Chapter SIXTEEN: "the End"

Triggy Drew's eyes shone with triumphant fire as he turned and faced the group gathered in the sitting room.

He adjusted his coat lapels, clicked his heels and smiled politely. His hand strayed up to his short-cropped mustache which was still neat and well-trimmed despite the labors of the day.

"Although the case is practically closed," he said with concern, "there are features which are not entirely cleared up--even in my mind. Perhaps we have a little time," he added, glancing at his watch. "Let's go into the other room--away from these memories--and have a cup of tea, if Miss Stockbridge will be so kind as to order some."

Loris glanced at Nichols. She nodded as she turned toward Drew. He moved over to the rug which covered Cuthbert Morphy's body. He stooped and adjusted this. He rose and dimmed the lights by snapping off two of the switches and turning a bulb in its socket. He hesitated as he glanced at the telephone wires which Delaney had cut.

"Central will wonder what has happened," he said half aloud. "The connections leading to this house have given them a lot of trouble in the last few hours. I suppose they haven't another trouble-man like this one, though?" Drew pointed toward the shadowed rug which gleamed with silk and rare woven designs.

Loris raised her hand and grasped the portieres. She shuddered slightly. She allowed her eyes to wander over the room as if for a last fleeting glance. They locked with the detective's own. She smiled with a plaintive droop to her mouth.

"I'll order the tea," she said invitingly. "Will you come in?"

Drew bowed and followed her through the portieres. Delaney already stood by the door which led to the maid's room. Harry Nichols had picked up a small book and was impatiently examining its pages. The soldier turned and eyed the detective.

"We'll sit down?" he asked, laying the book on a cushion. "I'm a bit curious to know how you worked out a number of things. I think that Miss Stockbridge is, too."

"I'd like to be a detective!" exclaimed Loris, gliding across the room and tapping with her knuckles on the door. "Wouldn't you, Mr. Delaney?" she added naively.

Delaney chuckled. "I would, Miss," he said with candor. "I'm not a regular. I'm only a volunteer. Mr. Drew has me along to do the heavy work. He says what I can't lift I can drag."

Loris smiled as the maid answered by opening the door to a crack. "Tea for four," she said. "Pekoe and tea biscuits--unless----"

She turned and widened her eyes prettily. "Would you have anything else?" she asked Drew.

"Strong tea!" exclaimed the detective. "I'll take 'hops,' as we call it. Make it very strong and then we'll settle some of these questions. My head is none too clear. I've been under a strain. I'm frank to admit that!"

The tea arrived within ten minutes. Drew had prevented Delaney from 'phoning for the coroner or to Fosdick. "Some matters to clear up," he whispered suggestively. "We'll leave this place with the case entirely completed."

Nichols arranged two chairs about a tiny teak-wood table. He had set this table within the bay of an alcove. The space was small, with Delaney's big feet very much in the way.

Drew poised his cup and glanced from Loris to Nichols. Their heads were very close together. The blue-black luster of the girl's hair was a perfect contrast to the officer's blond pompadour which was slightly disarranged. The light from above haloed with the soft fire of frosted glass and cut prisms.

The detective upended the cup, drank deeply, then passed it over to Delaney. "Another, please," he said, watching the operative struggling with a saucer which was far too fragile for his thick fingers. "One more cup," he added. "No sugar."

Loris leaned from the cushion at the small of her back and glanced toward the portieres with thought-laden eyes. "Poor misguided fellow," she said softly. "I feel uneasy, Mr. Drew. Somehow or other I feel that we were partly responsible for his death. I wish it hadn't happened."

"I'll agree with you. We must forget more than we remember in this world. Our time is short. The coroner and the Central Office squad will have to be notified. I don't doubt that Fosdick will be surprised at the turn in the case. He has some of your servants locked up, you know!"

Loris pressed closer to Nichols. "I wish that body wasn't in there," she whispered. "Suppose he had other confederates who would break in?"

"He worked alone," assured Drew, finishing the second cup and setting it down. "I found no evidence of another crook. He worked single-handed and single-minded. He made one mistake. Morphy was a bungler. A bungler is a man who lets his artistic temperament get the better of him. Had he allowed Cuthbert to slay both the--Mr. Stockbridge and yourself over the 'phone, he would never have solved the case. It was the telephoning from Sing Sing that opened up the entire matter."

"The inevitable slip!" exclaimed Nichols.

"Yes," said Drew. "They all make it. I could tell you of a thousand instances. But back of the inevitable slip, as you call it, is something deeper. It has not often been mentioned in dealing with criminals."

"What is it?" asked Loris.

"Ego! Criminal ego! Most transgressors would go to the electric chair if the newspapers would write enough about them."

Loris raised her brows. "Is that the reason," she asked, "why Morphy telephoned before he killed poor father?"

