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Pages 9 to 16 mee? $5.00 PER ANNUM ?pio.oim for 10? Words. Thc |)ublicatiun of thc "Million Dollar Mystery" begins today. Tho story will run for twenty-two conscc tlvc weeks In this paper. By an ar-, rangement with the Thanhouser Film company, it has been made possible not only to read thc story in this pa per but also to see it each week In Hie various moving picture theatres For the solution of the mystery story, $10,000 will be given. Conditions Governing the ('oiliest Tim prize of $10,000 will be won by thc man, woman or child who writes thc most acceptable solution of the mystery, from which the last two reels of motion picture drama will bc made and the la3t two chapters of the story written by Harold MacGrath. Solutions may be sent to thc Than houser Film Corporation, either at chicago or New York, any time up to midnight, Dec. 14. They must bear postohlcc mark not later than that date. This allows four weeks after the first appearance of thc last film re leases and three weeks after the last chapter is published ia this paper, in which to submit solutions. A board of three judge will deter mine which of the maay solutions re ceived is tlic moBt acceptable. Thc Judgment of this board will be abso lute and final. Nothing of a literary ?nature will be considered in the de cision, nor given any preference in thc selection of a winner of the $10,000 prise. Thc last two reels, which will give the most acceptable solution to the mystery, will be presented In the theatres having this feature as sooa as it it practicul to produce same. Thc story corresponding to these mo tion pictures will apocar in the news papers coincidentally, or as poor after the appearance of the picture as prac tical. With the last two reels will be shown the picture of the winner, his or her home, and other interesting features. It It? understood that thc newspaper, so fat as practical, ' in printing thc last two chapters of the story by Hi rold MacGrath, will also rhow a picture of the. auccessful Con testant. Solutions to the mystery must not be more ttmn 100 words long. Here ure tome questions to be kept in mind in connection with the mystery ar an aid to a solution. No. 1.-What becomes of thc mil lionaire ft 2.-What becomes of the $1,000, 000? No. 3.-Whom docs Florence mar ry? No. 4.-What becomes ot the UUB sinn countess? Nobody connected directly or In directly with tho "Million Dollar Mystery" will be considered as a con testant. (Copyright: 1014: By Harold Mac Grath. CHAPTER I. A Call In the Night. There are- few things darker than a country road at night, particularly if one docs not know the lay of the land. It is not difficult to traverse a knoWn path; no matter how dark lt is, one is able to And thc way by aid of a mental photograph taken in thc daytime. But supposing you have never been over a road in the day time, that you know nothing whatever of Its topography where lt dips or ris es, where it narrows or forks. You And yourself in the same unhappy state of mind as a blind man sudden ly thrust into a strange house. One black night along a long coun try road, in the heart, ot New Jersey, in the days when the old country roads were city thoroughfares and country highways were routes to lim bo, a carriage went forward cautious ly. From time to time it careened like a blunt nosed barge in a beam sea. Thc Wheels, and springs voiced their anguish - continually for it was a good carriage, unaccustomed to such ruts and humocka. "Faster, faster," same a muffled voice from the Interior, "Sir, I dare not.drive any faster," replied the coachman. "I can't see the Horses' heads, sir, let alone the road. I've blown out the lamps, but I can't see the road any better for that." - " . . "Let the horses have their heads; they'll find the way. It can't be much farth?r. You'll .Bee lights." The coachman swore in bis teeth. AU right. This man-who was in such a hurry would probably send them all into the ditch. Save for the few stars above, he might have been driv ing Beelzebub'a coach in the.Bottom less Pit. Black velvet, everywhere ! black velvet. ? A 1 wind waa blowing and yet the blnckr CSB waa so thick that it gate to thib coachman a mild: sensation of suffocation. By and by through the trees, he saw a mild flicker of light., It might or it might not be the destination. , He cracked hie whip recklessly and the carriage lurched on two wheels.-The > man in the carriage balanced himself carefully, so that the bundle in his arms should not be unduly disturbed. His arms ached. He. stuck bis bead , ont of the window, ., "Tuat'a, the place,*?