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McCartney, No. 8, Seaforth. • • 0 4 0 4 0 0 HisMoney rA. of And By GEORGE BAR McCUTCHEON Dodd, Mead $ Company. (Continued -from last week.) "Don't hesitate to apeak before Blatchford and Hawkes," she said, to my astonishment. "They are to be trusted implicitly. Isn't it truer, Haves?" ' It is, Madam," said he. that—" oyou mean to say, Countess, "It has all been quite satisfactor- ily attended to through Mr. Poopen- dyke," she said. "He consulted me before definitely engaging any one, Mr. Smart, and I referred him to my lawyers in. Vienna. I do hope Hawkes and Blatchford and Henri, the chef, are quite satisfactory to you. They were recently employed by some one in the British embassy at. -+' "Pray rest easy, Countess," I man- aged to say, interrupting out of con- sideration for Hawkes and Blatch- ford, who, I thought, might feel un- comfortable at hearing themselves discussed so impersonally. "Every- thing is moat satisfactory. I did not realize that I had you to thank for my presenb mental and gastronomical comfort. You have surrounded me with diadems." Hawkes and Blatchford very grave- ly and in unison said: "Thank you, sir." - And now let us talk about some- thing else," she said complacently, as if the project of getting the rest of her family into the castle were al- ready off her mind. "I can't tell you how much I enjoyed your last book, Mr. Smart. It is so exciting. Why do you call it 'The Fairest of the Fair'?" Because my publisher insisted on substituting that title for the one I had chosen myself. I'll admit that it doesn't fit the story, my dear Coun- tess, but what is an author to do when his publisher announces that he has a beautiful head of a girl he wants to put on the cover and that the title must fit the cover, so to speak?" "But I don't consider it a bed tiful head, Mr. Smart. A very flliy� blonde with all the earmarks of hav- ing posed in the chorus between the days when she posed for your artist. And your heroine has very dark hair in the book. Why did they make her a blonde on the cover?" "Because they didn't happen to have anything but blonde pictures in stock," said I, cheerfully. "A little thing like that doesn't matter, when it comes to literature, my dear Coun- tess. It isn't the hair that counts. It's the hat." "But I should thinkwould a d it ul d con- fuse the reader," she insisted. "The last picture in the book has her with inkybleak hair,while in all the others she is quite blonde." A really intelligent reader doesn't have to be told that the artist chang- ed his model before he got to the last picture," said I, and I am quite con- fident she didn't hear me grate my teeth. But the critics must have noticed the error and commented upon it." "My dear Countess, the critics nev- er see the last picture in a book. They are much too clever for that." She pondered. "I suppose they must get horribly sick of all the books they have to read." "And they never have a. chance to experience the delicious period of convalescence that persons with less crone afflictions have to look forward to," said I, very gently. "They go from one disease to another, poor chaps." "I once knew an author at New- port who said he hated every critic on earth," she said. "I should think he might," said I, without hesitation. It was not until the next afternoon that she got the full significance of the remark. As I never encourage any one who seeks to discuss my stories with me, being a modest chap with a flaw in my vanity, she abandoned the subject after a few ineffectual attempts to find out how I get my plots, how I write my books, and how I keep from losing my mind. "Would .you be entertained by a real mystery?" she asked, leaning toward me with a gleam of excite- ment in her eyes. Very promptly I said I should be. We were having our coffee. Hawkes and Blatchford had left the room. "Well, tradition says that one of the old barons -bur- ied a vast treasure in the cellar of thio—" "Stop!" I commanded, shaking my head. `Haven't I just said that I don't want to talk about literature? Buried treasure is the very worst form of literature." "Very well," she said indignantly. "You will be sorry when you hear I've dug it up and made off with it." I pricked up my ears. This made a difference. "Are you going to hunt for it yourself?" "I am," she said resolutely. "In those dark, dank, grewsome cellars?" "Certainly." "Alone?" "If necessary," she said, looking at me over the edge of the coffee pup. "Tell me all about it," said I. "Oh, we sha'n't find it, of course," said she calmly. I made note of the pronoun. "They've been searching for it for two centuries without suc- cess. My—that is, Mr. Pless bas spent days dowit,there. He is very hard -up, you know. It would come 4 0 4 0 4 4 6 • 1 0 4 i :ted gowored +++�t'ln d trate alai ;.like the i sa !?ia ° tee kiF 'for tae urea in my,capoe."