The Chillicothe Constitution-Tribune from Chillicothe, Missouri on September 15, 1906 · Page 4
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The Chillicothe Constitution-Tribune from Chillicothe, Missouri · Page 4

Chillicothe, Missouri
Issue Date:
Saturday, September 15, 1906
Page 4
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CHILUCOTHE CONSTITUTION SEPT. 15 1906 -~'m^ ; ^- w NO. I COOKS FOR NO 2 Danville, Va., Sept. • supper THERE'S MANY * eve in.ghcjsts?" emanded (Jrocker* suddenly. " Billy Travers laughed. We;*' he declared. "f never met but I know lots of people who 'I thorfght you were level-headed," nerited 1 Crocker. "This is no joke, "Neither is a ghost," answered "^rers. "What's the matter, any- r ay?'> / "You remember that private de; /*fctive I had here a month or so '.".ago?" K "That little fellow with the sharp igyes? T S he a g h Os t now?" ^^^No, but he believes in them," de- cl^gd Crocker. "Read that." Rethrew a letter across the table land TrS-vers caught it up. It covered ja dozen\typewritten pages detailing :iis experiences in a haunted house land declaring his unwillingness to prosecute further search. "Reads like*-a story," suggested "Travers as he paBRBd the letter back. "But where do you come in on this proposition?" "I own it," groaned Crocker. "I paid nearly half a million for it and ean't live there. I don't think it's _«hosts but I'd give ten thousand to ,find out what it really is." "Let me try a visit," said Travers. I think I'd like a new sensation." Crocker's face cleared. "I didn't like to ask you," he explained, "but » * think a clever chap like you would i* an d the mystery." f< "Thanks for" the compliment. When does the investigation be- soon as you're ready," said "and I'll never forget it, it if you succeed." I hope some day to ask you an im-~ 'Portent question," said Travers ~* 1F " "Will you remember irocker nodded and stretched his 4 across the table. The other it for a moment and then rose and passed into the draw- room, where Travers took the opportunity of coaxing Beth ir to the piano where, under of her playing, he explained chance that had come to him. 's the chance I've been looking he whispered. "I'll lay this and come back for you. He shook hands on .it." But a week later he was forced to j confess to himself that he was not so sure. A day with the caretaker and his tales had had its effect and he sat before the fire in the library and wondered what it all meant. The house was a magnificent one, built by an eccentric character who. to insure privacy hud bought up a dozen abandoned farms on one of the New Hampshire hills. He had died shortly after the nous; had been completed and since then j only his old valet could be found who would live in the house. Many had tried, but generally a single night was enough. The detectives j had remained only two. "I can stand it," explained the j caretaker, "because I live in the j stable. Nobody can live in the house " ' "Well, I'll try it for a. while," declared Travers. "I rather think I shall enjoy meeting ghosts, Le Brun." The caretaker had smiled and had taken his departure as soon as the evening meal had been eaten. LeBrurs | was a Frenchman and Travers as- ' sured himself that it would be worth while holding on if only to enjoy the cooking. He had foxind an odd volume on the dusty library shelves and was deep in his reading when a gust, of cold wind swept across him and the room grew suddenly dark, ii was all over in a second. The electric lights were glowing brightly and everything was as it had been before. It was not a draft, for the air was, cold and smelled of the earth. He [ rose and passed into the hall. As he did so the lights suddenly went out and at the end of the hall there sprang into sight a likeness of himself which gradually turned to grisly bone. There was the same cold, earthly gust of wind as the lights flashed on. again and the skeleton faded from view. Travers rushed forward to the end of the hall, but there was nothing to be seen. Where his likeness had been there was only the chimney piece with its mirror above. He went into the dining room for a drink to steady bis nerves, but as he entered he felt the same rush of cold air and in his ears sounded a dismal groan. He moved unsteadily toward the sideboard, but just before he reached it there was another period of darkness, a crash and as the lights sprang into the full glow again a fiendish laugh rang out. The place where the sideboard had been was empty. The sideboard had been moved to the opposite side of the room. He obtained his drink and a fresh cigar and. filled with wonder, made his way to the library. He had not been gone five minutes, and yet where the fire had been burning briskly, when he left, the grate was cold and