"Exactly!" declared the detective. "Ego explains much that we call revenge. Now," he added, glancing about and at a tiny clock on a cabinet. "Now the questions from everybody! Make them short. Mr. Delaney and I will leave in ten minutes."

Nichols glanced at Loris. "You first," he said.

"I've just one or two, Mr. Drew," she said.

"What are they?"

"Why did that poor dead man spare my life when he called me up the first time? He could have killed me then."

"I explained that. It wasn't _his_ vendetta."

"Vendetta?"

"That is what this case is. An almost successful attempt to wipe out, or I should say obliterate, the Stockbridge Family--root and branch. Morphy had nursed the thing for over a year. He had soured up there in prison. His mind became abnormal. He conceived an abnormal revenge. Also a personal one. He had every reason to believe that he would never be discovered."

"Then, Mr. Drew, he would have called me up on the phone later and done what he did--to father? He would have told me who he was over the telephone, and--and----"

"Yes, Miss Stockbridge. Yes, be calm, though. He is beyond the pale now. You will never hear from him again. Be assured of that!"

Drew leaned in his chair and glanced at Delaney. The big operative fidgeted in his seat, squirmed, reached for the tea-pot, then drew back his hand and started drumming the table with his fingers.

Nichols disengaged his arm from behind Loris and squared his shoulders. He moved forward. "I'm going to ask a question for Miss Stockbridge," he said. "Did you ever suspect her?"

"Never!" declared Drew.

"Or me?"

The detective hesitated before he answered. His smile cleared the air as he said. "Once--for about an hour. That was when I found out that you were partly German. I got over it, though."

"So did I," declared Nichols. "I got over the German part in no time. I enlisted!"

"That's a good answer! The best one I know!"

Delaney turned to his chief. He drew in his legs. "There's a question I'd like to ask," he said.

"What is it?"

"That magpie?"

Drew eyed Loris. "It's her bird now," he said. "She may not want it dragged back here again. I shouldn't think she would."

"I don't!" exclaimed Loris. "I wish that you would explain how you followed the clew, though. It talks so seldom, and then when it does talk it says such nonsense it's a perfect enigma."

"That bird," said Drew, "was the fine turning point of the case. Before it was brought into the office, downtown, I had no clew to start from. There was no indication to show from whence the blow had fallen. Your father was slain for a motive. He was talking to Morphy when he died. Cuthbert had connected the two men."

"Through the two booths?" asked Loris.

"Yes. Through the booths at Grand Central. Their conversation was probably a brief one. Morphy undoubtedly gloated a minute or two, then told Mr. Stockbridge that his time had come on this earth. Naturally Mr. Stockbridge asked who was talking. Morphy answered by stating who he was, and also that he was at Sing Sing. Mr. Stockbridge repeated this statement aloud. He probably said, 'What, Sing Sing?' or 'Ah, Ossining!' or words to that effect. The bird heard it and remembered it."

"How strange!" exclaimed Nichols.

"Not at all," said Drew, leaning forward. "It was just like a magpie to pick out the one salient part of a conversation and repeat it. The couplet 'Sing Sing' was one it had never heard. It is so striking to even a bird. It probably came with such emphasis, there was no forgetting it!"

The group facing the detective was silent for a long minute. Delaney moved uneasily as Nichols toyed with his cup. Loris breathed in suppressed wonder at the tiny clew which had overthrown the best laid plans on the part of Morphy and his confederate. It was like an echo of a dead voice coming back to confront a murderer. She shivered as she widened her eyes and stared at Drew.

"There's another question," she said. "How did the trouble-man get into this house in the first place, Mr. Drew?"

"I was responsible. He forced my hand!"

"How?"

"By a clever subterfuge. He disconnected the library telephone wires at the junction-box in the alley. He knew that sooner or later Mr. Stockbridge would try to use the 'phone. He couldn't get a connection, or I couldn't. It was the time I tried to 'phone and then notified Gramercy Hill Exchange through another 'phone. He was listening in and consequently caught the gist of my orders to Harrigan. He hurried to Gramercy Hill Exchange and there met Frisby, another trouble-man, starting out to investigate my complaint. He took Frisby's place, hurried over and closed the library connection and then came into the house, stating that we had sent for him."

"Clever," said Nichols. "That was clever, wasn't it?"

"Remarkably so!" exclaimed Drew. "It was a case of making the detective on the premises act as a tool. It was like a safeblower asking a night watchman to move a safe out on a truck. I never suspected that fellow at all. I hardly looked at him when he was testing the connections in the library. I even heard him rattling a pair of pliers over the binding posts on the receiver. That was the time he took the old one off and put on the loaded pistol. It was done very quickly."

The detective paused and glanced at his watch. "We must go," he said, staring at Loris with soft interest. "I'm afraid we're keeping you from your sleep."

"No. I want to ask you another question," she said eagerly. "I'm still in doubt about the slot booths at Grand Central. Why were they used?"

