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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Seaforth News, 1925-12-17, Page 2E kETMAYNES BEGIN HERE TO -DAY. Mark Brendon, famous criminal in vestigator, is taking holiday on Dart moor, where fishing is his-pleasu While visiting a trout stream in Fog gintor Quarry, Mork holds converse tion with a man clad conspicuously 1 Norfolk jacket, knickerbockers and red waistcoat with brass buttons. T stranger's hair; and huge mustaches are fiery red in color. Later Brendon receives a lett from Jenny Pendean asking him t investigate the disappearance of he husband. Mark goes to call at Jenny'' home and learns that the man he m in the quarry is Robert Redmayue uncle to Jenny and suspected of mut. dering Michael Pendean, 'who Melo i missing. ° Robert Redmayne and hi two brothers are Jenny's three livin relatives. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY. ay EDO PKiLPa7ra ILLUSTRA1• D By SeerreRTaBLV qi Iintended, if he could, to stop in the army. He.had escaped'marvelously lou many fields and seen much service, re; During the last few weeks before the armistice, he succumbed to .,gassing and Was invalided; though, before n,. that, he' had also been out of action a from shell shock fox two months, Th "He talked for hour about the. war and what he had done to win his hon- or 1 ars; and we noticed particularly a o feature of his conversation His mem-' r ; ory failed him sometimes. 51 "Michael explained to Me after - at ward that this defect was a serious thing and probably indicated some brain trouble which might get worse. s I begged Uncle Robert to stop with us for a few days instead of going to Plymouth. We walked out over the moor in the evening to see the bunga- low and my uncle was very interested. "Ile stopped on and liked to fend a d hand with the building sometimes Y after the builders had gone. He and • Michael often spent hours of these d long evenings there together; and I k would take out tea to them, "Uncle Robert had told us about g "The war altered everything' an created a painful breach between m future husband and my Uncle Robert Thelatter instantly volunteered an rejoiced in the opportunity to ace adventure. "My husband had no mind for ac tive warfare. He was delicately buil and of a gentle temperament. Unci Robert, however, made a persona thing of it. "He represented the situation to hi brothers, and Unoie. Bendige—wh had just retired, but who, belonging t the Naval Reserve, now joined up and soon took charge of some mine sweep ers—wrote very strongly as to who he thought was Michael's duty. From Italy Uncle Albert also declared his mind to the same purpose, and though I resented their attitude, the decision of course, rested with Michael, not with me. He was only five-ande twenty then and he had no desire but to do his duty. There was nobody to advise him and, perceiving the dan- ger of opposing my uncles' wishes, he yielded and volunteered. "But he was refused. A doctor de- clared that, a heart murmur made the necessary training quite impossible and I thanked God when I heard it. At my own wish Michael married me and I informed my uncles that he had done so. Relations were strained all round after that; but I did not care; and my husband only lived to please me: The Prince of Wales had been instrumental in starting a big moss depot for the preparation of surgical dressings; and both my husband and I joined this station. "For nearly two years we stuck to this task, lodging here with Mrs. Gerry. During that time I fell in love with Dartmoor and begged my husband to build me a bungalow up here when the war was ended, if he could afford ts. do so. His pilchard trade with Italy practically came to an end after the summer of 1914, But the company of Pendean & Trecarrow owned some good little steamers and these were soon very valuable. So Michael, who had got to care for Dart- moor as much as I did, presently took steps and succeeded in obtaining a long lease of a beautiful and shelter- ed spot near Foggintor Quarries, a few miles from here. "Meanwhile I had heard nothing from my uncles, though I had seen Uncle Robert's name in the paper among those who had won the D.S.O. Michael advised me to leave the ques- tion of my money until after the war, and so I did. We began our bungalow last year and came back to live with Mrs. Gerry until it should he com- pleted. "Six months ago I wrote to Uncle Albert in Italy and he told me that he should deliberate the proposition; but he still much resented my mar- riage. I wrote to Uncle Bendigo at Dartmouth also, who was now in his new home; but while not particularly