y
SERIAL
STORY
PICTURES BY A. VEIL
The
BOWL
By LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE
(Copyright VMT.Tha llobl-MTlTo!
SYN0PSI8.
"Mail" Dan Mnltland, on reaching his
New York bachelor club, met an attrac
tive young woman at the door. Janitor
O'Hagan assured him no one had been
within that day. Dan discovered a wom
an's finger prints In dust on his desk,
along with a letter from his attorney.
Maltland dined with Bannerman. his at
torney. Dan set out for Greenfields, to
Bet his family Jewels. During his walk
to the country seat, he met the young
Ing his bachelors' club. Her auto had
broken down. He fixed It. By a ruse she
"lost" him. Maltland, on reaching home,
surprised lady in gray, cracking the safe
containing his gems. She, apparently,
took him for a well-known crook. Daniel
Anisty. Half-hypnotised, Maltland opened
his safe, took therefrom the Jewels, and
gave them to her. first forming a 'part
nership In crime. The real Dan Anisty.
sought by pf.lice of the world, appeared
on the same mission. Maltland overcame
him. He met the girl outside the house
and they sp'-d on to New York In her au
to. He had the Jewels and she promised
to meet him that day. Maltland received
a "Mr. Snalth." Introducing himself as a
detective. To shield the girl In gray,
Maltland, ahout to show him the Jew
els, supposedly lost, was felled by a blow
from "Snalth's" cane. The latter proved
to be Anisty himself and he secured the
gems. 'Anisty, who was Maitland's dou
ble, masqueraded as the latter. The
:rtmlnal kept Maitland's engagement with
the girl In gray.
CHAPTER VII. Continued.
It was very plain to a deductive
reasoner from the girl's attitude to
ward him that she had fallen into re
lations of uncommon friendliness with
this Maltland, young as Anisty be
lieved their acquaintance to be. There
had plainly been a flirtation where
in lay the explanation of Maitland's
forbearance; he had been fascinated
by the woman, had not hesitated to
take Anisty's name (even as Anisty
was then taking his) in order to pro
long their intimacy.
So much the better. Turn about
was still fair play. Maltland had sown
as Anisty; the real Anisty would reap
the harvest. Pretty women interested
him deeply, though he saw little enough
of them, partly through motives of
prudence, partly because of a refine
ment of taste; women of the class of
this conquest-by-proxy were out of
reach of the enemy of society. That
Is, under ordinary circumstances. This
one, on the contrary, was not; what
ever she was or had been, however
successful a crackswoman she might
be, her cultivation and breeding were
as apparent as her beauty; and quite
as attractive.
A criminal is necessarily first a gam
bler, a votary of Chance; and the
blind goddess had always been very
kind to Mr. Anisty. He felt that here
again she was favoring him. Maltland
he had eliminated from this girl's life;
Maltland had failed to keep his en
gagement, and so would never again
be called upon to play the part of
burglar with her interest for Incentive
and guerdon. Anisty himself could
take up where Maltland had left off.
Easily enough. The difficulties were
Insignificant; he had only to play up
to Maitland's standard for a while, to
be Maltland with all that gentleman's
advantages, educational and social,
then gradually drop back to his own
level and be himself, Dan Anisty,
"Handsome Dan," the professional, the
fit mate for the girl.
What was she saying?
"But you have lunched already!"
with an appealing pout.
"Indeed, no!" he protested, earnest
ly. "I was early conceive my eager
ness! and by ill chance a friend of
mine insisted upon lunching with me.
I had only a cup of coffee and a roll,"
He motioned to the waiter, calling
him "Waiter!" rather than "Garcon!'
intuitively understanding that Malt
land would never have aired his
French In a public place, and that
he could not afford the "least slip be
fore a woman as keen as this.
"Lay a clean cloth and bring the
bill of fare," he demanded, tempering
his lordly Instincts and adding the
"please" that men of Maitland's stamp
UEe to Inferiors.
"A friend!" tardily echoed the girl
when the servant was gone.
He laughed lightly, determined to
bo frank. "A detective, in point of
fact," said he. And he enjoyed her sur
prise.
