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THE COLBORNE EXPRESS, COLBO! mm HEADON HILL law BEGIN HERE TO-DAY. Samuel Honeybun, retired English countryman, finds his rain gauge hUed with blood instead of water. And then comes news of the murder of--. Sir Francis Lathrop. Sir Francis daughter, Margaret, had planned to marry-- Sir Guy Lathrop against her fatn-er's wish, and suspicion is directed toward Sir Guy. But-- Adrian Klyne, private detective employed by Margaret, works on the theory that Honeybun may know something of the murder. To obtain evidence he poses as-- Rev. Charles Danvers, and takes up his residence at the inn close to Lathrop Grange. He leaves suddenly when blood is reported found '« **■ .ui^, ouuo.k. There he nvcwa-- Ted Knowles, reporter, returning from a fruitless call on Stampage. They discuss the latest angles in the mystery and agree to meet again NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY. The two men parted, Knowles going toward the station and Klyne along ih:> road marshward. His boots squealched in the sloppy mire, the wind-driven drops from his cap-peak blinded him, but he kept on to the rites of a fairly large house. There was no vegetation or shrubbery or coppice to veil a more stealthy '•cconnaisance, so Klyne marched boldly up to the weather-scaled front door and puiled the old-fashioned bell-chain. There was e »ng wait before th? door was cautiously opened by a hefty young man in shirt-sleeves and a striped waistcoat. He had the bi-< ps of a prize-fighter, but one of his arms was in a sling. The source of the blood? "-! want to seeTMr. Stampage," said Klyne. •There's a many does that as dont see him," was the reply. "I know he is in," persisted Klyne. "I met a man on the road not Ion? ago whom ha threatened to shoot." "I didn't know that, but it's the master all over," laughed the servant. "It's the way he'd treat you if he was in. which he ain't. He went out five minutes before you rang." ivyne looked the fellow over from head to foot and decided that he was ^ reaking the truth. Very well," he said. "I'll take your word for it and drop in on Mr. Stam-fcage lo-morrow." "Who shall I tell him called?" queried the servant. K'.yr.o did not answer, but turned : way to re-cross the uncultivated en-c'osur^which could not be dignified s name of garden. He was '^cTOve road, When away to there sounded the shril' by himseif, and half an hour later he was at Beccles. He was surprised and not a little gratified to find his jo alistic friend, Mr. Ted Knowles of the Planet, on the platform to receive him. "A little of each," was the frank ply. "The fact is the only decent hostelry in this one-horse plac crowded with Fleet Street boys from other papers. So I am in a private lodging, and I took the liberty of gaging a room for you, too. I knew you wouldn't want to be pestered by a herd of pushing youngsters, and I thought I might pick your brains an exclusive story if I got you on 1 "You shall," said Klyne shortly, "and with a reservation." No further reference was mad< the case till the two men had supped and lighted their pipes in the homely sitting room of their lodgings. "I reckon you didn't interview Stampage?" said Knowles. "At ans rate not to make him cough up any thing useful?" , "He coughed up enough, but not to me," replied Klyne. "Unfortunately I couldn't hear what he was saying. To begin at the beginning I got the dirty kick-out from the ruffian who answered the door. But I cam* with Stampage afterwards. Now look here, Ted. I am going to give you exclusive, eventually leading to scoop. But in return I want something." "Trust you for that," laughad Knowles. "What is it?" "A paragraph in the Planet. I shall dictate it, but it will fit in with the story I shall eventually give you. In fact it will lead up to, and be part of, that story." "Then it's a deal," the journalist assented. On that Klyne preceded to describe his experiences after being turned away from Mr. Stampage's front door --how he had followed up the sci from the marsh and peered into the - of a woman. Klyne halted acks and strove to locate its Th? light had quite failed now, the thick rain and the darkness of night 1.1 dir." all objects over thhty yards away" But his sense of direction told him'that the cry had ben raised out on the marsh and he went forward till he came to a plank bridge leading from Mr. Stampage's grounds to the sodden flats beyond. On the other side of the bridge he found himself on a raised embankment running out into the marsh. From some distance along the footway a great red eye was blinking at him. Creeping close, he was overjoyed to find that the red curtains did not quite nrtct in the middle. There was a narrow space through which he could peer into the interior. There was a woman there all right, but she did not look as if she had been screaming. On. the contrary she Kem.'d singularly complacent and on the Lest of terms with the tall, aus-| tere-visaged man in earnest conversa-; tion with her. The man was standing; Aip. while the woman was perched on j the edge of a rough table. And. wonder of wonders, the woman was Miss Adela Larkin, who by all j ] ules of geography and arithmetic < ught to have been in Cheverel Rec-; ory a hundred and fifty miles away. Kivr.c had no doubt that her compan-; ion" in the hut was Mr. Silas Stampage, the eminent surgeon, retired. from London practice, whose house on th; ;,re of the marsh he had just Jf only he could hear what was be-d'wiissed Klyne would cheerfully have parted with a handsome sum of money. From the movements of his lips the man appeared to be talking incessantly, but only a faint burr i each? 1 the watcher outside. Either he was speaking in a very low tone or j the glass of the closed window was too ir'.