SIO,OOO FOR 100 WORDS.
The publication of " The Million Dollar
Mystery" begin* today. The story will
run for twenty-two consecutive weeks in
tliit paper. By an arrangement with the
Thanhouser Film company it hat been
made pottible not only to read the ttory
in this paper, but also to see it each tceek
in the various moving picture theaters.
For the solution of thie mystery story
SIO,OOO trill be given.
CONDITIONS GOVERNING THE
CONTEST.
The prize of SIO,OOO will be won by the
man, tcoman, or child tcho writes the most
acceptable solution of the mystery, from
which the last two reels of motion picture
drama will be made and the last two
chapters of the story written by Harold
MacQrath.
Solutions may be sent to the Than
houser Film corporation, either at Chi
cago or New York, any time up to mid
night, Dec. H. They must bear post
office mark not later than that data. This
allows four weeks after the first appear
ance of the last film re f eases and threa
weeks after the last chapter is published
in this paper, in which to submit solu
tions.
A board of threa judges trill determine
tchich of the many solutions received it
the most acceptable. The judgment of
this board will be absolute and final.
Nothing of a literary nature will be con
sidered in the daemon, nor given any
preference in tha selection of the winner
of the 910,000 prise. The last two reels,
which will give tha most acceptable solu
tion to the mystery, will be presented in
the theaters harming this feature as soon
as it is practical to produce same. Tha
story corresponding to these motion pic
tures tcill appear in tha newspapers coin
eidentally, or as soon after the appear
ance of the pictures as practical. WitX
'.he last two reels will be shown the pic
tures of the winner, his or her home, and
other interesting features. It is under
stood that the newspapere, so far as prac
tical, in printing the last two chapter*
of the story by Harold MacQrath, will
also show a picture of the tucoessful con
testant.
Solution* to the mystery must not be
more than 100 words long. Here are some
questions to 5e kept in mind in connec
tion with the mystery as an aid to a
solution:
No. I —TTJiaf becomes of the millionairet
No. 2—What becomes of the 51,000,000t
No. 3—Whom does Florence marry f
No. 4 —What becomes of the Russian
countesst
Nobody connected either directly or in
directly with " The Million Dolla. 4 Myt
tery " tcill be considered as a contestant.
[Copyright: 1914: By Harold MacGraUi.l
CHAPTER I.
A. CALL IS THE NIGHT.
THERE are few thiugs darker than a
country road at night, particularly 11
one does not know the lay of the land.
It is not difficult to traverse a known
path : no matter how dart- It is, one is able to
1 :nl tile way by the aid of a mental photo
graph taken in the daytime. But supposing
jou have never been over the road ir the day
time, tliat you know nothing whatever of its
topography, where it dips or rises, where it
narrows or forks. You find yourself in the
same unhappy state of mind as a blind man
•uddenly thrust into a strange house.
One tlack night, along a certain country
road, in the heart of New Jersey, in the days
■when the only good roads were city thorough
fares and country highways were routes to
limbo, a carriage went forward cautiously.
From time to time it careened like a blunt
nose barge in a beam sea. The wheels and
springs voiced their anguish continually; for
It was a good carriage, unaccustomed to such
tuts and hummocks.
" Faster, faster!" came a muffled voice
Ifrom the interior.
" Sir, I dare not drive any faster," replied
fthe coachman. " I can't see the horses' heads,
ftir, let alone the road. I've blown out the
lamps, but I can't see the road any better for
that."
"Let the horses have their heads; they'll
ifind the way. It can't be much farther.
IXou'll see lights."
The coachman swore ia his teeth. AD
right. This man who was in such a hurry,
■would probably send them all into the ditch.
•Save for the few stars above, he might have
keen driving Beelzebub's coach in the Bottom
less Pit. Black velvet, everywhere black vel
vet. A wind was blowing, and yet the black
ness was so thick tlyit it gave to the coach
man the sensation of mild suffocation.
By and by, through the trees, he saw a
Bicker of ligjit. It might or might not b« the
desolation. He cracked his whip recklessly
and the carriage lurched on two wheels. The
man in the carriage balanced himself carefully,
so that the bundle in his arms should not be
unduly disturbed. His arms ached. He
atuck his head out of the window.
