THE MEYERSDALE COMMERCIAL, MEYERSDALE, PA.
ye
=
Love
Insurance
By
DERR BIGGERS | |
Author of
SEVEN KEVS TO BALDPATE
EARL
Copyright, 1914, the Bobbs=Merrill
Company
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Sea a 3 é |
this Manhattan club. May I count on |
you?’ |
|
{
|
“Surely,” Minot smiled. “I'll be |
there wearing our necklace.”
“My dear fellow—ah, I see you mean |
\ Wear it by all means.”
x pleasant ly.
from - the eccentric |
Minot passed
blooms cof that dressing gown to the
hentie flowers of the Florida
more aut
outdoors. «lil the piaza he met Cynthia ¢
Meyrick, rival candidate to the morn-
tng ini ory. .
tagat * she said, “‘is more trou-
ble than it seems on a moonlit night
under the ‘palms. I've never been sO
busy in my life. By the way, two
of my bridesmaids arrived. from New
York last night. Lovely girls, both of
them. But I forget!” .
“Forget what?”
“your young heart Is already en-
snared, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” replied Minot fervently, “it
4s. - But no matter. Tell me about
your preparations for the wedding. I
should like to enjoy the thrill of it by
proxy.”
“How like a man—wants all the
ghrill and none Of the bother. It's
dreadfully hard staging a wedding
way down here a thousand miles from
everything, But my gown came last
aight from Paris. Can you imagine
the thrill of that?”
“Only faintly.” a :
«How stupid being a mdn must be.”
«And how glorious being a girl, with |
man only an afterthought even at wed-
ding time” :
«poor Harrowby! He keeps in the
“gmelight fairly well, however,” They
sralked along a moment in: silence.
#I've wondered,” she said at length.
SWhy did you kidnap—Mr. Trimmer’s
=friend 2”
“Because”—
‘Yes?’ eagerly.
! ed a disapproving eye upon the lank
Englishman at his side as he made |
this query.
| 'vas at the moment a jelly quaking
' as*though you were walking into Rake- |
| lavolding as much as possible the
Moved by an inspiration, Minot sug-
gested to the detective that possibly
the jewels were not genuine. Much te
Lord Harrowby's surprise, apparently,
the detective declared that the jewels
were “fine old bottle glass.”
“I know the governor has been finan-
cially embarrassed,” Harrowby ex-
plained to Cynthia, “but I never Sus-
pected him of this.”
Spencer Meyrick and Cynthia reluc-
tantly agreed to let the wedding occur
as scheduled. Immediately thereafter
Mr. Trimmer announced that he bad
! found the kidnaped George and brought
him back with him. He demanded
that Lord Harrowby see George.
* + * * * * *
“What's the matter with you?” |
Seated in the lobby of the De la Pax |
on Sunday morning, Mr. Trimmer turn-
And his question was not |
without good foundation, for the as-
pirant to the title of Lord Harrowby |
with fear,
“Patmney meeting you after all these
ears,” said poor old George in an un-
certain treble.
“Come, yma!” eried "Mr. Trimmer.
“Put a little noe auihovity into your
volce You cant : up and claim
{your righios. with - knees dancing |
the tango. La the moment we've |
been lookiiz lforwarl lo. Act deter- i
mined. valk into that room upstairs ;
1-4
dale hall to take charce of it.”
“Allan, don’t you know me? I'm
your brother George,” went on the
Englishman, intent on rehearsing.
“More. like it,” said Trimmer. “Put
the fire into it. You're not expecting a
thrashing, you know. You're expecting
the title and recognition that belong
to you. I wish I was the real Lord
Harrowby.
thing or two.”
“I wish you was,” agreed poor old
George sadly. “Somehow I don’t seem
to have the spirit I used to have.”
In Lord Harrowby’s suit that gentle-
man sat in considerable nervousness,
awaiting the undesired encounter.
With him sat Miss Meyrick and her
father, whom he had thought it neces-
sary to‘invite to witness the ordeal.
Richard Minot uneasily paced the floor,
glances of Miss Meyrick’s brown ‘eyes.
Ten o'clock was upon him, and Mr.
Minot was no nearer a plan of action
than he had been the preceding night.
