HIS SECRET,
How a Bank Clerk Eventually
Became a Director.
By JOHN JONES.
(Copyright. 1310. by American Press Asso
ciation.]
The l»t of a younger son in England
is usually a hard one because the boys
nre brought up In affluence only to be
turned out with a pittance when they
come of age.
Clarence Meldron was one of these
younger sons, and at the nge of nine
teen a position on a high stool In the
Bank of England was obtained for
lilm. There has never been the chance
for a young man In England to rise as
in this country, and when Meldrou en
tered the bank to begin a life of drudg
ery he felt like one ou whom the doors
of a jail had closed. What especially
filled hltn with melancholy was that j
he loved the daughter of a baronet
whom her family considered sufficient- i
ly attractive to marry the firstborn
of a duke. And so she was. Lady
Emily Twiss was extremely pretty, ex- |
tremely kind, extremely - |
deed, she possessed every feature to
recommend her as a wife.
Young Meldron had been in the em- j
ploy of the bank two years with a i
few pounds a year increase in his sal- |
ary when he received a note from :
Lady Emily bidding him a sad fare
well. The Marquis of Stanforth had
proposed for her hand, and there was '
110 choice for her but to accept him. |
Os receipt of Lady Emily's note Mel
dron suffered that agony which only
a young lover knows who sees the
jgiti he worships pass to another man.
Before leaving the bank that after
noon Meldron was notified that he was
to deliver a box of papers from the
strong room of the bank the same even
ing to the house of one of the directors.
.At the appointed time the young clerk
went to the bank, got the box and
carried It as Instructed. He was told
to wait in the hail, which he did for
an hour or more while several of the
MELDRON QUESTIONED HIM.
directors were discussing a matter of '
finance in one of the apartments, j
Thou he was called into the room I
where they were convened.
"Go," said one of tlio gentlemen, "to i
the bank and in the strong room you
will find a number of chests in which
are also papers. Open the box marked
1872 and bring me the package mark
ed as indicated on this paper."
lie handed Meldron a slip and a
key. The young man took both, went ]
to the bank, was admitted and entered I
to the strong room. Having possessed
himself of what he had been sent for, j
he looked about him.
lie was in a room containing more '
treasure than any in the world. Great |
heaps of coin, bank bills and securl- |
ties were deposited there. With a j
lantern he carried he poked about in |
corners anil crannies. Suddenly he
felt himself sliding downward. He
struck a stone floor over which water
was trickling, but he knew this only
from the source of touch, for his Inn
tern had gone out.
He bethought himself of a silver
matchbox in his pocket, kept there
for lighting his pipe. He struck a
match and illuminated a sewer. lie
also lighted up the incline by which
he had entered It and saw that he
could go back the way he came. Ills
lantern was at his feet, and, picking it
up J lie relighted it. Then he climbed
back into the strong room.
Fortunately he had not caught much
filth on his clothes, for he had not lost
his balance in his descent of but a few
feet. He ascended the stairs, was let
out by the man in charge and went
straight to the house whore the di
rectors were conferring. There he was
rated soundly for having been so long
on his errand. He made no excuse
and w-as permitted to depart, his su
periors saying that they would not
need hlni longer.
A vision of a great change in his af
fairs loomed up In the young man's
mind. He possessed a secret that In
volved millions. If lie could leave the
strong room by means of the sewer
others could enter it in the same way.
While the officials were watching their
treasure above ground by the most
carefully devised system there was no
watch whatever at this opening where
the sewer had broken and left a free
entrance to thfl strong room.
No thought of using bl» knowledge
for the purpose of appropriating the
funds of the bank entered his head.
What he was thinking of was how he
might use the secret honestly to as
sist him to a career. He lay awake all
night thinking, but found no plan ex
cept to make some excuse togo Into
the strong room again and see ir he
could find his way out through the
sewer.
