Ale rt
THE DOUBLE
DEALER
By VARICK VANARDY.
Author of “Missing—$81,500.”
aL
915
i Copyright by the Frank A. Mun-
5,000.00 sey Co.
2,350.84 Spb be
4.000.00 ‘CHAPTER I.
The Spot of Sudden Starts.
1,524.73 “Oh, Mr. Moreaux! Please—please!
2,875.57 I must speak alone with you for a
moment.”
The artist turned about quickly. It
was the bride, of course. He had rec-
ognized the voice at the first word she
uttered.
“] am so excited,” she went on
rapidly but in a tone that was pitched
80 that others might not hear her.
“Please make an excuse to take me
aside, away from all these people.
You are such an old friend that you
may do so without exciting comment
—-and I cannot tell anybody but you.
Not yet, at least. It maye be all a
mistake.”
The exquisite face was flushed; the
beautiful eyes shone unduly and with
an excitement which Moreaux could
see quite plainly was not all due fo
the wedding ceremony just performed.
The artist was never at a loss. He
“7! was always equal to an. emergency,
and judged—quite correctly as fit
presently developed—that this was
one.
He bowed low and offered her his
arm.
The more formal part of the recep-
tion was over, when the bride and
groom stood together, side by side, to
receive the congratulations of their
friends. The comparatively informal
part of it was on; but nevertheless,
as if by the attraction of gravitation,
everybody sought the bride.
Presently there should be the sup-
per—but there remained still a good
half hour or more before that would
be announced.
# “We will take a turn of the. 1 room
together,” he said. “Gradually we
will draw away from the others. I
‘happen to know that your father’s
nall ‘den’ -has not been opened to
eo guests. We will go there.”
She gave his arm a grateful pres-
sure; and so they walked twice the
length of the great room apparently
deeply interested in their conversa-
tion; and the guests who might other-
wise have intercepted them step-
ped aside to permit them to pass,
knowing that Birge Moreaux was a
privileged character in that luxuri-
Tency.
ore
=W © ous and palatial home.
“Now, Lorna what is it all
d- about?” the artist asked: as soon as
they were inside of the little room
ret which her father denied to all but his
intim —and he had few such.
“My ¢ ding presents,” she re
plied breathlessly. “I have discov-
ered that several of them are miss.
ing. My beautiful lavalliere, which I
showed to you with such pride, only
yesterday when you called. The dia-
mond and emerald bracelet that Paul
sent to me from Paris. The tiara of
ne rubies and diamonds that was one of
d Aunt Eunice’s gifts—those are gone;
1 and oh, I don’t know what else. What
shall I do?”
as “Do? Return to your guests at onee.
Conduct yourself as if nothing had
happened; only, before you geo, tell
out this thing?”
“Indeed I am. I went—"
“It does not matter just now how
you know it, Lorna. The question is,
do you know it?”
“Yes; oh, yes.”
Come, then. We will go back to
a the guests who must be clamoring for
: you by this time. Say nothing of this
i to any other person until I speak
with you again,” he added, as they
again entered the great reception-
Foom.
Then he resigned her to, others who
were all too eager for her return.
They had not been absent five min-
utes—but a bride of such exquisite
teauty and grace as Lorna Delorme
possessed may be missed in five sec-
onds.
Moreaux hastened toward the room
where the bridal presents were on ex
hibition, and near the eptrance to it
encountered Richard Dslorme, Lor-
Ba’s father, rated as one of the men
of great wealth in the eountry—orio
f the steel barons.
He was a frosty-haired, handsome
featured ‘gentleman who was past
middle life but did not look it, and
who was known far and wide dy his
intimates and by report for his good-
0 patured geniality.
: Just then, however, his face was
troubled, and he grasped the arkint by
Both arms impulsively 88 he ex
claimed:
“By jove, Birge, you are just the
person I was seeking.” Then, as ff
from second thought: “Where were
you going?”
#0h, I was looking you up, for ome
i thing. Incidentally I wanted another
3 glimpse at the display hefore it is
i tm. Ma. attri
Xr 5 packed away in safe-deposit vaults
i and other places,” Moreaux replied
ma 5 carelessly.
“Some of the display, as you eall
#, has been ‘packed’ away aiready®
Delorme said soberly, and added: *%
use the word in its Westesn meaning
this time, Birge.”
me this: are you sure, positively sures
“Fh? Just what do you mean, Mr,
Delorme?”
“I have just made the discovery
that several articles are missing.
Some of the presents have disap-
peared.”
