•-,%f F; y->^> *£$?.* • ~ f THB MCHENRY PI.AlKDKAXIilt. MaHEICKY. ILI* ,>' • By\.-- • WILUAM MacHARG EDWIN BALMER CBOy(i(tit by Little. Brown and >• a :< -r y CHAPTER XIX--Continued. CTk --18-- ' I She told him, beginning with her dlscorery. of Eaton in the parage and •tiding with his leaving her and with Donald Avery's finding her in the motor; and now she held back one word only--his name which he had told her, Hugh. Her father listened intently. "You and Mr. Eaton appear to have become rather well acquainted, Har riet," he said. "Has he told you nothing about himself which you have not told me? You have Been nothing concerning him, which yon have not told?" Her mind went quickly back to the polo game; she felt a flush, which his blind eyes could not see, dyeing her cheeks and forehead. The blind man waited for a moment ; he put out his hand and pressed the bell which called the steward. Neither spoke until the steward came. "Falrley," Santolne said then, quietly, "Miss Santolne and I have Just •greed that for the present all reports regarding the pursuit of the men who entered the study last night are to be made direct to me, not through Miss Santolne or Mr. Avery." "Very well, sir." 8he still sat silent after the steward bad gone; she thought for an Instant ber father had forgotten her presence; then he moved slightly. "That is all, dear," he said quietly. She got up and left him, and went to ber own rooms; she did not pretend to herself that she could rest. She bathed and dressed and went downstairs. The library bad windows facing to the west; she went in there and stood looking out. Her mind w-as upon only one thing-- even of that she could not think connectedly. Some years ago, something --she did not know what--had happened to Hugh; tonight. In some strange way unknown to her, it had culminated In her father's study. He had fought someone; he ha<) rushed away to follow 'someone. Whom? Had he heard that someone in the study and gone down? Had he been lighting their battle--her father's and • bers? She knew that was not so. Hugh had been fully dressed. What did it mean that he had said to her that these events would either destroy him or would send him back to ber as--as something different? Her thought supplied no answer. But whatever he bad done, whatever be might be, she knew his fate was hers now; for she had given herself to him utterly. She had told that to herself as she fled and pursued with him that night; she had told it to him; •he later had told it--though she had not meant to yet--to her father. She conld only pray now that out of the events of this night might not come a grief to ber too great for her to bear. She went to the rooms that had been Eaton's. The police, in stripping than of his possessions, had overlooked his cap; she found the bit of gray cloth and hugged it to her. She whispered his name to herself-- Hugh--that secret of his name which she had kept; she gloried that she had that secret with him Which she could keep from them alt, What wouldn't they give Just to share that with her-- bis name. Hugh! J She started suddenly, looking through the window. The east, above Abe lake, was beginning to grow gray. The dawn was coming! It was be-' ginning to be day! • She hurrigd to the other side of tM house, looking toward the west. How could she have left him, hurt and Needing and alone in the night! She could not have done that but that his asking her to go had told that it was for his safety as well as hers; she conld not help him any more then; she would only have been In the way. Bat now--she started to rush otit, but controlled herself; she had to stay In the house; that was where the first word would come if they caught him; and' then he would need her, how much more! The reporters on the lawn below her, seeing her at the win* dow, called up to her to know further particulars of what had happened and what the murder meant; she could see them plainly in the increasing light. She could see the lawn and the road before the house. Day had come. And with the coming of day, the uncertainty and disorder within and about the house seemed to increase. . . . But In the south wing, with its sound-proof doors and its windows closed against the nolr es from the lawn, there was silence; and In this silence, an exact, compelling, methodic machine was working; the mind ot Basil Santolne was striving, vainly as yet, but with growing chances of success, to fit together into the order In which they belonged and make clear the events of the night and all that bad gone before--arranging, ordering, testing, discarding, picking up again and reordering all that had happened since that other murder, of Gabriel Warden. , v • CHAPTER XX What One Can Do WithowTlyes. Three men--at least three men-- Jttd fought In the study In Santolne's presence. Eaton, it was certain, had been the only one from the house present when the first shots were fired, Had Eaton been alone against the Other two? Had Eaton been with one of the other two against the third? It appeared probable to Santolne that Baton had been alone, or had come •lone, to the study and had met his •pernles there. • - Santolne