A few days later, Just before closing,
carrying a lantern with him, ho en
tered the strong room, thence the sew
er and began to walk slowly through
It. Presently he met a man who
seemed to be iooklug about him for
what he could pick up. Meldron ques-
tioned him and learned that he was
one of that strange class who gain a
living by searchlHg the sewers. lie
piloted the clerk to an opening where
egress was easy. Meldron marked the
spot so that he would know it again
One morning the bank's directors re
ceived a scrap of dirty paper on which
was written in the hand of an illiter
ate person the following:
You think you Is alt F.ife hand yon
bank his safe, but I knows better. 1 bin
hlnslde the bank the last 2 nlte hand you
nose nuffln about It. I3ut I am nott a
thoaf so hlf yer will mett me® In the
fiTeat squar room, with all the monelys,
at twelf 2 nlte, lie explain orl to you, let
only thor 2 cum down, and say nuffln to
nobody.
The directors turned the note over
to the police, gave orders that the
strong room should be guarded and
thought no more of the matter.
Nothing unusual happened in the
bank that night, and the next day the
note would have been forgotten had It
not been for a remarkable circum
stance. A chest of paper and securi
ties taken from the strong room was
received at the bank with another note
from their mysterious correspondent
complaining that the directors had set
the police upon the writer and that
he had not, therefore, kept his appoint
ment, but he had sent the chest of pa
pers he had taken from the strong
room. The note further said that if a
few of the directors should be in the
strong room at midnight he would join
them there.
Meanwhile Clarence Mcklron sat at
his desk in the lank, doing his duties
with his accustomed regularity. He
heard the note that he had sent the
directors discussed in a low tone by
two custodians and knew that a guard
was posted at the strong room. The j
only matter that occupied him out- i
side his duiies was a letter he wrote
to his sweetheart imploring her not to J
consent to a wedding with her fiancee J
until she could put it off no longer, j
adding that something might turn up (
for him. l?is sweetheart replied that
she would Jo what he wished.
Isut ou the arrival of the chest of
papers and securities from the strong
room Meldron saw evidence of com
motion. A search of the strong room
was made. Meldron had drawn a
heavy chest over the crack through
which he had fallen, and it was not
found. After the discussion the direct
ors decided to meet this man, spirit
or devil, in the strong room In ac
cordance with Ills appointment.
So that ulght secret police were call
ed into be ready to make any arrest
that might be required, and armed
guards of the bank were concealed be
hind treasure boxes In the strong
room. Just before midnight three di
rectors who were selected to meet the
man in the strong room assembled at
the bank and entered what was to be
the meeting room. All braced them
selves not to show fear. Nevertheless
ono of them was pale and the other
two trembling.
W T hen a deep toned bell without
struck twelve a voice called from what
point they could not tell:
"Put out the lights!"
After some deliberation this was
done, and after the party had stood a
few moments in darkness bright rays
from a dark lantern at the other end
of the room dazzled thorn. Then they
heard the cry:
"Eight up!"
The lights were turned on, and there
before them stood their clerk, Clarence
Meldron. He waited for them to
speak,
"Explain this!" said one of the di
rectors.
Meldron told them of his first visit
to the strong room, of his sliding into
tile sewer, of his subsequent trip in the
112 ewer and of his meeting there. Then
I, • took them to the opening.
They looked at one another in blank
amazement, thinking of the responsibil
ity they had incurred in the fact that
there was an entrance from the out
,s!de to their treasure room.
"But why have you taken this
strange method of informing us of this
opening?" asked a director.
"To impress upon you the fact that
your treasure was exposed. I could
have made myself ono of the richest
men in the world by secretly and
slowly taking away treasure that
might not have been missed In weeks,
perhaps mouths. If 1 had simply
called you in here and shown you this
crack you would have presented me
with £lO reward, and that would have
been the end of the matter. I deemed
it advisable that you should be made
: fully conscious that under your admin
: iglration you were exposing the funds
I of millions of people intrusted to your
1 care to be plundered by any dishonest
| person knowing the secret."
Not one of the directors but under
l stood that they had an honest young
man to deal with, but one who was
bright enough to take advantage of the
possession of his secret. Were the
story to be spread about London the
gravest consequences would accrue to
the bank and would be their ruin. Be
fore Clarence Meldron left them he
was notified that he would bo appoint
ed to an Important trust.
