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n+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Not: Guilty ; ooooooao 01‘. A Great Mistake. + ++++++++f++++++++++++ 1.f++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++t++++++++++** CHAPTER XII.â€"(C0ntinued). The old driver looked down at him, and then shook his head sadly. “I couldn‘t do it, sir," he said. "Couldn't do what? (‘Luldn‘t follow that man for half a sovereign '1” "I couldn’t do it, sir. 1t ’ud be rob- bing you. Look at the mare. The spi- rit is willing, but the flesh, well, there ain't no flesh on her.” “But, you old idiot, the man's walk- ing.” . “Ay, we can keep up with him, now,” returned the old man, without too much enthusiasm, however. “But what about when he gets into a liansom Is that the one, that left in the grey trou- sers? lle's sure to take a bansom." "Yes," returned Gordon, half amused, half angry, and pacing along beside the cab with a fearful eye on Usher. “That‘s the man. But. come on. no nonsense now. Ilalf a sovereign is worth having. .When he takes a cab we’ll see." The cabman nodded. "Well, well, sir, as you say, we'll see," he said. “We‘ll do our best, me and the old mare; wr-‘ve done it. for forty years. Don‘t blame me if we miss old grey trousers, though." But they did not miss him, nor were they likely to, as Gordon very quickly saw, and he mngratulated himself on his judgment. It, was evident that. the old eabman, either in jest, or from ex- cessive modesty, had underrated the powers of himself and his horse, for neither of them gave Gordon cause for a moment's uneasiness. In and out. of the crowded traflic, dawn the. Haymar- Ref and the Strand, and even in the throng of Fleet Street, they never even for. an instant lost sight of Usher‘s tall figure, and it was not until they reached St. Paul’s Churchyard that Gordon's hand went quickly to the handle of the door. The cabman bent down at the sound, however, and stopped him. “It‘s all right, sir,” he said. “He’s only getting I l on a bus. He’s going to the Illinories. l heard him ask the conductor. Don’t. you get out. yet. We aren’t afraid of a bus." Gordon hesitated. While Usher walked, he had been able to follow him with his eyes from the cab window. On the top of the bus he was invisible to him. Yet the cabman had done splen- didly till now, and it was quite certain that Usher would recognize him if he himself took the bus. “All right." he said. "I’ll leave it. to you, but for good- ness‘ sake keep your eyes open.” The. cabman nodded, whipped up his old mare, who responded nobly, and thi- ehase began again. .-\t the Minories they stopped again, and Gordon held his breath, but, after an instant the cab slowly continued its way, and Gordon cautiously peered out. There was no sign of Usher on that side, but on turning to the other win- dow he saw him walking quickly down the road before them, and he mentally added another shilling to the promised reward. Usher made his way, the cab followâ€" ing him, down the wide street, and under the railway arch, when he turned to the left along St. George’s Road. “Where on earth is he going," Georg1 "surely not to Jamraeh's.” .lut the gambler passed the animal dealer's, and still went on. while the streets grew dirtier and more unsavory, and George more curious .s‘uddenly the eubnmn pulled up, and, descending from his box. came. quickly wund to Gordon. “\Ve're done now. air," he said. “He's going down Illin- (Ien Lane, and the cab can't follow him. It‘s too narrow. But if you don't want. him to see you, you can't get out and chase him, for there‘s no iratlic, and he‘d see you in a moment." Gordon hesitated, and hit his lip. “What the deuce is to be done, then ?" hi- said. “flat I must try it at any cost." "1 know," returned the old cabman, llflrr a moment‘s reflection. “I'll do it for you. He‘s going in somewhere, therr's no doubt of that, for Minden Lane don't lcad illll'vvllt‘l‘t‘. You look after the cab for a minut», and I'll tell you where. he goes.” “Good,” said Gordon quickly. “Co at once. I'll wait. but look sharp, or youi w n't catch him." | ‘ he calunan hurried off down the nar-l ft w turning, at the entrance to \\'lllt,'lli the vehicle stood, and Gordon was left‘ al’ne. . ~\ihere had this fellow t'sher gone. he_ wondered, and what was his (l'i'tllltl sol Wondered, fa" from the usual haunts of such at man. \\'as it something which lure! upon the mystery of tilaude (iurlhm‘sl death and Mists liaunl's strange t’wlllt‘S‘: Skill? lli‘ fi‘ll it was. llt‘ ii-ll li‘ \\':is‘ upon the eve of some discovery. and bi“ peered eagerly forlll. looking for the c:-‘ man‘s return. iler a nuuucnl or l\"-\. that wirihf.’ r- .n-in‘d. scratching lus head don-ut-5 . sir. he‘s there.” he said. i lyre?" i “in a house at the [with in Jf the la Ilb i’t‘." “\\'i~'.l. well ‘3" “Put it‘s it empty liaise. sir. .nply '3" .i illcr as a l'ill nut, 'l'lu‘re ain‘t a: fluid in it. but him. Ami I'm sure he'sl liars. l ju~'. «turgid s._-_‘hf .if lmn going Ania tlu‘ dm r: I went down to have it took at the house just to g:vc you the ~x ' w‘.u~.~‘ was the if ruse. l imam-w. the gate i< open.“ tip. when, says I. it‘s :1 empty house. Well, I took a walk around the back to make sure, and sure enough it You can see into the rooms; no blinds, no curtains, no furniture, not a soul to be seen. Look out, here he comes l” The warning came not a second too soon, for as he spoke Usher came round the corner of the street and was upon them . ._.._ Cl IAI’TI'IR XIII. Swift as lightning Gordon flung him- self down upon the straw at the bottom of the cab, and prayed that the gambler might not take a fancy to hire the vehicle: while the cabman, with a quickness which did him eredid, leaned (‘fll’OICSSly against the door, blocking it and the window with his broad shoulâ€" dcrs. Usher cast a glance at the cab and its antiquated sired, the cabman being carc- iul not to catch his eye while he hesi- tated; then the suspense was over. It was evident that the apix‘arfance of the vehicle did not impress the. gambler, and he walked past and down the street. Gordon rose breathless from his crouching position. “Has he passed?" he asked, at last, in a whisper. "Yes, sir, he‘s gone. llc (lid look at us at one time; but, lor’ bless you, he thought better of it. He didn't take inch to u:- looks, mo and the old horse." “I am exceedingly obliged to you, at all events,” said Gordon. “I did not want him to see me, and I congratulate you on the manner in which you folâ€" lowed him. But we have lost him now, I suppose?” . "Lor, yes, sir; long ago, I‘m afraid. He went straight down the street and was out of sight before you got up, at» most. You wouldn’t be likely to find him again now." Gordon nodded. “I am not sure that it matters very much after all," he said, thoughtfully; and, opening the cab door, he stepped out on to the pavement. The driver stared at him. “Going to stretch your legs a bit. sir'I” he said. Gordon laughed. "Yes, I am," he said, after a second, “but you need not wait while I do sc. You can go home new; and, heroâ€" you’ve earned itâ€"â€" here‘s a sovereign for your trouble. Give the more a good feed, will you 2” The driver nodded gratefully. "You’re a gentleman, sir; yes. the old girl shall have the run of her teethâ€"what she‘s got leftâ€"tonight; and I’m much obliged to you. But, excuse me, sir, can‘t I take you back home?" Gordon shook his head. “No, thanks," be returned, "I’m not. going home just yet. I,\vant. to have a look . . .” lie stopped. and, deciding not to say more, turned away with a nod. The driver stared after him. “You want to have a look at. the empty house, I suppose, sir,” he said quickly. “Shall I wait for you? This is a queer neigh- bcrhood.” Gordon smiled at his tone. “No, thanks. I'll get borne my own way. I‘m not afraid of the neighmrhoot .” The driver scratched his head ihought- fully. “Perhaps not, sir,” he sold, “perâ€" haps not, but an empty house is a funny thing." Gordon looked up. he asked, quickly. “Lor, yes. it. was empty. round. It. must have been." “Well, what then?" The man pondered a moment, and then shrugging his shoulders, mounted his lox. you please, sir; you've teen a gentleman to me. Come up, old girl! All the. same, an empty house is a funny thing. Good day, sir." Gordon watched the. cab rattle off, and turned towards the lane. “An emp- ty