"You have many such?"
"For convenience one tries to bar
one in each city."
"And this I"
"Oh. I have him fixed, all rlht. He
confided to me all the latest develop
ments and official intentions with re
gard to the Maltland arrest."
Her eyes danced. "Tell me!" she
demanded, imperious; the emphasis of
Intimacy irresistible as she bent for
ward, forearms on the cloth, slim
white hands clasped with tense im
patience, eyes seeking hi3.
"Why ... of course Maltland
escaped."
"No!"
"Fact. Scared the butler Into un
gagglng him; then, In a fit of pardon
able rage, knocked that fool down and
dashed out of the window presum
ably in pursuit of us. Up to a late
hour he hadn't returned, and police
opinion Is divided as to whether Malt
land arrested Anisty, and Anisty got
away, or vice versa."
"Excellent!" She clasped her hands
noiselessly, a gay little gesture.
"So, whatever the outcome, one thing
is certain: Higgins will presently be
seeking 'another berth."
She lifted her brows prettily. "Hig
gins?" with the rising Inflection.
"The butler. Didn't you hear ?"
Eyes wondering, she moved her head
slowly from side to side. "Hear what?"
"I fancied that you had waited a
moment on the veranda," he finessed.
"Oh, I was quite too frightened."
He took this for a complete denial.
Better and better! He had actually
feared she had eavesdropped, how
ever warrantably; and Maitland's
authoritative way with the servants
uuu ueeu too luuwu .
have deceived a woman of her keen
wits.
There followed a lull while Anisty
was ordering the luncheon; something
he did elaborately and with success,
I
"A Detective, In Point of Fact," Said
He.
telling himself humorously: "Hang
the expense! Maltland pays." Of
which fact the weight in his pocket
was assurance.
Maltland. . . . Anisty's thoughts
verged off upon an interesting tan
gent. What was Maitland's motive in
arranging this meeting? It was self
evident that the twain were of one
world the girl and the man of fash
ion. But, whatever her right of her
itage, she had renounced it, declassing
herself by yielding to thievish In
stincts, voluntarily placing herself on
tLe level of Anisty. Where she must
remain, for ever.
There was comfort In that reflection.
He glanced up to find her eyes bent in
gravity upon him. She, too, It ap
peared, had fallen a prey to reverie.
Upon what subject? An absorbing
one, doubtless, since It held her ab
stracted despite her companion's di
rect, unequivocally admiring stare.
The odd light was flickering again In
the cracksman's glace. She was then
more beautiful than aught that ever
he had dreamed of. Such hair as was
hers, woven seemingly of dull flames,
lambent, witching! And eyes beauti
ful always, but never more so than at
this moment, when filled with sweetly
pensive contemplation. . . . Was
she reviewing the last 24 hours, dream
ing of what had passed between her
and that silly fool, Maltland? If only
Anisty could surmise what they had
said to each other, how long they had
been acquainted; if only she would
give him a hint, a leading word!
If he could have read her mind, have
seen behind the film of thought that
clouded her eyes, one fears Mr. Anisty
might have lost appetite for an excel
lent luncheon.
For she was studying his hands, her
memory harking back to the moment
when she had stood beside the safe,
holding the bull's-eye.
In the blackness of that hour a disk
o' light shone out luridly against the
tapestry of memory. Within its radius
appeared two hands, long, supple,
strong, Immaculately white, graceful
and dexterous, as delicate of contour
as a woman's, yet lacking nothing of
masculine vigor and modeling; hands
that wavered against the blackness,
fumbling with the shining nickeled
disk of a combination lock. . . .
Tne Impression had been and re
mained one extraordinarily vivid.
Could her eyes have dectived her so?
"Thoughtful?"
She nodded alertly. Instantaneously
mistress of self; and let her gaze,
serious yet half smiling, linger upon
his the exact fractional shade of an In
stant longer than had been, perhaps,
discreet. Then lashes drooped long
upon her cheeks, and her color deep
ened all but imperceptibly.
The man's breath halted, then came
a trace more rapidly than before. He
bent forward impulsively. . . ; The
girl sighed, ever so gently.
