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Show J&l S Author of Graustark, The By GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON S? Copyright, by Dodd, Mead and Company, In a. thirty-one. Rich as Croesus. Well-turned Well-turned legs. Would make a good nobleman." no-bleman." All this would appear to bo reasonably reason-ably definite were it not for the note regarding the color of his hair. It leaves to me the simple task of completing com-pleting the very admirable description of Mr. Barnes by announcing that Miss Tilly's hair was an extremely dark brown. Also it Is advisable to append the following biographical information : Thomas Kingsbury Barnes, engineer, born in Montclalr, N. J., September 26, 1885. Cornell and Beaux Arts, Paris. Son of the late Stephen S. Barnes, engineer, and Edith (Valentine) (Valen-tine) Barnes. Office, Metropolitan building, New York city. Residence, Amsterdam mansion. Clubs: (Lack of space prevents listing them here. Recreations, golf, tennis and horseback horse-back riding. Fellow of the Royal Geographical Geo-graphical society. Member of the Loyal Legion and the Sons of the American Revolution. Added to this, the mere announcement announce-ment that he was in a position to Indulge In-dulge a fancy for long and perhaps aimless walking tours through more, or less out-of-the-way sections of his own country, to say nothing of excursions excur-sions in Europe. He was rich. Perhaps not as riches are measured in these Midas-like days, but rich beyond the demands of avarice. ava-rice. His legacy had been an ample one. The fact that he worked hard at his profession from one year's end to the other not excluding the six devoted to mentally productive jaunts is proof sufficient that he was not content to subsist on the fruits of another an-other man's enterprise. He was a worker. The first fortnight of a proposed six weeks' jaunt through upper New-England New-England terminated when he laid aside his heavy pack in the little bedroom bed-room at Hart's Tavern. Cockcrow would find him ready and eager to begin be-gin his third week. At least so he thought. But, truth is, he had come to his journey's end ; he was not to sling his pack for many a day to come. After setting the mind of the landlord land-lord at rest Barnes declined Mr. Rushcroft's invitation to "quaff" a cordial cor-dial with him in the taproom, explaining explain-ing that he was exceedingly tired and Intended to retire early. Instead of going up to his room immediately, im-mediately, however, he decided to have a look at the weather. His uneasiness un-easiness concerning the young woman of the crossroads increased as he peered at the wall of blackness looming loom-ing up beyond the circle of light. She was somwhere outside that sinister black wall and in the smothering grasp of those invisible hills, but was she living or dead? Had she reached her journey's end safely? He tried to extract comfort from the confidence she had expressed in the ability and integrity of the old man who drove with far greater recklessness than one would have looked for in a wild and irresponsible youngster. He recalled with a thrill the imperious imperi-ous manner In which she gave directions direc-tions to the man, and his surprising servility. It suddenly occurred to him that she was no ordinary person ; he was rather amazed that he had not thought of it before. Moreover, now that he thought of it, there was, even in the agreeable rejoinders re-joinders she had made to his offerings, the faint suggestion of an accent that should have struck him at the time but did not for the obvious reason that he was then not at all Interested in her. Her English was so perfect that he had failed to detect the almost imperceptible im-perceptible foreign flavor that now took definite form in his reflections. He tried to place this accent. Was It French or Italian or Spanish? Certainly Cer-tainly it was not German. He took a few turns up and down Ihe long porch, stopping finally at the Upper end. The clear, Inspiring clang of a hammer on an anvil fell suddenly sud-denly upon his ears. He looked at his watch. The hour was nine, certainly an unusual time for men to he at work in a forge. He remembered two men In the taproom who were bare-armed and wore the shapeless leather aprons of the smithy. Hart's tavern is