New Ulm Enterprise (New Ulm, Tex.), Vol. 8, No. 20, Ed. 1 Friday, February 22, 1918 Page: 3 of 8
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NEW ULM ENTERPRISE, NEW ULM, TEXAS
5AEEP5
CLOTA1AG
LYDIA BEGINS TO SUSPECT HER FATHER OF DECEIVING
HER IN SOME MANNER AND SHE IS DEEPLY GRIEVED
—SOME MYSTERIOUS THING SCARES HIM
Synopsis—Lydia Craven, traveling as Lucy Carteret, runs away
from her English home to go to her father, Thaddeus Craven, in New
York, whom she hasn’t seen for five years. Three days out on boa_'d
the steamer Alsatia, she runs plump into Craven, making love to Mrs.
Merrilees, a young widow, engaged to marry him. Later Craven ex-
plains his mysterious conduct and supposed bachelorhood by telling
Lydia he is a British secret service agent in America. She is attacked
at night and a small box containing supposed valuable documents,
which he has given her to keep for him, is stolen. Quoin, an amateur
detective, recovers it for her, and when the party lands at New York,
Lydia, carrying the box openly, has no trouble passing the customs in-
spection. When Mrs. Merrilees declares a $60,000 necklace and the
inspector finds it an imitation worth $300, she is held and searched as a
smuggler. Despite past tricks, however, Mrs. Merrilees is honest this
time.
CHAPTER X—Continued.
—12—
After a brief conference he turned
back to Lydia and Peter. “A bad busi-
ness!” he doubted in an undertone,
wagging his head. "Betty’s played the
game straight as a die this trip; but
nothing on earth will make these peo-
ple believe that, after the way she’s
carried on in the past. Looks like an
jail-day session—no good your sticking
Iround: nothing either of you can do.
(Quoin and I will stand by Betty; but
you’d better cut along. You won’t mind
dropping Lydia at the Great Eastern
(hotel, Peter?”
“No—I won’t precisely what you
might call mind,” Peter declared,
•brightening.
"I engaged rooms by wireless yester-
day. It’ll take a day or two, you know,
to readjust my diggings to receive a
daughter. Now clear out-—like good
■children!”
Lydia bade hurried farewells. Giving
Quoin her hand, she hoped he wouldn’t
iforget to call, ’as he’d promised. Quoin
was perstiaded that such oversight
would be symptomatic of insanity. His
Tone was light; but his direct and pene-
trating gaze embarrassed the girl, and
•she was fluttered by consciousness that
her cheeks were unaccountably aglow,
ther fingers tremulous in his firm grasp.
Betty Merrilees offered a cool cheek
|to Lydia’s lips. “Don’t worry about
!me!” she protested pettishly. “Besides,
In your heart of hearts you believe fm
guilty—you know you do!”
“I don’t!” Lydia insisted, and in the
next breath, “You didn’t—honestly?”
Betty’s mood melted transiently.
"Honest Injun!” she declared with
mirth in her voice, but downright can-
dor in the eyes that held Lydia’s. “And
I don’t blame anyone for climbing up
■on the fence, either,” she added in
cryptic phrase, “all except these de-
spicable customs men!”
Peter’s town car was waiting at the
pier entrance, and when he had helped
her into it, Lydia, looking out through
the limousine door, viewed a section of
the throng of passengers waiting for
taxicabs, in the forefront of which
stood two men.
One faced her and first attracted at-
tention by his singularly persistent
stare—a stoutish body, by no means
tall, snug In a braided morning coat—
the London mode, glossy topper, white
spats and all, down to the silver-mount-
ed stick of malacca—wearing a humor-
ous eye in his square-jawed, scarlet
face—one who would readily pass cur-
rent as an elderly and retired gentle-
,man of means, with a penchant for
good cooking and outdoor life.
His companion, some Inches taller
ahd built upon more rakish lines, stood
half turned aside so that she could see
little more than the salient line of a
■dark, lean cheek, and a long and nar-
row back-head. But that was quite
enough to make her sit up with a start,
remembering that she had seen him
■once before in precisely that pose, out-
side the window of her stateroom. He
turned for a moment toward her bring-
ing to her view his right eye—covered
by a black patch!
Happily Peter chose that moment to
ollmb into the car, and so blocked out
the disturbing vision. On the other
hand, he was quick to note the evi-
dence of her distress.
“Hello!” he cried in deep concern.
■“What’s up? Surely you’re not feeling
111 I”
She shook her head vigorously, and
in heedless agitation raised a gloved
tiand and pointed. “Peter, who is that
man—the tall one, there, with the
black patch over his eye?”
