pin am ' 1

[?]

f r Her statement as to the primal cause r [ - (was purely Inventive. There wae not i , la grain of truth In It He could not f jpoeslbly have been so rude. He bad j 'been too Indifferent Too Indifferent! j The repetition of the phrase made him I j

The Beautitul Tigress.

alt straighten. Pshaw! It could not * be that He possessed a little vanity; * If he had not his history would not ' have been worth a scrawl. But he de- ' nied the possession vehemently, as 1 men are- wont to da Too indifferent! Was It possible 1 that he had roused her enmity simply 1 because he had made it evident that 1 her charms did not interest him? Be- 1 yond lifting his hat to her, perhaps ex- 1 changing a comment on the weather. ' bis courtesie- had not been extended. ' Courtlandt was peculiar in some re- 1 •pec la. A woman attracted him, or * she did not In the one cose he was i affable, winning, pleasant, full of those t agreeable little surprises that In turn attract a woman. In the other case, he passed on. for his impressions were ] Instant and did not require the usual < tahlrmlshing. Oh, stubborn Dutchman that he had ■ ibeen! Blind fool! To have run away j i Instead of fighting to the last ditch for j < his happiness! The Deslmone woman j i was right; it had taken him a long i •time to come to the conclusion that i tahe done him an 111 turn. His jaw set, - •and the pressure of his lips broke the i sweep of hie mustache, converting it < Into bristling tufts, warlike and reeo- 1 Bate. i What of the pretty woman in the (Tavern e Royal e? What about her? At < •whose bidding had she followed him? (One or the other of them had not told 1 the truth, and he was Inclined to be- 1 lieve that the prevarication had its 1 ■source in the pomegranate llpe of the * Calabrian To give the old barb one ' more twist, to learn If its venomous 1 •point still held and hurt; nothing ' would have afforded the diva more de- 1 light < When the taxicab joined the long 1 line of carriages and automobiles op 1 posits the Austrian ambassador's, 'Courtlandt awoke to the dismal and ' disquieting fact that be had formu- 1 la ted no plan of action. He had done ' no more than to give the driver his 1 directions; and now that he had ar- 1 rived, he had the choice of two alters 1 natives. He ooald welt to see her 1 oome out or return at once to his hotel, 1 which, as subsequent events affirmed, ' would have been the more sensible 1 course. He would have been confront- 1 ed with small difficulty In gaining admission to the house. He knew enough j of these general receptions; the an- j Bouncing of hit name would have con. , ▼eyed nothing to the host, who knew , •perhaps a third of his guests, and many of these but slightly. But such ■ an adventure was distasteful to Court- j lasdt. He could not overstep certain recognised boundaries of convention, end to enter a man's house unasked was colossal Impudence. Beyond this, he realised that he could have accomplished nothing; the advantage would have been hers. Nor could he meet her as she came out, for again the odds would have been largely in her favor. No. the encounter must be when they two were alone. She must be sui prised. She must have no time to ue her ready wit An idea presented Itself. It appealed to him at that moment as quite clever and "Walt!" he called to the driver. He dived among the carriages and «a*t aad^ presently be foqnd what he the into bis mind too keenly to be mists has He sew theeedef tea tf initios; end he wet about the a> , fair w*k hh nenal •reetaeee It waa sxsssrsuBGte .

