Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 53, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 March 1916 — The THOUSANDTH WOMAN [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The THOUSANDTH WOMAN

By EPNEST W. HORNUNG

Author of -She AMATEUR CRACKSMAN. RAFFLES. Etc. tUUSIRAnONS T fry O.

SYNOPSIS. Cazalet. on the steamer Kaiser Frits. lHwn£war<J bound from Australia, cries out in his sleep that Henry Craven, who •on years before had ruined his father and himself, is' dead and finds that Hilton Toye. who shares the stateroom with kirn knows Craven and also Blanche Macnair, a former neighbor and playsaate. When the dally papers come aboard at Southampton Toye reads that Craven has been murdered and calls Casalet'a dream second sight. He thinks •f doing a little amateur detective work an the case himself. In the train to town they discuss the murder, which was committed at Cazalet’s old home. Toye hears from Cazalet that Scruton, who had been Cazalet’s friend and the. scapegoat for Craven's dishonesty, has been released firom prison. Cazalet goes down the ■fver and meets Blanche. CHAPTER V—Continued. He had floundered to his feet as well. He was standing over her, feeling his way like a great fatuous coward, so some might have thought. But tt really looked as though Blanche was not attending to what he did say; yet neither was she watching her little

anglers stamped in jet upon the silvery stream, nor even seeing any more of Nelly Potts in the Australian veranda. She had come home from Australia. and come in from the river, and ahe was watching the open door at the other end of the old schoolroom, listening to those confounded steps coming nearer and nearer—and Cazalet was gazing at her as though he really had said something that deserved an answer. “Why, Miss Blanche!” cried a voice. **And your old lady-in-waiting figured I ■should find you flown!” Hilton Toye was already a lands«nan and a Londoner from top to toe. He was perfectly dressed —for Bond Street —and his native simplicity of bearing and address placed him as surely and firmly in the present picture. He did not look the least bit out of it. But Cazalet jUd, in an instant; bis old bush clothes changed at once Into a merely shabby suit of despicable cut; the romance dropped out of them and their wearer, as he stood tike a trussed turkey-cock, and watched a bunch of hothouse flowers

presented to the lady with a little gem ©f a natural, courteous, and yet characteristically racy speech. To the lady, mark you; for she was ®ne, on the spot; and Cazalet was a man again, and making a mighty effort to behave himself because the hour ®f boy and girl was over. "Mr. Cazalet,” said Toye, “I guess you want to know what in thunder Fm doing on your tracks so soon. It’s hog-luck, sir, because I wanted to see you quite a lot, but I never thought Td strike you right here. Did you hear the news?" “No! What?” There was no need to Inquire as to the class of news; the immediate past had come back with Toye into Cazalet’s life; and even in Blanche’s pres•©nce, even in her schoolroom, the old days had flown into their proper place and size in the perspective. "They’ve made an arrest," said Toye; and Cazalet nodded as though

Be had quite expected it, which .set Blanche off trying to remember something he had said at the other house; But she had not succeeded when she noticed the. curious pallor of his chin and forehead. "Scruton?” he just asked. "Yea, sir! This morning,” said Hilton Toye. “You don't mean the poor man. cried Blanche, looking from one to the •ther “Yes, he does," said Cazalet gloomily. He stared out aJt the river, seeing nothing in his turn./though one of the anglers was actually busy with h s serf. ) “But I thought/ Mr, Scruton was •till—” Blanche remembered him, remembered dancing with him; she did (rj -He came out the other day,” sighed Casalet. "But how like the police all «ver! Give a dog a bad name, and trust them to hunt it down and shoot tt at sight!" *1 judge it's not m bad as all that in this country,” said Hilton Toye -That's »or« like the police theory

about Seruton, I guess, bar drawtag the bead.” “When did you hear of it?” said Cazalet. “It was on the tape at the Savoy when I got there. So I made an inquiry, and I figured to look in at the Kingston Court on my way to call upon Miss Blanche. You see, I was kind of interested in all you’d told me about the case.” “Well?” “Well, that was my end of the situation. As luck and management would have it between them, I was in time to hear your man— * “Not my man, please! You thought of him yourself,” said Cazalet sharply. "Well, anyway, I was in time to hear the proceedings opened against him. They were all over in about a minute. He was remanded till next week.” "How did he look?” and, “Had he a beard?” demanded Cazalet and Blanche simultaneously. “He looked like a sick man,” said

Toye, with something more than his usual deliberation in answering or asking questions. “Yes, Miss Blanche, he had a beard worthy of a free citizen.” "They let them grow one, if they like, before they come out,” said Cazalet, with the nod of knowledge. “Then I guess he was a wise man not to take it off,” rejoined Hilton Toye. “That would only prejudice his case, if it's going to be one of identity, with that head gardener playing lead in the witness-stand.” “Old Savage!” snorted Cazalet. “Why, he was a dotard in our time; they couldn’t hang a dog on his evidence!" “Still,” said Blanche, “I’d rather have it than circumstantial evidence, wouldn’t you, Mr. Toye?” “No, Miss Blanches 1 would not,” replied Toye, with unhesitating candor. “The worst evidence in the world, in my opinion, and I’ve given the matter some thought, is the evidence of identity.” He turned to Cazalet, who had betrayed a quickened interest in his views. "Shall I tell you why? Think

how often you’re not so sure if you have seen a man before or if you never have! You kind of shrink from nodding, or else you nod wrong; if you didn’t ever have that feeling, then you’re not like any other man I know.” “I have!” cried Cazalet. “I’ve had it all my life, even in the wilds; but I never thought of it before.” “Think of it now,” said Toye, “and you’ll see there may be flaws in the best evidence of identity that money can buy. But circumstantial evidence can’t lie, Miss Blanche, if you get enough of it. If the links fit in, to prove that a certain person was in a certain place at a certain time, I guess that’s worth all the oaths of all the eye-witnesses that ever saw daylight!” Cazalet laughed harshly, as for no apparent reason he led the way into the garden. “Mr. Toye’s made a study of these things,” he fired over his shoulder. “He should have been a Sherlock Holmes, and rather wishes he was one!” o “Give me time,” said Toye, laughing. “I may come along that way yet,” Cazalet faced him in a frame of tangled greenery. "You told me you wouldn’t!” ——- “I did, sir, but that was before they put salt on this poor old crook. If you’re right, and he’s not the man, shouldn’t ..you say that rather altered the situation ?”

