toward me, and said slowly and with emphasis: "Before I speak, listen to me and correct me if Iamwronf. TnnnrAWaMn...i ing outraged justice, and, believing that my information is necessary to increase or dissi pate your suspicions, you ask me to speak. I answer yonr questions under the belief that what I say to you will be sacredly treasured in your own breast, and only used so far as will advance you in vour investiga tions. You will not reveal a word of what I say to others; and if you discover you are mistaken in certain points, you yourself twill f.M.i --i T . " .. uiK;ii wiiai j. aay to yon. "I am not liable, madam, to give the se crets of others to strangers. I may act on the information you give me, but I will not reveal it Others will only know your af fairs from your own lips if you should be called to the witness chair." "Your cautious answer is more promising than would be a ready agreement to my de mand. Let me now assure you that I know ol nothing that will help you in this mur der. I only casually heard of it this morn ing. Having uttered this statement, I leave it to jour judgment to ask such ques tions as you may desire." "I will try and be brief. Would you ob ject to inform me why you forbid your daughter from receiving the attentions of Mr. Durand?" "Bertha is not a real but an adopted child. I was lonely and I received her some ten.years ago, hoping for a companion ship that I have not received." "Pardon my impertinence; you adopted her during your husband's lifetime?" "I am not married," she answered verv calmly. "To understand this, I mus't trouble you with a brief account of my past Years ago," she continued, in a voice in which I detected tears, in spite ot the strong will governing it, "I was engaged to a man uained Julius Glaye. We were both poor, but we loved each other so faithfully that we promised each other that, if fate kept us apart, we would still be true to each other and marry no one else. I trusted him, and he trusted me. He is dead, and I have still kept my word by remaining a single woman." She became silent for a moment and toyed thoughtfully with -a plain gold ring on her finger. Uttering a little sigh she con tinued. "In those days I was loved by a rich man, who did bis best to win me to himself. He hated his poor rival, and tried to ruin him in my eyes and in those ot the world. He did not sneceed in either case. One day the two men met and quarreled. In a moment of frenzy Mr. Glaye rushed at his rival with a dagger, and was shot through the brain. There was atrial, with the verdict of justi fiable homicide. The murderer of my intended husband still pursued me with his attentions, and was still unsuc cessful. This happened in Europe. The murderer was a rich jeweler without any near relatives. Years afterward he com mitted suicide, but before doing so made his will and then died. Sis vindictive nature is seen in his last testament. He left his entire fortune to me nnder the proviso that I shonld marrr. If I remained single I was 'w?r'f ''SUNDAY,' 'JUNE 15, not to touch a penny of it; if I died unmar ried, the fortune was to go to a distant rela tive of the dead man. On the death of my intended husband I had with the sanction of the law taken his name. I will not trouble you with my agonies; only I will say that, until the present moment, I have not yield ed to the diabolical man who wished to make me break my promise by tempting me with a fortune. I was supported in this determination bv a sum of money that was left me by a living uncle. Twelve years have rolled by since then, and I have been true to my promise. "Unfortunately time has hardened me, the- money left me has gone, and the not-very-pleasant prospect of poverty is staring me in the face. I was 26 when the fiendish will was made. I nm 38 now. If I look older, attribute it to my troubles. At least, you will understand why I call myself Mrs. Glaye, and why I adopted a fellow-woman to share my loneli ness." When Mrs. Glaye said her age was 38, 1 was not surprised; it was probable, whatever might be said of the rest of her story. How anybody could take her to be 60 was a puzzle to me. I said to her: "Your confidence flatters me, madam; but, returning now to Mr. Durand." "I was lonely," she said drearily; "Bertha never loved him." "And you appreciated his merits betterl" I interrupted, to relieve her of an embar rassing confession. "Bnt why did you dis miss him?" "I would not have had the strength even if