j regularly employed in her service, he ' would have to return to the hotel; but ; he came. from the garage, there was ; Every man is said to have his price, and -a French chauffeur might prove no notable exception to the rule. "Are you driver for Madame da Toscana?" Courtlandt asked of tlje man lounging in the forward eeat The chauffeur looked hard at his questioner, and on finding that he satisfied the requirements of a gentleman, grumbled an affirmative. The limousine was well known in Paris, and be was growing weary of these endless Inquiries. "Are you in her employ directly, or do you come from the garage?" "I am from the garage, but I drive mademoiselle's car most of the time., especially at night. It is not madame but mademoiselle, monsieur." "My mistake." A slight pause. It was rather a difficult moment for Courtlandt. The chauffeur waited i wonderlugly. "Would you like to make ' five hundred francs?" | "How, monsieur?" Courtlandt should have been warnea | by the tone, which contained no unusual interest or eagerness. . I "Permit me to remain in mademoij selle's car till she comee. I wish to , ride with her to her apartment" ! The chauffeur laughed. He stretched I I his legs. "Thanks, monsieur. It is j j very dull waiting. Monsieur knows a 1 good joke." j And to Courtlandt's dismay he real- j lzed that his proposal had truly been | accepted as a Jeet "1 am not joking. I am In earnest. ' Five hundred francs. On the word of j a gentleman I mean mademoiselle no | harm. I am known to her. All she j has to do is to appeal to yon, and you stop the car and summon the po- | lice." The chauffeur drew In his legs and I leaned toward his tempter. "Monsieur. | if you are not jesting, then you are a madman. Who are you? What do I know about you ? I never saw you be- ' and for two seasons I have drivmademoiselle in Paris. She wears beautiful jewels tonight. How do I ' that you are not a gentlemanly thief? Ride home with mademoiselle! I You are crazy. Make yourself scarce, monsieur; In one minute I shall call j the police." "Blockhead ! " English of this order -the Frenchman perfectly understood. "La, la!" be I cried, rising to execute his threat. Courtlandt was furious, but his fury , was directed at himself as much as at the trustworthy young man getting j I down from the limousine. His eager- ! ness had led him to mistake stupidity for cleverness. He bad gone about the I affair with all the clumsiness of a boy who was making hiB first appearance at the stage entrance. It was mightily disconcerting, too, to have found an honest man when he was in desperate need of a dishonest one. He had faced with fine courage all sorts of danger wild animate; but at this moment | hadn't the courage to face a policeman and endeavor to explain, in a tongue, a situation at once so delicate and so singularly open to misconstruction. So. for the second time in his life he took to his heels. Of the first time, more anon. He scramback to his own car, slammed the door, and told the driver to drop him at the Grand. However, he did not reto the hotel. Mademoiselle da Toecana's chaufscratched his chin in perplexity. frightening off his tempter he recognised that now he would never be able to find oat who he was. He should have played with htm until mademoiselle came out. She would have known Instantly. That would have been the time for the police. To hide In the oar! What the devil! Only a madwould have offered such a proposition. The man had been either an American or an Englishman, for all his accuracy In the tongue. Bahl Perhe had beard her sing that night, and had come away from the Opera.' moonstruck. It was not an isolated case. The fools were always pestering him, but no one had ever offered so uncommon a bribe; five hundred franca. Mademoiselle might not believe that part of the tale. Mademoiselle was clever. There was a standing agreement between them that she would always give blm half of whatever was offered him in the way of bribes. It paid. It was easier to sell his loyalty to bur for two hundred and fifty francs than to betray her for five hundred. She had yet to find him untruthful. and tonight he would be as frank as he had always been. Bet who was this fellow In the Bavarian hat, who petrolled the sidewalk? He had been watching him when the madman approached. For an hour or more he had walked ap and down, never going twenty feet beyond the limousine He ecmldat see the fane. The long dark eoat had n military cut about the ktps and tei A 4mm. fimtaslHtestentbn ginae. o at the li I . t. vwd HeeUm > i I ■■ nil teSlTO-