Moreaux shrugged his shoulders
and smiled.
‘Probably Lorna has taken them
av ~y horcelf,” he suggested.
The older man looked relieved. “I
had not thought of that,” he said.
“Your detective from the central
office is in there, isn’t he?” the artist
inquired.
“Yes. Oh, yes, he is there.”
“And you have got two or three
others from one of the big agencies
around the house, haven't you?”
“Yes. To be sure. Two.”
“Either of them in there now?”
“One of them. I gave instructions
that one of them should be present
with the central office man all the
time. By the way, he seems to be a
mighty nice sort of a chap—that head-
quarters man, I mean, Muchmore is
his name. You’ll never in the world
take him for a policeman.”
“There are a lot of ‘mighty nice
chaps’ among the New York police-
men, Mr. Delorme,” the artist said
dryly. “Did you tell either of those
men of your discovery?” J
“No. Certainly not. I wished to
be quite sure before I did that.”
“Naturally. And neither of them
mentioned such a subject, I suppose?”
“They are apparently entirely un- -
conscious of it.”
“So, more than likely there is a
perfectly natural explanation of it
somewhere about. If I were you I
would say nothing about the discov-
ery for the present; not even to Lor-
na. Go back to the guests and look
happy.
“Ah, here comes the bridegroom
with two of his friends. You hustle
back to the reception, Mr. Delorme,
and I'll go inside with them. But,
mind, my advice is, not a word to
anybody.
“Well, Mr. Fitzgerald Beverly,
commonly called Jerry, I believe, you
look the happy bridegroom all right,”
lhe exclaimed jovially, as the magnate
moved away and the other three ap- '
proached.
“I am hoppy, Mr. Moreaux—hap-
vier than I had believed it possible to
Le,” replied Beverly, who then pre
sented his two friends, a Mr. Thom-
as Gaffney and a Ross MacGreggor;
both chums of his college days.
“Come along inside with us, Mr,
Moreaux,” he replied.
And Birge Moreaux followed them
into .the room.
Ther~ were several persons there
viewing the magnificent display of
presents that the bride had received ;
from her relatives and friends from
all over the world. Also there were
the two detectives mentioned by Mr.
Delorme. ;
Moreaux, whose acquaintance was
wide and varied—his profession prob-
ahly accounted, in a large measure,
for that—stepped aside from his three
companions and approached the de-
tective who had been detailed to the
function from police headquarters.
‘How do you do, Lieutenant
‘Muchmore?” he said, cordially extend-
ing his hand, but speaking never-
theless in a low tone.
‘Good evening, Mr. Moreaux,”
was the hearty response. “I am glad
that you came in. I particularly
wished to talk with some near friend
of the family. There is a mystery
floating in the air of this room, and
although I have been here every min-
ute of the time since the door was
opened to permit the guests to see
the bride’s presents, I have not the
least idea what it is.”
. “A mystery?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about it.”
“A little while ago the bride came
into the room with two of her friends.
They passed around looking at things
and commenting upon them as women
will. I watched them, of course. I
saw the bride give a start, turn pale,
and for a second I thought she was
going to faint. But she didn’t. In-
stead, she made the round of the
‘show,’ rapidly peering here and there
at things. Then she excused herself
to her companions and went out of.
the room.
“They followed soon after that.
Five minutes later the old man en-
tered. He was alone. Of course you
must understand that there were oih-
er people here all the time.”
“I understand,” Moreaux replied.
“Go on, lieutenant.”
“well, he made a hasty circuit of
the room—and it was the third time
he has done it since the reception be-
gan. At precisely the same spot where
his daughter had so nearly fainted I
saw him bend suddenly forward, with :
compressed lips, as if something had ;
startled him, too. Then he glanced
sharply at me and at Sam Crandall—-
he’s cne of the two ‘agency’ men who
are here tonight, you know.”
Moreaux nodded.
“After that he made a rapid tour
of the room and went out; but he
looked disturbed.”
“Well, what then?”
«J went over to that spot of ‘sud
den starts’ and took a look myself,
but I couldn’t see anything wrong—
and I’ve got the whole layout pretty
clearly in my mind. I went around
the room as they had done, but I
haven’t found anything out of the
way. I had just finished it when you
appeared in company with the groom
and two others. This is his third
visit to this room since the reception
began.”
While the leutenant was talking
he did not once look at Moreaux. Bs
~ ——
; plied.