That was the beginning of one of
the largest fortunes In England. Mel
drm became a great financier and a
director of the bank. He married thn
Lady Emily Twlss.
Curious Optical Properties.
Asterlsm Is the beautiful name given
to a curious optical property of cer
tain minerals. They show a star
shaped figure where light is reflected
from them or transmitted through
tliem. This is seen in the star stone,
which is a sort of sapphire, and In
the star ruby. There Is asterlsm also
in mica. The photograph of a lamp
flame taken through a plate of mica
shows a six rayed star, with six faint
er radiations between. Outwardly
star mica resembles the ordinary form
and shows the same phenomena under
polarized light. When examined un
der the microscope, however, the star
mica is found to contain fine needles
of another mineral. And these are
regularly arranged at angles of 120
degrees. To these needles is due the
star seen by transmitted light.—Chica
go Tribune.
Pet Gander a Life Saver.
After acting ns "nurse" to the chil
dren of Ab-i >r Stilton ..f Montville, N.
J., for ten years Pete, a gander, be
came a martyr the other day. Agnes,
two years old, was in the way of an
auto, and while Pete pushed her out
ef harm's way the car killed him.
I GAD MEMORY,
Complications That Brought
About a Wedding.
By THERESA C. HOLT.
(Copyright, 1910. by American Press Asso
ciation.]
"Mr. Rucker," said the pretty widow,
Mrs. Taylor, "why will you be so un
complimentary as to forget me, to
pass me by as If you did not know me
when we meet on the street?"
"I think it must be something In my
eyesight." said Mr. ttucker apologet
ically.
"Eyesight' Nonsense!"
"You know perfectly well that I
consider you one of my most valued
friends." j
"So valued that you can't remember !
yon have ever met me before on see
ing me after a week's separation." |
"My memory for faces Is execrable."
"You shall not treat me so slight- j
ingly again, I promise you. I will
make you remember me."
"I beg you to do so. Then I shall |
be happy at receiving your smile that
I don't get when I pass you without j
recognizing you. But suppose you for- |
get vie when you pass, what will come |
of that?"
"I'll bet you what you like 1 won't." I
"What I like?"
"Yes."
"Very well. Let it be a kiss."
"A kiss?"
"Yes, a kiss ngalnst a dozen pairs of
gloves."
"You mean, I presume, that If I fail
to recognize you the next time we meet j
"GOODNESS OBACIOTTS!" EXCI.AIMED THE
usnr.
lam to give you a kiss. If I do rec
ognize you, you give me a dozen pairs
of gloves."
"That's right."
"It wouldn't be a fair bet. I aui
sure to recognize you."
"I dare say you will, and I shall have
a good excuse for making up with the
gloves for my forget fulness."
Several weeks passed, when one day
the widow, seeing what she believed
to be the figure of Mr lJucker on the
street before her, hastened her steps.
"1 told him I would make him remem
ber me, and I will," she muttered.
Coming up behind the figure, she
raised her parasol and gave the gen
tleman a vigorous poke in the back,
lie turned angrily; but, seeing a pretty
woman smiling at him, he smiled, too,
raising his hat at the same time. Nev
ertheless he looked puzzled.
"I told you 1 would make you re
member me," she said laughingly.
"Ah!"
"And I'll take the gloves—l wear
5%, usually four buttons."
"Eh?"
"Ilow killing!" laughed the lady.
"You've forgotten the bet."
"The betV"
"1 wonder if you really have for
gotten It or are trying to get out of it."
"Not I," said the gentleman gallant
ly, by this time gathering his wits.
"How many pairs have I lost?"
"Another lapse of memory—one doz
en pairs, 594."
"Oh, yes; hut would you mind tell
ing me the terms of the bet? You
know what an abominable memory 1
have."
The gentleman was walking with
her and evidently enjoying her so
ciety.
met yon l t*t you one dozen pairs of
gloves against"— She hesitated. "It
was the other way, wasn't it?"
"Your memory gone too?"
"Not a bit! Since you've lost there
can be no harm In saying what it is—
a kiss."
