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i-&k& |P%» r- il By William MacHarj* and Edwin Balmer A>^Sn Copyright by f dwin "CORVETS SONI" 8YNOP8I8.--Wealthy anfl highly placed in the Chtcaco business world, Benjamin Corvet 1» something; of a recluse and a mystery to his associates. After a stormy Interview with his partner, Henry Spearman, Corvet seeks Constance Sherrill, daughter of his other business partner, Lawrence Sherrill, and secures from her a promtoe not to marry Spearman. He then disappears. Sherrill learns Corvet has written to a certain Alan Conrad, in Blue Rapids, Kansas, and exhibited strange agitation over the matter. Corvet's letter summons Conrad, a youth of unknown parentage, to Chicago. Alan arrives in Chicago. CHAPTER II!--Continued. She, he saw, Was listening, like htm- Mlf, for the sound of SherrUl's arrival at the house; and when it came •he recognized it first, rose, and excused herself. He heard her voice in the hall, then her father's deeper voice which answered; and ten minutes later, he looked up to see the man these things had told him must be Sherrill standing in the door and looking at him. •Ian had arisen at sight of him; Sherrill, as he came in, motioned him back to his seat; he did not sit down himself, but crossed to the mantel and leaned against it. "I am Lawrence SherriU," he said. As the tall, graceful, thoughtful Mn stood looking down at him, Alan could tell nothing of the attitude of this friend of Benjamin Corvet toward himself. His manner had the same reserve toward Alan, the same questioning consideration of him, that Constance Sherrill had bad after Alan had told her about himself. •My daughter has repeated to me what you told her, Mr. Conrad," Sherrill observed. "Is there anything you want to add to me regarding that?" "There's nothing-1 can add," Alan answered. "I told her all that I know •bout myself." "And about Mr. Corvet?" "I know nothing at all about Mr. Oorvet" "I am going totfell you some things about Mr. Corvet," Sherrill said. A"I had reason--I do not want to explain Jast yet what that reason was--for thlnMng you could tell us certain things about Mr. Corvet, which would, perhaps, make plainer what has happened to him. When I tell you about him now, It Is in the hope that, in that way, I may awake some forgotten memory of liim in you; If not that, you may discover some coincidence of dates or .events In Corvet's ii irTT you tell me frankly, if you do discover anything like that?" "Yes; certainly." for several moments. Sherrill paced up and down before the lire; then he returned to his place before the mantel. "I first met Benjamin Corvet," he commenced, "nearly thirty years ago. I had come West for the first time the year before; I was about your own age and had been graduated from college only a short time, and a business opening had ofTered Itself here. Times were booming on the Great Lakes. Chicago, which had more than recovered from the fire, was doubling Its population every decade; Cleveland, Duluth, and Milwaukee were leaping up as ports. Men were growing millions of bushels of grain which they couldn't ship except by lake; hundreds of thousands of tons of ore had to go by water; and there were tens of millions of feet of pine and hardwood from the Michigan forests. Sailing vessels, it is true, had seen their day and were disappearing from the lakes; were being 'sold,' many of them, as the saying is, 'to the insurance companies' by deliberate wrecking. Steamers were taking their place. Towing had come in. I felt, young nan though I was, that this transportation matter was all one thing, and that in the end the railroads would own the ships. I have never engaged very actively in the operation of the ships; my daughter wo€ld like me to be more active in It than I have been; but ever §lnce, I have had money in lake vessels. It was the year that I began that sort of Investment that I first met Corvet." Alan looked up quickly. "Mr. Corbet Was--r he asked. "Corvet was--is a lakeman," Sher «1H said. Alan- sat motionless, as he recollected the strange exaltation that had come to him when he saw the lake for the first time. Should he tell Sherrill of that? He decided It was too vague, too indefinite to be mentioned ; no doubt any other man used only to the prairie might have felt the ship had suffered serious disaster. Corvet was not jret rich, but unless accident or undue competition intervened, he was certain to become so. Then something happened." Sherrill looked away at evident loss how to describe it. "To the ships?