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7 ary character. ' edics , enacted __â€"-â€"_.â€"â€"-â€"â€" ' - CHAPTER \‘I.â€"â€"(Continucd). “Good-bye,” she cried. Then she be- came lost to me. I told the cabman where to d-I‘iVC. and sat back in the vehicle, plunged in my own thoughts. I was like a man in a dream. Truly my night’s. experi- ences ihad been of a most extraordin- I had long heard and read of the many romances and trag- during the midnight hours in London, and new, by a more accident, I had obtained personal know- ledge of one, and had narrowly escapâ€" «er‘. losing my life. The mystery was most tantalizing. Feeling weak, I stop- ped at a public-house and. had some brandy. Indeed, I felt so unwell that. I sat in the bar-parlor fully half an hour before resuming my drive. Suddenly I rccollcctcd that I might gatlher something from the cabma'n; therefore, pushing open the little trap- door in the roof, I inquired where he had taken me up. ' . “In Albert Road, Battersea. sir.” This surprised me, for I had no idea that I had» been on the Surrey side of the river. I explained to the man my blindness. and asked him to describe the lady who had .put me into his cab. “\Vell, sir.” he said, “she was very pretty indeed, with grey eyes and dark- Ish hair.” “She was good-lookingâ€"ch?" “Yes. sir. I don't think I’ve ever seen .a much prettier young lady." I sighed. lIow tantalizing it was that my poor sightless eyes had been unable to gaze upon her. “Describe her more closely," I urged. “‘I'm anxious to know exactly what she's like." “She had lovely eyes, sir. Her hair seemed a bit untidy, but it was a pretty shade of dark brown. Her face seemed Innocent-lo-okh g, like a child's. I was surprised to see like that." “Like what?" “Half-drowned like. She had on a black skirt that seemed soaking wet through and covered with mud. She looked in an awful plight, and yet her face was merry and smiling. She took another cab as soon as she parted from you, and drove after us across the Albert Bridge, and then down Oakley Street. There she stopped the cab to speak to some one.” “Who was it?" I asked eagerly. “A woman. But I couldn’t see dis- tinctly. They were too fa‘ away, and turned down Cheyne Walk, so I didn’t see 'cm any more.” “You say that her clothes were very (III rt y?" “Yes, house than yours, and great Scott! sir, they’re bad enough. You’ll want. to send ‘om to the cleaners when youyget ’omc.” What. the man said was perfectly true. The sline of the river emitted a sickening stench, but it fortunately served to conceal one thing, namely, the blood-stains upon my coat. I laughed at this remark of his, but I had no intention to enter upon ex- planations. ‘ “From her appearance did my com- panion lead you to believe that. she was a lady ” ' “Oh yes, sir. There's no two opia- ions about that. She wasn‘t a shop- girl, or anything of that sort. By her manner you'd tell her as a lady among ten thousand." “’l‘hcrc was nothingr noticeable about her whereby I might recognize her again? Try and recollect." “No. sir," answered the man's voice «through the roof of tlze cab. “She was .a very beautiful young lady, and that‘s :all I mticed.” “You‘d know her again if you saw her?" “I should just say I would." laughed tlu‘. man. “\Vln‘in a chap Sees 'a we- man as lovely as 'she is it. ain't. likely hc'll forget her. even though he may have a wife and 'arf a dozen kids at ’omc." “You're smitten sr-mns." I laughed. “Well. sir, not. exactly. llut. I admire pretty faces. and hers the prettiest I've ever seen.” ‘ “What's your name?" “West. sirâ€"«JI‘om \\'rst. lifti‘. I stand on the Park Corner." “\\’oll. West." I said. taking a card out of my case. and handing it to him. “if you ever see IIIltlt lady again. and can find out who and what. she is. and where she lives. I'll.,qivc you a present -â€"say twenty iriounds.” “Twenty quid!" the man ochred. with a \\'Ilt>IIt‘. “I‘d like to touch the out. Sll‘. and you bet. I'll keep my weather eye open." “As soon as you've. found her. let me know. and the money is yours. You hinterslnml that's a bargain." _ "Right. you arc. sir. I'll do my vcrv first." ‘ ‘ “If you only knew the driver of the cal she look after we part-ed you might, by her beauty. it Numllcr 07.