Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 235, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 October 1915 — Page 2

the CZAR'S SPY ..The Mystery of a Silent Love ..

By Chevalier WILLIAM LE QUEUX AUTHOR of "THE CLOSED BOOK,” ETC.

€ (J AUTHOR *f “DIE CLOSED BOOK,” ETCILLUSTRATIONS 4< C D RHODES/

SYNOPSIS. The yaebt Lol* narrowly cocapeo wreck In Lagtem harbor Gordon Grose, locum laooM for the British consul, la called «by Hornby, the Lola's owner, and i aboard with him and hla friend, Hrtton Chator. Aboard the yacht he accidentally oom a room full of arms and ammunition and a torn photograph of a yo«*g *l>l That night the conaul’e safe M robbod and the Lola puts suddenly to •ea. The oohee And that Hornby is * fraud and the Lola's name a false one. Gregg visits Capt Jack Durnford of the marines aboard his vessel, and is surprised to learn that Durnford knows, but will not reveal, the mystery of the Lola. “It concerns a woman." In London Gregg is trapped nearly to his death by .* former servant. OUnto, who repents tn tUne to save him. but not to give a reason for his treachery. Visiting in Dumfries Gregg meets Muriel Lotthoourt. who Is strangely affected at the mention of the Lola. Hornby appears. Muriel introduces Hornby as Martin Woodroffe. her father's friend. Gregg finds that she is engaged to Woodroffe. Leithoourt’s actions and connection with Woodroffe are mystertoua Gregg sees a copy of the torn photograph on the Lola and finds that the young girl la Muriel's friend, woodroffe disappears. Gregg discovers the body of a murdered woman tn Rannoch wood.

CHAPTER V—Continued. And Muriel, a pretty figure in a lowest gown of turquoise chiffon, standing behind her father, smiled secretly at me. I smiled at her in return, but It was a strange smile, I fear, tor with the knowledge of that additional mystery within me—the mystery of the woman lying unconscious or perhaps dead, up in the wood—held me stupefied. I had suspected Leithcourt because of his constant trysts at that spot, but I had at least proved that my suspicions were entirely without foundation. He could not have gone home and dressed in the time, for I had taken the nearest route to the castle while the fugitive would be compelled to make a wide detour.' I only remained a few minutes, then went forth into the darkness again, utterly undecided how to act. My first impulse was to return to the woman’s aid, for she might not be dead after aIL And yet when I recollected that hoarse cry that rang out in the darkness, I knew too well that she had been struck fatally. It was this latter conviction that prevented me from turning back to the wood. You will perhaps blame me, but the fact is I feared that if I went there suspicion might fall upon me, now that the real culprit had so ingeniously escaped. Whether or not I acted rightly in remaining away from the place, I leave it to you to judge in the light of the grossing truth which afterwards transpired.

I decided to walk straight back to my uncle’s, and dinner was over before I had bad my tub and dressed. Next day the body would surely be found; then the whole countryside would be filled with horror and surprise. Was It possible that Lelthcourt. that calm, well-groomed, distinguished looking man, held any knowledge of the ghastly truth? No. His manner as he stood In the hall chatting gayly with me was surely not that of a man with a guilty secret. I became firmly convinced that although the tragedy affected him very closely, and that H had occurred at the spot which he had each day visited for some mysterious purpose, yet up to the present he was in ignorance of what had transpired. But who was the woman? Was she young or old? ▲ thousand times I regretted bitterly that I had no matches with me so that I might examine her features. Was the victim that sweet-faced young girl whose photograph had been so ruthlessly cast from its frame and destroyed? The theory was a weird one. but was it the truth? I retired to my room that night full of fevered apprehension. Had I acted rightly in not returning to that lonely spot on the brow of the hill? Had I done as a man should do tn keeping the tragic secret to myself? At six I shaved, descended, and went out with the dogs for a short walk; but on returning I heard of nothing unusual, and was compelled to remain inactive until near midday. I was crossing the stable yard where I had gone to order the carriage for my aunt, when an English groom, suddenly emerging from the harness room, touched his cap. saying:** “Have you 'eard. sir. of the awftu affair up yonder?*’ “Of what?” I asked quickly. “Well sir, there seems to have been a murder last night up in Rannoch wood.” said the man quickly. “Holden, the gardener, has just come back from that village and says that Mr. Lelthcourt*s under gamekeeper as he was going home at five this morning came upon a dead body.” “Call Holden. I’d like to know all Mi heard,” I said. And presently, when the gardener emerged from the jrapehouse, I sought of him all the particulars he had gathered. *1 don’t know very much, sir," was ithe man’s reply. “I went into the Inn fer a glass of beer at eleven, as l ed* ”wa>s do, and heard them talking about ft. . A young man was murdered last night up toßnnaoch wood." “The body was that of a man?" I