I had the desire. We parted friends; he wished it, I dared not detain him." "His heart was gone elsewhere?" x "His honor was concerned elsewhere. I wonld not advise evil, even for my happi ness." "It was a woman?" "Yes; a wretched woman." "You were acquainted with her7" "I never saw her." "The lady is rich?" "As poor as himself, and I am powerless to help him." "Powerless for what, madam?" "To help him or myself. As you are here, however, let me mention a personal matter, and ask tor your advice." She gazed at me with her sad, serious eyes, and added in the calmest ol voices: "I am being robbed, Detective Fox." "Robbed?" "So I fear." This she spoke softly, al most in a whisper. "X miss some jewels, and what is of more importance, certain papers." "How long has this been going on?" "I cannot say. I needed certain jewelry, and I found it gone; I wished to look at cer tain papers; I looked for them, and I found them gone. When they were taken, I can not say." "Do you suspect anybody?" "No one." "Your maid?" "No!" This with a decided negative shake of the head. "I would rather suspect my self than Misi Grande. Beside, she cannot possibly know wbpre I keep my jewels and my papers. Yon shall judge for yourself." She rose, touched a spring in the side of her private desk, and a little door swung open, revealiiig a cavity in which there was a small iron safe. She took out this little safe, and, by manipulating anumber of tiny nobs, opened the door. "I keep my jewels and my papers in this little safe, Detective Fox, and nobody knows the combination but myself." "At least the thief must know it," I said, peeping curiously into the little cavity in the desk, in which I saw a glittering thing that attracted my attention. "That is what astonishes me. How I have been robbed I do not know; but I have not the shadow of a suspicion against Miss Grande." "What have you lostup to date?"Iasked, taking out my notebook to write down the items. Let me say that I had not much faith in the stealing business, but I made a show of being deeply interested. "I have lost one solitaire diamond ring, one emerald ring surrounded with pearls, one bracelet representing a serpent with small diamonds lor eyes, an old-fashioned chain necklace of plain gold and three papers." She spoke with business, almost me chanical, calmness. "What were the'papers7 "Of interest only to myself." - "No one would have any interest in stealing them?" She paused a long time as if in consider ing, and then said slowly: "No one would have any interest in steal ing them." She had locked the little safe and was nutting it away when I said: "The thieves' had no interest in that lit tle toy." I pointed to a dagger in a metal case that was lying in the cavity of the desk. "It was not worth the stealing." While speaking she had pushed to the door of the secret hiding place, and, for the present balked me in my intentions." "It is cheap metal, Detective Fox, but I value it on account ot the memories at tached to it" I was dazed by the unnatural calmness, bnt I managed to say: "I will do my best to discover the thief, Mrs. Glaye." "You are very kind. I am sorry that I can give you no details to gnide you." "Does anyone know of the robbery?" "No one but yourself." "You did not tell your daughter?" "My adopted daughter least of anybody. But that is a family history with which I need not trouble you!" I appeal to the wise reader and ask him what he makes of this strange narrative. I am not ashamed to confess that, for the time being, my brain was all muddled. It was a little bit of light to know that the woman was in love with Cyril Durand, and that she wonld have broken a long kept vow to marry him. It was also helpful to know tnat mere -was a rival in the case, and if, as I believed, the murdered woman was the rival, the way to the end was still clearer. The rest of her story did not interest me; but I will say, despite her seeming frank honesty, I had a strong suspicion that she was trying to throw dust in my eves. Place a pistol or a dagger in her strong hand, and bring her face to face with a rival "spoon ing" with the man she had set her heart on, and I had no doubt of the result. The point now was to drop in on the man Durand, and tor this purpose I rose aud bid Mrs. Glaye farewell, determining to send up to the city for a couple of assistants, that the good-lady's future actions might be known. As I was about to leave the room she said, with her serious eyes