angry with me, his reply spoke slight- ingly of my dear husband. A week ago I was walking out of the post -office, when who should sud- denly stop in front of me on a motor bicycle but Uncle Robert. I waited only to see him dismount and set his machine on a rest before the post - office. Then I approached him.. He was lodging at Paignton, down on Torbay, for the summer months, and he hinted that he was engaged to be married. "He had been to seen an old war comrade at Two Bridges, two miles from here, and meant to lunch at the Duchy Hotel and then proceed to Ply- mouth; but I prevailed upon him at last to come and share our midday meal, and I was able to tell him things about Michael which promised to change his unfriendly attitude. When my husband returned from the bunga- low I brought them together again. Michael was on his defence instantly; but he never harbored a grievance very long and when he saw that Uncle Bob was not unfriendly and very in- terested.to hear he had won the O.B. B. for his valuable services at the depot, Michael showed a ready inclina- tion to forget and forgive the past. "I think that was almost the hap- piest day of my life and, with my anxiety much modified, I was able to study Uncle Roberta little, He seem- ed unchanged, save that he talked iduder and was more excitable than ever. The war had given him wide, new interests; he was a captain and - his engagement to a young woman, o She was stopping at Paignton with 1 her parents and he was now going to 1 return to her. He made us promise s to come to Paignton next August for o the Torbay Regatta; and in secret o I' begged him to write to both my other uncles and explain that he was ! now satisfied Michael had done his bit t ; in the war. "bast night Uncle Robert and Mi- chael went; after an early tea, to the bungalow, but I did not accompany them on this occasion. They ran round by road on Uncle. Robert's motor bicycle, my husband sitting be- hind him, as he always did. "Supper time came and neither of them appeared, I am speaking of last night now, I did not bother till mid - time sister of a comrade in the war. - "When my husband returned from the bungalow. I brought them together.' night, but then I grew frightened. I went to the police station, saw In- spector Halfyard, and told him that my husband and uncle had not come back from Foggintor and that I was anxious about them." Mrs. Pendean stopped and Brendon rose. She shook his hand and a fleeting ghost of a smile, infinitely pathetic but unconscious, touched her face. At the police station a car was wait- ing for Mark and in twenty minutes he had reached Foggintor. Inspector Halfyard rose as Brendon appeared, came forward, and shook hands. "Have you searched the quarries?" "Come out to the bungalow and I'll tel you what there is to tell. There's been a murder all right, but we're more likely to find the murderer than his victim." They went out together and soon stood in the building. "Now let's have the story from where you come in," sold Brendon, and Inspector Halfyard told his tale. "Somewhere about a quarter after midnight I was knocked up. Down I came and Constable Ford, on duty at the time, told me that Mrs, Pen - dean was wishful to see me. "Her husband and her uncle, Cap- tain Redmayne, had gone to the bun- galow, as they often did after working hours, to carry on a bit; but at mid- night they hadn't come borne, and she was put about for 'em. Hearing of the motor bike, T thought there might have been a breakdown, if not an acci- dent, so I told Ford to kiock up an- other chap and go down along the road. Which they did do -and Ford came back at half after -three with ugly news that they'd seen nobody, but they'd found a great pool of blood inside the bungalow—as if somebody had been sticking a pig there. 'Tomas daylight by then and ? motored ,out instanter. "I looked, round very carefully for anything in the nature of a clue, but I couldn't see so eeuch as a button. The quarrymen don't work here be- cause this place hasn't been open for more than a hundred years;. but they go to Duke's quarry down at Merivale, and most of 'em have push bikes to take 'em to and from their job. "At their cottages, on -my Way back Since the recent removal of the scaffolding which cloaked the claselc beauty, of victory Tower, the above Is the first published view of, the now complete memorial which crowns Parliament Hill, Ottawa. The 13 bell carillon is stili to be fastened, The old buildings were destroyed by fire; February, 1916. to breakfast, I got some information of a very definite kind. Two men told the same tale and they hadn't met be fore they told