- . clic' gave .>roo. a sm11 for tht. • CHAPTER R • I- :gree t9 Meet the Ilitemy, That night I dreamed' 'of going down, down. down into . the bow.ela of the earth after buried treasure, and finding at the end of nip hdurs of travel the countess's mother sitting in bleak splendour on a cheat of gold with her feet drawn up and sur- rounded by an audience of spiders. For an our;or more after leavin the enchanted rooms near the roof, I lounged in my study, persiateptly'at- tentive to the portrait of Ludwig the Red, with my ears straining for sounds from the other side of the se- eretpanels. Alasl those panels were many cubits thick and as staunch as the sides of a battleship. But there, asleep perhaps, with her brown head pillowed close to the wall but little more than an arm's length from the crimson waistcoat of Ludwig the Red —for he at rather low like a Chinese god and >tupported his waistcoat with his knees. A gross, forbidding chap was hel The story was told of him that he could quaff a flagon of ale at a single gulp. Looking at his por- trait, one could not help thinldng what a pitifully infinitesimal thing a flagon of ale is after all. Morning came and with it a sullen determination to get down to work on my long neglected novel. 'I went down to breakfast. Everything about the place looked bleak and dreary and as grey as a granite tombstone. Hawkes, who but twelve hours be- fore had seemed the embodiinentj'of life in its most resilient form, now appeared as a drab memesis with wooden legs and a frozen leer. My coffee was bitter, the peaches were like sponges, the bacon and rolls of uniform sogginess and the eggs of a strange liverish hue. I sat there a- lone, gloomy and depressed, contrast- ing the hateful sunshine with the soft, witching refulgence of twenty- four candles and the light that lies in a woman's eyes. "A fine morning, sir," said Hawkes in a voice that seemed to come from the grave. It was the first time I had ever heard him speak so dolor- ously of the morning. Ordinarily he was a pleasant voiced fellow. "Is it?" said I, and my voice sound- ed gloomier than his. I was not sure of it, but it seemed to me that he made a movement with his hand as if about to put it to his lips. Seeing that I was regarding him rather fix- edly, he allowed it to remain suspend- ed a little above his hip, quite on a line with the other one. His elbows were crooked at the proper angle I noticed so I must have been doing him an injustice. He couldn't have had anything disrespectful in mind. Send Mr. Poopendyke to me, Hawkes, immediately after I've fin- ished my breakfast." "Very good, sir. Oh, I beg par- don, sir. I am forgetting, Mr. Poop- endyke is out. He asked me to tell you he wouldn't return before eleven." "Out? What business has he to be out?" "Well, sir, I mean to say, he's not precisely out, and he isn't just what one would call in. He is up in the —ahem!—the east wing, sir, taking down some correspondence for ad the— for he—for the 1 sir." Y, I arose to the occasion. "Quite so, quite so. I had forgotten the ap- pointment" "Yes, sir, I thought you had." "Ahem! I daresay Britton will do quite as well. Tell him to—" "Britton, sir, has gone over to the city for the newspapers. You forget that he goes every morning as soon as he has had his—" "Yes, yes! Certainly," I said hast- ily. "The papers. Ha, ha! Quite right." It was news to me, but it wouldn't do to let him know it. The countess read the . papers, I did not. I stead- fastly persisted in ignoring the Paris edition of the New York Herald for fear that the delightful mystery might disintegrate, so to speak, be- fore my eyes, or become the common- place scandal that all the world was enjoying. As it stood now, I had it all to myself—that is to say, the mys- tery. Mr. Poopendyke reads aloud the baseball scores to me, and nothing else. It was nearly twelve when my se- cretary reported to me on this par- ticular morning, and he seemed a trifle hazy as to the results of the games. After he had mumbled something about rain or wet grounds, I coldly enquired: "Mr. Poopendyke, are you employ- ed by me or by -that woman upstairs?" I would never have spoken of her as "that woman," believe me, if I had not been 4n a state of irritation. This New Discovery! 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Poopendgyket Dear mel I am not a! ghbat sir!"' �� fidr;gers dropped @ the le eyboarrd. He looked positively stunned. "Sir," you jerked out, gasped. Eben he felt of his heart. "My God? I did not repeat. the question, but Ido,,@'t believe 1t' going." managed to demand rather fiercely: Together. we inspected the secret "Are you?" doors, going eo far as to enter the "The counteea had got dreadfully room .beyond, the Countess peering behind with her Boric, air, add I through after ua 'from my study. To thought you wouldn't mind if I helped mso- my ay ezemaBeds,t thotroom, garwasments, her out a bit," he e)tplained nervous- chairs--everythingbin ly. fact has van - "Work? What work?" ished as if whisked away by an all- " "Her powerful genie. "What does this mean?" I cried, turning to her. H diary, sir. Sheis keeping a diary." 