** Alan asked him. "No; to him. In 1896, for no apparent reason, a great change came over him." "In 1896!" "That was the yea#*,•, ; Alf.n bent forward, *fns fieaft thrribbing in his throat. "That was also the year when I was brought and left with the Weltons in Kansas," he said. Sherrill did not speak for a moment. "I thought," he said finally, "It muBt have been about that time; bat you did not tell my daughter the exact date." "What kind of change came over him that year?" Alan asked. Sherrill gazed down at the rug, then at Alan, then past him. "A change in his way of living," he replied. "The Corvet line of boats went on, ex"- panded; Interests were acquired in other lines; and Corvet and those allied with him swiftly grew rich. But In all this great development, for which Corvet's genius and ability had laid the foundation, Corvet himself ceased to take active part. He took into partnership, about a year later, Henry Spearman, a young man who had been merely a mate on one of his ships. This proved subsequently to have been a good business move, for Spearman had tremendous energy, daring, and enterprise; and no doubt Corvet had recognized these qualities In him before/Others did. Since then he has been/ostensibly and publicly the head of the concern, but he has left tne management almost entirely to Spearman. The personal change to Corvet at that time is harder for me to describe to you." Sherrill halted, his eyes dark with thought, his Hps pressed closely together; Alan waited. "When I saw Corvet again. In the summer of *96--I had been South during the latter part of the winter and East through the spring--I was impressed by the vague but, to me, alarming change in him. I was reminded, I recall, of a friend I had had in college who had thought he was In perfect health and had gone to an examiner for life insurance and had been refused, and was trying to deny to himself and others that anything could be the matter. But with Corvet I knew the trouble was not physical. The next year his wife left him." • queatMA ~5tKefr understanding and affection up to the very time she so strangely left him. She died in France In the spring of 1910, and Corvet's first Information of her death cope to him through a paragraph In a newspaper." Alan had started; Sherrill looked at him questionlngly. "The spring of 1910," Alan explained, "was when I received the bank draft for fifteen hundred dollars." * Sherrill nodded; he did not seem surprised to hear this; rather It appeared to be confirmation of something in his own thought. "Following his wife's leaving him." Sherrill went on, "Corvet saw very little of any one. He spent most of his time in his own house; occasionally he lunched at his club, at rare Intervals, and always unexpectedly, he appeared at his office. I remember that summer he was terribly disturbed because One of his ships was lost. The Corvet record was broken; a Corvet ship had appealed for help; been almost violently active and who had once beeti a lake captain. I cannot tell you what they all were-- geology, ethnology, nearly a score of subjects; he corresponded with various scientific societies; he has given almost the whole of his attention to such things for about twenty years. But he has made very few acquaintances In that time, and has kept almost none of his old friendships. He has lived alone In the house on Astor street with only one servant-- the same one all these years. "The only house he hasfrvisited with any frequency has been mine. He has always liked my wife; he had--he has a great affection for my daughter, who, when she was a child, ran iu and out of his home as she pleased. My daughter believes now that his present disappearance--whatever • has happened to him--Is connected In some way with herself. I do not think that is so--" Sherrill broke off and stood In thought for a moment; be seemed to consider, and to decide that It way not necessary to say anything morer on that subject. "Is there anything In what J bare told you which makes it possible for you to recollect or to explain?" Alan shook his head, flushed, and then grew a little pale. What Sherrill told him had excited him by the coincidences it offered between events in Benjamin Corvet's life and his own; it had not made him "recollect" Corvet, but It had given deflniteness and direction to his speculations as to Corvet's relation to