MAN WIT
I F TI TF1 '
The Bride of
THE man was English; that was
evident at first glance. Moreover
he wan of that ubiquitous type of
sneering, fault-finding Britisher whose
favorite tipple has won him, in the far
East, the approbrious title of "lime
'. Juicer." The woman well, we had
j more difficulty in classifying her. The
accent and the clothes were English
beyond the possibility of the most
charitable error. But the piquant, sad
face, the soulful brown eyes, the
cheeks of - dark but wholesome and
I even color, the full red lips, the small
and delicately moulded features, these
I were legacies perhaps of French an-
cestC'rs. more likely tokens of that
' conglomerate strain now called the
I American type, but English, never.
Of course, being men. it was the
woman who first and more greatly In
terested Carlton Clarke and myself
when we encountered the couple, the
first morning out of Chicago, on the
observation platform of the Los An
geles limited. The Interest was par
donable for. although on this long
planned vacation to Uncle Sam's
amusement park, the Yellowstone, we
had promised ourselves to forget ab-
I solutely all mysteries and their soiu
j tion. telepathic, occult, deductive or
I otherwise, we could not refrain from
indulging In a little harmless specula
f tlon concerning the only two persons
I In the train's company who seemed
' to possess any possible degree of hu
man Interest.
Acquaintanceships are not so neces
1 sary nor so easily formed on trans
' continental trains as on transatlantic
f liners, and so we made no effort to
' penetrate the reserve with which
' "Ixrd and Lady Labels," the title
their luggage suggested to us. chose
to surround themselves. Nor was
thejr reserve more impenetrable than
our own.
True, had we so wished we might
; ha-e broken the ice with my lord con
i cernlng a certain prizefight soon -to
' take place In San Francisco between
a famous negro and an equally re
doubtable Danish American and
; which we heard him excitedly discuss-
ing with George, the porter. But even
! had we not been sufficient unto our
! selves I would have been loath to dls-
pel the aura of mystery with which I
j had invested the lady of the piquant
face and the dreamy eyes.
"They're from London. They came
by the Cunard line. That much is clear
' from their luggage," remarked Clarke.
' "Moreover they make a hurried trip
; from New York to Liverpool and
back again, according to the labels,
and I am inclined to believe the woman
acqmred her clothes and her accent
In this short space of time for I will
stake anything she is American. The
man Is a crook If I know anything of
physiognomy. 1 can't say just what
is wrong, but the overmastering char
acteristic In his face Is greed. Now
i I've satisfied your curiosity and I
hope you will leave me to my book."
But Clarke had not satisfied my
curiosity concerning the ill-assorted
pair. He had whetted It. ajid some
thing in the piquant face of the woman
annealed to me in a manner i would
1 have found difficult to analyze.
We had the drawing-room, and the
couple of mystery the stateroom ad
joining it- Consequently we frequently
met them face to face in the narrow
passageway while on our journeys to
and from the dining car or the oo
servatlon car. These meetings were
matters of silent formality In which
we flattened ourselves against the pol
Ished mahogany woodwork to allow
them to pass. And I could not help
but notice that whatever the order in
which thev approached the passage
way the husband always fell back and
compelled his wife to proceed. It
mieht have been mere politeness, but
whv did he alweys take the lead ex
cept when passing us? And why did
he watch her head so closely to see
that It turned neither to the right
nor to the left.
We passed thus many times during
the first day of the journey ana only
once was the usual order reversed.
Then the husband was so far In ad
vance that to have waited would have
been to make his object too apparent.
Or else he forgot his vigilance for the
moment and passed us looking
straight ahead and not acknowledging
our presence by so much as a "thank
you."
The wife followed, her eyes to the floor.
As she came opposite my elbow she
raised her head and gave me a look full
In the eyes, a look so full of helpless ap
peal that it startled me. I could do no
more than slightly bend my head when
the man glanced suspiciously around. The
eyes immediately fell to the floor again
and the Incident was as If It had not
happened.