asked, trying to conceal my utter* bewilderment "Yes—about thirty, they day. The police have taken him to the mortuarv at Dumfries, and the detectives are up there now looking at the spot, they say.” A man! And yet the body I found was that' of a woman —that I could swear. After lunch I took the dogcart and drove alone into Dumfries. The police constable on duty at the town mortuary took me up a narrow alley, unlocked a door, and I found myself in the cold, gloomy chamber of death. From a small dingy window above the light fell upon an object lying upon a large slab of gray stone and covered with a soiled sheet.

The policeman lifted the end of the sheet, revealing, to me a white, hardset face, with closed eyes and dropped Jaw. I started back as my eyes fell upon the dead countenance. I was entirely unprepared for such a revelation. The truth staggered me. The victim was the man who had acted as my friend —the Italian waiter, Olinto. I advanced and peered into the thin inanimate features, scarce able to realise the actual fact But my eyes had not deceived me. Though death distorts the facial expression of every man, I had no difficulty in identifying him. "You recognize him, sir?” remarked the officer. "Who is he? Our people are very anxious to know, for up to the present moment they haven’t succeeded in establishing his identity. "I will see your inspector,” -4 answered with as much calmness as I could muster. "Where has the poor fellow been wounded?" “Through the heart,’’ responded the constable, as turning the sheet farther down he showed me the small knife wound which had penetrated the victim’s jacket and vest full in the chest “This is the weapon,” he added, taking from a shelf close by a long, thin poniard with an ivory handle, which he handed to me.

lu an instant I recognized what it was, and how deadly. It was an old Florentine misericordia, with a hilt of yellow ivory, the most deadly and fatal of all the daggers of the middle ages. It was still blood-stained, but as I took the deadly thing in my hand I saw that its blade was beautifully damascened, a most elegant specimen of a medieval arm. Yet surely none but an Italian would use such a weapon, or would aim so truly as to penetrate the heart And yet the person struck down was a woman and not a man! I looked again for the last time upon the dead face of the man who had served me so well, and yet who had enticed me so nearly to my death. In the latter incident there was a deep mystery. He had relented at the last moment, just in time to save me from my secret enemies. Could it be that my enemies were his? Had he fallen a victim by the same hand that had attempted so ingeniously tO kill me? ; Why had Lelthcourt gone so regularly up to Rannoch wood? Was It in order to meet the man who was to be entrapped and killed? What was Olinto Santini doing so far from London. if he had not come expressly to meet someone in secret? With my own hand I re-covered the face with the sheet. I accompanied the constable to the inspector's office some distance across the town. Having been Introduced to the big, fair-haired man in a rough tweed suit, who was apparently directing the inquiries into the affair, he took me eagerly into a small back room and began to question me. I was, however, wary not to commit myself to anything further than the identification of the body. “The fact is.” I said confidentially, “you must omit me from the witnesses at the inquest.” “Why?” asked the detective suspiciously. "Because if it were known that I have identified him all chance of getting at the truth w'ill at once vanish," I answered. “I have come here to tell you in strictest confidence who the poor fellow really is.” "Then you know something of the affair?** he said, with a strong Highland accent. “I know nothing,” I declared. “Nothing except his name." “H’m. And you say he's a foreigner —an Italian—eh?”

