The Anderson daily intelligencer. (Anderson, S.C.) 1914-1915, July 12, 1914, Section Two: Pages 9 to 16, Image 9
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 ^