entertainingly enter-tainingly serio-comic, when suddenly tragedy takes the stage battle, murder and sudden death. I (TO BE CONTINUED.) Girl of Mystery! House of Mystery! v Synopsis. Thomas K. Barnes, a wealthy New Yorker on a walking trip in New Sngland, is threatened by a mountain storm. At dusk at a lonely cross-roads, miles from Hart's tavern, where he intends to pass the night, he meets a girl in a similar plight, bound for a dwelling house called Green Fancy. Along comes an automobile for the girl. She gives him a lift to his tavern. There he falls in with a stranded troupe of "barnstorming" "barn-storming" actors, of which Lyndon Lyn-don Rushcroft is the star and "Miss Thackeray" the leading woman. The theatrical people are doing hotel work for their board. CHAPTER II Continued. 2 Barnes laughed aloud. There was no withstanding the fellow's sprightly impudence. "I happen to enjoy walking," said he. "If I enjoyed it as much as you do I'd be limping into Harlem by this time," said Mr. Dillingford sadly. "But you see I'm an actor. I'm too proud to walk " The cracked bell on the office desk interrupted him, somewhat peremptorily. peremp-torily. Mr. Dillingford's face assumed an expression of profound dignity. He lowered his voice as he gave vent to the following: "That man Jones is the meanest human hu-man being God ever let Yes, sir, coming, sir!" He started for the open door with surprising alacrity. Barnes surveyed the little bedchamber. bedcham-ber. It was just what he had expected it would be. The walls were covered with a garish paper selected by one who had an eye but not a taste for color bright pink flowers that looked more or less like chunks of a shattered watermelon spilt promiscuously over a background of pearl gray. The bedstead, bed-stead, bureau and washstand were offensively of-fensively modern. Everything was us clean as a pin, however, and the bed looked comfortable. He stepped to the small, many-paned window and looked out Into the night. The storm was at its height. In all his life he never had heard such a clatter of rain, nor a wind that shrieked so appallingly. His thoughts went quite naturally to the woman who was out there in the thick of it. He wondered how she was faring and lamented that she was not in his place now and he in hers. What was she doing up in this Godforsaken God-forsaken country? What was the name of the place she was bound for? Green Fancy ! What an odd name for a house ! And what sort of house His reflections were interrupted by the return of Mr. Dillingford, who carried car-ried a huge pewter pitcher from which steam arose in volume. At his heels strode a tall, cadaverous person in a checked suit. Never had Barnes seen anything quite so overpowering in the way of a suit. Joseph's coat of many colors was no longer a vision of childhood. It was a reality. The checks were an Inch square and each cube had a narrow nar-row border of azure blue. The general tone was a dirty gray, due no doubt to age and a constitution that would not allow it to outlive its usefulness. "Meet Mr. Bacon, Mr. Barnes," Introduced In-troduced Mr. Dillingford, going to the needless exertion of indicating Mr. Bacon Ba-con with a generous sweep of his free hand. "Our heavy leads. Mr. Montague Monta-gue Bacon, also of New York." "Ham and eggs, pork tenderloin, country sausage, rump steak and spring chicken," said Mr. Bacon In n cavernous voice, getting It over with while the list was fresh In his memory. mem-ory. "Fried and boiled potatoes, beans, succotash, onions, stewed tomatoes and er just a moment, please. Fried and boiled potatoes, beans " "Ham and eggs, potatoes and a cup-or cup-or two of coffee," said Barnes, suppressing sup-pressing a desire to laugh. "And apple pie," concluded the waiter triumphantly. "I knew I'd get It if you gave me time. As you may have observed, my dear sir, I am not what you would call an experienced waiter. As a matter of fnct, I " The bell downstairs rang violently. Mr. Bacon departed in great haste. While the traveler performed his ablutions ab-lutions Mr. Dillingford, for Ihe moment disengage J, sal upon Ihe edge of the bed and enjoyed himself. He talked. "We were nine at Ihe start," said he pensively. "Gradually we were reduced re-duced to seven, not including the manager. man-ager. Two of 'em escaped before the smash. The