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{+17% ' ' ' ' ' 'FWH'FPF4+ :t CHAPTER III. The girl‘s cycs followed Gordon's hor- ror-stricken glance with a terrible calm- ness. "He is quite dead," she said. “You can see for yourself, if you wish. He was stabbed to the heart and died instantly. There is the knife. I drew it out because . . . . because I thought there might be hope . . . HOPE! Ah, heavenl hope ll” Gordon hardly heard this last excla- mation. He had hastily flung himself down by the body, and was feeling the cold bosom of the form at his feet, but even \vhile‘he did so, he knew there was no chance. He had seen too many dead not to recognize death in that stern rigidity. Quickly convinced, he yet gave _ a moment to an examination of the dead mans appearance. “Young, handsome, sensual, rich: stabbed to the heart from the front: one blow, but it was a fearful one.” That was his conclusion. “He died at once, you say 7” he asked, half turning to the girl, who stood watching him, motionless. “At once,” she said. "He just fell down as he is now. He never moved afterwards. " / “Who did it?” said Gordon. “Why did you let him escape? \Nhereds he?” The girl looked at him for a moment with the calmness of an unutterable de- spair in her lovely eyes. “I did it t" she said at last. hGordon started to his feet and faced er. ‘:Good God! you did it! Youlil" ‘Yes. If” and then, without a sign, her strength seemexi to give way, and she slipped unconscious to the ground. George darted to her assistance, but. he was too late to save her; and placing her head so that it was lower than the rest of her body, he stood helplessly watch- mg her. Then, pulling himself together, he made a movement to the door, to call for help; but he stopped half way. lie knew that help would mean discovery of the crime, the crowd, the police, the girl's instant arrestâ€"and yet she had sat there so calmly beside her victim. . . . Why had she sat there? Why not tied? Gordon dropped on his knees beside the beautiful, helpless figure, and looked lcng and intently at the pale face and half-closed violet eyes. ‘She did not do it] She couldn’t have done it t" he said at last. “Not that. she - is too beautiful: 1 am not such a fool as that, though, by jove! she is lovelyâ€"but :33ng she didn’t. And yet she says she He bent to look at her hands. Those delicate white fingers, those slim firm wrists, might have hidden in them the strength to have struck that fearful blow, but they told no tale; they made no confession. . “She is coming round," he thought. ‘Perhaps it would be better for her if she never recoveredâ€"better if she died there whcre she lies. It would be so if I thought she had done that infernal deed; for with all her beauty and help- lessness, it wouldn‘t be a moment be fore I called for the policel But I don’t think so. Why don‘t I?" he asked him- self, gazing round the room, and back again at the prostrate girl, who was poinmencing to move restlessly. “What the deuce have I noticed which makes me )0 sure ?" Gordon had relied so often on an in- )tinct which had never failed him, and had been so accustomed to inquireâ€"if E1: did inquira~â€"into the motives which ad impelled him, only after escaping from a predicament, that he often found himself entirely unable to explain from what source these motives had come. In this case he would have. been puz- zled to say exactly why his belief in this mysterious girl‘s innocence was so assured; yet he felt that given time to collect his impressions, he could put his finger on the facts to account for it. - The girl‘s eyes, which had opened wide. by now, passing his carclc.%ly, had lighted on the body of the dead man, and with a cry she rose to her feet, “Claude! Claude!" she cried pilcously, and with a spring she put. half a length of the room between herself and Gordon. “What do you want ‘3 “by do you look at me like that and say nothing!" she cried, wildly. “Ah, I am not strong enough to stand this! Why don't. you arrest me! Why don‘t you call for help and take me. away!" "You fainted. It is all right. You are better now,” said Gordon sooiliingly. “But arrest you? You will excuse me for reminding you that I am not a policeman or even a detective. And, by the way, that reminds me. I came here quite by accident. You droppedâ€"I sup- pose that it was you~this