A

A COMPLETE NOVELETTE
)
|
rease Paint Strategem
BY THEODORE SHELDON

Finneran bough the news-stand
uptown upon whicjh he had set his
heart, and it so profperea that nue was
justified in relinquishing his job with
the news company in order that he
might bestow upc h his new venture
his full and individual attention.
The company for which he had
worked for ten years handled all the
“hest sellers” —and others—and
through this source Finneran had aug-
mented the erudition gained in an
Kastside public school and to his
knowledge of the world and things as
they appeared to him from the top
floor of a downtown tenement.
Finneran was frugal and shrewd,
but like I, of us, he had his weak-
ness—a lust for adventure. Finneran
was an adventurer pure and simple.
At from the “best sellers”—and
olhers—he had read of the sprightiy
ramble of one Haroun-al-Rischid, and,
being blessed with a fecund imagina-
tion, he delighted to regard himself
as a sort of modern Bagdad caliph.
When this fanciful mood came upon
Lim he would roam the city’s length
and breadth hopeful that some strange

happenings would befall him.
Business done for the day, Finneran
would carefully close up his stand and
draw from his pocket a teetotuni.
This was a home-made contrivance
fashioned from a Small square block
of wood pierced with a short wire nail,
and the point of which acted as a pes
on which the little cube might spin
when the upper part of the nail was
rp twist between the thump

ard middle finger.
The four outward sides of the block
Lore respectively the letters BE, W, N
and S. With great solemnity Finne-
ran would stand under the glare of the
electric light which fiickered high
above him and spin this top on one
of the projecting shelves of his booth.
If it fell with W uppermost westward
he would go in quest of adventure
until, if he found none, he would spin
again for another direction.
On a certain evening he closed nis
ond later than usual, intending to

wend his way homeward, when the
spirit of the venturesome caliph en-
{ered his being and half guiltily he
vielded to its persuading power. The
toetotum directed a southerly course,
and after a block or two on foot the
heat of the evening caused him to
hoard a car.
Southward he rode almost to the
roint where the car's seat-backs were
turned over for the return journey,
t-

and once again he consulted an e
rly direction, and accordingly he got
or a cross-town car upon which he
stayed until a broad, East Side avenue
attracted him and he dropped off,
n
ih

turning his steps southward,
obedient to the guidance of the tee-
totum,
The buildings on this wide thor-
oughfare sit far back from the stree!
and the restauranis, large and small,
which abound and flourish, avail them-
selves of the additional space, thus
afforded and array their tables and
chairs under the awnings of vine-
covered trellises. the gaze of passers-
Ly being partially screened by small
trees and shrubs set in green boxes
along the front and sides.
Into one of these places Finneran
wandered and took a seat at a small,
round, iron-based table near the side
¢ntrance which gave upon the street.
Owing to the hour there were but few
patrons and an obsequious waiter lost
nc time in ministering to Finneran’s
wants.
“Iced coffee and cakes,” he ordered,
“and bring me a paper.”
The waiter bowed and hurried to a
side table whereon lay many foreign
rews journals and illustrated periedi-
cals, some of them held in wooden
binding. with handles attached.
Now it huppened that the clientele
ra ort, small though

particu.2r
was, was made up of men from

ny land which accounted for th
yemopolitan array of vublic prints;

but never before had the waiter en-
countered such a poyglot person. He
brought the paper Finneran requested,
and then retired to a far corner, where
he gazed in admiration at the young-