- rank at Hyde m...» ... ...-. “(it ” 1% on, THE GIRL IN BLUE g E+W+cmmmmm§ seemed a sharp. witty fellow, and I therefore entertained every confidence perhaps, learn something." “That‘s just what I'm thinking," he said. “The man who drove her was, I believe, an old follow that we know as ‘Doughy,’ but I'm not at all sure. However, as soon as I set you down I'll go and find him. A cabman is dif- ficult to recognize on his box if he wears another overcoat, you see. That's why I'm not certain that it really was ‘Douglhy.’ ” By the sharp descent of the roadway I knew that we were already in Essex Street, and. a few moments later I paid the man West and was ascending the stair to my own chambers. The enlistment. into my service of this eabman, the only person who had seen the mysterious Edna, was, I congratu- ict-cd myself, a very shrewd and clever commencement of the which I intended, at all hazards, to can ry out. A cabman .pcrohcd upon his box, and driving hither and thither through the London thoroughfares, is afforded excellent opportunities for ob- servation, and it seemed quite within the bounds of possibility that it' conâ€" stantly on the watch he might. recog- nize her. Indeed, my only means of tracing her was tlhrough the intermediary of this man, who had seen her and ren'iark- 'd upon her marvellous beauty. lie in his efforts to earn the- promisod r - ward. He was now on his way to find his colleague, the old driver “llongliy, and if Edna had actually taken his cab I should, without doubt, soon be in possession of some information. ’llhus, with a Light step and reassured feeling, I ascended the stairs, wonder- ing what old Mrs. Parker would say to my protracted absence, and how I should explain it to her. I took out my latch-key and opened the down As I entered the tiny. lobby that serv- ed the dual purpose of ball and a. place in which to hang coats, a startling sound broke upon my earsâ€"the sound of a woman’s cry. In an instant I drew back. Fresh \mystcry greeted me. I stood there. rig- id, speechless, aghast. CIIAI‘TEI’. VII. The voice which greeted me was that of a woman surprised by my sudden entrance; and walking swiftly forward. to investigate, I passed into my own dingy sittinglroom. “I have a visitor, it claimed, stopping short. know your name?" I There was no response. seems," I ex- “Muy I not Instinctively I knew that the woman I had thus dis- turbed was still present in that room Wheroin I spent so many lonely hours. Iler start-led cry was sutllcicnt to conâ€" vince me that she was there for some secret purpose. “that, I wondered, could it be? , mSpeak,” l urgedl. "‘Iv'indly explain your business with me, and the rea- son of your presence here." Yet- she uttered no word of response, and apparently did not move. I advanced, crossing towards the win- dow, where I believed she must be standing, but with a quick movement my mysterious visitor eluded me. pass- ing me by so near that her warm breath fanned my check, and next instant. she had escaped and slammed the. outer door of my chambers. I stood \\'on:.lering. IIer there was most cxtraordhmry. 'l'he faithful Parker, too, was absent, a cir- cumstance which aroused misgivings within me. Could this strange female visitor :have entered the place with a falsa key; or was she a more pilfcrcr Wheat 1 had disturbed in her search for plunder? Numbers of female thieves haunt the London streets. and it seem- ed more than likely that she was one who had ascended the stairs on pre- tence of setting something or other. At any rate, I had returned at an un- 'oxpccted moment. or she would: not have given vent. to that involuntary cry of dismay. I groped about the fa- miliar room in order to ascertain whe~ thor it. were disordered. but could find nothing whatsoever out. of place. I culled Parker loudly by name. but all was silence save the quick ticking of tin- timopiccc upon the mantclshclf. ’l‘lu- clock of st. Clement Danes chimed merrily. then slowly struck the hour. I