himself. Sherrill drew one of the large chairs nearer to Alan and sat down facing him. He felt in an Inner pocket and brought out an envelope; from the envelope he took three pictures, and handed the smallest of them to Alan. As Alan took It, he saw that it was a tintype of himself as a round-faced boy of seven. "That Is you?" Sherrill asked. "Yes; it was taken by the photographer in Blue Rapids." "And this?" The second picture, Alan saw, was one that had been taken In .front of the barn at the farm. It showed Alan at twelve, In overalls and barefooted, holding a stick over his head at which a shepherd dog was jumping. "Yes, that is Shep and I, Mr. Sherrill. It was taken by a man who stopped at the house for dinner one day; he liked Shep and wanted a picture of him; so be got me to make Shep jump, and he took It" "He was a shipowner, then," ant? doot Then he turned for an Instant 'jjjjpl Indecisive as though be dMMtot know bow -tQ-iMgin what he to say. As b$§$$eed down at a tarl* took from his Indecision awtttid. to receive direction and Insplratfeti from it; and he put it down Oft Alan's dresser. "I've brought you," be said evenly, "the key to your house." Alan gazed at him, bewildered. "*^he key to my house?" "To the house on Astor street," Sherrill confirmed. "Your father defied the house and its furniture and all its contents to you the day before he disappeared. I have not the deed here; it came Into my hands the day before yesterday at the same time I got possession of the pictures which might--or might not, for all I knew then--be you. I have the deed downtown and will give It to you. The house is yours in fee simple, given you by your father, not bequeathed to you by him to become your property after his death. He meant by that, I think, even more than the mere acknowledgment that he is your father." SherrW walked to the window and stood as though looking outi but his eyes were blank with thought. "For almost twenty years," be said, "your father, as I have told you, lived in that house practically alone; during all those years a shadow of some sort was over him, I dont know at "Yea; be was a shipowner--not, bow ever, on a large scale at that time. Re had been a master, sailing ships which belonged to others; then he had sailed one of his own. He was operating then, I believe, two vessels; hot with the boom times on the lakes, his interests were beginning to expand. I met him frequently In the next few years, and we became close friends." Sherrill broke off and' stared an inatant down at &e rug. Alan bent toward; he made no interruption but •«<ftly v -'tched Sherrill attentively. B< -en 1886, when I first met him, and 1 Oorvet laid the foundation of great bis boats seemed lucky, qpea to 'work for him, and tie fot thet> >1 .skippers and crews. There was <i -• vl "* that In storm a .Corvei i»r » help; it gave it; «»£•**' year* no Corvet >- • - Doesn't it occur to you that it was "The year of--T Alan asked. , JTQftr picture he. v.'£Cted, and that he "That was --Wipip -wfis"~no had been sent to get It? I wanted your verification that these earlier pictures were of you, but this last one is easily recognizable." Sherrill unfolded the third picture; It was larger than the others and had been folded across the middle to get it into the envelope. Alan leaned forward to look at it. . "That is the University of Kmim football team," he said. "I am the second one in the front row; I played end my junior year and tackle when I was a senior. Mr. Corvet--?" "Yes; Mr. Corvet had these pictures. They came into my possession day before yesterday, the day after Corvtt disappeared; I do not want to tell Jttst yet how they did that." Alan's face, which had been flushed at first with excitement, had gone quite pale, and his hands, as he clenched and unclenched them nervously, were cold, and his lips were very dry. He could think of no possible relationship between Benjamin Corvet and himself, except one, which could account for Corvet's obtaining and keeping these pictures of bin* through the-years. "I think yon know who I am," Alan said. "You have guessed, If I am not mistaken, that you are Corvet's son." The color flamed to Alan's face for an Instant, then left it paler than before. "I thought It must be that way," he answered; "but you said he had no children." "Benjamin Corvet and bis wife had no children." "I thought that was what you meant" A twinge twisted Alan's face; he tried to control it but for a moment could not. S "Do not misapprehend your father,**^ Sherrill said quietly. "1 cannot pre^ vent what other people may think wheh they learn this; but I do not share such thoughts with them. There is much In this I cannot understand; but I know that It Is not merely the result of what others may think It-- of, 'a wife In more ports than one,' as you will hear the lakemen put It. What lies under this is some great misadventure which had changed and frustrated all your father's life.