staring at me: "To help you I have revealed a history that no other living person knows. Jf there are any other formalities, end them now while I am in the mood." "There is nothing more at present" I paused, then said suddenly to take her una wares: "The fact is, madam, to answer fiankness with frankness, a murder has been committed, and many people here sus pect Mr. Durand as the murderer." "It is calumny!" she retorted, angrily. Then with a desolate sigh, "He loved her! Yon make a mistake, Detective Fox; I would as soon suspect mvself as Mr. Du rand!" Very likely, my lady, I thought Birds of a feather flock together, and crime is not always confined to the gutters. But I was determined that the man Durand should see me before he saw a prettier face, and I bowed to my lady with as respectful a man ner as if I believed every word she uttered. On the veranda I came face to face with the pretty unknown with the black hair, who had placed a spray of wild white asters in the warm nest formerly occupied by the golden rod. She displayed no surprise at my sudden appearance, but entered the honse after greeting me with a pleasant lit tle nod. r (To It continued next Sunday.') A Hare Deliverance, Not instantaneously, it is true, but In a short space of time, persons of a bilious habit are saved from the tortures which a disordered liver Is capable of inflicting, by Hostetter's Stomach fitters, an anti-bilious medicine and aperient of the first rank. The pains in the pKbt side and through the right shoulder blade, the sick headache, nausea, constipation and saffron hue of the skin are entirely re moved by this estimable restorative of tone to the organs ot secretion and digestion. '1890, CIS w. i MIRACLES AND LAW. Kothin? Impossible or Improbable in the marvelous Facts SET DOWN IN THE SCRIPTURES. The Superiority of the Bnpreme Will Se lected in Human Will. ONE MIRACLE THAT IS UNDISPUTED rwiurraiT fob thi dispatch. We are studying the inferences from the fact that God is. Last week I spoke of the inference as to prayer. Since God is, prayer is both helpfnl and effectual. It is helpfnl because it is the .act of communion with God. In prayer God and the soul meet It is effectual because it receives an answer. The answer may be a spiritual blessing or a material blessing. The relation of prayer to spiritual blessings is expressed in the word "readiness." Prayer is the reaching forth of our hands to meet God's hand. And since God cannot grant spiritual blessings where they are not desired, prayer for spiritual things is necessary. The relation ot prayer to material blessings is expressed in the -word "recognition." God always does what is best Whether we pray or not, He will do that Bight prayer is always prefaced by the desire that God's will alone may be done. It is not an endeavor to change the will of God. It is a recognition, an ex pression, a realization of man's dependence upon God. It asks no other answer than the perfect fulfillment of God's wise will. We come to-day to the inference as to miracles. A miracle is a marvelous thing, wrought by the direct will of God for a moral purpose. There are many marvelous things in the world, but a miracle differs from all others in what precedes it and what follows it It is preceded by a direct act of God, which is its cause. It is followed by a moral or religious lesson, wbich is its eflect. A miracle is not a contradiction of the laws of nature. It is the result of the working of a law higher than any that we know, and corresponding to the working of the hnman will. The miraculous is the result of the entrance into natural law of the will of God. THE SWAT Or NATURAL LAWS. It is a part of our intellectual duty to minimize the miraculous. God is forever working in the world, and according to methods which are so orderly that we call them law. It has been only by little and little that God's orderly working has come to be understood. It was thought at first that everything was extraordinary. But step by step, that which men have con sidered to be miraculous has come to be recognized as under law. It is no longer thought, for example, that comets are signs set in the sky to herald some divine visita tion of disaster. Gradually, year by year, the miraculous has been minimized. With this minimizing of the miraculous all good people ought to be in sympathy, because we want to know the truth about God, and nothing less than that We are not behaving reverently toward Him if we try