“He was in my service in Leghorn for several years, and on leaving me he came to London and obtained an engagement as waiter in a restaurant His father lived in Leghorn; he was doorkeeper at the prefecture.” "But why was he here in Scotland?” “How can I tell?” "You know something of the affair. I mean that you suspect somebody, or you would have no objection to giving evidence at, the inquiry." “I have no suspicions. To me the affair Is just as much of an enigma as to you.*’ I hastened at once to explain. "My only fear is that if the assassin knew that I had identified ■

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN. RENSSELAER. IND.

him he would take care not to betray himself.” r t’You therefore think he will betray himself?” “I hope so.” "By the fact that the man was attacked with an Italian stiletto, it would seem that his assailant was a fellowcountryman,” suggested the detective. “The evidence certainly points to that,” I replied. "Someone who waited for him on the edge of that wood and stepped out and killed him —that’s evident,” he said, "and my belief is that it was an Italt ian. There were two foreigners who slept at a common lodging house two nights ago and went on tramp towards Glasgow. We have telegraphed after them and hope we shall find them. Scotsmen or Englishmen never use a knife of that pattern.” ”1 know not whom to suspect,” I declared. "It is a mystery why the man who was once my faithful servant .should be enticed to that wood and stabbed to the heart.” "There is no one in the vicinity who knew him?" "Not to my knowledge." "We might obtain his address in London through his father in Leghorn,” suggested the officer. “I will write today if you so desire.” I said readily. "Indeed, I will get my friend the British consul to go round and see the old man and telegraph the address if he obtains it.” "Capital!” he declared. "If you will do us this favor we shall be greatly indebted to you. It is fortunate that we have established the victim’s identity—otherwise we might be entirely in the dark. A murdered foreigner is always nqpre or less of a mystery."

Therefore, then and there, I took a sheet of paper and wrote to my old friend Hutcheson at Leghorn, asking him to make Immediate inquiry of Olinto’s father as to his son’s address in London. We sat for a long time discussing the strange affair. In order to betray no eagerness to get away, I offered the big Highlander a cigar from my case and we smoked together. The inquiry would be held on the morrow.

Revealing to Me a White, Hard, Set Face With Closed Eyes and Dropped Jaw.

he told me, but as far as the public was concerned the body would remain as that of some person “unknown.” “And you had better not come to my uncle’s bouse, or send anyone,” I said. “If you desire to see me, send me a line and I will meet you here in Dumfries. It will be safer.” The officer looked at me with those keen eyes of his, and said: “Really, Mr. Gregg, 1 can’t quite make you out, I confess. You seem to be apprehensive of your own safety. Why?”

“One never knows whom one offends when living in Italy.” I laughed, as lightly as I could, endeavoring to allay his suspicion. “He may have fallen beneath the assassin’s knife by giving a small and possibly innocent offense to somebody. Italian methods are not English, you know.” “By Jove, sir, and I’m jolly glad they’re not!” he said. “I shouldn’t think a police officer’s life is a very safe one among all those secret murder societies I’ve read about.” “Ah! what you read about them Is often very much exaggerated.” I assured him. “It is the vendetta which is such a stain upon the character of the modern Italian; and depend upon it, this affair in Rannoch wood is the outcome of some revenge or other—probably over a love affair.” “But you will assist us, sir?" he urged. “You know the Italian language, which will be of great advantage; besides, the victim was your servant.” “Be discreet,” I said. “And in return I will do my very utmost to assist you in hunting down the assassin." And thus we made our attempt. Half an hour after I was driving in the dogcart through the pouring rain up the hill out of gray old Dumfries to my uncle’s house. K As I descended from the cart and gave it over to a groom, old Davis, the buuer, came forward, saying in a low voice: y “There’s Miss Lelthcourt waiting to see >ou, Mr. Gordon. She’s in the morning room, and been there an hour. She asked me not to tall anyone else she's hare, str."