it. One was Jim Bas- sett! under foreman at Duke's quarry, and one was Ringrose,' the water bailiff who lives in the end cottage. Bassett was smoking at his door at ten o'clock and Robert Redmayne same alone, pushing his motor bicycle till he reached the road, And behind the saddle he had a big sack fastened to the machine. "Bassett wished him 'good night', and he returned the compliment; and half a mile down the by -road, Ring - rose also passed him" Inspector Halfyard stopped. "Did Ringrose also report the sack behind the motor bicycle?" asked Brendan. "He did." (To be continued;) Even Unto the Second Childhood. Miss Pa.seay—"You should see all my Christmas gifts right from Santa Claus: He never forgets any of us children." Mies Sharpe—"So good of him to re- member there's a second childhood, I think." — a The Cause. The palm is naught to the dauntlesse, And the cause is more and more. -Richard Havey. • Her Bread as Good as Hie Dough. Hubby—"There's no use talking, you. can't make bread like mother used to make!" Wille—"Without any talk at all, you can't make dough lilts father used to make—so there!" 4 Warwickshire. Why will your mind for ever go To meads In sunny Greece? Our song -birds have as fine v. flow, Our sheep es fair a fleece: Among our hills the honey -bee, And In the leaning pear— I tell you there is Arcady In leafy Warwickshire. Our maids can -match Diana's shape, And- thread the woodland way; , They sing, and from the trees escape Birds musical as they: As Orpheus once Eurydice, The thrush ]ie draws my dear— I tell you there is Arcady In leafy Wawickshire. Apollo's in the winding lanel And Cupid with his smile Comes splendidly across the plain To walk with us a mile: The milkmaid's kiss, the country peace Delight us living here. Content to traffic all of Greece Foe' leafy Warwickshire. ' —Norman Gale. THE MOTHERS OF MEN Withered and old was the little we• molher p nds, and yet, as. I watched man. Work -worn her hands, snow 11 seemedha'' to gnaw as a living thing: white hon hair. Quito useless she "A pretty ;thing," I Ventured, "for a. man child, The bent frame stiiugh. toned, the faded,_ eyes seemed to gleam with light. "Yes," Abe answered, "for a 'mail•bhild, F r seventy years. I'Ve been knitting, knitting, muds of the day, fee• into the night::- Bight boys of my own. Then their sons, 'a score of them. And now the sons of their sons. But I love; boy babies, .1 still can feel their chubby arms about my neck." And grandanothet's smile was transearming, beautiful. Oh, the mothers of men, howmuch we owe them! And this. ga<andmother had mothered men Of Heroic deeds in soldiery, of akiil In medicine, of achievement in the :efts• and.agricul- ture. Unsung, unheralded, she sits in, the shadow and knits. And knits, But sonie day surely, there shall be groat reward for such as grandmother: seemed in a busy household, a mere spectator as her little world moved on. Iereat grandchildren there were within. the home, for grandmother was nearing the century mark. Au old and fragile figure, almost 'unnoticed, except as each meal time came, or'shadowe call- ed for n Beeson of rest. It was always night for. grandmother,' She was blind. Yee, the world had passed grand- mother by. The miracles o1 -to-day,. except that of the radio, meant but little' to iter. The chatter of her grand= children was as language in a foreign tongue. Quiet, unnoticed, she sant, day after day, hei' knitting needle fiashtng in and out. Grandmother could still knit. What a -comfort in her old and slgintlese days, Tiny was the little sock In grand - The Short Cut. "That,old doctrine abouthonesty be Mg the best policy may have been all right in the past, but it is out of date now," remarked Bob Hampton cyni- cally. "Is, hey?" grunted old Turner Gill. "Well, rather, Of coarse, I wouldn't want to be an outcand-out crook, but I've made up my mind that a man can be too conscientious • for his own good. T have -noticed that a man is pretty generally measured by the amount of money he is able to get, if his practices aren't too rank. The pian who believes in 'getting his while' the getting la good' gathers in more 'worms' than the proverbial early bird. The man whois shrewd enough to.'cut bases in the game of life with- out the umpire's catching him is the one who has the most runs marked np to his credit. He lives well, stands high in the community, has plenty of friends., and when he dies the preach- er 'gives him a free ticket to- heaven' the same as if he had walked in the straight andenairow path all his life." "Tickets to heaven are not at the disposal of the ministry, Bob, and the; surface of a stream