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^IJK by Agatha Christie â- YHOPSIt. Oil a bleak ^.llKll^h »inliiH ufliriiouii a IMirtv of nciKlil^"". Balluiiil at the home of Mix WilltMl and h«T <lMUKhI<->' Violet, In thi- villagi' i<t Slltafoid. nt-ar Darlinoor, turn to tulile tlppinn fur umusi'mrnt anil rtcfUe a nu>K»aKc that I'aptuin Tr<-velyan tuiH been niurdtred. Major llurnabj InnlstM on KtttinK in I. mob wilb hlH friend, and ankB a liortcr lo a<-eom|>ur.y lilin. They find the eaii tain's body lyinn on tlje lloor room In eonfuHloii. the "Hf's (loiid?" ask<Hl Hiiriiiiby. The doctor noil<lf(l. Then ht tJirr ed to Graves. "It'ft you to say what's to bf done. I <an do nothinti exctpt cxuniiiic Hit body, and perhap.s you'd ratlier I didn't do that until the iiiHpettor comes. 1 can tell you tlif cause ot death now. Fracture of the base of the BkuU. And I think 1 can make a guess at the weaiwn." lie iiidlcntfd tlic lirecn baize tube. "Trevelyan always had them along the bottom of the door â€" to keep the draft out." said Hurnaby. His voice wab hoarse. -yesâ€" a very efficient form of sand- bag." "My God!" ••But this here " the constal)le broke in, his wits arriviUK at the puint slowly. "Vou meanâ€" this here is mur- der?" The policeman stepped to the table on which stood a telephone. Major Huriiaby apiiroaclicd the doc- tor. "Have you any idea," he said, breathing hard, "how long he's been dead?" "About two hour;". I should say, or possibly three. That's a rough estim- ate." Burnaby passed his tongue over dry lips. "Would you say," he asked", "that he might have been killed at five twenty-five?'' The doctor looked at him curiously. "If I had to give r time definitely, that's just about the time 1 would sug- gest." "Oh! my God," said Durnaby. â- Warren .stared at him. The Major felt his way blindly to a chair, collapsed on to it and muttered lo himself while a kind of staring terror overspread his face. "Five and twenty past five â€" Oh! my God, then it was true after all." It was the morning after the tragedy and two men were standing in the little study of Hazclmoor. Inspector Njirracott looked round him. A little frown appeared upon his forehead. "Ye-es," he said thoughtfully, "â- ye-es." Inspector Narracott was a very effi- cient officer. He had a tiuiet persist- ence, a logical mind and a keen atten- tion to detail •which brought him suc- cesH where many another man might have failed. He was a tall man with a quiet man- ner, rather far away gray eyes, and a slow, soft Devonshire voice. Summoned from Kxeter to take charge of the case, he had arrived on the first train that morning. The roads had been Impassable for cars, even with chains, otherwise he would have arrived the night before. He was standing now in Captain Trevel- yan's study, having just completed his examination of the room. With him was Hcrgeaut Pollock of the Kxhami>- ton police. "Ye-ea," said Inspector iXarracott. A ray of pale wintry sunshine came In through the window. Outside was the snowy landscape. There was a fence about a hundred yards from the window and beyond it the steep ascen- ding slope of the snow-covered hill- side. Inspector N'arracott bent once more over the b(jdy which had been left for his inspection. An athletic man him- wlf, he recojrnized the athlete's type, the broad shoulders, narrow flanks and the good muscular development. The head was .small and well set on the shoulders, and the pointed naval beard was carefully trimmed. Oai>- lain Trevelyan's age. he. had ascertain- ed, was sixty, but he looked not much more than fifty-one or two. "It's a curious business," said In- ipeclor Narrac ott. "Ah"! said Sergeant I'ollock. The other turned on liim. "What is your view of it?" "Wellâ€"" Serfteant F'ollock scratched his head. He was a cautious man, unwilling to advance further than ne- cessary. "Well," he .salil. "as 1 see It, sir. I •hould say tliat the man came to the window, forced the lock, and started rifling the room. Cai)tain Trevelyan, I iupiM>s«, must have bet-n upstairs. Itoubtk-ss the burglar thought the bouse WHS empty " . .. \ I " - Smokers Attention Buy the Bestâ€" Save Money (Tpon renlpt „t || 00 He will linniedl- jtely forward you by return mall i I'ackBKei 1-5 Ih. each Norfolk Planters (Favorite Blend) .Smoking Tobacco. RIate Whether yo\i wish CI nrelle or I'Ipe blendsâ€" Quality ginirnnteed A trial will rmn ini.e yo |ij not delay. 