/ he said. VAnd a G-i THE. INTT2COUOTI0NS \* when you drive up, make ns little noise as possible." "Yep, sir," called down the driver. Witch the carriage drew up at the journey's end the man inside jumped out und listened toward the gatos. He scrutinized the rign on one ot the posts. This wns the place. Miss Farlow's Private School. Thc bundle in his arms stirred a'ud. he hui ried up thc path to ihe house. . He seized the ancient knocker and j struck several times. He then placed the bundle on the steps and ran back to thc waiting carriage, into which he f.tepped. "Off with you." "That's n good word. sir. Maybe we can make your train." "Do you think you could find this place again?" "You couldn't get me on this pike again, sir, for a thousand; not mel" Thc door slammed and the unknown sank back against thc cushions. He took out his handkerchief und wiped thc damp perspiration from his fore head. The big burden was off his mind. Whatever happened ii the fu ture, they would never be' ai,lC to get, hloi through his heart. Sp much for the folly of his youth. lt was a quarter af'.er 10. Miss Susan Farlow had Jut?t returned to the reception room from her nightly tour of thc upper halls to see if all ht - charges were in bed, where the rules of the school confined them after It was at this moment that she heard the thunderous knocking ni the door. The old maid felt her heart stop beat ing for a mooieot. Who could it be. at this time of night? Then the thought came swiftly that perhaps the parent or some one of her charges was ill and this was the summons. Stilling her fearr., she went resolutely to the door and opened it. There was no one in sight. "Who is it?" Bite called. No one answered. She cupped her hand to her ear. She could hear thc clatter of horses dimly. ."Well!" she exclaimed; rather an grily, too. She was in the act of clos ing the door when the light from the hall discovered to her the bundle on the steps. She stooped and touched lt. "Good heavens, It's n child!" She picked the bundle up. A whim per -came from lt. a tired little whim per of protest. She ran back to the reception room. A foundling! And on her doorstep! It was incredible. What in the world should she do? It would create a scandal and hurt the prestige of the school. Some one had mistaken her select private school for a farmhouse. It was frightful. . Then she unwrapped tho child. It was .about a year old, dimpled and golden haired. A thumb was in its rosebud mouth and its blue eyes look ed up trustfully into her own. - *j "Why, your cherub 1" cried the old maid, a. strange turmoil in- her heart. She caught the child'to her breast, an then Cor thc first time noticed the thick envelope pinned to the child's cloak. She put the baby into a chair and broke open the envelope. "Name this child Florence Gray. I will rend annually a liberal sum for her Support and reclaim her on-her eighteenth birthday., The other half of the enclosed bracelet will identify me. Treat the girl well.' for I shall watch over her Jhi secret." Into -the fixed' routine of her hum drum lifo had /?orne a myst cry, a tanta lising, fasomating mystery. 8he had read of foundlings left on dcor.3teps4? from paper covered novele confiscated illion by H /E.GE. M/ :X*. NO?TON FLU" BATHEJ? CA?A from her pupils- but that ono should he placed upon her own i espectable doorstep! Suddenly she smiled dowu ht tho child and thc child smiled back. And there wa? nothing more to bc done except to bow before the decrees of fete. Like all prim old maids, her heart was full of unrequited romance, an? MTc was ucmuthing she might sp t.d,its" floods upon without let or hindrance. Already she was hoping that the man or woman who had left it might never come bael;. The child grew Regularly each year, upon a certain date. Miss Furlow received a registered letter with money. These letters came from all parts of the wot ld; always tho same sum, always the same line-"I am watching." Thus' seventeen years passed; and to Susan Farlow each year seemed shorter than tho ene before. For she loved the child with all her heart. She had not trained young girls all these yearn without becoming adept in thc ort of reading the true signs of breeding. There was no ordinary blood in Florence; thc fact was em phasized by her exquisite face, her small hands and feet, her spirit aud gentleness. And now, at any day, some one with a broken bracelet might como for her. As thc days weut on thc heart of Susan Fal low grew heavy. I "Never mind, aunty." said Florence; ; "I shall always come back to see.you." She meant it, poor child; but how j was she to know the terrors which lay | yonder, beyond the horizon? The house of Stanley Hargreave, in Riverdale, was tho house of no ordi nary rich man. Outside it was simple enough, but inside you learned what kind of a man Hargreave was. There were rare Ispahans and Saruks on the floors and tapestries on thc walls, with herc and there a fine painting. The library Itself represented a fortune. Money had been Md out lavishly but never wastefully: It was the home