to make out that in a case where He really worked only in an ordinary way. He worked in some extraordinary and miraculous way. What we -want to know is how God really works. It is only the truth which Is rever ent, which is worthy of God, which is genu inely orthodox; Falsehood and mistake in this matter of the miraculous have entered into history as superstition, witohcraft and miserable delusions from which this mini mizing of the miraculous has set us free. We ought to sympathize with all honest en deavors to discover how God really works. I would not have this sympa'hy with drawn, even when this criticism of the miraculous enters the pages of the Bible. Here, too here, of all places we want the truth. If there is any way of explaining anything here otherwise than by miracle, we want to know it It' there is any mistake about the sun s standing still at the com mand of a Hebrew captain, or any' clearing away of that difficulty (as there Is) we want to know it NOT ALL IS GOLD THAT GLITTERS. The minimizing of the miraculous is an honest search after the real truth about God. And with all such seeking we ought to be in sympathy. I would not for a moment claim that all which seems miraculous in Holy, Scripture is miraculous. Christ's miracles ot healing, for example, have countless analogies in medical experience. We are only beginning to understand a little oi the marvelous influence of the mind over the body. One of these days we may learn that higher law, which Christ knew, which will make' this whole class of "miracles" as'natural and orderly as the courses of the comets. The point at which we decline to follow some minimizing of the miraculons is that place in the path where the road turns off toward universal denial. So far as this alleged'miracle, or that, is concerned we are perfectly ready, if truth suggests, to affirm that this particular miracle never happened. But to make that into a universal proposi tion and to declare that "miracles never happen," is quite another thing. Even into this comprehensive denial we would be quite ready to iollow if truth would lead the way. But truth, as we interpret it, stops considerably this side ot that. The denial of the miraculons, as it appears to ns, goes in the face of probability of reason, and of fact. There are three forms in which the denial of the miraculous may be stated. It may be declared that the miraculous fl) is impossi ble, or (2) that it is improbable, or (3) that it is unverinable. Is the miraculous impossible? It will not take us long to set a reasonable negative after that qnestion. MIRACLES CERTAINLY POSSIBLE. Bemember that the first promises in all our arguments in these latter articles is the fact of the existence of God. We are con sidering certain inferences which follow from the truth that God is. Now the attack upon the miraculous which is made by those who deny its possibility is concentrated in the word "law." But what is Law? It is simply God's ordinary way of working. God deals to orderly and uniformly with 'the world of nature that we can predict the future from the past There are some men who are so punctual that people can set their watches by them. But there is nothing which compels the uniiormity of this order. xne past uoes not Dina tne mture. It is true that all things are so intertwisted, so dependent each upon another, so held in balance by this which we call law, that any loosing of law, and, still more, any breaking of la, would hurry the whole creation into chaos. But no intelligent theolocfcn will think of maintaining that the miraculous is either the breaking or even loosing of law. It is simply the entrance of a higher law. God cannot contradict Himself, but God can deal differently with the world if He will. The best illustration of the miraculous is the making ot the human will. We live in the midst ot the world ot law, but we are every moment shaping, guiding and direct ing the action of law. Will uses law. If your child asks you to lift him up, must you answer, "My child, that is forbidden by law. the law of gravitation is all the time pulling you down." You can, by your will, put a different law in operation and" set your child on your shoulder. The miraculous is simply the devine will shap ing, guiding and directing law, just as the human will does, only, of course, in a way infinitely more wonderful. Is it impossible that God should do what man can? MOEE MY8TERIE3 THAU MIRACLES. Let me make this a little