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5rW- 1 â- â- :â- ::â- > ThcPriccofLiberty OR, A MIDNIGHT CALL CHAPTER I. David Steel dropped his eyes from the mirror and shuddered as a man whc sees his own soul bared for the first time. And yet the mirror was in itself a tiling of artiatic beau- ty â€" engraved Florentine glass in a frame of deep old Flemish oak. The novelist had purchased it in Bruges, and now it stood as a joy and a thing of beauty against the full red wall over the fireplaco. And Steel had glanced at himself therein and seen murder in his eyes. He dropiied into a chair with a groan for his own helplessness. Men have done tliat kind r thing before when the cartridges iiiu all gone and the bayonets are twisted and broken and the brown waves of the foe come snarling over the broastworks. And then they die doggedly with the ctones in their hands, and cursing the tardy supports that brought this black shame upon them. But Steel's was ruin of another kind. The man was a fighter to his finger-tips. He had dogged deter- mination and splendid physical cour- age; he had gradually thrust his way Into the front rank of living novel- i'Jts. though the taste of poverty was « tin bitter in his mouth. And how (food success was now that it had >.:ome! People envied him. Well, that Was all in the sweets of the victory. They praised his blue china, they lingered before his Oriental dishes and the choice pictures on the pan- elled walls. The whole thincr was still a constant pleasure to Steel's artistic mind. The dark walls, the old oak and silver, the red shades, and the high, artistic fittings sooth- ed him and pleased him, and played upon his tender imagination. And behind there was a study, filled with books and engravings, and beyond that again a conservatorj', filled ' with the choicest blossoms. Steel could work with the passion flowers above his head and the tender grace of the tropical ferns about him. and he could reach his loft hand for his telephone and call Fleet Street to his ear. It was all unique, delightful, the dream of en artistic soul realized. Three years before Pavid Steel had Worked in an attic at a btire deal table, and his mother had £3 per week to pay for everything. Usually there was balm in this recollection. But not to-night. Heaven help him, not to-night! Little grinning dem- ons were dancing on the oak corni- ces, there were mocking lights gleam- ing from Cellini tankards that Steel ha>d given far too much money for. It had not seemed to matter just at the time. If all this artistic beauty had emptied Steel's purse there was a golden stream coming. What mat- tered it that the local tradesmen wore getting a little restless? The great expense of the novelist's life was past. In two years he would be rich. And the pathos of the thing was not lessened by the fact that it was true. J", two years' time Steel would be well ot"t. He Was terribly short of read.v money, but he had just finished a serial story for which he was to be paid £500 within two months of the de- livery of the copy; two nevels of his were respectively in their fourth and fifth editions. But these novels of his he had more or less given away, and he groimd his teeth as he thought of it. Still, everything spelt prosperity. If ho lived. David Steel was bound to become a rich man. And yet he was ruined. Within twenty-four hours everything would pass out of his hands. To aU prac- tical purpo.-ies it had done so al- ready. And all for the wnnt of £.1,- 000 ! Steel had earned twice that tlie I'ast twelve fruits of his labor his !~\nil about him, twelve months lie could (la.v the debt three times over. He would clu'iM-full.v have taken the bill ^iiul iloubled the amount for six months' di'!;(.\ . And all this because he had become surety for i\n abscomling brother. Steel had -Jiut his pride in his pocket and intervioued his creditor, a little, polite, niild-e.Ncd llnancier. who meant to have his money to the ut- termost farthing. .\t liist he had been suave anl sympathetic uutil he had discovered that Steel had debt.s elsewhere, and then Well, ho had signed judgment, and to-morrow he could levy execution. Within a few hours the bottom would fall out of the universe so far as Steel was concerned. Witliin u few hours every bvitoher and baker and candleatick-niaker would come abu- sively for his bill. Sti-el. who could have faced a regiment, recoiled fear- fully from that. Within a week his oak and silver would have to be sold and the passion flower would wither on the walls. Steel had not told anybody yet; the strong man had groppli-d with his trouble alone. Had he been a man of business he might have found some way out of the difflculty. Kven hU mother didn't know. ."