1'I deed!" "It is very interesting, Mr. Smart 1",4 den 't mind sleeping upstairs, Rather beats any novel I've read late+!,°Sow that I have a telephone," she ly. We—we've brought it quite up I said serenely. "Max and Rudolph to date. I wrote at' least three pages moved everything lip this afternoon-" Poopendyke and I returned to the study. I, for one, was bitterly dis- appointed. "I'm sorry that I had the 'phone put in," I said. Please don't call it a 'pyrone!" she objected. ` 'I hate the word 'phone."' So do I," said Poopendyke reck- lessly. I glared at him. What right had he to criticise my manner of speech? He started to leave the room,"after a perfunctory scramble to put his pa- pers in order, but she broke off in the middle of a sentence to urge.him to remain. She announced that she, was calling on both of us. "Please don't stop your work on my account,",,she said, and promptly sat down at ?lie typewriter and began pecking at the keys. "You must teach me to run a typewriter, Mr. Poopendyke. I shall be as poor as a church mouse before long, and I know father won't help me. I may have to become a stenographer." He blushed abominably. I don't be- lieve I've ever seen a more unattrac- tive fellow than Poopendyke. "Oh, every aloud has its silver lin- ing," said he awkwardly. But I am used to gold," said she. The bell on the machine tinkled. "What do I do now?" He made the shift and the space for her. "Go right ahead," head," said he. She scrambled the whole alphabet across his neat sheet but he didn't seem to mind. "Isn't it jolly, Mr. Smart? If Mr. Poopendyke should ever leave you, I may be able to take his place as your secretary." I bowed very low. "You may be quite sure, Countess, that I shall dis- miss Mr. Poopendyke the instant you apply for his job." And I shall most cheerfully abdi- cate," said he. Silly ass! I couldn't help thinking how infin- itely more attractive and perlious she would be as a typist than the ex- cellent young woman who had mar- ried the jeweller's clerk, and what an improvement on Poopendyke! dyke! I came down to inquire wheh you would like to go exploring for buried treasure, Mr. Smart,' she said, after the cylinder had slipped back with a bang that almost startled her out of her pretty boots and caused her to give up typewriting then and there, forevermore. "Never put off till to -morrow what you can do to -day," quoted I glibly. She looked herself over. "If you knew how many times this gown had to be put off till to -morrow, you wouldn't ask me to ruin it the second time I've had it on my back." "It is an uncommonly attractive gown," said I. "Shall we set tomor- row for the treasure quest?" "To -morrow is Sunday." "Can you think of a better way to kill it?" "Yes, you might have me down "Tell them to wait," said I. Then here for an old-fashioned midday I hurried to the top of the east wing dinner " to 'ask if she had the least objection to an extension 'phone being placed in my study. She thought it would be very nice, so I returned with in- structions for the men to put in three instruments: one in her room, one in mine, and one in the butler's pantry. It seemed a very jolly arrangement. all 'round. As for the electric bell system, it would speak for itself. Toward the middle of the after- noon when Mr. Poopendyke and I were hard at work on my synopsis we were startled b}- a dull, myster- ious pounding on the wall hard hy. We paused to listen. It was quite impossible to locate t he sound, which ceased almost imihediately. Our first thought was that the telephone men were drilling a hole through the wall into my study. Then came the sharp rat -arta -tat once more. Even as we looked about us in bewilderment, the portly facade of Ludwig the Red moved out of alignment with a heart- rending squeak and a long thin streak of black appeared at the inner edge of the frame, growing wider,— and blacker if anything,—before our startled eyes. "Are you at home?" inquired a voice that couldn't by any means have emanated from the rhest of Ludwig, even in his mellowest hours. I leaped to my feet and started a- cross the room with great strides. My secretary's eyes were glued to the magic portrait. His fingers, looking like claws, hung suspended over the keyboard of the typewriter. '`Bsthe Lord Harry!" I cried. "Yes I" about the dinner last night. If I am to believe what elle puts into her diary, it must have been a delightful occasion, as thg neWspapers would say." I was somewhat mdllifled. "What did she have to say about it, Fred?" I asked. It always' pleased im to be called Fred. "That would be betraying a confi- dence," said he, "I will say this much, however: I think I wrote your name fifty times or more in coniige- tion with it." Rubbish!" said I. "Not at all!" said he, with agree- able spirit. A sudden chill came over me. "She isn't figuring on having it published, is she?" "I can't say as to that," was his disquieting reply. "Itwasn't any of my business, so I didn't ask." "Oh," said I, "I see." "I think it is safe to assume, how- ever, that it is not meant for publi- cation," said he. "It strikes me as being a bit too personal. There are parts of it that I don't believe she'd dare to put into print, although she reeled them oft to me without so much as a blush. 