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:7"..;§‘$W§E To} arc-12: ‘A. - tical purposes 'fall out of ii: i t i 'll'L'E“ A. TTIâ€"r‘ll-FTTTT‘FT'TWIIIIIIH'f‘râ€"râ€"III OR, if? hâ€"-â€" CHAPTER I. David Steel dropped his eyes from the mirror and shuddered as a man who sees his own soul barcd for the first time. And yet the mirror was in itself a thing of artistic beau- tyâ€"engraved Florentine glass in_ a frame of deep old Flemish oak. The novelist had purchased it in llruges, and'now it stood as a joy and a thing of beauty against the full red wall over the fireplace, And Steel had glanced at himself therein and seen murder in his eyes. He. dropped into a chair with a groan for his own helplessness. Men have done that kind of thing before when the cartridges are all gone and the bayonets are twisted and broken and the brown waves of the foe come snarling over the bi'eastworks. And then they die doggedly with the stones 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 lighter to his linger-tips. He had dogged deterâ€" mination and splendid physical courâ€" age; he had gradually thrust his way into the front rank of living novel- ists, though the taste of poverty was still bitter in his mouth. And how good success was now that it had come! 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 panâ€" elled walls. The whole thing was still a constant pleasure to Steel’s artistic mind. The dark walls, the old oak and silver, the rezl shades, and the high, artistic fittings soothâ€" ' ed him and pleased him, and played upon his tender imagination. 'And behind there was a. study, iilled with bo'oks and engravings, and beyond that again a conserVatory, iilledl 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 left. hand for his telephone and call Fleet Street to his car. It was all unique, delightful, the dream of 'an artistic soul realized. Three years before David Steel had worked in an attic at a bare deal table, and his mother had £3 per week to pay for everything. Usually there was balm in this “recollection. But not to~n-ight, Heaven help him, not toâ€"night! Little grinning demâ€" ons were dancing on the oak corniâ€" ces, there were mocking lights gleam- ing from Cellini tankards that Steel had given far too much money for.l 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 \vere 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. In. two years’ time Steel would be well off. He. was terribly short of ready 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 novels of his were respectively in their fourth and fifth editions. But these novels of his he had more or loss given away, and he ground his teeth as he thought of it. Still, everything spelt. prosperity. If he lived, David Steel was bound to become a rich man. And yet he was ruined. Within twentyâ€"four hours everything would pass out of his hands. To all prac- it had done-so a1â€" rcady. And all for the want of £1,- 000! Steel had earned twice that amount during the past twelve months, and the fruits of his labor Were as balm to his soul about him. Within the next twelve months he could pay the debt three times over. He would cheerfully havetaken the bill and doubled the amount for six months’ delay, 'And all this because he had become surety for an abscon’ding brother. Steel had put his pride in his pocket and interviewed his creditor, a little, polite, mild-eyed financier, who meant to have his money to the ut- termost farthing. , At first he had been suave and sympathetic until he had discovered that Steel bad debts elsewhere, and thenâ€"â€" Well, he had signed judgment, an toâ€"morrow he could leVy execution. Within a few hours the bottom would the universe so far 'as Steel was concerned. Within a few hours every butcher and baker and candlestickâ€"maker would come abuâ€" sively for his bill. Steel, who could l have faced a.,r¢giment,.- recalled .fear; fully-from that. ' -Within “a weekhis oak and silver would have to be sold I‘ and the passion flower would wither on the walls. 7, Steel had not told anybody yet; the strong man had grappled with his trouble n'lone. Had he been a man of burr some WP' \8 he might. have found 10f tho difficulty. Even __.___ i A MlDNiGHT CALL J..L_i.f-.J_L1_1_Li_i._i' ' l l ' "75.1.1" 4.14.1.1.‘ ' '-'u_i_u_|.1_u_LL.LI.LI_L_i_i_i_L.L d I __..___ -____.._.. l ' l ‘ ' ' ' ' "‘44.!" .‘LLL‘Hu."