^he was asleep upstairs, |)»rhnps dreaming of her son's gr<>atncss. What would the dear old mater sajr when ibe knew? amount during months, and the were as balm to Within the next [Well, she had been a good mother to him, and it had been a labor of I love to furnish the hou.se for her as for himself. Perhaps there would be â- a few tears in those gentle eyes, but no more. Thank God, no reproaches 1 there. David lighted a cigarette and pac- |ed restlessly round the dining-room. Never had he appreciated its quiet 1 beauty more than he did now. There were flowers, blood-red flowers, on the table under the graceful electric btand that Steel had designed him- self. He snapped oft the light as if the sight pained him, and strode in- to his study. For a time he stood moodily gazing at liis flowers and ferns. How every leaf there was pregnant with association. There was the Moorish clock cironing the midnight hour. When Steel had brought that clo<'k "Ting, ting. ting. Pring, pring, pring. pring. Ting, ting, ting, ting." But Steel heard nothing. Every- thing seemed as silent as the grave. It was only by a kind of inner con- sciousness that he knew the hour to be midnight. Midnight meant the coining of the last day. After sun- rise some greasy lounger pregnant of cheap tobacco would come In and as- sume that he represented the sheriff, bills would be hung like banners on the outward walls, and then "Pring. pring, pring. Ting, ting, ting, ting, tingl ling, tin^. Fring, pring, pring." Bells, somewhere. Like the bells in the valley where the old vicarage used to stand. Steel vaguely won- dered who now lived in the house where he was born. He was staring in the most absent way at his tele- phone, utterly unconscious of the shrill impatience of the little voice. He saw the quick pulsation of the striker and he came back to earth again. JetTeries of the 'Weekly Messenger,' of course. Jefferies was fond of a late chat on the telephone. Steel wondered, grimly, if Jetlerios would lend him £1,000. He flung himself down in a deep lounge chair and plac- ed the receiver to his ear. By the deep, hoarse, clang of the wires, a long-distance mesj^uge. assuretily. "From London, evidently. Halloa, London! -Vre you there?" London responded that it was. A clear, soft voice spoke at length. "Ts that you, Mr. Steel? Are you quite alone? Under the circum- stances you are not busy to-night ?" Steel started. He had never heard the voice before. It was clear and soft and commanding, and yet there was just a suspicion of mocking irony in it. "I'm not very busy to-night," Steel replied. "Who is speaking to me?" "That for the present we need not go into," said the mocking voice. ".A.S certain old-fashioned contempor- aries of yours would say, "We meet as strangers!' Stranger yet, you are quite alone! "I am quite ah>ne. Indeed, I am the only one up in the house." "Good. I have told the exchange people not to ring off till I have finished with you. One advantage of telephoning at this hour is that one is tolerably free from interrup- tion. -So your mother is asleep? Have you told her what is likely to happen to you *iefore many hours have elapsed?" Steel made no reply for a luoment. He was re.stless and ill at ease to- night, and it seemed just possible that his imagination wa.s playing hint stransje tricks. But no. The Moorish dock in its frame of cele- brities droned the quarter after twelve: th? scent of the Pijon roses floated in fiiun the conservatory. "T have told nobody ns yet." Steel said, hoaisoly. "Who in the name of Heaven are you. "That in good time. But I did not think you wore a coward." "Xo man has over told me so â€" face to face." "(V>o<l again. I recognise the fighting ring in your voice. If you lack certain phases of moral courage, you arc a. man of pluck and re-soiirce. Xow. soi'i'-iiody who is very dear to nie Is sV ;ircscnt in Hvlghion, not very far from your own house. She is in dire need of assistance. 'N'ou also are in dire need of a.ssistanco. We can be of mutual advantage to one another." "What lio .vou mean by that?" Steel whispered. "I want you to help my friend, and in return T will help you. Ik'ar in mind that I am iisking you to do nothing wrong. If you will promise nie to Ko to a cer- tain address in Brighton to-night and see my friend. 