MILLION COLLAR MOTTLES
SIO,OOO FOR 100 WORDS:
" The Million Dollar Mystery" story
will run for ticenty-lico consecutive weeks
in this paper. By an arrangement with
the Thanhouser Film company it has been
made possible not only to read the story
in this paper but also to see it each week
in the various moving picture theaters.
For the solution of this mystery story
910,000 will be given.
CONDITIONS GOVERNING THE
CONTEST.
The prize of SIO,OOO will be won by the
man, woman, or child who 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
MacGrath.
Solutions may be sent to the Than
houser Film corporation, either at Chicago
or New York, any time up to midnight,
Deo. 14. This allows four weeks after the
first appearance of the last film releases
and three weeks after the last chapter is
published in this paper in which to submit
solutions.
• A board of three judges will determine
which of the many solutions received is the
most acceptable. The judgment of this
board will be absolute and final. Nothing
of a literary nature will be considered in
the decision, nor given any preference in
the selection of the winner of the SIO,OOO
prize. The last two reels, which will give
the most acceptable solution to the mys
tery, will be presented in the theaters
having this feature as soon as it is pos
sible to produce the same. The story corre
sponding to these motion pictures will ap
pear in the newspapers coincidcntally, or
as soon after the appearance of the pic
tures as practicable. TTitft the last two
reels will be shown the pictures of the win
ner, his or her home, and other interesting
features. It is understood that the news
papers, so far as practicable, it printing
the last two chapters of the story by Har
old MacGrath, will also show a picture of
the successful contestant.
Solutions to the mystery must not be
more than 100 words long. Here are,
some questions to be kept in mind in
connection with the mystery as an aid to
a solution:
No. I—What becomes of the r. illionalret
No. 2 —'What becomes of the $1,000,0001
No. B—Whom does Florence marryt
No..{ —What becomes of the Russian
countess t
Nobody connected either directly or in
dircctly with " The Million Dollar Mys
tery " will be considered as a contestant.
_________
SYNOPSIS OP PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.
I Stanley Hargreave, millionaire, after a
miraculous escape from the den of the
Kan* of brilliant thieves known as the
Black Hundred, lives the life of a recluse
for eighteen years. Hargreave one night
enters a Broadway restaurant and there
comes face to face with the gang's
leader, Braine.
After the meeting, during which
neither man apparently recognises the
other, Hargrrave hurries to his magnlil
cent Rlverdale home and lays plans for
making his escape from the country. He
writes n letter to the girls' school In
Ken Jersey where eighteen years before
he had mysteriously left on the doorstep
his baby daughter, Florence Gray. He
also pays a visit to the hangar of a
daredevil aviator.
Braine and members of his band sur
round Hargreave's home at night, but as
they enter the house the watchers oat
aide see a balloon leave the roof. The
safe Is found empty—the million which
Hargreave was known to have drawn
that day was gone. Then some one an
nounced the balloon had been punctured
and dropped into the sea.
Florence arrives from the girls" school.
Princess Olga, Br.iine's companion, vis
its her and claims to be a relative. Two
bogus detectives call, but their plot Is
foiled by Norton, a newspaper man.
By bribing the captain of the Orient
Norton lays a trap for Braine and his
gang. Princess Olga also visits the Ori
ent's captain and she easily falls Into the
reporter's snare. The plan proves abor
tive through Braine's good luck and only
hirelings fall Into the hands of the
police.
[Copyright: 1914: By Harold MacGrath.]
CHAPTER IV.
THE FLAT ON THE TOP FLOOR.
BRAINE crawled from his uncomfort
able hiding place. His clothes were
soiled and damp, his hat gone. By
a hair's breadth he had escaped the
clever trap laid for him. Hargreave was
alive, he bad escaped; Braine was as cer
tain of this fact as he was of bis own
breathing. He now knew how to account for
the flickering light in the upper story of
the warehouse. His ancient enemy had been
wp.tehing him all the time. More than this,
Hargreave and the meddling reporter were in
collusion. In the flare of lights at the end
of the grin-play he had caught the profile of
the reporter. Here was a dangerous man,
who must be watched with the utmost care.
