mity her. She called up‘ was {1187111311 whom me set of cation 01- culLure he greatness. By his 5 were passing about came suddenly pupj style, manners and came suddenly stri] niï¬cance to her. Th had none of thpsp f a". u AA\â€"LLU task and the chances of death. tain phrases in Fred’s letter had 5 deep into her mind. they were rec: very vividly hy the presence of man himself, telling his own 5! She sat in the sunlight with the sic in her ears, listening to his ab: vivid speech, and a fear came to which blanched her cheeks and car at her throat. The hand which ‘ her dainty parasol of lace shook, an indescribable thrill ran thro her veins. She could no more tl of this man as a clodhopper, a co: upstart without manners or imag tion. In many ways he fell shor all the usual standards by which men of her class were judged, she suddenly realized that he poss‘ ed :1 touch of'thnt quality which l ed him at once far over their he: The man had genius. Wifhnnf ' He obeyed her, and very soon she forgot» the well-dressed Crowd of men and women by whom they were sur- rounded. the light hum of gay conver- sation. the band which was playing the fashionable air of the moment. She saw instead the long line of men of many races,_stripped to the waist and toiling as though for their lives under a tropical sun, she saw the great brOWn water-jars passed down the line, men fainting beneath the burning sun and their places taken by others. She heard the shrill whistle of alarm, the beaten drum; she saw the.spgde exchanged for the rifle, and the long" line of toilers disappear behind the natural earthwork which their labors had created. Rim cum She half arose and shook out her skirts as though about to leave him. He stopped short and found another conclusion to his sentence. “Experience!†A faint smile parted her lips. She resumed her seat. “I am glad to ï¬nd you,†she said. “so much of a philosopher. Now talk to me for a few minutes aboUt what yo?r haye been doing in Africa.†“You must be very disa; am afraid.†“I have lost,†he said th‘ “angold‘ c'gp. I have gained “The boxes †Trent suggested, “must be very hot now!†He turned down a side walk away from the stand towards an empty seat under an elmâ€"tree, and, after a mo- ment’s scarcely perceptible hesita- tion, she followed his lead. He laugh- ed softly to himself. If this was de- feat, what in the world was better? “This is your ï¬rst Ascot, is it not?†she asked. _ ' “My ï¬rst!†“And your ï¬rst defeat??’ “I suppose it. is,†he admitted cheerfully. “I .r‘ather expected to win, too.†They left the paddock by the un- derground way. When they emerged upon the lawn the band was playing and crowds of people wem strolling abogfc under the trees. ._ u... HM.“ JV“ yxv “an: Tresham now,†he said. “If you please," she answered quigtly. Several people approached Trent, but he turned away at once to Ernes- tine. ' ' “Nevér rhiï¬djï¬igk;;'wi;e' said cheer- fully, “you rode a ï¬ne race and the best horse won. Better luck next time.†Trent answered him simply, but without awkwardness. Then his horse came in and he held out his hand to the crestfallen jockey, whilst with his lefpflhe patted Iris’s head. "‘Your horse made a magniï¬cent ï¬ght for it, Mr. Trent,†he said. “I’m afraid I on] got the verdict by a fluke. Anot er time may you be thg fortunate one!†aCCI ()1 “You will leg {ne take you to Lady .__L ,.,, THE GOLDEN KEY 1y stripped 0' :er. The man these things, world. $110 3 him sudden 51‘ pride now Or “The Adventures of Ledgard.†By the Author of "What He Cost Her." 'ealized that that quality ‘e far over genius. W puppets upon it ï¬ercely. H23 gm shg had (lelihclm . a fear came to hér er cheeks and caught The hand which held .11 of lace shook, and thrjll ran through mn whdm she :I‘an. She hr xuuuuppel‘, a coarse anners or imaginaâ€" ys he fell short of lards by which the were judged, yet ed that he possess- quulity which lift- r over their heads. ms. Without edu- e had yet achieved side the men who t on the lawn be- very disappointed, saitg thoughtfully, of death. letter had sunk ‘37 Were recalled ; own story. with the mm. to his abrppt Form and speech he- f their sig- at her side yet he was feit her en- lly weaken- more d1in had mixed help 1111(1 the 81'- onu tune at a gaunt, sal10' wore a loose check suit Hamburg hat. The eyes men met. Then the blood to ice in Trent‘s veins and had heaved beneath his fe the one terrible glance v had held against, him, an played the card. Considering the nature : 2 “The people of your world,†he answered, with a flash of contempt, “are the people who ï¬nd it 50.