1 promise thnt be- fore you sleep the sum of £1,000 in Hank of Fngland notes shall be in your possession . " ' No reply came from Steel. He rould not have spoken at that mo- ment for the fee-simple of Oolconda. He could only hang gasping to the telephone. Many a strange and weird plot camo and went in that versatile bruin, but never • one more wild than this. .Apparently no re- ply was expected, tor the spaaker resumed :â€" "I am asking you to do no wrong, â- you may naturally desire to know why my friend does not come to you. That must remain my secret, our secret. We are trusting you be- cause we know you to be a gentle- man, but we have enemies who are ever on the watch. AH you have to do Is to go to a certain place and give a certain woman information, â- you arc thinking that this is a strange mystery. Never was any- thing stranger dreamt of in your philosophy. Are you agreeable?" The mocking tone died out of the small, clear voice until it was al- most pleading. "You have taken me at a disad- vantage," Steel said. "And you know " (To be Coi>tinued.) HOT WEATHER DAXGKRS. More little ones die during the hot ! months than at any other season, I At this time stomach and bowel troubles assume their most danger- ! ous form, and sometimes a few hours j delay in the treatment means the i loss of a little life. Baby's Own I Tablets is the best medicine in the j world to prevent the.se troubles, or ! to cure them if they attack the little I one unexpectedly. Kvery mother I should have a bo.\ of the.se Tablets ' in the hou.se â€" their prompt use may i save a cliild's life. Mrs Arthur I Cote, St. Fortunat, Que., says : "My : little one was greatly troubled with 1 colic and bowel trouble, but since using Baby's Own Tablets the trou- lile has disapijeared, and she is grow- ing nicely and has good health." These Tablets are guaranteed to con- tain no opiates, and are .sale for a new born baby or a well grown child. Sold b.v all medicine dealers or sent by mail at 2,5 cents a bo.\ by writing the Dr. Williams Medicine Co., Brockville, Ont. â- t.4..t..t.4.,|.4.,|.,t..|..t-{,.|.,t.,j,4-|.4-t44,4. A Girl's Caprice CUAPfEK XVI. "Oh, Miss Hilary, I thought ye'd nivir come! The masther is in sich a state! What wid sendin' to the door for ye ivery minit and the ould man in the study!" i "The old man in the studv? " ! "Ves, uiiss. Kaal ould! The mis- ! thress tould me to stand on the hall- docr-step. an' bring ye in, whin ye I came, an' Misther Ker if he was wid ye. .\n' sure." with a merry glance from between her roguish Irish lids, "where would he be but ther(>?" "But " â€" Ker is standing a good I way behind, "why, bridget?" ' "Faix, I don'l know. misr.. Bar- |rin' it is the oidd gintleman that's the cause of it. He's from London Town, I'm thinkin'; a sort of a grand sort of law man, an' it's something about a will, I think." 1 It is plain that Bridget bus been iBpplying her best ear to the keyhole of the study with great effect. I Hilary's face grows disturbed. She turns round and beckons somewhat , haughtily to Ker. Her face is very- white. "It appears that there is a man here, a lawyer, acquainted with my â€" 'our " â€" reluctantly â€" "aunt's will, and ihe wishes to see you as well as me." 1 "But how ?" begins Ker. ; She disdains reply, however, and leads him to Jim's study. * • • * * • The interview is at an end. "The lould man" has gone back to Lon- don. He has brought strange news, j however â€" -Ttrange enough to induce him. the second partner in the great firm, to come all the wu.v to Ire- land to e.xplain it. A second will 'has been discovered, written b.v the old aunt, that entirely upsets the I first terrible one, that would have destro.vetl or made the lives of two young people. 'I'his latter will is quite" clear. Of the XlS.noo n year, jleft by the old aunt, one half is to go to Hilary. the other half to 'Frederic Ker. There are no restric- tions whatsoever. .) im anil I'iana have gone to speed jlho old lawyer i-n his journey. 'IMiey had bogged hiiu to spend a month, a night, a .week, a day even, with thoni. so thankful were they for his I intelligence, but all to no effect. Sa,dly they follow him to the door, i sorry in thai they can show no gratitude bc.vond words to the man who has dclivi'ii'd poor dear Hilary from her hateful (iilornma. .\nd she ;has been so good all through, poor iilarUiig. so un.xious to do what was 'right (only because they had asked I her), it was but an hour ago indeed I that she had rebelled. She hivd I found the task too hard for her. I Now the task is at an end. Won't ishe be delighted! Meantime they have left the stud.v, â€" ai>I Hilary and Ker face to face. .