ster who read in all languages.
Quietly alive to the interest he had
awakened, Finneran, with the utmost
gravity, persuod his whim and scanned
the pages of ihe foreign papers with
deepening absorption, stealing now
and again a glance at the wondering
waiter. When, finally he ordered more
iced coffee and cakes, and carelessly
asked if there was a chinese paper in
the place, the waiter’s negative died
in hi s throat, and he could only shake
his head.
On his way to the kitchen, however,
on meeting the proprietor, his power
of speech returned, and that dignitary
was informed of the presence of the
linguistic marvel, and Finneran’s
last request made known. The pro-
prietor went behind his desk and rum-
maged a moment, at last drawing forth
a crumpled newspaper which he bore
in triumph to Finneran‘s table.
“Thank’s very much,” said Finne-
ren, taking the paper then, as he
glanced at it he added, “Oh, but ¢
an old one—I've seen it.”
The proprietor gulped.
“Pll finish II Progresso, I guess”
continued Finneran, picking up the
Italian paper. As he said this he saw
a swarthy gray-haired man who sat
far off at one end of the room shift
in his seat, at the same time regarding
Rim fixedly.
en the proprietor | who had
~-
FA
=
a
m
pte
wn
been roaming about the place, came |
to the table at which the gray-haired |
man sat the latter rose and spoke a |
few words to him, inclining his head |
in Finneran’s direction as he talked.
The proprietor shrugged his shoulders,
made a gesture with his hands and |
continued on his way into the kitchen :
The gray-haiteu man approached
Finneran timidly.
“Excuse me, signor,” he said, “you
pik Italian?”
“I read it better than I speak it,”
replied Finneran, with truth and ami-
ability. Here possbly, was adventure,
The gray-haired man glanced furi-
tively about him, and then seated
himself at Finneran’'s table.
“You no Italian,” he began with con-
viction, smiling at the other's brick-
red hair and azure eyes.
“No, I'm a blond Esquimaux,” said
Finneran solemnly.
"The gray-haired man glanced fur-
drew from his pocket a much-soiled
envelope which, after further furtive
glances, he pushed across the table.
Then looking eagerly at Finneran, he
whispered. “Tell me what he says!”
Finneran glanced at the address,
which he recognized as that of a bet-
ter class tenement in the Italian quar-
ter, then drew the letter from the
envelope. It was in Italian and exe-
In one corner was
cuted in red ink.
a crudely sketched hand done in black.
“Why do you ask me to read this,
Cantarelli?” he demanded, shooting a
stern and quizzical glance at his com-
panion.
“I can no read or write,” said the
v-haired man, leaning across th2

ible and gazing squarely into his
eyes,
“But some Italian friend—"
“Ah, I no trust—I scared! Not for
me—myself. No! It matter not. But
my daughter! My beautiful Giulietta.
h, signor, she is so beautiful! Like
the blessed Madonna!
Finneran bent over the letter and
as he did so he heard a quick intaking
And so good.
of breath, a muttered imprecation, and
the gray-haired man sprang from the
table and vanished through the side
door, looking over his shoulder to-

ward the main entrance as he fled.
Finneran followed the direction of his
glance and caught sight of a dark-

tinned, evil face peering in at the
door It vanised almost instantly.
And there before him on the table lay
the lurid letter, with its nature -of
“Il Mano Nera'—the Black Hand!
When Professor Altomare stopped

fot his papers at Finneran's news

and next morning, and was movin:

toward the subway entrance, he
v.as halted by the newsdealer's cheery

xcuse me, professor, just a mo-
men have you got time to translate
a short letter for me?”
“Certainly, my friend,” answered the
little Italian teacher, and Finneran
handed him the sinister-looking letter.
As he hastily read it over to himself
the professor elevated his eyebrows,
and when he had finished emitted a
prolonged whistle, y
“Well?” said Finneran.
“Did someone send this to you,
“No, but I would like to know what
The professor readjusted his spec-
tacles and said, “I will read it for you.”
Then he cleared his throat and read:
“Animals!
“You can delay no longer. Thrice
yeu have failed. Tomorrow night I
will call at your house as the clock
strikes nine my knock shall sound on
your door. Leave the money with
Giulietta. If I find her empty-handed
she will die on the spot, and you soon
after, You are too wise to attempt
If I am captured you will
Be guided
any trick.
be dead within an hour.
ty me and all will be well. Fail me
and you know what will happen!”
“No signature but a black hana,”
chuckled the professor as he returned
) 1 fo Finneran and walked

his arms.

