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CHAP’IZER XXXVI.â€"â€"(Continued) “Then let me prophesy, and 'deâ€" Clare that he will be in gaol again. -.Why bring him here?" "Because it is absolutely neces- sary,” Chris said, boldly. “That man can help Incâ€"help us, Lord Littimer‘. I am not altogether what I seem. There is a scounidrel in your house compared with whom James Merritt is an innocent 'child. That scoun/drel has blighted your life and the lives of your family; he has blighted my life for years. And I am here to expose him, and I am here to right the wrong and bring back the lost happiness of us all. I cannot say more, but I implore you to let me have my own way in this matter." “()h!” Littimer you are masquerading here?" “I am. I admit it. Turn me out if you like; refuse to be a party to my scheme. of me now, probably you will thinki But 1 S“'0m'lcas11alâ€"lil(o as worse of me latcr'on. to you that I am acting with the best and purest motives, and in your interest as much as my own."~ "Then you are not entitled to the name you bear?" “‘No, I admit it freely. Consider, if need not have told you anything. Things cannot be any worse than they are. Let me try and make them better. Will you, will youI trust me?" _ Chris’s voice quivered, there wore tears in her eyes. With a sudden impulse Littimer laid his hands . upon her shoulders and looked long? and searching-1y into her eyes. "Very well,” he said, ’with a gcnw tle sigh. “I will 'trust you. As a matter of fact, I have felt that I could trust you from the first. LIl Won’t pry into your schemes, be-[ cause if they are successful I shalli benefit by them. ¢ And if you likei to bring a cavrtload of convicts down! here, pray do so. It will only puzâ€"{ 7.10 the neighbors and drive them] mad with curiosity, and I love that. “And you’ll back me‘ up in all I say and do?" Chris asked. “Certainly I will. 0n the whole. I fancy I am going to have a pleas- ant evening. I don’t think dear Reginald will be pleased to see his. friend at dinner. If any of tho' spoons are missing I shall hold you responsible." ' Chris went ofl‘ to her room well pleased with the turn of events. Brilliant audacity had succeeded where timid policy might have reâ€" sulted in dismal failure. And Littl- mer had refrained from asking any awkward questions. From the win- dow she could see Bell and Merritt walking up and down the terrace, the latter talking. volubly and Worrying at a big cigar as a dog might nuzzle at a bone. Chris saw Littimer join the other two presentâ€" ly and fall in with their conversaâ€" tion. His laugh came to the girl's car more than once. It was quite evident that that eccentric noble- man was enjoying the exâ€"convict's, sociesy. But Littimer had never been fetfcred by conventional rules. The dogâ€"cart came up presently and Henson got out. He had an anxious, worried look; there was an ugly frown between his brows. He contrived to be polite as Chris emerged. He wanted to know where; Lit'timor was. “011 the terrace, 'I fancy,” Chris said, dmnurely. “I guess he is hav- ing a long chat with that parson friend of yoursâ€"the brand plucked from the burning, you know." “Merritt,” Henson said, hoarsely. “Do you mean to say that Merritt is here? And I’ve been looking for-â€" I mean, l have been i’to Moreton .Wclls. Why did he come?" ~' Chris opened her eyes in innocent surprise. “Why,” she said, “I fetched him. I'm deeply interested in brands of that kind." CHAPTER XXXVII. Henson forced a smile to his face and a hand from his side as he ap-3 proached Merritt and the rest. it was: not until the two found themn commune was} pagne was poor, thin stuff after all. i A jorum of gin and water or a mug S'Jf)_1lll(lâ€",0f bee,- selves alone that the mask dropped. “You infernally rcl,”- Henson said, between his teeth. “How dare you come You’ve done your work for the pre- sent, and the sooner you go back to your kennel in London the better. If I inmgined that you meant any harm I’d crush you altogether.” “I didn't come on my own," Mer- ritt whined. “So keep your ’air on. rl‘hut young lady came and fetched rueâ€"regular gone on me, she is. And there’s to be high jinks ’creâ€"a bazaar for the benefit of poor crim- inals as can’t get no work to -do- You ’eard what his lordship said. And I'm goin’ to make a speech like as I used to gull the chaplains. Lor' it’s funny, ain't it?" .lfonson failed to see the humor of the situation. He was uneasy and suspiCious. Moreover, he Was puzâ€" zled bv this American girl, and he hated to be puzzled. She had social aspirations, of course; she cared nothing for decayed or reformed insolent said, darkly, “so; You may think badly; even ' here? I 1.1.1.] criminals, and this silly bazaar was: only designed so that the ambitious girl could find her way into the county set. a husband, and nothing more would? be heard of Merritt and Co. Henson;found had a vague notion that all Amer-' English husbands of the titled or- der. “Littimer must be mad,” he mut- tered. "‘I can't understand Littl- mer; I can’t understand anything. Which reminds me that I have a crow to pluck with you. Why didn't you do as I told you last night?" “Got with “Did,” Merritt said, curtly. the picture and took it home me.” “You liar! rI‘he picture is in the corridor at.t_he present time.” "Liar yourself! I've got the pic- ture on my mantelshelf in my- sit- ting-room rolled up as you told me to roll it up and tied with a piece .of cotton. It was your own idea as the thing was to be left about being less calculated And there it is l lican girls are on the look-out for l to excite suspicion. at the present take my heath to it." Henson fairly gasped. He had been inside that said sitting-room not two hours before, and he had not ifailecl to. notice a roll of paper on I the Inantohshelf. And obviously iMerritt was telling the truth. And equally obviously the Rembrandt was hanging in the corridor at the present moment. Henson had solv- ed nn'd evolved many ingenious pnz~ 7.103 in his time, but this. one Awas utterly beyond him. ' “Some trick of Dr. llell’s, haps," Merritt suggested. _ , “ lell suspects nothing. life is abâ€" solutely friendly to me. He could not disguise his feelings li‘~'e that. Upon my word I was never so 111.4 terly at sea before in all my life. And as for Littimer, why, he has just made a fresh will more in my favor than the old one. But I'll fin-d out. I'll get to the bottom of this business if it costs me a forâ€" tunefl’ I-le frowned moodin at his boots; he turned the thing over in his mind until his brain was dazed and 'mudâ€" died. The Rembrandt had been stolen. and yet there was the Rom- brandt in its place. Was anything more amazing and puzzling? And nobody else seemed in the least troubled about it. Henson was more than puzzled; deep down in his heart he was frightened. “I must keep my eyes open,” he said. “I must watch night and day. Do you suppOSe Miss Leo notâ€" iced anything when she called to- day?" “Not a bit of it,” said Merritt, confidently. “She came to see me; she had no eyes for anybody but your humble servant. Where did she get my address from? Why, didn't you introduoe me to the lady yourself, and didn‘t I tell her I was staying at Moreton Wells for a. time? l’m goin’ to live in clover for a hit, my pippin. Cigars and champagne, wine and all the rest of it." “I Wish you were at the bottom of the sea before you came here,” Ifen~ son growled. “You mind and be careful what you’re doing with the chan'lpagne. They don‘t drink by the tumbler in the society you are in now, remember. Just one or two glasses and no more. If you take too much and let your tongue run you will find your stay here pretty short." Apparently the hint was not lost on Merritt, for dinner found him in a chastened mood. His natural ail-- dacity was depressed by the splen~ dour and luxury around him; the moral atmosphere held him down. There were so many knives and forks and glasses on the table, such a deal of food that was absolutely strange to him. The butler behind made him shiver. Hitherto in Mer- ritt’s investigations into great houses he had fought particularly shy of butlcrs and coachmon and upper servants of that kind. The butler's sniff and his cold suggestion as to hock slightly raised Merritt’s spirit. And the cham- perâ€" . was what Merritt’s soul 2 longed for. And waht a lot of plate there was gon the table and sideboard! of it was gold, too. Merritt’s greedy ,professional eye appraised the col- llcction at some hundreds of pounds â€"-l1un-drcds of poundsâ€"that is, after the stuff had been disposed of. In ‘imagination he had already 'drugâ€" iged the butler and was stuffing the . plate into his bag. Henson said very little. He was too busily engaged in watching his confederate.