†She was silent then, and Trent was far from being discouraged by her momentary irritability. He was cross- ing the lawn now by her side, carryâ€" ing himself well, with a new con» ï¬dence in his air and bearing which she did not fail to take note of. The sunlight, the music, and the pleasant air of excitement were all in his veins. He was full of the strong joy of liv~ ing. And then, in the midst of it all, came a dull, crashing blow. It was as though all his castles in the air had come toppling about his ears, the blue sky had turned to stony grey and the sweet waltz music had become a dirge. Always a keen watcher of men's faces, he had glanced for a sec~ “Oh, Lady Tresham is all right,†he answered. “I suppose I shall see you to-night if you are staying there. They have asked me to dinner!" She was taken aback and showed it. Again he had the advantage. He did not tell her that on his return he had found scores of invitations from people he had never heard of before. “You are by way of going into so- ciety, then,†she answered insolently. “I don’t think I've made any parâ€" ticular efforts," he answered. “Money,†she murmured, “is an everlasting force!" I “And now," she said, rising, “you really must take me to Lady Tresham. They will think that I am lost.†' ,“Are you still at your rooms?†he ‘asked. 1 She nodded. “Yes, only I'm having them spring- cleaned for a few days. I am staying at Tresham House." “May I come and see you there?†The man’s quiet pertinacity kindled a sort of indignation in her. The sud- den weakness in her defences was un- bearable. ' > “I think not," she answered shortâ€" ly. “You don’t: know Lady Tresham, and they might not approve.» Lady Tl‘esharn is ra_ther oldâ€"fashioned." I“ And he, on his part. felt a glow of cg. keen pleasure when he realized how to i the events of the day had gone in his _i favor. If not yet of her world, he )d I knew now that his becoming so would i be hereafter purely a matter of time. He looked up through the green leaves at the blue sky, bedappled with white, It ï¬eecy clouds, and wondered whether )_ , she guessed .that his appearance here, ‘his ownership of Iris, the studious It care with which he had placed himself in the hands'of a Saville Row tailor were all for her sake. It was true that she had condescended to Bohem- ianism, that he had ï¬rst met her as a journalist, w0rking for her living in a plain serge suit and a straw hat. But he felt sure that this had been to a certain extent ‘a whim with her. ,He stole a sidelong‘ glance at her â€"â€" ._ Fshe was the personiï¬cation of dainti- e ness, from the black patent shoes t showing beneath the flouncing of "her skirt, to the white hat with its clus- Her foulard gown was ‘ _ 'as simple as genius could make it,‘ j-and;she were no ornaments, save a V ï¬ne clasp' to hei‘â€w‘aistb2md of dull gold, quaintly fashioned, and the 1' ï¬ne gold chain around her neck, from .which hung her racing glasses. She ’was to him the very type of everyâ€" thing that was aristocratic. It might be, as she had told him, that she chose to work for her living, but he knew as though by inspiration that her peo- ple and connections were of that {world to which he could never belong. ,‘save on sufl‘erance. He meant to be- . long to it, for her sakeâ€"to win her!: f' He admitted the presumption, butl ‘ then it would be presumption of any man to lift his eyes to her. He esti- mated his chances with common sense; ‘ Ihe was not a man disposed to under-l Evalue himself, He knew the power, [of his wealthsand his advantage over ‘ the crowd of young men‘ who were her equals by birth. For he had met some of them, had inquired into their , lives, listened to their jargonf and had come i-n'a faint sort of way to under- stand them. It had been an encourâ€" iagemeiit to him. After all it was only lserious work, life lived out face to .face with the great realities of exist;r Fence which could make a man. In :11 dim way he realized that there were is S 2’ l ters of roses. l vivsh‘II i l l t , formal timore ley Ca to the the D Relief has be Mary. vellous to fam tarily Ernest a little “I sl Trent,’ Tren “In 1 return )andst: Fran Trent progre: illfou ‘seeme ern Ba Tren llusion [(He dealing not exp “In V y. Trent “Thei besides been in 13 then. She 1 again. once to ered tl the has for a g' few in her own class likely to satisfy Islowly, }E_rnestine. He even dared to tell ’himself ‘that‘those things which renâ€" dered him chiefly unï¬t for her, the iacquired vulgarities of his life, were things which he could put .t l. opposite back up rougher , a little ow of he moi ‘away; that‘a time would come wheniand Wht V. v«.