He, Braine, had been lured to commit an
overt act, and by the rarest good luck had
escaped with nothing more serious than a
cold chill and a galling disappointment
He crawled along the top of the pier,
listening, sending his dark-accustomed glance
hither and thither. The sky In the east was
growing paler and paler. In and out among
the bales of wool, bags of coffee, and lemon
crates he slowly and cautiously wormed his
way. A watchman patrolled the office side
of the warehouse, and Braine found it pos
sible to creep around the other way, thence
Into the street. After that he straightened
up, sought a second hand shop and pur
chased a soft hat which he pulled down over
his eyes.
He had half a dozen rooms which he al
ways kept in readiness for such adventures
as this. He rented-them furnished in small
hotels which never asked questions of their
patrons. To one of these he went as fast
as his weary legs could carry him. He al
ways carried the key. Once in his room he
donned fresh wearing apparel, linen, sboesj
and shaved. Then he proceeded downstair*,
the second hand hat still shading his 'yes
and the upper part of his face.
At half past 12 Norton entered the Knick
erbocker cafe-restaurant, and the first per
son he noticed was Braine, reading the
morning's paper, propped up against th<»
water carafe. Evidently he had just or
dered, for there was nothing on his plate.
Norton waiked over and laid his hand upon
Braioe's shoulder. The man looked up with
mild curiosity.
" Why, Norton, sit down, sit down I Have
you had lunch? No? Join me."
" Thanks. Came in for my breakfast,"
said Norton, drawing out the chair. Braine
was sitting with his back to the wall on the
lounge-seat.
" I wonder if you newspaper men ever
eat a real true enough breakfast. I should
think the hours you lead would kill you off.
Anything new on the Hargreave story?"
" I'm not handling that," the reporter lied
cheerfully. " Didn't want to. I knew him
rather intimately. I've a horror of dead peo
ple, and don't want to be called upon to iden
tify the body when they find it."
"Then you think they will find It?"
" I don't know. It's a strange mixup.
I'm not on the story, mind you; but I was
in the locality of Duffy's warehouse late
last night and fell into a gunman rumpus."
"Yes, I read about that. What were they
after?"
" You've got me there. No one seems to
know. Some cock and bull story about ther*
being something valuable. There was."
" What was it? The report In this papei
does not say."
"Ten thousand bags of coffee."
Braine lay back in his chair and laughed.
"If you want my opinion," said Norton,
" I believe the gunmen were out to shoot up
another gang, and the police got wind of it."
" Don't you think it about time the police
called a halt in this gunman matter?"
"O, so long as they pot each other the
police look the other way. It saves a long
trial and passage up the river. Besides,
whenever they are robbed some big polßician
manages to open the door for them. Great
is the American voter."
"Take Mr. Norton's order, Luigi," said
Braine.
"A German pancake, buttered toast, and
coffee," ordered the reporter.
"Man, eat something!"
"' It'B enough for me." ,
" And you'll go all the rest of the day on
tobacco. I know something of you chaps. I
don't see how you manage to do it."
" Food is the least of our troubles. By
■the way, may I ask you a few questions?
Nothing for print, unless you've got a new
book coming."
" Fire away."
" What do you know about the Princess
Perigoff? "
" Let me see. H'm. Met her first about
a year ago at a reception given to Nasimova.
A very attractive woman. I see quite a
lot of her. Why?"
"Well, she claims to be a sort of aunt to
Hargreave's daughter."
" She said something to me about that the
other night. You never know where you're
at in this world, do you?"
The Oerman pancake, the toast, the coffee
disappeared, and the reporter passed his
cigars.
" The president visits town today and I'm
off to watch the show. I suppose I'll have
to interview him about the tariff and all that
rot. When you start on a new book let me
know and I'll be your press agent."
" That's a bargain."
* Thanks for the breakfast."
Braine picked up his newspaper, smoked
and read. He smoked, yes, but he only pre
tended to read. The young fool was clever,
but no man is infallible. He bad not the
least suspicion; he saw only the newspaper
story. Still, in some manner he might stumble
upon the truth, and it would be just as well
to tie the reporter's hands effectually.
The rancor of early morning had been sub
dued ; anger and quick temper never paid In
the long run, and no one appreciated this
fact better than Braine. To put Norton out
of the way temporarily was only a wise pre
caution ; it was not a matter of spite OP
reprisal.
He paid the reckoning, left the restaurant,
and dropped into one of his clubs for a game
of billiards. He drew quite a gallery about
the table. He won easily, racked his cue, and
sought the apartments of the princess.
What a piece of luck It was that Olga had
really married that old dotard, Perigoff! He
bad left her a titled widow six months after
her marriage. But she had had hardly a
kopeck to call her own.