felt that the probabilities Were that Eaton's enemies had opened tte safe and had been surprised by Baton. But if they had opened the safe, they were nof only Eaton's enemies; they were also Santolne's; they were the men who threatened Santolne's trust. Those whom Eatdn had fought In room had had perfect opportunity killing Santoin^ if |1|PJ wis&SjdU,-) asltsdh put Santaine felt certain no one had Inade any attack upon him At any moment in the room; he had had no feeling, at any Instant, that any of the shots fired had been directed at him. Blatchford, too, had been unattacked until he had made it plain that he had recognized one of the Intruders; then, before Blatchford could call the name, he had been shot down. It was clear, then, that what had protected Santolne was his blindness; he had no doubt that. If he had been able to see and recognize the men In the room after the lights were turned on, he would have been shot down also. But Santolne recognized that this did not fully account for his Immunity. Two weeks before, an attack which had been meant for Eaton had struck down Santolne instead; and no further attempt against Eaton had been made until It had become publicly known that Santolne was not going to die. If Santolne's death would have served for Eaton's death two weeks before, why was Santolne immune now? Did possession of the contents of Santolne's safe accomplish the same thing as Santolne's death? Or more than his death for these men? For what men? It was not," Santolne wasi certain, Eaton's presence in the study which had so astounded Blatchford, Wallace and Eaton had passed days together, and Blatchford was accustomed to Eaton's presence In the house. Someone whom Blatchford knew and whose name--^antoine also would know and whose presence in the room was so strange and astonishing that Blatchford had tried to prepare Santolne for the announcement, had been there. The man wlwse name was on Blatchford's tongue, or the companion of that man, had shot Blatchford rather than let Santolne hear the name. He was beginning to find events fit themselves together; but they fitted Imperfectly as yet. Santolne knew that he lacked the key. Many men could profit by possessing the contents of Santolne's safe and might have shot Blatchford rather than let Santoine know their presence there; it was Impossible for Santoine to tell which among these many the man who had been in the study might be. Who Eaton's enemies were was equally unknown to Santolne. But there could be but one man--or at most one small group of men--who could be at the same time Eaton's enemy and Santolne's. To have known who Eaton was would have pointed this man to Santofhe. Gabriel Warden had had an appointment with a young man who had come from Asia and who--Warden had told his wife--he had discovered lately had been greatly wronged. Eaton, under Conductor Connery's questioning, had admitted himself to be that young man; Santoine had verified this and had learned that Eaton was, at least, the young man who had gone to Warden's house that night. But Gabriel Warden had not been allowed to help Eaton; so far from that, he had not even been allowed to meet and talk with Eaton; he had been called out, plainly, to prevent his meeting Eaton, and killed. Eaton disappeared and concealed himself at once after Warden's murder. apparently fearing that he would Ulso be attacked? But Eaton was not a man whom this personal fear would have restrained from coming forward later to tell why Warden had been killed. He had been urged to come forward and promised that others would give him help In Warden's place; still, he had concealed himself. This must mean that others than Warden could not help Eaton; Eaton evidently did not know, or else could not hope to prove, what Warden had discovered. Santoine held this thought In abeyance ; he would see later bow It checked with the facts. Eaton had remained In Seattle--or near Seattle--eleven days; apparently and to escape attack during that time, he had been able to conceal himself He had been obliged, however, to reveal himself when he took the train; and as soon as possible a desperate attempt had been made against him, which, through mistake, had struck down Santolne Instead of Eaton. Eaton had taken the train at Seattle because Santoine was on It; he had done thfs at great risk to himself. The possibilities were that Eaton had taken the train to inform Santoine of something or to learn something from him. But Eaton had had ample opportunity since to Inform Santolne of anything he wished: and he had not only not informed him of anything, but had refused consistently and determinedly to answer any of Santolne's questions. It was to learn something from Santoine, then, that Eaton had taken the train. The blind man turned upon his bed; he was finding that events fitted together perfectly. He felt certain now that^Eaton had gone to Gabriel Warden expecting to get from Warden some luformatlon that he needed, and that to prevent Warden's giving him this. Warden had been killed. Then Warden's death had caused Santolne to go to Seattle and take charge of many of Warden's affairs; Eaton had thought that the Information which had been In Warden's possession might now be in Santolne's; Eaton, therefore, had followed Santolne onto the train. The Inference was plain that something which would have given Santolne the information Warden had had and which Eaton now required had been brought into Santolne's house and put In Santolne's safe. It was to get possession of this "something' before it hfd reached Santoine that the safe had been forced. Santolne put out his hqnd. and pressed a 'bell.' A sOtvant cafbe to the door. "W^ll you find Miss Santolne," the blind man directed, "and ask ber to come here?" The servant withdrew. 