"As a throw off! That is what the English would call shunting. Electricians use the same word. It means diverting a current or a connection. Cuthbert did this so that his trail would be harder to check up. He thought of almost everything."

"He missed his vocation!" interjected Nichols.

"And misused his talents," added Loris. "Think of being clever enough to do all of those things, and stoop to murder. He paid ten times over. He must have been under that man Morphy's power. So many men were. I heard father say that when Morphy was arrested. He said Morphy was the most dangerous man in the world. That he would cause trouble sooner or later."

Drew rose and nodded. "He did that!" he exclaimed with conviction. "He came very close to getting away with it. But for the magpie and the fact that he 'phoned from the prison at the same time your father was murdered, there would have been no clew. Cuthbert would have entered this house after you were slain, and removed the receiver. That would have thrown the case into one of the unsolved mysteries. Electricity is a dangerous tool in the hands of clever crooks."

"It leaves no trace!" said Delaney, rising and standing by his chief. "It isn't made out of anything except little shakes in the wire or something like that."

Drew smiled good-naturedly. "It's a mystery to most people," he said, turning toward the windows and listening. "It's a bigger mystery to a woman than to a man," he added. "It's a good agent if properly used and kept within bounds. It brings back life as well as takes it. It creates and also destroys. No one knows what it is. All that we do know about it is its action on material substances--the power to transform mechanical energy into vibrations and then back again into mechanical energy."

"Like a voice on a wire?" asked Loris.

"Yes, Miss Stockbridge. The mechanical vibration of a diaphragm in a telephone transmitter is changed to electrical vibrations, passes along a wire and changes back to the same thing we had at the beginning. Cuthbert took advantage of this fact. All that was sent into the library was Morphy's voice on the wire. The wire left no trace. The voice actuated the diaphragm and at the same time the fine heating coil at the cap on the cartridge. The energy of the voice was sufficient to raise the temperature of the coil. This raise in temperature flashed some compound set in the wire. The flash started the fulminate of mercury in the cap. The cap exploded the smokeless powder. It was a series of steps each a little higher than the one below it."

"Was there any other way of doing the same thing?" Nichols inquired, as he rose lankily and stood over Loris.

"Yes!" declared Drew. "I can look back over what I found in the technical books about electricity and telephony and see several other ways for Cuthbert to accomplish the same result. The electrical pistol did not necessarily have to be actuated by the human voice."

"How terrible!" Loris whispered, with her brow puckering. "Perhaps others will use the same idea to slay their enemies."

"We'll keep it a close secret," the detective said. "It rests with us four, now. Outside of us, there is only Morphy who knows."

"How else could the pistol be discharged?"

"Two other ways that I see, Miss Stockbridge. It would be rather easy to arrange a little magnetic trigger in the receiver. This trigger could be actuated by an excess of current--say the connecting of a hundred and ten volt lighting circuit on the line. It might burn out the magnet wiring, but it would also release the trigger and fire the cartridge."

"That's like a door-catch?"

"Yes," said Drew. "Like a door-catch operated by a magnet or like the firing pin of a large cannon. They're not all operated by lanyards. Some work with push-buttons."

Nichols passed his hand over his brow. "I know another way," he said, glancing down at Loris. "There is a way which is far cleverer than Cuthbert thought of. It could be done by a tuning-fork or reed."

"Certainly!" exclaimed Drew. "I never thought of that. A reed attuned to a certain voice could be adapted to trip a trigger. Then the loaded receiver could be set so that one of your friends who had a peculiar voice, either high or low, would slay you. Rather terrifying revenge, that!"

"Beyond the pale!" said Nichols. "It's too bad this man Cuthbert didn't exercise one-tenth of his genius in perfecting war inventions. He'd have helped us a lot."

Drew nodded and strode to the curtains at a side window. He peered out, rubbed the frosted panes, and pressed his nose against the glass.

"Stopped snowing!" he exclaimed, coming back and clasping Delaney's arm. "You hurry downstairs and telephone Fosdick that we are waiting for him. Tell him to notify the coroner that there's a subject here which will interest him. We'll not explain everything to either the coroner or Fosdick. No one save us shall know the secret of the receiver."

"Delaney," said Nichols, as the big operative started through the portieres. "Mr. Delaney."

"Yes!" boomed back through the room.

"Ask the Commissioner if he will release Miss Stockbridge's servants. It was an outrage."

"That's right!" exclaimed Drew, striding to the portieres. "Tell him I said so, Delaney. Tell him just what you think. Give it to him strong! He bungled and he don't deserve a bit of sympathy."

"Mr. Drew?"

The detective wheeled on one heel and glanced back at Loris, who had risen and was standing with her arm linked within Nichols'. "Mr. Drew," she repeated with slow insistence, "won't you have another cup of tea before you go?"