" Olga, Hargreave is alive. He was there
last night But somehow he anticipated the
raid and had the police in waiting. The
question is, has he fooled us? Did he take
that million or did he hide it? There Is one
thing left; to get that girl. No matter where
Hargreave is hidden, the knowledge that she
is in my hands will bring him out into the
open."
"No more blind alleys."
"What's on your mind?"
" She has never seen her father. She con
fessed to me that she has not even seen a
photograph of him."
There was a long pause.
"Do you understand me?" fehe asked.
"By the Lord Harry, I do! You've a
head on you worth two of mine. The very
simplicity of the idea will win out for us.
Some one to pose as her father; a message
handed to her in secret.; dire misfortune if
she whispers a word to any one; that her
father's life hangs upon the secrecy ; she must
confide in no one, least of all Jones, the but-
THE TELEGRAPH, HARRISBURG, PA„ JULY 1914.
ler. It all depends upon how the letter gets
to her. Bred in the country, she probably
sleeps with her window open. A pebble at
tached to a note, tossed into the window.
I'll trust this to no one; I'll do it myself.
With the girl in our control the rest will be
easy. If she really does not know where the
money is, Hargreave will tell us. Great
head, little woman, great head. She does not
know hor father's handwriting?"
" She has never seen a scrap of It. All
that Miss Farlow ever received was money.
The original note left on the doorstep with
Florence hns been lost. Trust me to make
all these inquiries."
SHI? CHANCE© TO LOOK WTO TXkCfiACKKD MRKCE. IN IT SH& SW
"Tomorrow night, then, immediately after
dinner, a taxicab will await her just around
the corner. Grange is the best man I can
think of. He's an artist when it comes to
playing the old man parts."
" Not too old, remember. Hargreave isn't
over 45."
" Another good point. I'm going to stretch
out here on the divan and snooze for a
.while. Had a devil of a time last night."
"When shall I wake you?"
"At C. We'll have an early dinner sent
in. I want to keep out of everybody's way.
By-by! "
In less than three minutes he was sound
asleep. The woman gazed down at him in
wonder and envy. If only she could drop
to sleep like that! Very softly she pressed
her lips to his hair.
At 11 o'clock the following night the hall
light in the Hargreave house was turned off
and the whole interior became dark. A
shadow crept through the lilac bushes with
out any more sound than a cat would have
made. Florence's window was open, as the
archconspirator had expected it would be.
With a small string and stone as a sling he
sent the letter whirling skillfully through the
air. It sailed into the girl's room. The man
below heard no sound of the stone hitting
anything, and concluded that it had struck
the bed.
He waited patiently. Presently a waver
ing light could be distinguished over the silt
of the window. The girl was awake and
had lit the candle. This knowledge was suf
ficient for his need. The tragic letter would
do the rest, that is, if the girl came from
the same pattern as her father and mother
strong willed and adventurous. ,
He tiptoed back to the lilacs, when a noise
sent him close to the ground. Half a dozen
feet away he saw a Bhadow creeping along
toward the front door. Presently the shadow
stood up as if listening. He stooped again
and ran lightly to the steps, up these to the
door, which he hugged.
Who- was this? wondered Bralne. Patient
ly he waited, arranging his posture so that
he could keep a lookout at the door. By and
by the door opened cautiously. A man, hold
ing a candle, appeared. Braine vaguely rec
ognized Olga's description of the butler. The
man on the veranda suddenly blew out the
light
Braine could hear the low murmur of
voices, but nothing more. The conversation
lasted scarcely a minute. The door closed
and the man ran down the steps, across the
lawn, with Braine close at his heels.
" Just a moment Mr. Hargreave," he
called ironically ; " just a moment! "
The man he addressed as Hargreave turned
with lightning rapidity and struck. The blow
caught Braine above the ear, knocking him
flat. When he regained his feet the rumble
of a motor told him the rest of the story.
By the dim light of her bedroom candle
Florence read the note which had found en
trance so strangely and mysteflously into her
room. Her father! He lived, he needed her!
Alive but in dread peril, and only she coulj
save him ! She longed to fly to him at once,
then and there. How could she wait till to
morrow night at 8? Immediately she began
to plan how to circumvent the watchful
Jones and the careful Susan. Her father 1
She slept no more that night.
"My Darling Daughter—l must see yon.