The English couple were just coming
from the diner. We were on our way
from there in response to the last call for
dinner. We had the diner practically
to ourselves and I lost no time In telling
Clarke of the incident in the passageway.
"There's somethong wrong there, Clarke,
I'm sure of It."
"There certainly is when a pretty wife
gives a handsome fellow like you a rapid
fire glance in a dark passageway," ban
teringly returned Clarke.
"No," I returned earnestly. "There is
something seriously wrong. She needs
our help In some way and it's up to us to
find out. There' a mystery there to be
solved."
"My dear Sexton." yawned Clarke,
wearily. "Can't you divorce yourself from
the idea of work? This is a vacation. If
you must have material for what you call
your literary efforts, wait until we get to
the pank and then write a guide-book
of the Yellowstone. From those I have
read I am sure there Is a crying need for
a good one. I admit the woman might
be interesting were she alone, but the man
Is Impossible and as a family I refuse to
be Interested In them.'"
It was only a half hour afterward that
Clarke changed this view entirely and
found himself so vastly interested In the
mysterious English couple that' our va
cation, the Yellowstone and everything
else paled into Insignificance.
It was stifling hot. and when we had fin
ished our dinner we found the observation
platform, the .only place of comparative
comfort, already crowded.
"Let's go to our quarters, where we
can shed our clothes, turn on the electric
fan and be comfortable." I suggested.
Our drawing-room connected with the
stateroom of the English couple by a door
so that the two might on occasion be
thrown together en suite. This door bolt
ed on our side and I presume upon the
other also. We had removed most of
our garments and had settled down to
read and to be as comfo'rtable as possible
when our attention was attracted by a
stealthy scratching sound at the base of
this door.
"I looked down and saw the corner of an
envelope appear. I called Clarke's at
tention and we watched it until the entire
envelope, a long, white one, stuffed so full
of papers that it went under the door ,
Bein& the Chronicles of Carlton CIarKe;ielatho-Dcduetive
- - . A V ft a - 0 A
the Yellowstone
with difficulty, lay on the floor at our
feet. t
"Our pretty liasion progresses." whis
pered Clarke. "There is a billet doux for
you."
I hastily seized the envelope and emp
tied its contents on the reading table.
And then Clarke and I stared and gaped
In helpless and Idiotic astonishment. Be
fore us lay bonds of the United Zinc
Corporation to the value of J73O.000.
With them was a single sheet of m..
paner with the crest of the Los Angele
limited at the top. Clarke and I read It
silently.
"To Mr. Carlton Clarke: I am taking
wliat I believe to be the only course to
save these papers and my life. By the
time we reach Old Faithful Inn I hope to
devise some disposition to ask you to
make of them. Until then guard them
well. I know I can trust you. Destroy
this note at once. Lady Ethelbert Sniv
elv."
"Now, what do you. think of that?"
gasped in a whisper.
"What is the use of thinking?" answered
Clarke. "We will wait. Lady Snlvely,
you are a brilliant woman. You are
physiogonomist of the highest order. You
are taking an awful chance, but you have
put your trust In the right men. We will
be true to it and see this thing through
to the end." And Clarke took off his
traveling cap and gravely bowed toward
the door that separated us from the mys
tery beyond.
"And now. Sexton," he continued.
"there is but one course for me to pur
sue and that is to act is If nothing
has happened. It Is safe to say the
husband will not suspect us unless we
give him cause to do so. Nothing Is
likely to happen on this train, and the
next act of the drama is laid at Old
Faithful so we might as well possess
our souls In patience. '
When we met the English couple, or
Lord and Lady Snlvely as we now felt
privileged to call them, on the obser
vation platform the next morning we
could discern absolutely nothing dif
ferent in their manner toward each
other nor towards us than in previous
meetings. The husband seemed, as
usual, utterly wrapped up in his own
selfish self and oblivious to his wife
and to the other passengers on the
platform. Once Clarke caught the
woman's eye and a quick exchange
of telepathic glances passed between
them. Again I found ber eyes looking
Into mine when her husband's head
was turned and I tried with all the
power of my soul to make my eyes
say to her that all was well and that
we were on the-Job to the end. The
bonds were safely strapped Jn Clarke's
money belt, next to . his body, and.
without boasting, between the two of
us, I would have defied any six men
to take them away from him.