“ V‘... n null he would take his place conï¬dently in her world, and that the end would be success. And all the while from out of the blue sky Fate was forging a thunderbolt to launch against him! time of the Vblow which him, Tr'ent’s recover CHAPTER XXXIV suit and a eyes of the i had turned 1 the ground eet. It was which Fate nd she had for a see- man, who Jdder 'allel grey two \I‘~ tad “Look here,†he said, “I want to be~ lieve in you! You saved my life, and Pm not over-anxious to do you a mis: chief. But vou must tell mo what vnn A “I HUI. UVBY-aIIXIOLIS IO (10 you a mlS: chief. But you must tell me what you have done with Vinâ€"Monty." “Don’t you know where he is?†Trent asked quickly. Francis turned towards him with a curious mixture of expressions in his 4‘ ..ace. - “You could easily have made sure of it,†Francis answered. "It wasn't my way," Trent answer- ed shortly. “Now what do you want with me ?" l l lgrass and made his way through the‘ ,music, and the skirts and flounces of spot in his - a little West Atrican stationi where the moist heat rose in fever mists , and where an endless stream of men . passed backward and forward to their tasks with wan, weary faces and slow- ly dragging limbs. What a cursed chance which had brought him once more face to face with the one weak} life, the one chapter‘ which, had he the power, he would most willingly seal for ever! From outside came the ringing of a bell, the hoarse shouting of many voices in the ring, through the open door _a vision of fluttering waves of color, lace parasols and picture hats, little trills of feminine laughter, the soft rustling of muslins and silks. A few moments ago it had all seemed so de~ lightful to himâ€"and now there lay a hideous blot upon the day. It seemed to him when he left the : little bar that he had been there for hours, as a matter of fact barely ï¬ve. minutes had passed since he had left' Ernestine. He stood for a moment on the edge of the walk, dazzled by the sunlight, then he stepped qn to the throng. The air was full of soft, gayi the women brushed against him at« every step. Laughter and excitement were the order of the day. T1'ent,;‘ with his suddenly pallid face and unâ€"i seeing eyes, seemed a little out ofE place in such a scene of pleasure.‘ Francis, who was room for him upon the seat. “I did not expect to see you in‘ England quite so soon, Captain Fran- cis," Trent said. smoking a cigar, 1 looked up as he approached and madei ‘ l l V t “I did not expect,†Francis answer- ed, “ever to be in England again. I am told that my recovery was a miracle. I am also told that I owe my life to you!" Trent shrugged his shoulders. “I would have done as much for any of my people,†he said, “and you don't owe me any thanks. To be frag]; with ypu, I‘hopred you'd die." \t She nodded, and Trent was free again, He did not make his way at once to the bandstand. Instead he en- tered the small refreshment room at the base of the building, and called for a glass of brandy. He' drank it slowly, his eyes ï¬xed upon the long row of bottles ranged upon the shelf opposite to him, he himself carried baek upon a long yvave of thoughts to 12y Trent smiled enigmaticaliy. “There are many foreign countries besides Africa,†he said, “and I’ve been in most of them. This is box No. 13;;hen. E‘shall see Xou this evening.†“He is a man with whom I had dealings with abroad," he said. “I did not expect him to turn up here.†“In West Africa?" she asked quick- 1 Iol‘merly Miss Mildred Carter, of Ba]- timore, the only daughter of J. Ridge- ley Carter, former American Minister to the Balkan States, whose work on the Duchess of Marlborough’s War Relief Committee of American ladies has been higth commended by Queen Mary. “Your friend,†Ernestine remarked, “seemed to come upon you hke a mod- enl Banqug.†Trent, ‘who did not understand the illggon2 was for once discreet. Francis'nodded and stood aside. Trent and Ernestine continued their progress towards the‘stand. “I should like a word with you, Trent,†Captain Francis said quietly. Trent nodded. “In five minutes,†he said. “I will return hereâ€"on the other side of the bandstand, say.