The Cook County news-herald. [volume] (Grand Marais, Cook County, Minn.) 1909-current, 1916-05-31


was pinned with the most disabling
grip known in the science of combat,
a strangle hold with the assailant's
wrist clamped below and behind the
ear. Average Jones lifted his voice
and the name that came to his lips
was the name that had lurked sub
consciously, in his heart, for days.
"Sylvia!" he cried. 1.-THE fourth
| floor! Gomez"
THE Mirror said Average Jones.
Push it aside. Pull it down.
With an effort of nervous strength,
the girl lifted aside the big glass. Be-
hind it a hundred scarlet-banded in
sects swarmed and scampered.
"Unless my little detectives have de-
ceived me-" Jones said, you'll find
the body in there
She CROPPED, and drew forth a large
box. In it was packed the body OF
Peter Paul. There was a cord about
the fat neck.
"Strangled,' whispered the girl.
Poor old doggie!" Then she whirled
upon the PROSTATE man. "You MUIR
derer!" she said very low.
Its not murder to put a dying
brute out of the way" said the shaken
man sullenly.
but it's fraud, in this case," retort-
ed Average Jones. "A fraud Of which
you're self-convicted. Get up
There was no more fight in Judge
oily Ackroyd. He skunk to the stairs
and limped heavily down to his fright
ened and sobbing wife.
DO you mind my saying" said
Jones, that you are the bravest and
finest human being I've met in
a-a-sorewhat varied career?"
The girl shuddered. Il could have
stood it ALL she said, "but for those
awful, crawling, red creatures"
"Those?" said Average Jones. "Why.
they were my bloodhounds, my little
detectives"
And what are they?"
''Carrion beetles" said Average
Jones. Where the vultures of the in
sect kingdom are gathered together.
there the quarry lies."
Sylvia Graham drew a long breath.
I'm all right now" she pronounced.
Iheres nothing left, suppose, but
to leave this house. And to thank
you. How am I ever to thank you?"
She lifted her eyes to his.
Never mind the thanks" said Az.
erage Jones unevenly. 1T was moth.
ing" ~-..A
1T was-everything! It WAS won
dertul!' cried the girl, and held out
her slender hands to him.
AS they clasped warmly upo~ his.
Average Jones' reason lost it's balance.
Bending over the little, clingiug hands,
he pressed his lips to them. Only for
moment. The hands slipped from his.
1here was a quick, frightened gasp.
and the girls face, all aflush with a
new, sweet fearfulness and wondering
confusion, vanished behind a ponder
Gus swinging deer.
The young mans knees shook a lit
tie as he walked forward and put his
lips close to the Intel.
sylvia
There was faint rustic from with.
in.
I'm sorry: I mean, In glad. Glad
der than Of anything I've ever done in
my life
Silence from within.
Listen, there mustn't be any misun-
derstanding about this, dear. II YOU
SEND Tor me, it must be because you
want ne; knowing that. when l come,
snail ccme for you. Gocd-by, dear"
"Good-by." 1t was the merest whis-
per from behind the door.
Two days later he sat at his desk.
IN a murk of woe. No word nor sign
had come to him from Miss Sylvia Gra-
ham. He frowned heavily as Simpson
entered the inner sanctum with the
usual packet CT clippings.
Leave thel,' he ordered.
Yes, Sir The confidential clerk
fingered, looking uncomfortable. ANY.
thing from yesterdays lot, sir?"
Haven't locked them over YET
"Or day before's?'
Haven't taken those up either"
If l might suggest, there's verv
-AAS>A SoSAA5 oN IlStnCuL IN VGStors
days paper repeated this morn
i don't want to see it,"
mo, sir. But-but still-it it seems
to have a strange reference to the
burial Of the millio1-dollar dog. and
an invitation that thought"
Where is it? Give it to mel" For
once in his life, high pressure of ex-
element had blotted cut Average
Jones drawl. His employee thrust
into his hand this announcement from
the Banner Of that morning:
D1ED-AT 100 WEST SIXTEENTH
street. September H. Peter Paul. a doc
Tor many years the faithful and fond
companion Of the late Amelia Van Hal
tern Burial in accordance with the wish
and will of Mrs. Van Haltern. at the fam
ny estate, Schuylkill, September IT, at
three O'Clock. His friend, Don Quixote.
Is especially hidden to come, if he viii.
Average Jones leaped to his feet.
where's my hat: Where's the time
table? Get cab! Simpson, you idiot.
why didn't you make me read this be-
fore, CCnfOund VOui 7 mean God hloso