doesn't show the depth of mud at the bottom. The man who gets what he,wants• by a short out that leaves out the mile -posts of honesty and righteousness will find he has lost his way es sure as right isright and God is God. By no en - tem of mathematics can we compute the value of' a clear conscience, and all the money and fame and pleasure in the world are not a fair price to of- fer a man in exchange for his self --re- spect. A man must live with himself twenty-four hours a day and three hun- dred and sixty-five days in the year; and no man is good company for him- self who is not on the level. A man may steal money or fame or praise or Preferment, but peace of mind nest be honestly earned, The, unrighteous may prosper for a season and seem to be contented, but at the harvest a man must reap that which he has sown. It. is not what men think about us, but what God knows about us, that counts.. However long the payment may be deferred, and whatever flowers may strew the intermediate pathway, you'll find, in the end, 'the wages of sin is death, " Two Epitaphs. I fell In battle; you, allowed to live, Now sigh to find each day more fug!- • tive. I knew alone unwearied work and play; You die a little every hosting day, II, Hare lies 1n pease, a simple soldier's dust; Waste not a tear; he thought the cause was just, ' Haply he pities you, who, passing bY, Live for no cause for which you'd dare to die. — * Ii, H, There are eight species of pine in Canada, but only five are of commer- •eial importance. "Lubber," recently acquired by; a Nebraska firm, is said to be the largsst Horse alive: high andy bay gelding with black points. weighs 3,000 pounds. He is a five-year-old IIs tends 21 betide FOR THE JUNIOR MISS. Frocks for the junior miss are very. smart in velveteen this season, and are doubly sure of smartness if they begin With a long sleeve and end with a flare skirt. Two godets at the front and an inverted plait at the side seams are responsible for the flare in this attractive model. - A becoming round collar chooses a tie with stripes at the ends to fasten at the front. The godets may be omitted and a simple straight-line- frock fashioned from pattern No. 1070, which is in sizes 8, 10, 12 and 14 years, Size 10 years re- quires 2% yards 36 -inch, or 2 • yards 40 -inch material. Prise 20 cents. Our new Fashion Book contains many styles showing how to dress boys and girls. Simplicity is the rule for well-dressed children. Clothes of character and individuality for the junior folks are hard to buy,, but easy to make with our patterns., A small amount of money spent on good ma- terials, cut on simple lines, will give children the privilege of wearing adorable things. Price of the book 10 cents the copy. HOW TO ORDER PATTERNS. Write your name and address plain-. •ly, giving number and size of such patterns as you want. Enclose 20c in stamps or coin (coin preferred; wrap it carefully) for each number, and address your order to Pattern Dept., Wilson Publishing Co,, .79 West Ade- laide St., Toronto. Patterns sent by return mail. The Pace That Kills. Each year flying machines are being > urned out with engines of increasing power, malting it possible to travel through the air at an ever greater speed, The Flying Bullet, that most up-te-date of British seaplanes, bas an average speed of about four mdse per minute, and it seems likely that in the near future ten or twelve miles will become possible. But at what prise? The question is looming large in the mingle of both flying and medical men at the present time as to bow long it will be berate the human body prover s, Itself inferior, in at least one respect, to the machine made with human hands, and collapses under the strain n or. speed. Serious phyalcal results have been felt by airmen fiytng at the compared tively slow speed of four miles a min - ate. Nothing could be worse for the human frame than the results of a h maiden turn while flying through the air at high epeed. , The blood Is wrenched from - the brain and drawn; dawn into the body by centrifugal I force, as a result or which the airman o loses consciousness for the space of some seconds.' 1 As. long as aocoplanes require hu-, man bodies and brains to^control them, say the medical experts, four miles a minute must be their maximuuispeed. y Any rate of travel above this means, ,1 meat ter the pilot a YOUR OWN BOOK- PLATES I� We should treat books as if the,,•-- wone our very beet friends, for though they cannot speak, yet they give u5 many' messages to help and ahoer Bvee'yone ought to hilus 0 !ibrary, ouch if it starts with only a small collection of books. 