†13' to face upon the éiibiit"{uâ€rfï¬"i}iéoi£ï¬: tarily each had come to a standstill. Ernestine looked from one to the other a little bewildered. ‘ ‘ yellgus. The t_wo men had come face formerly Miss Mildred Carter timore, the only daughter of J ley Carter, former American rhap The Viscountess Archeson not,†Trent said, “but 'uth. When I got back to y had disappearedâ€"run gland, and as yet I’ve award of him. I'dmeant quare thing by him and not How should bring him back myself. Instead of that he gave us all the slip, but un_â€" less he’s a lot different to what he was the last time I saw him he’s no ï¬t to be about alone.†‘ "I heard that he had left,†Francis said. “from Mr. Walsh.†“He either came quite alone,†Trent said, “in which case it is odd that no- thing has been heard of him, or Da Souza has got hold of him." “00m Sam's brother?" ' Trent nodded. The gates of the ghat “ere un- locked, and \ve passed inside a lï¬tle enclosure, where stood three plat- forms of cement. One of these was icarefully swept and sprinkled with (water, and when thus puriï¬ed for the frecepï¬on of the dead,it “as heaped iwith wood blocks for the burning. {The body, under its bright pal] and the chrysanthenuuns,lay outflde on the grassy slope; \vhen the prepara- [tions had been ~made the mourners lgathered round it. It was sprinkled ‘with cleansing’ water; the face was exposed agahy and honey and gheq and minute portions of the eight me- tals, and other ritual things, were passed betneen the pale Ups. Then‘ the inourners gathered around in al semi-circle; and squatting on their; haunches, with their hands folded and l their eyes downcast, chanted theirI singâ€"song chants, now shrill, nowl soft, now a mumer and then a: shout. At the foot of the hill on which it “stood the vehicles stopped; the mourn- ‘ ers clambered out of i V: ambulances,“ and with much chattering and gesti- iculating began to take the body from [the hearse. In time the procession‘ Jbegan to climb the hill, the mourners ‘chanting as they went: “Ram Ram Isatya hai: Om ka nam satya haiâ€â€" Vedic verses telling of the eternal and ‘sing‘le truth of the Name. Before the body was put into the big black motor hearse a photogra- pher was allowed to come and take a picture of the dead man's features, ‘ to be sent to his relatives in far Inâ€" dia. The hier lay in a small court among the hospital buildings, where a little crowd of the personnel had - gathered to watch. Over the body was stretched a pall of printed cre- I tonne, bright flowers on a dark ground, and white Chrysanthemums I were strewn lavishly upon The folds of the swaddling clothes were i turned aside to show the dead man’s ‘ faceâ€"a face paler than in life, young and peaceful, with ï¬ne and clean-cut features. The photographing done, the face was covered, the bier was put into the hearse. the crowd clam- bered into the big motor ambulances, and we set forth upon the long drive. Weird Procession. . Through the pretty village of Pat- cham, intensely English with its church and its duck pond, this strange funeral procession went, till the road changed to a steep track, and before long the motors left the track and took their heavy way over the soft turf in a fold of the downs. Soon there came into sight a very ugly little screen and shelter of corrugated iron. 1(1 There had been a death in the Kit~ chener Military Hospital at Brighton. The dead man was not a combatant, but one of the personnel. The funeral, therefore, lacked the picturesque ele~ ment of wounded men as bearers. But he wa‘s a Brahman, and of the Arya Somaj. There are many of his kind in the.personnel, and so, instead of the usual single ambulance wagon, there were three full of mourners, and in~ stead of the brief rites of the Jats or the richer but scarcely longer cere~ monies of the Sikhs, we were to see something very elaborate and particu~ lar, and in its odd way, impressive. So many incredible things are hap- pening that the imagination is apt to strike work and to take the incredi- ble for granted. But the spectacle of Hindu burial rites performed on the Sussex Downs, England, is one to stir the most jaded sense of wonder. As I write, the sound of the queer, whin- ing chant of the mourners lingers in my ears; the acrid fumes of the burn‘ ing pyre hang in my nostrils, I seem to see the brown, bare-footed ï¬gures squatting in prayer or busy about the complicated details of the long ritual, and I know that I (lid not dream it all, writes a London correspondent. ,,‘*r V‘ N HOW HINDUS BURN ( DEAD IN ENGLAND Ritual Demahds Use of Odoriferous. Nutritive. and Sweet Things, Also’Mcdicines. WHEN SOLDIER‘S BODY GOES ON THE FUNERAL PYRE. be ntinued.) The celebrated observatory at Greenwich, England, the plaCe from which we reckon longitude, was found- ed by Charles II. in 1675, mainly for the purpose of investigating the movements of the moon in the inter- ests of navigation. Although in the intervening two and a half centuries [astronomers have worked at the prob- llem, the moon has not yet become en- ftirely amenable to their mathematics. 