"That I will, Miss Stockbridge. We three shall drink to the end of the case. Have you asked all the questions you want to? I want to forget this night as soon as possible. You were too close to death to suit me."

"I don't think of any more questions," said Loris, disengaging her arm and gliding across the room. "We'll get the tea. There is one matter. I want to pay you for your splendid services."

"Ah!" exclaimed Drew. "Ah, Miss Stockbridge, they were far from being splendid. I lost my reputation in the first instance. I should never have allowed your father to remain alone in the library. That was very short-sighted on my part."

"You couldn't think of everything."

"I underestimated the gravity of the situation."

"Perhaps father didn't explain how dangerous his enemies really were."

"No, I don't think it was that, exactly. I had been reading so many accounts of German spies that I connected this case with one of them. I took precautions against anything that a German might think of. I didn't figure on super-brains of the criminal order. Cuthbert Morphy had them!"

The maid appeared with the tray and hot water. Drew took the cup from Loris with a bow. He allowed the tea to cool as he glanced at the two lovers. They had grown closer together over the time of the investigation. Nichols had that poise which is given to well-trained army men. He never said too much. This was a trait which pleased the detective immensely. It spoke volumes for Loris and her judgment in placing her trust in him.

"I actually hate to leave you people," Drew said, finishing the cup. "But I must be on my way."

Loris arched her dark brows. Her mouth parted into a soft smile. Her eyes glistened with moisture. "Harry is going, too," she said, glancing from Drew to Nichols. "He has to go! I'll sleep upstairs in mother's old room to-night. The maid can watch. Perhaps the butler will be back."

"He'll be back!" ejaculated the detective, adjusting his coat collar and stroking his mustache. "I'll see to that if I have to go over Fosdick's thick head. You can expect all of your servants within an hour."

Heavy footfalls on the rugs outside the suite announced Delaney. He came through the portieres rubbing his hands in the manner of a man who was well-satisfied with his errand.

"I got them!" he boomed, glancing from Drew to Nichols and then letting his eyes shine on Loris. "I got Fosdick, first. I told him what I thought of him, too. I don't like him. Never did! He said he'd be right up and see about things. He can see!" The big operative swung toward his chief.

"How about the coroner?" asked Drew.

"He's coming as fast as his hurry-up wagon will let him. I told him there was another--well, you know what I told him, Chief?"

The detective lifted his lowered brows. "Yes! Yes!" he said hastily, after a keen glance at Loris. "Yes. You did right. Now, get into the other room and gather up all of the tools and plaster-casts and every scrap of our own evidence. Put them in the trouble-man's satchel. Set the satchel outside the door to the hall. Then wait for me. I'll be but a minute."

Delaney paused. "There's one thing," he said in a half stammer----"One thing, Chief, that's been troubling me while I was 'phoning to the coroner and to Fosdick."

"What is it?"

"If I can have that magpie? I'm going to give it to my wife--Mary--if I can. There's no bird in the house."

Drew turned toward Loris who had drawn Nichols to a window.

"Can he have it, Miss Stockbridge?" he asked.

"Certainly!"

"Thanks," throated the operative, passing through the portieres with renewed energy. "Thanks," he added under his breath as he started picking up the plaster casts and tools. "That's how we caught 'Cutbert,' and I'll nurse the bird like a Grand Opera singer."

Loris glided from out the curtains and crossed the room. She stood a moment under a cone of soft light which reflected downward and brought out every detail of her gown and girlish figure. She turned and smiled widely at Drew who stood by the portieres.

"I've almost forgotten something," she said, drawing out a chair and sitting down with a graceful sweep of her skirt. "I've forgotten that you are tired and that you have worked hard."

"Not at all," said Drew.

"Yes, you are tired and you have worked very hard. Harry will bear me out in that. He was just saying that you would make a good major of overseas forces. Why don't you join the army?"

Drew reached into his right hand trouser pocket. He brought his hand out with a small gold badge between his fingers. "I've already joined the army," he said. "This is a Secret Service badge. Don't you know that much work can be done over on this side? A burnt warehouse, for instance, is equal to a victory for the Kaiser. My agency is almost exclusively devoted to Government work. We never mention it, though."

"I see," said Loris, reaching into a pigeonhole and drawing out a small yellow check-book. "I'm glad," she added, picking up a mother-of-pearl penholder and inspecting the pen-point. "I rather thought you would do your share. I think everybody should to the limit of their pocketbook and ability. Harry is."

Drew bowed slightly. "That's right, stick by Harry," he said to himself. "She's a sticker and then some," he added, frowning toward the check-book and the poised pen.

"Mr. Drew?"

The detective took one step in her direction. He waited then.

"Mr. Drew, how much money do I owe you? I'll pay you out of my account until the estate is settled."

The detective smiled broadly. "Nothing," he said, toying with his watch chain. "I don't think you owe me anything in this case."