counted. amt found that it was eleven o'clock in the morning. How much had .Iltltp)‘)(‘llff'tI during the .past fifteen hours! I had twice nearly lost my life. and ha I. moreover, allied mv- sz-‘f with the mysterious. unseen. Edy *na. whoze great. bc-auty had caused even a phlegmalic cabman to gaze up- on her in wrapt admiration. Having cast aside my hat. I sank into my armchair. muddy amt dirty just. as I was. My head. where it had been struck in the accident. pained me con- siderably. and I felt that [had a touch of fever coming on. Yet all my thoughts were concentrath upon the future and investigation ' l’ll‘C‘QCI'ICC u what the curious alliance with my strange protectress might «bring upon me. Surely no man had ever found himself in a more remarkable situation than I was at that moment; certainly no man could be more mystified and puzzled. Deeply I pondered again and again, but could make nothing of that tangled web of~startling facts. By no desire or inclination of my own I had fallen among what appeared to be very undesirable Company, and had involuntarily promised to become the assistant of some person whom I could not see. The strange oppression that fell upon me seemed precursory of evil. My wet clothes sticking to me chilled nu.- to the bone, and, with a sudden re solve to shake off the gloomy apprehen- sions that seemed to have gripped my heart, I nose and passed into my own room to wash and got a change of cloth- ing. " The prolonged absence of Parker caused me much wonder. She never went out unless to go into the Strand to purchase the diurnal steak or tri- weekly chop which constituted my chief sustenance; on, perhaps. on Bunda y afternoon she would, on rare occasions, go “to take a cup 0‘ tea" With. her daugh- t-cr. who was a music-hall artiste. and lived somewhere off the Kcnnington Road. IIaving cleaned myself, I proccorcd to dress the wound on. my head, my own medical knowledge standing me in good stead, and when I had. satisfac- torily bandaged it. and put on a. dry suit of clothes, I gropcd about through the several small rooms which were my home. Nothing seemed d'isarranged, nothing missingâ€"~01in the woman who had ever been so faithful to me and had treated me as tenderly in my help- lessness as though I :had been her own sun. In impatience I took a cigar. lit it, and sat down to wait. No doubt, when she return-ed I should find that she had been absent upon some errand connect- ed with her not-ovcr-extensive cuisine. Poor old soul, she never was much of a cook. and I always feared to order fresh dishes in consequence of the agon- .ie'~: of indigestion which I invariably suffered afh-r partaking of them. She once, indeed, made me a Mane-mange, and flavored it. with spirit of turpentine histolid of extract of almonds. After that l was compcllod to strike blanc- mange off my menu. Unlike all other laundresses, how-ever, she had no parti- nlity for Old Tom. The thought. grow upon me that my promise to the mys- terious I-ldna, whoever she might be, was a rashly foolish one, and nuist re- sult in some. very serious conticteinps for me. I had willingly given up my ment of a person who had, without doubt, imposed upon me. It. seemed most. probable, now that I reflected, that she was acting in concert with. the" man who had so cleverly practised decep- tion upon me and led me to believe that he was a police-constable. That man, it now seem-ed plain. had followed me from the house of mystery. allowed me to wal'ldcr sufficiently far to lose my bearings, and then got on in fragint of me so that I might approach and uccost him. The whole affair had been carried out with amazing ingenuity, and every precaution had apparently been taken to conceal the renuirkablc tragedy. Yet the chief features of the affair which puzzled me was: the mo- live in otulenvoring to take .my life in that cellar beside the ’l‘hamcs. I had surely :harmed no one, and, being utr terly ignorant of the house wherein the affair had taken place, and also know- ing me to be blind. they certainly could not. fear any revelations that. I might make. It was an enigma which I