But all this harmonious blending of natural sounds and sights was broken by the sudden, harsh intrusion of human discord. Hearing footsteps near at hand, Pearl turned quickly to see her father standing almost at her elbow. Lean, gnarled, grizzled and thorny as ever, he was gazing searchingly at her from under his overhanging, bushy brows.

So unexpected was the sight of him that Pearl showed plainly her uncontrollable surprise, which, courageous as she was, was not without a faint touch of fear. Her upper lip drew back from her teeth at the corners of the mouth and the frown so like his own darkened her brow. Rising, she had sprung to the doorway, stretching her arms from post to post as if to prevent him from entering, and he, noting that unconscious attitude of protection for the one within, smiled sourly.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was harsh and so low that it was barely audible.

"No harm to you or him, either, so don't be scared. I got more important business in hand. I didn't come to quarrel with you, Pearl. I came to talk to you like you were a sensible girl." He had been rolling a cigarette between his fingers, and now he lighted it, and for a moment watched the smoke wreaths drift upward.

"Patience takes most of the tricks in life, I've learned, so I waited until I heard that he was all right again"—he jerked his thumb toward the cabin—"and then I waited until you had time to think, and that's all I'm here to ask you to do, my girl, think."

Again he gazed deeply at her, nodding his head as if to emphasize his words. Gallito could be impressive, even magnetic when he chose, and he chose now.

"I can think a-plenty," returned Pearl curtly, "but what is it you want me to study about now? If it's about signing up with Sweeney, I can tell you once and forever that it's no use. You're just wasting your breath."

His face darkened a little, his eyes gave one quick, wicked flash, but he controlled his temper. "Maybe, maybe," he said placatingly, "but that ain't all I came to talk about. I guess I've lived long enough to know that it's no use to talk to a woman about her interests when she's lost her head about some man." He showed his teeth in a wolfish and contemptuous smile. "No, I ain't such a fool as to waste my breath that way. You are an awful headstrong and wilful girl. Carraja! I do not know where you get such qualities. But somewhere back in your head you have inherited from me, your father, a grain of sense and reason, and because of that I come here to-day, not to try and coax you, no, I know better than that, but to talk to you as man to man." He paused here as if to let some underlying meaning in his words impress her, and she, conscious of this, felt a sudden shiver of apprehension run over her, a momentary despair, as if she were being entangled in some yet invisible net whose meshes were being drawn tight about her. A quick glance at Gallito failed to restore her confidence. There was a look upon his face which did not betoken any expectation of defeat. Again she shivered; he had spoken truly, he was not one to plead, and he would not be here unless he felt that he was in possession of certain arguments which must inevitably coerce her to yield.

"Now, Pearl," his tone was still placating, "for your own sake and for the sake of your future, I am not willing that you should miss this great offer which Sweeney has made you. You have already treated him badly once. He knows he cannot depend on you. How many times do you think he will stand that? You can't afford to do it. I have been holding him off and holding him off until I can't do it any more, and we must now come to a final agreement. And one thing more," he stopped a second to light another cigarette, "what about Hughie? You and he have worked out a lot of dances together. He's got his heart set on traveling with you and playing for you. I don't see how you got the heart to spoil all his plans." For the first time there was a touch of real emotion in his voice; it was Hughie, not Pearl, who held the first place in his heart.

A quiver passed over Pearl's face. "Oh, I am sorry about Hughie," she cried, "but what can I do? I can't leave Harry. It's no use asking me to do that." She looked up at Gallito and, in spite of her tears, there was an immovable resolve on her face and, seeing this, a slow, dark flush crept up her father's cheeks.

"Listen, Pearl," he said, and although he still held the manner of reasoning amicably with her, there was a touch of iron in his grating voice, "I'm here to make terms with you and to keep the relations which should be between father and daughter, but there are many things to consider when a girl is as obstinate as a pig. Then it is her father's duty to decide for her and to see that she does what an obedient and well-brought up girl should do, and he must use what means are in his power to make her see the right way."

"There are no means in your power to make me see things differently," she said, "yours or anybody else's."

"So!" he said slowly, and flicked the ashes from his cigarette with a hand which trembled slightly. "But all my cards are not played yet. You think that everything shall go your way, but that is not life; no, that is not life. Since you have none of the feelings of respect and obedience which a child should have for a parent, it shall be a game between us. Now, at once, I will play my trump card." There was a grim and saturnine triumph in his voice. "Jose!"

She started and looked at him askance, puzzled and yet fearful. "Jose!" she repeated uncertainly.