4
eyes were everywhere else around
that room instead; now, after an al-
most inperceptible pause, he added:
“The funny part of it is that all of
the people I have mentioned have
made directly for that place which I
have called the spot of sudden starts
—until this time. Mr. Beverly began
at the opposite side of the room this
time. He is just approaching the
‘spot’; watch him. Let's see if he
throws a fit, too.”
Beverly did not exactly do that, but
be did fulfill Lieutenant Muchmore’s
e: pectations.
He stood up straight very suddenly,
glanced hastily about him with flash-
ing eyes and compressed lips, discov-
ered Birge Moreaux, and crossed the
room rapidly toward him.
‘Mr. Moreaux,” he said rapidly,
but in a low tone, “I suppose there
are detectives in this room. I don’t
know them; perhaps you do. There
is a thief in the house. At least one
article has been taken—a ‘very. val-
uable one. I don’t know but others
may have gone with it. Will you tell
me what I ought to do?”
CHAPTER Il.
The Missing Wedding Presents,
“This is Lieutenant Muchmore, Bev-
erly,” Moreaux replied calmly. “He
was sent here from headquarters,
and has been in this room all the eve-
ning. . You had better tell him what
is missing—but do it quietly. I should
advise not attracting the attention
of others to your discovery.”
“What is missing, Mr. Beverly?”
the lieutenant asked quietly. “I made
the round of the room just before you
came in this last time. I discovered
nothing wrong.”
Beverly had regained his compos-
ure He replied as quietly as the of-
ficer had spoken.:
‘The lavalliere—it was one of my
own presents to my wife.”
He lingered over that last word.
The use of it was new to him. “You
would not be likely to notice its ab-
sence, for the reason that it has been
replaced by another —another that is
yet which is sufficiently similar in
construction to deceive an unprac-
tised eye.”
‘You have been in this room twice
before, within the last half-hour, Mr.
Peverly. Was the missing article in
its place both of those times?”
“It was.”
“You are positive about that, I sup-
pose?”
“l am.*®
“Will you make a tour of the room
and determine, if you can, if anything
else is missing?”
“Certainly. Will you go with me?”
“No. 1 will stay here with Mr.
. z Ta dm
-Moreaux.”
But instead of doing that he
crossed the room and began convers-
ing in low tones with Crandall, the
agency man, and the artist was left
alone. xt
Whereupon he began ‘an inspection
of hii own, starting in the opposite
girestion from that taken hy Fitz
They met presently,
~e lr reiced a pair of troubled
Bt Ioreaux interrupted him
he could speak.
nothing here,” he told him.
“YVait until later;” and passed on.
I--h h-d just completed the circuit,
+d the licutenant was crossing the
room toward them, when a servant
appeared in the doorway and an-
neunced in the wsual perfunctory
manner that the guests were expect-
od in the drawing-room to form in
line for the wedding supper.
There was no help for it. There
was no time for further discussion,
belore
er,
then; but Moreaux managed before
he went out to say to' Lieutenant
Muchmore:
“You and Crandall will have ample
time to go thoroughly over your lists
and to make a cereful inventory be-
fore we can return. Do that. I will
come to you again as soon as I can.”
At table, Moreaux found ample op-
portunity, in spite of conversation,
toasts, and speeches, to study the per-.
sonnel of the company. Several times
ke caught the eyes of the bride as she
fixed them upon him inquiringly; and
each time he returned the gaze with
a reassuring smile and nod. .
But he was glad when it was aver;
more pleased still when the bride
and groom had taken their departure.
Nevertheless, Lorna Beverly found
opportunity to say to him hurriedly:
“Papa and Jerry both know that
some of the presents are missing.
They have not said so, but I can read
it in their manner. Please, please,
Mr. Moreaux, find them for me.”
The artists smiled down wpon her.
“1 will "do the best I can,” he re-
“It is rather out of my line;
but—possibly 1 can think of somebody
: Who might find thet. There is & man
named Crs whom I know, who
may be able fo help us. I will appeal
to him—perhaps.”
“Oh, do! Is he a detective?”
“Well, pot exactly. As a matter of
fact, he is on the opposite
gide of the fence. I have =a
fancy that: one of Orgwe’s ae
gnaintances was here tonight. It was
enly a fancy, but I shall satisfy my-
gelf on that point later. 1 am sure,
Lorna, that your jewels will be recov-
ered.”
A moment later Beverly slipped a
card into the artist’s hands, saying
hastily as he did so:
*“Here is a list, so far as I could
determine, of what is missing. Of
course, I am not as well informed as
Lorna concerning what was there;
but I could not bear to spoil her pleas-
ures this evening by telling her of the
theft.”
an"
aids ssa
ES SSH
®You are quite right, Beverly. Keep
ft to yourself, if possible, until your
return. Then look me up.”