-l: to allow the passage of his Su idenly the moving lips grew rigid in their natural line)--a line denoting cruelty, as only the human mouth can. Klyr ■ shifted his gaze to Miss Adela lark:-. She was nodding and smiling, . then her clear young voice. vanquishing aM obstacles: ; Uncle Silas, that's Klyne marched boldly up to the weather-scaled front door. 6. 1927, It Will Delight You Perfectly balanced--superb in flavour. 11 SHORTISf PRIZE By David Kerr. One fine evening, about two hundred years ago, just as the sun was setting over London, a crowd of idler* might have been seen gathered around the door of Will's Coffee-house, which was then a kind of fashionable club, where all the wits and fine gentlemen of the town were wont to meet. These loungers were evidently waiting for someone of special note, for every now and them all heads were turned eagerly toward the corner of the street, and each man whispered to his neighbor: "Isn't lie comin; yet?" Suddenly there was a buzz of "Here he comes"! and a fat little man, in a rather shabby suit of black, with an eye as clear and bright as a hawk's came slowly through the crowd, which opened respectfully to let him pass. And well it might, for this old man was no other than John. Dryden, the most famous poet of his time, or (as many people then said and thought) of any other time either. Little did they dieani how small the name of John Dryden was one day to look beside that of another English writer, also calfed John, who had died in an obscure lodging only a few years before, old, blind, racked with gout and glad to get twenty-five dollars for the grandest epic poem ever written-- a poem of which some of us have heard under the name of "Paradise Lost." "Hurrah for Mr. Dryden!" roared a brawny fellow with a butcher's blue apron; "and long may he live to pitch, into the Dutch lubbers as they de- the " n : . " zone of possible mischief-making | "Nothing, shade more desirable than leav- | off the slip, ing Adela in the house of her sinister Roake would pull it off. It would suit; land and Holland was uncle. It was a case of choosing the | you all right if he did, wouldn't it? j Dryden s satires upon tl least of two evils. | "It doesn't matter to me, one way j more popular in England than any- Now that she had departed from i or the other," rejoined Mr. Larkin; thing else that he had written, Ruxton, her mysterious task, what- severely "You know enough of me,! They said he was a-gittln old, The crowd heartily applauded the ntiment, for the war between Eng-just over, and Dutch were might be, finished, he gratulated himself that he wa_ lieved from both the contingencies that had worried T ' ing compartment at the side star reporter he found himself noyed to find that if Miss Larkin had remained at Ruxton it would have been the greater of the two had apprehended the night before. He had always prided himself on being able to eliminate all human interest in the pawns in his games. It lowered his self-esteem to be glad that a girl not wholly free from suspicion was in personal danger. lo early was their train that it was not till they arrived at Colchester that they were able to procure that day's Planet. It contained the phoned report of the wild-fowler's hut incident, Imost word for word as Klyne had >ld it, and he rejoiced to see that Knowles had taken full credit for the performance. Tired and dusty, Adela reached the Rectory, on her return from the expedition to the scene of the third W£«fe£tSS2g ^polingWer jdye say that stout gentleman de of the father the side she had actually es-is?" asked a light-haired lad, whose oc /erely. I hope, to be sure that I should re-gret any misfortune to the Lath- j • id a porter, lookiug after the poet he entered the coffee-house; "1 my mind he looks just as fresh i the Lathrop mystery, and must turned away, making his way »r the plank bridge and so to 1. If Mr. Stampage was the ele she was in no danger from hy on e&rth had she loosed off [fitly scream? a train he sought out a seat ISSUE No. 1--'27. i wild-fowler's hut, to see the presumed | master of the house in conversation with a young woman who showed no signs of distress, though there was ! nobody else about who could have screamed. "Gcod stuff!" said Knowles. "That'll get 'era guessing. But it's a bit weird, eh? What do you make of it yourself, j Klyne?" "Not much yet," was the reply. "But I shall if you are a good boy and 'phone or wire that up for publication in to-morrow's issue of your stunt-hunting rag. But this is a