The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1916-12-27
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 Helen, aware that sne was flushed with excitement. fell in with the pro posal readily, and having switched on the lights in her room and put on her hat so that her moving shadow was thrown upon the easement curtain she turned out the light again and ran to rejoin her friend. She found the lat ter peering eagerly from the window of the drawing room.
 4.He thinks you are coming out" gasped Denise. He has slipped around the corner He will pretend to be passing this way, the cross eyed hypo- crite. Do you feel capable of the task ?'
 Quite" Helen declared, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. You will follow us as arranged. For heav en's sake, don't lose usv'
 .'If the. doctor knew of this,'' breath ed Denise, 'he would never forgive me But no woman. no true woman, could refuse to undertake SO palpable a duty
 Helen Cumberly, wearing a warm golfing jersey oyer her dress, with a wooden cap to match, ran lightly down the stairs and out into the square, car rying letter. She walked along to the pillar box, and having examined the address upon the envelope with great care by the light of an adjacent lamp, posted the letter, turnedAand there, radiant and lowing, stood MT. GianapolisL ti i4e.
 ''Kismet is reallE most kind to me!' he cried. My dear Miss Cumberly, I trust you are quite well?''
 Quite" said Helen, holding out her hand. T am awfuliy glad to see you again, MT. Gianapolisr'
 He was distinctly encouraged by her tone. He bent forward confidentially.
 "The night is young, he said, and < his smile was radiant. s"May hope that your expedition does. not termi- nate at this post box P F T
 Helen glanced at him doubtfully and then down at her jersey. Gian- apolis was unfeignedly delighted with her naivete. 4..,...
 Surely you don't want to be seen with me in this extraordinary cos tunnel she challenged.
 My dear Miss Cumberly, it is. sim g ply enchanting! A girl with such a figure, as yours never looks better than when she dresses sportily!'
 The latent vulgarity of the man was escaping from the bondage in which ordinarily he confined it. A real pas sion had him in it's grip, and the real Gianapolis was speaking Helen hesi- tated for one Hateful moment. 1t was going to be even worse than she had z anticipated. She. glanced up at Palace mansions.
 Across curtained window moved . shadow, that of a man wearing long gown and having his hands clasped be- hind him, whose head showed as an indistinct blur because the hair was wildly disordered.f This shadow pass ed from side to side of the window and was lost from view. It was the shadow of Henry Leroux. T am afraid have a lot of work to do,'' said Helen. with a little catch in her voice.
 My dear Miss Cumberly,''' cried Gi- snapolis eagerly. placing Nhis hand npon her arm, '.it is precisely of your work thatsAI wish to speak to you! -Four work is familiar to me. I never miss a nnesof it, and Knowing how you delight in the outre and how inimita. bly, you can describe scenes of Bo hemian life, had hoped, since it was my privilege to meet you, that you would accept my services as cicerone - <~ o% 1,v,D .t, of Bohemian London.
 You certainly interest me-" said Helen, and indeed this half glimpse into phases of London life hidden from the world, even from the greater. part of the ever peering journalistic world was not lacking in fascination.
 The planning of a scheme in it's en tirety constitutes mental effort which not infrequently blinds us to the short