'Pon my soul, Mr. Smart, I never was so embarrassed in my life. She—" "Never mind," I interrupted hast- ily. "Don't tell tales out' of school." He was silent for a moment, finger- ing his big eye -glasses nervously. "It may please you to know that she thinks you are an exceedingly nice man." "No, it doesn't!" I roared irascibly. "I'm damned yf I like being called an exceedingly nice man." "They were my wards, sir, not hers," he explained desperately. "I was merely putting two and two to- gether—forming an opinion from her manner not from her words, She is very particular to mention every- thing youdo for her and thanks me if I call her attention to anything she may have forgotten. Sye cer- tainly lY appreciates your kindness to the baby." That is extremely gratifying," said I acidly. He hesitated once more. "0f course, you understand that the di- vorce itself is absolute. It'sonly the matter of the child that remains un- settled. The—" I fairly barked at him. "What the devil do you mean by that sir? What has the divorce got to do with it?" "A great deal, 1 should say," said he, with the rare, almost superhu- man patience that has made him so valuable to me. "Upon my soul!" was all that I could say. Hawkes rapped on the door luck- ily at that instant. "The men from the telephone com- pany are here, sir, and the electric- ians. Where are they to begin, sir?" "Capital! Why not stay for sup- per, ton?" "It would be too much like spend- ing a day with relatives," she said. "We'll gn treasure hunting on Mon- day. I haven't the faintest notion where to look, but that shouldn't make any difference. No one else ever had. By the way, Mr. Smart, I have a bone to pick with you. Have you seen yesterday's papers? Well, in one of them. there is a long ac- count of my—of Mr. Pless's visit to your cGgastle, and a lengthy interview in whit~h you are quoted as saying that he is one of your dearest friends and a much maligned man who de- serves the sympathy of every law- abiding citizen in the land." "An abominable lie!" I cried indig- nantly. ndictnantly. "Confound the newspapers!" "Another paper says that your for- tune has been placed at his disposal in the fight he is making against the criminally rich Americans. In this particular article you are quoted as saying that I am a dreadful person and not fit to have the custody of a child." "Good Lordl" I gasped helplessly. "You also expect to do everything in your power to interest the admin- istration at Washington in his be- half." "Well, of alt the— Oh, i say. Countess, you don't believe a word of all this, do yon?" She regarded me pensively. "You have said some very mean, uncivil things to me." "if i thought you believed—" i be- gan desperately. hut her sudden smile The secret door swung quietly op- relieved me of the neceseit-y of •jump en, laying Ludwig's face to the wall, ing into the river. "By jove, I shall find in the aperture stood my amaz-write to these miserable sheets, Be- ing neighbour, as lovely a portrait as vying every word they've printed_ you'd see In a year's trip through all And what's more, I'll bring an action the galleries in the w6%ld. She was for damages against all of 'em. Why it is positively atrocious! The whole; smiling down upon us from the slight- e n: word will think I despise you and--"!" I stopped very abruptly in great con- fusion. "And—you don't?" she queried, With real eeriogsnese hi he; voice, "You don't despise ;flier' • "Certainly. not!" I 'cried vehement. Iy. Turning to Poopendyke, I acid: "Mr. Poopendyke, will yon at once prepare a complete. and emphatic de- nial of every da --'of every Word they have printed about me, and I'll send it. to all ,the American correspond- ents fn Europe. We'll cable it, our- selves to the United States. •I shall not rent until I am set straight in the eyes of my fellow -countrymen. The whole world shall know, Countess, that I ape for Tett fret, last and all the time. It shalt know—" "But you don't know who I am, Mr. Smart," she broke in, her cheeks very warm and rosy. "How can you publicly espouse the cause of one whose name you refuse to have men- tioned in your presence?" I dismissed her question with a wave -of the hand: "Poopendyke can supply the name after I have signed the ' statement. I give )rim carte blanche. The name has nothing to do with the case, so far .as I am con- cerned. Write it, Fred, and make it strong." She came up to me and held out her hand. "I knew you would do it," she said softly. "Thanks." I bent low over the gloved little hand. "Don Quixote was a happy gentleman, Countess, with all his idi- osyncrasies, and so am I." She not only came for dinner with us on Sunday, but made the dressing for my alligator pear salad. We were besieged by the usual crowd of Sunday sight -seers, who came clam- ouring at our staunch, reinforced gates, and anathematised me soundly for refusing admission. One bour- geoise party of fifteen refused to leave the plaza until their return fares on the ferry barge were paid, stoutly maintaining that they had come over in good faith and wouldn't leave until I had reimbursed them to the • extent of fifty hellers apiece, ferry fare. I sent Britton out with the money. He returneed with the rather disquieting news that he had recognized two of Mr. Pleas's secret agents in the mob. I wonder if he suspects that I am here," said the Countess pailing per-. ceptibly when I mentioned the pres- ence of the two men. "It dosen't matter," said I. "He can't get into the castle while the gates are locked, and, by Jove, I in- tend to keep them em locked." "What a delightful ogre you are, Mr. Smart," said she. •Nevertheless, I did not sleep well that night. The presence of the two detectives outside my gates was not to be taken too lightly. Unquettion- ably they had got wind of something that aroused suspicion in their minds. I confidently expected them to reap- pear in the morning, perhaps dis- guised as workmen. Nor were my fears wholly unjustified. Shortly after nine o'clock a sly - faced man in overalls accosted me in the hall. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Smart," he said in fairly good English, "may I have a word with you? I have a message from Mr. Pleas." I don't believe he observed the look in Y1b tins of ooacerry +that _. "from Mr, Plleec;� V' g, urrgis L; beer so curie** "snit a gnlet, aim* war "I am an agept of vino).." be ezPiat v$ k day I failed to ga}r�it visitor, tb day.I C901, We work a myete o . "is it necessary for " lr. resort, to a' subterfu e,pf tactor in order to t 'a. Inn_z me?" I demanded Mligaaittlyy ' He shrugged his stt'o'pltlerii i "It was not necessary yeatarlin but it is to -day," said" se ..Re APeite ' closer and lowered his" voice, "° 1'0'r every movement is being Watched the Countess's d-eteetivea We .Pie obliged to resort to trickery to throw: ' them off the scent. Mr. Plegia .bath'' t read what you had to say in the news« papers and he is ' too grateful, Air, !to subject • you to unnecessary an- noyance at the hands of her agent; Your friendship is sacred to. to He realizes that it means a great'',...ij i to have the support of,one a i ful with the United States mat: If we are to .worlt ieget1fi r; - i Mr. Smart, in bringing this wro to jstatice, it must 'be 'managed extreme skill or her family mar--" ! "What is this you are saying?" I I broke in, scarcely able to believe I ears. ! "I speak English so badly,' apologised. "Perhaps I should do ne more than to give you his mess9ge. He would have you to meet him sec- retly to -night, at the Rempf 'Hotel, across the river. It is most import- ant that you should do so, and that you should exercise great caution. I am to take your reply back to him-" For an instant I was fairly stupe- fied. Then t experienced a feeling of relief so vast that he must hare seen the gleam of triumph in Ay eyes. The trick was mine, after all. "Come into my study," I said. He followed me upstairs and into the room. Poopendyke was there. "This is my secretary, you may speak free- ly before him-" Turning to Poopen- dyke, I said: "Yon have not seat that statement to the, newspapers, have you? Well, let it rest for a day or two. Mr. Pleas has sent • a representative to see me." I scowled at my secretary, and he had the sense to hide his astonishment. The fellow repeated what he had said before, and added a few instruc- tions which I was to follow with care if I would dor M . Pless the honour to waito up n him that evening at the Rempf Hotel. You may tell Mr. Pless that I shall be there at nine," said I. The agent departed. When he was safely out of the room, I explained the situ- ation to Poopendyke, and then'made my way through the secret panels to the Countess's rooms. She was ready for the subterran- ean journey in quest of treasure, at- tired in a neat walking skirt,with her bonny hair encased in a swim- ming cap as a guard against cobwebs. (Continued next week.) We have it from an eminent fashion authority that short skirts are not , worn any longer.—Wingham Times. SMO KIE and 154 Picts OLD CHUM Therrobaccxpor