The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

‘qu ecuâ€"fl gu rc r 1, d} .. _ ' _____.. J . O O O O O O O O O . 59.0%...86$v.1‘o.oso.o‘o.o%o.e$o.¢-o.¢~50 wzo g ‘ ... ‘20 . 9 ,0 " .;. 05. . g '0: A Drama of Present~Day g, '3' Russia. 3. ,0. J A o O o O O 9 6' o 6 ‘ Qc.o‘o..§4.¢‘o¢o%o.o$6.0‘0.¢1>o.0‘9.0‘¢.o®0:& Doom! The blaze of roseâ€"light, the faint wail of violins beyond the buzz of talk, the kaleidoscope of jewols and decorationsâ€"all seemed to fade but suddenly, and leave a nebulous blank through which floated one re- gal figure with a. sweet, oval face and eyes like pools in twilight. Thrice Desmond Charteris had cross- ed Europe :spatches; toâ€"night, within five confidential de- nunâ€" utes of his entering the crowded reâ€" ception saloon at the Consulate, he found himself drawn up in the grip of a magnetic thrill. She was here, of a host of beautiful moths fluttering around the ambas- sadorial light! Warsaw! Just fortyâ€"eight hours .back, in smiling defiance of all warnings, he had crossed one of the bridges and strode alone into the banned areas to realize for himself that the great city was a bubbling with volcano of disaffection threatening national upheaval. With typical British coolness and selfâ€"confidence, scanned suspiciously by fugitive faces, he had gone on and on, past barricaded doorways and deserted factories, telling himself that the peril was still mainly mythical. Then, of a sudden, his nerves tinglcd like redâ€"hot wires. A turn, and he was face to face with the stark reâ€" nlity~with shuddering tragedy. A sullen mass of figures heaving forâ€" Ward in the dusk, a shadowy horde of Cossacks draWn up in the gloomy square opposite, and an open carri- age tearing along between. He could see the white, calm, sweet face and resolute lips of the woman in it; her eyes met his at the instant when, as the desperate crowd made its rush, the horses reared high and flasher; sheer for the bridge parapet. I'le leapedâ€"almost unconsciouslyâ€"sprang- and hung on. He knew nothing more till the wonderful eyes looked low into his and a voice trembled, “I owe you my life!" Then the veâ€" hicle had dashed on. There Were the thud of hoofs, the swish of cur- ling thongs, the screams and moans 0} hate, culminating in a chaos of horror that was to live in his mem- ory. He had striven to forget all bu“. the woman's faceâ€"and, forty- eight hours later, he had found it here. ‘ ‘ Careful ! 'v, someone breathed laughineg at his elbow. “We Wear masks at these. mixed receptions; we tacitly assume that all is tranquil below and above the surface. It pays just nowâ€"in Russia!” and Charters gripped the disappearing arm of. an attache. "One word! Who is she? I daren’t pointâ€"the one in ivory silk!” "Precisely. The whole room guessâ€" ed it. Surely you know? It’s Stephanie Kranovitch. Now look away! Staring straight back at you is Kranovitch, the man never seen publicly in daylightâ€"knOWn to a. few as the man who sits daily with his hand upon a lever at the Secret Police; Bureau. He is ubiâ€" quitous, uncanny; love for the daughter seems his one human touch. You understand! Then take my advice; approach the man first. There’s your only chanceâ€"if such a thing exists!” It was not necessary. To within a few feet of the man he had Workâ€" ed his way, when his heart took a rare leap. A rustle of cloudlike silks, a scent of violets, a low voice vibrating with Wonder and gratiâ€" tude, and he realized that. Stephanie herself had caught his hand tightly. Her sweet eyes filmed with recollcc- tion. His name had been uttered. He knew that he was the centre of attraction, as she turned to Krauo- vitch with that muffled little sob of impulse. , “'And this is the gentleman who-â€" who offered his life to save mine!" Kranovitch bowed with that cold smile that leaked like. winter moon- light passing over white marble. The very pressure of his lingers seemed as significant as his slow, bland rc- ply. "I knew it. I take this opportun- ity to say that we oxve Mr. Des- mond Charters a. debt which he can never expect us to repay!” All over! For a. moment Steph- anie stood between as pale and still as if struggllng against her woâ€" man's inner self, but Kranovitch re- mained like a figure of stone. It was eloquentâ€"deadly; and it brought Charters a defiant coolness. Turnâ€" ing his back, he offered his arm as with an unquestionable right. Her lips quivering, Stephanie hesitated; then, as that wail of violins floated across at the psychic moment, - she smiled and dared it. He had whirl- ed her challengingly away under the very eyes of the man who, it was said, had all the umnensured secret power of Russian oflicialdoni behind him. At last came the moment when, ignoring Kranovitch's figure on the steps, he drew her furs