The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1909-06-10

BY GUY THORNE
Sweet is revenge, especially to a
woman."-Lord Byron.

duchess and Michael Grant, Michael
Grant himself had entered the club.
All these thoughts flashed through
his brain In a single second of time.
Disconnected as they seemed to be
coming from a whole series Of impress
sions-now, with the suddenness of a
rifle shot, they all seemed fused into
a connected whole. The pieces of the
puzzle came together, and he saw the
picture.
The thing was so swift and so COM
plete that he trembled as he lay.
His eyes fell once more upon the
paper. Here were the details. The
little duke,it appeared, had mysteri-
ously vanished-no one knew how
from 10A, Piccadilly.
The details were very difficulty to
get, but it was known that Scotland
Yard had been busy the whole night,
that the duke Of Perth and Sir An
thony HELLER had been summoned,
and that Mr.. Michael Grant, who was
in the house at the time of the discov-
cry Of the dukes disappearance, was
more or less in charge of the investi-
cations .
There had not yet been time for any
leader or editorial comment upon the
subject. The news was too recent,
and only the barest outlines were
printed in the paper. At the same
time, after such facts as had been
collected were briefly summarized In
large type, an editorial note in bour-
geois type appeared. 1t was to this
effect:
The news of this extraordinary oc-
currence has only just come to hand.
Comment upon 1t Is, therefore, use
less at the present stage Of affairs.
1t may, after all, prove to be capable
Of a very simple explanation, though
the information at present In u pos
session certainly seems to point to
the fact that this Is not so. If, as our
later editions will explain, the little
duke of London has really been spir-
tied away or kidnapped by some mys-
terious agency, then the United King
dom and, indeed, all Europe will have
a sensation unparalleled in the his
tory of modern times.
1T must be remembered by our
readers that the duke of London Is a
more important factor In the life of
our day than many a royal prince;
and that the child for whom the flu
ture has such vast possibilities-such
enormous and almost u~nthinkable re-
sponsibilities-is, indeed, a very cen
ter and focus of interest"
Marriott read these words with a
The arteries of his temples beat like
distant drums. He found, to his sur
prise, that the hand which held the
paper was not only trembling, but we
with perspiration.
What did it all mean? How was
it that. in some mysterious, ~inexplica-
BILE way, he, the naval officer upon
leave, seemed destined to be caught
up in this great affair?
In the afternoon he had seen the
little duke with the young duchess,
coming from the house of the prince
of Wales. Both of them had recog-
nized his father. His father was a
friend of both. A few minutes after
wards he had see Michael Grant en-
ter the club. BY a curious train of
circumstances, and quite beyond his
W wish, he and Sir Hercules had
seen the remains of a note from the
duchess, and now It appeared that the
control of this strange affair was
placed in the hands of Michael Grant.
Finally, there was one great fact
which doomed far back In his con-
science, the fact Of the black, swing
ing burden he had seen descending
from the upper window of a great
house in Piccadilly, before he had
been struck down by some unseen
agency.
He now had no longer any doubt
that he had been deprived OF con-
seriousness exactly opposite 100A, Pic
cadilly.
He felt sure that he himself held
the key to the whole situation.
What was to be done?
His head was still sick and giddy.
He felt very far from well. The great
shock he had experienced had its way
with his physical capacities, yet, new
e~rtheless, his brain was stung and
whipped into an enormous activity.
This strange thing that had come to
him possessed his whole mind and
soul. Again he asked himself, what
was to be done?
The answer came swiftly, obviously
almost. At any cost, see Michael
Grant. He must see him Immediately
and tell him what he knew.
He rang the bell, and the valet en-
tered. Fetch me a copy of Who's
Who, " he said.
The man brought the fat, red vol
ume, and Marriott hurried!y turned
the pages. After columns of Grants,
all more or less distinguished, he
found the name he sought, Michael
Grant," and at the bottom of the
clo~sely-written paragraph was the ad-
dress. "St. Anselm's Mansions, Victo-
| ria Street." A telephone number also
and the number of Grants motor a
were appended to the printed informa-