No further Incident occurred auring
the railroad journey and the state of
armed neutrality continued.
At Ogden we watched with interest
to be assured that the couple of mys
tery transferred to the Yellowstone,
It would have complicated matters
and been embarrassing If they had
gone one way. while we, with th
bonds, went another. Our routes were
the same, however, and when we
boarded the Short Line sleeper we
found them in the opposite section,
the staterooms having already been
pre-empted by a party of German
tourists.
After breakfast at Yellowstone sta
tion the next morning our entire party,
numbering about 60, were loaded into
the big M.-Y. stages for the 32-mlle
drive to the Upper Geyser basin and
Old Faithful Inn. Clarke and I had a
surrey to ourselves in charge of one
Bo Hughes. "Bo" being Yellowstone
slang for driver. We also traveled
"special." That is. we were relieved
from adhering to the regular schedule
laid down by the stage company.
What was infinitely more to my relief
we were spared, the company of Lord
and Lady Snively, who went in one
of the stages. Knowing what we did,
with the mystery of those three-quarters
of a million hanging over our
heads, their presence could not but
hav jarred upon the beautiful pano
rama of canyons, forests and dashing
mountain streams through which we
were passing. For my part I chose to
forget them and the mystery.
It was different with Clarke. Slower
than I to awaken to the mystery it
now absorbed his very being. I am
sure he saw none of the landscape
through which we pass ed and his mas
ter mind was busy with the problem.
After several vain endeavors to
draw his attention to the landscape
I left him to his thoughts, and taking
the front seat with Bo Hughes I
swallowed with avidity and apparent
arulliblilty his marvelous tales of
beavers, elk, bear and the other tame
wild animals of the park.
We reached the Fountain lunch sta
tion and the Lower Geyser basin in
advance of the rest of the party and
Clarke roused to his duty sufficiently
to walk out with me over the "forma
tion," as the acres of limestone de
posit made by the geysera Is officially
and technically known. Here again
we met my lord and lady when the
rest of the tourists came up, and were
grouped reverently in a circle to watch
the Fountain geyser play. Lady
Snlvely clapped her hands in glee as
the boiling water, throwing clouds of
seething steam, shot 60 feet into the
'"Isn't It marvelous!" she exclaimed.
Not a shade of trouble marked her
countenance. She was a wonderful
actress.
"All beastly rot. Just a lot of beast
ly steam and water coming out of a
beastly hole," said her cheerful hus
band, turning away with a disgust only
surpassed by that with which he in
spired every other member of the
company.
My heart beat a little faster as we
began the last nine-mile lap to the
Upper Geyser basin and Old Faithful
Inn. but I knew not what awaited us
so I put it out of my mind and leaving
to Clarke the thinking part. I again
took the front seat with the driver.
Bo Hughes had begun to Interest me.
He was a little chap, an ex-Jockey, and
he proudly boasted that he could still
ride at an even 100 without training.
He had been by turns a cow-puncher
and a horse-wrangler in the Winter
and a park driver In the Summer. He
was a wiry bundle of nerve and muscle
and if it came to a fight I Instinctively
discerned in him an ally not to be dls-
plsed.
The shadows or the western snow-
peaks were lengthening when we drew
up, in advance or the rest or the party,
again by virtue of our "special," before
the log portals of that wonderful piece
of forest architecture. Old faithful Inn.
I wae assigned to room 17 and Clarke
to room 18. Lord and Lady Snively fol
lowed us and drew No. 19. Whatever
the destiny that bound us together it
seemed unbroken.
Clarke went directly to his room.
but I was there to see the Yellowstone
and I resolved to do that at any price.
Ttf MM TJ?W
US CS .
Tl?r M9l
so I met Bo Hughes on his way from
ceeded over the
,.i,-i rmtlnn
of the Upper Geyser Basin before going
down to see Old Faithful, which was
scheduled to play at 6:30 o'clock by the
dial in front of the hotel.