closer at the carriage door. ” lood nightâ€"not good-bye!” he whispered, imploringly. “Promise!” She sank back, as in mute fear. The pale, queenly face was turned. He had to bond thrillineg close to feel cheek. tlre faint breath upon his "You heard! My debt isâ€"â€"~is a deeper one than I may ever repay!" The horses sprang forward. - As he walked away, spite of that brain- whirl, he knew that a. man was fol- lowing him to the door of his hotel. It was Russiaâ€"above all, it was Warsaw; and love and justice lowed tortuous paths here. He cared nothing. He had met the one woman for whose love he risk his life a thousand times over. “Who placed this here?” It was a sealed, unstamped enveâ€" lope lying beside his breakfast plate that next morning. The Walter stared; he was positive that no one had entered the room. With intui- tive suspicion Charters turned away and broke the seal. “Eleven o’clock this forenoon will find me at the above address, to hear Mr. Chartcris’s explanation and proposals. Safe conduct, if invis- ible, is guaranteed.” ' There was no signature, but Charâ€" teris had closed his teeth on a word at onceâ€"Kranovitch! A delicate warning, or merely a guarded inviâ€" tation? Impossible to decide. He would go! He breakfasted, dressed, pocketed a revolver, and set out. He had expected a walk of a few hunâ€" dred yards, and a possible glimpse of the woman he had set himself to win. A gloom, an atmosphere of imâ€" pending evil, hung over the streets. Tragedy’s OWn wan face seemed to stare out from some of the splinterâ€" ed windows; military pickets, knots of brooding men, seemed everywhere. He walked resolutely on, till sud- denly a hand beckoned to him from an upper window in a silent street. Passing up a stair, he found himself staring into a wide, bare room, inâ€" haling the scent of rankest tobacco. The man who sat smoking there was bfloused like a common workman. But it was Kranovitchâ€"Stephanie’s faâ€" ther, with the cold, slow smile. “Appearances are nothing here, as you know,” he said, in easy English. “This being a useful temporary of- fice, Iâ€"erâ€"I adapt mysflf to the surroundings when I come here alone. Moreover, I scarcely expectâ€" cd you. Be seated!” He leaned back, his teeth bared in that inâ€" scrutable smile. “Two men such as ourselves need not fence for an openâ€" ing. May I take it that the fascin- ation so marked last evening is likely to develop? In a. vord, you consider that' Fate put my daughâ€" ter's life. into your hands with a subtle purpose?” “I do." Charteris looked and am swcred steadily, heavily as his heart was beating, strange as it all seemed. “Call it what you will; stand between us if you think fit; but you ask for the truth. I shall tell her that I love her before I leave Warsaw.” ' “H'm!” He closed his eyes. "You are Britishâ€"yes. You arrived here with private 'despatches. You have delivered them. You are free to re- mainhere or return home as you chooseâ€"and as Russia chooses. And, for that matter, you are free to think of a wife. But what if such a. hope were to cost you £10,000 bch forehand? What if something much deeper still were required of you?” A pregnant pause. The slow voice seemed to filter through from a dis- tan- 4. “If you agree, after what I have said, you may make a surprise visit to my private box at the theatre this evening. If not, you would be vell advised to leave your hopes beâ€" hind you here." Then, of a sudden, his hand gripped as in compact. . “Here is my private card and box number. My daughter need know noâ€" thing of this; you saved her life! We do not"â€"â€"again that strange smile -â€"-"we do not find it advisable to trust even the woman we love at a time such. as this, Mr. Charteris. Ileâ€" member, silence covers all risks!" As Oharteris went back along .ihe streets he seemed to be walking in a mist. For once his clear brain failâ€" ed him utterly. His one deep con- viction was that in some way he was playing into the hands of a man who has suddenly discovered that his love for Stephanie might be used as a valuable lever. He could only wait for the. moment when those glorious starlike eyes should meet his OWn once again. It came at last. The theatre was darkened, wrapped in a hush, when Kranovitch beckoned along the cor- ridor and held the boxâ€"door ajar. Could it be true? Stephanie sat there alone, her pure, unconscious profile just catching the glow from the stagh. Thenâ€"then she had turn- ed, with a faint little cry, and her hand was trembling in his. Of that night’s play Charteris saw nothing. He knew only that he saw back in was silent, indissolublc WWWâ€"*qnâ€" the shadow in a thrill of strange happiness, and that liranovitch's summons from the box “on official business” was a blind designed to draw him further into some