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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Expositor, 1923-09-07, Page 7pt�lw' a m l ?+a � gG@nr tits 54 ,ryti4' � a Igki >N<It fora n �X loaf: A dilfolon: aoo!i d. in an lid t INK sPOi • I., y Ever 10c Packet of WILSON'S FLY PADS WILL KILL MORE FLIERTHAN / $$?°NORTH OF ANY , \STICKY FLY CATCHER Clean to handle. Sold by all Druggists, Grocers and General Stores SHE McKILLOP MUTUAL TIRE INSURANCE CO'Y. HEAD OFFICE—SEAFORTH, ONT. OFFICERS: J. Connolly, Goderich - President Jas. Evans, Beechwood, vice-president D. F. McGregor, Seaforth, Sec.-Treas. AGENTS: Alex. Leitch, R. R. No. 1, Clinton; W. E. Hinchley, Seaforth; John Mur- ray, Egmondville; J. W. Yeo, Gode- rich; R. G. Jarmuth, Brodhagen. DIRECTORS: William Rims, No. 2, Seaforth; John Bennewies, Brodhagen; James Evans, Beechwood; M. McEwen, Clin- ton; James Connolly, Goderich; Alex. Broadfoot, No. 3, Seaforth; J. G. Grieve, No. 4, Walton; Robert Ferris, Harlock; George McCartney, No. 3, Seaforth; Murray Gibson, Brucefield. Stop! Look! Listen! 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A And tow• Ita'fi surds 'neWe lrou. she yai , 11040 Mill' be hero on Th day' au wiR' net like, herr of c : ,"intiauae yFw are alrea y Pre). 4. but I know' O lay o �l she will like you.' O GEORGE BAH MoCUTC EON O I: -knew I should- bate', her mother, but of course it would not do to aay O Dodd; Mead ds company. O so. o'O o O o o O O O O o o nodded Chet head. "I hope, she will ` "Next Thuredafl" I bagnifid: She like me, I added feeling that it was She was a Colinggrraft, Yen kngvx." Icor an hour I eat a the' win- "Indeed?"The Colingf<aft faintly dow absorbing the as� 41 history' Was one of the .oldeaf' and, most ex - of the Tarnowsy abduction case. I' elusive in New Yo;'$. I had a vague ielt.rather than observed the intense recollection of hearing one of my fa - scrutiny' with which she favoured me, etidious friends at home say that it At lest she used the remainder of moat have been a bitter blow to the the bundle unread, into a corner. Her Colingrafts when, as an expedient, Agonecessary,. face was aglow with pleasure. she married the ,vulgarly rich Jasper "You've read both sides, and I'veTitus, then of St. Paul, Minnesota. It watched you --oh; so closely. You had been a clear case of marrying the don't believe what the papers over money, not the man. Aline's mar - here have to say. I saw the scowls riage, therefore, was due to heredi- when you read the translations that tory cold-bloodedness and not to Mr. Poopendyke has typed for me. covetousness. "A fine old name, Now I know that you do not feel so Countess." bitterly toward me as you did at "Titus suggests titles, therefore it first." has come to be our family name," I was resolved to make a last de- she said, with her satiric smile. "You termined stand for my original coq- victions. "But our own papers, the New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago journals,—still voice, in a way, my principal contention in the matter, Countess. They deplore the wretched custom among the idle but ambitious rich that made possible this whole lamentable state of affairs. I mean the custom of getting a title into the family at any cost." "My dear Mr. Smart," she said ser- iously, "do you really contend that all of the conjugal unhappiness and un- rest of the world is confined to the American girls who marry noblemen? Has it escaped your notice that there are thousands of unhappy marriages and equally happy divorces in Amer- ica every year in which noblemen do not figure at all? Have you not read of countless cases over there in which conditions are quite similar to those which make the Tarnowsy fiasco so notorious? Are not American wo- men stealing their children from American husbands? Are all Amer- ican husbands so perfect that Count Tarnowsy would appear black among them? Are there no American men who marry for money, and are there no American girls given in marriage to wealthy suitors of all ages, creeds and habits? Why do you maintain that an unfortunate alliance with a foreign nobleman is any worse than an unhappy marriage with an ordin- ary American brute? Are there no bad husbands in America?" "All husbands are bad," I said, "but some are more pre-eminently evil than others. I am not finding fault with Tarnowsy as a husband. He did just what was expected of him. He did what he set out to do. He isn't to be blamed for living up to his creed. There are bad hus- bands in America, and bad wives. But they went into the game blindly, most of them. They didn't find out their mistake until after the mar- riage. The same statement applies to' husbands and wives the world over. I hold a brief only against the mar- riage wherein the contracting par- ties, their families, their friends their enemies, their bankers and their cred- itors know beforehand that it's a business proposition and not a sacred compact. But we've gone into all of this before. Why rake it up again." "But there are malty happy mar- riages between American girls and foreign noblemen—dozens