clearer. The peculiarity of the miraculous is that au effect is produced without any visible cause, without any discoverable cause. But is the miraculous quite alone in that peculiarity? I lilt my hand. Show me, if you can, by any scalpel or microscope, what it is which initiates-the motion. Discover me the cause of this effect It is my will, von say. But what is that? Explain to me what trill is? You tee that miracles have no monopoly of mystery. It is not alone In the realm of the miraculous that a spiritual canse pro duces a physical effect Is it impossible that "there is a sphere of lree-will above the human, in which as in the human not physical law, but spiritual, moves matter?" must we not maintain that the miraculous is at least possible? This brings us to the second assertion: That the miraculous is improbable. Hume has state'd the case against the probability of miracles with great Ingenuity. We arrive at our decisions, he says, by a bal ancing of probabilities. If one man says I saw it thus, and five other honest and equally informed witnesses say, "No, but we saw it so." we doubt the one man's affirmation. Bnt in the case of miracles we have on one side the testimony of a few wit nesses, and on the other side the testimony of almost universal hnman experience. The miraculons is improbable. Humes' argument i; very strong, indeed, against any single miracle. It explains the need that there is that every assertion of a miracle should be most rigidly investigated. So far as particular instances are concerned, Hume is perfectly right Every assertion of an occurrence of the miraculous is improba ble. WHERE TIIE BRIDGE BREAKS. The argument breaks down, however, when it tonches the very point which we are now considering. So far from there be ing any improbability of the miraculous as entering somewhere and somehow into hu man history, there is on the contrary a dis tinct probability of it For remember that we are starting with the assertion of the ex istence of God. Out ot that we are draw ing our inferences. Is it likely, there being a God who cares for men, and who desires that we should keep His will is it likely that such a Being would never make His existence nnmistakably known? I will have more to say on this head when I come to speak of revelation. But I am content to mingle the testimony ot a comparatively few instances in one scale against the testi mony of almost universal human experi ence in the other scale, if I can add to the first scale this immense likelihood, that God ill somehow enter plainly into history somewhere. That, it seems to me, makes a denial of the probability of the miraculous difficult The most important question of all, how ever, is the question of fact We may show, atleast to our own satisfaction, that the miraculous is both possible and probable, but we have not gained much unless we can show that the miraculous is verifiable. Is it a fact? Did a "miracle ever really happen? The assertion ot the miraculous cannot be too critically tested. It onght to be put under the strongest light Can it be myth or legend? Can it be a fact seen through dim eves, and so misreputed and misinter preted? Can it be a fact exaggerated in the memory of it, or taken by credulity into the realm of mystery? What are the mental and moral conditions under which this asserted "miracle" is seen? The genuinely miraculous will stand all tests. THE MIRACLE OF RESURRECTION. Did a miracle ever really happen? Yes. Of at least one miracle we can be perfectly Bure. What miracle is that? The miracle ot the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus of Nazareth died upon the cross. After that something happened. Something happened, else how will you (explain such a change of day as that from Saturday to Sunday; bow else came that old Sabbath to be set aside? Something happened; else how will you account for the existence of the Christian Church? The cross was the crisis of a career of failure. The whole ''move ment" headed by Jesus of Nazareth, which month by month had been visibly declining for at least a year, seemed ended on the cross. All the apostles, even, bad forsaken their Master, and left him to die alone. They were but Hebrew peasant people,-any way, not one of them possessed of any genius, any originality or even indepen dence of thought, not one oi them brave enough to be a hero or good enough to be a saint. The Master was dead. The com pany of followers was broken up. Nothing