The gentleman opened his eyes and
puckored up his lips. Then he smack
ed them as if he relished an imaginary
kiss.
"Well, goon," ho said.
"The bet was that 1 would krrow
you the next time 1 met you."
"H'm!" said the gentleman.
"Of course I wouldn't have mado
such a bet if I hadn't been certain I'd
remember you. I'd known you from
your twin brother."
"Would you?"
"Yes; of course."
They came to a corner, and the lady
said:
"I go down this street to my hone.
Good day."
"I'll go with you."
He walked to her door, and It was
•greed that he should call the next
evening to settle the bet. As soon as
the door closed behind him be made ■
note of the number.
The man who made the bet with the
widow was Mr. Ned Rucker. The man
whom she met on the stt-eet was his
twin brother, Mr. Fred Hticker. The
latter had just returned from a long
residence abroad. The two were bach
elors and were In rooms together.
Fred Rucker, after his meeting with
the widow, went homo and, finding
his brother there, told of his adven
ture.
"Well, well," exclaimed Mr. Ned
Rucker, "If that isn't the best thing I
ever struck!"
"You ever struck!"
"Yes—l. Don't you see I've won a
kiss ?"
"Well, I like that. I propose to call
on the lady tomorrow evening and re
ceive payment. You've got nothing to
do with this meeting. She didn't meet
you and not know you."
Ned subsided. He pondered awhile
and then said: "1 tell you what we
can do. You can go and get your kiss
(if she'll pay It). Then I'll pass her
and pretend I'm you. That'll give me
a kiss."
"It wouldn't be fair."
"It Isn't fair for you to claim a kiss
either. She didn't make the bet with
you. She made It with me."
"Do you object to my having what
fun out of it I like?"
"No."
"Then I'll see It out."
The next evening Mr. Fred Rucker,
armed with a dozen pairs of kid gloves,
called on the widow. She came down
pleased at having won the gloves.
"How nice of you," she said. "I won
der you remembered to bring them or
your appointment this evening."
"I'm very forgetful," he said mourn
fully.
"Very."
"Still, this meeting today was no test.
How would you like to bet a kiss
against another dozen pairs of gloves
that you won't know me next time
we meet."
'"Oh. I don't wish to win any more
gloves from yon."
"But 1 wish to win the kiss."
"You can never do that."
However, he pleaded so hard that
she made the bet. He entered a mem
orandum of it in his book, and they
both signed it. It read:
We bet that Mrs. Taylor doesn't know
me, Mr. Rucker. when wo meet again on
the street—a kiss against a dozen pairs of
gloves.
During the call Mr. Rucker appeared
as Interested In her as before he had
appeared indifferent. When ho had
gone she was quite astonished to note
i that Instead of the hour being 10
j o'clock, as she had supposed, the hands
of the clock stood at 11:30. Indeed,
she experienced quite a pleasurable
| sensation for the rest of the evening.
Mrs. Taylor was somewhat excited
, over the bet she had made and felt
i the necessity for watching very closely
I for Mr. Rucker on the street, fearing
i that if she passed him unnoticed he
would claim payment of the bet. This
' kept her thinking of him moßt of the
| time. During his visit he had ap
j peared very different from what he
had ever appeared before—more viva
clous, brighter; indeed, she had found
him clever and entertaining. She was
not averse to marrying and wondered
I why she had not thought of him be
| fore as a possible husband,
j When Mrs. Taylor met Mr. Rucker
j again she was paralyzed with astonish
ment. He was doubled. The double's
I two right arms went up to his two
i hats, and there was a smile on his two
1 faces.
| "Goodness gracious!" exclaimed the
j lady.
j One of the Mr. Ruckers said: "You
| have a bet with one of us that you
j would know him when you met him ou
j tho street One of us Is a stranger to
j you. Therefore you can't know him.
I because a lady can't know a man to
! whom she has never been Introduced.
| Please tell us which you have bowed
j to."
| Mrs. Taylor was flustered. She tried
j to make out the ouo she had knowu.
| but failed.
! "That's not fair." she said.
| "Why not?" asked one of the twins.