of a Bcholar, a dreamer, a wide traveler. In thc library stood the master of the house, busy fingering some papers which loy on the study table. He shrugged at some unpleasant thought, settled his overcoat about his shoul ders, to?k up his hat, and walked from j the room, frowning slightly. The but- I 1er, who also acted in the capacity of I valet, always within call when his j master was about, Btepped swiftly to thc hall door and opened it. "I may bo out late, Jones," said Har greave. "Yes, sir." Hargreave stared Into his face keen ly, as if trying to pierce the grove face to learn what was going on behind it. "How long have you been with me?" "Fourteen years, sir." "Some Qay I shall need you." "My life, baa always been nt your disposal, slr, since that'night you res cued it." "Well, I haven't the least doubt that when I ask you will give." "Without question, sir. It was al ways so understood." Hargreave's glance sought the mir ror, then the smileless face of his man. He laughed, bul the sound conveyed no Dense of mirth; then he turned and went down the steps slowly, like a man burdened with some thought which was not altogether to his liking. He had sent an order for his car. but had. immediately countermanded it. }|e would walk tilt he grew tired, hail a taxicab, and take a run up and down Broadway. ' The wonderful illumina tion might prove diverting. For eigh teen years nearly; and now it was as AROLD M'GR? ML SC?U natural for Ulm to ?brow a glance over his Shoulder whenever he left the house as it was for him to breathe. The average niau would have grown careless during all there veins, but Hargreuve was not au average man; he was, rather, an extraordinary indi vidual. It was hit- life lu exchange for eternal vigilance, and he knew and ac cepted the fact. Half an hour later he got into a tax icab and directed the man to drive downtown as far as Twenty-third street and back to Columbus circle. The bewildering display of lights, however, in nowise served to lift the sense of oppression that had weighed upon him all day. South of Forly-sec on street he dismissed the tuxlcab and stared undecidedly at the brilliant sign of a famous restaurant. He was neither hungry nor thirsty; but there would be strange faces to study and music. lt was an odd whim. He had not en tered a Broadway restaurant in all these years. Ho wus ?unknown. He belonged to no clubs. Two months was the longest he hud ever remained in New York sinco the disposal of his old home in Madison avenue and bi? resignation from his clubs. This once, then, he would break the law ho had written down for himself. Boldly he entered the restaurant. Some time berore Hargreave sur- ' rendered to the restless spirit of re bellion, bitterly to repent for it Int IT, lhere came Into this restaurant a man und a woman. They were both evi dently well known, for the head wait -r was obsequious aud hurried them over to tho best table he had left and took the order himself. The mun possessed a keen, intelli gent face. You might have marked bim for a successful lawyer, fo.* ?aere v.-a s an earnestness about his expres sion, which precluded u life of idleness. His age might have been anywhere between 40 and 50. Tho shoulders were brood and the hands which lay clasped upon the table were slim, but muscu lar. Indeed, everything about him suggested hidden strength and vitality. His companion was small, handsome, and animated.. . Her frequent gestures and rautuabie eyebrows betrayed hei foreign hirth. Her age was a matter of importance to no one but hcrsel.'. They were at coffee 'wheo sim said : "There's a young man coming tow.'id us. He IR looking at you." The man turned. Instantly his Mee lighted up with a friendly smile o? re cognition. "Who is lt?" she asked. "A chap worth knowing; a reporter Just a little out of the ordinary. I'm TH. going lo introduce him. You ?it*\i r . <;ii! tell Wo. might need li??i nie ; tiny. Ah, Norton, how uro you .'" .'Too'! vening. Mr. Ulallie." Tko n poi u i. catching sigh) ol ?1 pair r.f dazzling eyer, in ..inn.-i. The I'lncess Kerlson" Norton. You're in Norry, aro you? "N01 now,' smiled the reporter. "Ah!" Kuli] Hie princess. Interested. lt was the old compliment, said in an i unusual way. lt pleased lier. The report Trank into a chair. When j inactive he was rather a dreamy-eyed j sort of :i chap. He po?scaned that raro accomplishment of talking upon! one subject and thinking apon 11 net ll-! er al the .same time. So, wliilo ho' talked gaily with Hie young woman on varied themes, Iiis thoughts Acre busy sp?cul?ti'li; ii|ion her companion. Ile was tpiite criain Hint the natue limine was assumed, bul he '.vat ulso' equally cerlain that the mein carried an. extraordinary brain under hts thatch of salt and pepper hair. Tb? man had written three or four bril liant monographs on poisons and the uses of