pin from tho window just now. I presume it. fell from your hair. i guessed where it came from. The doors were open and I came in. . “Yrs. 1 was looking out of the win-. dow,” she said wear-fly. “I meant to rnll’ the police. but I was llul brave enough. But . . . . then you know nothing of, this? You are not . . . if was an acrldenii that you came?" shc murmured. inking thr- pin which George held out to llcr, said. “and no one will see us. and fixing her dark cycs on his. “Auctdcnt entirely," said Gordon, @@@@@@@ l Or, A‘Great Mistake. ++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++ meeting her look with his keen glance. Then, hesilafing for a moment},â€" "Tell me that you did not do that,” he said a! last.‘ His tone and manner, his strong frank gaze, his air of power seemed to affect the girl: for a moment a pit-cons look trembled in her lovely eyes, and then she recovered herself with a sudden ef- fort. “I did it,“ sh said. “I must suffer for itâ€"I must suffer for itâ€"I must suffer for itl Oh, quick, quickl for God’s sake call for them, and have me taken away i” Gordon shook his head. “Perhaps l ought to,” he said, "but I'm not going to. There is some mys- tery here. I can‘t think you killed that poor wrelch there, and sat so calmly watching his body; and if you did, God help you, perhaps you had cause to. . . but that’s abs-urdi You did not do it. What are we to do 7" Her eyes had the hunted look of the stag pressed by hounds, and her lip trembled; it was evident that only by the greatest effort she had kept herself upright, but her determination, so ap- parent in every line of her rigid figure never wavered. “Since you came here by accident,” she said. “Since you were not brought here by this . . . this crime, you must go.” “And-you,” asked Gordon. “What of you I” “Don‘t think of me! Go, yourself, quickly. After all, there is perhaps dan- ger here for you, too. You would have to explain, and they might not . . . but ah, I cannot talk any more! Why trou- ble about me, sir? Leave me, I beg you. Ah, leave me, leave mcl Go! !” Her voice told Gprdon that she was on the. verge of breaking down; and he stood irresolutely, biting his moustache, and hunting vainly for inspiration. “I don‘t believe she killed that man,” he said to himself, “but. she swears she did. Either I am mad, or she is. If I leave her here someone will find her; if not before morning, at all events, then; and she‘ll stick to her story. Then Lord knows what will happen! If only I could get her awayâ€"give her time to think over it all in cold blood. If she really did it there‘s plenty of time to say so afterwards. But it‘s absurd! Look at her! She did not do it. All the same, if she sticks to her tale, who’s to say she did not? Give me time and I think I‘d prove it, but how to get time when she herself refuses to help me.” Gordon was still vainly racking his brains when a shriek from the girl, and the direction of her gaze, made him turn quickly to the body on the floor. A strange incident had come to his assis- tance. One of the arms of the corpse which had lain across its breast straight- encd itself suddenly and fell with a thud to its side. Possibly Gordon in his examination had placed it in a position opposed to the approaching rigor nioriis, possibly there may have bern some other cause which only a doctor could explain: the shock at least of the strange phenome- non had an immediate effect. Repeating her first cry of surprise and fright, the girl flew across the room and sank on her knees beside the murdered man. “Ali, he‘s not dead after all! Ah, Claude, dear; dear Claude! Thank God he‘s not ‘deadl Ah, sir, come! come quick! he’s not dead! he moved! he moved!" Gordon shook his head sadly. though at her wild cries he approached. At his gesture she shrickcd "No! no! don't. say it,“ she cried. again, “He moved! But noâ€"ali! no! It is useless! You are rightâ€"he is dcadâ€"deadâ€"ah, ah i” She was off into a fit of hystericsâ€" wild laughter and wilder weepingâ€"hut Gordon seized her by the wrists and drew her from the body. “This must step," he said, “or she will go mad.” “Come!” he said firmly, “this must cease. You are overslrainedâ€"you don’t know what you are doing or saying. You force me to think for you. and I will do so. Come now, you must obey me I am used to being obeyed. and i will he so