of them that I could mention." "I grant you that. I know of a few myself. But I think if you will reflect for a moment you'll find that money had no place in the covenant. They married because they loved one another. The noblemen in such cas- es are real noblemen, and their Am- erican wives are real wives. There are no Count Tarnowsys among them. My blood curdles when I think of you being married to a man of the Tarn- owsy type. It is that sort of a mar- riage that I execrate." "The buy and sell kind?" she said, and her eyes fell. The color had faded from her cheeks. "Yes. The premeditated murder type." She looked up after a moment. There was a bleak expression in her eyes. "Will you believe me if I say to you that Iwent into it blindly?" "God bless my soul, I am sure of it," I cried earnestly. "You 'had never been in love. You did not know." "I have told you that I believed myself to be in love with Maris. Doesn't—doesn't that help matters a little bit?" i looked away. The hurt, appeal- ing look was in her eyes. It had come at last, and, upon my soul, I was as little prepared to repel it as when I entered the room hours ago after having lived in fear of it for hours before that. I looked away because I knew that I should do something rash if I were to lose my head for an L Stant. She was like an unhappy pleading child. I solemnly affirm that it was tender -heartedness that moved me in this crucial instant. What man could have felt otherwise?" I assumed a coldly impersonal tone. "Not a single editorial in any of these papers holds you responsible for what happened in New York," I said. She began to collect the scattered newspaper clippings and the type- written transcriptions. I gathered up those in the corner and laid them in her lap. Her fingers trembled a little. "Throw them in the fireplace, please," she said in a low voice. "I kept them only for the purpose of showing them to you. Oh, how I hate, how I loathe it all!" When I came back from the fire- place, she was lying back in the big, comfortable chair, a careless, whims- - more than any one else in the world —more than all the world- He is making the great fight for me, Mr. Smart. He would buy off the Count to -morrow if I would permit him' to do so. Of late I have been thinking very seriously of suggesting it to him. It would be the simplest way out of our troubles, wouldn't it? A million is nothing to my father." "Nothing at all, I submit, in view of the fact that it may lie the means of saving you from a term in prison for abducting Rosemary?" She . paled. "Do you really think they would put me in prison?" "Unquestionably," I pronounced emphatically, "Oh, dear!" she murmured. "But they can't lock you up until they've caught you," said I reassur- ingly. "And I will see to it that they do not catch you." "—I am depending on you entirely, Mr: Smart," . she said anxiously. "Some day may be in position to Y a repay you for all the kindness—" "Please, please!" "— and all the risk you are taking for me," she completbd. "You see, you haven't the excuse any longer that you don't know my, name and story. You are liable to be arrested yourself for—" There came a sharp rapping on the door at this instant—a rather imper- ative, sinister rapping, if one were to judge by the way we started and the way we looked at each other. We laughed nervously. "Goodness! You'd think Sherlock Holmes himself was at the door," she cried. "See who it is, please." I went to the door. Poopendyke was there. He was visibly excited. "Can you coque down at once, Mr. Smart?" he said in a voice not meant to reach the ears of the Countess. "What's up?" I questioned sharply. "The jig, I'm afraid," he whisper- ed sententiously. Poopendyke, being a stenographer, never wasted words. He would have made a fine play- wright. "Good Lord! Detectives?" "No. Count Tarnowsy and a stranger." "Impossible!" The Countess, alarmed by our manner, quickly crossed the room. "What is it?" she demanded. "The Count is downstairs," I said. "Don't be alarmed. Nothing can happen. You—" She laughed. "Oh, is that all? My dear Mr. Smart, he has come to see you about the frescoes." "But I have insulted him!" "Not permanently," she said. "I know him too well. He is like a leech. He has given you time to re- flect and therefore regret your action of the other night. Go down and' see him." Poopendyke volunteered further in- formation. "There is also a man down there—a cheap looking person —who says he must see the Countess Tarnowsy at once." "A middle-aged man with the up- per button of his waistcoat off?" she asked sharply. "I—I can't say as to the button." "I am expecting one of my lawyers. It must be he. He was to have a button off." "I'll look him over again," said Poopendyke. "Do. And be careful not to let the Count catch a glimpse of him. That would be fatal." "No danger of that. He went at once to old Conrad's room." "Good! I had a note from him this morning, Mr. Smart. He is Mr. Bangs of Lond'on." "May I inquire, Countess, how you manage to have letters delivered to you here? Isn't it extremely danger- ous