house is a funny thing ;" Yes, it is, my god man, and I'm going to have a look at. it. It is empty, of course; but still, if it‘s empty, why on earth should Usher come all this way to see it? That's what you mean, I suppose; and if it's worth his while, now that I've lost him, and don't know what to do next, why shouldn't I have a look at it, too I" He made his way down the narrow, ill-siiielling lane. bml-zing about cuiefnlly. He had remembrred, too late to inquire, that the driver had not ex- plained the position of tub not.qu put he had not much fear of failing to dis- ccvcr it. never-ll:cl:ss. He reached the end of the street. bar- red by the blank rear wall of n mg], “It was empty ?" I lOuliOd all tripling. howevrr, without (‘tllt'lllllfJ unv. glimpse of a lttv‘dm‘ which sccnml llll< our-unlit]. :llltl for a moment he lie-st- t-ihd. louking about him. It was inipw :ille that he muld hrl'ie iiiisletkcn the lull“, c'pully impossible that the cab~ nm‘ >ll‘L‘llll have demiivcd him: but gumwu. II“ was shuntin; uiulcr a high width ‘xtinbd :l a r? i ".v‘ build" ', whivh l‘. and half Lidilnn i :lll ll'wll gale. lli‘ t." it standing on tip-hm pciici‘ l‘.i:irl\\'ll}‘ wnis narrow, and l, tut he could «aleh s ' of chutney; and a l. duvk \\‘i‘. blunt eye. “That is the 'u-eus‘. he thought. him ‘ And suddenly he dived the it. .‘ staring down at him like a and lightly. It was evidently well cited and cared for, and in constant use, and the discovery of this fact, together with the extremely deserted and dilapidated appearance of the house, which he im- mediately caught sight of, gave him a strange thrill. The cabman‘s words re- turned to himâ€"“An empty house is a funny thing." Certainly there was something strange about such an empty house, with such a wellciled gale handle. He made his way up the. weedy gra- vcl path. by the-shrubs which had evi- denin been for yenns untcndcd, to the front door of the building, and stood looking at it. It was a high brick house of three storeys, with a sqiiare ueg front and staring windows, curlainlcss and Covered with dirt and cobwebs; a great. many panes of glass were broken and stuffed here and there with paper, and the front door, from which the paint was peeling, looked as if it, had not been Opened for years. “A very different. affair to the gate," thought. Gordon, after a quick and com~ prchcnsivc glance; and he made his way round to the back. Yet here again the inspection bmnghl small results. The dir!y yard. which enclosed the back of the premises. was strewn with the rub- bish of years; the wind-:nvs were as un- clean and dilapidated as those of the front, and their broken panes showed plainly only the bare and cobwebbml ricms beyond. “It is an empty house with a ven- geance,“ thought George. “But there is nothing funny about it. for it seems to me I am wasting my time.” He tried the handle of the back door; it turned easily enough. but flu-re might. be nothing in that, the thing was fas- tened, and as he had no key, he could not tell in what (‘mlldlllflll the mechan- Lsm of the lock was Undecided, he. look a walk around the house, peering into the windows and listening intently, but he learned no- thing. There appeared no disguise about the place; it was even aggressively frank and open. He could see into every winâ€" dow. and all the rooms were as empty, dirty and evidently as long unused as these he had first seen; no sound came to him, and no trace of recent occupa- lll'll, even of recent. visitors, rewarded his investigations, “1 can break open the back door and make still more sure," he thought, re turning disconsolalely, "but is it Irally worth while? Usher did not. stay long; why is it not possible that. he came to see some friend and found him gone? And, after all. what did I expect to dis- cover in an empty house? Ilut, by Jove, is it empty. after all l” For he had turned suddenly with a start, and was watching some object on the ground. ‘ This object which had caught his rovâ€" ing eye and rivetlvd his attention, was only an ordinary London sparrow. but it was wrestling in the dust with a crumb which was too large for it, and Gordon wondered how the crumb got there. "I