The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1916-12-23

led along toward the head of the car
 and, at the same moment, Said revers l ed the gear and backed away. M. Max was foiled in his hopes of learning the l number of the limousine.
 | He glanced about him wonderingly. !, 'tYou are in Temple gardens, M Gaston,'' explained the Greek, ''and
 here, unless I am greatly mistaken, comes disengaged taxicab. You win drive to your hotel?''
 "Yes. to my hotel," replied M. Max. "And whenever you wish to avail yourself of your privilege and pay a second visit to the establishment pre- Icided over by MT. Ho Pin you remem-
 Der the number?''
 1 "I remember the number" replied M. Max.
 The cab hailed by Gianapolis drew up beside the two, and NJ. Max en- tered it. i.4
 Good morning, M Gaston."
 "Good morning, Mir. Gianapolis." At this time Henry Leroux, Denise Ryland and Helen Cumberly were speeding along the Richmond road be- meath sky which smiled upon Le- roux's convalescence, for this was a perfect autumn morning which ordi- narily had gladdened him, but which saddened him today.
 Denise Ryland had been very voluble at the commencement of the drive, but las 1t progressed had grown gradually silent and now sat with her brows working up and down and with a lit 1 tie network of wrinkles alternately ap- bearing and disappearing above the bridge of her nose A self reliant wo- 1 man, it was irksome to her to know
 herself outside 1the circle of activity
 revolving around the mysterious MT
 King.
 She thought that at last she per Iceived the secret working of that Prov , idence which ever dances attendance at the elbow of accomplished woman
 kind. Following the lead set by HI. O.
 in the Planet CHI. e. was Helen Cum berly's nom de plune) and by Crockett in the Daily Monitor, the London Press l had taken Olaf van Noord to it's bosom and his exhibition in the Little Gallery l was an established financial success while "Our Lady of the Topples ] (which had, of course, been rejected by the Royal academy promised to be the picture of the year. Mentally Denise 1Ryland was agair surveying that remarkable compost
 tion. Mentally she was surveying Ola
 van Noord's model also. Into tn, scheme slowly forming in her brain
 the yellow. wrapped cigarette contain ing "a small percentage of opium" fit ted likewise. Finally, but not last ii
 importance, the Greek gentleman, Mir Gianapolis, formed a unit of the whole l In short, she had determined to hel own satisfaction that Mr. Gianapoli' was the clew to the mystery; that MT Gianapolis was not (as she had onc' supposedy enacting the part of an ami l able liar when he declared that ther, l were in London such apartments as that represented by Olaf van Noord l that MT. Gianapolis was acquainted with the present whereabouts of Mrs
 Leroux; that Mir. Gianapolis knew wh,
 murdered Iris Vernon, and that Scot land Yard was benevolent institu tion for the support of those of en feebled intellect.
 l These results achieved. she broke he l long silence at the moment that tn, l car was turning into Richmond Higl l street.
 My dear.'' she exclaimed, elutchin, I Helen's arm, ''I see it all!' "Oh," cried the girl, "how you star
 tied me! thought you were ill o
 that you had seen something fright
 ful.'' T have seen something frightful, 1 declared Denise Ryland. She glare. l across at the haggard Leroux. "Harr | Leroux," she continued, lit is yer 1 fortunate that came to London-ver l fortunate"
 II am sincerely glad that you did, l answered the novelist. with one of hi 1 kindly. weary smiles.
 1 '.My dear" said Denise Ryland, turr
 ing again to Helen Cumberly, "you sa 1 you met that cross eyed being, Gianap | OlAS, dGdiA. +
 "Good heavens! cried Helen. ''
 thought I should never get rid of him most loathsome man" She hat 1 chanced to meet the Greek upon tn
 street and had had considerable diff
 culty in getting rid of him. for he ha'
 accompanied her for some distance.
 "My dear child"-Denise squeezed
 her tightly by the arm and peered intt i her face intently-"c l-tivate, deliber
 ately cultivate that mans acguaint
 ance!'
 Oh cried Helen. flushing ant l glancing rapidly at Leroux, who nov
 was thoroughly interested. please d, l Rot talk nonsense!"
 Tt is no nonsense. It is the finger'o
 Providence, Do you know where yol
 can find him?''
 Mot exactly, but have shrewt
 suspicion"-again she glanced in al ] embarrassed way at Leroux-.that b, 1 will know where to find me-"
 "Who is this presumptuous person? inquired the novelist, leaning forward his dark b1nN eyes aglow with utter