"Yes, Jose. Jose has been useful to you, and Jose has spent all his time with you and him." He nodded his head in the direction of the inner room. "I have warned him." There was a quiver of passion and resentment in his voice. "I have pointed out to him again and again the risks that he was running not only for himself, but me. Yet for me—me who has befriended him at the risk of my own life, who has kept him in my cabin for many months, he has no thought, no gratitude. That all goes to Seagreave, Seagreave who stole you and who now lies strapped in his bed unable to help you or Jose or any one else. Well, let Seagreave save him now. And how?" his harsh, mirthless laughter rang out. "Yes, how? Does Seagreave know the secret trails over the mountains? Not he. Then how is our dear Jose to escape? Will you engage to get him safely out of Colina on a railroad train? I think not. Remember there is a big price on his head."

Pearl had shrunk back from him while he was speaking, both horror and fright on her face. "But you can't do that for your own sake," she cried. "It will then be known that you have kept Jose all these months, and that it was he who escaped the night I danced. Do you think the sheriff will forgive you that you lied to him and fooled him? I guess not. And then you sheltered Jose and hid him after that. On your own account you can't let him be taken."

Gallito smiled in unpleasant triumph. "If I should turn state's evidence for so notorious a criminal as Crop-eared Jose I should certainly get immunity myself. I was weak, yes, in my unfortunate desire to reform a fellow countryman, but finding all my efforts hopeless, I at last saw my duty and gave him up."

For the moment fear almost overcame Pearl, and then her high spirit flared. "And you would give poor Jose up," she said. "I would never have believed it, and yet I see you really would do it, just to have me obey your will. But you can't do it, and you won't do it. I tell you now, if you even dare threaten such a thing, I will send for the sheriff and I will tell him the whole story. I will let him know what you are. And more, too"—she made quick steps toward him—"I will have you arrested for assaulting Harry."

"Ho, ho!" he laughed loudly. "Self-defense, my girl, self-defense. Who could prove anything else? Who would take your word under the circumstances?"

"But I will tell more, much more," she cried, all aflame now. "I will tell of all the cut-throats and thieves you have sheltered in your cabin from time to time. I know their names and I will prove what I say. I will show them the chamber in the mine where Jose is hiding. What will they think of that? You have a high standing in Colina and in other places. You are respected. Are you willing to give all that up just so you can force me to sign with Sweeney? I don't believe it, I won't believe it. But as sure as you don't help Jose to escape, so sure will I do what I say. Oh," she stopped suddenly, a sob in her voice, "oh, here comes Bob, Bob and Hughie!" For the first time she left the doorway in which she had remained protectingly, and ran forward to meet the two who were rapidly mounting the hill.

"Oh, Bob!" she cried. "Oh, Hughie! I knew you two wouldn't go back on me. I knew you'd come sooner or later, both of you."

Hughie clung to her, one arm around her, and Flick's hard and impassive face softened a little as he gazed at her. "Why, Pearl, what's the matter?" he asked. "You look pale, and tears! Why, that ain't a mite like you! Has he been cutting up rough," he glanced toward her father, "and worrying you?"

"Why didn't you come before?" She lifted her shadowed eyes to his.

He winced a little, his mouth twisting slightly. "Ain't it enough that I've come now?" Something in his voice conveyed even to her who had so long taken his unwearying devotion without question and as a matter of course what it had cost him to seek her again.

They had drawn near the cabin by this time and Flick looked at Gallito's frowning face a moment. "Are you needing me, Pearl?" His drawling voice was as lazily indifferent as ever, but his glance held an intimation of danger for Gallito which the old man did not fail to understand.

"Maybe," Pearl replied in a low voice. "You 'most always come when I need you, Bob."

"I guess your interference ain't needed now, Flick," began Gallito. "I can—"

Hughie ran his hand caressingly down the old Spaniard's sleeve. "No need to tell old Bob that we're a united family, Pop," he cried. "Why I'm already composing a wedding march." He caught his adopted father's hand in his.

At this mute expression of affection from the being who was nearest his heart Gallito's face softened a little, although he gazed back at Bob Flick with a baffled and still scornful smile.

"Well," he said reluctantly, "it ain't often I confess I'm beat, but I guess I'm too old to stand both Hughie and the girl taking sides against me, not to speak of you, Flick, and I know if it came to a choice between me and those two where you'd stand."

"There ain't going to be any sides taken," said Flick. "We are going to give in and take what's coming to us, Gallito, like sensible men, whether we like it or not. When's the wedding, Pearl?"

