UJPI Re&diivf all ike femly Ij^fpj
"When
Marries"
By AW IJSLE
A New, Romantic Serial
Dealing With the Absorb
ing Problems of a Girl
Wife.
CHAPTER V
(Copyright, 19X8, by King Features
Syndicate, Inc.)
Sunlight flooded our little chintz
hung room. It wavered across my
drowsy eyes and woke me. On no
othor morning of our honeymoon
had I awakened to such a golden
glow. I smiled to myself
and thought that this day promised
to make up for the gloom of last
night. I lay for a while between
sleep and waking. Finally I man
aged to open my eyes and to call
tenderly:
"Jim."
I thought the lova note in my
voice might make him forgive me
for the night before. There was no
answer.
"Jim—Jimmio dear—what time
is it?"
Silence.
"I sat up and looked reprach
fully over at Jim's little four-poster
—its covers were tossed back. It was
empty.
My heart gave a quick, suffocat
ing leap, and then I arose and pat
tered slipperless over to the little
•white-tiled bath. It was empty.
The world seemed empty, also.
The fifth day of our life together
and my husband had begun the
morning without a word to me. He
hadn't even run the water for *iy
hath!
Had Jim hurried out without
waiting for me to waken because
he was angry with me for what had
happened the night before? Or had
he gone out with quiet tenderness,
leaving me to sleep so late because
he guessed that I had lain awake
•weeping until dawn. Or—had the
gone to her—to Betty Bryce?
My fingers shook and trembled as
1 tried to dress. I knotted the laces
of my white sport shoes—twice my
•blouse fastened itself all wrong and
the little bow at my throat hung
askew. At last I was ready.
I hurried down to the little per
gola where we had breakfast each
morning on red raspberries, thick
cream, coffee and corn muffins—we
had always agreed even about break
fast: From the inner diningroom I
could see Jim out in the little sum
mer house.
So he hadn't waited for me—he
wasn't even at our accustomed tabje.
Another step brought me to an op'en
window, through which I could see
the corner where Jim sat—opposite
Betty Bryce.
A Secret Overheard
I stood for a moment, leaden
footed and leaden-hearted. Then I
heard my husband's voice:
"You must forgive and understand,
as you always have. I can't tell her
yet. I'm afraid to tell her. You
understand —and she doesn't."
Then Mrs. Bryce's reply:
"Of course I understand, dear boy,
and there's nothing to forgive. Ev
erything between us is just as it has
always been." * * *
As I stumbled away from the win
dow I fairly crashed into the table
■behind me. For a tense second Jim
looked up. Had he heard the rattle
of china and 'silver. Had he seen
me?
I turned and fled. Jim was apol
ogizing for his wife! Betty Bryce
understood him—was assuring him
that everything between them must
he as it had been before. What had
there been between them? It was al
most too cruelly plain!
Up to the little room of our love
I stumbled and flung myself across
my unmade bed. At first the tears
wouldn't come, the ache in my heart
was so bitterly dry • • • Then
sobs shook me, and I gave myself up
completely to my grief. I felt as if
T could never be happy again. There
was no use in fighting—there was
nothing now for which to fight.
Suddenly I felt a touch on my
shoulder—Jim's hand. I shook it off
and stumbled to my feet. My dress
•was crumpled and my eyes red—
Betty Bryce had been lovely in her
cool linen. I was at a cruel disad
vantage.
From panic I felt myself sweep
ing to resentment —wild anger—the
hatred they say is so near to love—
flooded my veins. Jim looked so cool,
so well-groomed ii< his uniform, so
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" SATURDAY EVENING,
Bringing Up Father *-* Copyright, 1918, Intenrational News Service *-* *■* *■* By McManus
1 s ti < -jji 3cSEE
ss ™^* a ™® p: [||j':- jjjjjjj
adorable. I wanted his love, and it
had gone back —where, perhaps, it
belonged—to another woman.
I fairly pelted my husband with
ugly words that seemed to fall
about him like hailstones.
"I heard what you said—to that
woman! I know what she was to
you. Even on our she
followed you! And you dare wo tell
her that she understands you, and
I don't! I married you without
knowing? Well. I know now!"
A Tender Answer
Jim stood looking at me for a
minute, that seemed to last forever.
I waited. Would his voice be sharp
and cutting like mine when he re
plied Would his words breed hate?