'Start a little library of your own and add to it as often as possible, perhaps having a seeciai bank which you can call your "hook bank,"' and. saving extra money to buy books' for your library. Perhaps you have a bookcase; all your own Inc your books, • er, maybe,-• - it 18 one special ebelt which bleak -lithe" to you, hitt either way, that' is the ,,. place to start yona••lfabrary,... get a notebook, and in it *rite the name of each one of your books, with tfie name of the author, As you get new books write the list in your catalogue, which is what your•notebook really will be-• come, and ,write down alao the date when yoe received your books. - For .Book Lovers. As you buy; and treasure your books, 'on will surely want to make some bookplates for them. These are alipe of paper which you paste in each book to show to whoils the book belongs, and are often very artistic and un, usual, especially when designed by people who love books. Some day you may want to buy some very beautiful bookplates for your most ' precious books, but at present It will be, more fun to malts some. Cut white or colored paper into four - inch squares, or it you want adifferent style, cut oblong pieces about five ruches• long by three inches . wide, Print your full name near the'top of the parer. Find a tiny picture to paste under this, spacing it in about the mid - die if your bookplate, This may be a r, . picture" of: a ship, a Iireplace,a -book or any pretty scene. If it is not -colon ed, you may like to paint, it or color it with crayons. A snapshot of yourself would look well here, or a ,picture of your home'; but, of cowers, It must be email. At the bottom of your bookplate w. you may print the date, or a line ar a Short verse about books or reading. Perhaps you will have room for the. date and the name of your city and province printed in small letters un- der a two-line verse. Try and make the bookplate_ very neat -and space your lettering and picture so that it gives a pretty :effect, ' Variety In Bookplates. Make as many bookplates as you' have books, and when they are done' paste one In the trout of each book, Inside the front cover. Your book- plates may be made ail alike, otaoaeh.. one may be, different. It would- be in- teresting to have certain sets for your story books and others Inc youa• books of travel, poetry and study books. Try and make the style of your bookplate suit the character of the book In which Yon are going' to use it When your, library ie wo11 started, and your catalogue made, and each one of your books is well cared.for, with a 'pretty bookplate which you have made yourself in the front of every book in your library, you will understand better -what Longfellow meant when he wrote; "The pleasant booke, that silently among Our household treasures take familiar places, And are to us as if a living tongue Spake from the printed leaves or pic- tured faces:" '. "Travels With a —Donkey." It. L. S. has just taken me on a whimsical journey. Over dusty roads and rook -strewn parapets, we followed the pattering hoofs of Modestine. my dull city fashlon I tried to see the country through the calm, observant eyes of my guide, keen alike to Linger over an antiquity or to propose a mer- ry fancy. Whether our path wound toilsome peak or loitered by orchard stream, whether it stumbled among the strongholds of firm -lipped sea tarianism or palely glided toward the winking windows of a dusk -filled vel ley, it was aver the same R. Ie S. be- side me. In all our vagtaneies•' he viewed the scenes with: the same tale measurable calm. How like' spice tt}" 1t all seas the piquancy of .his deep philosophy; and yet 1t was something wanner than a philosophy, rather a tranquil -surfaced love of God and HO creation which no bluster of creed could ruffle. The visions he oonjurod up were as refreshing ea mountain springs and ednsdve as the dimples 1 their eddies. What would you not give to leave this hobbling worldliness and bride forth, on such a pilgrimage tie the, ahrines of skiepleeity—to Ole o' lghts by some Camisard shepherd's path with the staraet heavens yout. anorama and the purl of moonelivee'. , a streams yea•rlealaby? Poor reader tvho would not, I pity you;. dear friar who could net, rejoloe with me, fir ave been with Stevenson .t'hrough the Gexam-we I Cutting Costs. The husband was having otne 01 1i1a ncea1oaal stressks of economy., "Wo avast cult down our expenses)" ie said to his wife. "There's nn arg�u nlent aabont it. We ofmp'ly most.'". The wife e ilei "Quttn tight dear," sine agreed. "A9 on eny there's no argument about d suggest bila tou do not try yto uch long distances on the wireless."