8«nd remittance to Almnor Tohacro (Vtmpany "9 Bay 8t, Toronto "Where is Captain Trevelyan's bed- room situated?" "Upstairs. Sir. Over this room." "At the present time of year It Is dark at four o'clock. If Captain Trevel- yan was up in his bcdrcnun the electric ligiit would have been on, the burglar would have seen it as he approaclied thi« window." 'You mean he'd liave waited." "No man in his senses would break into a house with a light in it." If any one forced this window â€" he did it because he thought the house was empty." Sergeant Pollock scratched his head. "Seems a bit odd, I admit. But there it is." "We'll let it i)ass for the moment. Go on." "Well, suppose the captain hears a noise downstairs. He comes down to investigate. The burglar hears him coming. He snatches up that bolster arrangement, gets behind the door, and as the captain enters the room strikes him down from behind." Inspector Narracott nodded. "Yes, that's true enough. He was struck down when he was facing the window. But all the same. Pollock, I don't like It." "No, sir?" "No, as 1 say, I don't believe in houses that are broken into at five o'clock in the afternoon." "We-ell, he may have thought It a good opportunity " "It is not a question of opportunity â€" slipping in because he found a win- dow unlatched. It was deliberate house-breaking â€" look at the confusion everywhere â€" what would a burglar go tor first? The pantry where the sil- ver is kept." "That's true enough," admitted the sergeant. "And tills confusionâ€" -this chaos," continued Narracott, "these drawers pulled out and their contents,-scatter- cd. Pah! It's bunkum." •'Bunkum?' "Look at the window, .Sergeant. That window was not locked and forc- ed open! It was merely shut and then splintered from the outside to give the appearance of forcing." Pollock examfned the latch of the window closely, uttering an ejacula- tion to himself as he did so. "You are right, sir," he said with respect in his voice. "Who'd have thought of that now!" "Someone who wishes to throw dust in our eyes â€" and hasn't succeeded." Sergeant Pollock was grateful for the "our." In such small ways did Inspector Narracott endear himself to his subordinates. "Then it wasn't burglary. You mean, sir, it was an inside job?" Ser- geant Pollock asked. Inspector Narracott nodded. "Yes," he said. "The only curious thing is, though, that I think the murderer did actually enter by the window. As you and Constable Graves reported, and as I can still see for myself, there are damp patches still visible where tho snow melted and was trodden in by the murderer's boots. These damp patches are only in this room. Graves was (julte positive there was nothing of the kind in the hall when he and Dr. Warren passed through It. In this room he noticed them immediately. In that case it seems clear that the murderer was admitted by Captain Trevelyan through the window. There- fore it must have been someone whom Captain Trevelyan knew. You are a local man, .Sergeant, can you tell me if Captain Trevelyan was a man who made enemies easily?" "No, sir, I should say he hadn't an enemy in the world. A bit keen on money, and a bit of a martinetâ€"would not stand for any slackness or inciv- ilityâ€" Init, bless my soul, he was re- spected for that." "No enemies," said Narracott, thouglitfully. "Not here, that is." "Very trueâ€" we come logically now to the next motiveâ€" the most i iitninon for every crime â€" gain. Captain Tre- velyan was, 1 undorstaiid, a rich man?'' "Very well to do, by all accounts. But dosi'. Not an easy man to touch for a subscription." "All!" said Narracott, thoughtfully. "Pity it snowed as it did," .aid the sergeant. "Hut for that we'd have had his footprints lo go on." "There was no one else in the house? " asked the inspector. "No. Kor the last live years Captain Trevelyan has only had one servant- retired naval chap. Up nt Siltnford House a woman came in daily, but Ibis chap, Kvans, cooked and looked after his master. About a month ago he got married â€" much (o the cap- Iain's ainioyanie. I l>elieve that's <uie of the reasons he let Sittaford House to this South African lady. He woulil not have any woman living in the house. Kvtfns lives just around the corner here in Fore .Street with his wife, and comes in daily to do for his master. I've got him here now for you lo see. <His statement is that he left lure at half past two yesterday after- noon, the captain having no further need for him." "Yes, I shall want to see him. He may be able to tell us something â€" useful. I think there's a lot more in this iBKe than meets the eye." "In what way. sir?" Hut llie llie Inspector refused lo be drawn. "You say this man, Kvans, is here now?"