Did he scorn me for—listening? His
eyes were very grave—black and
deep and still. I wanted to reach out
and clutch back into silence my ugly,
bitter words —sped arrows that had
found their mark, and killed his
love, perhaps.
At last he spoke, and my hus
band's voice was grave and earnest
and tender.
"Anne, little Anne! Tou don't un
derstand. She is an old friend—a
wonderful woman. I was with her
husband when the Huns shot him
down. That is a real tie, you know.
You didn't respect it last night. But
I would never apologize for my wife.
I was merely making sure that no
woman—not even Atherton Bryce's
wife—should misunderstand you."
"Jim then you aren't angry?"
"Only sorry, little Anne. Only
lodging for my wife."
"I thought you'd begun to hate
me when I woke and found you
gone. I thought you had begun to
get—tired of me."
Jim laughed—a full-throated
'■augh. Then he strode across the
room and caught me in his arms
and set his lips on mine. Nothing
was explained, but 1 was happy.
Defeated, I felt triumphant—l
could still make him tremble with
love for me.
"Now I'll go make it right, Jim.
I'll apologize—l don't mind. I'll tell
her I'm sorry for last night."
Jim laughed again—there was a
command in his voice and there
was pleading, too.
"Apologize, indeed! I'll not have
my sweetheart eating humble pie
for Betty Bryce or any other wom
an. Tou shan't leave me. Anne. I
want you here —here in my arms!"
ITHEV TIiLVS \
* th*T erc.AusE \v
X^>—WE Ll.T¥|y
W 6E ySs
I ,D without AJfrj
A omfS- y SoITV/-jrW s i'
i IN CANNING FRUIt WITHOUT HIMR.
CAN THE PRODUCT THE OWn IS PIC.t\EO.
ShAMQ w CtAAOtN COFtr4|*%K>trV
W*HINTON, P.c X.
This is one of the important things
to know about canning. The Na
tional War Garden Commission of
Washington, D. C. t issues a free
! book on canning and drying, which
may be had upon application, enclos>
ing two cents for postage.
THE KAISER AS I KNEW
HIM FOR FOURTEEN YEARS
By ARTHUR N. DAVIS, D. D. S.
I.—"AMERICA MUST BE PUNISHED"
PREFACE ,
For fourteen years the Kaiser was I
my patient. All I know of him and
all that he told me came to me while
the relation of patient and dentist
existed between us.
For that reason I felt at first that,
no matter how vital to the allied
cause might be the Information I
could give as to the Kaiser's view
point, ambition and plans, the re
quirements of professional ethics!
must seal my lips and compel me to
withhold it from the world at large.
When, however, I considered the
grave crisis that confronts the world
and in which my own country is
playing so important a part, and
realized that what I knew of the
Kaiser might prove of some value to
civilization, I concluded that my
patriotic duty was paramount and
rose superior to any of the ordinarj
demands of professional ethics.
In this conclusion I was strength,
ened by the urgent solicitation ol
the leaders of my profession who
were most emphatic in their con
tention that my ethical qualms were
entirely unwarranted in view of all
the circumstances.
ARTHUR N. DAVIS. D.D.S.
CHAPTER I
"AMERICA MUST BE PUNISHED"
When war broke out between thei
United "States and Germany, on April
'6, 1917, I was in Berlin. I had lived
and practiced my profession as a
dentist there for fourteen years, and
the Kaiser had been one of my
patients during all that time.
I don't know exactly how many
visits the Kaiser paid me profes
sionally, but I know I am safe in
saying they were not less than one
hundred, and the probabilities are
they were closer to one hundred and
i fifty. Almost invariably, after my
work was done, the Kaiser remained
anywhere from ten minutes to an
hour and a-half to discuss the topics
of the hour with me, and in that way
j we developed a more intimate ac
quaintanceship than might other
wise have been possible.
When we declared war against
Germany, therefore, while I was still
an American citizen —as patriotic an
American, I believe, as might be
found anywhere—l had lived in Ger
many so long, had developed so many
professional friendships in Ger
many's most favored circles and was
so generally regarded as a particular
favorite of the Kaiser himself, that
I tound it hard to realize that never
theless I had become an alien-enemy.
Even when I was notified by the
police authorities that it would be
necessary for me to report every
day at Police Headquarters and to
remain in my home every night from
8 p. m. until 6 a. m., I had no fear
for my personal safety or for that
of my wife and child, nor did I
imagine that I would experience any
real difficulty in leaving the country
when the time arrived for me to do
no.