** Sherrill crossed the room and rang for a servant, "I am going to ask yon to be my guest for a short time, Alan," he announced. "I hav% had your bag carried to your room; the man will show you which one it Is." Alan hesitated; he felt that 8herrl11 had not told him all he knew--that there were some things Sherrill purposely was withholding from him; but he could not force Sherrill th tell more than he wished; so after an Instant's Irresolution, he accepted the dismissal. Sherrill walked with him to the door, and gave his directions to tbe servant; he stood watching, as Alan and the man went up the stairs. Then he went back and seated himself In "For Almost Twenty Years," He Said, "Your Father, as I Have Told You, Lived in Practically Atone." all, Alan, what that shadow was. But it is certain that whatever it was that had changed him from the man he was when I first knew him culminated three days ago when he wrote to you. It may be that the consequences of his writing to you were such that, after he bad sent the letter, he could not bring himself to face them and so has merely . . . gone away. In that case, as we stand here talking, he is still alive. On the other hand, his writing yon may have precipitated something that I know nothing of. In either case, if he has left anywhere any evidence of what It Is that changed and oppressed him for all these years, or if there Is any evidence of what has happened to him now, it will be found In his house." Sherrill turned back to Alan. "It is for you--not me, Alan," be said simply, "to make that search. I have thought seriously about It, this last half hour, and hay# decided that Is as he would want It--perhaps as he did want it-- to be. He could have told me what his trouble was any time In these twenty years, if he had been willing I should know; but he never did. Your father, of course, had a key to the front door like this one; nls servant has a key to the servants' entrance. I do not know of any other keys." "The servant Is in charge there now?" Alan asked. "Just now there is no one in the house. The servant, alter your father disappeared, thought that, if he had merely gone away, he might have gone back to his birthplace near Manlstique, and he went up there to look for him. I had a wire from him today that he had not found him and was coming back." Sherrill waited a moment to 'see whether there was anything more Alan wanted to ask; then be went oat "That Was tW7." a Corvet vessel had not reached port. . . . And later In the fall, when two deckhands were washed from another of his vessels and drowned, he was again greatly wrought up, though his ships still had a most favorable record. In 1902 I proposed to him that I buy full ownership in the vessels I partly controlled and ally them with those he and Spearman operated. 8lnce then, the firm name has been Corvet, SherriU, and Spearman, "Our friendship had strengthened and ripened during those years. The intense activity of Corvet's mind, which as a younger man he had directed wholly to the shipping, was directed, after he had Isolated himself In this way, to other things. He took CHAPTER IV. iflftrrlved Safe; WeiIA^$£ AS tfie cIoqj; closed behind wfterrill, Alan went over to the dresser and picked up the key which Sherrill had left. He put it, after a moment, on tbe ring with two or three other keys he ha<f, and dropped them into his pocket; then be crossed to a chalf and sat down. Sherrill had spoken of the possibility' that something might have "happened" to Corvet; but it was plain be to „ be showed* 111 ai . w.. mawiaNt* kBOWMWr «f his had shown flBtt .c£nletien that there had been no mere vulgar liaison In Corvet's life. Did this mean that there might have been some previous marriage of Alan's father--some marriage which had strangely overlapped and nullified his public marriage? In that case, Alan could be, not only in fact but legally, Corvet's son; and such things as this, Alan knew, had nrmeHjliii happened, and had happened by