"Oh, but I do!"

"I don't think so. Your father retained me. He was--was slain through my own carelessness. I think I owe you something."

"I can't let it remain that way." Loris turned and widened her eyes. A tiny pout sweetened her mouth. Nichols came across the rugs and stood by her side. He turned to Drew.

"That wouldn't be fair," he said. "You certainly earned your fee in this case. Why, you look five years older than when you came up into my rooms with that little pistol!"

Drew touched his mustache. He closed his lips. Fatigue swept over him as he said huskily:

"I've aged, yes. Well, I guess I have. The responsibility was more than I expected."

"How much?" asked Loris, opening the check-book.

Drew raised his eyes to the ceiling. A faint smile brightened his olive skin and brought out the fullness of his cheeks.

"Five thousand dollars," he said, without glancing at Loris.

She dipped the pen into the ink well, leaned her elbow on the leaf of the writing desk and hastily scratched a check with angular writing which had certainly been cultivated in a select boarding school. She turned, waved the check in the air, then rose and advanced toward the detective, who had not lowered his eyes.

"Thank you," she said, holding out the oblong of tinted paper. "I want to thank you."

Nichols stared at the detective. The soldier's eyes were like bayonets beneath a parapet. He had thought the figure rather high. Loris had no one to advise her save himself and the presence of Drew had tied his tongue.

"I want to thank you," repeated Loris.

Drew lowered his eyes and reached for the check. He glanced at it, started folding two edges, then smiled brightly as he crossed the room, picked up the mother-of-pearl penholder and dipped it into the ink.

"I'll endorse it," he said, flattening out the check with his palm. "I'll endorse it so that it can be transferred."

"To whom?" asked Loris.

"Why, to where it belongs. Do you think that I could take it? It's too much in the first place. In the second place I'm going to do my full bit from now on. What do you say, if we endorse this over to the American Red Cross? It'll buy beds and bandages and it'll help out all around!"

Loris lifted her eyes beneath her down dropping lashes. She smiled with tiny puckerings at the corners of her mouth. The glance was so archly sweet that Drew felt it was more than a reward. He caught her mood and hastily dashed off his signature across the back of the check.

"You present it to them," he said. "Take it with my compliments to the treasurer of your own division. I'll venture they will not question the signature."

Nichols' hand crept out. It clasped over Drew's fingers in a soldier's grip. The two men faced each other. Drew reached up his left arm and patted the captain on the shoulder. "Two bars," he said. "I hope to see stars there," he added sincerely. "Stars, when you come back from the conquest of Berlin."

"They'll be there!" declared Loris with flashing eyes. "Harry will get them!"

Delaney peered through the portieres despite his instructions to the contrary.

"All set, Chief," he said. "I hear Fosdick downstairs."

"Coming," said Drew, as he turned away from Loris and Nichols.

The two detectives paused in the center of the room. The mound under the splendid rug held their eyes for a fleeting moment. The ends of the telephone wires lay across the hardwood floor. They glanced at these.

"No trace!" said Drew. "We needn't tell Fosdick much. Come on!"

Delaney held out the detective's coat and hat. Drew thrust his arms into his silk-lined sleeves, pulled the hat down over his eyes and swung as the big operative turned his shoulder.

"Look," whispered Delaney.

Loris Stockbridge and her lover stood under the glow from the soft clusters of the inner room of the suite. The captain held his peaked cap in his right hand. He also was departing.

"Turtle-doves," Delaney breathed with almost pride.

"Ah!" said Drew. "Ah, my friend, you must remember that we were once that way ourselves. But now--but now, Delaney--there is a thing which is sweeter than love's young dream. It is a tired man's sleep. I think I have earned mine to-night!"

THE END

ZANE GREY'S NOVELS

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THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS

A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes the center of frontier warfare. Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is captured by bandits. A surprising climax brings the story to a delightful close.

THE RAINBOW TRAIL

The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the great western uplands--until at last love and faith awake.

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The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends with the finding of the gold which two prospectors had willed to the girl who is the story's heroine.

RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE

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THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN

This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones, known as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert and of a hunt in "that wonderful country of deep canons and giant pines."

THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT

A lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a young New Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the girl shall become the second wife of one of the Mormons--Well, that's the problem of this great story.

THE SHORT STOP

The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame and fortune as a professional ball player. His hard knocks at the start are followed by such success as clean sportsmanship, courage and honesty ought to win.

BETTY ZANE

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THE LONE STAR RANGER

After killing a man in self defense, Buck Duane becomes an outlaw along the Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he finds a young girl held prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her, brings down upon himself the wrath of her captors and henceforth is hunted on one side by honest men, on the other by outlaws.

