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Show By CRITTENDEN MARRIOTT Illustrations by IRWIN MYERS ; WNU Servica Copyright v SYNOPSIS That her grandfather left her the architectural monstrosity known as "Dlnsinore's Folly" la, ror esthetic reasons, by no means pleasing to Ethel Dlnsmore. modern mod-ern "flapper." She would refuse the bequest, but her father, millionaire mil-lionaire head of Consolidated Trust, will not allow It. EdlHj visits the place. Perkins, the i caretaker, Is the victim of a matrimonial mishap, his wife having left him. Fred James, newspaper reporter, comes. Mr. Paul, Dlnsmore's right-hand man, proposes to Ed:lh and Is re- ' jected. He takes the rejection In a melodramatic manner. Edith i sees a connection between Perkins' Per-kins' runaway wife and Mr. : Paul. Riding with Fred James, i Edith's horse bolts. The run- ' away Is stopped by a stranger who does not give his name. Edith hereafter calls him M. P. (My I preserver). With her sister, Josephine, and Fred James, Edith attends a prize fight CHAPTER III Continued A I am not going to describe cite Hslit. I rjon't know how to describe It, for onelhing; and it didn't last long, for uutrier. Besides, you probably read limit it Id the papers. It was ver secret, of course, until the second round, and then the police broke In and tried to arrest everybody. They didn't succeed, of course. The place ras arranged with plenty of exits for Ktape In case of a raid Fred called It a raid and as sood as the police began tn hammer down the doors the crowd began to run. They swept right over the place where we were sitting and carried us away with them just as an extra big wave carries away bathers at the seashore. 'Fred and Josephine simply disappeared and I teas left all alone tn the midst of a crowd of "tired" business men who iere crazy to keep their nnmes out of the papers. Of course, I was scared to death, bnl luckily I didn't lose my bead. Probably 1 would have lost It If the crowd h'adD't flung me up against a big, fine, tall man who promptly locked me. behind him and prevented the crowd frotrj crushing me until the i''.ji rush was over. By that time the police had broken In at the door and about half the audience -had vanished out of the windows. The other half was rounded up under guard. Some of the men protested strenuously, strenu-ously, but it didn't seem to do them any good. I heard some one say that the chief had passed the word not to let anyone go and that the officers didn't dare take a chance, no mat'er bow hard a man begged or how important im-portant he was. But imagine my feelings ! 1 know rhat Father would say If I were arrested ar-rested for being at a prize fight. Bur somehow 1 didn't feel as much frightened fright-ened as I might have been. I was siill behind the man who had saved me and I took a lot of comfort in the set of his broad shoulders. Kvery minute I expected him to turn around "at he didn't And he didn't say a ord. So I plucked him by the shoulder. Time was Hying and 1 had none to 'use. "Can't you get me out of this?" I Implored. "Jly father doesn't know I'm here and he'll go crazy if I'm ar rested. Please got me out." file man turned around and I saw llml it was M. P. (My Preserver) -foe man who had saved me when (l.vpsy ran away wilh me that day. "id who had refused to tell his name I nearly dropped through I he (lour. "e didn't seem at all surprised, however, i guessed ufterward that "e hud recognized me as t tie crowd 8ept trie toward him. 'In trying to ligure out some way 10 do that very thing," he said. "I'm ""maimed with a good many police-Ulcn- nd If you'll wait a minute I'll Prohnhiv see one 1 can appeal to." I waited, of course, but I didn't wail "silence. Why should 1? I have never '"""d that silence gets a girl any ''ere. besides. ! was beginning to "el pretty safe. I felt somehow tnat ' P- would save me. lie had d.,ne 'I mice before. So I smiled up at him lis Is the second time you've res me." I began. "I haven't rescued you yet, this time." , "lN'o, but you will," I said. "And to think that I don't know your ';nie! Do plmse tell me what II is. Wfre i diu ( ,..uriosity." "e smiled again. "My naw.e is LrMIit," ue i( y(iu ,.,11. cu.c. 0 know. I'?e ,0l,, wondering evei Sln,'e that d-y whether 1 should see again, ilui l never guessed it "lld he here." lie glanced around "'e hall. "' didn't, either," 1 returned. "But ltn I don't know much about such llws. Maybe meeting your friends "' diem U the regular Ihing. 