4 •v*.- ..Santolne waited- Presently tb«tjjoor agaln opened, and he heard bis daughter's step. "Have you listed what was taken from the safe, Harriet f "Not yet. Father." The blind man thought an instant. "Harriet, something has been brought Into the house---or the planner of keeping something in the house has been changed--within a very few days --since the time, I think, when the attempt to run Eaton down with the motor car was made. What was that 'something'?" • His daughter reflected. "The draft of the new agreement about the Latron properties and the lists of stockholders In the properties which came through Mr. Warden's office," ibe replied. "Those were In the safe?" "Yes; you had not given me any Instructions about them, so T had put them in the other safe; but when I went to get the correspondence I saw them there and put them with the correspondence In my own safe." Santoine lay stUf/ "Who besides Donald knew that" you did that, Daughter?" M asked. "No one." > "Thank yon." i . H • • Harriet recognized this as dismissal and went out. The blind man felt the blood beating fiercely in his temples and at his finger-tips. It amazed, astounded him to realize that Warden's murder and all that had followed it had sprung from the Latron case. He recollected that he had been vaguely conscious ever since Latron's murder of something strained, something not wholly open, In his relations with those men whose Interests had been most closely allied with Latron's. It had been nothing open, nothing palpable; It was only that he had felt at times In them a knowledge of some general condition governing them which was not wholly known to himself. Whoever Blatchford had seen was someone well known to him, whose presence had been so amazing that speech had failed Blatchford for the moment and he had feared the effect of the announcement on Santoine. This could have been only the principal himself. Some circumstance which Santolne comprehended only Imperfectly as yet had forced this man to come out from behind his agents and to act even at the risk of revealing himself. It was "Have You Listed What Was Taken From the 8afs, Harriet?" Santoine Aaked. probably he who, finding Blatchford's presence made revealment Inevitable, had killed Blatchford. But these circumstances gave Santolne no clew us to who the man might be. The blind man tried vainly to guess. The only circumstance regarding the man of which Santolne now felt sure was that he was one of the many concerned In the Latron case or with the Latron properties. "What time is It?" the blind man suddenly asked the nurse. "It is nearly noon, Mr. Santolne." "Will you leave me alone for a few moments?" he directed. He listened till he heard the door close behind the nurse; then be seized the private 'phone beside his bed and called his broker. "How is the market?" he inquired. There was something approaching to a panic on the stock exchange, it appeared. Some movement, arising from causes not yet clear, had dropped the bottom out of a score of Important stocks. "How Is Pacific Midlands?" Santoine asked. "It led the decline." Santoine felt the blood In his temples. "M. and N. Smelters?" he asked. ~ "Down seven points.* "S. F. and Dr* , "Eight points off." Santolne's hand, holding tbe telephone, shook In Its agitation; his head was hot from the blood rushing through It, his body was chilled. An Idea so strange, so astounding, so Incredible as It first had come to him that his feelings refused It t*>otigh his reason told him it was the only possible condition which could account for all the facts, now was being made all but certain. He nam ' stock after stock; all were down--seriously depressed or had been supported only by a desperate effort of their chief holders. The blind man could write as well as any other by following the position of the lines with the fingers of his left hand. He wrote a short note swiftly now, folded, sealed and addressed It and handed it to the servant. "Have that delivered by a messenger at once," he directed. "There will be no written answer, I think; only something sent back--a photograph. See that it is brought to me at once." He heard the servant's footsteps going rapidly away. He was shaking with anger, horror, resentment; he was almost--not quite--sure qow of all that had taken place; of why Warden had been murdered, of what vague shafe had moved behind and guided all that had happened since. He recalled Eaton's voice as he had heard It first on the train at Seattle; and now he was almost sure--not