» He had to wait only half an hour for I her appearance. He opened the door i and saw to it that she was comforti ably seate'd; then he paused by the I window, touching his cap. "What is it, Francois?" I , "A gentleman offered me five huni dred francs, mademoiselle, if I would ( permit- him to hide In the car." I . i "five hundred francs? To hide in , . the car? Why didn't you call the po- - lieer' i "I started to, mademoiselle, but he I , ran away." j - j "Oh! What was he like?" The , prima donna dropped the bunch of r roees on the seat beside her. . "Oh. he looked well enough. He had 9 the air of a gentleman. He' was tall, i, with light hair and mustache. But as ' 3' I bad never seen him before, and as mademoiselle wore some fine jewels, t I bade him be off." r "Would you know him again V 1 "Surely mademoiselle." j 'The next time anyone bothers you. call the police. You have done well, and I shall remember It Home." l The man in the Bavarian hat hur- - rled back to the third car from ibe limousine, and followed at a reason- . ably safe distance. > ! She shut off the light and closed her j eyes. She reclined against the cushion 1 once more, striving not to think. Once, 3 i her hands shut tightly. Never, never. , i never! She pressed down the burning thoughts by recalling the bright • scenes at the ambassador's, the real ; l | generous applause that had followed ! her two songs. Ah, how that man 1 . I Paderewskl played! They two had f cost the ambassador eight thousand > francs. Fame and fortune! Fortune 3 she could understand; but fame! What l j was It? Upon a time she believed 6be - | had known what fame wae; but that I had been when she was striving for 1 It. A glowing article in a newspaper, , a portrait in a magazine, rows upon i rows of curious eyes and a patter of I hands upon bands; that was alL and - for this she had given the best o?~1»qr - life, and she was only twenty-five. 9 The limousine stopped at last. The man In the Bavarian hat saw hei r alight. His car turned and disappeared. ! I It had taken him a week to discover i, where she lived. His lodgings were ] on the other side of the Seine. After I reaching them he gave crisp orders to I the driver, who set his machine off at t top speed. The man in the Bavarian

"Make Youreetf Scarce, Monsieur^? , .

h hat entered his room and lighted the „ gas. The room was bare and cheaply - furnished. He took off his coat bnt 1 retained his hat, pulling it down still I farther over his eyes. His face was al- ■»_ j ways in shadow. A round chin, two | full red lips, scantily covered by a ® j blond mustache were all that could be seen. He began to walk the floor im"j patiently, stopping and listening whenI ever be heard a sound. He waited ; less than an hour for the return of the * | car. It brought two men. They were I well-dressed, smoothly-shaven, with e keen eyes and intelligent faces. Their i host, who had never seen either of his guests before, carelessly waved his hand toward the table where there ! were two chairs. He himself took his e stand by the window and looked out as he talked. In another boar the room 8 was dark and the street deserted. In the meantime the prima donna ^ gave a sigh of relief. She was home. y It was nearly two o'clock. She would D sleep till noon, and Saturday and SunT day would be hers. She went n» the stairs lnetead of the lift, and though the hall was dark, she knew * bar way. She unlocked the door ef , the apartment and entered, swinging _ the door behind her. As the eet wes . ..nnau,^^^ «Hc!" * **"