THE BORDER LEGION

Joan Randle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawless Western mining camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she loved him--she followed him out. On her way, she is captured by a bandit band, and trouble begins when she shoots Kells, the leader--and nurses him to health again. Here enters another romance--when Joan, disguised as an outlaw, observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A gold strike, a thrilling robbery--gambling and gun play carry you along breathlessly.

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SATURDAY'S CHILD. Frontispiece by F. Graham Cootes.

Out on the Pacific coast a normal girl, obscure and lovely, makes a quest for happiness. She passes through three stages--poverty, wealth and service--and works out a creditable salvation.

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The story of a sensible woman who keeps within her means, refuses to be swamped by social engagements, lives a normal human life of varied interests, and has her own romance.

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How Julia Page, reared in rather unpromising surroundings, lifted herself through sheer determination to a higher plane of life.

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"K." Illustrated.

K. LeMoyne, famous surgeon, drops out of the world that has known him, and goes to live in a little town where beautiful Sidney Page lives. She is in training to become a nurse. The joys and troubles of their young love are told with that keen and sympathetic appreciation which has made the author famous.

THE MAN IN LOWER TEN. Illustrated by Howard Chandler Christy.

An absorbing detective story woven around the mysterious death of the "Man in Lower Ten." The strongest elements of Mrs. Rinehart's success are found in this book.

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A young artist, whose wife had recently divorced him, finds that his aunt is soon to visit him. The aunt, who contributes to the family income and who has never seen the wife, knows nothing of the domestic upheaval. How the young man met the situation is humorously and most entertainingly told.

THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE. Illus. by Lester Ralph.

The summer occupants of "Sunnyside" find the dead body of Arnold Armstrong, the son of the owner, on the circular staircase. Following the murder a bank failure is announced. Around these two events is woven a plot of absorbing interest.

THE STREET OF SEVEN STARS. Illustrated (Photo Play Edition.)

Harmony Wells, studying in Vienna to be a great violinist, suddenly realizes that her money is almost gone. She meets a young ambitious doctor who offers her chivalry and sympathy, and together with world-worn Dr. Anna and Jimmie, the waif, they share their love and slender means.

Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

R. M. BOWER'S NOVELS

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.

CHIP OF THE FLYING U. Wherein the love affairs of Chip and Della Whitman are charmingly and humorously told.

THE HAPPY FAMILY. A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys.

HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT. Describing a gay party of Easterners who exchange a cottage at Newport for a Montana ranch-house.

THE RANGE DWELLERS. Spirited action, a range feud beween two families, and a Romeo and Juliet courtship make this a bright, jolly story.

THE LURE OF THE DIM TRAILS. A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author among the cowboys.

THE LONESOME TRAIL. A little branch of sage brush and the recollection of a pair of large brown eyes upset "Weary" Davidson's plans.

THE LONG SHADOW. A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free outdoor life of a mountain ranch. It is a fine love story.

GOOD INDIAN. A stirring romance of life on an Idaho ranch.

FLYING U RANCH. Another delightful story about Chip and his pals.

THE FLYING U'S LAST STAND. An amusing account of Chip and the other boys opposing a party of school teachers.

THE UPHILL CLIMB. A story of a mountain ranch and of a man's hard fight on the uphill road to manliness.

THE PHANTOM HERD. The title of a moving-picture staged in New Mexico by the "Flying U" boys.

THE HERITAGE OF THE SIOUX. The "Flying U" boys stage a fake bank robbery for film purposes which precedes a real one for lust of gold.

THE GRINGOS. A story of love and adventure on a ranch in California.

STARR OF THE DESERT. A New Mexico ranch story of mystery and adventure.

THE LOOKOUT MAN. A Northern California story full of action, excitement and love.

Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

THE NOVELS OF WINSTON CHURCHILL

THE INSIDE OF THE CUP. Illustrated by Howard Giles.

The Reverend John Hodder is called to a fashionable church in a middle-western city. He knows little of modern problems and in his theology is as orthodox as the rich men who control his church could desire. But the facts of modern life are thrust upon him; an awakening follows and in the end he works out a solution.

A FAR COUNTRY. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer.

This novel is concerned with big problems of the day. As _The Inside of the Cup_ gets down to the essentials in its discussion of religion, so _A Far Country_ deals in a story that is intense and dramatic, with other vital issues confronting the twentieth century.

A MODERN CHRONICLE. Illustrated by J. H. Gardner Soper.

This, Mr. Churchill's first great presentation of the Eternal Feminine, is throughout a profound study of a fascinating young American woman. It is frankly a modern love story.

MR. CREWE'S CAREER. Illus. by A. I. Keller and Kinneys.

A new England state is under the political domination of a railway and Mr. Crewe, a millionaire, seizes a moment when the cause of the people is being espoused by an ardent young attorney, to further his own interest in a political way. The daughter of the railway president plays no small part in the situation.

THE CROSSING. Illustrated by S. Adamson and L. Baylis.

