Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 41, Number 205, 15 July 1916 — Page 8

PAGE TEN

THE RICHMOND PALLADIUM AND SUN-TELEGRAM, SATURDAY, JULY 15, 1916 t Eastern Indiana's Only Daily Magazine of Features

"THE

RON (PLAW"

BY ARTHUR STRINGER

FIRST EPISODE. On Windward Island. The sea wind riffled the shallower channel waters and struck inland to cool the heat-haked dunes of Windward Island. On the most westerly Hp of that island a man and a womau stood star Ing across the beryl-tinted sea-arm to where the shores of South Carolina 1ay low and dim In the distance. "You were not made for a life like his," Baid the man. "It's the only life I've known for lne long years," she answered, withut looking at him. She was still a young woman. "And it's th only life you ever will ' now," he declared with sudden boldess, "if you refuse to wake up to ; he fact that your husband Is mad. No ane man brings a woman to an island :ike this and spends the best years f his life looking for a nitrate mine ;hat never existed." "And that nitrate, dear lady, was ilanted there by Golden himself. For your husband is deceiving you deceiving you the same as he deceives l hat army of negro workers. That irmy digs in the sand, acre by acre, veek by week and month by month, but Golden never even expected to find x nitrate mine." "I think I regret only the day that brought you to Windward Island," she luletly replied as their eyes met. "Only signora, that light may bring you liberty! But listen; if you doubt me, I merely ask that you hand me your husband's keys. Then I will bring to you a bag of this Chilean nitrate that he keeps hidden away in 'his inner study, that he scatters about in the plantation sands to salt his famous mine with. You hesitate, naturally. But If this Is not true, why should that inner room be sot jealously locked and guarded?" "It is cuarded only ' because the

Golden Jewels axe kept there," was the triumphant retort "Jewels worth . king's ransom!"' t m ' The master 'of Wjdward Island pased back and forth, stopping only for a moment to bark out a word or two at the negro- servant who stopped deferentially before him for orders. His face relaxtd, however, as little Margory crept to his side and took his hand. Golden leaped to his feet. The sound of voices came to his ear. Creeping forward he cautiously parted the branches. Palidori stood gazing down into his wife's eyes. "I cannot give you the key," he heard her say. "My husband has it." "Then what can we do?" asked the Italian. "I will give it 'to you tonight. It will be safer then," -was the quavering answer. "Then you must give me more than the key," murmured Palidori. Late that night the master of Windward Island overpowered Palidori, threw him Into a dungeon, broke his arm and branded him with a hot iron. He ordered his wife out of the house. : "Mlata. the sea.'s gwlne to git us!-" panted the black. "What do you mean by that?" the master of the ma nor barked. , "Someone's done opened all the sluice gates. The sea's a-fioodin the island." "My God, It's true!" said the planter as he looked over the island. Then he began to look for his wife, but to no avail. He saw a boat bear down on a cotton-shed, tear his daughter Margory from a negro's arm. ! "My child they will kill it," cried the planter. : Open laughter showed on Palidori's sinister face, as with his sound arm he held the struggling figure In white plose to his side. ' "Have no fear of that," he called back across the nwlrling water, as his bearded confederate bent to the oars.

"She will live. But she will live in a way that will leave you praying she had died!" Twelve Year Later. Casavantl, the cadet, was a firm