now. To stay here all night unreans death or Illfldllt‘ss for you; you shall say that in the morning. sent you will conic with me.” The girl made a wild struggle to free licr wrists. but. Gordon‘s hands were steel. “Don’t struggle.” hr- said. less. You heard what I stud. yc ur hut? Your Coat?" For a moment there was 'a struggle stillâ€"for a moment, shaken with hys- teria, the girl fought. on; but. Gordon held her powerless; his voice. which his men had often trembled to hear raised, even while they loved it, frightened and subdued her. llcr eyes turned almost URCUIISCI(U\I_\' towards a chair in Corner of the wont \\ here Cirdon saw was lying if sable cont. Drawing ln‘r hiwards he cormr he sciml the Coat with one hand and flung it over llz-r. holding her with the other. A hat was lying where it had fallen from the chair to the flour and pic-kin;r it up. lm plucrd it on her hmd. “It is dark mid foggy and long past. midnight.” ho XU\\', At pre- “It. is us 0- \\'licre is come on." Still leading the now terrified and the' half unconscious girl, he made his way from the room and out. into the passage. At the entrance he paused and gave a rapid glance at the room. “I'm in for it now, right or wron, ," he said, “and. the more time I have t c better. Someone might notice that light." And groping round for the elec- tric light. button he turned one that came to his hand. Fortunately it was the right. one. and, through the panels, he saw the light go out, and made his way down the stairs into the street, half leading, half carrying the girl whose sobs had cutile ceased by now. On reaching the street it. was evident that the fog had disappeared, at all evcnts for the. moment, and the wide thoroughfare was not so deserted as Gordon had expected. lie w‘as standing anxietist watching his companion and casting occasional doubtful glances round him, when the rattle of a cab sounded in the distance. and as it drew nearer, to his relief he saw the man held up his whip and drive quickly to- wards him at his ufiirmalive gesture. He turned to the girl, pressing his fin- gers inio\hcr wrists, and with his face stern and fierce. “Not a word or a sound now," he said harshly, “I am going to take you somewhere where you will be safe for to-night. What you like in the morningâ€"at present you must obey me.” It hurt. him to see her face, pale, ter- rified, dazed, to feel her white wrists shrink as he crushed them, to see her reef and recover with an effort under his stern gaze, but he had no mercy. “Get in,” he said, as he opened the door of the cab, and half lifted her in- side, watching from the corner of his. eye the cabman’s blank stare of amaze- ment at this beautiful girl, whose costly fur coat was hanging to one shoulder and whose plumed hat the wrong side before, trembled over her eyes. “No. I2, Park Corner,” he said firmly. “All right, cabby, only a supper party~ rather late, you know. Our other cab broke down and left us.” “And may you never know, my beauty, that I once insinuated that you drank too much,” he muttered to him- self, as he entered the cab and seated himself by its occupant.» She had sunk back in the furthest ccrner. whether frightened still, or un- conscious, Gordon did not know; and he did not attempt to speak to her. I-Iis mind was running over the events of the evening and their various conse- quences, seen and unseen. “To-night’s pretty clear selling, at least,” he thought. “Old Mother Crump’s all right. Living with us all our lives, and knowing me from a baby, she‘s got a pretty good idea of my character: and with her motherly ways and a little more unpleasantncss on my part-bru- tality you might call itâ€"I think my Icvcly friend will see the reasonableness of taking things as they comeâ€"till morning. But then? To-morrow? What in heaven’s name will happen to-mor- row? Suppose I’m wrong: suppose she really did kill that follow. Or even if she did not, suppose she still insists on giting herself up? Or suppose she does not do that: suppose that I persuade her, but the police discover that body and get on the track? What then? By jove, I shall be in a pretty awkward positionâ€" And she? Good Lord! Sheâ€"But, thank gcodness, I’m not easily frightened. ilullo. here we arel” ‘ The cab drew up with a rattle and clatter before a gate in a wall above which could be seen trees, and