Indeed, when, some two months
before, our country had broken oft
diplomatic relations with Germany,
and Americans were appealing fran
tically to our Embassy to get them
out of the country, it never occurred
to me that there was the slightest
occasion for me to hasten my de
parture from Germany, although I
had long before made up my mind
to return home as soon as I could
satisfactorily settle my affairs in
1 Europe.
The same day the breaking off of
diplomatic relations was announced,
the German newspapers had publ
lished the provisions of an old treaty
between Germany and the United
States which gave Americans in Ger
many and Germans in America nine
months after a declaration of war
between the two nations within
which to settle their affairs and get
out of the country.
"This treaty," the newspapers
pointed out, "was made in the time
of Frederick the Great. It has never
been repealed. Germany will re
spect it." As there were so many
more Germans in America than
there were Americans in Germany,
this prompt announcement of Ger
many's intentions regarding this
treaty was quite understandable and
it seemed most improbable that Ger
many would adopt any harsh meas
ures towards Americans and thereby
invite reprisals.
Had the situation been reversed,
of course, the Germans would un
doubtedly have thought it expedient
to Intern Americans no matter what
happened to their own countrymen
in America, and, in that event, this
ancient treaty would have shared the
ttata o I that which guaranteed BeW
RAHKISBTTRG 85589H TELEGRAPH
gium's neutrality. One "scrap of
paper" more or less would never
have been allowed to interfere with
Germany's "destiny."
Influential Germans who called to
see me professionally during that
period almost invariably expressed
the hope that I was not planning to
leave Berlin.
"No matter what happens. Doc
tor," they declared —"even if the
worst comes to the worst and the
war is declared between America
and Germany—you may feel quite
sure the Kaiser will never let any
one harm you!"
I had not let the matter rest
there, however. I had called at the
American Embassy, where it was
pointed out to me that, while diplo
matic relations had been severed, it
was not at all certain that war would
result and there was, therefore, no
reason for me to leave Berlin pre
cipitately.
Had the Kaiser been In Berlin
at the time, I might, of course, have
had an opportunity to put the ques
tion to him squarely as to what my
fate might be if war were declared,
but he was away. The Court Cham
berlain had been appointed but a
short time before and I did not know
him personally, but his predecessor.
Count August von Eulenburg, one of
the wisest and most respected men
in Germany, was one of my oldest
patients and I decided to discuss
| the situation with him. Unfortunately
however, I found him too ill to re
ceive me. He was eighty years old
and, although unusually well ore
served, w&s in no condition on this
occasion to receive visitors.
Another influential patient of mine
whom I sought out at this time was
ex-Ambassador von Sturm. Although
he was now retired from official life,
he had formerly been a powerful
figure in German state circles and
i still kept more or less in touch with
the new Court Chamberlain and
others in high office. His nephew
was Under Secretary of Foreign
Affairs.
I found the ex-Ambassador at his
private apartment in the Adlon
Hotel.
"What will happen to Ameri
cans," I asked. "If my country de
clares war against Germany?*'
'That, Doctor, will depend en
tirely upon how America treats our
subjects," he replied, somewhat more
coldly than I had expected of him.
"Ifi America interns Germans, of
course, we shall undoubtedly treat
Americans the same way, and you
could hardly expect any special con
sideration. although, if you will
write a letter to the Court Cham
berlain, who is a personal friend of
mine, I shall see that he gets it."
"But, Excellenz," 1 replied, there
is a treaty between Germany and
America, I understand, which gives
the subjects or citizens of one
country who happen to be sojourn
ing in the other when war is de
clared nine months within which to
close up ttheir affairs and leave
Would not that protect me?"
course, Doctor," he answered,
Germany will respect the treaty If
America does, and then there will be
no trouble. It seems to me you
must await developments and, In the
meantime you have no cause for
worry."
"Suppose seme of your subjects in
America should act up and start
blowing up bridges or munition fac
tories and should he lynched, which
they probably would be." I suggested,
then r- W ° U Germany's course bo
"What Germany would do then
Doctor;" he replied, slowly and'
thoughtfully, as though such a con
tingency had never occurred to him
before—"really. Doctor. I don't know
what we would do!"