upholder of the pregnancy of apparel. He even reveled in his appellative of

the Beau Nash of the Tenderloin. His clothes were of the latest cut A servant ushered in a visitor. "Who sent this?" demanded Casavantl as he took a note from bis visitor's hand. "Legar," was the answer. The cadet puffed languidly at a cigaret as he opened the note and real it. "The girl I spoke of will come tonight at 12. You will find her a flower that is ripe for the picking. And once the flower gets in your hands I want it kept there Jules." "Did anyone see you come here?" he asked. "Not that I was wise to," was Slim's reply. Slim Legato kept a weather eye open as he emerged to the street. It was not until he had reached the curb that a closed limousine ten paces away from him. Slim drew up, blinking suspiciously at the vehicle. Then he blinked even harder, for from the open door of the limousine a gloved hand had unmistakably beckoned to him. Slim decided to advance with . caution. Yet before It passed from his reach the gloved hand had thrust into his own an envelope. On this envelope was clearly inscribed: "Dr. Ludwig Palidori, Care of Jules Legar," and beneath these words Slim'B bewildered eyes made out the unmistakable emblem of a laughing mask. On a single Bheet of paper he found written the cryptic words: "Remember the hammer of God, which smites, and . crushes whom it smites." Slim showed the message to Legar, head of the gangsters whose headquarters were at the Owl's nest. When Cassacantl saw the girl, still in her teens,, he admitted that she was a flower. "Come here," he commanded. . But she still stood gazing wonder- j ingly about the room. A suspicion that all was not as it should be had) crept over her. "Why was I sent here?" she de

manded, as Cassavanti stepped closer to her. ' "For this,, he replied, as with a sudden movement his arms went out and encompassed her shrinking body. She fought and struggled in that contaminating embrace. Cassavanti cupped

his impassioned lips over her parted lips. It was several seconds before he lifted his head. Before he did so, however, the closet door on his right opened and a figure stepped noislessly Into the

room. It was the figure of a man who wore a laughing mask. In his hand he carried a revolver. And this revolver was leveled neatly at the cadet's temple as Cassavanti raised his head, his jaw dropping with sheer wonder. "One word, you hound, and it's your last!" said the quiet-toned voice behind the mask. But the revolver remained pointed at Cassavanti's head as the stranger took the girl's hand and backed slowly toward the hall door. He groped for the door handle, leveled his weapon and still watched Casavanti. But the door was locked. Perplexed, for one second, he turned and looked for the key. But In that instant the tense-limbed Casavanti saw his Chance and leaped for his enemy. The force of that impact sent the mysterious intruder staggering against the wall and the revolver itself clattering across the floor. Hurrying steps and voices were already sounding from outside the locked door and Casavanti, knowing the slimness of his : chances, was battling like a wild cat. But the man in the mask, with a quite unexpected movement, brought into play the familiar jujitsu trick of catapulting an adversary over his own shoulder, depending on the force of the fall alone for any final result. "Quick," he gasped to the girl, for the enemy was already pounding and battering the locked door. "I came in that way, so you can go out by it. Cross the roof to the next house, go down to the street door and I will meet you there! But, hurry! Whatever you do, hurry!" A moment later he had crossed to

the next house front and thrown open the street door. That young woman stared at him with wondering eyes. "Who are you?" she demanded. "I'm only a hammer," was the suddenly sobered reply. "The Hammer of God." (To Be Continued.)

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Helen and Warren; Their Married Life By MRS. MABEL HERBERT URNER Originator of "Their Married Life," "Author of "The Journal of a Neglected Wife," "The Woman Alone," Etc

"Oh, yes, easily. Stand still; let me finish pinning up this side." The dusk was deepening, and the solitary gas jet gave only a feeble light. "Oh, wait! The woman in the front room has an oil lamp she said I could borrow it any time." Laura darted out and returned with a greasy, green-shaded student's lamp. It spluttered and smelled, but gave a better light than the gas jet. Helen, still with her coat on, basted the hem, while Laura hurriedly draped the. velvet from her old hat over the new buckram frame. "I didn't think they'd want me before eight, or I wouldn't have torn up my only hat." "What are you going to do about dinner," demanded Helen.

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Chocolate Cream Pie

By CONSTANCE CLARKE.