\ doadlj silence ensues, (piiol reigns within this rUom. Ker is looking out of the window, and Hilary is trifling with a hook or two on the table. She has told herself she ought to ,go, but still â€" one or two words must be .sp<iken. t)ne should bid even the worst people adieu when one has s|H?nt an hour or so with them. One should aever be rude. "â- What a fortunate turn things have taken," says she, moving the books about a little indiscriminate- ly- "Very. " He conies back from the window, and faces her from the other side of the table. "Ves. We arc free." Her air is quite as cold as before, yet some- how he knows that there is a change in it, a subtle change. "Entirely free." "I'm so glad," says Hilary, with careful dignity. "Because, once hav- ing decided that a marriage between us would be madness, I felt that perhaps I was doing you an injus- tice." "It is too good of you to trouble yourself so much about me." "I was troubled myself, too; or, [lerhaps, I should not have thought so much â€" about you. You see, my refusal to marry you meant your losing a great deal of money." "I am not so wedded to money as you seem to imagine." "I did not accuse you of that. I," indignantly, "only accused you of being willing to •marry me without loving me," ".\nd what did that mean?" He almost laughs at the absurdity of her reasoning. And in truth she has lost herself a little. She makes a petulant movement, and wisely turns the conversation. "You are going back to India, then?" "Yes." "At once?" "As soon aS ever I can," icily. Then, with a sudden touch of anger; "Why do you ask me? Surely you, who have arrai:!.'iM lovoments. are the one who must know most about them." "I?" she looks up. "I to arrange your movements?" "Yes. you!" He goes up to her and looks her deliberately in the face. "Will you tell me .vou are not sending me back to India?" "What are you sa,ving?" says she, with an attempt at hauteur that fails her. To her honor she knows that she is trembling. " Who am I, that I should arrange your move- ments?" "That is beside the question; though," with a quick look at her, "I could answer you. Will you tell me that you did not refuse me? " "Ah! There was nothing to re- fu.se!" "There was me." "You, but not your love." "Both! Both! I swear it. I swear il now, Hilary, with a clear con- science, when there is nothing to prevent your believing it, I love you. There is no .girl on earth li;£c you, I think. I love you â€" speak to me! " But Hilary cannot speak. She makes a very brave struggle, and then, suddenly, like any silly baby, her hands- go up to her eyes and. to her everlasting shame, she knows that she has burst into tears. Bear and blessed tears. They tell him all things. Suddenly she feels herself caught in his arms. Her clieek is pressed to his. His love, on tire by reason of these tears, has now declared it- self; that love, which he had half derided, has carried him past all control. Like a tide it rushes on. sweeping away all obstacles, dashing straight to the goal of its desires. Hilary, in the midst of this whirl, loses herself a little. Instinctively .she clings to him. From the very first she had felt a certain sympathy with Ker. Xow she knows she loves him. • • • * • • "Xow what was It all about?" asks Ker five minutes later. "I think you needn't have been so very- hard on me. just becaise I happened to be a bit late." "Oh, no. We won't talk about it any more," says Hilary, smiling at him it is true, but letting a little sigh escape her. "Yes we will though. I can see by your e.ves it is not all -ight yet." ••Well, I'll tell you the truth" Fred. I," blushing hotly, "didn't like tn think you had found Mrs. Uyson- Moore more attractive than me." "Mrs. Dyson-Moore! Heavens and earth! a thousand Mrs. Dyson- Moores wouldn't have kept me from you. Why-. I wasn't within a mile of her all day." â- Wot." faltering, "with her? Then where ?" â- 1 Vns in Cork, and that boastlv train was of course slow. .-Vnd â€" " 'Oh, Fred!" she springs to her feet. "Oh. what must you think of me?" "I needn't toll you." laughing, "you know. I went up to Cork to get > ou this " Ho jiuts his hand in his pocket. ""Why? â€" 'Where 7 Oh, here it is!" He pulls out a liitle*c«se, opens it. and taking her hand, slips an e.xcpiis- ite iliamond ring upon her engaged finger. Hilary looks at him. and then, impulsively gniiig noe.rer to him, li;"1s her iiend anil kisses him. •'I oughtn't to take it. I oughtn't really." sa.vs .she dejectedly. "I'm not worthy of it. .Ml th- time you were thinking of ine. I " •"Vou were thinking of me. too." "Ves. but how?"" "Xever mind, ,vou were ihirikliig of me. That's the grout pi^iiU.'" "T certainly was doing that â€" v.-ith n vengeance! What a lovel.