quite--that he could place that voice, that he knew where he had heard it before. He lay with clenched hands, shaking with rage; then by effort of his will he put these thoughts away. The nurse reminded him again of his need for food. "I want nothing now," he said. "Have it ready when I wake up. When the doctor comes, tell him I am going to get up today and dress." He turned and stretched himself upon his bed; so, finally, hesi^Rt, r CHAPTER XXI The .Man Hunt. Ifet rolling, ravin e-gul Had land where Harriet had left Eaton was wooded thickly with oaks, maples and ash; the glare from the burning bridge lighted the ravine for only a little way; Eaton had gained the bottom of the ravine beyond the point where this light would have made him visible and had made the best speed he could along it away from the lights and voices on the road. This speed was not very great; his stockinged feet sank to their ankles In the soft mud of the ravine; and when, realizing that he was leaving a trace easily followed even by lantern-light, he clambered to the steep side and tried to travel along its .slope, he found his progress slower still. In the darkness he crashed sometimes full against the tree-trunks; bushes which he could not see seized and held him, rlppli and tearing at his clothes; invisible, fallen saplings tripped him, and he stepped into unseen holes which threw ifim headlong, so that twice he rolled clear to the bottom of the ravine with fierce, hot pains which nearly deprived him of his senses shooting through ills wounded shoulder. ^ When he had made, as he thought, fully three-quarters of a mile dnd must be, allowing for the wlnding\of the ravine, at least half a mile fr< his pursuers, he climbed to the brii of the* bank and looked back. He was not, as he had thought, half a mile from the road; he was not a quarter of a mile; he could still see plainly the lights of the three motorcars upon the road and men moving in the flare of these lights. He wus certain that he had recognized the figure of Avery among these men. Pursuit of him, however, appeared to have been checked for the moment; he heard neither voices nor any movement in the woods. Eaton, panting, threw himself down to recover breath and strength to think. There 'was no question In Eaton's mind what his fate would be if he surrendered to, or was captured by, his pursuers. What he had seen In Santolne's study an hour before was so unbelievable, so completely undemonstrable unless he himself conld prove .his story that he felt that he would receive no credence. Blatchford, who had seen It In the light in the study, was dead; Santolne, who would have seen it if he had had eyes, was blind. Eaton, still almost stunned and yet wildly excited by that sight, felt only. In the mad confusion of his senses, the futility of telling what he had seen unless he were in a position to prov«Ljt. Those opposed to him would put his statement aside with the mere answer that he was lying; the most charitably Inclined would think only that what he had been through had driven him insane*. Eaton understood that his possibility of escape was very small, even If escape had been his only object; but Eaton's problem was not one of escape-- It was to find those he pursued and make certain that they were captured at the same time be was; and, as he crouched panting on the damp earth, he was thinking only of that. (TO BE CONTINUED.) i The Best Ever. She wrs a little girl. aQ6 M they made their way in and out among the other couples she allowed her cheek to rest against his manly chest. "Oh, Bill I" called out an irreverent youth as he sailed by. "What?" L "That's a nice faet jrov have oa your watch."--Judge. ° -Cf-Cf-Ci e'tteftetteftetreftefteAett BUTTONS ONCE SERVED PURPOSE In Old Times There Was Good Rea soft for the Present Merely "Ornamental" Appendages. f A well-known speaker recently engaged in some captious remarks at a gathering of women, upon the frivolities of fashion particularly as concerned women's dress. He was getting considerable fun out of It until one of the ladies Interrupted him and asked what the buttons on the back of his coat were for. They are clearly superfluous and just as much out of place as some of the feminine foibles he was criticizing. He was unable to answer the question, whereupon the laugh was on him. The useless and supposedly ornamental extra buttons on a ruai/s -dress -c/ialt are relics of horseback-riding days, when It was customary to button up the skirts of the coat to prevent sitting upon them or getting t4ke linings soiled from the horse. The slit up the back of the coat calgluaUy served tb* same £ood psr- ( \ S t . - 9 ir ti Allowed in Dreis Never has there been a season when greater liberty Is allowed In dress, observes a Paris fashion correspondent In the New York Tribune. It is absolutely the moment when a woman may wear what pleases her best. One speaks of prints as the new note, but they are not really new. It is their emphasis, perhaps, which is new, because there is a host of them. Lace is not new, but there are many lace dresses. Wide skirts are no novelty, b«t these crinoline effects are shown by