The Washington herald., 1916-09-17

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go from beyond the portieres-
Florence's wide eyes slowly closed
Her tense body relaxed its rigid pose.
She sank back, a forlornly inert and
Hfeless little form, on the couch.
She Is dead" gasped Harold Stan
ley in horror.
Parrish and Felix exchanged an
other glance fraught with strange
meaning. The detective turned on
his heel and silently quilted the
house Felix stole to his own quar-
ters.
DR.. Montrose staggered rather than
walked to the wall and tore from 1t
tiny Venetian mirror. He held this
unsteadily just above F1orence's
white lips. As he glanced at the mir
ror again, he sighed in utter relief.
The smooth surface Of the glass was
blurred ever 50 little.
1T Is her BREATH" he exclaimed.
She is alive! She has merely sunk
into the secondary stage OF the hyp-
motto trance. She may lie like this
weeks. She can never be aroused
from 1t except by the man or woman
who mesmerized her"
There was little enough hope in his
tone. Stanley promised to call up
every few hours to inquire for the
patient. Then, saying good-by, he re-
turned to his car and ordered the
chauHeur to drive him back to Robert
Clayton's stadio.
There he found Clayton stretched
out on the floor; his head in Yanya.
Tosca's lap. The model was leaning
Anxiously above him, bathing an ugly
cut on his temple. As Harold entered
the studio, she looked up, eagerly.
He Is coming back to his senses"
she said in pathetic gladness. See!
His eyes are opening and he Is
breathing regularly again"
How did this happen?" demanded
Stanley, glancing from her absolute
ly innocent face to that Of the slow
ly recovering artist.
Il was waiting here for him." ex-
planned Vanya, after you rushed
out so excitedly. All at once I heard
a groan. 1t came from behind the
divan. I pushed the divan aside. Mr..
Clayton lay there, gagged and bound.
=
The injured man rose on one elbow
and blinked dazedly around him.
What's happened" he asked, his
voice unsteady, his eyes dull. Did
someone put me out? I-I-Oh, hello,
Nanya!" he broke of. What's up?
How do you happen to be here?"
Harold said nothing. He scented
mystery. although he no longer. con-
nected Vanya with 1t. After making
certain that Clayton was none the
worse for his mishap Stanley left
him to his fair volunteer nurse and
went downtown to the office.
All this Is mixed UP, in some way,
with the Crimson STAIN" he mused, as
he reviewed the afternoons strange
events. I'm sure Of that Butch.
Il doesn't make sense! I have the
whole tangle In my hands, with no
way Of finding either end Of it."
The next day saw no change in
Florence Montrose's condition. Still
she lay as one dead; the faint blur on
the mirror alone showing that she
OTeathed. DR.. Montrose Quilted her
bedside only once. That was when
Harold Stanley telephoned to him to
learn II she were better.
Stanley, hearing Of her continued
unconsclousness, announced that he
was coming at once to the Montrose
house to see her and to talk over a
new plan Of attack on the Crimson
Stain. The doctor assented, without
Interest, and returned to his daugh-
ter's bedside.
For nearly an hour he sat thus, his
eyes on Florence's lifeless face; his
entire Will power concentrated in an
effort to overcome the force that held
her, and to bring her back to her
senses
Al last his tired gaze lifted. He
CHANGED to look at a long mirror d.
rectly IN front Of him In this mirror
he saw that the door behind him was
slowly opening. Moyeless, astonIshed,
he sat and watched.
Gradually, through the widening
aperture, Pierre La Rue slipped into
the room. and stood, just within the
threshold, looking across with a
mocking grin, at Florence. Hearing
that she was dead, he had stolen
hither, In alarm, TO verify or dis
prove the news.
Under the spell Of la Rue's gaze,
the girl slowly rose to a sitting pos
tIlre, and her dark eyes opened wide.
But her eyes were still those of a
sleep-walker.
With o snarl like q fighting dogs,
Or. -Montrose sprang to his feet and
whirled about 70 confront La Rue.
The latter, not in the least minded