Come at 8 o'clock tomorrow night to 78 Grove
street, third floor. Confide in no one, or you
seal my death warrant.
" Your unhappy
" FATHER."
What child would refuse to obey a sum
mons like this?
A light tap on the door started her.
"Is anything the matter?" asked the mild
voice of Jones.
" No. I got up to get a drink of water."
She beard his footsteps die away down
the corridor. She thrust the letter into the
pocket of her dress, -which lay neatly folded
on the chair at the foot ot the bed, then
climbed back into the bod itself. She must
not tell even Mr. Norton.
Was the child spinning a romance over
the first young man she had ever mpt? In
her heart of hearts the girl did not know.
Her father!
It wns all so terribly and tragically sim
ple, to match a woman's mind against that
of a child's. Both Norton and the sober
Jones had explicitly isarned her never to go
anywhere, receive telephone calls, or letters,
without first consulting one or the other of
them. And now she had planned to deceive
them, with all the cunning of her sex.
The next morning at breakfast there was
nothing unusual either in her appearance or
manners. Under the shrewd scrutiny of
Jones she was just her everyday self, a fine
bit of acting for one who had yet to see the
stage. But it is born in woman to act, as
it is born in man to fight, and Florence was
no exception - to the rule.
She was going to save her father.
She read with Susan, played the piano,
sewed a little, laughed, hummed, and did a
thousand and one things young girls do when
they have the deception of their elders la
view.
All day lonsr Jones went about like an old
hound with his nose to the wind. There was
something in the air, but he could not tell
what it waß. Somehow or other, no matter
which room Florence went into, there was
Jones within earshot. And she dared not
show the least impatience or restiveness. It
wns a large order for so young a girl, but
she filled it
She rather expected that the reporter
would appear some time during the after
noon; and sure enough he did. He could no
more resist the desire to see and talk to her
than he could resist breathing. There wns
no use denying it; the world had suddenly
turned at a new angle, presenting a n»w face,
a roseate vision. It rather subdued his easy
banter.
"What news?" she asked.
" None," rather despondently. " I'm sorry.
I had hoped by this time to get somewhere.
But it appears that I can't get any further
than this house."
She did not ask him what he meant by
that.
"Shall I play something for you?" she
said.
" Please."
He drew a chair beside the piano and
watched her fingers, white as the ivory keys,
flutter up and down the board. She played
Chopin for him, Mendelssohn, Grieg, and
Chaminade; and she played them in a sur
prisingly scholarly fashion. Ho bad expected
the usual schoolgirl choice and execution;
Tltania, the Moonlight Sonata (which not
hnlf a dozen great pianists have ever played
correctly), Monastery Bells, and the like. He
bad prepared to moke a martyr of himself;
instead, he was distinctly and delightfully
entertained.
" You don't," he said whimsically, when
she finally stopped, " you don't, by any
chance, know ' The Maiden's Prayer' ? "
She laughed. This piece was a standing
joke at school.
" I have never played it. It may, however,
be in the music cabinet. Would you like to
hear it? " mischievously.
" Heaven fortend ! " he murmured, raising
his hands.
All the while the letter burned against her
heart; and the smile on her face and the
gayety on her tougue were forced. " Confide
in no one," she repeated mentally, "or you
seal my death warrant."
" Why do you shake your head like that?
he asked.
"Did I shake my head?" Her heart flut
tered wildly. " I was not conscious of it."
" Are you going to keep your promise ?**
"What promise?"
"Never to leave this hmise without Jones
or myself being with you.''
" I couldn't if I wanted to. I'll wager Jones
Is out there in the hall this minute. I know;
it is all for my sake. But it bothers me."
Jones was indeed in the hall; and when he
sensed the petulance in her voice, his shoul
ders sank despondently and he sighed deeply
if silently.
At quarter to 8 Florence, being alone for a
minute, set fire to a veil and stuffed it down
the register.
" Jones," she called excitedly, " I smell
something burning!"
Jones dashed into the room, sniffed, and
dashed out again, heading for the cellar door.
His first thought wns naturally that the devils
incarnate had set fire to the house. When he
returned, having, of course, discovered no fire,
he found Florence gone. He rushed into the
hall. Her hat vai missing. He made for
the hall door with a speed which seemed in
credible to the bewildered Susan's eyes. Out
into the street, up and down which he looked.
Far away he discovered a dwindling taxicab.
The child was gone.
In the house Susan was answering the tele
phone, talking incoherently.