â€" l-le wished from the 1bottom of his heart now that Chris lhad never seen Merritt. She was smiling at him now and apparently hanging on every word. Henson had seen society ladies doing this kind of thing before with well-Concealed contempt. So long as people liked to play his game for him he had no objection. But this was quite difâ€" ferent. Merritt had warmed a lit- tle under the influence of his fifth in omen t, and I’ll! I I I | l ,glare in his Some" glass of champagne, but his eye 0000000 looked lovingly and longingly in the direction of a silver spirit-stand on the sideboard. The dinner came out to the terrace. Dell behind with Chris. ' “Now is your time,” he whisper- ed. “Henson dare not lose sight of Merritt before he goes to bed, and I’ll keep the latter out .here for a good long spell. I’ve m‘uffled striker of the telephone so that the bell will make no noise when you get yOur call back from Brighton, so that you must be near to the instrument to hear the c'lick of the striker. Make haste." Chris dropped back to the library Then She would choose I and rapidly fluttered over the leaves of the “Telephone” Directory." She what she wanted at length and asked to be put onto Brighton. Then she sat down in an armâ€"chair in the darkness close under the tel- ephone, prepared to wait patiently. She could just see the men on the terrace, could catch the dull red glow of their cigars. Her patience was not unduly tried. At the end of a quarter of an hour the striker clicked furiously. Chris reached for the receiver and lay back comfortably in her chair with the diaphragm to her ear. “Are you there?” she asked, quietly. “Is that you, Mr. Steel?” ' To her great relief the answering voice was Steel’s own. He seemed to be a little puzzled as to whom his questioner was. “Can you guess?" Chris replied. “This is not the first time I have had you called. You have not forâ€" gotth 218, Brunswick Square, yet?” - ’ Chris smiled as she heard Steel's sudden exclamation. “So you are my fair friend whom I saw in the dark?" he said. “Yes, I recognise your voice now. You are Miss Chrisâ€"well, I won’t mention the name aloud, because people might ask what a wellâ€"regulated corpse meant by rousing respectable people up at midnight. 1 hope you are not going to get me into trouble again." “No, but I am going 'to ask your advice and assistance. I want you to be so good as to give me the plot of a story after I have told you the details. And you are to scheme the thing out at once, please, be- cause delay is dangerous. Dr. 8011â€"” “What’s that? Will you tell me where you are speaking from?” “I am at present located at Littiâ€" iner Castle. .1125, Dr. Bell is here. Do you want him?" “I should think so,” claimed. “Please tell him at once that the man who was found here half deadâ€"you know the man I meanâ€"got up and dressed himself in the absence of thenurso and walked out of the hospital this morning. Since then he has not been seen or heard of. I have been looking up Bell everywhere. Will you tell him this at once? I’ll go into your matâ€" ter afterwards. Don't be afraid; I'll tell the telephone people not to cut us off till I ring. Please go at once.” ' The voice was urgent, not to say imperative. Chris dropped the re- ceiver into its space and crept into the darkness in the direction of the terrace. Steel exâ€" (To be Continued.) IN TIIE ILAC'K 1901111181}. The Black Forest of Germany, a region famous for centuries, is hun- dreds of years behind the present age in methods of living and conducting simple industries. This fact is strikingly exemplified in the primiâ€" tive ways the natives follow in mak- illeg leather and shoes. When a farm- or kills his beef he takes the hide to the local tanner, who will keep it for two years before he considers it fit for the shoemaker: When the hide is leather the shoemaker is in- formed of the fact. ’.l.‘hen some morning the shoemaker comes to the farmer's house with his kit of tools, and for the time being is one of the family. Every Katrina and every Johan-n is marched before him and measured, anld the Work of making shoes for the family begins. It may take a month. more or less, but he sticks to his job until every one is properly shod, when he is away to the next customer needing his serâ€" vices. ._____...+__I,.__. SURI’RISED TI-IIE BARBER. The barber had been so voluble and persistent that the baldâ€"headed little man upon whom he was operj ating had, in sheer desperation, purâ€" chased a bottle of his “Sprout Inâ€" :stantcr’ ’ hair produCer. days later the little man into the saloon with 0. eyes that caused the proprietor to pick up the machine brush as a weapon of defence, and to retreat precipit-altely to a position ’l‘wo bounced -of safety behind the counter. I}! "That ‘Sprout Instanter, comâ€" 'nrenced the little nran, in a tone that made all the rakors shiverâ€"â€" “But, sir, you ' must have patience," interrupted the. barber. “\Vlly it war onlv two days ‘agoâ€"" ;"I’atience!" broke in the irate one “(‘lrcat Togo! there ain't enough patience in the world to fit my casei ’l‘hat muddleâ€"headed.girl of curs has mistakim the hairâ€"prodin for fur- niture-polish E " "Ah, I see!" smiled the barber, “and you want another bottle?" “No I don't!" snapped the baldâ€" headed genflcnrnir. “I want to know how much you'll charge. to shave our new Llining~r00m suite?" to an end. at length, to Henson’s great relief, and presently the, whole party wandered dropped 000000000000 enough l . YOUNG FOLKS 8 MOLLIE'S 13UT’I‘I‘.RI“LIES.