in’s first impulse, his more

the matter

le one, y
police « iin of the pie-
ct in which Giulietta and her father
lived; thrall of adventure-
king held him back—here was
ity (at least

but the

according to her
father), soon to be in distress, and he
—J"inneran—could succor her-—could
thwart and punish the miscreant who
would offer her harm! And there was
no monkey business about it, either!
Now Finneran was far from quixotic
in the purest sense.of the term; but
he was keenly alert to the fact that
an actual tragedy was impending, and
that he himself could and would avert
it single-handed.
At last he faced a “regular adven-
ture!”
A plan of action must be immedi-
ately devised. That the writer of thé
threatening letter meant what he said
there was no doubt—how to cope with
and capture him was the question.
That bodily hurt might come to him-
self never entered the mind of Finne-
ran. Lacking an inch of six feet in
height, and broad in proportion, Fin-
peran had a heart that was as stout
as his sinews. The thought of lying
in wait for the Black Hander and over-
coming him by mere strength had no
appeal—he must outwith the fellow by
strategy, cunning and skill combined.
There would be so much more to it!
Thus did Finneran reason, and
finally set himself to thinking how he

should accomplish, in the most grati-
tefore him. He closed his stand
earlier than usual that evening and
hurried to his lodgings. From the re-
cess of a venerable trunk he dug up
{a black tin box which contained
grease-paints and powders such as are
used by the theatrical profession. He
unearthed also a trick dagger, the
blade of which telescoped when a
blow was struck with it, the hilt
fastening itself to the clothing, look-
ling as though the knife had entered
the body.
Of these things Finneran had be-
come possessed in his his more youth:
ful days when vaudeville had held out
t¢ him its lure, but until tonight he
had neither seen or thought of them
for years. Now the very definite man-
ner in which he resurrected them and
packed them together in a parcel
showed that they were to play a part
in the night's work which very evi-
dently he had mapped out.
Looking once more at the scrawled
name and address on the envelope
which contained the red-ink Black-
Hand letter, he tucked his package
under his arm and sallied forth.
Finneran mounted boldly the five
flights of the dismal tenement desig-]
rated by the address on the envelope,
and knocked boldly on the door which
Lelow stairs, he had learned was the
entrance to the abode of the people he
scught—the Cantarellis.
His knock was at first unanswered,
but hearing sounds of
viithin he rapped again.
whispering
This time a
soft, feminine voice replied in Italan,
and although he did not understand
what was said he announced with all
the assurance of having uttered an

‘pen sesame,” “It’s Finneran.”
Then from the other side of the door
came in English, “Are you a police-
man?”
“Oh, no, better than
newspaper man!”
Again there was a whispered con-
that—I'm a
versation, and the door was opened.
In the dim light of a solitary oil lamp
Finneran beheld a strikingly pretty
voung woman. Her glossy, black hair,
tastefully arranged, crowned an oval,
intelligent face which, with her well-
fitting simple black dress and white
collar, seemed strangely out of keep-
ing with the surroundings.
A look, half inquiring, half fearful,

in her dark, wide-set eyes as she
As he did
sc and the door closed behind him
Wi
invited Finneran to enter.
the gray haired man of the avenue
sprang from thé shadow and

rreeted him.

nor, what did he r
said, Mr. Cantarelli, that you
ire a boob not to have handed his

ers to the police in the first place;
that he knew he ‘had vou right,’ and
that he is coming here tonight to col-
leet a little piece of change from you,
not to mention other things which
don’t make no never-mind. Do you ee}
me, amiko myo?” (The two last
words are spelled as Finneran spoke
them.)
The Italian nodded.
“Oh, please tell me what it ig all
about,” pleaded the girl, with a suppli-
cating move in Finneran’s direction.
“1 suppose it’s some more of those
miserable letters, but, of course, I do
not know, as my father no longer con-
fides in me.”
“It’s a good thing that neither of you
know what's in this letter,” thought
Finneran, at the same time marveling
at the girl's correct speech and lack of
accent. Then he said aloud, “Pardon
me a second—Mr, Cantarelli, I have
come here to meet this man, you leave
it all to me?”
The old Italian did not,seem to grasp
what had been said to him, and the
daughter quickly translated to him.
It brought forth a hopeless shrugging
if shoulders and a mumbled, “All right
but it is no good!”
Finneran grinned encouragingly,
ind taking the chair offered him hy
Miss Cantarelli he explained briefly to
her why he was there, relating his
'xperience of the night before, and
1