“Which? Oh, I see!” Here the car
drew away, so that Black Patch was no
longer visible. “I’m not dead sure,"
Peter resumed, “but he looks a heap
like a chap Quoin pointed out in the
smoking room one night—one of a
brace of deep-sea sharks we had
aboard. Chap with a queer name—
Lefty—no, I’ve got it—Southpaw
Smith. Why do you ask? You cer-
tainly can’t know the fellow!”
Lydia sank back into her corner,
with a head awhirl. “No,” she said,
“no, I don’t know him. I—he—some-
how reminded me of something very
unpleasant.”
CHAPTER XI.
From the manner of the room clerk
Lydia inferred that tne name of Thad-
deus Craven was well esteemed by the
management of the Great Eastern. Nor
was this impression at all modified by
the rooms to which she was shown—a
suite so complete and luxurious in ap-
pointments that its appeal was strong
to the sybaritic strain with which
heredity had endowed the 'girl.
Toward six o’clock she dropped, worn
out, into an armchair beside an open
window in the living room. Wearily
the girl’s eyelids drooped. Insensibly
she drowsed, drifting into a sort of
hffifwaking nightmare, wherein she
with her father waged incessant war
against powers of darkness, shapeless,
featureless, inscrutably malign—
The last rays of the sinking sun flood-
ed her face, even as it impregnated her
dream, with the hue of blood. Twilight,
succeeding, caught together the gap-
ing arras of the sky. Minutes wove a
web of hours—
Abruptly Lydia found herself on her
feet, a low cry shuddering in her
throat, aware that the room was ablaze
with light, that she was no longer
alone. Then,, calming, she realized
nothing more terrible than Craven’s
return.
He stood near the center of the room,
staring, evidently at a loss to account
for her agitation, his face slightly
flushed yet lowering.
“Well?” he demanded sharply. “What
the deuce is the matter with you?”
“You—you startled me,” she fal-
tered with a tremulous smile. “I must
have fallen asleep, waiting for you—
and then I had a horrible dream—
Craven’s look swept her from head
to foot, captious and ugly. “You
haven’t dressed,” he said—meaning
that she hadn’t changed for dinner.
“Been asleep long?”
“Why—some hours, I presume. What
time is it? It was just sunset, the last
I knew.”
“After nine o’clock now. Then you’ve
had no dinner?”
Lydia shook her head. “I was wait-
ing for you.”
“You shouldn’t have,” he grumbled..
“Thought I told you not to count on
me. I’ve been busy of course, flying
round all afternoon, getting Betty set-
tled. Otherwise should have been home
long ago.”
"I have been worried about Betty—
Mrs. Merrilees—”
“Oh, that business!” He smiled
grimly. “It was over sooner than I ex-
pected. Unpleasant for her—to submit
to being searched by a female inspec-
tor. But of course they found nothing,
and had to let her go. And now she’s
threatening all manner of trouble.”
“Then the necklace was really
stolen? I’m so sorry!”
“Yes.” Craven eyed her curiously
for an instant "Yes, it was stolen,
right enough, and a clean-cut iob, if
, - you ask me. The thief must have been
laying for somebody to buy the thing.
He had the counterfeit all ready, of
course.”
“But that’s what I don’t understand.”
“Simplest thing in the world.
Chance Is he found the copy ready made
to his hand. Nine out of ten of these
smart Frenchwomen, like the original
owner of the collar, have their best
pieces duplicated in paste for public
wear. Somehow or other he must have
got hold of that. The only question is,
when did he make the substitution?
Betty swears it was the genuine ar-
ticle she received, and it hasn’t been
out of her possession since, except
while in the purser’s safe, and when 1
brought it to her, up there in the
veranda cafe, day before yesterday.
Looks as if it was up to the purser—
unless you care to point the well-known
finger of suspicion at me—or Peter!”
“How absurdI”
“Think so? Well, I’m glad you do.
my dear.” His humor had softened.
Drawing near, he pinched her cheek
affectionately. “Not that there’s any
reason for you to worry. Only, if Betty
still wants to play Lady Bountiful at
your wedding, she’ll have to disburse
the price of another necklace.”
“Daddy! As if I thought of that I”
“Probably you don’t, being yourself.
Still—you’ll marry some day, and pearl
collars don’t grow. on every bough of
orange blossoms.”
“I’m not thinking of being married,”
Lydia murmured, looking away.
“Oh, I presume not—no more than
the next girl of your age! Nothing do-
ing with Peter Traft, eh?”
“Oh, daddy ! Don’t be silly I”
Lydia met his gaze fairly and hon-
estly, laughter in her eyes, and Craven
accepted her disclaimer without ques-
tion.
“Well, I’m sorry for Peter. He’s a
good boy—well off too. And he’s mighty
strong for you. Mustn’t let yourself be
misled by Peter’s reputation. Just be-
cause he’s got the name of a gay young
butterfly is no real reason why he
shouldn’t be in dead earnest this time.”
“I wish you wouldn’t say such
things.”