Next, she stepped before the mirror over the mantel, touched her hair lightly, detached the tiara of emeralds ! ... and became as Inanimate as marble. She saw another face. She never knew how long the interval of eilenee was. She turned slowly. "Yes, it is II" said the man. Instantly she turned again to the mantel and picked up a magazine re-. ' volver. She leveled it at him. "Leave this room, or I will shoot." Courtlandt advanced toward her Flowly. "Do so," he said. "I ahould much prefer a bullet to that look." "I am In earnest." She was very while, hut her hand was steady. He continued to advance. There followed a crash. The smell of burning powder filled the room. The Burmese gong clanged shrilly and whirled ! j wildly. Courtlandt felt his hair stir in I "You must hate me indeed," he said j quietly, as the sense of terror died j away. He folded his arms. "Try j again; there ought to be halT a dozen ; bullets left. No? Then, good-by!" j He left the apartment without another word or look, and as the door closed j him there was a kind of finality ( in the clicking of the latch. J The revolver clattered to the floor, 1 and the woman who had fired it leaned heavily against the mantel, covering her eyes. "Nora, Nora!" cried a startled voice from a bedroom adjoining. "What has ; happened? Mon Dieu, what ia it?" A j i pretty, sleepy-eyed young woman. In ' a night-dress, rushed Into the room. She flung her arms about the singer. . "Nora, my dear, my dear!" "He forced his way In. I thought ' - to frighten him. It went off accident- 1 ally. Oh, Celeste, Celeste, I might have killed him ! " , Jhe other drew her head down on ' her shoulder, and listened. She could hear voices in the lower ball, a shout of warning, a patter of steps; then the hall door slammed. After that, silence, ] save for the faint mellowing vibrations j of the Bernese gong. CHAPTER IV. Captive or Runaway. At the age of twenty-six Donald Abbott had become a prosperous and dls- ' tlnguished painter In water colors. | His work was individual/ and at the j same time It was delicate and charm- j Ing. One saw his Italian landscapes as through a filmy gauze; the almond ] blossoms of Sicily, the rose-laden walls , of Florence, the vineyards of Chlantl, . • the poppy-glowing Campagna ont of i Rome. His Italian lakes had brought j him fame. He knew very little of the | grind and hunger that attended the j careers of his whilom associates. His | father had left him some valuable pat- i enta— wash-tubs, carpet-cleaners and I other labor-saving devices — and the royalties from these were quite suf--j ficient to keep him pleasantly housed. His earnings (not inconsiderable, : for tourists found much to admire in both the pictures and the artist) he | spent in gratifying his mild extravac gances. So there were no lines in his handsome, boyish, beardless face; and his eyes were unusually clear and happy. Perhaps once or twice, since bis majority, he had returned to America to prove that he was not an ex- ■ patriate, though certainly he was one, I the only tie existing betwsen him and : his native land being the bankers who regularly honored his drafts. And who shall condemn him for preferring Italy to the desolate center of New York state, where good servants and good weather are as rare as are flawless emeralds? Half after three, on Wednesday aft- 1 ernoon, Abbott stared moodily at the weather-tarnished group by Dalou In i ; the Luxembourg gardens — the Triumph of Silenus. His gaze was de- | . ceptlve, for the rollicking old bibulous j I scoundrel had not stirred his critical i f sense nor Impressed the delicate films ' I of thought. He was looking through I the bronze, into the far-away things. He had arrived early that morning, all ; I the way from Como, to find a thunderbolt driven in at hie feet Across his knees fluttered an open newspaper, the Paris edition of the New York ; Herald. All that kept it from blowing away was the tense if sprawling finj gers of his right hand; his left hung ■ limply at his side. i It was not possible. Such things did ; 1 not happen these unromantic days to I musical celebrities. She had written that on Monday night she would sing i , in La Bobeme and on Wednesday, I Faust She had since vanished, vanished as completely «s though she had taken wings and flown away. It was unreal. She had left the apartment In the Avenue de Wagram on Saturday afternoon, and nothing had be'en eeen or beard of her since. At the last moment they had had to find a substitute for her part In the Puccini . opera. The maid testified that ber j mistress had gone on an errand of mercy. She had not mentioned where, but she bad said that she would return in time to dress for dinner, which proved conclusively that something out of the ordinary had befallen ber. i The automobile that had carried her away had not been her own, and the chauffeur was unknown. None of the ( director® at the opera had been noti- : fled of any change in the slnger'a plana. She had disappeared, and they j were deeply concerned. Singers were generally erratic, full of sudden indispositions, unaoooont&bto whims; bat ' the Signorica da Tnanens was one in r a thousand. 81m never broke as en- : gmgezneat. H aba wae M aba said se ' " <*ee: » m mTrn a» j