everybody. Berthas came In as a noveity last season, but they again adorn many frocks. Bead embroideries continue to claim a fair proportion of attention. Silk and metal embroideries are more than ever In vogue, despite the fact that throughout the winter season just passed they have been seen on every kind of garment . One of - Drecoll's most beautiful dresses Is made of lace combined with black satin. It well deserves its name, "Festival," despite its somber tone. It is all in black except the beautiful embroidered motif forming the cein- Very'Popular Model of the Season. It Is Constructed of Crepe de Chine, Cascading Drapery Being a Strong Feature. ture across tbe front and lifting tbe drapery In a high stomach effect, emphasized In so many of the recent models. The lace forms a long cape back in an unusually charming way. Lanvln and lace are easily associated' because of the fact that this maker has had so much to do with the vogue for wide-skirted dresses. Lace lends itself very well to this Idea. Distinctly interesting are Lanvin's dinner dresses in black, white and silver lace in which the oversklrt of lace is draped on a straight chemise foundation, but the lace oversklrt is so mounted with its thickly corded shlrrlngs, with its uneven hem and huge butterfly bow In brilliant contrast that It gives a dashing note. So much for cleverness which takes the most classic Idea and by a clever twist changes it into a high novelty. Polonaise and Bustle Effeetfc Philippe & Gaston make rather dressy things In lace, often combining beige and brown. This house also affects the cape back on many of Its models, the result being dignified dresses for matrons of conservative taste. Prints are everywhere, especially those In Cambodge designs; that is to say, Hlndo-Chlnese. Drecoll has a tovely model to which he gives the name Cambodge. This is developed in an Oriental printed crepe marocain combined with navy blue reps, a material which the French like very much. This is a charming little polonaise effect made of the printed silk over • skirt of navy blue, tbe printed drapery being hiked up in the back In the form of a cascading bow. Almost every little blue serge threepiece suit has its top of some printed material. Agnes has made a most attractive model by choosing her foulard so discreetly, using more frequently than anything else green and whits and navy prints In connection with blue serge. Jenny shows some interesting cloth dresses, a most successful mode! being one of black reps which has a snakelike ornament encircling the body, the snake being made of a black and gold braid startllngly natural. This dress has a charming swing to it, but if one does not like the snake Jenny replaces this ornamentation with a most fascinating rainbow colored soutache, almost as fine as a silk thread, and to be had in every imaginable color, cleverly assembled to make most satisfying combinations. Jenny uses quantities of moussellne and a great deal of ^lece lace in her afternoon dresses, fl'rid some of them have very original lines; for instance, -a black lace called Ariane has a straight fourreau covered with lace upon which lace panels flow from the belt; these are about nine Inches wide and have a beaded edge. Similar panels which alternate with these hang from the shoulders, floating above the belt. There are also a number of lace berthas which are quite long enough to form boleros. Double Waistline Achieved. The dresses, In spite of their floating panels, are very straight in effect, as the underlining is tight and quite short. Such dresses have very original belts that are narrow and In two divisions, one Just below tbe waist and one falling at the hips. In one case there is a serpent of beads which Is wrapped three or four times around the body, quite loosely above the waist and tighter about the hips. This maker keeps to her tradition of fluffy evening dresses, using much lace and moussellne de sole; many of the lace skirts are very full on the hips, and, unlike most of the full hlp-sklrts, are extremely short, reaching almost to the knees. The silhouette is quite pretty because the waist is rather short. There may be some sort of trimming, such as bands of embroidery or of flowers, a quarter of a yard deep, on the hips, which causes the fullness to stand out without Its being padded in any way. Organdie dresses are also made In this way, wflth two plaits, causing the hips to stand out. Most skirts of this sort are split open up to the waist In frcpt and float aside, showing a very close little under-slip, which Is of a plain taffeta or crepe embroidered with a delicate design. This is a very successful solution of the full skirt Idea, and as the waist above Is not too closely fitted, the Impression is of an up-to-date dress gather than of a picture idea. Polret is showing braid-trimmed dresses, lie uses extremely narrow braids in brilliant colors on crepe de chine and crepe marocain. He adds little tassels In silk of brilliant colors. He Is affecting the one-side closing of uneven cut which closes high--Madeleine Vlonnet's successful and novel front closing. Short Jacketed Suits in Lead pose. The buttons