"That's the place," he said. "And when
you drive up make as little noise as yon can."
" Tes, sir," called down the driver.
When the carriage drew up at its journey's
end the man inside jumped out and hastened
toward the gates. He scrutinized the sign on
one of the posts. This was the place:
Miss FABLOW'S PRIVATE SCHOOL.
The bundle in his arms stirred and be hur
ried up the path to the door of the house. He
seized the ancient knocker and struck several
times. lie then placed the bundle on the step*
and ran back to the waiting carriage, into
which he stepped.
" Off with you! "
" That's a good word, air. Maybe we can
make your train."
"Do you think you could find this place
■gain? "
44 You couldn't get me on thia pike again,
Mr, for a thousand; not me 1"
The door slammed and the unknown sank
back against the cushions. He took out hla
fcandkerchief and wiped the damp perspiration
Sfrom his forehead. The big burden was off hla
tnind. Whatever happened In the future, they
would never be able to get him through hi*
heart 80 much for the folly of his youth.
It wu ft quarter after Mln Susan
Farlow bad just returned to the reception
room from her nightly tour of the upper halla
t* aee if all her charges were in bed, where
the rulea of the school confined them after
9:30. It waa at thia moment that she heard
the thunderoua knocking at the door. The old
maid felt her heart atop beating for a moment
Who could it be, at thia time of night? Then
the thought came swiftly that perhapa the
parent of aome one of her chargea waa ill and
thia waa the aummona. Stilling her feara, aha
went reaolutely to the door and opened it
There waa so one in aight
"Who it it?" ahe called.
No one answered. She cupped her hand to
her aar. She could hear tha clatter of horaea
dimly.
" Well! M ahe exclaimed; rather angrily, too.
She waa in tha act of cloaing tha door when
Z
THE. INTQODUCTIONS 1 WEBE MADE. NOQTOIM FEU" B ATHE.Q, CHfcGQINED. ■
the light from the hall discovered to her
the bundle on the steps. She stooped and
touched it
" Good heavens, it's a child ! "
She picked the bundle up. A whimper cams
from it, a tired little whimper of protest.
She ran back to the reception room. A found
ling! And on her doorstep! It was incred
ible. What in the world should she do? It
would create a Bcandal and hurt the prestige
of the school. Some one had mistaken her
select private school for a farmhouse. It was
frightful.
Then she unwrapped the child. It was
about a year old, dimpled and golden haired.
A thumb was in its rosebud mouth and its
blue eyes looked up trustfully into her own.
" Why, you cherub! " cried the old maid, a
strange turmoil in her heart. She caught the
child to her breast, and then for the first time
noticed the thick envelope pinned to the child's
cloak. She put the baby into a chair and brok«
open the envelope.
" Name this child Florence Gray. I will
•end annually a liberal sum for her support
and reclaim her on her eighteenth birthday.
The other half of the inclosed bracelet will
identify me. Treat the girl well, for I shall
watch over her in secret."
Into the fixed routine of her humdrum life
had come a mystery, a tantalizing, fascinating
mystery. She had read of foundlings left oa
doorsteps—from paper covered navels confis
cated from her pupils—but that one should b*
placed upon her own respectable doorstep I
Suddenly she smiled down at the child and
the child smiled back. And there was nothing
more to be done except to bow before the de
crees of fate. Like all prim old maids, her
heart was full of unrequited romance, and
here was something she might spend its floods
upon without let or hindrance. Already she
was hoping that the man or woman who had
left it might never come back.
The child grew. Regularly eatfh year, upon
a certain date, Miss Farlow received a regis
tered letter with money. These letters came
from all parts of the world; always the same
•um, always the same line —" lam watching."
Thus seventeen years passed; and to Susan
Farlow each year seemed shorter than the one
before. For she loved the child with all her
heart. She had not trained young girls all
these years without becoming adept In the art
of reading the true signs of breeding. There
was no ordinary blood in Florence; the fast
was emphasized by her exquisite face, her
•mall hands and feet, her spirit and gentle
ness. And now, at any day, some one with a
broken bracelet might come for her. As the
days went on the heart of Susan Farlow grew
heavy.