“Well—don’t forget him, when you
do come to think of marrying. And,”
Craven dismissed the subject airily, “of
course you would be happier as mis-
tress of your own establishment than—
well—playing second fiddle in mine.”
Had he slapped her the girl could
hardly have suffered deeper pain and
humiliation. He wanted to be rid of
her I That truth was out at last. How-
ever kindly Craven’s primal Impulse to
deceive, the time had come when he
could or would no longer dissemble.
Her thoughts worked swiftly. Since
he found her a drag, she must cease to
be such at once—instantly—tonight.
Until she could find some wray to be-
come self-supporting the hospitable
doors of Mrs. Beggarstaff’s home of-
fered a haven where Lydia felt sure
of finding a welcome, sympathy, affec-
tion.
With a brisk tread and a cheerful
countenance Craven returned to the sit-
ting room. “Hello! What’s troubling
my girl? Something on your mind, eh?”
She eyed him gravely. “Do you real-
ly want me to marry Peter Traft?” she
demanded.
“Why consult my desires? You’ll do
as you please anyway—just as I did at
your age. It’s a good match, and if you
find you care enough for the young-
ster,” he raised his hands in mock bene-
diction, “bless you, my children! But
—upon my word!—never can tell about
you women. Only two minutes ago—”
“That was when I still believed you
wanted me with you, when I thought 1
might be a help to you, not an obstacle
in the path of your happiness. Better
to marry at once—the first bidder—and
repent too late, if that must be—than
to know I’m in your way.”
“Liddy, my dear little girl!” The
tone was fond, the smile indulgent; but
with sharpened vision she saw through
the pretense.
“No !” she cried passionately. “No!
Don’t—don’t waste time trying to de-
ceive me, datyiy!”
Turning she stumbled blindly into
her bedroom, shut the door, and threw
herself across the bed, sobbing.
After some time the door latch
clicked. “Liddy!”
The girl made no answer. She
couldn’t; she was struggling to hush,
her sobs.
“Liddy!” Craven came to her side,
and seated himself on the bed. “Little
girl,” he said, with melancholy, “you’ve
hurt me terribly, misjudged me so
cruelly. But no matter. I realize that
you don’t understand.”
He touched her hajr caressingly. She
suffered this without response. To-
night her wits were keyed to a pitch of
divination. Beneath the cloying ten-
derness in his accents she read the
truth too clearly.
“I’ve just telephoned for dinner. It’ll
be up presently, and I want you to try
to eat something. Get up, please, and
dry your eyes, compose yourself, and
be fair to me.”
“Very well,” Lydia said stiffly, with-
out stirring:
With a final approving pat Craven
rose. “Thank you, my dear,” he said
gently. He sighed, moved toward the
door, but there paused. “By the way,"
he observed carelessly, “that thing I
gave you the other night—the puzzle
box—it is safe, I presume?'
I “Yes,” said Lydia, sitting up. "Ho
you want it?”
“If convenient.”
Without another answer she rose and
went to the bureau, found her hand-
bag, produced the puzzle box, and
silently, with averted face, gave it to
her father.
His footsteps were audible crossing
the sitting room. Then she heard him
closing his bedchamber door.
With some effort Lydia pulled her-
self together, rose, bathed her face and
eyes with cold water, then sought her
mirror to survey and repair as best she
could the ravages of tears.
Do you suspect Craven of be-
ing up to some trickery? Wny
should he become grouchy to his
daughter? There is a big devel-
opment of the story in the next
installment.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
SMOKED HIS CIGAR BY PROXY
Bismarck Gave Cherished “Weed" to
Wounded Soldier and Enjoyed
Watching Man's Contentment.
With all his brusqueness and even,
at times, brutality, Bismarck, says
Frederick Marvin, had much of the
“live-and-let-liVe” philosophy, and it
humanized him so that men loved him
and willingly followed after him. The
story of the last cigar at Koeniggratz
illustrates what has been said, says
the Yorkshire (Eng.) Post.
“The value of a good cigar," said
Bismarck, as he proceeded to light an
excellent Havana, “is best understood
when It is the last you possess and
there is no chance of getting another.
At Koeniggratz I had only one cigar
left in my pocket, which I carefully
guarded during the whole of the bat-
tle, as a miser does his treasure. I
did not feel justified in using it.
“I painted in glowing colors in my
mind the happy hour when I should
enjoy it 'after the victory. But I mis-
calculated my chances. And what was
the cause of my miscalculations? A
poor dragoon. He lay helpless, with
both arms crushed, asking for some-
thing to refresh him. I felt in my
pockets and found only gold, and that
would be of no use to him. But stay,
I had still my treasured cigar! I
lighted this for him and placed it be-
tween his teeth. You should have seen
the poor fellow’s grateful smile! I
never enjoyed a cigar so much as
that one which I did not smoke.”