on the sleeves are inherited from the days when a really dashing blade had frequent necessity for turning up the sleeves of his coat to give his sword-arm play. Then the buttons served a real need. Finally the turned-np sleeve and Its lining became a cuff that could no longer be turned down and the buttons feframt merely traditional. . Work' and Play. It Is trqe that "all work and no play makcfo .Tack a dull boy," but equally true that all play and no work unfits any man for real usefulness. Happy is the man who correctly apportions both, for be has joy In his work also. The short jacketed suits take precedence over other styles from a standpoint of numbers as well as variation. Particularly does the short jacket Btand out among the models by socalled fashion leaders such as Chanel, Jenny, Drecoll, Polret, Beer and Agnes. Some of the models are so simple as to make one wonder why they are put out as models, but then one must admit their charm, and that probably is the answer. Worth shows many little all-over embroidered Jackets to be worn with simple cloth skirts. Patou has beaded Jackets with wool rep skirts. Beer shows a beautiful green rep suit in a short jacket In which the collar, cur's and girdle are covered with a bead embroidery picked out In green and black. The straight little Jacket has Interesting tucked fullness in both the body and sleeves and there are plaited side panels In the skirt. Lanvin affects large bows, and an Impressive note for an evening costume Is often given through the placing of a smashing bow in marked contrast to the dress. Lanvin has designed a lovely evening dress in white satin with a sprinkling, star-like design, almost a constellation, done in sliver embroidery, crystal beads and jets. At the back is a huge bow In black satlp. ; 'r • 8port Sashes. Sport snshes for summer sport wear are of satin ribbon from seven to ten inches wide and are embroidered at ends In oriental deslghs, Japanese, Indian and Egyptian being especially flavored. Whatever the design, it is carried out most effectively with very narrow-- plain or pllsse--ribbon. The pllsse ribbon Is particularly adapted to the stamped design, as it is decorative in Itself and gives the effect of shirring without having to be shirred. Qodei Models. The godet frock, with circular panels at one or both sides, and the drapery gathered into a large chou, Is popular for spring, in spite of its winter vogue. It is particularly adapted to satins an{l crepes. Things Women Should Know About on* Words "Coined" by Poets. Shakespeare was tbe first man te use the word "hurry," and he also coined the word "dwindle." Spenset made the word '•elfin," and Mlltoo coined "pandemoQluatk" King Cotton was never so handsomely crownerf. The French even go so far as to use beautiful cottpn stuffs for evening gowns. Very Important Is the Increasing vogue for velvet as a trimming and facing on straw hats. Velvet ribbons ranging in width from two to six Inches are extensively used. Cotton crepe Is particularly prominent this season, and rapine and eponge are enjoying a wide representation. To the plain eponges is added a good sprinkling of plaids, pebble effects and dropstitch patterns. These make excellent street dresses, cut on straight chemise lines and semi-tailored. Plain voiles are hand drawn In new patterns, and In the pastel colors the effect Is often exquisite without being expensive. The cotton crepe is occasionally hand drawn, but a newer decoration for it Is the multi-colored embroidery In Rumanian design. The short sleeve is well nigh universal In these cotton and linen frocks, /. at all, but Just a frill or a band over the shoulder. Round, square and bateau necks are all represented. Waistlines are not strikingly low, and In the girlish, full-skirted types are very near to normal. In the color trend violet again is being tentatively launched. In fact, not only In millinery, but In Jhe fabric world as well, the feeling is gradtially gaining ground that violets, namely, the scale of blue purples, again will come into vogue. Effective use Is made of fagoted bands in the frocks of voile and georgette for summer. It Is an inexpensive trimming, but gives an openwork that is very decorative. It is easier to do than hemstitching. Platinum and beige fox scarfs are the most important types of summer neckwear. Platinum is thought to be a little preferable to beige, as it is a more neutral color. Brown fox will be seen a great deal, as It Is less costly than the lighter furs and is a good all- GETS FULL PROOF Uf HIS OWN CASE Morfock Lost Weight and Suf-I1 fered Whole Year With- $ out Relief. - have found out from personal e*». perience the merits of Tanlac, and I. i could talk about it all day and never^ get tired," is the statement of Alfred*;. R. Morlock well-known advertisings' man, of 1400 N. Hamlin Ave., Chi-* cago. 111. "Before I took Tanlac I was In •',• badly run-down condition and felt soiif out of sorts for nearly a year I hardly^ bad energy enough to do my work. * My nerves were all frayed, I couldn't sleep soundly, and I suffered terribly with indigestion. 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