clogged with dead ashes. With a shrug of his shoulders he settled himself in his chair, but scarcely had he done so when with a bang the hall door flew open. With a cry he sprang forward. There was no one in sight. Now the room was filled with the sound of an organ playing u dirge, while it bell faintly tolled the passing of a soul. At times the sound was so powerful that Travers could almost imagine that he was in a church; again it would sink lu the faintest echo, but always it played the music of the dead. It got on Travers' nerves and he went into the dining-room. The Hide- hoard had been moved back to its former position. Travel's glanced at it curiously. The glass from which he had drank was gone. The bottle, too, had been moved away to the place It had formerly occupied, and It was as full as when he had first seen it. The music had stopped in the library, so Travers went back. The moment he entered the room it began ngaln, but now the lights burned with a bluish glare that gave the place semblance of n vault; of a sudden these went out and the ceiling became illuminated by a thousand fiery serpents which darted hither and thither, changing color as they moved, but the organ had stopped and when the lights (lashed on again they were white, as before. Travel's hiid lost his mood for reading. He wandered up and down before the cases, regarding the backs of the volumes and pausing now and again to look into one for a moment. It was noi more ih:m 1» o'clock. The display was said to be best at midnight. He. wiinierl a hook of sufficient intercsi to Hike up to his room anil read until bed time. At last be made a selection, not the volume he had at first picked out. bill one thai seemed to bold a greater interest for him. He turned out the lights, as he hud promised I>e Brun, and went up the stairway wiih his bedroom candle. Apparently ihe ghosts preferred the lower floor for their playground, for Travers read for more than an hour before there was any manifestation. Then i( was a repel ion of the icy blast and tlie moaning of a person in mortal pain. In the mantel glass he suddenly perceived the 1 dim reflection of a child's head. l!c sprang to the electric switch and threw off Ihe current. Now the chilli's head was more plainly seen. Iis lips moved as ihe rooi'i was tilled wiih the sounds of its groans, then gradually it faded away until it could not even be seen dimly, while as ihe picture faded the groans diminished and all was still. Presently on the floor above lie heard footsteps. Soon they ceased and he heard lighter footfalls, which an< ".-oat-bed the place where he imagined iliu man must, be standing. Then then; was a revolver shoi, a piercing cry and the sound of a fall. He cnught up an electric lantern and ascended the stairs. There was no one in sight and on the floor of ihe room was a perceptible coating of dtisl. There had been no one i here, yet even now he could hear the moans of a womnn and could feel the chill air blow across his face. Toward 1 o'clock the noise ceased, ami ho nirned into bed and dropped peacefully off to sleep. Le Brim wakened him in the morning with a cup of coffee. "Did you see anything sir?" he asked, respectfully, as he deposited the coffee beside the bed. "Plenty." was the emphatic response. "I think I shall be going back to town today, Le Brun. There's a train through here at •*, isn't Iheri'?" Travers spent the morning in the stable listening to Le Brim's lale of the haunted house. "It's because of the bouse that stood on this site," explained the old man in conclusion. "There was a fine frame house hern when the master built, sir. I think the spirits belonged to that house and will pass to any house that is built." "That's what I think." agreed Travers. "The only redeeming feature of the place is your cooking. Let's go up to the house and have lunch." Crocker laughed when he heard of Travers' quick return, but his face clouded, too. "I guess it's no use. Billy." he lamented. "I'd rather sell. I've an offer of $100,000 for ihe place. I think I'll take it." "\Vuii a week and I'll give you double that." declared Travers. "t think I ran sell it to ,i ghost lover. I can guarantee plenty of action." "i'd nay the difference myself if I could use it." groaned Crocker. "I'm fond of tiie place, but I don't dare stay there." Travers smiled and went up to see Beth. Somehow for a man who had failed he seemed exceptionally happy. it was u week later that he dined at the (.'rockers', and made an appointment with the family to go back to lake dinuinc. "I will guarantee that no one loses his night' 5 ; sleep." he promised, and with that promise the party was fo-.