Every good press agent is not with-
out a live theatrical ‘sense, and Mr.
mrimmer was ‘no exception. He left
his trémbling claimant In the entrance
hall‘and strode into the room.
1 guess I'd show ‘em: a:
I'd got a good look at you sooner. I'd
have put a stop to all this. Allan Har-
rowby, eh? I guess not. I guess I'd
know my own brother if I saw him.
I guess I know the Harrowby features.
I give you twenty-four hours to get
out of town, you blooming fraud!”
“The man’s crazy,” Allan Harrowby
cried. “Raving mad. He's an im-
postor. This is a trick of his.” He
looked helplessly around the circle. In
every face he saw doubt, questioning.
“Good heavens, you're not going to lis-
ten to him? Ile's coiae leie to prove
that he’s George Harrowby. Why
doesn’t he do it?”
“I'n’ do it,” said George sweetly,
“when I meet a real Harrowby. In the
meantime I give you twenty-four hours
to get out of town. You'd better go.”
Victorious, George turned toward the
door. Trimmer, lost between admira-
tion and doubt, turned also.
“Take my advice,” George proclaim-
ed. “Make him prove who he is. That
is the important point now. What
does it matter to you who I am?
Nothing. But it matters a lot about
him. Make him prove that he’s Allan
Harrowby.”
And with the imperious manner that |
he should have adopted on entering the |
i
{
~%Godd ‘'morning,” ‘he said brightly.
“Here we are, on time to the minute.
Ah! I beg your pardon!”
“Minot looked at her; and something
#086 in his throat to’'choke him. i
= 4 can’t tell you,” ha: said. is is se
! mult ofthe master of the show.
gmly the pawn, the baffled, raging, un-
Dappy little pawn. That's all I can tell
you. You—you were speaking of your
wedding gown?” ;
/®A present from Aunt Mary,” she
ered, a strange tenderness in her
ar “For a good little girl who's
eaught a lord.”
“A charming little girl,” said Minot
softly. “May I say that?”
“yes” her brown eyes glowed—“I'm
ad--to have yem—say it. I go In
ere. Goodby--Mr. Kidnaper.”
© CT 7 CHAPTERYXIN © 77
Who's Who In England.
3 remainder of the day passed
lazily. Dick Minot felt lost
indeed, for seemingly there
were no more doughty deeds
lo be done in the name of Jephson.
The Gaiety lady was gone; her letters
were in the hands of the man who had
written them. The claimant to the ti-
languished among the alligators of
rragona, a prisoner. Trimmer ap-
seared to be baffled. Bri'csmaids ar-
ved. The wedding gown appeared.
t looked like smooth sailing now.
Jack Paddock, met for a moment late
$i thé afternoon,” anounced airily:
“By the way, the Duke and Duchess
'.@¢ Lismore have 'come. You know—
the sausage lady and her captive. My
ord, you should see her! A wardrobe
draw tears of envy from a theatrical
r. Fifty costly necklaces—and only
e neck!”
“Tragic,” smiled Minot.
«Funny thing has happened,” Pad-
k- whispered. “I met the duchess
ce abroad. She sent for me this
n and almost bowled me over. |
ms she’s heard of Mrs, Bruce as
e wittlest woman in San Marco, and
e's jealous. ‘You're a clever boy,’
ys her ladyship to me. ‘Coach me
@p so I can outshine Mrs, Bruce.'”
“Good heavens, Jack! You wouldn't
gry to sell ‘em both dialogue n
“Why not? Play one against the
er. Make ‘em keener for my goods.
e got a notlon to clean up here
quick and then go back to the real
stuff. That little girl from the middle
west—I've forgot all about her, of
sourse. But, speaking of cleaning up,
Fo thinking of it, Dick, my boy. Yes,
believe I'll take them both on—se-
tly, of course. It means hard work
for me, but when one loves one’s art
service seems too tough.”
“you're hopeless,” Minot groaned.
#Say not =o,” laughed Paddock and
went away humming frivolous tune.
The twenty-four h s that followed
were hours of anxiety for Minot.
Lord Harrowby having lost money at
the gaming table borrowed Chain
Lightning’s collar from Minot. and
tried in vain tc
Tom Stacy Bill Huntley, a custom
house detective fro New York, found
the necklace in Harrowby’s pocket and
arrested him bes 1 duty on the
pecklace had not 1 i Spencer
Meyrick, In a 1 nght Hari by.