I Mrs. Taylor was not in a condition of
1 mind to point out Just why It wasn't
J fair. Had she been cool she might
have thought of a way out of the dilem
ma. She made choice between the two
and named the wrong man. Both men
I burst into a laugh,
j "I've won," said Mr. Fred Rucker.
Mrs. Taylor colored to the roots of
| her hair.
| "So long," said Ned Rucker. and he
I passed ou.
j "Of course, as a gentleman," said the
; lady to the remaining Rucker, "you'll
| not ask me to pay the bet."
j "Not now." he replied, "I'll pay It
j myself. I'll call this evening with n
i dozen pairs of gloves."
j "What do you mean by 'not now.'"
| "I'll give you a sort of ticket of
I leave based on your good behavior."
j That evening Mr. Fred Rucker called
on Mrs. Taylor not ouly with a dozen
j pairs of gloves, but with a plentiful
| supply of flowers.
"How_ good of you." she said, "to
win a bet alia not only pay ft, but
bring these lovely flowers."
She sniffed the perfume with her
beautiful nose, then continued:
"What did you mean by a 'ticket of
leave' and all thnt?"
"The ticket may be exchanged for a
full discharge this very evening if
you prefer it."
"Explain."
j "Mine Is a case of love at first sight
| Will you marry me?"
j "What has that to do with It?" ask
ed the widow In a low tone and with
averted head,
j "This: There Is no harm In a kiss
between an engaged couple."
Before Mr. Rucker left the bet was
paid and the matter settled.
I
A Spring Exhaust.
South winds blowing,
Sap a-flowing.
Zephyrs puffing.
Heifers snuffing.
Whit wash splashing,
Neighbors clashing.
Dust a-fiylng,
Children crying.
Marbles playing,
liens all laying,
Crocus bobbin'.
Hear that robin!
Beoms so sunny—
Ain't It funnyT
Bay, I wonder—
Boring, by thunder!
—Cleveland Plain Dealer.
Slim Chance For Her.
A missionary who was making his
way through a backwoods region came
upon an old woman sitting outside a
cabin. He entered upon a religious
talk and finally asked her if she didn't
know there was a day of judgment
comity.
"Why, no," said the old lady; "I
hadn't heerd o' that. Won't there be
more than one day?"
"No, my friend; only one day,"was
replied.
"Well, then," she mused, "1 don't
reckon I can get togo, for we've only
got one mule, nnd John always has to
go everywhere first."—New York Sun.
HONOR FOR AN
INDIAN HEROINE
Monument In Memory of Saka
iawea Will Be Erected.
LEWIS AND CLARK'S GUIDE.
Design by Leonard Crunelle l« of He
roic Size—Bronze Statue Will Rest on
a Granite Pedestal and Face Missouri
River—Funds Raised by Clubwomen
and School Children.
The women of North Dakota are
about to erect a monument In front
of the capitol building at Bismarck in
honor of Sakajawea (bird woman), the
Shoshone guide of Lewis and Clark
across the Rocky mountains in 1804.
There Is already a beautiful statue of
this heroine in the park at Portland,
Ore., made by a Chicago woman artist
with funds raised through the efforts
of Mrs. Eva Emery Dye and others
at the time of the Portland exposition,
but Sakajawea is entitled to all the
honors that can be paid her.
The new statue for Bismarck was
designed by Leonard Crunelle, and the
clay model, which Is In Chicago, Is of
heroic size, nine feet tall, and depicts
an Indian woman muDlcd in a blanket,
with a papoose upon her back, and her
right arm extended as if pointing out
the way. Sir. Crunelle visited the In
dian reservation at Elbow Woods, N.
D., two years ago to study and sketch
Indian figures and costumes and has
had the advice of Spotted Weasel nnd
James Holding Eagle, who have vis
ited Chicago to Inspect and criticise
the statue. The bronze will be cast
next June or July nnd will be then
shipped to Its destination. The legis
lature of North Dakota has appropri
ated money for a granite pedestal,
which will be placed about half a mile
from the Missouri river 'j* that the fig
ure will face that stream*' It is expect
ed that the statue will be In place ready
for unveiling In October.