“You bet I will,” was the heariy
response.
A moment later the voice of Deteo
tive-lieutenant Muchmore broke in
upon the artist’s reverie into which
he had fallen.
“What is that about Crewe,
Moreaux?” he inquired sharply.
Moreaux raised his eyes leisurely,
and with a slow smile he replied:
“Qh;—you heard that, did you?”
“J could not avoid it. I was just
coming to speak to you, and stood,
waiting, behind you—but without any
intention of overhearing your conver-
sation with Mrs. Beverly. But now it
iz my duty to ask you what you meant
by that reference to Crewe. He is
rather a shady character, you
doubtless know.”
Mr.
as
|
“Oh, yes, I know!” the artist re- '
plied with another of his slow smiles.
“Will you answer my question, Mr.
Moreaux?”
“I very much doubt if I couid, even
if I tried.”
The lieutenant was silent for a mo-
ment. Then he said with pointed
directness:
“Mr. Mortaux, I am going to put it |
to you straight.”
“That is surely the best way to do,
lieutenant.” They had drawn aside,
away from others, and stood in the
embrasure of one of the windows. “I
suppose the two agency men are on
the job in your absence?”
“Yes; and an officer of the Croydon
Safe Deposit Company is superintend-
ing the packing of the presents. He
is also taking a careful inventory of
them. That part of the job is off my
hands now.”
“Good. Now, what is if that you
were going to put to me straight?”
“This: Mr. Richard Delorme made
application to the department for a
man to be detailed here tonight. I am
that detail. The responsibility of what
has occurred rests upon me.
“I have been called a capable offi-
! cer, and yet those things were takem
not even a pretended duplicate, but @
under my very nose, and I was none
the wiser. How it was dgne I have
not the least idea; but if young Bev-
1 erly spoke the truth, or knew what he
was talking about, I have a pretty '
clear idea as to when the thefts oc-
curred—or at least one of them—that
of the lavallier. But never mind that
just now.
“The point is this. I am respomsi-
ble to the department for it. I will
be called to account for it, and I will
be made to suffer for it unless those
missing articles are found, and specd-
ily.
“"“In a sense, T am in authority fn
this house at the present moment. I
want you to look at my position fair-
1y. I heard you say to the bride—I
quote your exact words — ‘I bave a
fancy that one of Crewe’s acquaintan-
ces was here tonight. ’ 1 want you io
tell clly what you mean by
that statement. I ‘think I have the
right to know.” hie)
“You have, lieutenant. This fis
what I meant: I am acquainted with
Crewe. I have visited his place in
South Fifth avenue. Being an artist,
I have a good memory for faces.
“Two or three days ago, in the low-
er part of the city—to be exact, in the
Bowery, near Houston street—I saw
a face which I remembered to have
seen at Crewe’s upon the occasion of
my visit there. Another man was in
conversation with him — and that
other man was here tonight.”
“Who was he? Tell me that.”
“Oh, no, lieutenant; I won't tell
you that.”
“Why not?”
“well, for one thing I might be
doing him a great wrong in doing se.
You see, he might merely have been
asking a direction of the men I saw
at Crewe’s. They were together only
a short time, for I stopped and watch-
ed them—from a mere sense of curl-
osity, I assure you. You know 1 wan-
der through all parts of the city, seek-
ing ‘types,’ as we artists call them.”
“But — great Heavens, man, dont
you see what I am up against?”
“Naturally; and I am going to do
my utmost to help you push it over.”
“Don’t you see that I'm going to
catch hell when the inspector finds
out what has happened here toright?”
“No. What I do see is thig: I am
quite sure that Mr. Delorme vould
greatly prefer that nothing should be
said about this—publicly, 1 mean. He
is a man of power and influence.
“I am sure that he will not blame
= for what has occurred. 1 will ask
to say as much to the inspector,
and to request, at the same time, that
you be assigned to the case of find-
ing the lost jewels.”
The lieutenant threw out
hands in a gesture of despair.
“A lot of good that will do,” he
sald. Then: “At least, yon can tell
me who the man was whom yo had
seen at Crewe’s.”
“I can’t tell you his name. He is &
tall, dark, Mephistophelian - looking
person. I was told that by vocation
he is a sleight-of-hand performer in
vaudeville theaters, and a very clever
one; that by vocation he is a thief.