“I've mat over ith Cyn
get a loan on it from
Lord Harrowby performed brief in-
troductions, which Mr. Trimmer effu-
sively acknowledged.. Then he turned
dramatically toward his lordship.
«Out here in the ‘hallway stands a
poor, “broken creature,” he began.
“Your own fiésh and blood, Allan Har-
rowby.” Obviously Mr. Trimmer had
{prepared speeches for himself as well
as for poor old George. “For twenty
odd and. impecunioys years,” he went
on, “this man hss been denfed his
just heritage. We are here this morn-.
ing to perform a duty”— :
{| “My dear fellow,” broke in Harrow-
by wearily, “why should you inflict
‘oratory pon us? Brig in this—er—
gentleman.” : 1%
“That IT will,” replied Trimmer heartl:
ly. “And when you have heard his
story, digested his evidence, - I am
sure'’'— ‘
“Yes, yes.
Bring him in.”
He becuvied.
shu “ed iil.
with {725807 Th line rattled togeth-
oF. He made alto-other a ludicrous
picture. and Mr Trimmer himself not-
ed this with sinking heart.
i. “Allow me,” said Trimmer theatrical
ly. “Gecrge, Lord Harrowby!”
George cleared his throat, but aid
not succeed in dislodging his heart,
which was there at the moment.
A ver, re.uctant figure
cps { wag g.een
years,” he mumbled weakly to no one
in particular.
“Speak up!” sald Spencer Meyrick
sharply. .
“Who is it you're talking to?"
“To him,” explained George, nodding
toward Lord Harrowby. “To my
| brother Allan. Don’t you know me,
Allan? Don’t you know"—
He stopped. An expression of sur-
prise and relief swept over his worried
face. He turned triumphantly to Trim-
mer. :
“] don’t have to prove who I am to
him,” he announced.
“Why don’t you?” demanded Trim-
mer in alarm.
“Because he can’t, I fancy,” put in
Lord Harrowby.
“No,” said George slowly, “because
1 never saw him before in all my
life.”
“Ah, you admit it!” cried Allan Har-
rowby with relief.
“Of course I do,” replied George.
never saw you before in my life.”
“And you've never been at Rake-
dale Hall, have you?’ Lord Harrow-
by demanded.
“I
|
“Here—wait a minute!” shouted
Trimmer, in a panic.
«Oh, yes, I've been at Rakedale
Hall" sail tte claimant firmly. “1
speit my boyhood there. But you've
never been there.”
“]—what’—
“You've never been at’ Rakedale
Hall. VoLy? Because you're not Al-
lan Harrowby! That's why.”
A deathly silence fell. Only a little
traveling clock on the mantel was ar-
ticulate.
Absurd, ridicul ” cried Lord Har-
h anid and
Als Spl al
1d his cour
back, ‘you're one
yourself!
Mr. Trimmer stepped to the door. |
‘“Fawncy seeing you after all these |
“Talk about impostors,” cried George.
‘room “George Harrowby «left it.s
Trimmer, eclipsed for once, trotted at
his side, . Spies
“Say,” cried Trimmer
that on the level? Isn’t he Allan Ha:
Sig
in the hall, is
“I should say not,” said George
grandly. “Doesn't look anything like
n.” an RE RRT
Trimmer chortled in glee. «
w“@reat stuff!” he cried. “I guess We |
tossed a bomb, eh? Now" we'll Tun
him out of town.” 7 Tt @ =
“Qh, no,” said George. “We've done
our work here, Let's go over to Lon:
‘don now and seé the'pater.”
toh
' you today, Lord Harrowby!” |
Inside Allan Harrowby’s suit three
pairs of questioning eyes were turned >
| on that harassed nobleman. He fidget-
-! gd in bis chair. gr» tl weld
‘#1. gay,” he pleaded,. it's ait: his
. saw. her face peering out as some
bluff, you know."
“Maybe,” said old Spencer Meyrick,
| Msing. “But, Harrowby, or whatever
your name is; there's. altogether too
| much three ring circus about this wed-
ding to suit me. My patience 18 ex-
hausted, sir, clean exhausted. Things
| look queer’ to me—have right aleng.