" Never mind, runty," said Florence; " I
■hall always come back to see you."
She meant it, poor child; but how was she
to know the terrora which lay yonder, beyond
the horizon?
The house of Stanley Hargreave, In River
dale, was the house of no ordinary rich man.
Outside it was simple enough, but within you
learned what kind of a man Hargreave waa.
There were rare lapahana-and Saruka on the
floors and tapestries on the walls, with here
and there a fine painting. The library itself
represented a fortune. Money had been laid
out lavishly but never wastefully. It was the
home of a scholar, a dreame., a wide traveler.
Id the library atood the master of the houae,
THE TELEGRAPH, HARRISBURG, PA„
idly flngerlnc aome paper* which lay on the
atudy table. He shrugged at aome unpleaaant
thought, aettled hia overcoat about hia shoul
ders, took up hia hat and walked from the
room, frowning slightly. The butler, who alao
acted in the capacity of valet, alwaya within
call when hia maater waa about stepped
awiftly to the hall door and opened it
" I may be out lftte, Jones," aald Hargreave.
" Yea, air."
Hargreave stared into hia face keenly, aa if
trying to pierce the grave face to learn what
waa going on behind it
" How long have you been with me?"
" Fourteen years, air."
" Some day I shall need you."
" My life haa always been at your disposal,
sir, since that night you rescued it."
" Well, I haven't the leaat doubt that when
I ask you will give."
" Without question, sir. It «u alwayt to
understood."
Hargreave's glance Bought the mirror, thea
the smileless face of his man. He laughed,
but the lound conveyed no sense of mirth;
then he turned and went down the step*
slowly, like a man burdened with some thought
which was not altogether to his liking. Ha
had sent an order for hia car, but had Imme
diately countermanded it. He would walk till
he grew tired, hail a taxicab, and take a run
up and down Broadway. The wonderful illu
mination might prove diverting. For eighteen
years nearly; and now it was as natural for
him to throw a glance over his shoulder when
ever he left the house as it was for him to
breathe. The average man would have grown
careless during all these years; but Hargreave
was not an average man; he was, rather, an
extraordinary individual. It waa his life in
exchange for eternal vigilance, and he knew
and accepted the fact
Half an hour later he got Into a taxicab and
directed the man to drive downtown as far as
Twenty-third street and back to Columbus
circle. The bewildering display of lights, how
ever, in nowise served to lift the sense of op
pression that had weighed upon him all day.
South of Forty-second street he dismissed the
taxicab and stared undecidedly at the brilliant
sign of a famous restaurant. He was neither
hungry nor thirsty ; but there would be stranga
faces to study and music.
It was an odd whim. He had not entered a
Broadway restaurant in all these years. Ha
was unknown. He belonged to no clubs. Two
months was the longest time he had ever re
mained in New York since the disposal of his
old home in Madison avenue and his resigna
tion from his clubs. This once, then, he would
break the law he had written down for him
self. Boldly be entered the restaurant.
Some time before Hargreave surrendered to
the restless spirit of rebellion, bitterly to re
pent for it later, there came into this restau
rant a man and a woman. They were both
evidently well known, for the head waiter was
obsequious and hurried them over to the best
table he had left and took the order himself.
The man possessed a keen, intelligent face.
You might have marked him for a successful
lawyer, for there was an earnestness about his
expression which precluded a life of idleness.
His age might have been anywbere between
40 and 50. The shoulders were broad and the
hands which lay clasped upon the table wen
slim but muscular. Indeed, everything about
him suggested hidden strength and vitality.
His companion was small, handsome, and ani
mated. Her frequent gestures and mutable
eyebrows betrayed her foreign birth. Her aga
was a matter of importance to no one but
herself.
They were at coffee when she said: " There**
a young man coming toward ua. He is look
ing at you."
The man turned. Instantly his face lighted
op with a friendly smile of recognition.
" Who is it? " she asked.