And that is all I can tell you about
him. Perhaps you know him.”
“No, I dont; but, by jingo, I'll find
him, whether I am sent back to the
pavements or not, and you can put
that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr.
Moreaux. And when I do find him
ll make him give up the name of
that other party.”
“If he happens to know what it is
—which I very much doubt.”
“Anyhow, I'll see Crewe before I
go to bed this night.”
Po. That is a good | ides. Kaobee
0
both
-
|
|
|
me. ¥ see Mr. Delorme beckoning to
me, I think that Mr. Delorme will
want us both in consultation with him
before we say good night.”
The evening was young yet.
The ceremony had been performed
at five; the supper was at eight. The
bride and groom had just gone to
their special train and private car,
and it was not yet half past ten.
The guests were thinning out rap-
idly. In another half-hour there would
be none but servants and the mas-
ter left in the great house. It had
had no mistress, alas! since Lorna
was very young; she had only a faint
recollection of her mother, and =zup-
posed her to be dead.
The son, Paul, was a globe trot-
ter—never at home—and he was the
product of a former wife of the steel
baron.
“Come into the ‘den’ with me,
Birge,” the elder man said, “I have
got Mills’s inventory—the safe de-
posit company’s man, you know.”
Then, inside the small room where
Moreaux had been once before that
e\ ening, he continued: “Have you any
idea how manu articles are missing?”
‘Five—possibly six — although I
think that Lorna may not have left
that in the ‘exhibit’; one calls it hy
no other name. The five articles are
the diamond lavalliere which was one
of Jerry’s presents; the diamond and
emerald bracelet that Paul sent to her
from Paris; the tiara of rubies and
diamonds that my sister Eunice gave
her; a bandeau -of pearls, almost
priceless in value, the gift of one of
my business associates, and—I hesi-
tate to tell you about it, Birge.”
“I know already, Mr. Delorme.
The small bauble that I donated.”
“Bauble, indeed; The wire - gold
bracelet with the single but wonder-
ful ruby that was given to you by
some India raja when you were a
youngster, and which you prized so
highly.
“I recall very well indeed that day
at your studio, nearly ten years ago,
when Lorna, when only a child, went
into raptures over it, and you told
her that when she grew up and was
married you would make her a wed-
ding present of it. Why, she wore it
when you made the portrait of her.
You painted it on her wrist in the
picture.”
“So I did, to be sure. What is that
sixth article that may be missing, Mr.
Delorme?
“A present that I made to her
mother before we were married, and
which she left behind when she went
away. A cameo brooch of exquisite
workmanship which once belonged to
my mother.”
The artist nodded understandingly.
He knew that any subject which re-
lated to Lorna’s mother was painful
to Richard Delorme.
“What shall I do about it, Birge?”
the older man asked anxiously. “You
must advise me. I much prefer to
keep the ‘incident out of the news-
‘pspers—it that is possible.”
“hen ‘I should advise that you
accompany Lieutenant Muchmore .to
police headquarters now. Be with
him when he makes his report to his
superior. Exonerate him as far as
possible. Show your belief in him by
requesting that he be assigned to the
case of running down the thief.
“Give as your reason for that res-
quest the fact that you do wish to
avoid publicity. You have power and
influence. You will find that the in-
spector will respect your wishes. And
show your confidence in Muchmore
himself by making him a substantial
present before you leave the house to-
gether.”
“But—you will go with me, won't
you?”
“No. Unfortunately I cannot. I
have another engagement still to-
night.”
There was an odd little smile about
the corners of Birge Moreaux’s mouth
when a moment later he left the small
room and found Muchmore impa-
tiently awaiting him.
“Mr. Delorme wants to see you,
lieutenant,” he said. “He is going to
l.eadquarters with you. Don’t stop to
talk with me. Go right in and find out
what the old gentleman has to say to
you.”
Moreaux drove directly to the tall
building in Blank street where he had
his studio.
Oddly enough, less than half an
hour after he arrived there the man
ealled Creye — he of the blemished
face and unsavory Teputation—left
the same building by the rear door,
for the building runs through from
street to street.
As he stepped outside and turned
to lock the door after him a limousine
car drove rapidly through the street
@irectly behind him.
He did not turn his head to look
toward it. Had he done so he would
have recognized the car as one of
Richard Delorme’s — and he would
Rave seen the face of Lieutenant
Muchmore peering out at him from
the window in the limousine door.
(To be Continued.)