am sorry to interrupt you, but. you can come back and finish afterwards, old chap,” he said, stepping forward, “this crumb ncwls consideration.” He picked it upâ€"it was, in reality. quite the size of a cherryâ€"and IOoked at it. It was only a piece of ordinary bread, not at. all new, but for a moment Gordon felt as if it told him a whole lushnwx H.had brcn earned thenb and that quite recently, fer thrre were no houses near from which it could have been thrown, and the sparrows efforts told him that it was beyond the power ’ 'l‘hercfcrc c; a bird to control. .' . but. Gordon wasted no time in futile questioning. He turned to the door, and, with all the strength of his poWer- ft< frame, shattered the lock and entered the passage. Did he. hear a movement as his steps resounded in the ll")llu\\" hall; was there anyone within? lie cvmbl not tell, but there had been. at least; for there were footprints in the dust of the passage, and tlllIiOSt at his feet lay the end of a burnt-out cigarette. llut an examination of the interior of the house for a time brought him no- thing furlhcr. lie seal-chm] the ground floor rooms religiously. and continuing his way upstairs, explored the whole of the. other lw-n storeys. There was no one, there. and. indeed, it seemed in- credible there could be, for the dust had evidently been long undisturbed; how- 0\ er, the house was dark. the windows being to.) dirty to admit the light, and Gordon was not giving to rrly loo much upon first impressions. remembering the incident of the crumb. lluts‘...l, and corner of the two flours, he iii-sccnd- ed a little disappoinhd, “\Vhat the «ii-Lee did anyone L'u’lf‘ll‘ into an empty house to smoke a cigarcle for." he wrnderml. “and why brcad‘.’ Let. us have a funk at the footprints." lie lighted a match and glanevl at lbr marks on the passage Ilut'il'. Long. nar- ,n.w, footprints, light Impre.‘ ms; Gorâ€" dor rcmcmlwrcd Ushers cal-like walk. land full .wul them along the hall leagerl). And then he llll(iPl',’<lt.utl. A ,passagu. dark and narrow. led from the [Hill draw to the back In‘ the house, gr-iiwing darker as it went, until. nachâ€" img: the stairs. it lock a turn unthi- Illa-ll). :uul Cord-iris mahh going out Slidle n':y. vanishcl. Bu: 'lu“ lnul aim-ally taught a glimpse .t.l :i and um uw ilulir in the will. and be sfrurk :lll‘l'i'v‘l' l.,:':.l iznmv-diub-ly. "1%)" .Iw‘x'l‘. 1t Cn'.’.:‘.1'l' lu.‘ sad. “\\ll:it a fl‘n'il I am 1” ' Holdingr a match in on.» lurl luv sic-Night the handle and iiirnl-d it. The {ll ul' did not om}: ll lu- pu‘lvl limiter. . .. it did not tii‘i'll. but it gun- a little. and flu '=. in ’ I ('I-.:~(‘(l with a if. - - ' _' lappin- 1d 3r il‘l'tlll. air? ‘r-l. ain‘t tlgn. gr tuniuin. ll" “ ‘ ' r (.n the wt‘nt out, in. taking a gout grip struck :miqzm. , when he had gone through ewry nookl a-i-l be m‘ the bundle. l." pulled li'ird. This sud- Ile “as right. The latch turned easilyidcn tug note the thing give. as usual, he hurled himself down. and for a second he almost seemed to feel a rough tweed coat within his grasp. Then he reached a turning, struck vio- lently against a, wall, stumbled, rubbed himself, and even while he rubbed hea 'd the flying footsteps swallowed up by the darkness. [to struck a match and looked about him. 110 was in a dark, dirty, but fairly dry cellar. It was empty. but opposite in him was a low archway, and he dart- ed forwards. Ilis match went out. as he passed through, but. he struck another and went on. Here again there was no sign of the unknown himself. though a pile of clothes , thrown on the floor, and some plates with broken food upon an upturned barrel was evidence that he had been there. There was, however, another, archway before Gordon. and fr-"ri'u beyond came still the sound of scurrying steps. George dashed down biz. half-burned match. “TllCm‘ cellars run into one another, and go around the l'-aseinent,” he thought, with a sudden flash of inspiration. “While I blunder about, that fellow will be around flu: place. up the stairs, and out of the back door. This won't. do.” lle let the flying one. go, and turning quickly, ran back through the first cel- lur. Even as he reached the foot. of the slairs a scurrying near him and a sud- den halt warned him he had not been a moment too soon. “What an inspira- tion," he thought, “if only I can fasten that door.” His hand went nervously to the lock. and to his delight his fingers grasped a key. “That fellow was listeningr at the door, and I never gave him time to lock it, ” he thought. “What a piece of luck.