low comedian and character char-acter old woman. Joe Buckley and his A'ife. That left the old man I mean Mr. Rushcroft, the star Lyndon Rushcroft, Rush-croft, you know myself and Bacon. Tommy Gray, Miss Rushcroft, Miss Hughes and a woman named Bradley, seven of us. The woman named Bradley Brad-ley said her mother was dying in Buf- i falo, so tlie rest of us scraped together I all the money we had nine dollars and sixty cents and did the right i thing by her. Actors are always doing do-ing darn-fool things like that, Mr. Barnes. And what do you suppose she did? She took that money and bought i two tickets to Albany, one for herself and another for the manager of the company the lowest, meanest orner-iest orner-iest white man that ever But I am crabbing the old man's part. You ought to hear what he has to say about Mr. Manager. He can use words I never even beard of before. So that leaves just the four of us here, working work-ing off the two days' board bill of Bradley and the manager, Rushcroft's ungodly spree, and at the same time keeping our own slate clean. Miss Thackeray will no doubt make up your bed in the morning. She is temporarily tempo-rarily a chambermaid. Cracking fine girl, too. Are you all ready? I'll lead you to the dining room. Or would you prefer a little appetizer beforehand? The taproom is right on the way. You mustn't call it the bar. Everybody In that little graveyard town down the road would turn over completely if you did. Hallowed tradition, you know." "I don't mind having a cocktail. Will you join me?" "As a matter of fact, I'm expected to." confessed Mr. Dillingford. "We've been drawing quite a bit of custom to the taproom. The rubes like to sit around and listen to conversation about Broadway and Bunker Hill and Old Point Comfort and other places, and then go home and tell the neighbors neigh-bors that they know quite a number of stage people. Human nature, I guess. Listen ! Hear that? Rushcroft Rush-croft reciting 'Gunga Din.' You can't hear the thunder for the noise he's making." They descended the stairs and entered en-tered the taproom, where a dozen men were seated around the tables, all of them with pewter mugs in front of them. Standing at the top table that is to say, the one farthest removed from the door and commanding the attention at-tention of every creature in the room was the Imposing figure of Lyndon Rushcroft. He was reciting, In a sonorous so-norous voice and with tremendous fervor, fer-vor, the famous Kipling poem. A genial smile wiped the tragic expression expres-sion from his face. He advanced upon Barnes and the beaming Mr. Dillingford, Dilling-ford, his hand extended. "My dear fellow," he exclaimed resoundingly, re-soundingly, "how are you?" Cordiality Cordial-ity boomed In his voice. "I heard you had arrived. Welcome- thrlcefold welcome wel-come V He neglected to say that Mr. I Monlague Bacon, In passing a few I minutes before, had leaned over and whispered behind his hand : "Fellow upstairs from New York, Mr. Rushcroft fellow named Barnes. Quite a swell, believe me." It was a well-placed tip, for Mr. Rushcroft had been telling the natives for days that he knew everybody worth knowing In New York. Barbes was momentarily taken aback. Then he rose to the spirit of the occasion. "Hello, Rushcroft," he greeted, as If meeting an old-time and greatly beloved be-loved friend. "This Is good. 'Pon my soul you are like a thriving date palm In the middle of an endless desert. des-ert. How are you?" They shook hands warmly. Mr. Dillingford Dil-lingford shipped the newcomer on the shoulder affectionately, familiarly, and shouted : "Who woidd have dreamed we'd run across good old Barnesy up here? By .love, it's marvelous!" "friends, countrymen," boomed Mr. Rushcroft, "this is Mr. Barnes of New l York. Not ihe man the book was Written about bUi one of the best fellows fel-lows God ever put Into this little world 1 of ours. I do nol recall your names, gentlemen, or I would Introduce each I of yon separately and I 1 visibly." Lyndon itusherofl was a lull, saggy man of lifly. Despite his determined erectness he was inclined to sag from the ShoUlderS down. BlS head, huge and gray, appeared to be much too ponderous for his yielding body, ami yet he carried n manfully, even theatrically. the-atrically. The lilies in his dark, sea soned face were