I'm more than inclined to believe what
that fellow. said.” .
«But, my dear sir, that chap is a rank
gmpostor. There wasn't a word of
|
|
|
i
understand”—
“Why, yes, I suppose so,” the girl
replied.”
firen't you?”
“My dear girl, of course I am.”
“Nevertheless,” said Spencer Mey-
rick, with decision, “I'm going to call
the wedding off again. Some of your
actions haven't made much of a hit
with me. I'm going to call it off until
you come to me and prove that you're
Allan Harrowby, a lord in good and
regular standing, with all dues paid.”
“But—confound it, sir—a gentleman’s
word’ —
“Mr. Meyrick,” put in Minot, “may I
be allowed to say that I consider your
action hasty’—
“And may I be allowed to ask what
affair this is of yours?’ demanded Mr.
Meyrick hotly.
“Father,” cried Miss Meyrick, “please
do not be harsh with Mr. Minot. His
heart is absolutely set on my marriage
with Lord Harrowby. Naturally he
feels very badly over all this.”
Minot winced.
“Come, Cynthia,” said Meyrick, mov-
ing toward the door. “I've had enough
! of this play acting. Remember, sir, |
the wedding is oiff—absolutely off—un-
til you are able to establish your iden
tity bevond questior !
And le and his danghter went out.
Minot sat for a long time staring at
arrowby. Fi vy he spoke.
Lord Hi :
i . Harrowby,” he inquired, “who
devil are you?’
His lordship sadly
his head.
he sighe
I'm
shook
|
rowby?” ,
“That we will” cried Trimmer—
. "that we will! By gad, I'm proud.of
truth in what he said. Cynthia, you |
“You are Allan Harrowby, !
you're Harrowby, how are you going to
prove it?”
“I've an idea,” Harrowby replied.
“Everything comes to him who waits.
What is it?”
“A very good friend of mine—an old
Oxford friend—is attached to our em-
bassy at Washington. He was plan-
@ Bueclo n i
“Remember, sir, the wedding is off—
_ absolutely off.”
ning to come down for the wedding.
“I'll telegraph him to board the next
| tratn®
“Good boy!” said Minot. “That's a
regular idea, Better send the wire at
once.” =
Harrowby promised, and they parted.
_ Shortly after 6 o'clock a delayed tel-
| egram was delivered to Mr. Minot. It
| was from Mr. Thacker, and it read:
«Have located the owner of the yacht
.“Lileth (its real name the Lady Evelyn),
: gtolen from owner in North river.
. is on his way south. Will look you up
He
on arrival.”
Minot whistled. Here was a new
twist for the drama to take.
At about‘ the same ‘time Minot re-
cefved “hi§' message a similar’ slip of
yellow paper was put into the hands of
Lord Harrowby. Three times he read
| it, his eyes staring, his cheeks flushed.
| ‘Then he fled to his rooms. The eleva-
|
tor was not quick ‘enough; he sped up
the stairs. ‘Once in his suit, he dragged
out the fearest traveling bag and be- .
: gan to pack like a'mddman,
‘Mr. Minot finishing a leisurely |
| and lonely dinner about an hour later .
| when Jack Paddock ran up to his table. | just at present.”
Mr. Paddock's usual calm was sadly |
ruffled.
“Dick,” he cried, “Here's mews for
|, you. T ‘met Lord Harrowby sliding out
#& side door with a stit’case just now.”
“Minot leaped to his feet.
i #Whet does that mean?’ he Wwon-
-dered aloud. -
i .“)ean?’ answered Mr. Paddock. “It
means just one thing: Old George had
“the right ‘dope: Harrewby is a fake.
He's making his getaway.”
© © “ CHAPTER XIV.
_. The Shortest Way Home.
2) INOT stood amid the colorful
blooms of the hotel courtyard
“and devked up at her window,
with its white curtain waving
He called softly. And then he
gently.
senorita of the old days from her lat-
ce.
“I've mews—very important news,”
he said. “May I see you a‘ moment?”
She came, dressed in the white that
get off ‘so well her hair of gleaming
-copper. - Minot met her on the veranda.
She smiled into his eyes inquiringly.
| “Do you mind—a little walk?” he
: wsked.