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lt
MADE HIS HOST LAUGH]
|
GUEST'S REMARK REALLY HAD
He Intended to Make a Very Politey
Sincere Compliment, but Used a
Somewhat Vulgar Syno-
nym for Food.
“It was in Chillicothe, O., that I had
my first glimpse into American hiss
tory. The ‘hard times’ did not prevent
me from buying ‘A Brief History of the
United Staces,” the contents.of whic
1 virtually devoured. My instructors
were my fellow guests at a comfort.
able boarding house.
“I would retire to my room, ponder
the annals of this modern ‘chosen peo
ple’ until I reached a passage whose
words proved too big for my mind tg -
erasp (which was often the case),
when I would go out and demand!
light on the subject from the first]
guest I happened to meet. A physis
cian’s wife and the genial, gray-haired|
proprietor of the boarding house man
ifested deep interest in me and were
ready to aid my strenuous endeavor
to become ‘an enlightened American)
citizen.’
“The proprietor, who, I believe, had!
fought in the Civil war, would relate
to me events of that great conflict in,
such a droll manner that my study
of history under his supervision was a
supreme delight.
“But the genial proprietor enlight-
ened me on other subjects than that of
the Civil war. He gave me my firs¢
real lesson in English on table mane
ners. One day he asked me, ‘How do
you like our grub? :
“ ‘What is your grub, sir? I asked.
“With a mischievous smile that
scarcely agitated his weeping-willow,
mustache and thick beard, he said:'
‘It i8 the things we eat, you know. And
—and—it is a part of good manners
to show—in—in—some way that we
like the grub, just to please our host.”
“That was to me a most welcome Db
of information. I had been greatly a!
a loss to know how to express in th
English language my appreciation o
a good dinner. Certainly now I hadi
no longer an excuse to omit such a po-
lite formality.
“It was only a short time thereaft-
er that I happened to dine with
minister whose gracious wife served
for the occasion a bounteous and el
gantly appointed dinner. I could hard
ly wait for the proper moment to ex-
press my great appreciation of th
repast. When the moment came I
turned to my hostess with cheerful
dignity and said, ‘Mrs. F., I have great
1y enjoyed your grub.” But when her
husband laughed so that he nearly
fell from his chair I suspected So
. my” instruction in table manners ai
Chillicothe was somewhat defective.
| —Abraham Rihbany in Hig Autobie
ography.
~
In discussing the use of vaccine
made from pollens in the treatment
hay fever, Dr. Henri Iskowitz of ii
York writes in the Medical Record
that there are about thirty pon of
Real Cure, Perhaps, for Hay Cr
plants in this climate the pollen 0
any one of which may act as the @
citing cause in hay fever. From th
latter part of May to the middle o
July the air is heavily charged with,
the pollens of the grasses and culti
vated cereals. From the middle of Ai
gust the plants responsible are chi
ly goldenrod, ragweed and Ind
corn.
The serum used for immunizing pe
gons is prepared from the pollen of
some twenty flowers. This is injected
between the shoulders, 15 doses bein
given at intervals of three to fig
days. The treatment should be
about eight weeks before the h
fever season. Some patients c
their immunity over to a second se:
son, others do not. Patients must b
treated for several successive years if
the immunity is to be permanent.
Paper Money Popular.
The issue of the one-pound and tems
shilling notes in England is admi
to be a bold experiment, but it has
proved so successful that every effort
is being made to increase their circus
lation. The improvements made O!
the second series of notes lessen th
danger of forgery and still other im-
provements may be made.
The notes are convertible into gold)
on demand, for which the treasury of!
Great Britain has hoarded up a gold|
reserve for the notes, so that in time
the paper issue, instead of raising|
prices by inflating the volume of]
money in circulation, will represent
one kind of money instead of anoth-
er. !
Practical financiers want the note.
to remain in circulation to displace
gold, so as to build up the central re-
serve of metal and prevent the usual!
waste by handling in circulation. ?
The Silver Lining.
War does not make all men bleod
thirsty. On the banks of the Yser
Belgium where there has been suc
flerce fighting, the ambulance men on
day found a young German ba
wounded; and in the midst of
bursting shells they stopped to scri
ble a line describing what they h
seen and heard, and pinned it on
blanket that enveloped him. |
When ‘he reached the improvis
hospital, the nurses read the blo
stained sheet of packing paper,
one or two brushed away tears
they did so. It bore these words: “H
saved the lives of seven British ®ol«
diers.” It is good to know that, tens
derly cared for by an English doctor
he eventually recovered. — Youth'd
Companion. 4
a > :
m —T RT
a