a strange combination of events, innocently for all parties. Corvet's public ^ separation from his wife, Sherrill had said, had taken place in 1897, but the actual separation between them might, possibly, have taken place ldng before that. The afternoon had changed swiftly into night; dusk had been gathering during his last talk" with Sherrill, so that he hardly had been able to see Sherr'll's face, and just after Sherrill had left him, full dark had come, Alan did not kuow. how long he had been sitting In the darkness thinking out these things; but now a littie clock which had been ticking steadily in the blackness tinkled six. Alan heard a knock at his door, and when it was repeffid, h$ called. "Come In." The light which came in from the toll, as the door was opened, showed a man servant The man, after a respectful Inquiry, switched on the light. He crossed Into the adjoining room-- a bedroom; the room where Alan was, be thought, must be a dressing room, and there was a bath between. Presently the man reappeared, and moved softly about the room, unpacking Alan's suitcase. He hung Alan's other salt in the closet on hangers; he put the linen, except for one shirt, in the dresser drawers, and he put Alan's few toilet things with the ivorybacked brushes and comb and other articles on the dressing stand. Alan wondered, with a sort of trepW datlon, whether the man would expect to stay and help him dress; but he only put the buttons in the clean shirt and reopened the dresser drawers and laid out a change of things. "I was to teil you, sir, Mr. Sherrill is sorry he cannot be at home to dinner tonight Mrs. Sherrill and Miss Sherrill wiU be here. Dinner Is at seven, sir." Alan dressed slowly, after the man had gone; and at one minute before seven he went downstairs. There was no one in the lower bail and, after an instant of Irresolution and a glance Into the empty drawing room, he turned Into the small room at the opposite side of the hall. A handsome, stately, rather large woman, whom he found there, Introduced herself to him formally as Mrs. Sherrill. Her reserved, yet utmost too casual acceptance of Alan's presence, £ told him that she knew all the particulars about himself which SherriU had been able to give; and as Constance came down tbe stairs and Joined them half a minute later, Alan was certain that she also knew. Dinner was announced, and they went into the great dining room, where the table with its linen, silver, and china gleamed under shaded lights. The oldest and most dignified of the three men servants who waited upon them in the dining room Alan thought must be a butler--a species of creature of whom Alan had heard but never had seen; the other servants, at least, received and handed things through him, and took their orders from him. "Go back to h--11 •ou!#You---jrou ota't I'll g«t save the Mtwaka!" UNITY M; :U £ If yew have hopinglior the Bay fcrbeoyou could get better tires for less money, now ' I*? §• ywir time. , ^• year Tires are at their beat. They sire bigfer,>;1 vier, and more dtfirable than evet Their quality at its highest leveL these better Goodyear Tires today sell for leas ^noney than at any previous time in our history. tetrhe prices listed befow established a new low level ^|for Goodyears, averaging more than 60 per cent lesa ? jthim the prices of Goodyear Tires in 1910. .v^These would be low prices for any good tire*. 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This civic unit Is so tiny that it h(is to go abroad for its cure of soul and body. For these it has to go to Laurent, the nearest French town. Even the dead must leave Goust to find conseer a ted ground in which to lie; the coffins are slid downhill, ont of the smallest republic in the wotfd.--Philadelphia Ledger. Preparedness. Aa Indianapolis druggist had been rather persistent in endeavoring to collect an account from a man whose credit was rather doubtful. A series of letters, each a little stronger in tone than the one that preceded it, finally brought a reply, as follows: "Dere Sirs--Be Paysshunt. I'd rather owe ye all my life than beet ye out of it. I ain't fergettin'. When them that, owes me pays me you'll get yourn an not before. If ye want no more prepared to meet yore Maker jest now than I am to pay yore bill you shore is agoin' to halfax in a banbaskit." > «, Sufficient Indication. ^ , "When I sees a man playin* checkers three or four hours every afternoon," said Uncle Eben, "I don t need no