I walked across the Mg tad! aafi along the corridor to the room the old man had indicated. And as 1 opened the door and Muriel Leithcourt id' plain black rose to meet me, I plainly saw from her white, haggard countenance that something had happened—that she had been forced by circumstances to come to me in strictest confidence. Was she, I wondered, about to reveal to me the truth? CHAPTER VI. The Gathering of the Cloud* "Mr. Gregg,” exclaimed the girl with agitation, as she put forth her blackgloved hapd, "I—l suppose you know —you’ve heard all about the discovery today at the wood? I need not tell you anything about it.” "Yes, Miss Leithcourt. I only wish you would tell me about It." I said gravely, inviting her to a chair and seating myself. Who is the man?" "Ah! that we don’t know.” she replied, pale-faced and anxious. "I wanted to see you alone —that’s the reason I am here. They must not know at home here.” “Why, is there any service I can render you?" "Yes. A very great one,3 she responded with quick eagerness, “I—well —the fact is, I have summoned courage to come to you and beg of you to help me. 1 am in great distress —and I have not a single friend whom I can trust—in whom I can confide.”

Her lips moved nervously, but no sound came' from them, so agitated was she, so eager to tell me something; and yet at the same time reluctant to take me into her confidence. ••It concerns the terrible discovery made up in Rannoch wood,” she said in a hoarse, nervous Voice at last “That unknown man was murdered — stabbed to the heart I have suspicions.” “Of the murdered man’s Identity?” "No. Of the assassin. I want you to help me, if you will.” “Most certainly,” I responded. “But if you believe you know the assassin you probably know something of the victim ?” "Only that he looked like a foreigner.” "Then you have seen him?” I exclaimed, much surprised. My remark caused her to hold her breath for an instant. Then she answered, rather lamely, it seemed to me: “From his features and complexion I guessed him to be an Italian. I saw him after the keepers had found him." “Besides,” she went on, “the stiletto was evidently an Italian one, which would almost make it appear that a foreigner was the assassin.” “Is that your own suspicion?” “No.” "Why?" She hesitated a moment, then in a low, eager voice she said: "Because I have already seen that knife in another person’s possession." “Then what is your theory regarding the affair?” I inquired. "It seems certain that the poor fellow went to the wood by appointment, and was killed. The affair interested me, and as soon as I recognized the old Italian knife in the hand of the keeper, I went up there and looked about. lam glad I did so, for I found something which seems to have escaped the notice of the detectives.” “And what’s that?" I asked eagerly.

“Why, about three yards from the pool of blood where the unfortunate foreigner was found is another small pool of blood where the grass and ferns around are all crushed down as though there had been a struggle there.’*- ———— “There may have been a struggle at that spot, and the man may have staggered some distance before he fell dead." “Not if he had been struck in the heart, as they say. He would fall, would he not?” she suggested. “No. The police seem very dense, and this plain fact has not yet occurred to them. Their theory is the same as what you suggest, but my own is something quite different, Mr. Gregg. I belidve that a second person also fell a victim,” she added In a low, distinct tone. I gazed at her open-mouthed. Did she, I wondered, know the actual truth? Was she aware that the woman who had fallen therd had disappeared? “A second person!" I echoed, as though in surprise. “Then do you believe that a double murder was committed?" “I draw my conclusion from the fact that the young man, on being struck in the heart, could not have gone such a distance as that which separates the one mark from the other.” “But he might have been slightly wounded—on the hand, or in the sac at first, and then at the spot where he was found struck fatally,” I suggested. She shook her head dubiously, but made no reply to my argument. Her confidence in her own surmises made it quite apparent that J>y some unknown means she was aware of the second victim. Indeed, a few moments later she said to me: "It is for this reason, Mr. Gregg, that I have sought you in confidence. Nobody must know that I have come here to you, or they would suspect; and if suspicion fell upon me it would bring upon me a fate worse than death. Remember, therefore, that my future is entirely in your hands." “I dpn’t quite understand,” I said, rising and standing before her in the fading twilight, while the rain drove upon the old diamond window panes. “But I can only assure you that whatever confidence you repose in me, I shall never ahum. MUs Lelthcourt.”