was left. Then something happened which changed everything, some cause came in whose effect is the Christian Church. What was it? Did a half dead Christ come to life again? Such a pitiful cripDle, with wounded feet and hands, could have awakened no en thusiasm. Did the disciples see a vision? Whatever it was, it continued with them more than a month, talked with them, ate with them, appeared in many places to many people, convinced the doubting, and uttered words whose commands are still to-day being ful filled. As for visions, it is the exuectant who' see visions. The disciples exnected nothing. That is the unbroken testimony. But perhaps the apostles made it all up? Nobody is willing to maintain that They said that they had seen Christ alive after His crucifixion. That would explain things. That would be a cause commensurate with the effort No other theory ever approaches an adequate explanation. Here is a miracle which happened. George Hodges. DONE IN WATEB C0L0E3. A BUI Collector Does Requested and Quia a Big; Surprise. Detroit Free Press. Yesterday morning at exactly 10 o'clock a well-dressed young man entered a gate on Congress street east and pulled the door bell of a house. No response. Then he went to the side door and knocked. No re sponse. Then he returned to the front of the house and pulled the bell again. After waiting and watching for a couple of minutes he went back to the side door. Getting no re sponse to his repeated knocks he pulled a paper from his pocket and was making a "mem," when a second-story window was carefully raised, a pail of water balanced for an instant on the sill, and then souse it went over the young man below. He ut tered a yell and leaped into a lilac bush, and from there he reached the fence and gained. the street Just then an officer came up and asked: "Anything the matter?" "Oh, only a trifle." "What were you doing in there?" "Trying to collect interest on a chattel mortgage that's all. Lady told me to call at 10, and I called. She was ready for me. uoou day. TAKING SPIRIT PHOTOS. An English Artist Tell Voir the Latest Honx Is Perpetrated. Fall Mall Budget "There are several ways of producing the modern spirit photograph," said an artist to me. "This one," pointing to a photograph of a man in a chair asleep with a spirit standing near him, "was done by first pho tographing a man in the ordinary way with a black cloth background. Then another person draped in ghostly garments stands in the required position, bnt a little out ot focus to prevent the outlines beine too sharp and corporeal. Light is then only on the spirit, and the same negative as used before is exposed a second time, and all the rest of the field being black the spirit only is pho tographed. Of course, the second exposure is longer than with ordinary amount of light, but this adds to the ghostliness' "But how do yon make them impalpable and uncanny?" "The room must be perfectly dark, 'and on the ghost only a ray of sunlight falls; while close to the lens a sheet of fine gauze if hung, 3ud it is the gauze which gives a cloud-like, luminous appearance to the spirit's outlines." Keelv'a Whole Secret Oot. Now York Ban. The whole secret of the Keelj motor has been explained by the inventor himself. What can be more lncid than the following: "There is a triple sympathetic order of Vibration diverting the positive' and nega tive currents to onegeneral polarized center; mis rotary action is continuous wnen sym pathetically associated with the polar i iruou 19 THE FIRESIDE SPHIM k Collection of EnipatiCul Jnts for CracM Address communication! for this deparlmen to E. R. Chadbouict. Lewiston, Maine. 1081 A OBEAT "WORK. r. M.H. 1082 ESIQMA. To seven wise men I referred For the meaning of a word. Though each one answered me with speed, 'lis strange to say no two agreed. I was reminded of the tale Of the chameleon rather stale. A billiard player said he knew It was a carom was that true? A printer, just as confident. Said that a printing type it meant A surgeon said 'twas what he found Quite useful when be stitched a wound. 'Tis dignitary of the church. Replied a priest of deep research. A music teacher answerd soft It is a round. I've taught It oft A theologian said his school Considered it a sacred ruler And still another said that it Referred to parts of Holy Writ. All these answers made me more Bewildered than I was before. NxxSOlTLUr. 