_ "He's walling In the diningrooiri." "Good, rjl see him straight away. What sort of a fellow Is he?" Sergeant Pollock was better at re- porting facts than at descriptive ac- curacy, "He's a retired naval chap. Ugly customer in a scrap, I should say." "Does he drink?' "Never been the worse for it that I know of." "What about this wife of his? Not a fancy of the captain's or anything of that sort?" "Oh! no, sir, nothing of that kind about Captain Trevelyan. He wasn't that kind at all. He was known as a woman hater, if anything." "And Evans was supposed to be de- voted to his master?" "That's the general idea, sir, and I think it would be known if he wasn't. Exhanipton's a small place." Inspector Narracott nodded. "Well," he said, "there's nothing more to be seen here. I'll interview Kvans and I'll take a look at the rest of the house and after that ho will go over to the Three Crowns and see this Major Burnaby. That remark of his about the time was curious. Twenty minutes past five, eh? He must know something he hasn't told, or why should he suggest the time ot the crime so accurately." The two men moved towards the door. (To Be Continued.) The Poet's t^ame Many the songs of jiower the poets wrought To shake the hearts of men. Yea, he •had caught The inarticulate and murmuring sound That comes at midnight from the dar- kened ground When the earth sleeps; for this he framed a word Ot human speech, and hearts were strangely stirred That listened. And for him the even- ing dew- Fell with a sbund of music, and the blue or the deep, starry stfy he had the art art To put in language that did seem a part Ot the great scope and progeny ot nature. In woods, or waves, or winds there was no creature Mysterious to him. Yea, that there was no secret of the earth. Nor of the waters under, nor the skies. That had been hidden from the poet's eyes ; By him there 'was no ocean unex- plored. Nor any savage coast that had not roared Its music in his ears. He loved the townâ€" Not less he loved the ever-deepening brown Ot summer twilights on the enchant- ed hills; And long would listen to the starts and thrills Of birds that sang and rustled in the trees. Or watch the footsteps of the wander- ing breeze And the quick, winged shadows flash- ing by. Or birds that slowly wheeled across the unclouded sky. â€"Richard Watson Gilder. Poems. (Boston: Houghton Miffin). .^ All knowledge begins and ends with wonder, but the first wonder is the child of ignorance, the second wonder is the parent of adoration. â€" Coleridge. A Photographer Reminiscences A press photographer will do any- thing to get the picture he wants. Dur- ing the wedding at Stockholm of the Belgian Crown Prince to the King ot Sweden's niece the assembled photo- graphers found their work exception- ally dilllcult because most of the cere- monies took place at night, or within the palace walls. The final ceremony, we are told by Mr. Bernard Grant, one ot three famous Fleet Street brothers, In "To the Four Corners," was the pre- senting ot the newly-married couple to the assembled citizens at the Town Hall. Even here no opportunities for good pictures arose, and the many royalties. Including the Kings and Queens ot Belgium, Sweden, Norway, and Denmark, prepared to leave the hall. The procession was passing slowly through the colonnades when "Billy" Field, one ot the newspaper- men, decided to make a last attempt. There was a great hush. Men of mark in the land stood with bowed heads paying homage with solemn dignity as befitted so great an occa- sion. Suddenly, cutting into this grandeur, stepped Field, right in tho Royal path. "Excuse me, your Majesty," he said, "but there are five photographers from London who have not been able to get a picture." "Oh, that will never do!" said the ever-genial King Gustav; and, break- ing up the procession, he called up the bridal couple and himself posed the group. The Suffragette in the Mall Luck often brings a photographer to the right spot at the right moment. One happened to be walking across Piccadilly Circus when he saw a man on the centre island shoot himself dead with a revolver. Mr. Grant was sent some years