-med. Every one was happy until the manifestations i-omn-e.ic'Nl after dinner when some of iho more timid among I be women were nearly frightened into hysterics by the development--, in spite of Travers' dec- laraiion that, if was merely a comedy. \VIipn be dropped out of the library window they were still more mystified until the manifestations suddenly ceased and Travel's shortly appeared among them with bis hand upon Le Brim's collar. "Behold the ghost!" he cried dramatically. "Le Brun. the great conjurer, ventriloquist and machinist." "What do you mean?" gasped Crocker. "Le Brun is vain enough ro keep on his walls old programs with his name in big type. He was a nob- ble magician in France until absinthe got the best of him, and old Glenwood brought him over here as his valet. "Glenwood was an expert amateur magician. He took a delight in having built a house which is haunted | by machinery. The apparition in I i lie hall i.s ihe Pepper ghost trick, the child in my bedroom is the old mirror Illusion. .Most of the rest is traps, speaking tube ventrilon'ti uu, air blasts and some imagination. Le Brun here is the manipulator. There is a den in the cellar. From this he ! works everything." "But why does he do it?" demanded Crocker. "\Vhnt does he make?" "He stood to make about $400.000 from you," explained Travprs. "He was left the house when Glenwood died. He sells nt what it's worth to those who do not know and buys it back cheap. He's made almost, a million our. of it." "This will be a fine place to spend your honeymoon in," said Crocker, "I suppose you know," lie added to the others, "that Billy is TO become my son-in-law next month. A man with sense enough to succeed where detectives fall is plenty good enough for George Crocker." "Me too." echoed Beth. '^v. 1&VMJL KATE'S FAILURE Cretonnes' Could of summer or fall furn'^jj' teresting—and a fabri|||- tlful? jif*'- If you have not foil provements that have,the cretonnes, there is •prise in store for you. afgeration to say that a daintier and more attri ery material on the marl course, the cretonnes are to all uses. For bedrooms it is the, able and the most beau 1 draperies. It is a poor that can not conjure up a boudoir all bright with rofiCR. Our mothers slept draped rooms, but it is di .b. of •her sister-in-law when Kate Win- 'just graduated from !he had successful- brother's household and devoted her life if her little nephew, run so smoothly that Tom WInthrop his thoughts to a and Kate's rule and ie. She had decided her life's vocation, all thoughts of FLANNEL 'dreamed of *or differing from ate was just he.__ she yts to ipposiWfn from .«?-' 'e was imbued sex, and Kate felt a premonition that she would meet her Waterloo at his small hands. Benny was the one weak spot in her government. She not only refrained from disciplining him, but ded him from his father's displeasure. One day there came a new personage to their hearth and home in the form of Dacre Mills, .who had gone into partnership with Tom Wimhrop. He loved Kate at sight, and each day strengthened the feeling which he dared not reveal, for he knew that even should she return his love, duty and loyalty to her brother and her brother's child would prevail. It was a case for diplomacy. The beginning of the end was when Dacre took Tom wiih him on a business trip to a city where he had man acquaintances. Among them was Doris Lynd. Thereafter Tom transacted all the business for the firm in that city; his trips became so frequent, and his manner so dreamy, that Dacre felt the campaign was on. Then came the most delicate and the most difficult part of his scheme to reconcile Kate to the situation. One afternoon as they sat on the porch, they saw a truck coming down the street. Clinging ecstatically to the rear of said truck was Benny. This recreation was one that had been strictly prohibited by both Kate and Tom. She called Benny to her, and after gently chiding him for his disobedience, proceeded to read him a paragraph from the daily paper describing the death of a little girl who had been crushed by the wheels of a wagon to which she had been banging In much the same manner as had Benny. The boy listened with condescending interest, and when she had finished, he scoffingly remarked: "She didn't know how to catch on." Then, catching sight of a playmate, he was away like a small whirlwind. Kate turned in dismay to Dacre, who was laughingly mirthfully. "His argument was sound." be said, "but don't you think you ought to use a little discipline for disobe- —the way I feel. Xo one can understand my leniency to him." "[ see something else," he continued gravely. "I see that you are spoiling Benny's chances for the future. He will grow up into a headstrong, disobedlepit boy." "Don't say that;" she said with a little ga>p. "The time will come when your one hope for Benny." "Anil that is "A stepmother." "Xo—" he said in answer