“Where to?” :
| “Say‘to the fort—the longest way.”
| She glanced back toward the hotel.
| “I'm not sure that I ought”—
“Rit that will only make it the more
| exciting. Please! And I'vé news—
| real news.” . .
The gray fort loomed in the moon-
| light like a historical novelist's dream.
Its huge ironbound ‘doors were locked
for the night; its custodian home in the
| posom of his family. Only its lower
| ramparts were left for the feet of ro-
mantic youth to tread.
Along ‘these ramparts, close to the
shimmering sed, Miss Meyrick and
‘Minot walked. Truth to tell, it was
not so very difficult to keep one’s foot-
ing—but once the girl was forced to
hold out an appealing hand.
“French heels are treacherous,” she
explained.
Minot took her hand, and for the
first time knew the thrill that, en-
| countered often on the printed page,
i
i
he had mentally classed as “rubbish!”
Wisely she interrupted it:
“You said you had news?”
{ He had, but it was not so easy to
impart as he had expected.
“Pell me,” he said, “if it should turn
out that what poor old George said
| this morning was a fact—that Allan
Harrovwby was an imposter — would
vou feel 50 very badly?”
She withdrew her hand.
“You have no right to ask that,” she i
replied.
“Forgive me. Indeed I haven't.
I was moved to ask it for the reason
that—what George said was evidently
true. Allan Harrowby left suddenly
for the north an hour ago.”
The girl stood still, looking with |
wide eyes out over the sea i
“Tx north,” she repeated.
There was a long silence. At length
. she turned to Minot, a queer light in
ber eyes. “Of course you'll go after
return to the hotel?”
But |
him and bring him back,” she asked. |
“No.” Minot bowed his head. “I
know I must have looked rather silly |
of late. But if you think I did the
things I've done because 1 chose to—
you're wrong. If you think I did them
because 1 didn’t love you— you're
wrong too. Oh, I"—
“Mr. Minot!”
The water breaking on the ancient
stones below seemed to be repeating
«Sh—sh,” but Minot paid no heed to
the warning. .
“I've cared for you,” he went on,
“aver since that morning on the train
when we raced the razorbacks—ever
since that wonderful ride over a God
forsaken road that looked like heaven
to me. And every time since that I've
seen you I've known that I'd come to
care more’—
“Weren't you overly chivalrous to a
rival? Wouldn't what—what you are
saying be more convincing if you had
remained neutral?”
«I know. I can’t explain it to you
now. It's all over, anyway. It was
horrible while it lasted, but it's over
now. I'm never going to work again
for your marriage to anybody—except
one man. The man who is standing
before you, who loves you—loves you’—
“Tf ve were back on the train,” she
said. “and all that followed could be
differeni—and Harrowby had never
been—I1 might’— 4
“You might—yes??
“I might not say what I'm going to
say now, which is—hadn’'t we better
“I'm gorry,” remarked Minot. “Sorry
I had the bad taste to say what I have
at this time—but if you knew and
cc1ld understand—which you can't of
cc irse— Yes, let's go back to the hotel
—: he shortest way.”
«Considering what you have told me
of —Harrowby,” she said, “I shall be
leaving for the north soon. Will you
look me up in New York?” ’
“Thank you,” Minot said. “It will
be a very great privilege.”
Cynthia Meyrick entered the eleva-
tor, and out of sight in that gilded cage
she smiled a twisted little smile.
Mr. Minot beheld Mr, Trimmer and
his “proposition” basking in the lime-
Hight of the De la Pax, and, feeling in
no mood to listen to the publicity man’s
triumphant cackle, he hurried to the
veranda. There he found a bellboy
calling his name.
“Gen’lemun to see you,” the boy ex-
plained. He led the way back into the
lobby and up to a tall athletic looking
man with a ruddy, frank, attractive
face. t : 2 §
The stranger held out his hand.
“Mr, Minot?’ he asked. “How do
you do, sir? I'm very glad to know
you. Promised Thacker I'd Fook you
up at once. Let's adjourn to the grill
room. I'm the owner of the yacht in
the ‘harbor, which somebody has re-
christened the Lileth.” '
“Yes—I thought so,” Minot rep
“I’m mighty glad you've come. A Mr.