to have them go through the mails?" "They are all directed to the Schmicks," she explained. "They are passed on to me. Now go and see the Count. Don't lend him any money." "I shall probably kick him over the cliff," I said, with a scowl. She laid her hand upon my arm. "Be careful," she said very earnestly, "Tor my sake." ,Poopendyke had already started down the stairs. I raised her hand to my lips. Then I rushed away, curs- ing myself for a fool, an ingrate, a presumptuous bounder. My uncalled-for act bad brought a use i111IN NIGHT fe MORNINGfe ,JEEP YOUR 'EYE,S CLEAN CLEAR AND HBALi ecos. "a -pass aw-aaaa:aUse,tw, ',.. .544.4 41 1 ,. , �,:, h , ,. :rF�, a, , <�.m , ., ,,rte. - awlft flush of an to her cheek. I saw- it quite pIa' as she lowered her head and dreiM back into. the shadow of the ,, cfy'tain. Bounder! That is what I wap for taking'.adF vantage of her simple trust . in me. Strange to aay,.shes.came to the head of the stairs and *Stoked me until I was out of eight. in the hall be- low. The Count was waiting for Inc in the loggia. it Watt quite wbrtn, and he fanned himself lazily with his broad straw hat, ..As I approached, he tossed his cigarette over the wall and hastened to meet me. There was a quaint diffident smile on his lips. It is good t6 ace you again, old fellow," he said,, with an amiability that surprised me. "I was of#aid you might hold a,• grievance against me. You Americana are queer chaps you know. Our'littjtr tilt of the other evening, you understand. Stupid way for two grown-up men to be- have, wasn't it? Of course, the ex- planation is simple. We had been drinking. It en do silly things in their cups." Consummate assurance! I had not touched a drop of anything that night. "I assure you, Count Tarnowsy, the little tilt, as you are pleased' to call it, was of no consequence. I hada quite forgotten that it occurred. Sorry you reminded me of it" The irony was wasted. He beam- ed. "My dear fellow, shall we not shake hands f" There was something irresistibly winning about him, as I've said be- fore. Something boyish, ingenuous, charming,—what you will,—that went far toward accounting for many things that you who have never seen him may consider incomprehensible. A certain wariness took possession of me. I could well afford to tem- porise. We shook with what seemed to be genuine fervour. "I suppose you are wondering what brings me here," he said, as we started toward the entrance to the loggia, his arm through mine. "I do not forget a promise, Mr. Smart. You may remember that I agreed to fetch a man from Munchen to -look over your fine old ,frescoes and to give you an estimate. Well, he is here, the very best man in Europe." "I am sure I fm greatly indebted to you, Count," I said, "but after thinking it over I've—" "Don't say that you have already engaged some one to do the work," he cried in terror. "My dear fellow, don't tell me that! You are certain to make a dreadful mistake if you listen to any one but Schwartzmuller. He is the last word in restorations. He is.the best bet, :es you would say in New York. Any one else will make a botch of the work. You will curse the day you—" I checked him. "I have virtually decided to let the whole matter go over until next spring. However, I shall be happy to have Mr. Schwartz- muller's opinion. We may be able to plan ahead." A look of disappointment flitted across his face. The suggestion of hard old age crept into his features for a second and then disappeared. "Delays are dangerous," he said. "My judgment is that those gorgeous paintings will disintegrate more dur- ing the coming winter than in all the years gone by. They are at the crit- ical stage. If not preserved now,— well, I cannot bear to think of the consequences. Ah, here is Herr Schwartzmuller." Just inside the door, we came upon a pompous yet servile German who could not by any means have been mistaken for anything but the last word in restoration. I have never seen any one in my life whose ap- pearance suggested a more complete state of rehabilitation. His frock 'coat was new, it had the unfailing smell of new wool freshly dyed; his shoes were painfully new; his gloves were new; his silk hat was resplend- ently new; his fat jowl was shaved to a luminous pink; his gorgeous moustache was twisted up at the ends to such a degree that when he smiled the points wavered in front of his eyes causing him to blink with astonishment. He was undeniably dressed up for the occasion. My critical eye, however, discovered a pair of well-worn striped trousers badly stained, slightly frayed at the bottom and inclined to bag outward at the knee. Perhaps I should have said that he was dressed up from the knee. "This is the great Herr Schwartz- muller, of the Imperial galleries in Munchen," said the Count'introduc- ing us. The stranger bowed very profound- ly and at the same time extracted a business card from the tail pocket.' of his coat. This he delivered to me with a smile which seemed to invite me to participate in a great and serious secret; the secret of irre- proachable standing as an art