radium and it was through and by these that the reporter bad managed to pick up !:is acquaintance He lived well, but inconspicuously. Suddenly the pupil.' of llraine's eyes narrowed; the. tye became cold. Over the smoke of bis cigarette he was looking into the wall miror. A man had passed behind him and sat down at the next table. ?Still .gazing Into the mirror, Draine saw Norton waves his hand; saw also the open wonder on the reporter's pleasant face. "Who ls your friend, Norton?" Draine asked indifferently* his head still unturned. "Stanley Hargreave. Met him In Hong Kong when I was stint over to handle n part of the revolution. War correspondence stuff. Flr*t Hmo I ever ran neross bim on Broadway at night. We've since had some po . wows over some r.tre books. Queer old cock; brave as a Hon but as quiet as a mouse." "Bookish, eh My kind. Bring him over." Unnderneath the table Draine maneuvered to touch the foot of the princess. "I don't know," said the reporter du biously. "He might say no. and that would embarrass the whole lot of UR. Ho's .1 bit of a hennit. I'm surprised to see him hore." "Try." urged the princess. "I like to meet men who are hermits." "I haven't, the least doubt about that," the reporter laughed. 'Til try; but. don't blame me If I'm re buffed." Ile left the table with evident re luctance and approached Hargreave. The two shook hands cordially, for the elder man was rainer rond of this medley of information known as Jim Norton. "Sit down, by! sit down. You're Just the kind of p man I've been wanting to talk to tonight." "Wouldn't you rather talk to a pret ty woman?" * "I'm nn old man." "Bah! That's a hypocritical bluff, and you know it. My friends ut thc next table have asked me to bring you over." "I do not usually care to meet strangers." "Make an exception this once." said the reporter, who bad seen llraine's eyes change and was curious to know why the appearance of Hargreave lu thc mirror hud brought about that inulully gleam. Hore won? two ?ml:|uo j mon; he desired (<> see them face to!? rae?. j i "This ?nue. My fjnilt; I ought not to I lin Item; I feel out of pince. What n't life, though, you reporters lend! To ] meet kim;'; ami presidents und great i Ilnuneiers, t-oclalisls mid nnurchlsts, the whole pealo of lifo, and to slap',! these people on the back ns if they, wei" everyday friends"" ?1 "'Now you're making fun of me. For one king there are ii I Way s twenty ?i:;: !; toolam ready to hick me uuwn j the steps; dont' forget that." Hargreave laughed. "Come, then; let us get ii over with." Tho Introduction!* wore made. Nor- ; iou fell radier chagrined. So far as lie could see, the two men were total strangers. Well, it was all in tho game. Nine out of ton opportunities for the big story were fako alarms; |i hut lie was always witling to risk the labor those nine entailed for the Buke of the tenth. I At length Undue glanced nt Iiis watch and the princess nodded. Adieus were said, inside the taxi- j cab limine leaned back with a deep, audible sigh. j "What it is?" she asked. "The luck of tho devil's own," he said.1 "Child o ftito. Steppes, for years I've flown about seas and continents,1 through valleys and over mountains-. for what? Kor the sight of the face ' of that man wc have just left. At ?the next time you see that reporter,! ? lirst glance I wasn't sure; but the I sound of his \oice was enough. Olga,' throw your urms around his neck' nnd IC?S?; him. What did Hell you? I Without Norton's help I would not ?have been sure. I'm going to leave, jyoti at your apartment." ? I "The man of the Black Iinndred'r", I sim whispered. j "The man who deserted and defied tho Black Hundred, wno broke lils j vows, and never paid a kopeck fori the privilege; the man who hud been appointed for tho supreme work and who ran away. In those days we need ed men of his stamp and to accom plis:! this end. . . * "There wus a woman." She interr upted with touch of bitterness. "Always the woman. And she was as ( lever and handsome as you aro." "Thanks. .Sometimes. . * ." "Ah, yes!" Ironically. "Sometimes you wisli you could settle down, mur ; ry, ami have a family! Your doim?s Iticlty would last about a month." j She made no retort because she rec iognlzed the truth of thia statement. "There's an emerald I know of," he said ruminatively. "It's quito possible that you may be wearing it within a few day?." "I am mad over them. There ia something in the green stone th.it fas cinates me. I can't, resist it." "That's because, somewhere in the far past, your ancestors wero orient als. Hero we arc. I'll sec you to morrow. I must hurry. (?ood night." She stood on the clurb for a niomont around a corner. Tho man held ncr ?nd watched the taxicab till it whirled with a fascination more terrible than ' any Jewel. She knew him to bo a \ groat and daring rogue, cunning, pa