point. You musn't drag me into it. No mention of a detective. Leave it to be inferred that you did the peeping in at the hut window." "That will suit me all right as the crime specialist of the paper," said Knowles. "But this isn't your die-, tated paragraph, is it?" "No," rejoined Klyne. "I shall call in at your office at noon to-morrow and give you that for publication next day. The journalist looked at the detective and chuckled: "Cute chap. Want to get me away by the first train in the morning and prevent my possible researches in this benighted county. Well, have it your own way. I'll probably get more out of you in the long run than I should out of myself. Wo will travel up together." In the morning the pair caught the early southbound train, and Klyne was glad to see Miss Adela Larkin board it after crossing from the branch line platform. He had regarded the removal of the press man from father poused ... that would not do at all. Following the train of thought induced by his hypocritical remark, she put the ques- "Have you seen anything of the Honeybuns of their new chauffeur?'" "Not of the Honeybuns. Wilmot brought a note of inquiry from the old man, asking if you had been heard from, which was absurd on the face of it. I sent back a verbal message that there hadn't been time, and that I didn't expect to hear tul you put in an appearance. Hullo, here he is again! They must have got nerves over at Latchfield." Wilmot was tapping softly at the window, mouthing horribly through the glass at the inmates. Mr. Larkin threw up the sash. "As you see, my daughter has returned," he addressed the monstrosity, the day after her de- «<Te-j Mr Honeybun that it is " right. Everything will be done cording to plan." The creature could not have van ed more quickly if the Rector had waved a magic wand over him. "I don't like Wilmot," sighed the Rector. "He is too sudden in his methods for me. Reprehensible of me to feel odium for a fellow-man, but I cannot help it. He causes nausea. Somehow I fear that ho has a hold over my dear friend and brother meteorologist, Samuel Honeybun." Adela regarded her sire with cool rain,' parture. The Reverend Mr. Larkin was waiting for her at the gate. A telegram had preceded her. "Well, did you meet with success?" purred the Rector. "Rather!" rejoined Adela. "I screamed like hell." Come indoors and tell me all about it," said Mr. Larkin. For a clergy-i singularly tolerant of his daughter's language. Perhaps he was too used to it to be disturbed. "Uncle Silas going strong?" he asked when they were within the haven of the study. too strong," replied the girl. "I conveyed the suggestion to that he should repeat the trick. ruddy cheeks and countrified d trayed that this was his first visit to London. "Who's he, do you say, Chawbacon?" answered his neighbor. "Why, where-ever can you have been livln' all your life, not to know him? That's Mr. John Dryden, the great poet, as dines with the king every day." "Dines with the king every day!" echoed the countryman, in amazement. "Eh, but I wish I was he." "You needn't tio that, my boy," said a sharp-looking little journeyman tailor; "for he's as poor as a rat, and owes a hundred guineas into the bargain. He'll see the inside of a debtor's prison afore long, or my name's not Timothy Smithson!" "Is that really so?" asked a tall, handsome man, in a very rich dress, who had just got out of his carriage at the door of the coffeehouse. "Are you oartain of what you say?" "Quite certain, if it please your lordship," answered the tailor, doffing his cap respectfully -- for Charles Sack-ville (Lord Dorset) was as well known in London as the dome of St. Paul's itself, being, in truth, the most generous a3 well as the richest of English nobles. "It's our people he owes th* bill to, and master says he means to get his money one way or another." The earl made no answer, but walked into the coffee-house, murmuring to | himself: "I could pay the debt easily enough, but it wouldn't please m., old friend to know that his difficulties are public talk. I must find some other way." The group assembled within was one which any painter would have loved to copy, for every man in it bore a name which will live as long as the history of England it*elf. There was the brilliant, witty, heart-lees Sir Charles- Sedley, many of whose sayings are still quoted by men that have forgotten who said. them. There were the smooth-tongued Arlington, and the boisterous Etaerege, and the ever-laughing Montague. There, too, was ths wild Duke of Buckingham, upon whose handsome features the mad career that destroyed the largest fortune and the strongest constitution in England had already stamped the Impress of premature age and untimely death. And there, somewhat wan and haggard from long excess, but still beautiful and graceful as ever, sat the wildest and wittiest, and most reckless of them ad! -- John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. "Welcome, my illustrous namesake!" oried Sedley, with his little twinkling laugh. "You come, as usual, just at the right moment. We are discussing which of us is the beet at writing an impromptu, and wo