to her indignant remonstrance, "not the typical, harsh stepmother, but a woman, sensible, firm and judicious—like yourself—without the sentiment in regard to the child." "Benny shall never have :\ siep-j "You .".re too soft-beaned, and if you I should ever punish him. you would \ make It up to him by an increase of' indulgence afterwards. Xo. I see just AND HIS WIFE HEARD ed, huh? That's the kind I'm hunting for." "You see, I'm tired of having these mutts flashed on me," the man at the 'phone went on, confidentially. "I want only the real thing. I'm willing to dig up anything within reason wife of fig hus- her jun- offlce the eum- dience instead of moral lectures' ' "I suppose 1 ought," she acknowledged, "but I simply can't." "I realize that," he replied. "His having been left motherless to your charge at so tender an age appeals to you, and the fear of being sterner with him than his mother would have been keeps you from giving him merited punishment." "O," she cried, "you see it exactly KATE. conscience will smite yon. and you will see you have worked the boy harm." "I suppose I shall have to take a different, course with him." "You can't do it," he declared. 1 mother," she cried in a "Curfcw- shall-not-ring-tor.iphi" voice. "If, Tom marries again, Benny will live with me. for be would openly rebel, and she would appeal to Tom, and then there would lie trouble." Dacre was silent. lie had thought that in freeing her of the charge of Tom,-she would be clear of Kenny. He pondered over the snhjei t. and found that he must enlist Benny for ihe scheme. Tom hail confided in him that he had lost his heart to Doris, and that he was going to combine a business and pleasure trip on the morrow and learn his fate, although he had been encouraged to hope. "Do you know, Tom. what you ought to do," be advised earnestly, "is to take Benny with you." "Take Benny with me!" echoed the astonished father. "Yes. She knows you have a son, and she probably regards him in the light of the average small boy; but he is so handsome and so Interesting, she will be delightfully undeceived, and—" Dacre paused, overcome by his eloquence and conscience. "Thai's so," said the fond father proudly. "But Beany doesn't always behave well." "O. he will when he is away." prophesied Dacre. "Children always do when away from home." His argument resulted in the departure of Tom ami Benny for a week's sojourn in the city where resided the fair D">ris. Dacre had a blissful week with Kate, who. relieved of all responsibility, passed the happiest days she had known in years. She chided herself for feeling a little pang of disappointment upon the reur.-n of the two travelers. Tom was beaming with happiness as ho announced his engagement to Doris. ICaie congratulated him with just a little natural twinge at her dethronement. "She and Benny became great chums," he said exultantly. "I staid at the hotel, but she insisted it was no place for a child, and kept him at her home the entire week." "O. she's a peach!" asserted Benny. "She knows a lot for a girl." "She knows how to catch on," thought Kate half bitterly. "She made you mind, too," laughed Tom. "O. Doris is right at home with boy?. She understands them thoroughly." said Dacre. "ICt tu. Brute!" thought Kate. When she had put Benny to bed, she stole out into the garden. Sha had gone but a few steps when she heard Dacre's voice from the shadows : "!'ve been watching and waiting for you, Kate." "I thought I'd come out and try and get used to the situation," she said with a half soli. "Kate, they don't need you any more, bur I do. Ccme to me, Kiue.' 1 And Kate heeded his call. -•-***- Shirt-watat houses and departments are lb *, waista for late summer and early fall wear w* off terial u well as «tyle. That of the picture it ofc lf *' has been brought out. The low round collar •« evidence, and Jt will be noted that the broa marked, this being attained by epaulette-shaped set beneath the edges of the fronts with simulat buttons. The collar, cuffs and epaulettes are t* eoutacbe braid. "THE REAL THING." to get the real kind, too, as I told .vou." • i"O, the traitor!" hissed the man s wife uerabling with rage, i "Say, you got her there with you now, old man? What's that? O.all right. Curled up on your lap right now, hey? Well, you want to remember that she's mine, old boy." ("Curled up in his lap—horrible!" the jealous wife gasped.) "Say," went on the unsuspecting husband at the 'phone, "can't you fetch her right down now and let me look her over? Let's see, it's pretty near lunch time, and I believe my wife'll be down some time pretty soon, and, of course, I don't want my wife to see her, see? But you just trot her over here now, and I'll have a peek, and then we can fix it, understand? What's that? You'll be