"I was thoughtful. . . . It's all
so strange, you know."
His attitude was an ea-'er question.
"I mean our meeting that way, last
night." She held his gaze again, mo
mentarily, and
"Damn the waiter!" quoth savagely
Mr. Anisty to his Inner man, sitting
back to facilitate the service of their
meal.
The girl placated him with an insig
nificant remark which led both into a
maze of meaningless but infinitely di
verting Inconsequences; diverting, at
least, to Anisty, who hel.l up his head,
giving her back look for look, jest for
jest, platitude for platitude (when the
waiter was within hearing distance);
altogether, he felt, acquitting himself
very creditably.
As for the girl, in the course of the
next half or three-quarters cf an hour
she demonstrated herself conclusively
a person of amazing resource, de
veloping with admirable ingenuity a
campaign planned on the spur of a
chance, observation. The gentle man
nered and self-sufficient crook was
taken captive before he realized It,
however willing he may have been.
Enmeshed in a hundred uncompre
hended subtleties, he basked, purring,
the while she insinuated herself be
neath his guard and stripped him of
his entire armament of cunning, vigi
lance, invention, suspicion, and dis
trust. He relinquished them without a
sigh, barely conscious of the spolia
tion. After all, she was of his trade,
herself mired with guilt; she would
never dare betray him, the conse
quences to herself would be so dire.
Besides, patently almost too much
so she admired him. He was her
hero. Had she not more than hinted
that such was the case, that his ex
ample, his exploits, had fired her to
emulation however weakly feminine?
... He saw her before him, dainty,
alluring, yielding, yet leading him on
altogether desirable. And so long had
he, Anisty, starved for affection!
"I am sure you must be dying for a
smoke."
"Beg pardon!" He awoke abruptly,
to find himself twirling the sharp
r'bbed stem of his empty glass. Ab
stractedly he stared into this, as
though seeking there a Clue to what
they had been talking about. Hazily
he understood that they had been
drifting close upon the perilous shoals
of intimate personalities. What had
he told her? What had he not?
No matter. It was clearly to be seen
that her regard for him had waxed
rather than waned as a result of their
conversation. One had but to look
into her eyes to be reassured as to
that. One did look, breathing heavily.
. . . What an ingenuous child it
was, to show hint her heart so freely!
He wondered that this should be so,
feeling it none the less a Just aud
g.aceful tribute to his fascinations..
She repeated her arch query. She
was sure he wanted to smoke.
Indeed he did If she would permit?
And forthwith Maitland's cigarette
case was produced, with a flourish.
"What a beautiful case!"
In an instant it was in her hands.
"Beautiful!" she iterated, inspecting
the delicate tracery of the monogram
engraver's art head bended forward,
face shaded by the broad-brimmed hat.
"You like it? You would care to
ov.'n It?" Anisty demanded, unsteadily.
"I?" The inflection of doubtful sur
prise was a delight to the ear. "Oh!
... I couldn't think of accepting.
. , . Besides, I have no use for It."
"Of course you ain't are not that
sort." An hour back he could have
kicked himself for the grammatical
b;under; now he was wholly illuded;
besides, she didn't seem to notice.
"But as a little token between us "
She drew back, pushing the case
across the cloth; "I couldn't dream "
"But If I insist?"
"If you insist? . . . Why, I sup
pose . . . It's awfully good of
you." She flashed him a maddening
glance.
"You do me pro honor," he amend
ed, hastily. Then, daringly: "I don't
ask much In exchange, only "
"A cigarette?" she suggested,
hastily.
He laughed, pleased and diverted.
"That'll be enough now If you'll light
it for me."
She glanced dubiously round the now
iii most deserted room; and a waiter
started forward as if animated by a
spring. Anisty motioned him imperi
ously back. "Go on," he coaxed; "no
one can see." And watched, flattered,
the slim white fingers that extracted a
match from the stand and drew It
swiftly down the prepared surface of
the box, holding the flickering flame
to the ehd of a white tube whose Up
lay between lips curved, scarlet, and
pouting.