TO make good pastry requires practice andcare, good floor and 4he best shortening thoroughly Chined: it should be touched as lightly as possible, made with cool hands; and. In- a cool place. Puff paste requires a brisk oven, but not too hot. French puff paste- used for this pie Is made as follows: Take equal quantities ot flour and butter onebalf pound of each; put the flour on the paste board, work lightly into it half a cup of butter, And then make a hole in the centre. Into this well put the yolk of an egg, a little salt, then make it into a paste with cold, water; knead up the paate quickly

and' lightly and roil It out. Line a pie. pan with the paste, and bake in a quick oven. When, cold till this pie crust' shell with, the chocolate custard. CHOCOLATE CUSTARD Bring two cupfuls of milk to the boil In a double boiler; then take from, the fire and add a half cup of sugar, yolks of two eggs which have been beaten together to a cream, two squares of chocolate melted; replace on the stave and stir until smooth and' creamy, add one-fourth cup of cornstarch dissolved in a little milk, stir all the time; add one tablespoonful of vanilla and pour into the baked pie-crust shell; when cold cover with a. thick layer of whipped cream.

There's no time for

"Do without.

dinner." "Yes, and you'll ruin your health," severely, "living in this cold room with half enough to eat. No, I'm not going to preach," hastily. "Now try this on and see if it hangs even." W'hile Laura slipped on the gown, Helen spread a paper on the end of the table, and brought in from the window sill the milk and butter. "Where can I find a knife," as she started to butter the crackers. "Open that washstand drawer. Oh, there's a jar of peanut butter." Peanut-butter sandwiches and a generous glass of milk are not an unnourishing meal, and while they sewed Laura munched at it with relish. By six o'clock the hem was finished and pressed and the la6t hurried stitches put into the hat. But It was an hour's trip to the studio; there was no time to spare. Dragging out a suit case, Laura folded into it the gown, a pair of soiled satin slippers and a make-up box. "Oh, I must take that lamp back and put away those ironing things." "You hurry on I'll straighten up. The lamp goes in the next room, doesn't it? And the ironing things under the bed? NO, I WANT to do it!" "All right," getting into her coat. "This is a new director, and I feel that I'll do some good work tonight. Maybe this'll be the 'start" Then, as she kissed Helen gratefully, "You're a dear and was horrid about the preaching!" Helen waited at the top of the stairs until Laura disappeared In the black abyss below. Then with real zest she started in to straighten up. The lunch and ironing things disposed of, she returned the lamp, picked up the sewing scraps, hung Laura's clothes on the curtained door, and dusted as best she could with some crumpled tissue paper. With n satisfied glance about the now orderly room, she lowered the' gas to a bead, and groped her way down the four flights of unlit stairs. Outside a flurry of snow flaked the air and a sharn wind swirled her

skirts. Holding her muff to her face, she hurried on. By the subway entrance was a huddled, shawl-covered old woman selling pencils. Dropping a dime into the claw-like hand. Helen felt a throb of

responsiveness for Laura's desperate struggle to get out of the rut, to make enough while she waa still young to escape a dependent old age. Even In her own warm, brightly-lit apartment, with the sound of Warren's cheerful whi&tlo as he washed up for dinner, there was a haunting persistency In Laura's paesionate: "What do they do when they're old? If they don't marry or die, what becomes of them? What work Is there for a penalleea woman of sixty?" -

PALLADIUM WANT AD3 PAY

"T wo Sisters''

Crown Roast of Lamb

By CONSTANCE CLARKE.

priKE; four or five pounds of Jk French chops cut in one piece, separate all tne ribs- without detaching them; roll the. piece into a crown shape, leaving the space in the centre, skewer up or tie with a string to keep the meat in good shape; place it In a baking pan with three tablespoonfuls of butter, one sliced carrot, one or two onions, a little celery, and a bunch of herbs, place the pan. on the stove and Jet the contents fry ten minutes; then add a cup of brown stock and put the' pan in the oven to roast, during which

time addsome more stock as thai in the pan reduces," and take care that the meat is kept basted well during the cooking. When cooked, take up the meat, and put, it on a hot .flat dish, fill the centre with cooked' green peas; serve with this salad: Cut turnips and potatoes into rounds with a small vegetable cutter, put each separately In cold water with a little salt, tiring to the boil, then strain and rinse In cold water, and put in boiling water to cook till tender. Strain, and when cold season with olive oil, white tarragon vinegar; cut tomatoes in small squares and season, then use.