" A chap worth knowing; a reporter just a
little out of the ordinary. I'm going to intro
duce him. You never can tell. We might
need him some day. Ah, Norton, how ars
you ? "
" Good evening, Mr. Braine." The reporter,
catching sight of a pair of dazzling eyes, hesi
tated.
"The Princess Perigoff, Norton. You're ia
no hurry, ftfe you? "
"Not now," amiled the reporter.
"Ah 1" said the princeaa, Interested. It
waa the old compliment aaid in an unusual
way. It pleased her.
The reporter sank into a chair. When in
active he waa rather a dreamy eyed sort of
chap. He posseaaed that rare accomplishment
of talking upon one subject and thinking upon
another at the aame time. So, while he talked
gayly with the young woman on varied themes,
his thoughts were busy speculating upon her
companion. He was quite certain that tha
name Braine was assumed, but he was also
equally certain that the man carried an ex
traordinary brain under his thatch of salt and
pepper hair. The man had written three or
four brilliant monographs on poisons and the
uses of radium, and it was through and by
these that the reporter had managed to pick
up bis acquaintance. He lived well, but in
conspicuously.
Suddenly the pupils of Braine's eyes nar
rowed ; the eye became cold. Over the smoke
of his cigaret he was looking into the wail
mirror. A man had passed behind him and sat
down at the next table. Still gazing into the
mirror, Braine saw Norton wave his hand;
aaw also the open Wonder on the reporter's
pleasant face.
"Who is your friend, Norton?" Braine
Mked indifferently, his head still unturned.
"Stanley Hargreave. Met him in Hong
kong when I was sent over to handle a part
of the revolution. War correspondence stuff.
First time I ever ran across him on Broadway
at night. We've since had some powwows
over some rare books. Queer old cock; brave
aa a lion but as quiet as a mouse."
Bookish, eh? My kind. Bring him over."
Underneath the table Braine maneuvered to
touch the foot of the princess.
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" I don't know," said the reporter dubiously.
" He might say no, and that would embarrass
the whole lot of us. He's a bit of a hermit
I'm surprised to see him here."
" Try," urged the princess. " I like to meet
men who are hermits."
" I haven't the least doubt about that," the
reporter laughed. " I'll try; but don't blame
me if I'm rebuffed."
He left the table with evident reluctance
and approached Hargreave. The two shook
hands cordially, for the elder man was rather
fond of this medley of information known as
Jim Norton.
" Sit down, boy ; sit down. You're just the
kind of a man I've been wanting to talk to
tonight."
"Wouldn't you rather talk to a pretty
woman ? "
" I'm an old man."
" Bah! That's a hypocritical bluff, anrl
you know it. My friends at the next table
have asked me to bring you over."
" I do not usually care to meet strangers."
" Make an exception this once," said th»
reporter, vho had seen Braine's eyes change
and ' s curious to know why the appearance
of Hargreave in the mirror had brought about
that metally gleam. Here were two unique
men; he desired to see them face to face.
" This once. My fault; I ought not to be
here; I feel out of place. What a life, though,
you reporters lead 1 To meet kings and presi
dents and great financiers, Socialists and an
archists, the whole scale of life, and to slap
these people on the back as if they were every
day friends 1"
" Now you're making fun of me. For one
king there are always twenty thick brogans
ready to kick me down the steps; don't forget
that"
Hargreave laughed. "Come, then; let us
get it over with."
The Introductions were made. Norton felt
rather chagrined. So far as he could see,
the two men were total strangers. Well, it
was all in the game. Nine out of ten oppor
tunities for the big story were fake alarms;
but he was always willing to risk the labor
these nine entailed for the sake of the tenth.
At length Braine glanced at his watch, and
the princess nodded. Adieux were said. In
side the taxicab Braine leaned back with a
deep, audible sigh.
"What it is?" she asked.
" The luck of the devil's own," he said.
* Child of the Steppes, for years I've flowo
about seaa and continent!, through valleyi
and over mountains—for what? For tha
sight of the face of that man we have ju*t
left At first glance I wasn't sure; but the
sound of hia voice was enough. Olga, the
next time you see that reporter, throw your
arms around his neck and kiss him. What
did I tell you? Without Norton's help I
would not have been sure. I'm going to leave
you at your apartment."