beyond them again a distant house. Gordon sprang to the ground, and turned to the cabman. “Idont mind giving you a good tip, cabby,“ he said, taking out. half a sovereign, “for you got us home all right. The other fellow took us from +â€" frorn the corner of nothing is done wholesale. Each! addition to the equipment meant only a little extension of the area to be pro-l tectcd, but with every farmhowe the centre of a oonstantlyextending circle' of territory in which fowls were safe: from natural enemies, the district sooni lbecame untenable for those pests. And: to my mind, it is well that the adop-; tion of the colony system compels obâ€"l scrvance of the rule of slow growth Inf poultrykceping, ffor my observation has’ been that rapid growth in the begin- ning is rarely associated Iwith a sucv C(ssful enterprise. Hittittttt .tttttff tittfl i About the Farm? THE COLONY SYSTEM OF POULTRY KEEPING. Poultry-keeping is usually regarded as one of the easiest departments of farm work, and yet there are many prob- trmsconnccicd withit; so many,in fact, that, for want of mastering them, the great majority of poultry-keepers who [0 into the businessâ€"at least, to any considerable extentâ€"fail, says John H. Robinson, in a paper read before the National Poultry Conference, recently held in England. And this, perhaps, is not wonderful, considering that. its coniplcxitirs invariably increase \wilh the number of the flock. Poultry‘keep‘ mg. in fact, is a business which must be learned, as any other business must be learned; hence, the only safe way is to begin on a small scale, learn by experience, and make extensions only when the footing is known to be sure. So far but three systems have been adop'ed by poultrydreepers in this coun- try. (I) The farm method, (2) the inten- sive method. and (3) the colony method. By the first of theseâ€"a very dcsultry methodâ€"all fine fowl, chickens and old ones, are usually kept in one flock, and given, practically, the run of the farm. In summer, but little feed is given them. and too often but very little drink. IrL winter the whole flock is huddled in some small annex of the farm build- ings, and occasionally are permitted to run at large through the stables and barns. This method, as may be judged, is not conducive to training or forcing of the hens to lay when required. They are almost sure to be summer layers, quite unproductive In winter, when the price of eggs is highest. Nevertheless, the hardihood of fowl thus neglected, as it were, is often remarkable. The method has, at least, some elements of the natural about it. Being thrown so much on their own resources, the fowl are obliged to TAKE NECESSARY EXERCISE, and during summer they usually man- age to look out pretty well for them- selves, although, it must be granted, at some expense to growing grain and gardens. The second methodâ€"the intensiveâ€" is highly artificial, and is not, as a rule, to be recommended. Its aim is to keep a large flock in limited space, and .it necessarily calls for expensive buildings, closed-in yard-s, and the con- stant care of an expert poultry-keeper. Even with the latter success is not as- sured, for where large flocks are hud- dled together insect pests make more speedy headway, disease is more likely to run rife, the ground of the yards becomes poisoned with toxic substances and endless complications ensue. By the colony system, which is fast gaining popularity in the United States, especially in Ithode Island, most of the objection-able features in the two above methods have been eliminated. Instead of having one large poultry house, and compelling all the fowl to herd to- gether, two or more. according to the number of hens, are used, and are 9H++++++fi i + I + + + + I s + + + + 4. 4. + I + 4...