over in five minutes? All right, old boy. I'll be waiting." He hung up the receiver, and turned to face his white-faced and wrathy wife. "So, sir," she began, "you are going to have some wretched tawdry creature brought to your office by that miserable scoundrel, James Swiftclip, are you?" The man hung his head. He looked like a man cornered and corralled. "I heard every word you said in the 'phone, so you needn't deny it," his wife went on, breathlessly. "How dare you carry on in this public way in such a manner? What do you mean by professing to 1-1-ove me, and t-t-tthen—" She was relasping into tears, and. of course, the man took hold of her to attempt to comfort her. "Don't you d-d-d-dare t-t-t-touch me!" she gasped, throwing him off. "I hate the v-v-v-very t-t-touch of ,your hand, you scandalous, deceitful t-t-thing!" "My dear," he began, "if you understood the circumstances of this matter I am sure you would not take on in this—" "Understand?" she exclaimed, pas- passionately. "D-d-d-dinn't I hear your very- words to that horrid brute in the 'phone? Isn't he going to fetch some miserable baggage down here to your office and—" Just at that instant the happy-go- lucky Jim Swiftclip arrived at the office wiih the miserable baggage. "Here, my dear," said the man ID his jealous wife, "is the young female individual about whom I was talking with Jim in the 'phone. I've had Jim on the lookout for a good one for a long time, and he has been kind enough to get this crackcrjack i'or me. T wanted her for a present, a surprise to you—you'd often told me how much you wanted one of her kind." Then he handed the dainty little Japanese lady spaniel over to his wife. ^-^______ Awkwardly Put. The Professor—I hope you will excuse me for receiving you on this floor, madam, but the fact is that. I am not very well furnished in the upper story. Boy—I want some more of them pills my father bought here yesterday. Chemist—Ah! he found them good, did he? Boy—I dunno; but they fit my air gun, a treat! HE NEEDED HELP R the dearest girl in the world hoo and f were saying goodnight | ^ 0 '.." 1 ihe other evening for the; clb tenth time I said to her: "Gwendolen. I certainly must speak to your father. It's- a week m- night since we became engaged. Uo you remember?" "O. George!" "I'll go to him tomorrow night before I sec you." I said, determinedly. Next evening when I called the maid informed me ^ that Miss Owen was. In the hammock on the porch. I said I would lake a smoke with her father first. I had bought two •-!.">centers and brought them along, jusr to show her father that, I wasn't stingy. If the maid had not turned and looked at. me curiously I should never have got courage to enter the library. Inside the door I only felt conscious of the geographical position of my feet. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and my knees knocked together like castanets. Mr. Golightly was engager! in a game o'f solitaire— a favorite amusement of his. "Hello!" said he. "Good evening," I faltered. "Want to see me?" "Xot particularly." Then I added, hastily: "I just came to have a— little smoke with you." "Humph!" . . I This did not seem very promising. I offered him one of my cigars. "Thanks," he said, with a glance ^ tn at the gold band. "I prefer these good old 5-centers. I am used to them. The others taste too much of money." I said I preferred the cheat) ones. GEORGE. "These — these were a present me," I lied, haltingly. "Humph!" -This — this is a beautiful evening," I began again. "What? 0. yes. Do you play solitaire, young man?" I said I didn't. "I thought so. One can't play a good same" unless one is alone. Good \vav for a young man ;o spend his evenings, though. Saves expense of a club." ••[ i generally call on—some lady friend," I faltered. "Foolish waste of time. A man ought not to think of girls until he can take care of himself." I told him what my salary was. -When I was your age I got twice as much." lie said. This looked black for me. -But, .Mr. Golightly, I—I—" "Well?" "I—I—" "You said that-.before. "\Vcre you ever married? I mean ." I began to feel dizzy "Been drinking, George?" -Xo—that is, you have a daughter. \H—-all the fellows are—well, rather smitten with her and—and—" I could say no more. I stood like a ninny. Then a breath from some sunny land came into the room. The dear girl slipped in behind me and put her arms around my neck. "Papa, we love each other. George is trying to tell you how much." -Is that all? He.has made mighty hard work of it. I thought he was tryng to borrow money. Well, take my blessing and run away and leave me in peace to finish this game. I wonder if I put the queen on the king." Truly, women are wonderful creatures.—Chicago News,

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