This would be a dangerous place to
travel about on at night, -Bo," I said
to Hughes, aa we clambered up and
down the mounds of calcareous deposit.
between bottomless pools of boiling
water, peering down into the growling.
sulphurous depths of the "Lion and the
Cubs," threading the treacherous and
precipitous sides of the "Grotto," and
feeling beneath our feet the hollow
cruch of the, crust that seemed but a
thin partition between the beautiful
world above and the regions of the in
ferno beneath.
"You're mighty right," answered
Hughes. "I never knowed of but one
man that ever come over here at night
and he wandered out o' the hotel, drunk
er crazy er somethin.' and never showed
up no more. No. sir; I reckon there's
a devil a-ialtin' at the bottom of every
one o' these here holes with a hook.
Why, even the swatties, that's the eol
dlers, you know, what's detailed out
here, like that fellow over there, to see
that the tourists don't carry off none
o' the formation, they couldn't no more
be dragged out here at night than you
could get a cow-puncher to herd
sheep."
Then we went over to see "Old Faith
ful" go through its four-minute act,
and it was time to go in and dress for
dinner. Supposing Clarke was already
at his toilet I went directly to my room
and had begun the operation of shaving
when I heard a gentle tap at the door.
It was Clarke, and his face had a seri
ous look.
"Hurry through with your dressing,"
he said. "The English folks have gone
in to dinner, and I want to make our
hours agree with theirs. Sexton, I've
got the whole story, or nearly the
whole of it, and it's bad. Very bad.
I've no time to tell it all now, but' it
may be murder if we do not work fast
and carefully. And the worst of it is
that we can do nothing but wait and
watch. A man can say a good deal to
his wife before the law may Interfere,
and we are not even the law. By the
way, the architect who built that hotel
had a great eye to the picturesque but
very little Idea of privacy. See those
cracks between the logs. The acoustic
properties of the walls are perfect. But
hurry with your dressing and I will go
on in and keep an eye on our friends.
We must not let them get out of our
sight a minute."
It was all innocent enough at din
ner. My lady at the table next to ours
ohatted as Innocently and my lord
found fault and sneered as naturally
as if their lives were a printed page.
When the dinner was over they went
directly to their room and Clarke and I
disregarded the importunities of the
guide to go out and see "Old Faithful"
under the searchlight, and quietly let
ourselves into Clarke's room. It was
not long before I found that Clarke had.
Criminal ystencs. by frank lovell nelson.
lfif5 TM)5
- - -
Smi.OrYvWM
not spoken too highly of the acoustics
1 of the walls.
It was disgracefully HKe eavesoroji
ping on an ordinary lamuy row,
we Vnew that there was
someimns
back of all that possessed a vital In
terest for us
"It Isn't any use urging me any
further. Lord Snlvely," we heard the
woman say. "You will never get them
if I can help It. I only thank God
that T found vow outln time, though
t dnn'i aw whv It was not before I
married you."
"But my deah," drawled the hus
band, "you surely cawn't believe all
that beastly rot. Cawn't a fellow have
a beastly clipping in his' bag without
being a bloomin' crook? Haven't I
brought you out to this beastly hole
and given you everything you wanted."
"Y.es, with rny own money," inter
rupted the wife.
"And didn't I take you to London,"
continued my lord, unmindful of the
interruption, "when it was deuced In
convenient for . me to go, and now
you won't give me as much as a bob to
save me?"
"Yes, and why did you leave Lon
don so suddenly before we even saw
this castle that I am to take out of
pawn?"
"You know I couldn't stay in Lon
don another day with the beastly hay
fever coming on. Alice. Now. what
have you done with those papers?"
"Yes, I knew you had searched my
luggage, liar. Don't give yourself any
false hopes. You will never see them
again."
"Then " The sentence was lost In
a hiss of rage.
"Oh, yes. I know you are perfectly
capable of killing me just as you did
those other women."