"The man of the Black Hundred?" aha
whispered.
" The man who deserted and defied the
Black Hundred, who broke his vows, and
never paid a kopeck for the privilege; tha
man who had been aprointed for the aupreme
work and who ran away. In those days wa
needed men of his stamp, and to accompliah
this end. ..."
" There was a woman," she interrupted
with a touch of bitterness.
" Always the woman. And she was as
clever and handsome as you are."
" Thanks. Sometimes ..."
" Ah, yes I" ironically. " Sometimes yon
wish you could settle down, marry, and have
a family! Your domesticity would last about
a month."
She made no retort because she recognized
the truth of this statement
" There's an emerald I know of," be said
ruminatively. " It's quite possible that you
may be wearing it within a few days."
" I am mad over them. There is something
in the green stone that fascinates me. I can't
resist it."
" That's because, somewhere in the far
past, your ancestors were orientals. Here we
are. I'll see you tomorrow. I must hurry,
Good-night."
She stood on the curb for a moment and
watched the taxicab till it whirled around a
corner. The man held ber with a fascina-
tion more terrible than any jewel. She knew
him to be a great and daring rogne, cunning,
patient, fearless. Packed away in that mind
of his there were a thousand accomplished
deeds which had roused futilely the police of
two continents. Braine! She could hay*
laughed. The very name he had chosen was
an insolence directed at society.
The subject of her thoughts soon arrived
at his destination. L flight of stairs carried
him into a dimly lighted hall, smelling evilly of
escaping gas. He donned a black mask and
struck the door with a series of light blows;
two, then one, then three, and again one. Tha
door opened and he slipped inside. Round a
table sat several men, also masked. They
were all tried and trusted rogues; but not
one of them knew what Braine looked like.
He alone remained unknown save to the man
designated as the chief, who was only Braine's
lieutenant. The mask was the insignia of
the Black Hundred, an organization with all
the ramifications of the CamoTra without their
abiding stupidity. Trom the assassination of
a king, down to the robbery of a country post
office, nothing was too great or too small for
their nets. Their god dwells in the hearts of
all men and is called Greed.
The ordinary business over, the chief dis
missed the men, and he and Braine alone re
mained.
" Vroon, I have found him," said Braine.
" There are but few : which one?"
44 Eighteen years ago, in St. Petersburg."
" I remember. The millionaire's son. Did
he recognize you?"
" I don't know. Probably he did. But ba
always had good nerves. He is being followed
at this moment. We shall strike quick; for
If he recognized me he will act quick. He
is cool and brave. You remember how he
braved us that night in Russia. Jumped bold
ly through the windov.- at the risk of break
ing his neck. He landed safely; that is tha
only reason he eluded us. Millions: and they
alipped through our fingers. If I could only
find some route to his heart I The lure we
held out to him is dead."
"Or in the fortress, which is the same
thing. What are your plans?"
" I have in mind something like this."
And Hargreave was working out his plana,
too; and he was juqt as much of a gej>ral
as Braine. He sat at his library table, tbn
maxillary muscles in his jaws working. So
they had found him? Well, he had broken th»
law of his own making and he must aaffax
the consequence*. Bralne, who waa Menahi
koff in Buaaia, Schwarti in Germany, Mendoia
in Spain, Cartucci in Italy, and Du Boia in
France; ao the rogue had found him out?
Poor fool that be bad been 1 High apirited,
full of those youthful dreams of doing good
in the world, ha had joined what ha had be
lieved a great secret socialistic movement to
learn that be had been trapped by a band
of brilliant thievea. Sldnapera and assaaal
natora for hire; the Black Hundred; fienda
from Tophetl For nearly eighteen years he
had eluded them, for he knew that directly
or indirectly they would never ceaae to bunt
for him; end an idle whim had toppled him
into their clutches.