A great, beautiful wave of crimson swept over her face.

"Harry wants it right away," she said.

"The sooner the better," remarked Bob Flick dryly. "And, by the way"—he put his hand in his pocket and drew out the little black leather bag she had given Jose—"Jose sent you back this for a wedding present. Honest, he didn't keep out more than three stones. Why," a flash of alarm on his face, "what's the matter, Hughie?"

The blind boy was standing a little apart from the rest. His head was thrown up and his face was pale. He was nervously clinching and unclinching his hands, but with that exception his attitude was one of tenseness and singular stillness, as if every faculty were concentrated.

"There's something about," he gasped, "something bad. I can't tell what it is yet, but I'll know in a minute. Ah-hh!" He rushed across the open space before the cabin and into the trees that grew thickly at the side.

It took Flick but a second to follow him, and the next moment Pearl and her father heard him call. "Come out. I got you covered, but I'll thank you first for your gun."

Gallito also started forward now, but before he had taken more than a step or two Hugh emerged first from the underbrush, followed by Hanson and then by Flick.

Seeing who it was, Pearl had shrunk back into the shadow of the room, but then, as if forcing herself to an unpleasant task, she came forward again and leaned against the door post, nonchalant and disdainful in spite of her pallor and the faint trembling of her lower lip.

Hanson swept off his hat and bowed low with exaggerated courtesy and much of his old swagger. The heavy dissipation of the last few months was evident in a marked and shocking way. His figure was gross and bloated, and his bold, ruddy good looks had vanished; his swollen face was purple and the features seemed curiously thickened. The hand which held his hat trembled constantly.

"Again we meet," he cried. "Well, under the circumstances, I've no objection. You pleasant little band of thieves have got ahead of the honest man once or twice, but not for keeps. This is my day, thank you. I'm not giving away information ahead of time again, but, just between friends, I'll mention that the sheriff is overdue at Nitschkan's cabin, where Jose happens to be. They'll be up after the rest of you presently."

"Carraja!" Gallito ground his teeth, "and I left him at the mine." Then quickly to Pearl, "Suppose he should get away from them. Are both horses in the stable?"

"Both," she said. "Hurry, you get on one and I will have the other ready for him. Come, I will help you. Hugh, get down to Nitschkan's and warn them if you can."

Gallito ran through the cabin after her. This commotion roused Seagreave and after calling once or twice to Pearl and receiving no answer, he made his way to the doorway, appearing there, thin and white, still upon crutches.

"Hello, Seagreave," called Hanson, still with his air of bravado. "You've been a long time coming to that door. I been sitting back in the bushes watching for you as patient as a cat watches a mouse-hole, with my gun all cocked and my finger on the trigger, ready to pick you off the minute you showed up. Nothing against you personally, but the Black Pearl didn't spare me, so why should I—oh, you needn't reach for your gun. Good old Bob, ain't that what the Pearl calls him, has got me covered."

"So have I for that matter," said Seagreave.

"All right, if it amuses you." Hanson shrugged his shoulders indifferently and leaned up against a tree which, growing before the cabin, had escaped the sweep of the avalanche. "Lord! Don't I know what you two cut-throats stand ready to do to me? And no one any the wiser. Well, what the hell do I care? But say, Seagreave, since we're all having this nice little afternoon tea talk together, sociable as a Sunday school, it might do you good to take some account of the has-beens. Here's Bob, he had her before I did, but that ain't taking away the fact that I had her once, by God! I guess everybody understands that there's more behind those emeralds than the pretty story we've all heard so often. The Black Pearl certainly ain't cheap."

"Let him alone, Harry." Bob Flick's voice arresting Seagreave in his swift rush toward Hanson had never been more liquid, more languid. All through Hanson's speech his face had not shown even a flicker of expression. "This is mine. It always has been mine, and I've known it ever since you and me, Mr.——, I never can recall your name, but, then, yellow dogs ain't entitled to 'em, anyway—met in the desert."

"I guess that's straight. You always had it in for me from the first night I saw her. Well, you'll only be finishing what she begun. She broke me; she drove me straight to hell. Maybe it was a mis-spent life I offered her, but when I met her I had money and success, I wasn't a soak. I still had the don't-give-a-damn snap in me, and, even if you're middle-aged, that's youth. But she's like a fever that you can't shake off. And she don't play fair. But she's the only one. You know that, Bob Flick, and she didn't have the right—"

"I ain't ever questioned her right, Hanson"—Flick used his name for the first time—"and I'm standing here to prove it now. For the sake of Miss Gallito, because she once took notice of you, I'm going to treat you like you was a gentleman. Here's your gun. Take your twenty paces. And, remember, this ain't to wound, it's to kill."