_i13x_i_i_i_LL""‘.i.'L‘_|_Ll' I‘El his mother didn't know. She was asleep upstairs, perhaps dreaming of her son’s greatness. What would the dear old mater say when she knew? Well, she had been a good mother to him, and it had been a, labor of love to furnish the house for her as I ifor himself. Perhaps there would be Ia few tears in those gentle eyes, but 5110 more. Thank God, no reproaches ith‘ere. i David lighted a cigarette and pac- led restless-1y round the diningâ€"room. Never had he appreciated its quiet beauty more than he did now. There were flowers, blood-red flowers, on the table under the graceful electric istand that Steel had designed himâ€" iself. I-Ie snapped off the light as if the sight pained him, and strode inâ€" to his study. For a time he stood moodily gazing at his flowers and ferns. How every leaf there was pregnant with association. There was the Moorish clock droning the midnight hour. When Steel had brought that clockâ€"â€" “Ting, ting, ting. Pring, pring, pring, pring. Ting, ting, ting, 'But Steel heard nothing. Everyâ€" thing seemcd as silent as the. grave. It was only by a kind of inner conâ€" sciousness that he knew the hour to be midnight. Midnight meant the .cozning of the‘last day. After sunâ€" rise some greasy lounger pregnant of cheap tobacco Would come in and am isumc that he represented the sheriff, bills would be hung like banners on the outward walls, and thenâ€"â€" “Pring, pring, pring. Ting, ting, ‘ ting.” ting, ting, tingl ting, ting. Pring, pring, pring,” Bells, somewhere. Like. the bells in the valley where the old Vicarage Iumd to stand. Steel vaguely wonâ€" dered who now lived in the house where he was born. He was staring in the most absent way at his tclch phone, utterly unconscious of: the shrill impatience of the little voice. He saw the quick pulsation of thel striker and he came. back to earth again. Jeff-cries of the 'Weekly Messenger,’ of course. Jefferics was fond of a late chat on the telephone. Steel (wondered, grimly, if Jefferies would lend him £1,000. lie flung himself down in a. deep lounge chair and plac- -ed the receiver to his ear. By the ldcep, hoarse, clang of the wires, a longvdistance message, assuredly. "From London, evidently. IIalloa, lLondonl 'Are. you there?” . London nesponded that it was. A clear, soft voice spoke at length. “Is that you, Mr. Steel? Are you quite alone? Under the circum- stances you are. not busy toâ€"night ?” Steel started. He had never heard ythe voice before. It was clear and soft and commanding, and yet there was just a irony in it. “I’m not very Steel replied. me?” "That for the present we need not go into,” said the mocking voice. "As certain old-fashioned contempor- 'aries of yours would say, ‘We meet as strangers!’ Stranger yet, you are quite alone! “I am quite alone. Indeed, I am the only one up in the house.” I "Good. I have told the exchange people not to ring ofl' till I have finished with you. One advantage of telephoning at this hour is that one is tolerany free from interrup- tion. So your mother is asleep? Have you told her what is likely to {happen toyon before many [have elapsed?" Steel made 'no reply for a. moment. He was restless and ill at ease toâ€" ,night, and it seemed just possible ithat his imagination was playing 'him strange tricks. But no. The Moorish clock .in its: frame of cele- brities 'droned the quarter after twelve; the scent of the Dijon roses floated in from the conservatory. "I have told nobody as yet,” Steel lsaid, hoai'sely. “Who in the name 'of Heaven are you. "That in good time. But I. did not think ‘you were a coward.” “No man has ever told me soâ€" face to face." - "Good again. I recognise the fighting ring in your voice. If you lack certain phases of moral. courage, you are a man of pluck and resource. Now, somebody who is very dear to me is at present in Brighton, not very'far from your own house. She is in dire need of assistance. You also are in dire need of assistance. We can be of mutual advantage to one another." “What do you mean by that?" Steel whispered. "I want you to help my friend, andhin return I will help you. Bear in mind that I am askingyou to «loâ€"nothing. wrong. If you civill= spromise mic v toga «to 11 ~ cerâ€" ~tain~ address in~Bright0n toâ€"znight land sec myfriend, I promise that be- 'fm'c-you sleep the sum of £1,000 in Ilian-k ofEngland notes shallbe in iyour possession.” I No reply came from