5The astronomer-royal of Great Bri- Itain, in his report of the work at !Greenwich during the past year, calls attention to the increasing deviation between the calculated position of the ‘moon in the sky and its real position as shown by the Greenwich observa- tions. The deviation has lately been growing in a serious manner. The error last year was more than twelve times as large as the error twenty fem-s» ago, and the average annual increase (hiring ‘the- tu'orâ€"decades‘has amounted to half a second of arc in longitude. The reason that astrono- mers have failed in getting exact re- sults from calculations based on the dynamical laws of gravitation is pos- sibly the existence of some attractive force that they haVe not Yet (liseov- cred, although the result may also be affected by the true shape of the earth, which still awaits accurate de- termination. fé‘a‘rs» ago, and the increase d‘u'r‘ing “the- amounted to half a longitude. The reas mers have failed in Not Yet Ammable to Astronomers’ Mathematics. All German shipping in allied ports to be conï¬scated. Kiel Canal to be internationalized. Rigorous justice to be meted out to all German criminals and arch- criminals. General von Bissing‘ to ‘be publicly executed prior to any [peace pour p'arlers. ’In winter the rise a a sign of frost. If you intend to ait till to-mor'L-ow. Military occupation of Berlin pend ing fulï¬lment of treaty. The German navy to be surrendered to the allies and distributed pro rata among them. Austria-Hungary to be dealt with as leniently as Russia's interests permit. Turkey to be leniently dealt with. N0 territory freed from German rule during the war in any part 01 the world to be returned to her. 110 Serbia's claims to be formulated by the Serbian Government. Italy to oblain Trieste and the Trentino. v Russia to be similarly compensated as Belgium and France, and to secure similar security against future ag- gression. France to be compensated on the same scale as Belgium. Alsace-Lorraine to be restored to France and such other territory as she may deem I‘lecessary for nationa} security. Belgium to be fully compensated by Germany for all losses she has sustained directly qr indirect]: through Germany's unprovoked at- tack. In addition to the amount 01 such losses to be ï¬xed by allied commissioners, the sum of £500,- 000,000 to be paid by Germany to Belgium. All enemy troeps t9 retire from all allied territories before any peace overtures be entertained. Some Demands Suggested by British National Review. Among preliminaries to peace sug- gested. by the “National Review" are; rthe followingz~ back, they will ï¬nd nothing but pen" haps a few fragments of his larger? bones and a heap of ashes. And some of these ashes they will take back to the hospital, where they will be put“ into a little wooden coffer bearing the‘ dead man’s name. And in time the. coffer will be sent to his family in India, and from the Sussex Downs his ashes will return home, to be sprink‘ led on the breast of some Indian stream. A torch made of straw and camphor: was lighted at this flame and applied to the four corners; melted ghee was poured here and there, and soon the whole pyre was ablaze. And while it! burned the mourners kept tossing upon it little pinches of ghee mixe with grains and fruits, scent, saï¬'ron‘ and spices. It will burn for long, and to-day.’ when the friefldsr of the dead man gOJ_ the ritual demands the right use oi four kinds of things: odoriferou things, nutritive things, sweet thixgs and curative medicines. Some ha been melting ghee, some preparing the raisins, the almonds, and other food When all was ready the body was laid. on the pyre, and over it and around i were heaped more and more blocks 0 wood and much straw. Then crystals" of camphor were lighted in a spoon o the end of a long pole, and when the were flaming well were poured on the; centre of the pyre. A flame leapt up! THE UNSTABLE MOON A LLIES' PEACE TERMS lo a mean thin the J are to d :1 rom (