expert and connoisseur. T confess to a mis- taken impression concerning him up; to the moment he handed me his I clumsy business card. My suspicions had set him clown as a confederate of Count Tarnowsy. a spy, a secret, agent or whatever you choose to con - eider one who is employed in further- i ing a secret purpeve. But the busi- ness card removed my doubts and misgivings. it stamped him for what • he really was: there is no mistaking a German who hands you his business card. He destroys all possible chance for discussion. In three langusges the card an- nounced that he was "August Seh- , wartzmuller, of the imperial galleries, Munchen, Zumne fi Schwartzmuller, proprietors. Restorations a special- ty." There was much more, hut I did not have time to read all of it. Moreover, the card was a trifle soiled, sell Wo foir.lt,Ium y. !!sable toto reel the gentit mag e name, of should. say not« more than : one , hundred and fifty thousand nnikiroa pe,ha len," said the, expert, rolling his calculative eye upward . =Lava, filar sing It along the vast dome of the hail ee if to figure it out in yards and inches. The Count was watching me with` aneager light in his eyes, He look- ed away as I shot a quick glance et his face. The whole matter became as clear as day to me. He was to re- ceive a handsome commission if the contract was awarded. No doubt his share would be at least half of the amount stipulated. I had reason to believe that the work could be per- formed at a profit for less than half the figure mentioned by the German. "Nearly forty thousand dollars, in otheer words," said I reflectively. "They are worth ten times that a- mount, sir," said the expert, gravely. I smiled skeptically. The Count took instant alarm. He realized that I was not such a fool as I looked, per- haps. "Hohendahl was once offered two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Mr. Smart," he said. "Why didn't he aceept it?" I asked bluntly. "He sold the whole place to me, contents included, for less than half that amount." "It was years ago, before he was in such dire straits," he explained quickly. A terrrible suspicion entered my head. I felt myself turn cold. If the frescoes were genuine they were worth all that Schwartzmuller de- clared; that being the case why should Hohendahl have left them come to me for practically nothing when there were 'dozens of collectors who would have paid him the full' price? I swallowed hard, but man- aged to control myvoice. g "As a matter of fact, Count Tarn- owsy," I said, resorting to unworthy means, "I have every reason. to be- lieve that Hohendahl sold the origin- als sometime ago, and had them re- placed on the ceilings by clever imi- tations. They are not worth the canvas they are painted on. He started. I intercepted the swift look of apprehension that passed from him to the stolid Schwartzmul- ler, whose face turned a shade red- der. "Impossible!" cried Ta"'nowsy sharply. "By no means impossible," I said calmly, now sure of my ground. "To be perfect frank with you, I've known from the beginning that they are fakes. Your friend, Count Ho- hendahl, is nobler than you give him credit for being. He confessed to me at the time our transaction took place that the frescoes were very re- cent reproductions. The originals, I think, are in London or New Cork." I saw guilt in the face of Herr Schwartzmuller, 4 His moustaches drooped with the corners of his mouth; he did not seem to be filling out the frock coat quite so complete- ly as when I first beheld him. A shrewd suspicion impelled me to take chances on a direct accusation. I looked straight into the Germans eyes and said: "Now that I come to think of it, I am sure he mention- ed the name of Schwartzmuller in connection with the—" "It is not true! It is not true!" roared the expert, without waiting for me to finish. "He lied to you, we —the great firm of Zumpe and Schwartzmuller—we could not be tempted with millions to do such a thing." I went a step farther in my deduc- tions. Somehow I had grasped the truth: this pair deliberately hoped to swindle me out of forty thousand dollars. They knew the frescoes were imitations and yet they were urging me to spend a huge sum of money in restoring canvases that had been purposely made to look old and flimsy in order to deceive a more cautious purchaser than I. But, as I say, I went a step farther and de- liberately accused Count Tarnowsy. "Moreover, Count Tarnowsy, you are fully aware of all this." "My dear fellow,—" "I'll not waste words. You are a damned scoundrel!" He measured the distance with his eye and then sprang swiftly forward, striking blindly atmy face. I knocked him down! Schwartzmuller was near the door, looking over his shoulder as he felt for the great brass knob. "Mein Gott!" he bellowed. "Stop!" I shouted. "Come back here and take this fellow away with you!" Tarnowsy was sitting up, looking about him in a dazed, bewildered manner. Atthat moment, Poopendyke came running down the stairs, attracted by the loud voices. He was followed closely by three or four wide-eyed glaziers who