She was interrupted by a snarl of
rage from my lord and I thought for a
moment that we were going to have to
rush in and take a hand then and
there, but they quieted down and the
talk drifted into commonplaces.
"Merely a repetition of what I heard
this afternoon." whispered Clarke. "It
seems to be their stock conversation.
I wonder . No. it can't be him. He
wouldn't be so bold."
Clarke was talking to himself now
and so I slipped out and took a stroll
about the mammoth rotunda of' the
hotel. I encountered Bo Hughes at the
drinking fountain and we sat down
over a cigar while I reveled in- his
picturesque conversation. Either it
was Bo Hughes' powers of description
or something soporific in the cigars I
had consumed, but I forgot a,bout
Clarke- and the drama we were watch
ing, until I was suddenly recalled to
my duty by noticing that the guests
had slipped away to their rooms and
we were alone in the cavernous ro
tunda with the exception of the sleepy
clerk at the desk. -
Asking Bo to come with me I rose
to go back to Clarke's room, when a
shawled and veiled figure stole down
the corridor and out the doorway. It
was the English woman. She had
gone but a few minutes when the fig
ure of a man followed. I drey J3o
er-- y
back into the shadow, that he might
I not see us. It was Lord Snlvely. I
was tiptoeing down the corridor to
apprise Clarke when his figure loomed
out of the shadow, and, motioning Bo
and me to follow, he slipped out the
door in the rear of the mysterious
couple.
No moon was shining, but the night
was clear and the light from the stars
was equal to that of the moon in a
lesser altitude or in an atmosphere
less clear. We saw the figure of the
woman walking briskly. About a hun
dred yards behind her came the roan.
An equal distance behind him we
closed up the rear.
At the right "Old Faithful" was shoot
ing steam and water a hundred and
fifty feet Into the air. Behind us tow
ered the gigantic outlines of the inn, a
light here and there along Its rugged
facade.
"'Great guns, she's making for the
formation! It's suicide," I whispered.
We reached the edge of the treach
erous sea of alternate limestone and
boiling water. There, already far out
upon it, was the woman dashing blindly
and heedlessly along with instant and
awful death on either side of her. Be
hind her the man picked his way care
fully and cautiously.
Would we dare to follow? I for one
shuddered at the thought of being out
In the midst of those awful forces of
nature In the darkness where one false
step meant a plunge Into boiling water
that would strip the bones of their
flesh almost in a twinkling.
"Come on, gents, follow me," whis
pered Bob. "I hain't been 'round this
here park nine years for nothin.' I
know every inch of this here formation
Just like one of my cayuses knows the
trail to the M.-Y. barn."
And so in' Indian file we started, fol
lowing Hughes and picking our way
gingerly between the spurting jets of
steam. Clarke handed me a revolver
and had his own In hand ready for ac
tion. Bo Hughes unlimbered a mon
strous 44 from somewhere about his
diminutive person. . But withal firearms
were useless unless it be that a quick
shot from Clarke's steady hand might
wing the man if the drama began to
take the setting of murder.
""We've lost them!" excitedly whis
pered Clarke. i
Sure enough, the couple were nowhere
In sight.
"We'll pick 'em up all right when we
round that geyser cone yonder,'" whis
pered Bo.
Yes, there they were, as he had said,
but the scene was vastly changed.
The woman had stopped her headlong
flight and was kneeling on the formation
as if in prayer. In her clasped, uplifted
hands we saw the glint of polished
metal. Behind her the husband crept
with outstretched arms. Closer and
closer he came, but she seemed un
mindful of his presence. Were we to
witness a murder or a suicide prevented?
It was hard to tell.
We could do nothing but stand idly
by and await the denouement. To cry
out, to advance, would be but to pre
cipitate Ibe tragedy. Clarke dropped on
Solver or
one knee and drew a careful bead on
the advancing man. Bo Hughes did the
same. As for me I was too fascinated
for action.