Describing the battle of Fort Moultrie, the blazing of the Kentucky wilderness, the expedition of Clark and his handful of followers in Illinois, the beginning of civilization along the Ohio and Mississippi, and the treasonable schemes against Washington.

CONISTON. Illustrated by Florence Scovel Shinn.

A deft blending of love and politics. A New Englander is the hero, a crude man who rose to political prominence by his own powers, and then surrendered all for the love of a woman.

THE CELEBRITY. An episode.

An inimitable bit of comedy describing an interchange of personalities between a celebrated author and a bicycle salesman. It is the purest, keenest fun--and is American to the core.

THE CRISIS. Illustrated with scenes from the Photo-Play.

A book that presents the great crisis in our national life with splendid power and with a sympathy, a sincerity, and a patriotism that are inspiring.

RICHARD CARVEL. Illustrated by Malcolm Frazer.

An historical novel which gives a real and vivid picture of Colonial times, and is good, clean, spirited reading in all its phases and interesting throughout.

Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

THE NOVELS OF GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.

GRAUSTARK. Illustrated with Scenes from the Play.

With the appearance of this novel, the author introduced a new type of story and won for himself a perpetual reading public. It is the story of love behind a throne in a new and strange country.

BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK. Illustrations by Harrison Fisher.

This is a sequel to "Graustark." A bewitching American girl visits the little principality and there has a romantic love affair.

PRINCE OF GRAUSTARK. Illustrations by A. I. Keller.

The Prince of Graustark is none other than the son of the heroine of "Graustark." Beverly's daughter, and an American multimillionaire with a brilliant and lovely daughter also figure in the story.

BREWSTER'S MILLIONS. Illustrated with Scenes from the Photo-Play.

A young man, required to spend one million dollars in one year, in order to inherit _seven_, accomplishes the task in this lively story.

COWARDICE COURT. Illus. by Harrison Fisher and decorations by Theodore Hapgood.

A romance of love and adventure, the plot forming around a social feud in the Adirondacks in which an English girl is tempted into being a traitor by a romantic young American.

THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND. Illustrated by A. I. Keller.

A story of modern New York, built around an ancient enmity, born of the scorn of the aristocrat for one of inferior birth.

WHAT'S-HIS-NAME. Illustrations by Harrison Fisher.

"What's-His-Name" is the husband of a beautiful and popular actress who is billboarded on Broadway under an assumed name. The very opposite manner in which these two live their lives brings a dramatic climax to the story.

Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction.

Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

SEWELL FORD'S STORIES

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.

SHORTY McCABE. Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.

A very humorous story. The hero, an independent and vigorous thinker, sees life, and tells about it in a very unconventional way.

SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY. Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.

Twenty skits, presenting people with their foibles. Sympathy with human nature and an abounding sense of humor are the requisites for "side-stepping with Shorty."

SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB. Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.

Shorty McCabe reappears with his figures of speech revamped right up to the minute. He aids in the right distribution of a "conscience fund," and gives joy to all concerned.

SHORTY McCABE'S ODD NUMBERS. Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.

These further chronicles of Shorty McCabe tell of his studio for physical culture, and of his experiences both on the East side and at swell yachting parties.

TORCHY. Illus. by Geo. Biehm and Jas. Montgomery Flagg.

A red-headed office boy, overflowing with wit and wisdom peculiar to the youths reared on the sidewalks of New York, tells the story of his experiences.

TRYING OUT TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln.

Torchy is just as deliriously funny in these stories as he was in the previous book.

ON WITH TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln.

Torchy falls desperately in love with "the only girl that ever was," but that young society woman's aunt tries to keep the young people apart, which brings about many hilariously funny situations.

TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln.

Torchy rises from the position of office boy to that of secretary for the Corrugated Iron Company. The story is full of humor and infectious American slang.

WILT THOU TORCHY. Illus. by F. Snapp and A. W. Brown.

Torchy goes on a treasure search expedition to the Florida West Coast, in company with a group of friends of the Corrugated Trust and with his friend's aunt, on which trip Torchy wins the aunt's permission to place an engagement ring on Vee's finger.

Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

BOOTH TARKINGTON'S NOVELS

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.

SEVENTEEN. Illustrated by Arthur William Brown.

No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal young people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and reminiscent of the time when the reader was Seventeen.

PENROD. Illustrated by Gordon Grant.

This is a picture of a boy's heart, full of the lovable, humorous, tragic things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a finished, exquisite work.

PENROD AND SAM. Illustrated by Worth Brehm.

Like "Penrod" and "Seventeen," this book contains some remarkable phases of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile prankishness that have ever been written.

THE TURMOIL. Illustrated by C. E. Chambers.

Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against his father's plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The love of a fine girl turns Bibb's life from failure to success.

THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA. Frontispiece.

A story of love and politics,--more especially a picture of a country editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in the love interest.