Low he came to have in hig posse mn
the letter, but telling no more of its
contents than he had already told.
Tn

ring the recital Cantarelli walked
up and down the room, the clenchinz
and unclenching of his hairy, gnarled
fists being punctuated with fervently
muttered prayers. ’
“If you and your father will leave
“This matter to me and do just as 1
say,” concluded Finneran cheerful, “1
think we can fix it all up as easy as
pie!”
“You are very kind, indeed, Mr.
Finneran,” said the girl, “but what are
we to do?’ Finneran consulted his
watch.
“It is now 8.25,” he said, “and our
caller will be here at 9.00. Now, I
want your father to gc out and get
away from the neighborhood—he can
return at 9.30.” ;
To her father the yourg woman red
peated this in Italian, ard when she;
had finished he tremblirgly took up\
Lis hat and with a sorrovful “Addio.”}
clumped down the steep stairs. Miss
Cantarelli sat expectantly, her hands
clasped in her lap. The fea had left
her eyes, and she viewed Finer od
reassuring expression and cmfident 1
bearing with undisguised relief :
He looked at her wth growing of
miration, and there was something of
an awkward pause before he man-
aged to say, “We've, got to do a little
theatrical stunt tonight Miss Cantarelli
—jever do any amateur shows?”
“Yes,” she said, with a smile, “I've

fving manner possible, that which lay
taken parts now and then at the school

where I teach, but I have no talent.”
“Never mind, you'll get away with
it,” Finneran rattled on. We haven't
a good deal of time for rehearsal, but
here’s the plot—tonight I am going (o
riay your lover, and you are going to
kill me!”
The girl stared at Finneran for a
space and then drew back; but the re-
currence of the reassuring look on his
face and the azure twinkle in his azure
eyes brought a smile to her lips.
“I don’t quite understand,” said she.
Finneran said nothing, but produc-
ing his bundle he unwrapped the
make-up box and asked for a candle.
This given him and lighted he seated
himself in front of a small stand back
of which hung a narrow, dingy mirror.
With great deftness of fingers he ma-
nipulated the sticks of grease-paint,
first heating them in the flame of the
candle, then applying them to his face.
When he had used the powder puff
as a finishing touch and turned toward
the girl a little cry escaped her. His
countenance appeared drawn as if in
agony, his eyes sunken, staring and
glassy, while his whole face and neck
were ashen gray and waxen.
“Now for the dirty work!” said Fin
neran in mock dramatic tones. He
{thereupon melted carmine cosmetic in
a little pan, and with this daubed his
shirt front in a spot under which he
figured his heart should be; then he
held up the trick dagger and explained

its mechanism.
Now he made as if to plunge the
blade into his breast over the crimson
stains, and as the hilt attached itseif
to the soft shirt he wore and re-
mained fixed Miss Cantarelli gave an-
other little cry and turned away her
head.
“We must hurry,” said Finneran.
“Tousel up your hair and take off your
When she had done this bid
ding he powdered her face until the
collar.”
healthy glow of her olive skin gave
way to a deathly paleness.
“Now unlock the door, and if any
ene comes and attempts to enter,”
her continued, “try to prevent him by
pushing against it. Then let him come
in and run over to this corner and
nd?

wv here—scared tiff, unders

Don't get really scared at anything
that happens, but remember this
vou've killed me! Everything will be
a;l right.”
He stretched himself on the floor,
one arm flung out, and his left knee
arawn up.
Then a stair creaked and a soft
tread sounded along the hall, followed
bv three smart taps on the door.
With an exclamation, Miss Canta
relli bounded across the room and
hurled herself against the portal, but
as it slowly pushed inward a tall,
muscular man stepped into the room.
nneran caught a glimpse of his
wicked face, and at once recognized
it as the same that had leered at him
through the avenue cafe the evening
hefore.
The girl stood defiantly in front of
the man in the doorway, and st:

Lis entrance for a brief moment, du
ine raze® at one an-
» which the two
other in amazement the man at the

lved condition of t
g the intruder,

at recogniz
tn
"5
gasped, “Pasqual
“GQ
31,” said he, as he pushed further
into the room and launched into a tor
ent of Italian which, in substance wa
translated for Finneran’s benefit by
Miss Cantarelli, exclaiming, “No, my
father left no money with me for you
or for anyone else! Get out of here!”
It was then that Pasquale changed
his manner and in place of the harsh,
threatening tones he had first used, his
voice became gentle and softly plead-
ing—several times Finneran heard him
say tenderly, “Giulietta!”
There was a pause, and then the
girl exclaimed dramatically in Eng
Lich, “See what I've done!”
The man crossed the room to where
Finneran lay.
“Santa Maria!” he whispered. Then
he turned to the girl and once again

his words flowed in an impassioned
flood.
“No, no!” cried Giulietta “No,
nol”
Finneran eh
head a, lit S
what wha iran )
he x X
his left arm and with his right reach
hip pocket from which pro
1 the awkward butt of a hu
eutomatie pistol.
There was but a second in which to
act.
Finneran rose to a sitting posture
with a stiff arm and an acusing finger
pointed at Pasquale’s back. Then he
let out a horrid, blood-curdling scream,
For an instant Pasquale stood mo-
tionless, then relaxed, and Guilietta
slipped limply to the floor. The Italidn
turned and beheld the ghastly visage
of Finneran, the hilt buried dagger
in the crimson stain and the stark
pointing finger.
“Madre di Dio!” he shrieked, ana
fled from the room.
Professor Altomare was the first
grest the Finneran's entertained in
their cozy apartment. As they lin-
gered over the meal Finneran repeated
for the fifth time the story of the red-
ink Black Hand letter, and what came
of it. Guilietta left the table and in
a moment returned with the trick dag-
ger which she laughingly exhibited to
the professor.
“I prize that among my most cher-
ished possessions,” said she, for not
only did it save my life, but it brought
me a jewel of a husband—here's to
him!” And Mrs. Finneran and Pro-
fessor Altomare clinked their glasses
of chianti while Finneran looked on
and smiled sheepishly.

Once upon a time the gallant used
to kiss his lady’s hand. The modern
girl will tell you it’s entirely out of

Princess Willful
(Continued from page 2)
embraces, were most interested in
their two visitors, especially the mon-
key. *
“Come,” said the good woman, “your
supper is still waiting.”
“We will come, too, if we may,”
said the little princess, laying her
hand on one curley head, and the
monkey knowingly went ahead, so that
the three children eagerly followed
him into the house.
As the supper neared its end the
good woman looked up suddenly and
asked, “But how did it come to pass
vou were changed into roses?” for in
the excitement and joy at recovering
her children, she had forgotten the
strange eircumstances.
“"Twas a little old woman who made
us into roses,” cried the littlest boy,
“and I said I didn’t want to be goo
and that I would rather like to stay
away; so she said, ‘I will change you
into roses so that you may see how
sorrowful your poor mother! will be
when you return not this evening.”
“And then we began to cry,” said
elder child, “but before we could run
away we found ourselves roses grow-
ing in our own garden.”
“It must have been the little old
women we saw,” said the princess,
turning to her pet monkey.
“Did she have a very crooked nose?”
asked the littlest boy,
“And did her chin turn up till it
almost touched it?” asked the next
child
“And was her hair in a long white
hraid?” asked the eldest, “and were

her eyes black as coals and bright a
alamonds ?”
“Yes,” answered the princess with
turning to each child in an-
swer to his question.
“And she hobbled
crutch,” added the monkey.
a laugh,
along on a
“Yes,” cried the three children at
cnee, “she did!”
At that moment the little old woman
herself appeared. The children clung
in terror to their mother’s skirt, while
the little princess caught hold of the
monkey for protection.
“Fear not,” said the little old woman,
“All's well that
well. I returned to find out
in a kindly voice.

whether the three roses were to sleep
in the garden or in their feather beds.”
At this the children grew bolder and
And the little
princess turned to the little old woman
lost much of their fear.
and said, “I am sure you would not
have let them remain roses all through
the long night.”
“Bless you no,” replied the little
old woman, with a twinkle in her
black eyes, “bless you, no. But I am
ad that dit was the mother’s tears

and of forgiveness that made
them good little children in.”
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| how often my dear mother kissed

“So am L” replied the little pri cess |
in a whisper, “it makes me remen ber |
© 1
And here tha!