Hanson took the pistol and measured off the paces. Then he turned and looked from one man to another with a smile of triumph on his evil face. "Broke by the Black Pearl and then shot by her dog! That's a nice finish. I can shoot some myself, but I ain't in your class, Flick, and you know it. I guess not. I prefer my own route." He looked toward the cabin, where it seemed to him that Pearl or her shadow wavered a moment in the doorway. "Here's dying to you, honey," and before either man could stop him he lifted his pistol and shot himself through the heart.

* * * * *

In the meantime certain events of more importance than the passing of Hanson, to those involved, were taking place in Mrs. Nitschkan's cabin. As soon as Gallito had left the mine and taken his way up to Seagreave's Jose also had departed from his cell by way of the ravine and had hastened to the abode of Mrs. Nitschkan, where he and Mrs. Thomas were soon absorbed in the composition of various appetizing dishes, for with the connivance of the two women Jose hoped that evening again to subjugate Gallito with the spell of his cookery, and win back the indulgence he had been steadily losing.

The afternoon, then, was passing most pleasantly for both Mrs. Thomas and himself when suddenly the door was flung open and Mrs. Nitschkan, who had been fishing in a creek further down the hill, came dashing in.

"Jose," she cried, "the Sheriff and his boys is all out after you again. There's nobody else they'd want up this way. They couldn't keep under cover all the way, for they had to cross the bridge, and I happened to see 'em then. Get out quick through the trees for Harry's cabin."

"But I don't know the secret trail."

"Gallito does. Anyway, cut for it an' maybe I can throw them off the scent. Gosh a'mighty! Cut for it. They're here."

With one last, hasty kiss on Mrs. Thomas' cheek, Jose was out of the door like a flash.

"Now quick, Marthy." Mrs. Nitschkan had seized a pair of scissors and cut the pocket from her skirt, tucking the roll of bills which it contained into her man's boot. "Cry, Marthy, cry like you never cried before. Go on, I say. Yelpin's your strong suit. Now yelp."

With that she fell to swearing lustily herself and throwing the furniture about, even turning the stove over and sending a great shower of soot about the room.

At the height of all this noise and confusion, dominated, it must be said, by Mrs. Thomas's loud and, to do her justice, sincere weeping, there came a thunderous knocking on the door, and without waiting to have it answered the sheriff threw it open and stepped in.

"Holy smoke!" he cried. "What you knockin' down the cook-stove for?"

"'Cause I'm fightin' mad, that's why," returned Mrs. Nitschkan tartly, "and I sure am glad to see you. I been robbed, that's what. Ain't that so, Marthy?"

Mrs. Thomas lifted her tear-stained face and corroborated this with mournful nods.

"Whilst I was takin' a little nap," went on Mrs. Nitschkan excitedly, "a rascal brother of Gallito's who shouldn't never have been let out of jail cut the pocket clean out of my skirt and stole my roll. Look here!" exhibiting the jagged hole, and also the empty pocket which lay upon the floor, "I just waked up to find him gone. He can't have got far, though. I guess he thinks I ain't on to that rock chamber Gallito blasted out for him in the Mont d'Or, but he showed it to Marthy here, and she showed it to me. Come on, and we'll get down there quick."

"Some of us will." The sheriff was inclined to believe her, and yet he was still suspicious. A rock chamber in the Mont d'Or! That certainly accounted for the miraculous escape of last winter.

"Pedro?" he asked. "Are you sure it ain't Jose?"

"I ain't heard of any Jose, have you Marthy?" asked Mrs. Nitschkan innocently. "Pedro was his name. But come on quick."

"Two of you boys search this cabin and the woods around," ordered the sheriff, "and two of you go up to Seagreave's cabin. The rest come along with me."

Led by Mrs. Nitschkan, still volubly lamenting her loss, they started down the hill toward the ravine, when the sheriff suddenly looked up to see upon the crest of the hill just before it dipped into a descending slope two horsemen at full gallop, both horses and riders outlined against the sky.

"Our men are up there, boys," he cried. "Quick. I've got the fastest horse in the county, and we'll get them before they get to three rocks."