Martin Wall is posing as the owner
+ “86'1 learned from ‘Thacker.
1ad, this Wall. I live in Chicago my-
gelf—ieft my boat—Lady Evelyn, I
called her~—in.the North river for the
winter in charge of a caretaker. This
Wall, it seems, needed a boat for a
month and took a fancy to mine.”
The stranger leaned across the table.
“In the meantime.” he said, “I happer
to be interested in another matter
What's all this talk ahout George Har-
rowby coming back to life?”
“Well, there's a chap here,’ Minot
explained, “who claims to be the elder
brother of Allan Harrowby. His cause
is in the hands of an advertising ex-
pert named Trimmer.” :
“Yes. 1 saw a story in a Washing-
ton paper.” : '
“This morning George Harrowby, so
called, confronted Allan Harrowby and
- denounced Allan himself as a fraud.”
The man from Chicago threw back
his head, and a roar of unexpected
laughter smote on Minot’s hearing.
“Good joke,” said the stranger.
“No joke at all. George was right—
at least, so it seems: Allan Harrowby
cleared out this evening.”
“Yes. So 1 was told by the clerk in
there. Do you happen to know—er—
Allan?”
“Yes. Very well indeed.”
“But you don’t know the reason he
left?” :
“Why,” answered Minét, “I suppose
hecanse George Harrowby gave him
‘
xo 4 ga
3
“Udrmipur
Nervy |
what can't have been the reason,”
he said. “I happen to know.”
«Just how,” inquired Minot, “do you
happen to know?”
«1 fancy 1 neglected to introduce my-
self,” he said. “I make automobiles in
Chicago, and my name's George Har-
rowby.” :
«you—you”’— Minot’s head went
round dizzily. “Ob, no,” he said firmly.
«I don’t believe it.”
The other's smile grew even broader.
«Don’t blame you a bit, my boy,” he
said. “Must have been a bit of a mix-
up down here. Then, too, I don’t look
like an Englishman. Don’t want to.
I'm an American now, and I like it.”
«you mean you're the real Lord Har-
rowby?”’
«That's what I mean—take it slowly,
Mr. Minot. I'm George, and if Allan
ever gets his eyes on me I won't have
to prove who I am. He'll know, the
kid will. - Dut, -by the way, what I
want now is to meet this chap who
claims to be me—also his friend, Mr.
Trimmer.
“Of course you do. I saw them out
in the lobby a minute ago.” Minot rose.
“111 bring them in. But—but’—
“yohat is it?
wer mind. 1 believe you.” |
Frilaiaer nd his proposition still
adorned the lobby, puffed with pride
and pompousness. Briefly Minot ex-
plained that a gentleman in the grill
room dosired to be introduced, and
~raciously the two followed after. The
Chicago George Harrowby rose as he
saw the group approach his table. Sud-
dernly behind him Minot heard a voice:
“My God!” And the limp English-
man of the sandwich boards made a
long, lean streak toward the door.
Minot leaped after him and dragged
him back. i
“Here, Trimmer,” he sald, “your
proposition has chilblains.”
«What's the trouble?’ Mr. Trimmer
glared about him. :
“Allow me,’ said Minot. “Sir—our
leading vaudeville actor and his man-
ager. Gentlemen —Mr. George Harrow-
by of Chicago!” ; k 3
«git down, boys,’ said Mr. Harrowby
genially: He indicated a chair to Mr.
Trimmer, but that gentleman stood, his
eyes frozen to the face of his proposi-
tion. The Chicago man :turned to.-that
same proposition. ‘Brace up; Jenkins,”
he said.’ “Nobody will hurt you.”
But Jenkins could not brace: He al-
lowed Minot to deposit his imp body
in acbadly oy ech ane
«I thought you was dead, sir,” he
mumbled. : SET Gx
“A common mistake,” smiled George
Harrowby. “My family has thought
the sane, ahd I've been too busy mak-
ing ‘automobiles’ to tell. them different
1y. ‘Mr. Trimmer, will you have a—
what's:the ‘matter, man?” . [1
For Mr. Trimmer; was standing, pur-
ple, over his proposition...
«I.want to get this straight,” he sald
with assumed calm. “See here, you
cringing cur—what does this mean?”