" Who is it?" Jones whispered, his lips
white and dry.
" The princess. . . began Susan.
He took the receiver from her roughly.
"Hello! Who is it?"
" This is Olga Perigoff. Is Florence there?"
'' No, madam. She has just stepped out for
a moment. Shall I tell her to call you when
she returns?"
" Yes, please. I want her ahd Susan and
Mr. Norton to come to tea tomorrow. Good
by."
Jones hung up the receiver, sank into a
chair near by and buried bis face in his
hands.
"What is it?" cried Susan, terrified by
the haggardnesa of his face.
" She's gone I My God, those wretches have
got her! They've got her! "
Florence was whirled away at top speed.
Her father! She was actually on the way
to her father, whom she bad always loved in
dreams, yet never seen.
Number 78 Grove street was not an at
tractive place, but when she arrived she was
too highly keyed to take note of its sordid
ness. She was rather out of breath when she
reached the door of the third flat. She knocked
timidly. The door was instantly opened by
a man who wore a black mask. She would
have turned then and there and flown but
for the swift picture she had of a well dressed
man at a table. He lay with his bead upon
his arms.
* F%ther!" she whispered.
The man raised his careworn face: so very
well done that only the closest scrutiny would
have betrayed the paste of the theater. He
rose and staggered toward her with out
■tretched arms. Bat th« moment they closed
about her Florence , experiences a peculiar
shiver.
"My child! " murmured the broken man.
" They caught me when I was about to com«
to you. I have given up the fight." A sot;
choked him.
What was it? wondered the child, her hear!
burning with the misery of the thought thai
she was sad instead of glad. Over hia shoul
der she sent a glance about the room. There
was a sofa, a table, some chairs, and an enor
mous clock, the face of which w%s dented
and the hands hopelessly tangled. Why, at
such a moment, she should note such details
disturbed her. Then she chanced to look into
the cracked mirror. In it she saw several
faces, all masked. These men were peering
at her through the half closed door behind
her.
" You must return home and bring me the
money," went on the wretch who dared to
perpetrate such mockery. "It la all that
stands between me and death."
Then she knew 1 The insistent dally warn
ings came home to her. She understood now.
She had deliberately walked into the spider's
net. But instead of terror, an extraordinary
calm fell upon her.
" Very well, father. I will go and get It."
Gently she released herself from those hor
rible arms.
~ Wait, my child, till I see If they will
let you go. They may wish to hold yon as
hostage."
When he was gone she tried the doors.
They were locked. Then she crossed over to
the window and looked out. A leap from
there would kill her. She turned her gaze
toward the lamp, wondering.
The false father returned, dejectedly.
"It is as I said. They insist upon send
ing some one. Write down the direction* I
gave to you. I am very weak I"
" Write down the direction* yourself,
father; you know them better than I." Sine*
she saw no escape, she was determined to keep
up the tragic farce no longer.
" I am not your father."
" So I see," she replied, still with the amaz
ing calm.
Braine, in the other room, shook his head
savagely. Father and daughter; the same
steel in the nerves. Could they bend her?
Would they have to break her? He did not
wish to injure her bodily, but a million was
always a million, and there was revenge which
was worth more to him thaa the money it
self. He listened, motioning to the others
to be silent
*' Write the directions," commanded the
■coundrel who discarded the broken man style.
" I know of no hidden money."
44 Then your father dies this night. Grange
put a whistle to his lips. " Sign, write! "
"I- refuse! "
" Once more. The moment I blow this
whistle the men in the other room will under
stand that your father is to die. Be wise.
Money is nothing; life is everything."
MJ .
j
CJJ2AT
" I refuse! " Even as she had known this
vile creature to be an impostor so she knew
that he lied, that her father was still free.
Grange blew the whistle. Instantly the
room became filled with masked men. But
Florence was ready. She seized the lamp and
hurled it to the floor, quite indifferent whether
It exploded or went out. Happily for her it
was extinguished. At the same moment she
cost the lamp she caught hold of a Chair,
remembering the direction of the window. Bh*
was luporhumunly strong in this moment. The
chair went true. A crnsa followed.
" She has thrown herself out of the win
dow ! " yelled a voice.
Some one groped for the lamp, lit It, And
turned in time to see Florence pats out of
the room into that from which they bad com*.
The door slammed. The surprised men heard
the key clicks
She was free. But she was no' longer a
child.
[TO BE CONTINUED.J