strove in vain to solve. The tantalizing darkness- .in which I existed drove me to desperation. Imag- ine to yourself my utter helplessness, and my chagrin when I reflected that could I but have looked upon my mys- terious protectres-s amt those who had fallen victims of the unknowu assassin, how different. would have been my po- sitton. The events all seemed like some hidemts night/mare; yet now that. I sit calmly writing this narrative, each in. c’dent comes back to me with a distinct- ncss just. us that which wlietted my ap- petite for further explanation, and pro- voked within me a desire to- have the truth at whatever cost. That. one Could mch with such an advcl'ilure in London seemed almost t-cyond comprehension, yet when one remembers the many strange stories of crime which daily add horror to the pages of the inrwspupcrs. 'it does not seem so actually incredible. as it at first appears. It has been calculated that for every murder discovered in our giant. metropolis, three remain undis- covered, therefore the daily number of such crimes must be very much larger than popularly supposed. Neverthe- less». the circmnstanccs of this midnight tragedy were from every point of view c-xtraordinary, and being enveloped in that veil of mystery, were to me a puz- z‘u. which it. bohovcd me, if possible, to solve. _ At the opening of this nar‘ative of remarkable facts I declared that. the circumstances were stranger than those in which any other living man had been placed. and I here repeat that the truth wil‘. be found even more extraordinary than the actual occurrences as I have related them. Assuredly no detective- office. ever had a more complicated. cn~ igma to solve than that which had fast- cncd itself about me, and certainly in the annals of Scotland Yard there. is no more curious romance than the one which I have here writtcnvas su-bso queni. chapters will show. (To be Continued.) liberty of action and become the instru- - . .1» up?» ~‘%~L§§fi~‘flr THE BIGGEST PAWNSHOP IT IS CONDUCTED BY THE FRENCH GOVERNMENT. â€"â€" 'l'ho Mont dc Pluto is Vast Institutionâ€" Many Curious l'lcdgcs Among Collection. Perhaps the most curious pledge of all is a. silver five-franc. pica-e brought to the Mont do I’iete by working people who, when they were married, had the coin blessed by the priest. It is only in hours of great dist-less that this is brought to the Mont dc Piet-e, where four and a half francs are always lent. upon it. The coin is invariably rcdeenuxl. LIKE A BANK. At closing time the doors are shut, as though the institution were a bank, and the books made up. The pledges are taken from their shelves, checked, and then placed in the 'headrpun'ters wag- gon and driven off. Ilere they are ex- amined, registered and put away upon mil-cs of shelves, or in vast stool vaults, according to their size and value. On the ground floor one may see even automobiles and things which no ordin- ary pawnbrokcr would even dream of ac- cepting, There are thousands of bi- cycles chestnut roosters. peramlnilators, and even the furniture of married couples without children, who may have left Paris for a. pleasure tour. It is quite the thing, by the way, for students to leave cases of books, and wrrkm-en their tools, for safe-keepinrr. In this way not. only are the cl'iarg-cs of a storage company done away with, but the dcpositor actually gets an advance of money while his property is in safe kcepin 0’. MUCII JEWELLERY. On the first floor are rows of immense sat-cs containing jewellery, and many pieces among them worth $50,000. For my lady knows,'.when she goes math to Nice or Mentone or to take the waters of Aix-lcs-Bains, that there is no place of safe-keeping like the Government Mont dc Plate. There are hundreds of thousands of watches, and simply miles of gold chains coiled up in cotton wool like hibernating snakes. ‘ ' Storcys above contain the wearing ap- parel of a great city; then come Inde- scribabl y “‘iiiisoellancoris" regions, and highest. of all one comes upon what the director sadly calls “the region of sorrow amt privation." Ilerc are the mattresses l and bed