Genre Mystery & Crime. Page - 5

rth of Italylike the plague; Venice and Genoa withered at the touch of this swarthyill-nourished boy. He cowed the soldiers in the field, and he outwittedthe statesmen in the council chamber. With a frenzy of energy he rushedto the east, and then, while men were still marvelling at the way inwhich he had converted Egypt into a French department, he was back againin Italy and had beaten Austria for the second time to the earth. Hetravelled as quickly as the rumour of his coming; and where he

n purple ink beneath the name and address of Mynheer van Urutius ... that was all.My heart sank with disappointment and wretchedness as I read the inscription. Here is the document: * * * * * Herr Willem van Urutius, Automobilgeschäft, Nymwegen. Alexandtr-Straat 81 bis. Berlin, Iten Juli, 16. O Eichenholz! O Eichenholz! Wie leer sind deine Blätter. Wie Achiles in dem Zelte. Wo zweie sich zanken Erfreut sich der Dritte. * * * * * (Translation.) Mr. Willem van Urutius, Automobile Agent, Nymwegen.

remain unsettled for an instant. Though she had passed out before my eyes in a drooping, almost agonised condition, not she, dear as she was, and great as were my fears in her regard, was to be sought out first, but the man! The man who was back of all this, possibly back of my disappointment; the man whose work I may have witnessed, but at whose identity I could not even guess.Leaving the window, I groped my way along the wall until I reached the rack where the man's coat and hat hung. Whether

The outer door was locked and he paused on the sidewalk, wondering how to get in.This problem was settled for him as a woman crossed the small entrance and pushed open the ground glass door. She was blond, with the enameled finish of Max Factor and the House of Westmore, neatly turned out. She gave Lennox a speculative look, but he was too busy catching the door to give her more than a passing glance. The entry was small and tiled. An automatic elevator and a stairway which looped like a

nk well enough of it to write it up.""Go on!" I said. "I'll whack up with you square and honest." "Which is more than either Watson or Bunny ever did with my father or my grandfather, else I should not be in the business which now occupies my time and attention," said Raffles Holmes with a cold snap to his eyes which I took as an admonition to hew strictly to the line of honor, or to subject myself to terrible consequences. "With that understanding,

he point of retiring for the night, when two men suddenly made their appearance before him, and accosted him by name. He immediately sprang to his feet with a cry of welcome."I had made up my mind that you were not coming," he said as they shook hands. "The old tub didn't get in until a quarter to nine," the taller of the two new-comers replied. "When did you arrive?" "This afternoon," said Hayle, and for a moment volunteered no further information. A

his cook-book a narrow stairway rose on each side,running up to the gallery. Behind these stairs a short flightof steps led to the domestic recesses. The visitor foundhimself ushered into a small room on the left, where a grateof coals glowed under a dingy mantelpiece of yellowish marble.On the mantel stood a row of blackened corn-cob pipes and a canisterof tobacco. Above was a startling canvas in emphatic oils,representing a large blue wagon drawn by a stout white animal--evidently a horse. A

any young girl can stomach the life at Clinch's.""It's a wonder what a decent woman will stand," observed Stormont. "Ninety-nine per cent. of all wives ought to receive the D. S. O." "Do you think we're so rotten?" inquired Lannis, smiling. "Not so rotten. No. But any man knows what men are. And it's a wonder women stick to us when they learn." They laughed. Lannis glanced at his watch again. "Well," he said, "I don't believe anybody

her head, my name is not Jeremiah Bates.""You mean the French maid?" "Why, yes, of course. I take it there's little doubt but what she performed the double duty of unlocking the safe and the window too. You see I look at it this way, Miss Brooke: all girls have lovers, I say to myself, but a pretty girl like that French maid, is bound to have double the number of lovers than the plain ones. Now, of course, the greater the number of lovers, the greater the chance there is of