*1 know, 1 know!" she said quick*. *T trust you in this matter implicitly., I have come to you for many reasons, chief of them being that if a second victim has fallen beneath the hand of the assasifi, it is, I know, a woman." "A woman! Whom?” "At present I carfnot tell you. I must first establish the facts. If this' woman were really stricken down,, then her body lies concealed somewhere in the vicinity. We must find it and bring home the crime to the guilty one." "But if we succeed in finding it, could we place our hand upon the assassin?” I asked, looking straight at her. "If we find it, the crime would then tell its own tale —it would convict tho person in whose hand I have seen that fatal weapon,” was her clear, bold answer. "Then you wish me to assist you in this search, Miss Leithcourt? My search may bring suspicion upon me. It will be difficult to examine the whole wood without arousing the curiosity of somebody—the keeper or the police.” "I have already thought of that." she said. "1 will pretend tomorrow to lose this watch bracelet in the wood,” and she held up her slim wrist to show me the little enameled watch set in her bracelet. “Then you and I will search for it diligently, and the police will never suspect the real reason of our investigation. Tomorrow I shall write to you telling you about my loss, and you will come over to Rannoch and offer to help me." I was silent for a moment

"Is Mr. Woodroffe back at the castle? I heard he was to return today.” "No. I had a letter from him from Bordeaux a week ago. He is still on the continent. I believe, Indeed, he has gone to Russia, where he sometimes has business.” "I asked you the question, Miss Muriel, because I thought if Mr. Woodroffe were here he might object to our searching in company," I explained, smiling. Her cheeks flushed slightly, as though confused at my reference to her engagement, and she said mischievously: “I don’t see why he should obfwct in the least If you are good enough to assist me to search for my bracelet he surely ought to be much obliged to you.” (TO BE CONTINUED.)

NEW METHODS IN WHALING

Old-Fashioned Harpoon Has Been Diecarded for the Most Modern of Deadly Weapons. In early days the wooden sailing ships engaged in the whaling industry in southern seas pursued only right whales and sperm whales, or cachalots. The so-called “tinners,” such as the blue whale, the largest animal in the world; the tinner whale; the small fish whale; and the humpback, were all too active, and sank too quickly when killed. But their turn has now come, for the modern whale gun is a finely fashioned cannon, the harpoon carries a shell, and the body of the whale is kept afloat by Inflating it with air through pipes from the engine room of the whaler. The rendering is now done in a factory on shore, or in a special large vessel moored in the harbor. Besides the whalebone, which no longer pays well or at all, and the oil, which is graded into qualities as it comes from the blubber, the fat of the tongue and kidneys, the flesh and bones and the refuse, there remain the dried flesh and bones, which are now also put to commercial use. The absolutely fresh flesh is used to make whale-meat meal, a nutritious and wholesome foodstuff that is largely fed to cattle. From the remaining flesh and about a third of the bones whale guano is made, and from the bones alone bone meal. The largest whaling business in the world is now conducted in the Falkland islands and their dependencies. The season begins in November, and lasts until the end of April, and the average production of oil is nearly half a million barrels; of guano, 8,375 tons. The industry gives employment to about 3,500 men. —Youth’s Companion.

Handles Grow Crooked.

The Japanese are expert in the patient work needed in gardening, and it is from the Japanese farmers on the Pacific coast that most of the wood is sent for use as umbrella handles. Twisted handles were formerly bent laboriously by steaming the wood to make it flexible, but the Japanese force the pretzels and other twists in the growing plant which by a system of pruning is forced to nourish the distorted twigs, the whole process taking three years before they are ready for the manufacturer to strip and polish, or to use bark and all.

Darwin Relics.

The late William Erasmus Darwin, who was a son of Charles Darwin, recently left a number of relics of his famous father to his nephew, with the request that they be kept nently in the possession of the Darwin’family. These relics, include the family portraits, many medals that had been presented to his father, the letter written home by him while on the “Beagle” expedition and two early sketches of “The Origin of Species.” —Scientific American.

No Late Hours There.

Guest —What possessed you to mare away off here to the extreme edge otf the city? Host —The trolley can stop running at 10 p. m. “What at thatr “Walt till you see my pretty dangb taro”—Now York Weakly,

HIS PERFECT WIFE

By WILL ADAMS.