before the War to Buckingham Palace to photograph the King and Queen driving in state to open Parliament: Traffic being stopped, I had to walk from Admiralty Arch to the Palace; but it happened that I felt so ill that I was unable to make the full journey. About half-way along the Mall, there- fore, I stopped and awaited the Royal coach. It came â€" and less than ten yards away from where I stood a suffragette made a frantic effort to reach the King. She failed; but I got an unex- pected news picture tor no other rea- son than that I had a raging headache. Subjects, too, cause endless diffi- culty. Marie Corelli, for instance, hated to be photographed. Mr. Grant once went to Strattord-on-Avon to photograph a committee ot which she was chairman. She finally, agreed to pose with the others on condition that no flashlight was used: The light was very poor, making rather a long exposure necessary; and whenever I asked the people to keep still, everyone did so except the famous authoress â€" she immediately seized that particular moment to pat her hair and fidget about genera y. I noticed, however, that she sat quite still while I was preparing to make the exposure, and in the end I got a good picture when she thought I was doing something else. The late President Theodore Roose- velt and Lord Kitchener loathed b-- ing taken. In dealing with Lord Kitch- ener, Mr. Grant was told, "Always get on his left side and he probably won't see you" â€" the reason given being that his left eye had been injured in a bat- tle. Mr. Ramsay MacDonald, says Mr. Grant, "would like to abolish the photographers except during times of crisis and election"; Mr. Baldwin is "helpful, but he is no actor'; and Mr. Thomas "has never caught tho trick An English Beauty Entrant Miss Vera Fleck of London, England, submitted her photo to represent Eni;!isli pulch- ritude nt (lie Chicago World Fair and they announce she Is recelvinj, seriniia conslder- Dlion, ot helping the photognpliers to get interesting pictures." Mr. Lloyd George, with his flowing hair and pic- turesque appearance, is "a master at the art of pu'i'' 'â- y." The Identification Parade In common with uU press photo- graphers Mr. Grant has come into con- tact a good deal with crime and criminals. At Bow Street police sta- tion one day he was asked to join an identification parade. About a dozen men were lined up, and George Joseph Smith, the notorious "brides-in-the- bath' murderer, was brought out. He pushed roughly between myself and a man who was about his own build and wore a similar moustache. Two women appeared and walked slowly down the line. "There he is!" cried the elder wo- man, pointing at the murderer; and after a moment's hesitation she car- ried out the Inspector's instructions to touch him. As the hand fell upon his shoulder, Smith sprang back with a vicious snarl, shouting loudly, "It's a lie!" She has never seen me before!" His teeth were bared, and his eyes flashed in a fury as the police closed round and hustled him back to the cell. Smith eventually paid the penalty for his three murders. Marshall Hall's MInd-Fteading During the G enwood trial at Car- marthen in 1920 Mr. Grant spoke to Sir Edward Marshall Hall shortly af- ter he had finished his speech for the defence: "Well, what do you think ot it?" he said, turning to me. "An acquittal, almost certainly," I replied. "Yes," he said, "I think it will be all right. I am certain I have con- vinced all but two of the jury." He then told me where the two doubtful ones were sitting, and ex- plained that during a speech, and in fact, at all times, he made a practice ot trying to read the minds ot the various people in court. The Tricycle-Aeroplane Mr. Grant saw many of the pioneer airmen at work. At an early aviation meeting nt Doncaster was one amaz- ing little machine, constructed round a dilapidated old tricycle. The pilot, Mr. Edward Mines, calling loudly to his only mechanic, a weedy boy named George, prepared to take the air. Settling himself on the tricycle seat and grasping the handle-bars, he start- ed the engine. Nothing happened un- til George, straiining greatly, began to push behind. The added power caused man and machine to move across the ground, but almost at once disaster came. The cause was trivial. A piece ot string snapped and the saddle fell off, causing the airman to smash the star- board plane by falling on it. George added to the noise of