clothing of the poor, parted with ' only when their owners are in desper- ate straits. All bedding, by the way, is most :a‘refully disinfected by up-to-datc and scientific hygienic machinery before being put away, . MANY RENEVYAIS. The long vistas of walls are pigeon- lncled for boxes and bundles. a renewal is made a. new ticket is stitched over the old one. Count these. tickets and you will see how long the article had been there. I noticed one with ten tickets. There was another little bundle cn which but three francs Iltltt been lent. and yet. it was covered with a. mass of tickets of many hues, because there is a color for each year. About. this little bundle, by the way, there is a story. noticing the smallness of the loan and the astonishing munbcr of renewals, caused a letter to be written to the pled- ger, asking why the bundle had not. been rlidcenied. - The woman came to head- quarters and explained she was too poor. “It is very valuable. to you, is it not?” M Blaize ask-ed curiously. The poor woman burst into tears. “Ah. Monsieur," she sobbed. “it is the only thing I have to remind me of my mother.” This was too muchcveu for a French government ofllcial. The director promptly gave her back the bundle and paid for it. himself. It contained merely an old diniin pctticoat. vb A QUEEN'S Ali-\IYI'MEN'I‘S. Queen Alcxamlru's private apartments in Buckingham Palace are of a style he- fitting her cxaltcd rank. The bodclunu- her is an immense room with a. height of at least twenty feet. In the centre of one side stands. the bedsteadâ€"a massive affair of carved mahogany. It stands so high from the ground that a cushioned slit-u runs all round. Curtains are pro- vided to enclose it entirely if necessary. In the room also are a large dressing- table and two huge wardrobes with plate-. giass doors. Each wardrobe is fully ten feet: high and twelve feet long. On one side of the bcdchamber is another room. lined with wardrobes. 0n the opposite side of the hcdchamber are the balli- room superbly fitted up with marble. onyx, and silver, and the houdoir. deco- rated in rose pink and moss green, with silk-hung walls. Near at hand are suites of apartments occupied by Princess \‘ic- tcria and the Hon. Charlotte Iinollys, her private secretary. .a..____ ARE YOU? Are you half as anxious. neighbor, \\'hen a fellow‘s- dawn and out To go down to him a-smil'ing. And to help him right. almut. As you are to climb the ladder Where. some lucky fellow stands, And give him a cordial greeting With the strength of both your hands? .*â€"â€"â€".â€"â€" Insurance Official-“Of what. coin- plaint did your father die?" Applitant -â€"-“'I‘hc jury fond him guilty." t D l Blatize, the director, , I l W th THE titlitl. FEEDING EARLYâ€"IIA’I‘CIIED I‘UILE’I‘S. It has been held by some that, while Cill'i.\'-lu.dchcd pullcts- make the best win- [if layers, extra early ones may not. be so profitable, unless fed in a special way through the summer; that, if fed stin‘iuâ€" iating food,.they are. likely to lay a few small eggs, than molt prematurely, with great injury to their egg production; and. that, therefore, they should be retarded during the sunnncr, so that they may on- tcr 011 the winter season in full vitality. With the object of testing the truth of this statement, a series of experiments were conducted at Cornell Agr‘eciiltunal Experiment Station, and the results have just been issued in a bulletin, No. 2h).- Four methods of feeding were resorted ' o. In the first pen, the pallets received a grain mixture morning and night 'in he litter, and wet mash at noon. In pen No. 2, the grain mixture was given morn- ing and night in the litter, and dry mash was given in a hopper, open at all times, In pen N0. 3, where the pallet-s were “re- tard-ed," (no sthnulatin g mash being giv on), grain was fed morning, noon and night in litter, and beef scrap once a day in a trough. In pen No. It (also “retard- ec”), the grain mixture and beef scrap were fed in a hopper, open at all times. Grit, oyster shell, and water were kept before all the pullcts constantly, and mangcls and green bone at intervals. Alt of the pull-eta were also allowed, alter. naticly, a grass run, from the time the experiment. startedâ€"July 2de to Nov. 20thâ€"then closed in pens, with wire-net.