Suddenly there was a scream of agon
ized fear. The man threw up hls hands
and disappeared as if the earth had
swallowed him up. "Veritably it had, for
when we rushed to the spot where we
had last seen him we found only the
boiling, swirling waters of "The Devil
Well."
"She's got a down current that goes
right to the middle of the earth, I guess.
He won't never show' up no more.
Friend of yours, rot, I hope," com
mented Bo Hughes. "
The form of the woman lay out
stretched on the formation a few ,feet
away.
"She's only fainted, I think," said
Clarke, as we gently lifted her up. A
small jeweled revolver fell from her
grasp- -
. In truth she had only fainted, for
she regained consciousness with the
handling and looked wildly about her.
"You are free from him forever, Lady
Snively," said Clarke.
"Thank God!" she exclaimed. "I fear
It is wicked to feel so, but it is better
than suicide for me or hanging for
him."
The absence of Lord Snively would
be a difficult . thing to explain at the
hotel and none of us relished the idea
of an inquest with its consequent delay,
to say nothing of the incriminating
colors with which suspicious minds
might invest the events of the night.
But manifestly there was nothing to
be done but to tell the truth and so
Clarke and I took Lady Snively be
tween us, and piloted by Hughes, we
picked our way carefully back over the
quarter of a mile of treacherous forma
tion. When we set foot on solid and
safe ground again "Old Faithful" was
just beginning to play. He had played
Just as we started out and so, accord
ing to his schedule, maintained through
out the centuries, we had been on the
formation just 69 minutes. It had not
seemed more than 10.
When we reached the hotel we found
two very potent agencies at work in our
favor: Clarke's reputation, - which had
penetrated even into the Yellowstone, and
Bo HugWes, whose straight story admit
ted of no doubt. "Without the knowledge
of a single one of our fellow-passengers
it was quietly arranged that we should
all proceed in the morning by . a special
stage in charge of Hughes to Mam
mouth station'at. the northern end of the
park, there to make report to the caval
ry colonel In command. This plan ad
mitted of a few hours' sleep, . of which
we hastened to take advantage.
"And now. Lady Snively," began
Clarke, when ' we were comfortably
stowed away in the stage the next morn
ing, "perhaps you can tell us your story
and we can advise you as to the future."
"Please do not call me Lady Snlvely,"
answered the brave little woman. "That
name was my undoing and henceforth I
am content to be plain Alice Hathaway.
The story is brief, and if it would only
prove a warning to all foolish American
girls I would feel that I have not lived
it in vain. My father died when I was
18. He was one of the organizers of the
United States Zinc Corporation, but be
fore his death he had converted all of his
stock into bonds. I was an only child
and I suddenly found myself In posses
sion of the bonds which you have now.
That was two years ago. I was young
and foolish and my ideas of life had
been gained from reading fiction, not the
best, I believe. When . real lord in the
person of Lord Snively met me and asked
my hand in marriage, I was innocent
enough to believe I was making a great
match.
"We went first to London. The world
and the future looked lovely for a time,
but the dream was soon dispelled. Sus
picion began to grow upon my happiness
when, instead of proceeding at once to
his ancestral castle in Surrey as he had
promised, we suddenly packed In an hour
and made a hurried return to the United
States. On the passsage home I found in
his luggage a newspaper clipping that set
me thinking all the harder. It was the
story of some villain in England who,
under various names, was suspected of
marrying a number of women, securing
possession of their wealth and then mur
dering them."
"J. Frederick Bannister, was it not?"
Where Do the World's Pins Go'
New York Tribune.
O the perennial question, "Where
do all the pins go?" no adequate an
swer has ever been made. Some
are swallowed, for every 'now and then
there is published a statement in regard
to persons who survive operations for the
removal of this foreign body from the
human svstem. The majority are lost
(for whoever is able to find a pin always
when It is needed?), and it may oa pre
sumed that all finally disintegrate and re
turn tn the earth, from which came tne
Aimnn combined in these articles of
use and convenience.