credit men's agency to tell me be don't have to pay no sartax on his income." Fools n$ver stop to count the east until the bill collector calls. Yet most women prefer to become irlves rather than angela. Mixed Drinks. He had made several vain attempta to swallow the mixture; but, somehow or other, he could not get it down. When at last he did manage to catch the waitress' eye he called to her *WI< said: "There's something funny about this cofTee. it tastes like cocoa." The waitress sipped It, made a wry face, and sipped it again, to make sorst "I'm sorry," she said. ui'va- fivea you tea^--Tit-Bits. &.Y Literal-Minded Witness. The prisoner was being cross-examined by counsel for the prosecution, when the judge Interrupted. "You say you dined at the Hotel Metro. What did you partake off£ The prisoner turned to reply, ' "Beefsteak, my lord," he said. * -the judge looked stern. "On your oath?" he said. * "No, my lord," he said, "og a " Sporting Man's Virtuee. .9Co brag little, to show well, to gently if in luck--to pay up, to up, and to shut up, if beaten are the virtues of a sporting man.--Oliver Wendell H_o_lm_e_s._ _/ ______ ' v u Important to --sthaw Examine carefully every bottle of CASTOBLA, that famous Qld remedy for infants and children, and see that It Bears the Signature of In Use for Over 30 Years. Children Cry for Fletcher's Castom Publicity Musie. "Don't you want the trumpet of flM to sound your name?" "No," replied Senator Sorghum. "X want to be in touch with my time. I'd rather have my name squnde^ If possible, by a saxophone in a Jttf chestra." .4; "J ? ' Limited 8phere. "Has Mr. Orumpson any hobblesT* "Two." "What are they?" and tobacco." -- ^ ^ i»-- J Full Supply. "• "Do you keep paint?" * Mf '• "Ob, yes. Face or feaceiTVHUovlai ^ C ville Courier-Journal. : C.' , To earn much money a eratty has to earn It the way t*e like* to. When a man gets into a pjckle It seldom preserves his temper. one-eleven cigarettes Homelike Touchee. Bbades and curtains should Mi chosen to regulate but not shut out the light and air. Simple, durable, softly hanging materials, such as white or cream voile, scrim, swlss or cheesecloth, hemmed or hemstitched, make good washable curtaina, which may have overcurtalns of colored or figured material. "r> e®e®e®e®e®#®e®e®e©e®e®e®e®e®e@>a®e®e®e®e®e(g>e®e®e®e@e HEAD AND HEART OF LONDON fc- Great Financial Area Is One and Trafalgar Square Is Undeniably the Other. There can be little doubt that London's 'head la that ares <>f the city which contains the Rank «»f England, the stock exchange and other great financial and business houses. But London's heart Is not there, says Ixmdon Answers. There is a coldness about tbe city which d<<e«* not appeal to the stranger. He stand* In awe of it. He looks upon the teeming the chair Alan had occupied, and sat ! traffic and the hurrying folk with a with hands grasping the arms of the j feeing of unrest. chair while he stsr»d into the fire. , Put that same stranger in tteeaelgti- He seemed to be considering and d«- ' borhood of Trafalgar square, where baling something w'thln himself; and | he catches a glimpse of the houses of guarded br Landseer's wonderful Uons, and he will expand at once and say: "Now, this is a hit, all right !" In Trafalgar square there Is a sense of companionship and merry comrudery. That is probably why so many folk congregate there with apparently nothing much to do. Bven the traffic seems to be playing a game of in the corner or general post. The Problem. The problem of civilisation ia te keep Alive a sufficient number of Individuals who cannot and will not be subjected to machines, or to the cliches of tyranny; a non-exploaaUe r__ . ... t minimum Of men who give, but up almost feverishly an Immense num- j presently he seemed to come to a de- \ parliament, the fi>«v ers of the ancient I cannot be inilked, who are neither ber of studies strange studies most | ctrton. He went up the stairs and on : abbey, and see* Kmcliin-v* great suitor i afraid of, nor yoked if them for a man whose youth bad I the second fioer hf went to a .treat; an the symmit of his lofty monument, i Kara Pound. In the Dial ".Si"' : r.r'V&*.i M ' ii.. *£; mciNu . • 4'tL ; 1 v., v. J, 1, • > *» -«« " , i kv* y&k-' ;^*\v '•*>&: ......, r* .•<? - •- • • •-< tm a new package that fits thmpocket-- ! • a price that fits the pocket-book-- " The same unmatched blend of TUM*JSH.VlRGINlAmdBURLEYTbbaCCOt • v* * J • > . ! z.mmuntH. MSl & •#L* aKSnWwtsfcai