in loving forgiveness.”
little princess actually began to Cry. lat
An Exploded Pun
“Aw, yes!” grumbled the postmaster
Forked Stick, Arkansas, “I've

“I feel quite homesick!” she sobbed. |p, ered all I want to hear of them old
“There, there,”
woman, “don’t cry,” and turning to-)
wards the good woman, she said, “take |
the little princess into your house and !
put her to bed with your own dear
children, for she is far from her own
home and lonely.”
“That I will gladly do,” answered
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right,

Highly Humorous

“Don’t tell me a woman ain't got no
sense of yumer!” said Constable Sam
T. Slackputter, of Petunia. “I know
a dad-blamed sight better! Rvery
or.ce in a while when I crank a lady's
flivver for her she starts the car be-
fore I can get out of the way, and runs
over me; everybody but me has a
kearty laugh.”—The Press.

An Ominous Outlook
“Is your nephew, whom you are put-
ting through college, coming back to
the old farm when he completes his
0
education?

“I'm afraid not,” answered honest
Farmer Bentover. “His education is
costing me so much that prob’ly by the
time he gets all he can hold of it there
won't be any old farm left, and the
only inducement for him to come baci
will be to see the place where the
11

Gl rm used to be,”—Time and Tide.

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| postal cards.
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said the little old |joLes about postmasters reading the
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about one in fifty of them durn postal
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Successful Farming.
Only
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Missed Both Ways
“So that magazine editor sent your
story back to you?” said Brown.
“Yes,” replied Smith,
“What did he say?’ asked Brown.
“He sald that the story was both
good and original.”
“Then why didn’t he accept it?”
“ON,” explained Smith, “he said that
what was good wasn't original, and
what was original wasn’t good.”
Silicus—“Ah, who can define love?”
Cynicus—"1 can. It’s what people
write novels and plays about.”

The teachers say they want more pay,
And ’tis their aim to boot,
To hit the dollar mark, or they
Won't show the young idea the way
They are supposed to shoot,

Attention, MEN!
Let Me Send You this Gigantic Shoe
Value

at $5.00,

money refund
*“T'he Hog Island Special”

Brings this offering to you for
inspection.
the Army lg
Reg rlesale value $5.00
t quality and finest workmanship
1d made to stand wear

=se shoes.
We sta back of it. Mail
y money refunded if not sa

Sizes 6 t0 9
R. FORSTER & SON
1239 Main St., Manayunk, Philadelphia, Pa.
Established 50 years

PHILADELPHIA, PA. Phone, Kens. 2594

with originality, and has the
ed in every handsome line.
It's low-hung

s style;with club chair ove

aluminum bod
4
npory

723 North
Service Station:

Templar
The Superfine Small Car
The Rakish “Sportette”
The design of the Templar “Sportette” is
DISTRIBUTER
1718--22
infused
mark of distinction engrav-

arv o
10istery in sm bla
i »1 3 4 da lat
ishield set 1 rakisn a €

Broad St.
Wood St.

VITRI-SILL!:

——
pl

SOON
\
S
\

Entirely protected with an armor of steel
combustion; more power; less gas;
ASK. FOR
5 'THE
“KANT-BREAK” |
World's Greatest Spark Plug
COMPARED TO OTHERS, IT’S LIKE THE
LAMP TO THE TALLOW CANDLE
No more broken
top and cup. Can’t short circuit.
or current transformer, in air-tight vacuum chamber, produces perfect

makes starting easy; increases mileage 15 to 30 percent.
~The “KANT-BREAK? fires in oil and gives pep to cars with
leaking cylinders.
The “KANT-BREAK?” is being adopted by the leading con-
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It is indestructible and should last as long
der an absolute guarantee of satisfaction or money back. Pr

as the mot
Dealers and Salesmen Wanted
218 North 15th St.,
Mail Orders Filled Promptly.
Make Money Orders Payable to

LYONS AUTO SUPPLY CO.
(Pennsylvania Distributors)
Bell Phone, Locust 616
I'elescope intensifier
stops missing, skipping, and jumping;
Philadelphia, Pa.
MAZDA

porcel
or. Sold un-
ice, $1.50.