The origin of the pin is also lost in the
mists of antiquity, but as its prototype is
found in the thorn and the slender fish
bone, it may readily be concluded that
the use of these began with the invention
of clothing, usually ascribed to the father
and -mother of the race, Adam ana eve,
when "they sewed fig leaves together
and made themselves aprons" in the Gar
den eastward In Eden, although tne tact
of sewing would seem to show that the
needle is of higher antiquity man xne pin.
In the most ancient remains of the hu
man race vet discovered, those of the
lake dwellers, in Central Europe, there
have been many pins found; some of
bone and others of bronze.
As if to show that there is nothing
new under the sun, some have been found
which almost exactly resemble the mod
ern safety pin. Brass pins find mention
in the Book of Exodus. Ping, of wood,
bone, ivory, bronze, silver and gold, more
or , less rudely constructed, were in use
among the ancient dwellers in Egypt,
Rome, Greece and Asia. The Chinese
are practically the only pinless nation,
with all their skill and inventiveness
never having made use of this device,
which is regarded as indispensable by
the rest of the world. Artistically
wrought pins are found in the tombs of
ancient Egypt. In Pompeii and Hercuia
neum are preserved bronze pins and bone
hairpins.
The modern making of pins dates back
to the fifteenth century, when pins of iron
were first manufactured in England, but
It Is believed that these were without
heads and were practically skewers. In
the year 1540 pins made from brass were
introduced in England by Queen Cather
ine Howard, the fifth of the six wives of
King Henry "VIII. In 1543 there was an
act of Parliament which was designed
"to avoid the slight and false making of
pins." and provided that "no person shall
put on sale any pinnes, but only such as
shall be double headed, and have .the
head soldered fast to the shank of the
pinnes, well smoothed, the shank well
shapen, the points well and round filed,
canted and sharpened."
At that time the chief source of supply
was France, but in 1626 the manufacture
I . ,
interrupted Clarke. "Do you know,
Sexton, I rather suspected from the first
it was him. He was a sort of English
Johann Hoch and went under a number -of
aliases." I
"Yes, Bannister was one of the names ;
used, and the description in the paper
fitted him so perfectly that, struggle as '
I might against the awful thought, I I
could not get it out 'of my mind. He
knew of my wealth and knew the safe'l
deposit company with which it was kept.
I determined to draw it out secretly and
place, it elsewhere. I had secured the j
papers when, with the suddenness that .
marked all his movements, he told me
we were going to the Yellowstone. I had
no opportunity to place the bonds any-
where, so closely did he watch me. I
am now convinced he knew I had them ,
on my person, for our journey was a
constant series of quarrels over the ques- '
tion of my placing all my fortune in his '
hands that he might redeem from mort- '
gage his ancestral estates.
"During one of these quarrels, about .
charged him directly with the clipping ;
the time we reached Chicago, I 1
I had found in his luggage. His first
look of terror and anger told me the '
shaft had struck and then he became
the same inscrutable, oily villain as i
before. But I knew the truth and I ;
knew that upon my wits alone rested
the safety of my fortune and my life. (
"When you gentlemen entered the ;
train I studied you closely. Then I ;
learned Mr. Clarke's name and it -was ;
at once familiar to me because Mrs. j
Richard King, whom I knew quite j
well, had told me of your wonderful j
work and how you had rescued her '
and her husband from the wiles of a '
worker of black magic. I knew I could :
trust you.
"Only once did I lose heart and see
nothing in the future, but the alterna- !
tlve between death and the lifelong !
dlsgTace of being his wife. This was
at Old Faithful Inn when he watched ,
me so closely that I saw no possible j
chance of communication with you. I
believe for the moment my mind gave .
way under the strain. I noticed that
Snively was dozing in his chair, and I
an overmastering impulse seized me
to get as far as possible from the
hotel and end it all with the little re- :
volver I had provided for Just such an
emergency; and if it had not been for I
you brave gentlemen either I should )
have succeeded, or he would have
killed me or I would have slain him. I i
believe it all turned out for the best.
You received the note I slipped through
the crack in the wall, Mr. Clarke dl- -rectlng
the disposition of my fortune I
In case of my death?"