“ He quickly turned the lock. and after trying the door, put the key in his pocket. “Now. my man. we can take it quietly." he said out loud, and he made his way down the stairs again. (To be Continued). 1++H+++fr+§+§+++++++¢++r that tile lam a++++++++++s+++++++++ SHEEP MANAGEMENT. There is a general impression exist- ing among those, that know little. about sheep that these animals will live and become fat on weeds and~brush and ++oo++++§s ++++++++++ | that the cost of keeping a flick oi.shecp it next to nothing. The, experienced flock nnisfcr knows better than this. and he gives his shccp good feed and gold care throughout the entire year. Unless this is done the sheep will not 11' pi-ofitalne. \\hcn a {cw sheep or.- ’krpt under the other method they will lantinue to exist, but lhclr owner will §te greatly (ll‘fllJDOllllt'Jd at not recon" in; the profits from them he thinks he slinld receive. From my experience and observation .in raising sheep I have found that they Imust be given the best of care and al- ttntion at all times, writes an experi- creed breeder. They require good p:'i<- !lmagc. and to this should lo addul lgicnly of shade and fresh wall“: Thi- 1feeling should be the bes that can to lti‘illt‘ in the fall Inwnlhs llifll liil‘ ism-0;: will go into \\.nt.m (llIi-l'lr‘l‘5 in \l shape. I unit that Illlli>S tin-y 5-] S ; art into \‘Jinicr right film will not lin‘iw in lhv- lath-r part «if it. >-v. in :i.l.l.liun t. the patronagw. ii.- 310‘. ' ‘.n-n;_i.< :nz-fl lun'r tlw wig r but i: will l arly Hzluab'e. I :. hrs to elm Another t M‘Jli’in Ihl'ullgil the wLn’er. but as usual the ground he had gained was quickly lost again. (Jordon set. his teeth, however, and for a minute or two the contest wavered. Then his match burned down to his fingers, and. forcing him to relax his efforts, made him mut- ter an oath. As if in response to the situation, a stronger pull came from the other side, and the door closed again. Gordon shrugged his shoulders. “Very well," he said to himself, “we‘ll do it in the dark, since one hand is not enough. All the some. I wish I had a candle.” Relinquishing the glowing fragments of his match, he put both hands to the knob of the door. Gordon was an ex- ceptionally powerful man, 1{1nd in good training; and he was using two hands now; moreover, instinct told him that his unsoen opponent. was probably down a step or two, and so at a disadvantage, yet. nevertheless, for a time, the result of the battle remained in doubt. Gordon hit his lip. “I wonder which will give in first?" he thought. “Not I, Hi swear. I don't know how wright is, l-ut strtmgth seems to be about equal. Put surely living in a cellar must tell before long." He pulled even harder, and listened in- tently, and the sound of a heavy and labored breathing came to him through tl:( keyâ€"hole. “It’s coming," said George. with a last effort, and it came. There was a groan, a splutter, and then ‘a crash," llr- door flung open, and Gordon was dashed by the recoil against the oppo- site wall. As he recovered himself. he heard the. swift patter of footsteps flying down the. dark stairs which fared him, and he darted in pursuit. The vanquished one knew the stairs intimately. evidently. while Cordon sim- ply saw blackness in front of him; yet .3: 5' that the ewes are developing their: young, and unless they have a great] supply of substances to start with ft,‘ will be found exceedlnu'y difficult. tot kmp them in good condition. A third‘ drain is the loss of animal heat. which in turn causes the burning up of all the fat on their bodies. In considering the management of' sheep, it must to remembered that a hack cannot be handled or fattened sucâ€" cessfully without a close observation of their habits and peculiarities. There are a great many little things that en- tci into