1 want 11 to see what It was like and I made rcl bring me ami my sister. It was rfl1 who wi.s with me that day, yon i 'They were with me when the , broke in, but I don't know U that's became of them. I don't see 'C anywhere. If you" f n"g pardon," Mr. Braxton broke I1- "There'll sergeant that 1 know If you'll come" He. pushed through the crowd and I followed at his heels In a moment we were close by an otlicer who wore a sergeant's stripes on his arms. "Sergeant," said Mr Braxton, "do you want to stand for a ease of b.ainstorm?" 1 couldn't imagine what he meant, but the sergeant seemed to understand. under-stand. "Pshaw, Mr. Braxton," he jibed, "your brain ain't In any dangerfor dan-gerfor a mighty good reason." Ue grinned as be spoke. Mr. Braxton didu'i grin. Ue came right back at him. "It isn't my brain that's' worrying me," he said. "It's the brain of the father of this young lady." He gestured ges-tured at me. "Ue's a billion-dollar Wall Street man and he'll have the exaggerated ego sure If she gets on the police books. Better let me take her home. I'll show up at the station and pay my fine later." The sergeant stated and looked at me. "I hope you weren't hurt in the rush, miss." he said, civilly. I shook my beaa. "Not a bit," 1 an swered. "Thanks to Mr. Braxton. But I'll be awfully hurt if you don't let me get away." The sergeant considered for a minute. min-ute. Then be nodded. "All right," he said. "Take her along, Mr. Braxton, and then you show up at the station. It's irregular, of course, but I've learned that a policeman doesn't make good just by pulling everybody he meets. Ofteuer he does It by knowing when not to pull them. When the prisoners start out of here you go along with them till you reach the street. Then just step out of line and go. I'll fix things all right." After that it was only a case of follow-tny-Ierder, until we were la a taxi bound for home. Of course I was worried ubout Josephine. Jose-phine. But I was pretty sure that she and Fred must have been carried out of the ball tn the first rush and had gotten away safely. Anyway, there was nothing I could do except get home as quick as I could and wait for them. Meanwhile there was no use In worrying and I wasted no time In that unpleasant occupation. All the way uptown I chattered away trying to find out all 1 could about, Mr. Braxton without asking him outright. He wasn't communicative. 1 found that he was from the South originally but had lived in the West for years; but that was all 1 did find out. Except Ex-cept that he was awfully nice. Bui I had suspected that before. All too soon we reached home. Mi Braxton was laughing as be helped me out of the car, but when 1 turned toward the marble pile that housed the Dinsmnre family he . grew dread fully solemn. "Good Lord !" he ex claimed. "Are yon Curtis Oinsmore's daughter?' I did some very rapid thinking rapid thinking Is -my long suit- Mi Braxton had been unwilling to accept thanks for saving my life when Gypsy ran away; rnd 1 guessed instantly that he was one of those haughty young Americans who refuse to have anything to do with a girl if her fa llier happens to be rich. I didn't want him to refuse to have anything to do with me. So I fibbed promptly "I'm only a poor relation." I laughed (1 really was poor: 1 had spent m. whole allowance. And I c rtainly was dad's relation.) "My name Is Dins-more, Dins-more, too. and I live here. I'm sort of companion to Miss Dinsmore." Mr Braxton drew a long breath. I could see that he was relieved. "I was afraid for a moment thai I hud told thai sergeant the truth when I said your father was In the billion dollar class," lie said. "It would have relieved my conscience at the expense of my happiness. . . Have you a hitch key?" "Yes." I nodded. "They allow me a lot of privileges. One is to receive my friends. You'll give me a chance to receive yoti. won I you?" Mr P.raxt"! possessed himself ot my key "I'M be delighted.' he said. "I'm not in town very often, but I'll call when I can if i may." 