the crash by pitching head-first into the mess ow- ing to the sudden stop. The intrepid aviator, we are told, picked up his machine and marched back to the hanger with it on his shoulder. George brought up the re^r with the bits that had falle. ott. Everybody who reads a newspaper and looks at the pictures as he eats his breakfast will enjoy Mr. Grant's book. He has dashed at full speed all ever tb:„ world in the .jurse of his duties â€" to Messina during the earth- quake, to West frica with- t!ie Prince ot Wales, to Fiji and Australia with tho Duke and Duchess of York, through wars in the Balkans, revolu- tions in Spain and elsewhere, and with the Grand Fleet during the 'icat War. The press photographer, equal- ly with the war correspondent, is the adventurer of Fleet Street, and is like- ly to remain so in spite of the many changes that have occui. ' since Mr. Grant began: When I see my younger colleagues rushing off to an aerodrome to join a waiting 'plane, I am reminded ot the time when the best I could do was to urge the boy who fetched the hansom to pick a good horse. Yet the spirit of the undertaking, he says, is the same. 'Both they and I used such speed as we could com- mand to its utmost limit." "It's An 111 Wind " Believe It or not, but It took the de- pression to bring a dying industry back to its feet and start paying divid- ends. Increased demand for oil lamii chim neys and lantern globes since hard times has been felt, resulted in the doubling ot working forces ot a gl.-tss company in Fort Smith, Ark., and huge increases In others. Glass products have been slumping since the "horse and buggy era." "Half the useful work in the world consists of combating the harmCiit work."â€" Bertrand Russell. The Leaf and the Log A Story For Children By Cyril John Davies "Tell me," said the Log to the Leal who had just settled upon it, "did you see much of the world as you sailed down the brook?" "Did I? I saw it all," replied the Leaf, still dizzy, after her long ride. "I suppose the Wind started you on your travels," said the Log. "Quite true," said the Leaf. "The Wind blew me oft a tree into a mead' ow and from there to the Stream. The Stream was so shallow that I could see everything in its bed." "How in^ teresting," replied the Log, politely. "And the banks were so low," weni on the Leaf, "that I was able to see over them to the rest of the world.'' "Go on,' begged the Log. "The Stream drifted slowl.v," said the Leaf. "It was so lazy that if any- thing stood in its way it curved around it instead of washing it away. But after some time more water flowed into it and made it stronger. At last it was a Brook. The Brook hurrieti along as if to make up for the time that the Stream had wasted. Present ly, we came to a hilly country and the Brook had to work very hard to gel through. It dug itself a deep bed and roared so dreadfully .that I was ter- ribly frightened." "How exciting!" exclaimed the Log. "It was exciting," agreed the Leaf. "The water turned muddy and the Brook picked up sticks and tin cans and old bottles and even stones. I was thrown from one side to another until I was soaked. Believe me, it was the most exciting ride 1 ever had." "It must have been," said the Log, enviously. Just then the Wind came along and lifted the Leaf into the Brook again. "Good-bye!" shouted the Leaf. But the roar ot the BrobTt drowned its voice and the Log heard nothing. And so the Log rolled on its side to dream ot the wonders it would see when the floods came and it, too, would get an exciting ride. Gems from Life's Scrap-booh Advice "Many receive advice, only the wisa profit by it." â€" Publius Syrus. "Agreeable advice is seldom useful advice." â€" Charles Reade. "Good counsel has no price." â€" Maz- siui. "The wisdom of man is not suifict ent to warrant him in advising God." â€" Mary Baker Eddy. "Whatever advice you give, be short." â€" Horace. - "The greatest trust between man and man is the trust o£ giving coun- sel." â€" Bacon. "Ho who can take advice is some- times superior to him who can give it." â€" Von Kuebel. "Harsh counsels have no effect; they are like hammers which are al- ways repulsed by the anvil." â€" Helve- tius. Alice: I hear you're planning to get married this spring. Mary: Yes, I plan to every •pring. You can remove scorch stains froH white goods by rubbing the spot witH a cut onion and then placing the gar mont in the sun. ISSUE No. 23â€" '33