the attention and managrmeut ‘lhut may srem trivial, but they have much to do with the profit. thrift and comfort of the flock. The competent fell-(fer acquires a trained eye that de- ti-cts at a glance, any evidence of dis- order that will be manifest if a single- animal is off its feed or out of condi- tion. To the unobserxing or inexperi- encid fre'ler, sheep all look alike, but. when rightly studied no class of stock present-a more marked peculiarities or‘ s: clcarly manifest evidcnrrs of thrift and well doing. Attention to these little details, accompanied by regular' habits and a quiet manner, constitutes the keynote of successful sheep feeding. There is nothing that will contrilzmle- more to good results than contentment and quiet surroundings. Ilnrsh treat- uu-ut and rough manners absulutely dis.- qualify any man for success in this- work. and the feeder who disturbs the quiet and comfort of his flock every time he, goes about it, should quit the sheep l'iusiness at once. 'The natural timid and nervous temperament of the sheep necessitate gentle treatment: ’l‘hcir dainty habits about eating and drinking must be indulged as fully as: practicable. No kind of stock natural- ly selects a wider variety of feed, par- ticularly of rough forage and vegeta- tion: but two essentials are alyvaysex- acted, namely: cleanliness and palata- ‘bility. Silvop should never be given any' state or undesirable feed, nor should they be expected to eat any feed left over from a previous meal. The ration should to always wholesome and tempt-- log t.) the appetite. The barn or stable quarters should rover l 0 without fresh, pure atmo-tphere- and an ample supply of dry bedding ('uv-ing the winter months. Sheep rare- i_,' stiffer from cold if kept dry and pro- h-clerl from direct drafts. The open ah i< better than a poorly kept shelf 41' barn. “INTER FEEDIN FOR FO\\'I.S. Mushâ€"‘3 ounces to each fowl per day. Grain-â€"~'i ouncrs to each fowl per day. liul bone. boiled beef heads or meat. Galil’ound to 15 layers three times a wee k. Meat-meal and beef scraps at such trmcs as cut tone is not fed, 2 ounces IAI' fowl. Meatmcal if generally mixed in the mash. Beef scraps are most frequently given alone and occasionally in the mash. ' Green S'uffâ€"ln shapes of lawn clip- pings, CIUVC‘I', hay, etc. The former shsuild be cut short, steamed and given alone in moderate quantities twice or thrice per week. Clover hay also Cut short and steamed is generally used in the mas‘i in proportion of one-fourth of its weight. It may be given alone slcamed or dry where vegetables or ‘rooLs are scarce. Roots and Vegetables~Thc better it in the shape «at cabbage, sh and be hung ‘two feet from the floor of the pens :0 to incite the hens to exercise by jumping for it. Cabbage is also used in the mash when boiled. Roots. such as mangles, <uppliel at all times. Grit for grinding up hard food in the ; .ard and ground oyster shells to make linu~ for shells and pure water should cmstanlly be. furnished the lay- i‘l‘S‘. The attention to these details are all iuqorlanl. There may be. and doubtless are. forms of waste not mentioned here to 1*e found on farms- throughout the coun- try. and which, if clean and whole some, may lye/used to good purpose. ____.g.___. A DESIRABLE JOB. I'd like to be the idle rich, \Vilhout a thing to do But walk ili‘ulllld and look at things And 14 :if (110”th for two, Nu time clocks calling the to work, .\'~) boss to make me dance; It might demoralize me, but I think I‘d take a chanceâ€" _.\ cartingc waiting at my bcek \Vhercviér I might go, All automobile if I thought A carriage much too slow, ()1, [0'1- :1 change. a special train To keep some silly date. l-prensi. not cutting any ice, Say. w: nliln‘l it be great? l-l be the lviisy idle rich, but rut at u~cful lwil, [Tutti fir..- novcity wore off l'il k-rp thin at the boil. id wear lcn sui's of clothes a day, 12:. -h «15" (f the latest style. Oh. :. es. I guess it would bo Wop .-\i'.l ls: l‘y worth the while. l'nl be ille rich poor, l‘l‘illlli‘ {(-r {we I'm sure, i;':t declare tl;:l I lay can, . l-‘til’. l'l'. \':.i,w_ “I mlul'." “tint! sonn‘wlml 4- t “x”: {my t turnips, etc., should be i