tient, fearless. ' I*acked away in that ' mind of his there were a thousand ac* compllshed deeds which had roused futilely the police of two continents Hraine! She could have laughed. The very name he had chosen was an insolence directed nt society. The subject of her thoughts soon wy arrived al his destination. A flight of stairs carried him into a dimly lighted hall, uuicltlug evilly of Cttcap1 iug gas. Ile donned a black mask ind struck the duor with ti series of light blows; two, then one. then thr"o, md again one. The door opened and lie slipped Inside. Kount! a tuble sat several men. also masked. They were all tried and trusted rogues; but m t one of them knew what Uraloo looked like. He alone remained un known save to the man designated as Ibo chief, who wa* only Braille's ilou t< i:.iii< The mink wa-, the jusigniu nf ti.i' Iliack llundwl, an oi.vunisalion wii.h nil the ramlll al'o'is of the Ca in.>:ii without their abiding stupidity. I'I-'IT Hie nssusBiirVnu of a klug, il nw ti lo the robbery of a louutry post, oiliee, nothing was too groat or too small tor their nets. Their god dwell-- in the heart of all men and ls called Creed. T!u> ordinary husin.-ss over, the chief dismissed the men, mid bc und Ht niue alone remained. "Vroon, I have found bim," said Bra I ne. "There are but few; which one?" "Eighteen years ago, lu St. Peters burg." "I remember. The millionaire's son. Did be recognize you?" "1 don't know. Probably he did. Hut lie always bad good nerve*. Ile is being followed at this moment. We shall strike quick,; for If be rec ognized me he will r*ct quick. He ls ? cool and brave. Y.n. rnmembi- how In: braved u.i that night In Itut.sta. Jumped bold'y UiiO'.tgh tho window at the risk of breaking bis neck. He landed safely; that ls tho only reason he eluded us. Millions; aud they slipped through our fingers. If I could only find somo route to his heart! The lure we held out to him io dead." Or in the fortress, which ls the finnie thing. What are your plans?" "1 have in' mind bom e thing like ... this." ? m ; And H-.rprciives WOB working out his plans, too; and he was just as mu2,1 of a general BS Br;t'rf*. He Fat al his library tnble, tii? mr.x"ln:y muscles in lils jaws working. So they had found him. Well, he had brokrn tho luw of Ills own hlak'.n^ hud li-? must ?-i-'0 r the co;i*!i?quencos. Hralne. who vas Menshilto.'f in Ria s'a. Schwartz lu Germany. Men-!?.?a in Spain. fart-'cel in Ha' '. aud Du Hoi. in Cr.ncc; so the rogue had found him out? Pour fool that ho had been' high spirited, full of those youthful dreams of doing good in tho world, ne had joined wim; he had be lieved u great secret socialist!; move ment, to learn that he hud boen trap ped by a nan tl of brillluni thieve*. Kidnappers ann assassinators for hire Ci! Illack ".lunorcd; 'hen ls from Tro phot! For :>e:?ily eighteen years be ha'' eluded t u ni; for ho kre?* that di rectly or Indirectly they would never cease to hunt fer him; and an idle whim bud ton lcd him iuto tbolr clutches He wrote several letters feverishly. Tim iast A*as ch!i-esscd Miss Susan Furlow and read: "Dear Madnn.: Scud Florence Gray to New York, to Send Florence Gray to Naw York, to arrive here brlday mo.'ali,^. Alj half of thc bracelet will bo identifica tion. Inclosed find .oash to square accounts." He would get together all his available funds, recover his child, and fly to the endB of the world. He would tire them out. They would , find that the peaceful dog was a bad animal to rouse. He rang for tho faithful Jones. "Jones, they have found me," lie said simply. "You will need me. then?" "Quite possible. Please mall these and then we'll talk it over. No doubt some ono is watching outside. Bo careful." "Very good, slr." Hargreaves bowed his head In his hand. Many times he had Journeyed to the school and hung about the gates straining his eyes toward tho merry group of young girls. Which among them wns his, heart of his heart, blood of bis blood? That she might tiever bc drawn into tills abom inable tangle, he had resolutely torn her out of his life completely. The happiness of watching the child grow into girlhood he had denied himself. She at least would be safe. Oui/ when she was safe In a far country would he dare tell ber. He tried toi vain tn conjuro up a picture of her; he always saw tho mother whom ho had loved and hated with all the ardor of his youth. Mnny things happened the next day. There waa a visit to the hangar of one William Orts, the aviator, famous for his daredevil exploits. There wore two visitors in fact, and the sec ond visitor was knocked down for bia - pains. He had tried to bribe Orts. There were several excited bankers, who protested against euch large withdrawals without the usual for mal announcement. But a check was a check and they ii ad to pay. Hargreave ^covered a good deal of ( Continued on JPoge ^