"Yes, I received it all right, '" an- j
s-viered Clarke. "But now I have the
happiness to be able to restore it to
its rightful owner living."
We found the commandant at Mam- 1
mouth a most reasonable man. He i
was fully satisfied with our story, ex- I
acting only the promise, readily given, j
I assure you, that we would keep him :
advised of our whereabouts in case
powers above him should wish to in- j
quire more closely into the matter.
The stage company also treated us j
with marked consideration In Insisting
that we should resume our Interrupted ,
tour as their honored guests. Lndy
Snlvely. or Miss Hathaway, as we now !
called her. we saw safely on the train !
at Granger, bound for the East, her fcl- i .
low passengers no doubt little suspect- j
lng that she carried with her almost a I
king's ransom. ,
"Do you know." remarked Clarke,
after we had resumed our slghtsecinar.
"women are always unreasonable. It
she really wanted to make away with j
herself why did she wauder over al- ,
most three-quarters of a mile of forma- j
tion with certain death on either side :
of her to do it with a pistol?" 1
As the question involved a problem ;
that dates from Adam's loss of a rib i
it necessarily remained unanswered.
We never saw Miss Hathaway again, ,
but twice each year Clarke and I re
ceive each the Interest upon JlO.OfiO
worth of bonds of the United States
Zinc Corporation. T suppose the bond
stand in our names, else why should ;
they send us the interest? But I am ;
sure neither of us is conscious of hav
ing earned any such reward.
(Next week:
let.")
"The Satsuma Brace-
of pins took a great start in England, and
one man employed 1500 persons. Ten
years later the pinmakers of London
formed a corporation, but later the in- :
dustry found its chief seat at Birmlng- ;
ham. In this country, in 17T6, prizes were j
offered to the Carollnas for the first na- ;
tive-made pins and needles, but It was
not until the war of 1813 put a practical
embargo on the Importation of pins, and
the price rose to prohibitive proportions, i
that their actual manufacture was start- ,
ed in the United States, and it was inven- '
tive Yankees who perfected the modern I
process of pinmaklng. !
The modern plnmaking machine works
automatically and completes the' pin, j
with the exception of coloring and polish- !
lng, without the aid of human hands.
In 1841 the device for sticking pins in j
rows of paper was invented by Samuel !
Slocum of Connecticut and put in use in
the factory where pins were made by :
Dr. Howe's machine. It was later im- '
proved by Thaddeus Fowler. This ma-
chine is described as scarcely less lngenl-j
ous than the pin-making invention. By
use of these devices the total pin product '
in this country, chiefly in Connecticut, :
was a little more than 50.000.000 gross in
1900. of which about 47.500.000 were ordi
nary pins, about 1,500.000 were safety pins
and about 1.000,000 were hairpins.
In size pins range from those huge
safety pins used for horse blankets, four
or five Inches in length, down to the slen
der gilt pins used by entomologists in
mounting specimens, of which It takes
4500 to weigh an ounce. Mourning pins
are made from iron wire, heated to get
the proper color, and then coated with
black Japan varnish. Glass-headed pins
are chiefly made in Germany, a thin bar
of enamel or glass being kept at a proper
temperature, and the pin being inserted
in it with a whirling motion, which de- .
taches enough of the soft material to ,
make the head. Skilled workmen are said
to be able to head 25,000 to 30,000 glass
pins in one day.
The old nursery rhyme
It Is a sin to steal a pin;
It is a greater to steal a 'tater;
But he who steals a copper
Is guilty of a whopper.
has Its counterpart In one of Franklin's
"Hints to Those Who Would Be Rich: '
A penny saved is twopence dear;
A pin a day's a groat a year.
In the days when pins cost considerably
more than now the term "pin money
came into use to designate a sum set
apart by a husband for the use of bin
daughter, for the purchase of apparel
or ornaments for her person. In one of
Richard Steele's plays, "The Tender
Husband," a character says: "The main
article with me is that foundation of
wives' rebellion and husbands' ciickolduui,
that cursed pin money 500 per annum
pin money.