An Odd Collision. '
“One would imagine it to be safe, in
preparing a list of improbabilities, to
include such a thing as a collision be-
tween an airplane and a steam roller,”
says the Popular Mechanics Magazine.
“A rear-end crash of two so utterly dif-
ferent machines seems extremely in-
congruous. And yet this is precisely
what occurred not .long ago at an avi-
ation field near Buffalo, N. Y. The
steam roller was being used on the
turf when an airman attempted to
make a landing. In doing this he either
micalculated the relative positions of
his craft and the heavy roller, or be-
came ‘object struck,’ for the nose of
the plane was plunged with consider-
able force against the rear of the other
machine. Fortunately no one was bad-
ly injured, but the propeller of the air-
craft was broken, the landing gear
wrenched, and the radiator smashed.”
TO ALL WOMEN
WHO ARE ILL
This Woman Recommends
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vege-
table Compound—Her
Personal Experience*
Me Learn Neb.—“I want to recom-
mend Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable
Compound to all
women who suffer
from any functional
disturbance, as it
has done me more
Since taking it I
have a fine healthy
baby girl and have
gainedin health and
strength. My hus-
band and I both
praise your med-
icine to all suffering
women.”—Mrs. John Koppelmann, R,
No. 1, McLean, Nebraska.
This famous root and herb remedy,
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com-
pound has been restoring women of
America to health for more than forty
years and it will well pay any woman
who suffers from displacements, in-
flammation, ulceration^ irregularities,
backache, headaches, nervousness or
“the blues” to give this successful
remedy a trial.
For special suggestions in regard to
Sour ailment write Lydia E. Pinkham
ledicine Co., Lynn, Mass. The result
of its long experience is at your service.
One Treatment
withCuticura
Clears Dandruff
Soap 25c. Ointment 25 and 50c.
NOT QUITE WHAT THEY MEANT
Frenchman and German Alike Too Lit-
eral in Their Use of an Un-
familiar Language.
The lateral translation of words and
grammatical construction of sentences
In the different languages is produc-
tive of some very amusing situations.
A gentleman whose wife was noted
for her domesticity was seated next to
a Frenchman at a dinner party,... De-
siring to compliment his neighbor and
enter into conversation, he remarked:
“Your wife, she is very homely.”
But it remained for a German ho-
telkeeper to cap the climax. Having
taken a trip on a train he was much
Impressed by the brakeman calling
“Next station----. Don’t forget your
packages.” Desiring to save himself
the annoyance of forwarding articles
left by departing guests, but mixing
his English - words with his German
grammar, he put up a sign where it
could not be missed by them:
“Walt! Look! Have you anything
leftI”
------------ W
Becomes a General Nuisance.
“De man dat’s always bossin’
around,” said Uncle Eben, “is liable
to git folks so interested dat dey neg-
lects deir work to listen to him talk.”
Kind words are never lost—but they
are frequently mislaid.
To Close London Churches.
The City of London will have forty
or fifty of its churches closed in the
near future, till after the war, as a re-
sult of the bishop’s scheme for releas-
ing clergy for national war work.
There are now only about 20,000 peo-
ple resident in the city (the central
portion of the whole municipality), and
if present plans go through, only eight
churches will be kept open for their
use.
To Explain Russian Mineral Deposits.
An important geological expedition
is to be undertaken by Russian sci-
entists into the mountainous region
of Juban, South Caucasus, for the ex-
ploration of mineral beds there. It
is hoped that the expedition will be
able to recommend the exploitation of
extensive beds of coal and certain
rare minerals. The expedition will be
led by M. Androussov, a well-known
Russian geologist.
No Use For Them.
Richard, aged four, accompanied by
his mother, was watching a regiment
of soldiers, headed by its band, march-
ing by. “Mamma,” he asked, “what’s
the use of all them soldiers that don’t
make music?”
Playing Safe.
Eusebius was told by his mamma
not to stay to meals at his aunt’s with-
out asking her. He was invited to
dinner and his aunt said she would
ask his mamma by phone. He said:
“Don’t ask her, tell her."
And Pay Dearly.
The road to ruin is kept in good re-
pair at the expense of those who travel
over it—Cincinnati Times-Star,
A Baked
Cereal Food
Different from the usual
run of toasted or steam-
cooked cereals,
Grape-Nuts
is baked in giant ovens—
baked for nearly twenty
hours under accurate con-
ditions of heat, so that the
whole wheat and malted
barley flours may develop
their full, rich sweetness.
You don’t need sugar on
Grape-Nuts,
“There’s a Reason”
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Bartay, Albert. New Ulm Enterprise (New Ulm, Tex.), Vol. 8, No. 20, Ed. 1 Friday, February 22, 1918, newspaper, February 22, 1918; New Ulm, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1193402/m1/3/: accessed July 10, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Nesbitt Memorial Library.