THE FLIRT. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood.

The "Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's engagement, drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, leads another to lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid and unpromising suitor, leaving the really worthy one to marry her sister.

Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction.

Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

THE NOVELS OF STEWART EDWARD WHITE

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.

THE BLAZED TRAIL. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.

A wholesome story with gleams of humor, telling of a young man who blazed his way to fortune through the heart of the Michigan pines.

THE CALL OF THE NORTH. Ills. with Scenes from the Play.

The story centers about a Hudson Bay trading post, known as "The Conjuror's House" (the original title of the book.)

THE RIVER MAN. Ills. by N. C. Wyeth and C. F. Underwood.

The story of a man's fight against a river and of a struggle between honesty and grit on the one side, and dishonesty and shrewdness on the other.

RULES OF THE GAME. Illustrated by Lejaren A. Hiller.

The romance of the son of "The Riverman." The young college hero goes into the lumber camp, is antagonized by "graft," and comes into the romance of his life.

GOLD. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.

The gold fever of '49 is pictured with vividness. A part of the story is laid in Panama, the route taken by the gold-seekers.

THE FOREST. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.

The book tells of the canoe trip of the author and his companion into the great woods. Much information about camping and outdoor life. A splendid treatise on woodcraft.

THE MOUNTAINS. Illustrated by Fernand Lungren.

An account of the adventures of a five months' camping trip in the Sierras of California. The author has followed a true sequence of events.

THE CABIN. Illustrated with photographs by the author.

A chronicle of the building of a cabin home in a forest-girdled meadow of the Sierras. Full of nature and woodcraft, and the shrewd philosophy of "California John."

THE GRAY DAWN. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.

This book tells of the period shortly after the first mad rush for gold in California. A young lawyer and his wife, initiated into the gay life of San Francisco, find their ways parted through his downward course, but succeeding events bring the "gray dawn of better things" for both of them.

Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction.

Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY GENE STRATTON-PORTER

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.

LADDIE. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer.

This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The story is told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family, but it is concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love affairs of older members of the family. Chief among them is that of Laddie, the older brother whom Little Sister adores, and the Princess, an English girl who has come to live in the neighborhood and about whose family there hangs a mystery. There is a wedding midway in the book and a double wedding at the close.

THE HARVESTER. Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs.

"The Harvester," David Langston, is a man of the woods and fields, who draws his living from the prodigal hand of Mother Nature herself. If the book had nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would be notable. But when the Girl comes to his "Medicine Woods," and the Harvester's whole being realizes that this is the highest point of life which has come to him--there begins a romance of the rarest idyllic quality.

FRECKLES. Decorations by E. Stetson Crawford.

Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to the charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "The Angel" are full of real sentiment.

A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. Illustrated by Wladyslaw T. Brenda.

The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, lovable type of the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage.

AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW. Illustrations in colors by Oliver Kemp.

The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. The story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love. The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and its pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all.

Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

JOHN FOX, JR'S. STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.

THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.

The "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the pine lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and when he finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but the _footprints of a girl._ And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, and the trail of these girlish footprints led the young engineer a madder chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine."

THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.

This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "Kingdom Come." It is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which often springs the flower of civilization.

"Chad." the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he came--he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery--a charming waif, by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in the mountains.

A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.

The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair of moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner's son, and the heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "The Blight." Two impetuous young Southerners fall under the spell of "The Blight's" charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in the love making of the mountaineers.

Included in this volume is "Hell fer-Sartain" and other stories, some of Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives.

Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction.

Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE BY WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE

HANDSOMELY BOUND IN CLOTH. ILLUSTRATED.

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.

MAVERICKS.

A tale of the western frontier, where the "rustler," whose depredations are so keenly resented by the early settlers of the range, abounds. One of the sweetest love stories ever told.

A TEXAS RANGER.

How a member of the most dauntless border police force carried law into the mesquit, saved the life of an innocent man after a series of thrilling adventures, followed a fugitive to Wyoming, and then passed through deadly peril to ultimate happiness.

WYOMING.

In this vivid story of the outdoor West the author has captured the breezy charm of "cattleland," and brings out the turbid life of the frontier with all its engaging dash and vigor.

RIDGWAY OF MONTANA.

The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where politics and mining industries are the religion of the country. The political contest, the love scene, and the fine character drawing give this story great strength and charm.

BUCKY O'CONNOR.

Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, replete with the dashing spirit of the border, told with dramatic dash and absorbing fascination of style and plot.

CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT.

A story of Arizona; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws; of a bitter feud between cattle-men and sheep-herders. The heroine is a most unusual woman and her love story reaches a culmination that is fittingly characteristic of the great free West.

BRAND BLOTTERS.

A story of the Cattle Range. This story brings out the turbid life of the frontier, with all its engaging dash and vigor, with a charming love interest running through its 320 pages.

Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

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