“ THIS FOR YOU, YOUNG MAN. Vacation is Over Renew Your Resolutions. Now That The following from the pen of “The Man in the Overalls," a writer on the staff of The Hamilton Times, may be perused with profit by all young men: Now, my young chap, don’t throw down the paper, for I have a. word or two for you which I think you should know, and I haven‘t bothered you for some time. Certainly, I’m an old crank and several other things, but it won‘t do you any harm to read the rubbish anyway, and it won‘t take more than a minute. How are you making out? Last year about this time, when I spoke. to you, you were going to .pitch right. :11 and make a success of yourself. You. were going to read up everything you Could get ydur hands on relating to' your business, and then make yourself indispensable to the boss. [fave you done it? You haven't? What was the trouble? You got tired? You did not. have perseverance enough to keep it up? You couldn’t do it and enjoy your- self as you wanted to do at the same time? Too many things going onâ€"too many attractions, Besides, what was the use of your killing yourself? You only go through this world once, and you guess you will be able to make a fairly good living some way or other. Now, my boy, why not be honest about it, and confess right Out that you are beaten, that you have given up the fight to he somebodyâ€"that you are content to drift with the Crowd? You didn‘t look at it in that way? Well. perhaps not. But that doesn’t alter the fact. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, but, all play and no work sends Jack to the poorhouse. The. billiard table, theatre and homes of. mirth may be all right in a way, but they should never be allowed to inter- fere with a Iellow’s life purpose. I, think I told you once before that what, you will be tWenty years from now,â€" if you IIVCâ€"-\VI.KII largely depend on; what you do nowâ€"on how you spend your time at present. Going on as you; are doing now will just be one of the{ rompâ€"a nobody. How do you like the prospect? Haven't you pluck and de-{ termination enough to pull yourself to gather and be a man? _. _-a___ CONCRETE POLES. Show Greater Endurance for Electric Lines than \‘Voodcn Poles. An Indiana company has been organ-, ized for the manufacture of concrete poles for line work. A series of con. tinuous rods of twisth carbon steel es- pecially prepared for the purpose are. held in position and bound together by. Rupert Street and then broke down. Here you are. Don‘t bother to get down." And he turned back to the cab. There was not. a sound from the occu- pant, and when Gordon touched her hand it was icy cold. “Thank goodness, sh: has fainted,” he said to himself. “So far so good.” It was not an easy task to raise the senseless form and lift it from the vehi- cle, and Gordon thanked providence that his muscles were of steel, as he bore his burden across the footpath and opened the gate with difficulty, the cabman‘s parting chuckle greeting his ears mean- while. “The worst. part‘s over now,” he mut- tered, as the wheels sounded farther and farther away. “I hope I took that cabby in. I don’t see why he shouldnit believe my yarn. It was the best. thing I could think of. Confound the fellow for laughing! Drunk, the brute!" 'l‘ho fog had disappeared, and the moon had risen. Coming out behind the ircCS. it shone for a moment- on thel white face of the senseless girl, as Gor- don stood “holding her in his arms. He (looked down at the lovely eyes. closed now, and covered by their long dark lashes. at the rich waves of her hair, and her pure curved lips. “Thank God i did it,” he said involun‘ tarily. “Thank God I savrd her f" (To be continued). 9}. They were disc-ussfng the factors .which innkc for success in the world. when the {tn-fixing young man saidâ€"4 “'l‘h‘re‘s nothing like force of character, Iold man. M w. here‘s .lonesl Sure to make his way in the world. He's a will of IlIS own. you know." “But. Brown (1415 something better in his favor.” “What‘s that?" “A will of his uncle‘s." “Gentlencn of the jury." said the j.;.j_-_x~_ as he concluded his charge. “If! i I‘m evidence shows in your minds that lpiiruinonih. cvrn indirr‘cily. was the, of the man's death. the prisoner mum“; tm convicted." .\n hour later .a It:- sscnger came from the jury room. . “The gt‘lllxllll‘tl of the jury. your lion- ,(i-." he said. “desire information." “On jwhzat. point of evidence?" “None. your l.ull<=l'; they want to know \how to spell pneumonia!” , millet? '(‘tilblilol'uhuh placed for enough apart to keep condi- Ill- tions favorable to the health of males. These houses, ‘which are from S or 9 feet wide to’ 12 or 14 feet long, are usually set in a pasture field, over which the fowl may roam at will in search of animal and insect food. The doors may be closed to keep cattle out, and such flood and drink as are neces- sary placed on the floor, the poultry gaining access through a