The Butler weekly times. (Butler, Mo.) 1881-1918, 1915-01-07

though you'll look in vain to discover
any one, Your father knows best wha
he is doing, my dear girl. You. see
met him years ago In China; and
when he started out to do q certain
thing he generally did 1t. He nevel
botched any of his plans. So we al
must wait, Only I'm going to MARI,
YOU all the same. whether he likes Il
or not. The rogues will try to impose
upon you again; but do not pay any
attention to notes or personals in the
I papers. And it was a lucky thing thai
was on the freighter that picked you
up at sea. shall always wonder how
that yacht took Are"
$50 shall L" replied Florence. hel
brows,. drawing together in puzzle
ment. Sometimes l think must have
done It, You know. people out Of their
heads do strange things. seem ia
see myself as in dream. And this
man Braine is a scUundrel!"
yes; and more than that, he Is
the dear friend Of the countess. But
understand, you must never let her
dream or suspect that you know BY
lulling her. into overconfidence some
day she will naturally grow careless.
and then we'll have them ALL l think
understand what your fathers idea
is: not to have them arrested for
blackmail, but practically to extermin-
OF <hnv,1 M tn, ,rio fev crNNH
terms Of years that they'll die there.
When you see snake, poisonous
one. don't let it get away. Kill it.
Well, must be off to work"
And you be careful, too. You are
in more danger than l am
but I'm a man and can dodge
quick" he laughed, picking up his hat.
what horrid thing money is! II
I hadn't any money, nobody would
bother me-"
II would" he smiled He wanted to
kiss her, but the eternal Jones might
be watching from the windows: and
so he patted her hand instead and
walked down the graveled path to
the street.
1t was difficult work for Florence
to play at friendship. She was like
her father; she did not bestow it on
every one. She had given her friend
ship to the Russian. the first real big
friendship in her life, and she had
been roughly disillusioned. But If the
countess could act, SO could she; and
of the two her acting was the more
consummate. She could smile and
laugh and jest, all the while her heart
was burning with wrath.
One day, a week or SO after her
meeting with Norton in the summer
house. Olga arrived, beautifully
gowned, handsome as ever. There
was not the least touch-of the adven-
turess in her makeup. Florence had
Just received some mail, and she had
dropped the letters on the library table
to greet the countess. She had opened
them, but had not yet looked at their
contents.
They were chatting pleasantly about
inconseQuent things, when the maid
came in and asked Florence to come
to Miss Susan's room for a moment
Florence excused herself, wondering
what Susan could want. She forgot
the mail.
As soon as she was gone, the count.
ess, certain that Jones was not Turk
ing about, picked up the letters and
calmly examined their contents; and
among them she found this remark
able document: Dear daughter
have never seen: must turn the
treasure over to you. Meet me at
eight in the summer house. Tell no
Dne as my life is in danger. Your low
ing father"
The countess could have laughed
aloud. She saw this man Paroff's
hand; and here was the chance to be-
TOOL and humiliate him and send him
,ff packing to his cold and miserable
country. She had made up once as
and she could easily do SO
again. The only thing that troubled
Ter was the fact that she did not know
whether Florence had read the letter