'You surely may. fall soon!' I u rged. Mr Braxton had gotlcti the door open now. He straightened up and ... .-.. -v-.-.-.--O- . i iii imw held out his hand. "I win, mank you," he said "Good night." If he had been pretty uearly anybody any-body else In all the wide world 1 would have known how to prevent his going. But somehow, with him, I was stupid. I couldn't thiuk of a thing to say. 1 just shook hands dumbly and watched him fade away. And all the time I was just crazy to keep blm. Two minutes after Mr. Braxton had gone, Josephine and Fred turned up in a taxi, driving like mad. They had j been released by an officer who knew Fred and they hafl searched and searched for rao. They hadn't found i me, of course, and equally of course they hadn't dared to tell anyone who I was. So, at last Fred bad brought Josephine home, on the chance that 1 might have gotten there first somehow, intendiug to go back and hunt some more if I hadn't turned up. Josaphine nearly fainted when she saw me. She must have been under an awful strain And Fred had been, too, for the matter mat-ter of that Anyhow, they both said ' "Neve: again" when they braced up at last And never again it was. Even I was satisfied. 1 didn't explain about Mr. Braxton My meeling him was pure coincidence of course. But It looked amazingly like pure fake; and I didn't dare tn tell about it. I just said that a kind policeman had turned me loos and let it go at that. Eut I thought about him a lot and kept hoping that he would call. But he didn't The days dragged by without my seeing a sign of him. Come to think of it, so very many ol them didn't drag by, after all; it was their dragginess and not their number (hat troubled me. I wanted to see Mr. Braxton so bad that a day seemed a week,, especially as I couldn't help fearing that he had found me out had found out that I wasn't a poor relationand re-lationand that he didn't intend to come back at all. As 1 bad told Fred, this business of really worthwhile poor men fighting shy of rich girls is pretty hard on the girls. Look at the kind ot chaps most of them have to put up with just because real men keep away. And for the matter of that, there's a lot of nonsense In all that talk aboul rich men wanting other rich men for their daughters. They don't want sons-in-law who look on marriage as a lifeboat, or who can't make good in one way or another; but I Dever heard of a single father and I've had-mighty had-mighty good chances to hear whe would have hesitated to welcome a would-be-son-in-law just' because be ivas poor. 1 know Dad wouldn't Meanwhile, Mr. Paul was in and out, talking with dad, mostly about that missing one thousand shares uhicb he seemed unable to trace, tie ?-aid very little to me; but what he did say was nice and friendly. It made me feel pretty mean. But, goodness. good-ness. I couldn't marry the man just because be was taking my refusal t( marry him so nicely! At last, how ever, he got in bad with me, and after that I felt better. Ue came to the house one evening while Josephine and I were entertaining Fred in the parlor. I was looking in the big glass over the fireplace (which served as a very good periscope), and I saw him pass the door, on his way to Dad's room. An hour later, after he had gone. Dad sent for Josephine, and she left tne and Fred In the parlor and went to the library. She was gone for so long- that Fred grew restless and wanted to leave. He thought, pool hoy. that Father was keeping Josephinp away as a hint that It was time to close up the limine for the. night ; and I could scarcely persuade him to stay I succeeded, however; and it was well that I did. for by and by Josephine came back and said that Father wauled to see Fred. When Fred had gone to the library I put Josephine through the third decree; de-cree; and. after a lot )f hard work. I found out what it was all about. Fa rjier had told her not to tell me. but . sol it out of her. That Is. I got some of It out of her. I thought I got II nil. but in that I was fooled. Jnse phine playd It l"W down on me that time and it wasn t the lirst time eiihei. as I discovered later. No! Josephine did not tell me all that father had said hut she told me enough lo make me very angry. (TO CR CONTINt'ED ) |