Reasons For Erecting the Statue.
The money to pay for the statue was
raised by the Federation of Women's ]
Clubs In North Dakota and by the '
school children of that state. The rea
sons why the women and children
should erect a statue to Sakajawea are
given In laconic terms In a little circu
lar published by the women's federa
tion:
First.—Sakajawea was the first North
Dakotan whose name was enrolleil on the
pages of history.
Second —lt Is proper that we mark his
toric spots tn our young and rising com
monwealth.
Third.—Sakajawea was the only woman
to accompany the Lewis and Clark ex
pedition.
Fourth.—Bhe was their guide and Inter
preter.
Fifth.—Bho protected them when threat
ened by hostile Indians.
Sixth.—She procured for them food and
horses when they were destitute of both.
Seventh.—She saved their Journals and
valuable papers at the risk of h>-r own
I life.
I Eighth.—She was the only one of the
| party who received no pecuniary compen
Isatlon for her services.
Ninth.—While enduring hardships and
suffering sh administered to the neees-
I sltles of others.
j Tenth.—She welcomed with Intelligent
j appreciation the civilization of the white
| race and waf the first Indian west of th"
j Missouri river known to embrace Chrls
j ttanlty.
j Eleventh—She was the first pioneer
mother to ci.ibs the Rocky mountains and
| carry her baby Into the Oregon country.
Claimed by North Dakota.
The women of North Dakota have
good historical ground for claiming
Sakajawea as a fellow citizen, be
cause, although she was a Shoshone
j by birth and that tribe lived farther
west in the mountains of Wyoming,
she was captured by the tiros Ventre
Indians of North Dakota when she
was eleven years old, was brought ttr>
by them, wore their costume and the
name they bestowed upon her—Tsa
ka-ka-wi-ash, which means "bird wo
man." The name Is often spelled Sa
ka-ka (bird) Wla-a (woman). After
the return of Lewis and Clark to the
east she went to her own tribe, whose
headquarters were near the present
City of Lauder. Wyo., and there lived
until hot' dv.ith iu IS.S4 at the supposed
age of 1 years. She is buried in
the CpNccpal cemetery near the
agency S, vera I of her descendents
are uo\v living on the Shoshone reser
vation. i"i«. h»r si r.. l:!jown as "Old
!!r-!: : ;u!te prominent in
triti ""Ik: i K Curtis in
Chl< a„.. . :li-11.
Largest Crane In the Orient.
Further evidences of the progress!ve
ness of the Japs is found in the fact
that they recently have purchased In
Great Britain and installed in the Mil
su Bishl dockyard and engine works
In Nagasaki the largest crane In the
orient and one of the largest In the
world. It Is a 150 ton hammered head
machine nnd has a height of 17" feet
it is operated by tlve separate motors
with an aggregate of 200 horsepower
To distribute the current nearly one
and a half miles of electric cable is
used. The one man who operates the
crane Is perched 150 feet in the air.
By simply touching a lever the little
brown fellow can work the Jib arm,
which Is lWj feet long, and lift, slew
or rack a Ofty ton weight at 142 feet
radius.
Her Mild Complaint.
Fatient Parent—Qeorgle, what do
yt>o think I found in my bed last
night? Georgle—What was It, mam
ma? Patient Parent—A railroad train
and a fire engine.—Harper's Bazar.
Sure.
Mrs. Church—Are your children be
ing brought up to help themselves?
Mrs. Oothem.—Oh, yes; I never lock
the cooky jar!—Yonkers Statesman.
We're All Alike.
''Tho Chinese worship ancestors."
"How queer: By the way, have you
hoard the latest? Itlarjorlo is engaged
to a real live duke."—Louisville Cou
rier-Journal.
II BRILLIANT IDEA,
It Established Mr. Josselyn as
a Playwright.
By ELBERT J. BENTLEY.
(Copyright. by American I'ress Asso
ciation. J
"There's uo use iu further pleading,
Mr. Josselyn. You are altogether too
humdrum for me."