\. darling ring' I'o ,vou Know. Fred, T never had a ring in all iii.v life before." "Tm glad of that." says Ker in a low tone. "I'm glad my first gift to you has not been forestalled. " ""Your lirst! " she pauses, and quite a distressed change grows on her face. •"t>h. not your lirst! Fred â€" iiu (loiiii! Tliat was your lirst! Oh! how could you throw it away like that ? Do you think we shall be able to find it again?" "If not." laughing. ""I can give .vou another." "Oh. no. That or no other. I'm sure 1 know the s|H->t where it foil, I " She stops short, i^nd colors violently. â- â€¢Vou what? " He take.s her hands and press^'S his lips to her pnl^iis. Perhaps he knuxs \that Is coiuiuk. "I watched vi-here it fell; I meant to go back and pick it up." says she bravely, but bliwhing until the tears come into her eyes. ""What? Even when you thought I was going away forever?" "Yes." "Xot a bit of it," says Ker, elos- injr his arms round her. '"I'll tell you what you thought â€" what you knew â€" that nothing on earth would induce me to go away, so long as a shred of chance remained to me that .vou would still relent and marry me'" I "I didn't know that. No indeed. I 'felt sure you didn't care â€" that you I would go!" "Well, you know now?" I "Yes. and I wonder at it," says she, still in an extremely abased frame of mind, "considering how bad I have been to you all along, ' "I am a wronged man; I acknow- Jedge that," says Ker. "As there was to be an alteration in the will. I wish all the money had been left; to me." "How gree-.iy of jou'" "N'ot at all. Greediness has noth- |ing to do with it. But such a will i would have enabled me to prove to you the truth of some words I said to you to-day. Do you remember them? You asked me if I w-ould marry you it you had not a penny in the world, and when I said -Yes,' you wouldn't believe me." "How could I?" reproachfully. "But I said it." "Yes â€" but in a tone." '"I meant it, however." says he earnestly. "Though I can't prove it. You have still â€" a penn.v!" â- No. Xo. Only a half-penny now," .says she with a delightful lit- tle glance. '-And you h,T.ve the other half. It is like the old broken sixpence! '•'Why," laughing, though a little shyly, "we must be lovers." ""For life' " sa.vs he. in a low tone. He draws her to him. THE END You may have observed that a bachelor can hold a baby almost as awkwardly as a woman can throw a stone. I ALL OVns. THE WOHLD. D odd's Kidney Pills Finding Their â- Way Into Every Civilized Country. While Canadians are struggling to got a firmer foothold in the British markets, there is one Canadian pro- duct that has got away ahead of tha agitation and now measures its mar- ket from the Baltic-waslied shores of the Denmark to where the sun glints oti the pyramids in the land of the Pharoahs. That purely Canadian product is Dodd's Kidney Pills. Among the letters that come in the daily mail oi The Dodd's Medi- cine Co., Limited, there are those marked with the stamps of almost every country in the world. A couple chat came in together the other morning shows how the fame of the great Canadian Kidne.v Remedy has spread. One is from Denmark anfl t'he other was penned by a true son of the Prophet in the office of the I Minister of Finance. Cairo. Egypt. It is noticeable that in the case of the Egyptian Dodd's Kidney Pills were perscribed by his doctor. In this respect the doctors of the anci- ent home of civiliiation are reading a lesson in frankne.ss to many of their brethren of the Anglo-Saxon race. The latter would probably have prescribed Dodd's Kidney Pills but used another name. But however that may be. the fact remains that wherever men are found there is Kidney Disease: and that no matter how or where Kid- ney Disease is found there is a de- mand for Dodd's Kidney Pills â€" the one remedy that has never tailed to cure it. I Tho letters referred to are as fol- lows: They are naturally interest- ing reading for Canadians. DODD'S KIDNEY PILLS IN EGYPT The Dodd's Medicine Co., Limited, Toronto, Ont. • Dear .Sirs, â€" I have been sufiering for some months from a Kidney Complaint. The doctor who attentl- ed me has roconunentied me to take your pills. 'Dodd's Kidne.v Pills." Alter two bo.xes 1 got some relief.. But. unfortunately. I have not been! a!>l.> to go on with the treatment, being unable to find any fills in Cairo. The Chemist who sold nie the two bo.xe.-^ ha.s informed me that he sent an order Cor some, aiul has been keeping me waiting for over one month. This is tho reuscii why I uu writing to you to have the good- ness to send me liy return of post six bo.xes for which 1 will pay as soon n.>* I receive them from tho post Kindly lot me know at the same time wliere ..our branch agency in 'â- -syP^ '^ *â- <' I'e found. Thanking you in anticipation, Mini.VMEI) RACHED. â- â€¢Immeubles Libres rte I'Ktat". [ OiKce of the Alinister of t^nance. Cairo. Egvpt. DODD'i:* KIDNEY PILLS IX UEN- M.\KK. The Dodd's Medicine Co., Limited, Toronto. Ont. Pear Sirs.â€" [ want to purchase sfx' ooxes of Dodd's Kidne.v I'ills, but I don't know exactly where to apply, 'at Toronto BulTalo or London. 1 suppose they can be sent b.v express or registered mail from any of these l>lares. Please odvi.se me of how to proceed in order to get the pills without delay. Yo\if\l,n]v. J. P. SIMOSSOX. Vibcig. V, Mark. liminarS. . .