"There!" A pale wraith of smoke
floated away on the fan-churned air.
and Anisty was va:-ruely conscious of
receiving the glowing cigarette from
a hand whose sheer perfection was but
enhanced by the ripe curves of a
rcunded forearm. ... He inhaled
deeply, with satisfaction.
Undetected by him, the girl swiftly
passed a furtive handkerchief across
her Hps. Whrn he looked again she
was smiling and the golden case hat!
disappeared.
She shook her her.d at him in mock
reproval. "Bold man!" she called him;
but the crudity of it was lost upon him.
as she had believed It would be. The
mcment had come for vigorous meas
ures, she felt, guile having paved the
way.
"Why do you call me that?"
"To appear so openly running the
gauntlet of the detectives."
"Eh.?" startled.
"Of course you paw," she Insisted.
"Saw? No. Saw what?"
"Why. . . . perhaps I am mis
taken, but I thought you knew and
t listed to your likeness to Mr. Malt
land." Anisty frowned, collecting himself,
bewildered. "What are you driving at.
anyhow?" he demanded, roughly.
"Didn't you see the detectives? 1
should have thought your man would
have warned you. I noticed four lott
ing round the entrance, as I came In,
and feared "
"Whv didn't vou tell me, then?"
"I have just told you the reason. I
supposed you were In your disguise."
"That's so." The alarmed expres
sion gradually faded, although he re
mained troubled. "I sure am Maltland
to the life," he continued with satis
faction. "Even the head-waiter "
"And of course," she Insinuated, deli
cately, "you have disposed of the
loot?"
He shook his head gloomily. "No
time, as yet."
Her dismay was evident "You don't
mean to say ?"
"In my pocket."
"Oh!" She glanced stealthily
a:ound. "In your pocket!'' she whis
pered. "And and If they stopped
you "
"I am Maltland."
"But if they insisted on searching
you. . . ." She was round-eyed with
apprehension.
"That's so!" Her perturbation was
Infectious. His jaw dropped.
"They would find the jewels known
to be stolen "
"By God!" he cried, savagely.
"Dan!"
"I I beg your pardon. But . . .
what am I to do? You are sure ?"
"McClusky himself is on the nearest
corner!"
"Phew!" he whistled; and stared at
her, searchingly, through a lengthen
ing pause.
"Dan . . ." said she at length.
"Yes?"
"There Is a way."
"Go on."
"Last night, Dan" she raised her
glorious eyes to his "last night, I
. . . I trusted you."
His face hardened ever so slightly;
yet when he took thought the tense
lines about his eyes and mouth soft
ened. And she drew a deep breath,
knowing that she had all but won.
"I trusted you," she continued soft
ly "Do you know what that means?
I trusted you."
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
INJURY WROUGHT BY WEEDS
Beeds of Many Plants Will Retain
Their Vitality for Fifteen to
to Twenty-Five Year.
(By H. H. 8HEPARD.)
Weeds rob the soil of moisture. Ex
periments ehow that for most of the
cultivated grasses from three to five
hundred pounds of water must actual
ly pass through the plants to produce
a single pound of dry matter.
This is doubtless the most import
ant of the weed Injuries, for It must
not be forgotten that the moisture In
the soil Is the all important thing.
Ask the average farmer why he cul
tivates, his corn and he will say "to
kill the weeds," when as a matter ol
fact It should be for the purpose of
conserving moisture In the soil. The
weeds are killed purely as an Inci
dental matter. A perfectly clean corn
field needs cultivation as badly as a
weedy one.
Weeds crowd the cultivated plants,
depriving thefn of light -and space In
both soil and air.
Weeds rob the soli of food element
required by other plants.
Weeds harbor Injurious Insects and
plant diseases.
Weeds sometimes Injure by killing
farm stock, or by rendering their pro
duct unsalable.
Annual and bi-annual weeds are
produced almost entirely from seed.
Plants of these classes especially
spring up In the most unexpected
places. It has been found that the
seeds of many weedB will retain their
vitality for 15 to 25 years, possibly
'nneer and not nil of the given year's
seed grows in any one year.