He was back to his horse again and on it and up the hill before his men were fairly in the saddle. It was a race after that, and so rapidly did he gain on Gallito and Jose that it looked as if his prediction of getting them before they reached three rocks was about to be verified. "I must do it, I must do it," he kept muttering to himself, "for it's bad going after that, and it'll take us all some time to find him."

He was lessening the distance between them with every long, powerful stride of his horse, but already the three rocks, gaunt and high, loomed before him as if forming an impassable barrier across the road. Suddenly, just as Jose and Gallito had almost reached them and the sheriff was gaining upon the fugitives in great leaps, he saw them swerve their horses aside and dash into a clump of trees to the right of the rocks.

"Oh, the fools! the fools! I got 'em now. Instead of going for the rocks, they've made for the trees."

A few minutes later he and his men found the horses ridden by Gallito and Jose blown and hard-breathing among the trees, but no trace could they discover of the men they sought. Beyond the three rocks the character of the hills changed strikingly. Instead of the wide, undulating, wooded plateau, over which riding was so easy, the mountains suddenly seemed split by mighty gashes, a great pocket of crevasses and towering cliffs.

The sheriff and his men beat about aimlessly and conscientiously for several hours, but in vain. Jose and Gallito had long before "hit" the secret trail. So finally the sheriff, who was inclined to put less faith than ever in Hanson's representations, and convinced in his own mind that Gallito was merely conniving at the escape of an unregenerate brother, and that Mrs. Nitschkan's tale was true, called off his men and rode home. "The cuss ain't important," he remarked, "and I guess Gallito'll be glad enough to make up Nitschkan's loss to her and keep her mouth shut."

* * * * *

It was evening. Pearl and Seagreave sat in the door of the cabin. Her head drooped, her hands lay listlessly in her lap, and her brooding gaze was fixed on the soft, dark night. "Oh," she cried at last, "how can I do anything but leave you? Look at the mischief I've done in the world. Look at it!"

Seagreave clasped his arms about her and laid his cheek on hers. "Let's forget it all, Pearl, forget that you've been a firebrand and I've been a quitter, and begin life all over again. There's only one thing in it, anyway, and that's love."

"Just love," she answered softly. "Well, love's enough."



* * * * *



APPLETON'S RECENT BOOKS

NOVELS

JAPONETTE (The Turning Point). By Robert W. Chambers, author of "The Common Law," "The Firing Line," "The Fighting Chance," "Iole," etc. With 26 pictures by Charles Dana Gibson. Inlay on Cover. Cloth, $1.35 net. Postpaid, $1.47.

"Japonette" is one of the most delightful stories Mr. Chambers has ever written. It is the romance of a bewilderingly pretty girl and a young New York society man. Just as they come to know each other, Fate steps in and renders them both penniless by wrecking the great firm in which their fortunes are invested. How the idle young man, without occupation or profession, is moved to swing about and take up the business of life in dead earnest is told with the brilliance and animation which are Mr. Chambers's chief assets. "Perhaps there are some people who would not like 'Japonette'; if such there are one ought to be sorry for them."—Boston Transcript.

THE PRICE SHE PAID. By David Graham Phillips, author of "The Grain of Dust," "The Husband's Story," "Old Wives for New," etc. 12mo. Cloth, $1.30 net. Postpaid, $1.42.

"The Price She Paid" is the story of a young woman, raised in luxury and idleness, who by the sudden death of her father, is thrown upon her own resources. Talented and determined, she sets out to be an opera singer, but the way is long and rough and she is obliged to pay the full price before success crowns her efforts. "Little idea is conveyed in a brief outline of the terseness and vigor of the story. It is a very significant book for a variety of reasons."—Philadelphia Press. "It is a question whether among the dozens of flesh and blood people whom David Graham Phillips has created there be one more genuinely real than this Mildred Gower. Again the marvel of the man is upon us in the full measure of his realistic artistry."—Washington Star.

THE FAVOR OF KINGS. By Mary Hastings Bradley. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.30 net. Postpaid, $1.42.

The most spectacular romance of English history—the story of beautiful, proud, ill-fated Anne Boleyn, second wife of Henry VIII and mother of Queen Elizabeth. "There is no moment when the long, thrilling tale, well constructed, well characterized, crammed with rapid action, fails to interest and convince."—Chicago Record-Herald.

THE SHERIFF OF BADGER. By George Pattullo. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25 net. Postpaid, $1.37.

A vigorous romance of the cowboy country. A story of the modern cowboy of the Southwest, the man who does not live with a gun in his hand, but who fights to a finish when necessity demands it. The Sheriff of Badger is a flesh and blood individual of pluck and quiet daring. His breezy adventures will keep you keenly interested and highly entertained.