MondayIf amburger Loaf,

WORKS FOR RELEASE OF SMELSER BOYS

Mrs. Elizabeth Candler, probation officer, is now working to have the Smelser children removed from White's institute and placed in a school for the feeble minded. ' These are the youngsters who not many weeks ago stole a horse and buggy and who robbed the matron of the Home for the Friendless.

CROWE DIRECTS CAMP

Fred Crowe, formerly of Richmond, and who has been with the Central Y. M. C. A. in Chicago for the past five years, has gone to Michillinda, Michigan where he will have charge of a summer camp. He was accompanied by 118 boys who made the trip with him by lake.

INFORMATION. "What are you fishingr for, my lad "Fish." "What kind of fish?" "Fresh."

Doirt worry

About Pimples

LOOKS FOR MINISTER

St. Paul's Episcopal church will make little effort to secure a new pastor during this warm weather, but the committee, is working hard to have one ready to assume charge when the cool fall weather sets in, George Dilks said today.

She had the short satisfaction of

seeing the man startled for an instant out of his calm air of indifference, but when he spoke it was in his usual courteous, unemotional voice. "It probably would fit any one of a thousand other women as perfectly as it does you sister," he replied "There are only three or four types of women and they all look about alike in print." He lit a cigarette and turned again to his desk. Caryl began her copying with' the humiliated and chagrined sensation of one who had been snubbed. When her task was finished she spoke again. "Is there anything else you wish me to do now, Mr. Delaine?" she asked formally, not raising her eyes from her machine. "No, I think not," the man answered, turning around from his desk and fac

ing her. "Except, Miss Marvin," he went on hesitatingly, "I would be glad if you would try to be a little more careful with your typing. The last

copy you did for me is not as well done as were some others I have had from you." Caryl flushed crimson with embarrassment and vexation. "If my work isn't satisfactory," she began hau'ily. But her employer interrupted her with a tolerant smile. "Yes, yes, I know! But you see, may be I couldn't get another stenographer who would suit me any better than you do. That is what you were going to say isn't it?" Then, as she did not reply, he continued, "Don't look angry about it. Miss Marvin. We all get careless at times, and most of us have to be willing to take suggestions with regard to our work even," with a half smile and shrug "people who write or scribble whichever you choose to call It. I wish," he added with more feeling in his tone than she had heard there before, "that you wouldn't look upon me as your natural enemy. I'm really a very harmless,, well-meaning person.

and I would be glad to help you in any way within my power. Just because you are doing my work for me doesn't mean that we can not be on pleasant terms, you know." "Thank you very much, Mr. Delaine," Caryl answered stiffly, still smarting under his mild rebuke. She did not glance in his direction as she arose, put on her hat and jacket, and, picking up her gloves, started to the door. "I wish you a very good morning," she then said, and, without waiting for a reply, left the room with a bearing that she tried to make haughty. If she could have seen the humorous gleam In Delaine's eyes as he watched her exit she would have added another to the long list of imaginary grudges which she cherished against her employer. (More Monday.)

How to Conquer Rheumatism at Your Own Home. "If you or any of your friends suffer from rheumatism, kidney disorders or excess of uric acid, causing lameness, backache, muscular pains; stiff, painful, swollen joints, pain in the limbs and feet; dimness of sight, itching skin or frequent neuralgic pains, I Invite you to send for a generous Free Trial Treatment of my well known, reliable Chronicure, with references and full particulars by mail. (This is no C. O. D. scheme.)- No matter how many may have failed in your ca:e. let me prove to you. free of cost, that rheumatism can be conquered. Chronicure succeeds where all else falls Chronicure cleanses the blood and removes the cause. Also for "a weakened, run-down condition of the system, you will find Chronicure a most satisfactory general tonic that makes you feel that life Is worth living. Please tell your friends of this liberal offer, and send today for large free package, to MRS. M. SUMMERS, 131 E. Washington Avenue, South Bend, Indiana. Adv.

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