This great vitality will explain In
pnrt at least why It is so hard to com
pletely eradicate any weed from a
given piece of land, even though all
reseeding jnay be prevented.
LITTLE TRAFFIC ON THE NILE.
Not Much Use Made of Water Trans
portation in Egypt.
It Is a curious fact that the Nile and
most of the canals In Egypt run north
and south. The wind blows nearly all
the year from the north, and thus fur
nishes the cheapest propelling power
for boats going south. When the boats
return north the rapid current of the
Nile 1b the motive power. The regu
larity of the wind and the steadiness
of the current are two reasons why
boats propelled by any other power
are so little used. Time is not so im
portant an element in business In
Egypt as in some other countries, and
it does not matter, therefore, that
boats propelled by wind or current are
slow. But not so much use is made
of water transportation in Egypt as
one might think, in view of the possi
bilities ofTered by the Nile and the
many .canals throughout the Delta.
The Nile is navigable for many hun
dred miles. The first cataract is at
Assouan, but there is no Interruption
of traffic until Wadl Haifa is reached,
800 miles from Cairo. The primary
object of the canals is to distribute
water for irrigation, but they are real
ly broad and deep water courses, easi
ly navigable by sailing boats and
small steam tugs. With Egypt's awak
ening the value' of these canals will
soon be realized.
Lamp Chimneys.
Hang a hairpin on top of lamp
glass and it will never crack. Put salt
In kerosene and the light will k
brighter.
PROPER FEED FOR DRY COWS
Should Have Run of Well-Protected
Warm Yard During the Day and
8tabled at Night.
Dry cows that will come fresh In
prlng should have the run of a well
irotected warm yard during the day
md stabled at night. A cow that will
alve In spring cannot be kept in good
irder on straw and fodder alone. She
hould have a little grain In addition.
Two quarts of wheat bran and two
marts of crushed corn nnd cornmeal
civen daily to each will keep them in
ood thrifty condition and the calves
will be stronger and healthier. Feed
may be Baved by cutting the fodder
nd straw and mixing the meal with
he cut feed. Mix one bushel of the
JUt fodder and straw with the corn
"hop and bran. Mix with Just enough
water to make the meal stick to the
'odder. Give the mixed ration morn
ing and night. Each one should be
haltered In her own stall. She can
then eat her ration without being
crowded out by greedy cattle.
After the mixed feed Is eaten turn
out in the yard when wenther Is suit
able. A little salt sprinkled over the
cut feed will make It more palatable.
Heifers and yearlings should be
well fed. They are growing and can
not be kept healthy unless they have
enough nutriment to provide for their
natural growth.
The heifers should have a roomy
pen to go under In stormy weather
and at night.
Keep the calves in a separate pen.
Bed heavily with straw. If the straw
Is clean and dry-a large portion will
be eaten. By giving a thick bed the
cattle can be kept comfortable. They
will eat less and keep In good thrifty
condition. By this method a large
nuantlty of manure may be made, as
all the urine will be absorbed by the
straw.
Pure-bred Colts Pay.
Good, pure-bred colts are worth nt a
eery conservative estimate at least
$200 per head as yearlings. The cost
af raising them Is but little greater
than that of raising good grnde coltB,
aside from the greater initial cost of
the mares. When we take into con
sideration the fact that pure-bred
mares are sold at from $500 to $800
per head, while good grnde mares are
worth from $250 to $350 per head, It
may be readily seen that the mature
mares will sell much closer to grade
mares than pure-bred colts will to
grade colts. Pure-bred yearlings that
are brought along in flrBt-class shape
very frequently sell at from 1300 to
$350 per head.
Walnuts and Butternuts.
Walnuts and butternuts thrive well
an rich, well-drained soil and soon
ome Into bearing. There is a fair d.
mand for the nuts in the markets. But
anly the surplus should bo sold. Most
it the nuts should be used at home for
-ake making and eating fresh from
he sheilB.
Barley as Feed.
Judging from the standnoint of a not.
rsts and digestibility, barley has about
the same feeding value as wheat or
corn and Bllghtly more than bran or
aats. Bald barley Is richer !n protein
than common barley.