net. A dreamlike week passed. Day by day he was aware that Kranovitch watched narrowly to make sure that he had gone too far to retreat. Then a hint was dropped, and at last, like a. bursting bomb, the daily truth crashed into 'Desmonh Charteris’s brain. He was fast held’ in the tentacles ever feeling their slow way up from the pit of Russian darkness. To win Stephanie he must pav an appalling price. Did he attempt !o avoid it by stealthâ€"to dream of escape from lussin with his future. brideâ€"he was ensuring certain, ,scau’ct deuth. fol-* would . Kranovitch, the man in an inner room at the Secret Police Bureauâ€"- the man vested with unlimited pow~ er for crushing under heel and hoof any rising of the submerged toilers â€"was playing tw0 parts as no stage tragedian ever yet played them. Os- tensibly a chief of secret police, the father of Stephanie was leagued with one of the most desperate, deterâ€" mined factious preparing their mines in complete. darkness. “And you are the man possessing the money that they require immedi- ately at all costsâ€"and that you are prepared to pay!” he said. Charteris sat. by lightning. That impulse to deal a decisive blow at the calm, watchâ€" ing face had been overwhelmed by the nameless fear that it might cost him the woman he loved. Dusk had just fallen; they were sitting over cigars on a terrace at the rear of Kranovitch’s house, and he could make out along the garden paths below. very day before, to Kranovitch’s request, he had conâ€" verted into roublc notes a cheque for £10,000 on the Credit Bank. They were in his pocketâ€"book now. The scynd of a dull, distant explos- ion came through the. still air as he rose, his finer instincts surging to the surface. “You mean, you thought to buy me with. your daughter's heart,” he said, his handsome face set and con- temptuous. instead. I’ve learned the truth that love leaves a man blind. I know noâ€" thing of your secret societies here, although they may claim every true man’s symapthy toâ€"day; but I do know that you are a despicable type of traitor. I have promised silence, and I shall keep it. But I do not give up my hope of Stephanie, nor yet a farthiug of this money unless I know its precise destination!” "So!" Kranovitch bowed. The slow, peculiar smile, like moonlight over marble, flitted over his maskâ€" like face. “I had half expected this; yet I had hoped that you Would meet the secret committee with me, to give them your essential guaran- tee. Very good; here ends the matâ€" ter." He rose, calm and courteous. “I will see you to the square myâ€" self, and there We can say good- bye!" Stupefled, but instinctively silent, Charteris followed him. A cab was moving along through the dusk. Kranovitch hailed it. “You may need it. There is danger toâ€"night in every square of Warsaw, I am told,” he said, grim- ly. Chartcris stepped mechanically in. And thenâ€"he struck out, as someâ€" thing damp and pungent seemed to be flung over his face. In vain. He fell back, his senses slipping away fast. When that nauseous lethargy lift- ed, the silence of sheer horror claimâ€" ed him. He was being led into a wide, bare room, lit only by a lamp that stood upon the floor. There were piles of shadowy kegs in a corâ€" ner, and the picture of two bareâ€" armed workmen grinding something: in a mortarâ€"mill burned itself into his memory. He know! He was here in the haunt of Kranovitch's secret accomplices; treachery had beaten him, White, haggard faces with burning eyes stared at him out of the gloom; all around was the buzz of muttering in Russ. And those menâ€"~those men Were feverish- ly at work preparing the deadly ma- terial for the bursting, shattering terror that was haunting life in Warsaw. And now, that sudden hush, and Kranovitch's slow, delib- erate voice, without a tremor. He could just follow its import. “Have I kept my word? You doubted my fidelity; you had resolv- ed to keep me from your confidences; you wanted some solid proof that I am heart and soul in the cause. Be- hold it! You see here with your eyes the man I named, the man who voluntarily finds this munificeut sum for our purposes,.an-d who has prom- ised silence. He is here!" A pause. A muffled movement like that of a. cage full of breathing, shuffling animals. He was being led forward. “Read the scroll, and Sign it!” came a hollow .voice. “That alone will be the proof; for! it leaves your name and standing, written by your own hand, upon our book of membershipâ€"it leaves the eternalâ€""prison doors open for the man whose name is there, should he fall victim to the fate that we all risk!" “Obey! anic!" He For your lifeâ€"and Steph- kne'. that that tense like a man stunned! the dear figure moving! That i yielding recklessly I “I might have guessed;‘ whisper had been shot