CHAPTER VI. Voluntary Service. "And Why do. you think he can’t have done it?” Cazalet had trundled the‘old canoe over the rollers, and Blanche was hardly paddling in the glassy strip alongside the weir. Below the leek there had been something to do, and Blanche had done it deftly and silently, with almost equal capacity and grace. It had given her a charming flush and sparkle; and, what with the sun’s bare hand on her yellow hair, she now looked even bonnier than indoors, yet not quite, quite such a girl. But then every bit of the boy had gone out of £azalet. So that hour stolen from the past was up forever.

‘'Why do the police think the other thing?” he retorted. “What have they got to go on? That’s what I want to know. I agree with Toye in one thing.” Blanche looked up quickly. “1 wouldn’t trust old Savage an inch. Tve been thinking about him and his previous evidence. Do you realize that it’s quite dark now soon after seven? It was pretty thick saying his man was bareheaded, with neither hat nor cap left behind to prove it! Yet now it seems he's put a beard to him, and next we shall have the color of his - \ -.... Blanche laughed at his vigor of phrase; this was more like the old, hot-tempered, sometimes rather overbearing Sweep. Something had made him jump to the conclusion that Scrutpn could not possibly have killed Mr. Craven, whatever else he might have done In days sone by. So it) simply

was Impossible, and anybody, who took the other side would have to reckon henceforth»with Sweep Cazalet, Mr. Toye already had reckoned with him, in a little debate -begun outside the old summer schoolroom at Little ford, and -adjourned—rather than fin Ished at the iron gate into the road. In her heart of hearts Blanche could not say that Cazalet had the best of the argument. Toye had advanced a general principle with calni ability, bui Cazalet could not be shifted from the particular position he was so eager to defend, and would only enter into abstract questions to beg them out of hand. — r —

Blanche rather thought that neither quite understood what the other meant; but she could not blink the fact that the old friend had neither the dialectical mind nor the unfailing courtesy of the new. That being so, with her perception she might have changed the subject; but she could see that Cazalet was thinking of nothing else; and no wonder, since they were approaching the scene of the tragedy and his own old home, with each long dip of her paddle.

It had been his own wish to start upstream; but she could see the wistful pain in his eyes as they fell once more upon the red turrets and the smooth green lawn of Uplands; and she neither spoke nor looked at him again until he spoke to her. “I see they’ve got the blinds down still.” he said detachedly. “What's happened to Mrs. Craven?” “I hear she went into a nursing home before the funeral.” “I expect we should find Savage somewhere. Would you very much

mind, Blanche? I should rather like — if it was just setting foot —with you—” But even that effective final pronoun failed to bring any buoyancy back into his voice; for it was not in the least effective as he said it, and he no longer looked her in the face. But this all seemed natural to Blanche, in the manifold and overlapping circumstances ot the case. She made for the inlet at the upper end of the lavra. And her prompt unquestioning acquiescence shamed Cazalet into further and franker explanation, before he could let her land to please him. “You don't know bow I feel this!” he exclaimed quite miserably. “I mean about poor old Scruton; he’s gone through so much as it is, whatever he may have done to deserve it long ago. Is it conceivable that he should go and do a thing like this the very moment he gets out? I ask you, is it even conceivable?” Blanche understood him. And now she sho wed herself golden to the core, - almost as an earnest of her fitness for the fires before her. “Poor fellow,” ah® cried, “he has a friend in you, at any rate! And I’ll help you to help him, if there’s any way I can.” He clutched her hand, but only as he might have clutched a man’s.” “You can’t do anything; but I won’t forget that,” he almost choked. “I meant to stand by him in a very different way. He’d been down to the depths, and I’d come up a bit; then he was good to me as a lad, and it was. my father’s partner who was the ruin of him. I seemed to owe him something, and now —now I’ll stand by him whatever' happens and —whatever has happened! ” „ Then they landed in the old, old inlet. Cazalet knew every knot in the post to which) he tied Blanche’s canoe. It was a very different place, this Uplands, from poor old Lit tieford on the lower reach. The grounds were five or six acres instead of about one, and a house in quite another class stood farther back from the river and very much farther from the road. The inlet began the western boundary, which continued past the boathouse in the shape of a high hedge, a herbaceous border (not what it had been in the old days), and a gravel path. This path was screened from the lawn by a bank of rhododendrons, as of course were the back yard and kitchen premises, past which it led into the front garden, eventually debouching into the drive. It was the path along which Cazalet led the way this afternoon, and Blanche at his heels was so struck by something that she couldnot help telling him he knew his way very well. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

Diplomacy. “Look here, Charlie,” said one young undergrad to another, who had been asked to run his eye oyer a letter whichhis friend had written" to his father, in which there was the inevitable request for money, “you’ve spelled jug, gu-g!" “I know,” said Charlie; “but you see T need the cash and don’t want the old man to think I'm putting on airs. That’s how he spellsit”

“Mr. Cazalet," Said Toye, "I Guess You Want to Know What I’m Doing on your Track.”

He Clutched Her Hand, but Only as He Might Have Clutched a Man’s.