This somewhat unsatisfactory in
terview with von Sturm might have
worried me more, perhaps, had It
not been for a visit T received only a
day or two later from Prince von
Pless one of the Kaiser's closest
friends and advisors, who called on
me professionally. For a year and a
half the Kaiser had had his Great
Army Headquarters at the Prince's
palace at Pless in Southeastern Ger
many, and I knew that he tnjoyed
his monarch's confidence.
When I asked him regarding the
possible internment of Americans!
he assured me that. Some what
might, I and my family had not the
slightest reason for alarm.
"No matter what may befall other
a n Annfl^^ , fi^ OCtOr ' ' he asßer 'ed, in
a confidential manner, "the Kaiser
has gone on record to the effect that
you and your family are not to be
molested."
Another incident which made me
feel that I could proceed with my
preparations for leaving Berlin with-
out undue haste was the receipt early
in the year of a most extraordinary
post-card from the Kaiser which, it
occurred to me, was quite signifi
cant as to his intentions regarding
my welfare. On one side was his
picture and on the other, written
and signed in English in his own
handwriting, was the message:
"Dear Doctor Davis:
Wishing you a very good year
for 1917.
William I. R."
This was the first message of its
kind that I had ever received from
the Kaiser. Even in peace times,
the picture postals which he had
sent to me from time to time and
which were autographed by him,
were always signed in German.
When, on February Ist, the Ger
mans resumed their ruthless sub
marine warfare —a move which was
immediately followed by the break
ing off of diplomatic relations—l
felt that the Kaiser must have fore
seen this consequence and had sent
me the postal as an intimation that
he wanted me to remain in Berlin
nevertheless.
When war was declared, therefore,
I was thoroughly satisfied that,
while I had become an alien-enemy,
I was nevertheless a sort of privi
leged character and could remain in
Berlin with more or less impunity un
til I was quite ready to leave. Leav-
I ing Berlin was going to entail great
personal sacrifice on my part. In
my fourteen years' residence In that
city I had built up a substantial and
lucrative practice of a character that
I would never be able to duplicate.
Notwithstanding the strained rela
tions which had existed between my
country and Germany long before
the diplomatic break actually came,
few of my patients had deserted me!
and even when war was declared this
situation was not altered a particle
Perhaps the fact that the Kaiser
himself continued to come to me
for treatment restrained others who
might otherwise have been disposed
to give me up from doing so al
though some of my patients did not
hesitate to express the opinion that
while it was quite all right for them
to visit me, it was most unpatriotic
for the Kaiser to do so in view of
the fact that I was an alien-enemy.
While, however, the fact that mv.
personal safety was guaranteed, I
had been led to believe, by no less a
power than that of the Kaiser him
self, that there was little cause to
hasten my departure from Berlin,
and, on the other hand, a flourish
ing practice gave me most persua
sive reasons for remaining. There
were three reasons, however, which
impelled me to settle up my affairs
and return home just as soon as I
could possibly arrange to do so.
When the Germans sank the T.usi
tania, living and practicing in Ge--
many lost mucn of their attractions
for me. I made up my mind then
that I would rather return home
and commence my professional
career all over again, if necessary,
than remain in a country which
could sanction such a hideous form
of warfare—the wanton destruction
of women and children. To that end
I went to New York in the summer
of 1915 to investigate the require
ments for the practico of my pro
fession in that state. I had an Il
linois license, but I wanted to be in
a position to practice in New York,
and the following year I went to
New York again and took the state
dental examination. I returned to
Germany late in the autumn of 1916
and later , I learned that my certifi
cate had been granted. Then X com
menced active preparations to dis
pose of my German practice and re
turn home.
My second reason for wanting to
I get out of Germany as soon as pos
sible was the fact ttfat food condi
tions In Germany were becoming
more precarious every day. My wife
and I feared that our child, who
was two years old, might suiTer from
lack of proper nourishment if we re
mained, and I determined that no
matter how long it might be neces
sary for me to remain in Berlin, my
wife and child at any rate should
leave at the earliest possible moment
My third reason, however, was by
far the most insistent of all.
I had become convinced that what
I knew of the Kaiser and his plans,
now that we were at war, ought to
be communicated to America with
out delay and that the only way to
do that adequately would be to get
home as soon as I possibly could, no
matter what personal sacrifice might
be Involved In abandoning by Euro
pean practice and Interests.
It is true that in the early years
of my relationship with the Kaiser
our conversations naturally em
braced only the moat generaJ of
subjects, but in later yeifrs, when
he came to know me better, he cast
aside all reservf and talked to me
on whatever was uppermost in his
mind at the time. After the war
started, that, of course, formed the
principal subject of our discussions
and the part that America was play
ing in the conflict was frequently
brought up because of the fact that
I was an American.