from the lips of Kranovitch. He knew that the men at work had ceased their grind and whirr to Watch him. Vith the instinct if lself-preservation alone his fingers had closed upon a pen held out. He was caught in the tentacles of this gigantic octopus of peril that had slumbcred for centuries. Death stared at him dowu the avenue of each alternative. And Stephanie’s white, iinploriug face in that mist. . . . What was that? A gurgle, a thud- ding sound, in the silence. He looked up. The bloused figures had swayed iup on every hand, rigid in the spell 'of suspense. Thenâ€"a shout, a leapâ€" ing up the staircase, a flood of light let. looSc on ghastly faces from elecâ€" ltric bulbs. Charteris felt himself {plucked back through a doorway and lheld still by an iron hand. Up into ithe night went a din of oaths, pray- 'ers, screams of agony, banging :doors. Steel clashed, revolvers spurth flashes of death, men rocked Iin the loo" struggle. The horror of lit all was deadcncd by a thunder of ihool‘s and the shrieks of a crowd [that flew before it. No need of the [Cossacks’ whips to-night; they flew {at higher game. They reinedâ€"up Earound the building. The coup was icomplete. Within that cordon of police and military remained all lthat was left of the devoted band, with their propaganda, their bombâ€" plant, and their dead hopes of a blow at misplaced powor. ' And Kranovitch? Dead or prison- er? Stephanie alone in the world? The house. was silent, the drama 'iplayed. Charteris stood there in [that paralysis that denied thought, sick with. nameless horror. And sudâ€" denly the. door opened; Kranovitch stood there, calm, smilingâ€"like a Napoleon who had just won the batâ€" tle of his: career. “Thanks! The vermin have been icleared out of the deepest hole yet 'built. You refuse my hand? Just so! You think me a. traitor, whereâ€" as I was one merely for purposes of State.” He laughed, lit a cigar, looked from the window. “All quiet! (me more bubble located and plugged. It might have been other- wise, I grant! My life hung by a hair. Clever men! They suspected me. To blind them, to assemble them here for my coup, I introduced. you and your money. There was no other way. And I dared not take [you into State confidence. You are English; you don’t understand our methods; you would have ruined the thing. No matter; you see that I ,am no traitor. I have served my Czar the highest and most danger- ous service in becoming a rwolutionâ€" ary. There is only one thing!” he [broke off, thoughtfully. ! “And that?" Chartcris asked it in la husky steady whisper. His arms were folded; he had faced a finality. “Your safety. By now, in revenge ‘they will have named you as a conâ€" federate, and adduce proof of the money drawn. To save you inconâ€" venience, a train waits which will icarry you from Warsaw. Here is [your passport. Below, in a. carri- lage, is all your luggage from the ,hotel. Your bill is paid; you have {your Iii-10,000, your way is clear, {and your friends at the Consulate {need never know of your indiscre- tion. You have helped Russia, and Russia is grateful!" “Andâ€"and Stephanie?" he asked, [looking full into the fathomless eyes that could not flinch. “Ah!” He stepped close to whis- lper. “T hat is another matter. Ste- [phanie is far out of harm. The mo- ‘ment you left my house lic-night she was taken away by my instruc- tions.' You see? Had I failed, had I been unmasked, my house would have been wrecked within the hour. Her life was in the balances. And [she knows nothing of the undercur- rents! You see? I serve Russia, not mySolf. You love herâ€"yes! And :your love is returned? You believe lso. Then"â€"he telpid vile still fig- iure before himâ€"“you shall come back here in three years" time, when RuSsia. and her 130 -;le are at peace, Iand you shall claim your wifeâ€"you ishall be paid your debt!" He was gone. The hain that inight that flew almg inward the {border carried one passenger whose heart was left behind in Warsaw; a iman silent under a weight of the deepest agony the mind .an knowâ€" ia man who waits fir time to give back to him the '.(-vt-. he had won and lost.â€"-London Tit-Bits. _.+.._.__.. Advice should be well shaken be- fore being taken. "A RUN "6m _ Tun nA Nl ." ‘- ....-mrmumâ€"ammnmnmmmzrmâ€"- L r. “m. C wwmw Mum-m MAKING A LEAD PENCiL THE PROCESSES WHICH IT GOES THROUGH. How Various Degrees of Hardness Are Obtainedâ€"Automatic Machinery. The lead pencil, as its name would seem to imply, is not made of lead, but of graphite. Criginiually it was made of metallic lend encased in woodâ€"hence its name. But it was not until after the discovery of the famous Cumberland graphite mines in England, 1565, that graphite sup. planted metallic lead in the pencil. For two centuries the lead pencil industry was confined to England; but in 1761, when Casper Faber, of the village of Stein, near Nuremberg, Bavaria, began in his village a small pencil plant, the industry gradually shifted into Germany, where it pros- pered to such an extent as to be- come a world‘s centre. The graphite, which is the essential part of the pencil, comes chiefly from Ceylon, Eastern Sibe‘ia, Bohemia and Mexico. 