Steel. ‘f-le :eould not have spoken at that mo- |Imimt for the fee-simple of Golconda. He could only hang gasping to the busy to-night,” "Who is speaking to suspicion of mocking 1 hours . Many a strange and weird plot came and went in that Versatile brain, but never one more wild than this. Apparently no reâ€" ply was expected, for the speaker resumed :â€" "I am asking you to do no wrong. You may naturally desire to know why my friend does not come. to you. ,_j'_l‘hat must remain my secret, our secret. We are trusting you beâ€" cause we know you to be a gentle- man, but we. have. enemies who are ever on the watch. All you have to do is to go to a certain place and give a certain woman information. You are 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, telephone. clear voice until it was al- most pleading. "You have taken vantage," Steel knowâ€"-” (To be Continued.) me at a. disadâ€" said. “And you .__' atnewrewiniwiwriwrwwiw A Girl’s Caprice 5;: '1' n- V: +r+er+eee++ creareetrereeerr+ee+¢e u,mw,nflmy, CHAPTER XV I. "Ch, Miss l-lilary, I thought ye’d nivir come! The niasther is in sich a state! What wid sendin’ to the (1001' for ye ivory minit and the ould man in the study!” l “The old man in the study?” "Yes, miss. Ilaal ould! The. misâ€" lthress tould me to stand on the hall- doorâ€"step, an’ bring ye in, whin ye came, an’ l'vlisther Ker if he was wid ye. An’ sure,” with a merry glance from between her roguish Irish lids, “where would he be but there?” “But,”â€"â€"Ker is standing a good way behind, “why, bridget‘?” “Faix, I don’t know, miss. Barâ€" rin’ it is the ould gi’ntleman that’s ithe cause of it. éTown, I’m thinkin’; a sort of a grand sort of law man, an’ it's something about a. will, I think.” It is plain that .llridget has been applying her best ear to the keyhole iof the study with great. effect. I Hilary’s face grows disturbed. She gturns round and beckons somewhat :haughtily to Ker. Her face is very white. “It appears that there is a man here, a, laWycr, acquainted with myâ€" our”â€"reluctantlyâ€""aunt’s will, and he wishes to see you as well as me.” “But how ?” begins Ker. She disdains reply, however, and leads him to Jim’s study. ’ * * *. ‘l' I! * The interview is at an end. "The ould man” has gone back to .Lonâ€" don. He has brought strange'news, yhowcverâ€"strange enough to induce him, the second partner in the great firm, to come all the way to Ire- land‘to explain it. A second will ‘has been discovered, written by the lold aunt, that entirely upsets the ifirst terrible one. that would have [destroyed or made. the. lives of two {young people. This latter will is lquiie clear. 01' the £18,000 n year, left by the old aunt, one half is to igo to Hilary, the other half to Frederic Ker. There are no restricâ€" tions whatsoever. Jim and Diana have. gone to speed the old lawyer on his journey. They had begged him to spend a. month, a night, a, week, a day even, with lthem, so thankful were. they for his. intelligence, but all to no effect. Sadly they follow him to the door, sorry in that they can Show no .gratitude beyond words to the man who has delivered poor dear Hilary from her hateful dilemma. 'And she has been so good all through, poor darling, so anxious to do what was right (only because they had asked lthat she had rebelled. She haul found the task too hard for her. zNow the task is at an end. Won’t ish’e be delighted! Meantime they have left the study, â€"an:i Hilary and Ker face to face. A deadly silence ,reigns within this room. Ker is Hooking out of Hilary is trifling with a book or two on the table. She has told herself lshe ought to go, but stillâ€"one or ltwo words must be spoken. On‘e lshould bid even the worst people adieu when one ,has spent an hour or so with them. One should never be rude. "What a fortunate turn things have taken,” says she, moving the books about a little indiscriminate- ly. "\7ex‘y.’ He comes back from the window, land faces her from the other side of the table. “Yes. We are 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 xcareful dignity. "Because, once havâ€" 7 ing. decided" that: a: marriage between» madness, I felt. that 'us Would be perhaps I was doing you an injus- tice.” v ' » ' M ’-: -’ " “It is too good of; you to trouble yourself so much about me;”' " perhaps, I should not..hnve thought so muchâ€"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.” Ie’s from London I .her), it was but an hour ago indeed l ensues, quiet' the window, and '- “I Was troubled mys‘elf, ' too; TOP.» you 'what you "I (lid no! accuse you of that. I," indignantly, "only accused you of being willing to marry me without loving me,” “And what. did that mean?" HG 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 arranged 19'." movements, are the one who must know most about them.”' “'1?” she looks up. your movements?” “Yes, you!” He goes up to her and looks her deliberately in the fare. “Will you tell me you are not sending me back to India?” “What are you saying?” says she, with an attempt at hauteur that fails her. To her horror she knows that she is trembling. " Who am I, that I should arrange your move- merits?” “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- fuse!” "There was me.” .“You, but not your love.” “Both! Both! I swoar it. I swear with a clear conâ€" science, when there is nothing to prevent your believing it. I love you. There is no girl on earth like you, I think. I love youâ€"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. Dear and blessed tears. They tell him all things. Suddenly she feels herself caught in his arms. Her check is pressed to his. His love, on fire by reaspn 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, (lashing straight to the gozfl of its desires. Hilary, in the midst of this whirl, loses herself a little. Instinctively she. clings to him. From the very lfirst she had felt a certain sympathy lIwith Ker. Now she knows she loves 1m. * 'I' * l ‘I * “Now 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 eyes it is not all right yet.” “Well, I’ll tell you the truth, Fred. 1,” blushing hotly, "didn’t like to think you had found Mrs. Dyson- Moore more attractive than me.” “Mrs. Dysonâ€"Moore! Heavens and earth! a thousand Mrs. Dyson- IM'oores wouldn’t have kept me from Iyou. Why, I wasn’t within a mile of her all day." “Not,” faltering, “with her? Then whereâ€"-â€"?” i “I was in Cork, and that beastly train was of course slow. 'Andâ€"” "Oh, Fred!” she springs to her feet. “Oh, what must you think of me?" “I needn’t tell you,” laughing, “you know. I went up to Cork to get you thisâ€"” He puts his hand ‘in his pocket. “Why?â€"Where? Oh, 'here it is!” He pulls out a little case, opens it, and taking her hand, slips an exquisâ€" ite diamond ring upon her engaged iflnger. Hilary looks at him, and then, impulsively going nearer to him, 1lifts her head and kisses him. I "I oughtn’t to take it. I oughtn’t really,” says she dejectedly. “I’m not worthy of it. All the time you were thinking of me, Iâ€"â€"â€"” “You were thinking of me, too.” "Yes, but. how?” “Never mind, you were thinking of me. That’s the great point.” , “I certainly was doing thatâ€"with ia vengeance! What a lovely, darling ring! Do you know, Fred, I never had a ring in all my life. before.” “I’m glad of that,” says Ker in a, low tone. “I’m glad my first gift to you has not been forestallec.” "Your first!” she pauses, and quite 'Ia. distressed change grows on her 'face. , “Oh, not your first! Fredâ€"my florin! That was your first! Oh! how could you th’f‘ow it away like that 7 Do you think we shall be able to find it again?” "If not,” laughing, you another.” (“011, 110. That or no other. I’m sure I know the spot where it fell, I ” ‘She stops short, and colors violently. “You what?” He takes her hands and presses his lips to her palms. Perhaps he knows what is coming. “I watched where it fell: I meant to go back and pick it up." says she bravely, but blushing until the tears come into her eyes.‘ . - y . ‘ "What? Even _when you thought, I ~wns going away’forever')” ‘_-.a4‘v‘es?’_[ .. I I - "Not n bit:‘of it,’,’ says Ker, clos- ing his arms round her. ‘ "I’ll .tell thoughtâ€"What you“ lkncwâ€"that. nothing. on earth would induce Inc to go away, so long as a shred of chance remained to me that you would still rclcnt and marry me!” "I (Han know that. No indeed. T n “I V to arrange “1 can give v WW‘.WQ' _ lfelt sure you didn't care~that you [would go!” I "Well, you know now?" I “Yes. and I wonder at it," say“ ishe. still in an extremely chased Iframe of mind, “considering how ibad I have been to you all along." “I am a. wronged man; I acknowâ€" ledge that," says Ker. "As there [Was to be an altel‘atimrin the will, I] wish all the money had been left to me." “How greedy of you!” “Not at all. Creediness