Besides the Kaiser, my patients
included most of the members of
the royal family and the German
aristocracy, and through them, too,
I came into possession of consider
able information which, it seemed
to me, might be valuable in helping
America to gauge the German point
of view.
I was not a spy. I had never
made the slightest effort to pry into
German affairs. Whatever I learned
of the Kaiser's views, motives, plans
and ambitions was volunteered by
the Kaiser himself nor did he ever
exact a pledge of confidence from
me.
It is true that, as a matter of
professional discretion, I made it a
rule never to relate to anyone any
thing that I had heard from the
Kaiser because I realized that if it
ever get back to him that I was
repeating what he had told me, our
friendship would not last very long.
Undoubtedly, my policy in that re
spect was responsible for the wide
range of subjects which the Kaiser
from time to time felt free to dis
• t-ss with me.
But now my country was at war
with Germany, I had become 'an
ulien-enemy in Germany and the
Kaiser had become an enemy to
America! I could not help feeling
that what I knew of this monarch
who had arrayed himself against
the whole world ought, without
question, to be conveyed to those
who were guiding the destinies of
my country in the great conflict
which will decide whether autocracy
j or democracy shall control the world.
I felt that I knew the Kaiser
The Hardest Part I
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r AUGUST 10, 1918.
better perhans than any other living
American. Certainly I had come in
contact with him more often and
more intimately than any other
American since the war had
started and I doubted whether he
had ever unburdened himself as
freely to any foreigner as he had
to me.
One memorable interview I had
had with him influenced rne per
haps more than any other single
factor to hasten the settlement of
my European affairs and return
home.
It was in the fall of 1916. The
Kaiser had come to me for pro
fessional attention, and after my
work was completed he remained to
discuss some of the aspects of the
war. Perhaps the fact that I had
just returned from a visit to Amer
ica made him more than usually
eager for a chat with me.
We had discussed various phases
of the war, when the Kaiser changed
the subject abruptly with the ques
tion:
"Davis, what's the matter with
your country?"
"In what respect, your Majesty?"
I asked.
"Why is it that your country is
so unfair to Germany? Why do
you persist Jn supplying munitions
and money to the Allies? Why
doesn't your President treat the
European warring nations the same
as he treated Mexico by putting an
embargo on munitions and letting
■us fight this thing out ourselves?
< You do not ship munitions to lis,
: why do you ship them to the other
side?"
I was on such terms with the
Kaiser that I did not hesitate to
answer his question with another.
"I have always understood, your
Majesty, that during the Russian-
Japanese war, Germany continually
supplied munitions to Russia. Why
wa- that any more justifiable than
America supply munitions to the
Allies? Then again, in the Spanish-
American—"
"Davis, you surprise me!" the
Ksiiser interrupted, rising from the
operating chair, in which he had
remained, walking towards me,
throwing back nis shoulders and ris
ing to his full height. "The cases
are entirely different. When we
helped Russia against Japan we were
helping a white race against n. yel
low race, don't ever forget that—
don't ever forget that. But with
America, that is certainly not the
case Your country is acting from
purely mercenary motives. It is a
case of dollars, dollars, dollars!"—
and each time he repeated the word
he struck his partially helpless left
hand violently with his powerful
right. "America values dollars more
than she values German lives! She
thinks it right to shoot down my
people."
He had worked himself up to a
degree oi indignation which I had
seen him display only on two or
three previous occasions, and I must
confess 1 was reluctant to start a
fresh outburst by answering his ar
guments. His eyes, usually soft and
"kindly, flashed Are as he advanced
towards me and slowly and in
cisively decUred: "Davis. America
must be punished for
her actions!"
In that ,expression, which he re
peated on subsequent occasions in
precisely the same words and with
the same measured emphasis, I knew
that he revealed most clearly what
his attitude was and will ever be to
ward this country.
(To Be Continued in Monday's Tele
graph.)
VISITS SOX IN CAMP
i The Rev. Homer Skyles May, pas
tor of the Fourth Reformed Church,
left on Friday for Columbus, Ohio,
where he will spend a few days with
his son. Private William H. May, who
is in the Medical Department of the
service and is located at Columbus
Barracks. Private May enlisted
early in April.
5