- tin g openings (cloth in cold weather) as til March 20th. The experiment lasted for 36’1- days. The grain mixtures were composed of cracked corn, wheat and cats, from July 28th, 1900, to January 18th, 1007, and of the some, with the addition of buckwheat, from January 19th to February 16th, .1007. The mash mixture was. made of corn meal, wheat middlings, beef scrap, wheat bran, alfalfa meal. . The results per hon for the 364 days were as follows: Pen 1, average, 121.4 eggs; pen 2, 120.3 eggs; pen 3, 110.7,eggs; pen 4, 107.5 Aeggt‘. Observations 'ro moultlng, etc., weight. of eggs, fertility of eggs, ctc., were also made, and results were Summarised as follows, with the caution, however, that they should in no case be regarded as final until verified by repeated experi- ments with vastly more fowlis: Forcad pullets made a, better profit than “retarded” pallets. The-y ate less food per hen, at. less cost per hen, than “rctarded" pullets; produced more eggs, of a larger size, and at less cost per dozen; gave better hatchin g results; made a greater percentage of gain in weight; had less mortality, and showed the first mature molt. The most prolific pullets, it: was found, did not alwa lay the carb- Each time 1 est flapper-fed dry mash gave better re- sults in gain of weight, product.ion,.of eggs,'gain in weight of eggs, hatching ewer of eggs, days- lo-Sl. in nioulting, mortality, health and profit per hon, than wcl. mash. Wet-mash and grainâ€"fed pulâ€" lcts COI'lStJIllCd slightly less food. at less cost, and produced eggs at slightly less cost per dozen than dry-mash and grainâ€" fed pullets. Hopper-fed pallets ate more than hand-fed pallets. Pullets. having whole gnain, ate more grit and shell than those having a proportimn of ground g'ain. Earliest, producers. did notwgivo as many eggs in early winter. luarly layers gained as rapidly in weight. as those beginning later to lay. l’rohcacy seemed to make but slight difference in weight. of hen and of egg. IMI7'UIII'I‘IIEIS IN .\.\IEI‘.IC;\N SEEDS. Of 1,2t7 samples of red clover seed so- curcd in the open market for purposes of analysis by the United States Deparb ment of Agriculture, 405, or one-third, Contained seed of dodder, and 421+ con- tained traces of yellow trefoil seed. Of 300 samples. of alfalfa seed secured, .101. or about one-half, contained seed of _ doddcr, 135 contained a trace of yellow trefoil, 120 contained a. trace of sweet. clover seed, and 10 contained a trace of burr-clover seed. Of the almve impuri- tics, the only noxious one is the (fodder, but it. is very scrim)»; indeed. Of (St samples of meadow fcscue seed, 20 contained chess in amounts varying from a mere. trace up to over nineteen per cent... It contained seed of rye grass, 3 were misb ended. .I- of them being Lan- ada blue gross, I orchard grass, and the other a mixture of orchard grass and foscuc. - (it 5-5 samples of Brown's incrmis seed, 1;? contained chess. ‘23 contained from 2 tn 3 per cent. of tho wheat grasses, sev- eral contained seed of n‘u‘ntlow foscue, and one. containcd more than 2/1- pcr cent. of meadow fescue and rye grass, (If 5-20 sample: of Kentucky blue grass al'. lull. S contain-rd (,lanada blue grass. in niost of these samples, the trace of Canada blue grass found was immature H't'tI. showing that it. was harvested with the lv'entuclv'y‘blue grass seed. In 110 samples. Canada blue grass socd was found in quai‘ditics exceeding 7) per cent... {12 of these being Canada blue grass seed 'i-ii.~liraudcd Kentucky blue gram, \VIIII'D thank-s I4) [INTRO-Oil (Zonlrot ACL VIM”). “It! Canadian SW11 ll'lfl(1\“ .0” a better basis than that aeloss the I.“lt‘tIt'I‘, it is well for us to be acquainted with the commonest impurities in Anwrimm Sof‘ll. particularly in the met; of “gum.” II”"‘M"IV in ‘»‘-"llCcial. is a postifrrous weed, and cannot. be guarded agaiowst too vigi- lantly. 53.» y» ‘ l V J.» W. “wan/9v- u~-xwixx<_f~y~JWW~W'w/‘ m ’1 ’51 ,y . Q‘: 2 ;'