were working on the second floor. "In the name of heaven, sir!" "I've bruised my knuckles horribly," was all that I said. I seemed to be in a sort of a daze myself. I had never knocked a man down before in my life. it was an amazingly easy thing to do. I could hardly believe that I had done it Tarnnwsy struggled to his feet and faced me, quivering with rage. I was dumbfounded to see that he was not covered with blood. Rut he was of a light, yellowish green. I could scarcely believe my eyes. "You shall pay for this!" he cried. The tears rushed to his eyes. "Coward. Beast! To strike a defenceless man!" His hand went swiftly to his breast paclivt Y Ibtirt @ ask. 461, will like my father. He loves meIM miniimmummensimmummommemammemiliollit pocket, and an instant later a small revolver flashed into view. It was then that I did another strange and incomprehensible thing. With the utmost coolness I stepped forward and wrested it from his hand. I say strange and incomprehensible for the reason that he was pointing it di- rectly at my breast and yet I had not the slightest sensation of fear. He could have shot me like a dog. I never even thought of that. "None of that!" I cried sharply. "Now, will you be good enough to get out of this house—and stay out." "My seconds will call on you—" "And they will receive just what you have received. If you or any of your friends presume to trespass on the privacy of these grounds of mine, I'll kick the whole lot of you into the Danube. Hawkes! Either show or lead Count; Tarnowsy to the gates. As for you, Mr. Schwartzmuller, I shall expose—" But the last word in restorations had departed. CHAPTER XIV I Am Forced Into Being A Hero. My humblest apologies, dear reader, if I have led you to suspect that 1 want to be looked upon as a hero. Far from patting myself on the back or holding my chin a' little higher be- cause of the set-to in my baronial halls, I confess to a feeling of shame. In my study, where the efficient Blatchford put arnica and bandages on my swollen knuckles, I solemnly declared in the presence, of those who attended the clinic—(my entire es- tablishment was there to see that I had the proper attention and to tell me how happy they were that it wasn't any worse)—I say, I declared to all of them that I was an un- mitigated fool "fid undeserving of the slightest mead of praise. They insisted upon making a hero of me, and might have succeeded, had not the incomparable Britton made the discovery that the Count's re- volver was not loaded! Still, they they vociferated, I could not have known that at the time of the en- counter, nor was it at all likely that the Count knew it himself. I confess to an inward and shame- less glory, however, in the realiza- tion that I had been able to punch the head of the man who had lived with a and abused that lovely creature up'e stairs. He had struck her on mese'. than one occasion, I had it from hog own lips. Far worse than that, he' had kissed her! But of coilrae D., not knocked him down ,for that. did it because it was simpler than be- ing knocked down myself. The worst feature of the whole un- happy business was the effect it was likely to have upon my commonly pacific nature. Heretofore I. had avoidedphysical encounters not be- cause b cause I was afraid of the result, but because I hate brutal, unscientific manifestations of strength. Now, to my surprise, I found that it was a ridiculously easy matter to knock a man down and end the squabble in short order, thereby escaping a great deal in the shape of disgusting re- criminations, and coming off victor- ious with nothing more vital in the way of wounds than a couple of bruised knuckles. (No doubt, with psbactice, one could even avoid having his knuckles barked.) Was it not probable, therefore,, that my habitual tendency to turn a- way wrath with a soft answer might Buffet a more or less sanguinary shock? Now that I had found out how simple it was, would I not be satisfied to let my good right hand settle disputes for me—with uniform certaigty and despatch? Heaven is my witness that I have no desire to be regarded as a bruiser. I hope that it may never fall to my lot ha again knock a man down. But if it should be necessary, I also wills to record the hope that the man may be a husband who has mistreated his wife. In the course of Blatchford's min- istrations I was regaled with eloqu- ent descriptions of the manner in which my late adversary took his de- parture from the castle. He went forth vowing vengeance, calling down upon my head all the maledictions he could lay his tongue to, and darkly threatening to have me driven out of the country. I was not to expect a call from his seconds. He would not submit his friends to the indignities they were sure to encounter at the hands of a barbarian of my type. But, just the same, I would hear from him. I would regret the day, etc., etc. (Continued next week.) Clothes a Good Color To have Clothes perfectly clean- sed and good color, the Soap must remove all the visible and invisible impurities. SURPRISE will do this thoroughly. tea it