mstion. A man had tried to bribe the ' singer's chauffeur, while she was sing- , teg at the Austrian ambassador's. The ! i chauffeur waa able to describe the ' p stranger with some accuracy. Then | 1 came the bewildering episode in the • ' I apartment; the pistol-shot, the flight j ot the man, the astonished concierge . 1 to whom the beautiful American wonld ' offer no explanations. The man (who^ J1 tallied with the description given by the chauffeur) had obtained entrance 1 under false representations. He claimed to be an emissary with im- . < portant instructions from the opera. .< There was nothing unusual in this; 1 I messengers came at all hours, and sel- 1 dom the same one twice; so the concierge's suspicions had not been aroused. Another item. A tall hand- < ! some Italian had called at eleven I o'clock Saturday morning, but the eig- j ] ! norina had sent down word that she i could not see him. The maid recalled j j that her mistress had intended to dine , '1 ; that night with the Italian gentleman, i ■ His name she did not know, having I fl I been with the slgnorina but two weeks. ! !] | Celeste Fournler, the celebrated ; ,t J young piaxilBt and composer, who . < | shared the apartment with the mlse- 1 log prima donna, stated that she I hadn't the slightest idea where her i friend was. She was certain that mis- i | fortune had overtaken her in some in- ] explicable manner. To implicate the i j Italian was out of the question. He •< . was well-known to them both. He had , arrived again at seven, Saturday, and i was very much surprised that the slgnorina had not yet returned. He had , | waited till nine, when he left, greatly t 1 . disappointed. He was the Barone dl ] Monte-Verdi In Calabria, formerly military attache at the Italian embassy ] j In Berlin. Sunday noon Mademoiselle > ! Fournler had notified the authorities. ] She did not know, but she > felt sure • that the blond stranger knew more i than anyone else. And here was the ' | | end of things. The police found them- : i selves at a standstill. They searched | j the hotels but without success; the i blond stranger could not be found. I Abbott's eyes were not happy and ] pleasant just now. They were dull and blank with the reaction of the i stunning blow. He, too, was certain ■ of the Barone. Much as he secretly ' , hated the Italian, he knew him to be a ; fearle6s and an honorable man. But | , j who could thla blond stranger be who | j ' appeared so stelsterly in the two ,

"Leave the Room, or 1 Will Shoot" ;

{ scenes? From where had he come? . i Why had Nora refused to explain j i about the pistol-shot? Any woman had a perfect right to shoot a man ' who forced his way Into her apart- ! ment. Waa he one of those mad fools who had Tallen In love with her, and [ had become desperate? Or was It | some one she knew and against whom j she did not wish to bring any charges? Abducted! And she might be, at this | very moment, suffering all sorts of inI dignities. It was horrible to be so | helpless. j The sparkle of the sunlight upon the I ferrule of a cane, extending over his shoulder, broke in on his agonizing I thoughts. He turned, an angry word j on the tip of his tongue. He expected ^ Jto see some tourist who wanted to be ' Informed. ( "Ted Courtlandt!" He Jumped up, ( overturning the stool. "And where the t dickens did you come from? I thought i you were In the Orient?" . I "Just got back. Abby." • 1 The two shook hands and eyed each iother with the apprising scrutiny ef [ friends of long standing. "You don't change any," said Ab- ■ bott "Nor do you. I've been standing | behind you fully two minutes. What ! r were you glooming about? Old Silenus j ' offend you?" "H^ve you read the Herald this i ' j jmorunc?" i ' "I never read It nowadays. They | ere always giving me a roast of some kind. Whatever I do they are bound I to mtesnnqtrne It." Courtlandt stooped end righted the stool, bet set down on the gvees, hie feet to the path. "Wiet's * ithe a oektof Have the? besn alter t n»r [ n ^ ^ "j iu