He wrote several letters feverishly. Tha
last Was addressed to Miss Susan Farlow
and read: " Dear Madam i Send Florence
Gray to New York, to arrive here Friday
morning. My half of the bracelet will be
identification. Inclosed find cash to square
accounts." He would get together all hia
available funda, recover his child, and fly to the
ends of the world. He would tire them out.
They would find that the peaceful dog was «
bad animal to rouse. He rang for the faithful
Jones.
"Jonea, they have found me," he aaid
aimply.
"You will need me, then?"
" Quite possible. Please mail these and
then we'll talk it ovc. No doubt aome one
ia watching outside. Be careful."
" Very good, sir."
Hargreave bowed his head in hia hands.
Many timea he had journeyed to the school
and hung about the gates, straining his eyes
toward the merry groupa of young girls.
Which among them was his, heart of his
heart, blood of hia blood? That she might
never be drawn into tbis abominable tangle,
he had resolutely torn her out of his life com
pletely. The happiness of watching the child
grow into girlhood he bad denied himself. She
at leaat would be aafe. Only when she waa
safe in a far country would he dare tell her.
He tried in vain to conjure up a picture of
her: he always «\w t 1 j mother whom he had
loved and hated with all the ardor of his
youth.
Many things happened tl i next day. There
was a visit to the hangar o- one William Orts,
the aviator, famous for his daredevil exploits.
There were two visit , in fact, and the sec
ond visitor was knocked down for his pains.
He had tried to bribe Orts.
There were several excited bankers, who
protected against such large withdrawals with
out the usual formal announcement. But a
check was a check, and they had to pay.
Ilargreave covered a good deal of ground,
but during all this time his right hand never
left the automatic in his overcoat pocket,
except at those moments he was obliged ts
sign bis checks. He would shoot and make
inquiries afterward.
Far away a young girl and her companion
got on the train which vrai to carry her to
New York, the great dream city aha waa
always longing to aee.
And the spider wove hla web.
Hargreave reached home at night. He put
the money in the aafe and was telephoning
when Jones entered and handed his master an
unstamped note.
" Where did yon get this?"
"At the door, sir. I Judge that the house is
surrounded."
Hargreave read the note. It stated briefly
that all hia movements during the day had
been noted. It waa known that he had col
lected a million I \ paper money. If he sur
rendered this he would be allowed twenty
four houra before the -eal chase began. Other
wise he should die before midnight. Har
greave crushed the note in his hand. They
might kill him; there was a chance of their
accomplishing that; but never should they
touch his daughter's fortune.
" Jones, you go to the rear door and I'll take
a look out of the front. Wo have an hour.
I know the breed. They'll wait till midnight
and then fore* their way In."
Hargreave saw a dozen shadows in the front
yard.
" Men all about the back yard," whispered
Jones down the hall.
The master eyed the man.
" Very well, sir," replied the latter, with
underatanding. "I am ready."
The master -vent to the safe, emptied it of
its contents, cro*s tLe hall to the bedroom,
and closed the door softly behind him, Jonea
having entered the same room through another
door to befool any possible watcher. After a
long while, perhaps an hour, the two men
emerged from the room from the same doors
they had entered. So whispered the watcher
to hia friends below.
" Hargreave ia going upstalra."
" Let him go. Let bim take a looi at lis
from the upper windows. He will understand
that nothing but wings will save him."
Silence. By and by a watcher reported that
be heard the scuttle of the roof rattle.
" Look !" another crieU, startled.
A bluish glare came from the # roof.
" He's shooting off a Roman candle 1"
They never Baw the man-made bird till it
alighted upon the roof. They never thought
of shooting at it till it had taken wing I Then
they rushed tho doors of the house. Thej
made short work of Jones, whom they tied
up like a Christmas fowl and plumped rough*
ly into e chair. They broke open the safe, to
find it empty. And while the rogues were
rummaging' about the room, renting their spite
upon many a treasure they could neither ap
preciate nor understand, a man from the out
side burst in. >
" The old man is dead and the money ia at
the bottom of the ocean t We punctured her.
She's gone 1"
A thin, inscrutable smile stirred the lipa of
the man bound in the chair.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]