cannot agree." "I'll settle. It for you, then!" cried Dorset, struck with a sudden thought. "We Willi each write a piece of impromptu verse or prose, and Mr. Dryden, whose judgment no one can question, will honor us by naming the successful one." "Agreed!" cried all, with one voice. And to work they went at once, while Dryden, turning' n' 3 chair around watched them jjfa a smile which showed how ■ .enjoyed the post ass:. - ! Among the most famous wits of the day, one might well have oxpecte4 a very close and sharp contest, but to everyone's amazement, Dorset pushed his paper across the table to Dryden almost before any of the others had well begun theirs. "Our friend must have thought," whispered Etherage to Rochester, "that the prize was the quickest piece, not to the beet. His contribution must consist of nothing but. date and signature, judging from the time he's taken over it." "He looks pleased enough, however," answered Rochester, in the same tone. "Depend upon it, he baa hit on some good idea." It certainly appeared as if he had, for when all the impromptus were finished and handed in, Dryden, after a very brief examination of them, astonished every one by deciding in favor of Dorset. Rochester, who had fully expected the first place himself, eagerly snatched up Dorset's paper, and instantly broke into a slhout of laughter, echoed by all the rest, as they read the prize composition, which ran as follows: "Pay to John Dryden, on Demand, the Sum of One Hundred Juinea*.-- Dorset." I should imagine," sh< 'that it is as reprehensibj mm Lu»t ™ ouv-m ^^"V'T'wil"; picion as odium, whatever that may He thought it a good idea but he had; ^ perWIy; , shotuWt think £ the cheek to propose that rpt^ mattered much, what you felt against furnish the necessary fluid. That is ^ ^ ^ „ what I meant when I said that 1; J screamed He looked so blood-thirsty i The parlormaid knocked and en-that I simply had to. We were in a tered. beastly lonely place, tod--a hut on "Inspector Roake has called and the marshes--where we had gone for j would like to see you, sir, if you are privacy. However, I soon tamed him; not engaged," she announced, and he said he could manage all right ! "Show him in," was the order. "No, without me. It is for to-morrow j don't run away, Adela. It will save morning." i repetition if you hear what he has "Any sign of detectives?" queried j to say." the Rector. t The Larkins' tranquility was rude- "Absolutely none. My journey j ]y hrokeXi at the breakfast table next down and back was quite uneventful.; mOTning when the Rector opened his Anything fresh in these parts?" | planeti "Notmuch, except that fellow Dan-j „Jast ]isten to thj „ hfi hissed vers has left the inn though I under-; across the table and proce6ded to [ stand that he has not finally given 6P|read the paragraph which Klyne had: his room. Inspector Roake is still; dktated to Ted KnowIes in FIeet! there, and there is a rumor that he is : gtreet the d hard on the heels of Sir Guy. He ex-; vofOTOT,„Q + With reference to our announce-ineident in' the individuals who has claimed his* interest in connection with the Lathrop murder. Extraordinary developments are expected at an early Adela's sensitive lips quivered. "You must have been seen or heard," the Rector accused her. Meanwhile Klyne had come to the conclusion that little further was to be gained in the role of the Rev. Danvers. His landlord at the inn received a telegram from London announcing that Rev. Danvers had been summoned to Scotland and that cheque covering his bill was in t Following. will bend myself to Thy will, at last, and follow Thy direction-- Oh, carry me forward to my task, and to worship lift me up! -Marguerite Wilkinson, in "Citadels." alia. (To be continued.) Italy. w, fair Italy! f the world, the Of all Art yields, and Nature can de-Even in thy desert, what is like to Thy very weed's are beautiful, thy pects to make an arrest any minute." j ; nient about the ... I hope he will, said Adela warmly. \ our issue of yesterday we are ab7e1 Chinese fishermen paint ... 'I should just love to see that Roake: tQ state on the most rsl4ble authority 1 their boats to enable the boats to see nan put his loot in it. j that a detectivc engaged on the par.1 their way. "What's that? I didn't quite catch j €nt mystery has been at Ruxton in! ou," snapped the Rector. [Suffolk and there recognized one of For Colds--Minard's Liniment. To Fit the Occasion. As a disciplinary measure, it was customary in one household to make the offending member eat alone at a small table in the corner and repeat a verse from the Bible. On one occasion, while the other members of the family were assembled at the dinner table, the little boy in the corner was asked for his Bible quotation. He solemnly offered the following: "Thou prepares* a tabie before me in the presence of mine enemies." Explained. Farmer (using telephone)--"Send me over a bushel of oats." Clerk--"Surely. For whom?" "Don't try to joke with me--for my horse." Mit- lent for selfish Weighing 800 lbs., a was recently stranded on the rail OS an Atlantic liner after a great wave had washed over the vesse, during «