« How is my Mollie girl toâ€"day?” asked Aunt 'li'elen, as she came in (I. , .tho one sunny, windy winter day” Mollie was in the big rockingâ€" o'hair, made all comfortable with pillows and blankets. .She was [wearing the pretty pink k'lmono [that mama had made for her as soon as Mollie was able to sit up a little while each day. Now she could sit up for three hours every day, and once she had even walked across‘ the rooin. holding mama's hand, “just to see if she could." 'lhe doctor said she was doing finely, and told her to hurry up and get Well, so as to have rosy cheeks again to match the new kimono. “O aunty, I'm so glad to see you!” said the little girl, stroking the soft fur of aunty's muf. "You [seem so kind of fresh and outâ€" Idoorsy.” “Well, Mollie, I'm going to stay and be indoorsy a while," said au-nty. “Grandma told me to tell you that her biggest geranium is almost ready to blossom, and that she can see the color peeping out of the buds now. She is going to send them to you just as soon as they’re open, you know.” “I s’pose it is so nice and warm in grandma’s house the plants don't know it isn’t summer," said Mollie. “But when the flowers open they’ll be so s’prisod to see all tho-snow outside.” ' ’i‘hen Mollie and aunty began to ltalk about the summer, how lovely it was to all the green trees, and the daisies and buttercups in the grass, and to hear the birds singing. “And, 0, aunty, don‘t you rememâ€" ber the lots and lots of butterflies we used to 800 when we rode over to Cousin Eva's house? Wouldn’t it be nice if we could have some butterflies in tho honse in winter, same as grandma's flowers?" . “I'm afraid the winter butterflies woul'dn’ t be qpite happy,” said aun fy. “They would rat-her wait until the real outdoor summer comes, I’m sure." Aunt 'ffelen thought very hard for a minute: then she said, "But we might malto- sonne butterflies, even if 'l-hcy're not real onesâ€"and I think I. know how to make them fly just a ’lilitlo. ton ” Aunt ,Ffelcn got some pretty tissueâ€" paper, very thin, and of (lilTerent colorsâ€"red, white, yellow and light green. She cut out some guy butâ€" tcrflies. Then she took several piecâ€" es of Very fine sewing silk, and tied one to each butterfly Mollie was very much interested in the gay bits of paper, and tried to decide if the red lmtterflies or the yellow ones were the prettiest. “But I don't see how you are goâ€" ing to make them fly, aunty.“ Aunty went over to the big regis- ter. The heat was coming up Very fast, for if: was a cold day outside, and papa had to keep a hot fire in the furnace, so that Mollie‘s room might be warm and comfortable. Aunt Helen took the paper butter- flies and tied one end of each silk thread to the back of a chair. The butterflies all hung straight down. Aunty moved the chair very near to the register, and gave the butterflies a little toss into the middle of the 'hot air. Puff! Up they went, higher and high-er, carried by the warm, rising air. '.l“hey wavered about, now drop- ping a little, then going higher than ever, swaying about from side to side. lied and yellow and white and green, dancing up and down, they really seemed like a flock of gay butterflies hovering over a field of flowers. lMollie Was delighted. It was cerâ€" tainly a pretty sight. She watched them for a while. until she fell asleep. She dreamed that she was lying in a hanmnock under the trees, and that a flock of butterflies were living all about. and that they soon turned into some bright blossoms of sweet pens and red geraniums, and dropped into her lap. The next day when Aunt If-elen came. she brought. some more bits of tissueâ€"paperâ€"t‘his time they were pink and blue and lavender and crimson and white and purple. She cut out little petals of the colored paper, and with a few skil- ful touches made them: into pretty blossoms. Then she fastened the blossoan to long. green stems, made of tiny wire covered with a twisted lbit of green paper. Aunt Illelen put ‘a dozen of the pretty flowers into a slender glass vase, and set them. on the little table. ‘ “Willy, au-nty, they're just like the sweet peas I dreamed of! I can almost smell them.” said Molâ€" lie. Then aunty made more of the dainty flowers. this time with stems. She tied a silk thread to each one, and fastened the sweet a chair, as the butterflies fastened pens to had been O-OOdO-O brough t out 0-0 a begin a-business