1083 CHARADE. In mathematics first ws meet, I cannot tell you more. Else 1 would show me indiscreet, And next this con before I write this line. To-morrow Decoration Bay To Cleveland I will go: Perhaps on fait the train will stay. And wait awhile: you know Why I decline To giro a f nil and clearer view Of first and next and last: I'll eiTe no whole, not e'en to you. Whose perfect lists have passed Ahead of mm: H. C. BTTBOJEt. 1084 HALF SQUARE. 1. To sever. 2. Internal. 3. Ones who beat with stones. 4. To threaten. 5. To raise. & To set in mud. 7. A genns of quadrupeds. 8. A termination. 9. A letter. Z.L.O.B. 1083 ANAORAM. I am perplexed and In a fret; I'm over head and ears in debtt My creditors annoy me so To get their pay for what I owe 1 have no peace where shall I goT I have no means with which to pay Perhaps I'd better run away, And seek a home in Canada. Sometime I think a rope or knife I'll use "to put an end to" life. I know that to economize. And thns save money, would be wise, I might abandon beer and rum; "To leave off" smoking wonld save soma; But those I'm owing will not wait, lly reformation comes too late, AlasI AlasI 1 am undone. No hone for heln from anyone: "I notice duns," and I must run. Nklsoslut. 1086 CIRCLE. V (Twelve Letter!.) To the lettermost commonly used. And a creatnre that's often abused. Add a genus of nlants ornamental. The result is a raft which one did invent. When bis powerful army 'gainst England was sent, v And he spared not the poor Continental. EmmaRwgstboic 1037 double ackostic. "ITordi of 8 Zetters." 1. Inevitable. 2. The gar-flsh or sea needle. 3: An ass. 4. A fantastical person. CObs.') J'rimals To-ape. Finals Begone. Combined A spiritous liquor distilled from the yeasty liquor In which boiled rice has bees fermented under pressure many days. Glass. & 1088 xukebical chabadx. ltol I'm seldom seen, because Vm first; I am unusual and dispersed; Though underdone, aud never dense, I'm of much value In one sense. StolL Among my meanings I may mention Tumult, discord and dissension. Or it 'mongst classes you should seek,'. You might define me as a clique. ItolL It Is my business to expand. To give extension, understand. I like to spread things ont in space Bo as to nil each empty place. ( Nxxsoxluc 1089 TRANSPOSITIOir First. Those clad In these, the broken-hearted, , Are mourning for a friend departed. Second. Folks cut up these and think they're Jollyt 1 call them boyish kind of folly. lnird. This brings about remorse and worry,' Keep out of It or you'll be sorry. Fourth. Upon a road of hardened grave! How fast these roadsters sometimes travel. J. alcK. 1090 SYNCOPAXIOIT. A last upon the whole must be One who is sailing on the seaa. Nslsoxlut. MAY SOLVIXG. Prizewinners: L Peg. Swissvale, Pa. 2. H. C. Burger. Alliance. O. 3. Glass, Pittsburg. Rollof honor: OliverTwUt, William Hughes, Clement Raymond, Esther L. Cook, C. J7 BL Lillian W. Preece. George M. Smith, Barbara," Ingllis, Dora A. Rankin. U. P. J., J. L. Carter. ANSWERS. 1071 Baby McK.ee. 1072 Blandisner. 1073 Mot-to. 107-1 H aoiend A pldemi O R agabas II C aracol I II nbarro L L andfal L E ssonlt E B abuloa a 1075 Garter, garret, grater. 1076 Gnash, gash. 1077- ZODIAC OPORTO D O K A T 8 I R A T O S A T T O K E COSSET 1078 Vociferations. 107-DrolI, roll. 1US0 Latent, talent. CAEING FOB THE CATCH. flints for. the Sportsman Who Expects W Hook Striae of FUh. forest and Stream. The angler should take care of his fish after he has caught them. It is discredit ableto fetch back a lot of snn and wind dried fish, all curled up and stiff. Put a handful of grass or ferns in the bottom of the creel and kill the fish as soon as caughti by hitting them a sharp blow on the back of the head. If the weather is hot, clean the morning's catch at noon, and every few hours dip the creel in the stream. The best way to keep fish to take home is' as follows: Clean them thoroughly, taking care to remove the gills and the blood under the backbone, wipe dry inside and ont, but do not wash them, sprinkle them inside with black pepper, bnt on no account use salt. Pack in cool, fresh grass and keep them In theibade. If ice is used it shonld be pnt in a tin can, or at least at the bottom of ths creel, for it spoils the flavor of fish to h&va them soaking la water. hi 0 k- I lfT I m -sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssslsssssssssssssssssssssssssssss "HHKHlMWHHHirHMfi8BSi?3SBHBH 'TBHBIHlBBBHBxBiBBiBBBBBBEPBHHBsHHBsBHBBBHsRi ftaesLsrWB
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