'l‘l'ie ore is often found in quantity in other localities, but it is so mixed with oxides of iron, silicates and other impurities as to render it unfit for the manufacture of pencils. As it is the best graphite mined, it. has to be treated by hand to free it from such impurities which are nearly always found in certain quantities. In cheaply made pencils these fereign elements are readily detected by the greasy or scratchy run of the pencil on paper. PREPARING 'l‘f-lI'l LEAD. 'After the graphite has been broken in small bits and separated as nearly as possible from its impurities by hand, it is pulverized and then plac- ed in tubs of water, allowing the im- purities to precipitate whi'.e the graphite floats upon the surface. A centrifugal device is often used,‘ by which the graphite is separated by dry process, but this is not reliable, and is little used in the making of good pencilsnfter the water pro- cess, the graphite is filtered through filter presses, when it is ready to be treated to the clay process. This process, which was discm ered in 1820 by ‘M. Conic, a French chen‘iist, permits the manufacturer to produce pencils of different grades and adapt- ed to many uses. As the graphite from the filter process would be too soft for ordinary uses, the 'spccial clay introduced into it, having been treated to a similar process as the graphite, gives it the degree of hard- ness desired. The more L .-2y in the graphite the harder the lead beâ€" comes. INSERTED IN W001). While the clayâ€"graphite mixture is still in its plastic condition it is shaped into loaves and fed to hy- draulic presses, which gives them a desired form. The highâ€"grade pen- cilsâ€"those of the greatest wearing qualitiesâ€"freceive a higher degree of pressure. These hydraulic presses are each provided ‘with a sapphire or’ emerald die, corresponding to the cal- iber of the lead desired. The grap- hite is forced through the die and leaves it in one. continuous string, which is cut into lengths suitable for pencils, usually about seven inches. The graphite is then ready for use. After the cedar slats are kiln dried or treated by steam processes to ex- pel all moisture, they are passed through automatic grooving ma.â€" ’chines, each slat receiving six semiâ€" circular groovcs into which leads are placed, brushed with glue and fitted to its mate. A skillful girl is able, by one swift movement of her fingers to sweep 15 or 20 leads into their sockets. ‘A bunch of these leaded, mated slats is thrust into a hydrau- lic press when all superflous glue is Squeezed out and the bundles are locked and allowed to dry. The glued slats containing the leads are then run through moulding machines which turn out the pencils in round hexagon or flat shapes as desired. Preliminary to the Varnishâ€"coloring process the pencils are run through sanding machines. _ COLORING AND POLISHING. Both the saudâ€"paperihg and color- ing process are automatic, the pen- cils being fed in Quantities in hop- pers. In the latter case they are carried one at a time through small coloring vats and discharged through an aperture of the caliber of the penâ€" cil and deposited in a slowly moving drying belt which carries them a sufficient distance, about 20 feet, to allow them to dry. They are then gathered from the receptacle into which they are deposited and the process is repeatedâ€"often ten or more times, according to the quality of finish desired. Odd shaped pen- cils such as hexagons, etc., are colored by the old process, by being suspended by their ends from frames and immersed in coloring vats, then slowly withdrawn by machine. This gives a smooth enamel finish. The finest grade. pencils are pol- ished by hand, and it takes a work- man several months at best to learn to do this work skilfully. Other highgrade pencils are given the steel polish, but. these, while they show a fine finish, lack the warmth and rich effect. of the handâ€"polished pencil. .â€".â€"â€".â€"â€"~¢ .â€"__.....â€"_~ “I must compliment you on the reuarkable lightness of your bread," said the woman customer. “Thank you,” rejoined the baker. “It is my aim to turn out the lightest bread in the city." “Yes,” coulinu- ed the woman customer, "and if you get it much lighter it will take fire of your pound loaves to v'cigr sixteen ounces." 21:; 4 1 “at”: .6.) a.:-u;...‘- ,-....”_..'. ' :3; .1.’ a ,3 K ; imam mafia-w W. = v ice“ A M ‘A: ‘u'an