life in-the right Real religion never has to adver- zactly the day before. the butterflies again, and soon the butterflies and sweet peas were nodding and dancing to-- gather as if they were having lovely: summer fun. Mollie told Aunt .lIelen She always thought of the niast things to do, and it was not half so hard to be sick when she came. WHAT A nov SHOULD KNOW. A very successful man, in. speaking of what a. young man should know way, summarized the qualifications about as follows: He should be able to write a good, legible hand. To spell all the words that he knows how to use. - To write an ordrnurv receipt. To speak and write good English. To write a good social or business letter. . .’l‘o add a column of figures rapidly. To make out an ordinary account. To deduct 16!; per cent. from the face of the account. To receipt an account when it is paid. _ To write an advertismnent for the newspaper. To write an note. To reckon the interest or the dis» count on the note for- years. months or days. To draw up cheque. To flake it to the right place in the bank to get the money. To make neat and correct entries in day-book or cashâ€"book. To tell the number of yards of carpet required for the parlor. To tell something about the great authors, statesmen and finanâ€" ciers of the present time. If, says the ' successful business man a boy can do all this it is pro- l ordinary promissory an ordinary bank liable that he has enough education to make his way in the world. ¢____.... SENTENCE SERMQNS. Kindness is catching. One sin bears many seeds. A ledger makes a hard pillow. Red blood is always better blue vis10/n. None are so poor as those who do not love people. A poor man does not need to be a poor sort of a man. Living for one's land is greater far than dying for it. lie has made no great gains who has never lost anything. A man never gets much hold on heaven when he with just two fingers. More enemies, have been slain by mercy than by malice. Chance is one of the most profane words in our language. than tise for a chance. to do good. A man's title to glory does not depend on the glory of his title here. Men who are always on the make nevm‘ make much of anything. An open denial of God may be bettcrihan an enrpr definition of 'hnn. Small men do not gain great truths and great men do not retain them. The light of one life shines farther than logic. The rainbow of v love always looks black clouds of the brilliance of u. century’s best against the hate. When religion is a matter of busi- ness, business is'novcr a matter of religion. The church when it thinks wholly secular is not at all sacred that the street is {A SHE TAUG-I-I’l‘ The late Louis millionaire baker, of n v, only distributed food t. _or _men in the “bread line" he ~rad estab~ lis‘hed in that city, but he also got He went w harm, the "’} orlc, not these men employment. among them and eonvcrsed with them, and the delicacy of his q‘ues-j tions to them, the care he took not to hurt their feelings, was remark- able. Ono day he said: “"I‘hemore unfortunate and wretch- ed people are the more sensitive they areâ€"the more easily they are wound- ed. The public does not bear this fact enough in mind. "And yet it is a fact that is con- t-in'ually being prov-ndwsmnetimes paâ€" thetically, sometimes humorously. It was proved humorously to a friend of mine last summer in Scotland. “He was making a walking tour. He was climbing mountains o‘nsd viewing lakes and torrents. One 'morning on a (pilot road he met a lyo‘ung woman. tall and comely, who [walked barefoot. “Surprised, my friend stopped the young wonssan and said: ” ‘D-o all the people hereabouls go barefoot?‘ - “She answered: ‘Some of them do, and the rest mind their own busi~ ness ' " -â€"â€"â€"~-+â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€" NATURAL GAS IN ft‘.l\'(lLAND. While boring lor water at Calvert, a village ncar Aylcsbury, a feeder of natural gas was tapped, which is- no sued at a pressure of about 48 lbs. I per square inch. The precaution Was taken to reduce the size of the out- let pipe from 7 inches to inches, anzd lhcn,‘ in order to prevent the The chair was placed near the regis~ 'fumos spreading about the adjoining tor, and the sweet peas waved about and fluttered up and down like danc- ing blossoms. ’l‘licy wcrc a pretty sight, and Idolâ€" lie enjoven watching them. After a while she begged minty to “let the so aunty butterflies play, too,” works, the gas was ignited. So great was the velocity with which the gas rushed up the drill that the flames stood 15 inches above the surface pipe and rose several feet, in the air, presenting an extraordm-z ary spectacle. ’ grasps humanity '