George Anderson Davis looked out of his office window and saw a man and a woman walking up the street. The couple passed from view, and the fist of George Anderson Davis came down on the table with a thud. "By Jove! That’s the twentieth couple I’ve given a wedding present to in the last ten years.” “Twenty wedding presents, and fifteen silver mugs marked ’Baby, and nothing to show for it, not even a baby named for me, by Jove!" Georges- Anderson. Davis picked up his pen and continued his writing "Old Hicka thinks he has the only wifdt They all think that, I suppose,” was his inward comment. “But I wouldn’t let my wife dress like that.” The words, "My wife,” struck him. He had never used them before. Somehow he liked them, they sounded proprietary. “By Jove! I ought to have a wife.” The fist struck the table the third time. “I’m ten years older than Hicks, and he has one.” A peculiar smile played over the face of George Anderson Davis. He closed his desk with a bang. He was a man of quick decision.

“And I’ll have one inside of thirty days—by Jove, I will! Every man ought to have a wife.” But when on the street a new thought assailed George Anderson Davis. "Whom should he marry?” George Anderson Davis had an excellent opinion of George Anderson Davis. His wife must be perfection —good and. sweet, of course, but domestic, intelligent, stylish and beautiful aq well. “I’ll build the finest house in town, by Jove, and I want a wife to suit it. if I have to go to Europe to find her.” After supper at the boarding house Anderson asked Margaret Allen to take a walk with him. He wanted to talk to somebody, and she was a nice quiet girl who wouldn’t offer suggestions like the other boarders. Margaret was not surprised that Mr. Davis was going to be married. George Anderson Davis went to bed feeling good. It was just as Margaret had said, he could get any girl he wanted. Margaret was a real nice girl anyway; too bad she didn’t have any style about her. He would send her some post cards While on his trip. George Anderson Davis notified the firm the next day that he would leave Monday for his vacation. “Just a little wedding trip, boys!”

At the little mountain hotel George Anderson Davis walked wearily to the far end of the porch and lit a cigar Several people at the other end seemed to be having a good time. It irritated him, people made such idiots of themselves, especially girls. They giggled so they made him nervous. George Anderson Davis had been everywhere, New York, to Niagara and to California, and all the girls were the same; they made him sick. George Anderson Davis was disgusted; he was* going home. The blooming little fools could have all the wedding presents, and the silver mugs, too. As fbr him, he was through with matrimony. He flicked the ashes from his cold cigar and felt for a match. He had nc match at all —even in his vest pocket. He smiled at the appropriateness ol it Someone came softly across the porch and sat down near him. It was quite dark, and he could not see the intruder, but* a sweet voice called "Mother!” George Anderson Davis started suddenly. That voice had a familiar ring It reminded him of home. “Here, mother!” That sweet vdfce was mysteriously near him, his pulse quickened, he sat and waited. "All right, Margaret!” Margaret Allen! Like an electric shock It flashed over him. He was at her side In an instant. “Margaret, you here?” ' “Why, Mr. Davis, you?” He assured her that it was he, and Ke was very glad to find her here also George Anderson Davis had traveled far, the world was disappointing. He was tired. It was good to meet some one from home. It Seemed to him that Margaret always had a way oi being in the right place at the right time. “Is Mrs. Davis with you?” inquired Margaret. Davis laughed and caught the girl’s hand. "No, and lam glad she isn’t. I want to talk to you.” She slipped her hand away from his with a soft little “Oh!" The sweet intelligence of that remark pleased George Anderson Davis. He caught her hand again. And because Margaret was a very good girl, and George Anderson Davis a very old friend, she didn’t remove it > And then —the world slipped millions of miles away. The hotel lights were as. stars in the heavens, George and Margaret were alone, and the moon kept watch. George Anderson Davis looked into eyes—not found in California. He touched soft brown curls—unknown in New York. And he was thrilled —as Niagara never thrills.

It is our belief that- a man has just as much right to spend his hard-earned money 'for cigars as his wife has to