Mr. Josselyn was a struggling play
wright who had never succeeded in
getting a play accepted.
"Isn't It enough." he replied lugubri
ously, "that I am trying all the while
to conjure up puppets to do romantic
and absurd things without them my
self? At any rate, I'm honest, and
that's more than can be said of Jame
son, whom you will doubtless marry if
you don't marry me."
"I would prefer that you should have
more Rnap and less honesty."
"You would like me to rob some one,
I suppose."
"It would be infinitely preferable to
spending every day In the same un
eventful way."
"Then I will turn robber."
"Do so, and I will marry you."
The expressions of the two faces at
this moment were a study. The girl's
BE WAS MAIICHKD TO THB FOOTliir.nTS
eye sparkled with mischief; the man's
countenance, which had been a picture
of melancholy, showed that he had
caught onto a possibility. She would
marry him If he would rob some one.
But robtiing some one would necessi
tate a residence for awhile behind bars,
lie must think out a plan by which he
might turn robber without submitting
to the imprisonment. He was Ingen
ious and had faith In his own Inge
nuity.
"Very well," he said. "I will rob
some one."
"Nonsense!"
"1 mean it. You have forced me to
take this course, and if I become a
felon it will be your fault. Adieu. I
will not ask you again until I have
committed a robbery."
"Bravo!" she exclaimed, clapping her
hands, while he walked away with a
theatrical stride.
"Dear me," said Irene to herself, "I
| hope he isn't going to make a gander
! of himself. Who would have thought
I I was so necessary to him? Suppose
he robs some one and that some one
shoots him! Heavens! 1 wonder if I
hadn't better stop him."
But as she went on thinking over the
matter a desire to discover what ho
would do got the better of her fears,
and she concluded to let the matter
take its course. Besides, there waj
I something fascinating in his risking a
' term In prison—lndeed, his life—to gain
I her.
A month passed, and she heard noth
ing from Mr. Josselyn. Then one day
he wrote her that he had at last suc
ceeded in securing the acceptance of a
play, and he would be happy to have
her go with him to the first night per
formance.
j Miss Sweetiand was very much
. pleased at the invitation, but she had
been fretting at having beeu thus let
alone and was now disappointed that
her lover had no tender word for her.
She feared he had accepted his dis
missal.
The first night came, and with it
came Mr. Josselyn with a carriage to
take Miss Sweetiand to see his play.
Naturally he was very 111 at ease.
When one struggles for months, per
haps years, with a play and it Is to be
tested before an audience he is excus
able for being agitated.
"You're all of a tremor," said the
girl. "Don't worry. I'm sure it will
be a success."
Their seats were In one of the pro
scenium boxes. Of course the house
was crowded—theaters are always
j crowded on first uights—and there
I were many of Jossel.vn's friends among
I the audience.
| The play was light comedy. The
| audience were captured at the very
opening. The second act, which is
liable to be dull, was very effective.
Just before Its close Josselyn asked
Miss Sweetiand to excuse him and left
the box. A few minutes later thero
was a cry of "Help, help!"
Every eye In the theater was turned
to the box opposite the one lu which
Miss Sweetiand sat, where two men
were tussling with each other.
"I'm being robbed; he's got mj
watch!" cried a voice.
These words had scarcely been spo
ken whan one of the two men ran from
the box.
The excited andlence sat expectant
for a few minutes, when another voice
cried:
"They've got him!"
Two policemen In uniform were
seen marching a man out of the the
ater.
Meanwhile the curtain had been
rung down.
The stage manager appeared from
behind a wing and said:
"Ladies and gentlemen, one of the
most daring robberies in the annals of
crime has been committed right here
In tills very theater Thinking that
before tlie villain Is taken to tho sta
tlon you would like to have a look at
111 ill, 1 have requested the police to
bring bitu for u moment 011 to the
stage."
There was a clapping of hands, the
curtain was rung up. and in a few
minutes two policemen advanced front
the right center with a man hand
cuffed between them. The robber
wore a mask and was in evening dress.
He was marched to the footlights.
"Take off his mask!" ordered the
stage manager.