THE MAKER OF OPPORTUNITIES. By George Gibbs, author of "The Bolted Door," "The Forbidden Way," etc. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25 net. Postpaid, $1.37.

A bright, breezy story about a young club man, who spends all of his time and most of his comfortable income in providing matrimonial and other opportunities for his friends. "Very entertaining, full of dash and vivacity and of cleverness."—Richmond Times Dispatch.

THE DIARY OF A FRESHMAN. By Charles Macomb Flandrau, author of "Viva Mexico," "Prejudices," etc. New edition. 12mo. Cloth, 75 cents net. Postpaid, 87 cents.

This classic of undergraduate life relates the adventures and misadventures of a youth fresh from a Western home, who is suddenly dropped into the turmoil of his opening year at a great Eastern college. From the moment that "Mamma left for home" right up to Class Day, the author chronicles minutely and most amusingly the experiences of his freshman hero.

HALCYONE. By Elinor Glyn, author of "The Reason Why," "His Hour," etc. Cloth, $1.30 net. Postpaid, $1.42.

Mrs. Glyn's new novel is a very modern love story in which the principals are a dreamy little girl—a finished product of Greek life and thought—and a rising young politician, with a fine old professor as the god in the machine. The scenes are laid in a beautiful park in England, and on the Continent. It is an up-to-date idyll, rich in romance, rapid in action, pure, clean, wholesome, inspiring. The host of readers of "The Reason Why" will find this new story exactly to their liking.

SHARROW. By the Baroness von Hutten, author of "Pam," "Our Lady of the Beeches," "He and Hecuba," etc. Cloth, $1.30 net. Postpaid, $1.42.

"Sharrow" is a story of complicated plot woven around the possession of a wonderful old estate owned by the Sharrows since the Middle Ages. "It is a book of flesh and blood and character, of individuality and power. Real people walk through its pages and real motives and emotions direct the movement of the story."—New York Evening Sun. "The spell of Sharrow is cast over the reader before he knows it."—Baltimore News.

FAITH BRANDON. By Henrietta Dana Skinner, author of "Espiritu Santo," "Heart and Soul," etc. With Frontispiece. Cloth, $1.30 net. Postpaid, $1.42.

Mrs. Skinner's new novel has for its heroine a most piquant and delightful American girl, who, at the age of sixteen, falls in love with a Russian prince. He is a man of lofty character with a serious purpose in life and devotes his energies to political journalism. The course of true love runs anything but smoothly. The story is full of action and incident, and has especial interest through its warmth and color, its pictures of life in Russia and the humanness of its characters. "A novel of purpose as well as an enchaining romance."—Springfield Union.

Appleton's Recent Books

* * * * *

THE MYSTERY OF THE SECOND SHOT.

By Rufus Gillmore. Illustrated with Pen-and-Ink Sketches by Herman Heyer. 12mo. Cloth, $1.25 net. Postpaid, $1.37.

Bertrand Newhall, a scheming Boston banker, gets control of an old, reliable trust company, wrecks it to bolster up another business, and disappears. Police and reporters hunt him in vain. As Ashley, a reporter, is "combing" the neighborhood of Newhall's home for evidence, a young girl draws him inside a house, where he finds the banker dead, a pistol beside him. The police call it suicide, but Ashley thinks differently, and ultimately he solves a problem quite new in the annals of crime.

THE NAMELESS THING. By Melville Davisson Post, author of "The Gilded Chair," etc. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $1.25 net. Postpaid, $1.37.

A thrilling mystery story. The queer death of a recluse in his library is the main theme. There is absolutely no clue, and the mystery is doubled by the fact that, although the room is shot up and in the greatest disorder, both windows and door are found locked on the inside—the man dead in a pool of his own blood. The clearing up of this mystery leads the reader through many exciting adventures. "Something exceptional in the way of detective stories. It is such stories as these that dignify the art of fiction writing."—Boston Transcript.

THE TREVOR CASE. By Natalie S. Lincoln. Illustrated by Edmund Frederick. 12mo. Cloth, $1.30 net. Postpaid, $1.42.

One of the most ingenious and exciting detective novels of recent years. The scene is Washington. The beautiful young wife of the Attorney-General is found murdered. A burglar is caught leaving the house, but incriminating evidence points to other people high in official and political life. There is a bewildering conflict of clues and a series of startling climaxes before the case is cleared up. Not one reader in fifty can guess the ending.