I "It looks like one of their advertlel ling dodges. I know something abou^ singers," Courtiindt added. "I *«•$ ! ginecred a musical comedy once." "You do not know anything about cried Abbott hotly. ! "That's true enough." Courtlandt the article, folded the pa pel 1 'and returned It, and began digging ia the path with his cane. i, "Bnt what I want to know is. who devil is this mysterious blom^ 1 stranger?" Abbott flourished the pai | again. "I tell you, it'a no adverj . Using dodge. She's been abducted^ The blond!" Courtlandt ceased boring Into th«< earth. "The story says that she rtn fused to expiate this blond cbap'e i In her room. What do yo^ make of that?" | "Perhaps you think the fellow wad , her press agent?" was the retort. | "Lord, no! But it proves that shs) I 'knew him, that ehe did not want the police to find him. At leaat, not at] that momeht. Who's the Italian?" sud( denly. | '1 can vouch for him. He is a gen^ tleman, honorable as the day la lon& even If he Is hot-headed at timei< Count him out of it It's this unknown* tell you. Revenge for some Imagslight It's as plate as the nose on your face." "How long hffve you known herf asked Courtlandt presently. "About two years. She's the gens 'of the whole lot. GenUe, kindly, untouched by flattery. . . . Why, you must have seen and heard her!" "I have." Courtlandt stared into the he had dug. "Voice like an angel's, with a face like- Bellini's donna; and all over. But for all that, you will And that her disappearance will turn out to be a diva's whim. Hang 1 Suds, I've had some experience witb singers." I "You are a blockhead!" exploded the younger man. > "All right, I am." Courtlandt laughed. "Come on over to the £oufi flet and have a drink with me." | "I'm not drinking today," tersely^ i "There's too much ahead for me tcj do."" "Going to start out to, find her? OhJ Galahad!" Ironically. "Abby, yon used to be a sport. I'll wager a hundred against a bottle of pop that tomorrow or next day she'll turn up serenely, with a statement that she was Indisposed, sorry" not to have notified the directors, and all that. They» do It repeatedly every season." j "But an errand of mercy, the strange automobile which cannot be found? The engagement to dine wlthi the baron? Celeste Founder's statement? You can't get around thesej things. I tell you, Nora isn't thatj kind. She's too big in heart and mlndj to stoop to any such devices," vehe^ mently. i "Nora! That looks pretty eeriousj Abby. You haven't gone and made aj fool of yourself, have you?" "What do you call making a fool ofl ^nyself?" truculently. "You aren't a suitor, are you? Ani accepted suitor?" unruffled, ratherj kindly. "No, but I would to heaven that I) ] were!" Abbott Jammed the newspa-, ; per into his pocket and slung the stool) j over his arm. "Come on over to the j studio until I get some money." "You are really going to start A , search?" | "I really am. I'd start one Juet as i quickly for you, if I heard that yoa ! had vanished under mysterious clr1 cumstances." "1 believe you honestly would." "You are- an old misanthrope. I ! hope some womau puts the hook into i you some day. Where did you pick up j the grouch? Some of your dusky ' princesses give you the go-by?" I "You, too. Abby?" ' "Oh, rot! Of course I never believed any of that twaddle. Only, I've ' got a sore head today. If you knew | Nora as well as I do, you'd underCourtlandt continued toward the | exit, his head forward, his gaze bent ' on the path. He had the air of a man deep In thought, philosophic thought, which leaves the brows unmarred by those corrugations known as "frowns. Yet his thoughts were far from philosophic. Indeed, his soul was in mad turmoil. He could have thrown bis arms toward the blue sky and cursed aloud the fates that had set this new tangle at his feet He longed for the jungles and some mad beast to venc his wrath upon. But he gave no sign.' He had returned with a purpose as; hard and grim as iron; and no obstacle. less powerful than death,' should divert or control him. Abduc- ! tion? Let the public believe what iti i might; he held the key to the mystery. She wae afraid, and had takem . flight. So J>e it. ( To be continued.) , Deafness Cannot Be Cured by local applications, as they cannot reach the diseased portion of tho ear. There is only one way to euro deafness, and that is by constitutional r.-modlcs. Deafness is caused by an inflamed condition of the mucous lining of the Eustachian Tube. When this tube Is inflamed {ou have a rumbling sound or imperfect earing, and when it Is entire.'y cI;ao«t Deafness Is the result, and unleej the Inflammation can be taken out ar.J this tube restored to its normal condition, heeging will be destroyed torercr: nine