like furrows; his nose was large and somewhat bulbous, his mouth wide and grim. Thick, black eyebrows shaded a pair of eyes in which white was no longer apparent it had given way to a permanent red. A two-days' stubble covered his chin and cheeks. Altogether he was a singular sin-gular exemplification of one's idea of the old-time actor. Passing through the office, his arm linked in one of Barnes', Mr. Rushcroft Rush-croft hesitated long enough to impress upon Landlord Jones the importance of providing his "distinguished friend, Robert W. Barnes," with the very best that the establishment afforded. Putnam Put-nam Jones blinked slightly and his eyes sought the register as if to accuse ac-cuse or justify his memory. Then he spat copiously into the corner, a necessary nec-essary preliminary to a grin. He hadn't much use for the great Lyndon Rushcroft. His grin was sardonic. Something told him that Mr. Rushcroft Rush-croft was about to be liberally fed. CHAPTER III. Mr. Rushcroft Dissolves, Mr. Jones Intervenes, In-tervenes, and Two Men Ride Away. Mr. Rushcroft explained that he had had his supper. In fact, he went on to confess, he had been compelled, like the dog, to "speak" for it. What could be more disgusting, more degrading, degrad-ing, he mourned, than the spectacle of a man who had appeared in all of the principal theaters of the land as star and leading support to stars, settling set-tling for his supper by telling stories and reciting poetry in the taproom of a tavern? "Still," he consented, when Mr. Barnes Insisted that it would be a kindness to him, "since you put It that way, I dare say I could do with a little snack, as you so aptly put It. Just a bite or two. What have you ready, Miss Tilly?" Miss Tilly was a buxom female of forty or thereabouts, with spectacles. She was one of a pair of sedentary waitresses who had been so long in the employ of Mr. Janes that he hated the sight of them. Mr. Rushcroft's conception of a bite or two may have staggered Barnes but It did not bewilder Miss Tilly. He had four eggs with his ham, and other things in proportion. He talked a great deal, proving In that way that it was a supper well worth speaking for. Among other things he dilated at great length upon his reasons for not being a member of the Players or the Lambs In New York city. It seems that he had promised his dear, devoted wife that he would never join a club of any description. Dear old girl, he would as soon have cut off his right hand as to break any promise made to her. He brushed something away from his eyes, and his chin, contracting, contract-ing, trembled slightly. "What Is it, Mr. Bacon? Any word from New York?" Mr. Bacon hovered near, perhaps hungrily. "Our genial host has Instructed me to say to his latest guest that the rates are two dollars a day, in advance, ad-vance, all dining-room checks payable on presentation," said Mr. Bacon, apologetically. apol-ogetically. Rushcroft exploded. "O scurvy Insult," In-sult," he boomed. "Confound his " The new guest was amiable. He Interrupted the outraged star. "Tell Mr. Jones that I shall settle promptly," prompt-ly," he said with a smile. "It has just entered his bean thnt you may be an actor, Mr. Barnes," said Bacon. Miss Tilly, overbearing, drew a step or two nearer. A sudden Interest In Mr. Rarnes developed. She had not noticed before that he was an uncommonly uncom-monly good-looking fellow. She always al-ways had said that she adored strong, "athalelie" faces. Later on she felt Inspired to jot down, for use no doubt In some future literary production, a concise, (hough general, description of the magnificent Mr. Barnes. She utilized the back Of the hill of fare and she wrote with the feverish ardor of one who dreads the loss of a first Impression, I herewith here-with append her visual estimate of the hej'O of this story : "lie was a tall, shapely specimen of mankind, "wrote Miss Tilly. "Broad-shouldered. "Broad-shouldered. Smooth-shaved face. I'en-etratlng I'en-etratlng gray eyes. Short, curly hair about the color of mine. Strong hands of good shape. Face tanned considerable. Heavy dark eyebrows. Good teeth, very white. Square chin. Lovely smile that seemed to light up Ihe room for everybody within hearing. hear-ing. Nose Ideal. Moulh same. Voice aristocratic and reverberating with education, Ige about thirty or |