has noth- ling to do with it. But such a will would have enabled me to prove to you the truth of some words I said to you toâ€"day. Do you remember ithem? You asked me if I would 'marry you if you had not a penny in the world, and when I said ‘ch,’ you wouldn’t believe me.” "How could I?” reproachfully. “But I said it.” "Yesâ€"but in a tone.” “I meant it, however,” says he earnestly. “Though I can’t it. You have stillâ€"a penny!” "No. No. Only a half-penny now,” says she. with a delightful lit- tle glance. “And you have the other half. It is like the old broken Sixpence! “Why,” laughing, though a little shyly, “we. must be lovers.” "For life!" says he, in a low tone. He draws her to him. (To be Continued.) .____+__ __ IN AN AFRICAN PARADISE. Scenes on the New Ugandaâ€"Rail- ways to Lake Victoria. The Uganda railway promises a new field to' the tourist. The secre- tary of the Uganda Protectorate, now in England, gives a tempting description of the 1rip. The scenery is unique, and there is about fifty miles of zoological gar- (lens teeming with wild animals. On my way down country at the Kapiti Plains we passed through a herd of fully 50,000 zebras; we saw 20 os- triches, seine rhinocerose-s and gir- afl'cs in the distance and the plains simply swarmed with gazelles. The zebras, whose stripes shone in the bright sun, were massed on the railâ€"_ way line, and merely divided to let' the train pass, a few scampering away for a. hundred yards or so. Nowhere else in the world can such a sight be witnessed. And then to many people the naâ€" tives are still more interesting than the wild animals or the. scenery. Here in London you. have the tux-n- tieth century, but in Kavirondo it is only the day after Creation, with the difference that the Adam and Eves of Kaviron-do have not yet dis~ covered that‘nthey are, naked. and in- stead of rcposing in beatific leisure among apple trees, Adam and Eve may be seen hoeing gardens along the railway or carrying baskets of grain to the market at Port Florence the majority of them without an atom of clothing. But there is noth- ing to affect the susceptibilities of the European visitor. It is nature. You might as well object to a. syca- more tree going without leaves in winter as object to a Kavirondo man or woman going naked. At the railâ€" way stations, alas! they are gradualâ€" ly getting Adam into trousers; but as a rule Eve still moves in her na- tive charms, wearing at most a tasâ€" sel suspended from a girdle. The cruise around Lake Victoria. occupies about a'week, the steamer touching at all the German and Bri- tish stations. The scenery at Enfebâ€" be and Munyonyo (the Port of Kam- pala) is very fine, and as the. course, lies among the most beautiful parts of the Sose Archipelago, and the Buvuma group, there is an unending feast for the eye of pretty creeks, bold headlands, and banks of graceâ€" ful palms, fringing broad slopes of turf. As to the Ripon Falls, they defy description. I think it may safely be. said that the tour to Ugan- da outrivals in interest anything in be found elsewhere in the world. â€"â€"â€"â€"+ GOOI)‘ ADVICE. Do not learn the language of sor- row: Don’t try man’s rudder. to steer with another Don’t remember anything of yes- terday but its good. The time always comes when a. grafter gets grafted. Just take a bird’s-eye view of the world. It looks better that way. lie. clean and the spirit of the eterâ€" nal. truth will rest and abide with thee. There is no toâ€"morrow, and it is only a very foolish fool who worries about that which will never come. Thereis no person or thing in this world that gets something for nothâ€" ing. Look and you will find the cost mark. Feeding a girl chocolate creams once a week and feeding her breakâ€" fast three times a day are two differ- ent things. When you say an unkind word or even think an unkind thought, just remember that you are hurting no one but yourself. There are a great many people who look. at. the stomachs, and their view in accord» ing to the condition of that organ. .. ~ The ~ only:.diff_erencc -.betl’clmv.a :.|riol~'â€" man and ‘thohot-hm' man is that the llormpn does what. he thinks and the other man thinks (that he'll like to ’ do. Soâ€"callod friendship that is purâ€" chased and held by favors does the possessor no good. There is always Barbecue who can lurnluh mom faw- own that: you. prove ' world. through their_