“I thought hé was dead.” murmured
poor Jenkins in terror. da%
i#You’ll think the same about yourself
in a minute=-and you'll be right.” Trim-
mer predicted.
“Come, come.” said George Harrow-
by pacifically. “Sit down, Mr. Trim-
mer. Sit down and have a drink. Do
you mean to say you didn’t know Jen-
kins here wag fallin"
“Of course } didu t.” said Triminer.
He sg; dawn x the e (reme edge of a
chair, as one who proposed to rise
soon. ‘*All this has got me going. I
| never went round in royal-eircles be-
i fore, and I'm di~zy. I suppose you're
the real Lord ITarrowby?”’
“To be quite correct, 1 am. Don’t
you believe it?” dig
“1 can believe anything—when I look
at Tim.” said Trimmer, indicating the
pitiable ex-claimant to the title. “Say,
who is this Jenkins we hear so much
about?”
“Jenkins was the son of my father’s
valet,’ George Harrowby explained.
‘He came to America with me. We
parted suddenly on a ranch in south-
ern Arizona.”
“Everybody said you was dead,” per-
sisted Jenkins, as one who could not
10se sight of that fact. = i!
r uYes? And they. gave you my letters
and ‘belongings, eh? So you thought
you'd pose as me?” ‘td
“Yes, sir,” confessed Jenkins humbly.
“Oh
CHAPTER XV.
i “A Rotten Bad Fit”
INOT rose early on Monday
morning and went for a walk
along the beach. He had awak-
ened to black despair, but the
sun and the matutinal breeze elevated
his spirits considerably. Where Was}
Allan Harrowby? Gone, with his wed-
ding little more than twenty-four hours
away. If he should not return—golden
thought. By his own act he would for:
feit his claim on Jephson, and Minot
would be free to—
To what? Before him in the morning
glow the great gray fort rose to crust
his hopes. There on those slanting
ramparts she had smiled at his declard
tion—smiled and labeled him foolish
Well, foolish he must have seemeQq
But there was still hope. If only Alla
Harrowby did not return.
The first man Minot saw when he r€
turned to the lobby of the De la P
was Allan Harrowby, his eyes tire
with travel, handing over a suit case §
ir
Sf \ S
§ Sl <
! 6 Disko SE
No
of thought he wa
poor Jenkins in terror.
twenty-four hours to get out of town.”
Again the Chicago man laughed.
s dead,” murmured
an eager bla®k boy.
{0 Sie Solon © Tistlessly Min
jirsiiny IE { hous He
| lowe 1 1 his arngs
= } > be anid dreard
{ “You Liven all vite q. turn 1
! night. We ther-ht vou'd taken
advice you got in ¢c morning §
| cleared out for goed.’
| “Well To «by replif
| “Come up x g
i man. I'll
(continued next week) . :
~ORildren Ov}
FOR FLETCHER'S
CASTORIA
———
If all
grain it
store it.
were .on
bined fo
tract on
the chic
chicken
mountai
would st
all the b
he could
the isla:
on the is
canal wi
all the c¢
she coul
the trop!
y the nor
would t
lakes to
boats la¢
If all th
mule he
on Mexi
Canada
moon.—]
States I
All tru
love, ani
Art has
A per
volves 11
of pelf a
There |
Stair an
ship, bei
cede. hin
riages, 1
The-.p
sides.
préot of
by: aban
cedence
A
e Er
compli
leave eitl
mall or
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: .
The fr
creeping
Your hat.
The fr
theater a
‘ The fr
Miss Wa
The fri
urday ar
end.
The fri
old times
your spal
The fri
him: and
wife.
The frie
middle of
rested. —I
A . Se
It is n
male ost
by ‘three.
different
process is
his young
other pro
combat w
retires, w
the othe
broods, w
“80. ! ye
school?”
golug to
‘No; I
husband
an emerg
Doctor-
to 100? 1
forty I re
your bill;
gown get:
Hulalia
think the
Rosa—Ser
time I me
sad.—Flie
.
Miss B.
a dance!
Frugal £:
I’ve broug
“Do you
der?”
“I'd rat
Baltimore
He—Let
just an bh
Billie, the
—Penn Fr
The tru
terminatic
y