Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1916-01-15

dullllI ut II ever HCdIu VI tLiC VlAACAAA
strasse. Clever beggar! A jolly keen
eye he's got for lis W skin; won't
take a chance on being betrayed into
the hands of the English, ever when
he ought to see that a chaps honest
| when he comes and tells a straight
story about losing that silly little. bit
of paper with his working number
on it. What difference if he can't pro
duce the ticket when he has the nun.
Der pat on the tip of his tongue and
is willing to risk his own life to give
that number to q stranger.
Back upon the old ,p2rplexity that
had kept Capper's brain on strain
ever since the first day aboard La
| Vendee-who had lifted his ticket
and when was it done? The man re
called, for, the hundredth time, his
awakening aboard the French liner
what a horror that first morning was,
with the ratty little surgeon feeding
a fellow aromatic spirits of ammonia
like porridge! Capper, in this mood
! of detached review, saw himself pam
fully stretching out his arm from MS
bunk to grasp his stick the very first
| minute he was alone in the stateroom;
the crooked handle m off under
his turning, and the white Wisp OF
paper is stuck in the hollow Of the
stick. Blank paper!
Safe as safe could be had been that
little square of paper Louisa had CIV
en- him with his expense money, from
! the, day he left Berlin until-when?
To be sure, he had treated himself to
a little Of the grape in Paris and,
maybe, in Marseilles; but his brain
had been clear every minute. On, Cap
per would have sworn to that! The
| whole business of the disappearance
of his .Wilhelmstrasse ticket and the
| substitution of the blank was simply
another low trick the Capper luck had
played on him.
The train rushed through the dark
toward the distant prickly coral bed
of lights, and the whirligig Of black
despair churned under the brown
bowler. No beginning, no end to the
misery of it. Each new attempt to
force a little light of hope into the
blackness of his plight fetched up at
the same dead wall-here was Billy
Capper, hired by the Wilhelmstrasse,
after having been booted out OF the
secret offices Of England and Belgium
given a show for his white alley
and he couldn't nov a hand to earn
his new salary. Nor could he go BACK
to Berlin. even though he dared re-
turn with confession of the stolen
ticket: Berlin was no place for an
Englishman right now, granted he
could get there. No. he was In the
Dackwash again-this time in this
beastly half caste city of Alexandra,
and with-how much was 1t now
with a beggarly fifteen pounds be-
tween himself and the beach.
Out Of the ruck Of Capper,s rehec-
tons the old persistent call began to
make itself heard before ever the
train from Ramleh pulled into the
Alexandria station. That elusive
country Of fountains, incense and rose
dreams which can only be approached
through the neck of a bottle spread
itself before him alluringly, inviting
him to forgetfulness. And Capper
answered the call.
From the railroad station he set his
course through narrow villainous
streets down to the district OF
Pharos, where the deep water men
of all the world gather to make vivid
the nights of Egypt. Behind him was
the faithful shadow, Caesar, Doctor
| Koch's man. The Numidian trailed
like a panther, sinking from cover
to cover, bending his body as the big
cat does to accommodates Of the
trails blinds.
Once Capper found himself in a
| blind alley, turned and strobe out of
it Just in time to bump heavily into
the unsuspected pursuer. Instantly
a hem of the Numidian's cloak was
lifted to screen his face, but not be-
fore the sharp eyes of the English
| man had seen and recognized it. A
tart smile curled the corners of Cap
per's mouth as he passed on down
the bazaar lined street to the Tavern
Of Thermopylae, a. the next corner