A policeman removed the mask.
(■'or one moment there was silence;
then a deafening shout filled the the.
ater.
"It's .losselyn!" cried a voice
"Who's Josselyn?" asked a woman.
"Why. the man who wrote the play,
of course."
Meanwhile the shouts continued,
while Mr. Josselyn stood between the
policemen, on< h holding him by a hand
cuff. Miss Sweetland, who was not
versed in stagecraft, not dreaming but
that her lover had really robbed a
man for her sake, was in agony. Not
only would lie lie sent to the peniten
tiary, but this disgrace at being march
ed onto the stage in tlie presence of
an audience among wliotn were nearly
all the friends he possessed was horri
ble nnd would kill any sensitive man.
Josselyn gave one look at the girl; but
seeing that she was suffering inex
pressible torture, his face broke into
a smile.
Many of the audience were deceived,
so realistically had the scheme beett
carried our, and for a moment believed
that the man before them had commit
ted the robbery in which lie had been
caught. But Josseiyn's smile made It
apparent that the crime was a part of
the performance. There was a fresh
outburst of shouting, this time accom
panied by a thunder of applause.
"By Jove," exclaimed one of the au
dience, "that's the best stage gag I
ever saw! It's cuough to make a suc
cess of a dead failure."
"Your fortune's made," the stage
manager whispered to Josselyn.
"This means a 300 night run," mut
tered the manager, with a chuckle.
"Speech!" cried the audience with
one voice.
The policemen released the arms of
the prisoner, and, with the bracelets
still on his wrists, he stepped forward
and said:
"Ladies and gentlemen, 1 thank you
from the bottom of my heart for your
sympathy"—
"You don't need It; you've made a
hit!" Interrupted a voice.
"This is a hard world," continued
the playwright. "For what we deslra
we must make great sacrifices. I have
made a guy of myself tonight for an
object near to my heart—an object"—
"A hundred thousand In royalties!"
Interrupted another voice.
"Shut up!" cried one who wished to
hear the speech.
Meanwhile Josselyn stood looking at
the girl for whose sake he had made
a guy of himself with a look of humor
ous triumph in his eye. She drew a
long breath of relief, and gradually an
unwilling though radiant smile forced
itself over her features. When silence
was restored he concluded his speech
by stating that the object of his life
had been to write a successful play,
and tills heart's desire had been ac
complished. Then, thanking them for
the(r appreciation, he bowed, retired,
the curtain was rung down, and when
it was raised again it was upon tho
first scene of the third act.
Josselyn had "killed two birds with
one stone." lie had kept his contract
with Miss Sweetland and had insured
the success of his play. Everybody
knows that a play depends upon its
start. The first night is immensely
important. By his robbery the author
had put his audience in good humor
for the third act, the crucial point of
a play. The consequence was that,
while he noticed several defects in it.
which he corrected the next day. tho
audience pronounced it perfect.
Josselyn returned to his bos. Ila
found Miss Sweetland sitting behind a
curtain and took a seat beside her.
Notwithstanding t!;e fact that all eyes
were upon him. beneath the balcony
that concealed him fro;n his chest
downward lie felt a soft hand stealing
Into his. Ilis face broke into a charm
ing smile, ntid the audience, taking it
to Itself, gave three hearty cheers for
the playwright.
When the curt in went dowu on the
third act If then had been any doubts
that tho play would be n success they
had disappeared The next morning
the dreaded cri ics all gave favorable
notices, and from that time for months
the box office was crowded.
While Mr. Josselyn and Miss Sweet
land were tiding to her home she said
to him:
"I am very sorry that I should have
put you to so much trouble. I'm not
worth It."
"Indeed you are, sweetheart. But.
instead of putting me to trouble you
gave me a brilliant idea that will in
sure tho success of my play, establish
me as a playwright and make my for
tune."
"Which, I suppose, I shall share. It
Isn't every girl that is so well paid for
her folly."
son SEW!
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r«r all kind of Tin Rooflna,
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Stoves, HoatOFO, lton«oo,
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JOHN IIIXSOV
NO- IV E. FBONT ST.