small hole; or a small enclosure may be fenced in Especial care is before each building. paid to ventilation, and during warm weather the houses are raised from be» low to give free circulation beneath. Each house accommodates from 30 to 35 hens. As a rule, plenty of food is supplied. There are all kinds of sysâ€" tems of feeding. Some use the hopper system, while many other adhere to the old plan of giving a cooked mash. \thre soft food is given, it is usually fed in the morning. Care is taken that a supply of CLEAN, COOL \VATER is always before the fowl. liens are used alrnoat altogether for hatching. and. until grown. the chickens are kept in small, sum-ate ccops, which are moved from time to time; that they may be always on clean ground; after haying, they are usually placed in the hay fields. The colony-house plan is a very na- tural one. and much safer as regards disease than the close-quartering aml intensive-housing system. There are two things which prevent a more general adoption of the colony method among farmers in this coun- try. The colony plan is not adale Io winter use in sections where the snowfall is heavy, and where vcrnnn almund. as their dcprcdaiious would make it. impossible to maintain colon- ies of {owls on fields and pasture re- nzote from farm buildings. To meet the first Objection, some poultry farmers are combinan intensive methods for \‘.'lll'.rl' with the colony plan for sun:- iner. The first cost of such a plant is 4‘“ but the labor-saving may \‘.R.l'l'fllii it. The! remains to be sap. The second objection is in many [JEHCLN a srrious one. It takes time and perâ€" SISIEIII ccncerh'd effort to rid a dislricf of the posts that prey on poultry. Many who prri the C'llhll)‘ plan ‘~w0uld like tl- inst-til u plant vii that type Complete. lui Cannot (1-) so ivrcause of certain lasts from wi.d annuals. Ii stein» nir- prolvrlute t-., remind such that. in tin natural dcvtlopmcnt .if the catchy plan a spiral steel wire from the apex to the base of the pole, and the poles are moulded into ajustable forms. All large poles or poles over thirty- fivc feet will be constructed in the holes by upright forms, says the Electrical World. Gains for cross-arms, holes for bolts and steps are easily provided for while the concrete is plastic. A thirty foot pole of octagonal sect-ion constructed a year ago in a horizontal position, hauled nine squares and set up with cross arms, subjected to two surn- rners and a winter with wires attached, is stated to show no perceptible wear or injury from use or the elements. Some severe tests made with poles constructed in this manner, show that though very hard and durable and ap- parently rigid a surprising elasticity is displayed. For instance, a pole thirty feet in length when subjected to a strain of 3,100 pounds at the top deflected from a straight line thirty inches before cracking the cement. A Cedar pole of like dimensions broke at 2,200 pounds, llms showing in the concrete pole a 50 per cent. greater power of resistance. Even the cracking of the cement did; not apparently weaken the strength of! the conCrete. pole, since the rc-enforce- ment then becomes active and takes the entire strain. In addition to the great strength imparted to the crrncnt shaft. by the carbon steel twisted rods, that spiral coil binds the body of the concrete and at the same time imparts additional strength both horizontally and longitur dinally. Accurate accouan of all expenditures for labor and material in the construc- tion of these poles are slated to show that under average conditions the first cost of these l'ttâ€"(‘IIIOI'CCtI concrete poles is about equal to. or slightly in excess of the cost of cedar poles set in the ground. With re-r-nforcrd concrete poles the renewal cost incident to the use of wooden poles is entirely re- moved. its the former are absolutely in- destructible. 4â€"...â€" Pat (to English travelcrlâ€"“.=\nd have you heard the latest?" E. 'l‘.â€".\‘o: \\'hzit s it?" Paiâ€"“Shurv. in Ireland they can’t hang a man with a ‘wooden leg." E. T.â€"".\'evcr! What do they do then?" l’atâ€"“Ach. sinire. they just hang l-im with a rope." “\thrwl \\‘iif:i. Lottie Brown on, cagrd'.’ That proves what I've always soulâ€"that, no matter how plum and lui-trinix-rcd a girl may lc. there's .lwnys a fool ready to marry her Who's the {nor than?" “I amt"