gluttons for punishment in my day, but you win the carbolic-acid sundae! You lose twice to Burns to-night alone; forget about him now."

"Forget about nothin'," mutters Stillwell. "I can take him!"

At precisely that minute, Dug, Bad News Burns and his friends comes out of the court in back of us, and Burns sneers at the kid and says: "Well, Stupid, I certainly have made you love it to-night, ain't I?"

Young Stillwell in one frantic wrench gets away from Joe and, steppin' up to Burns, drops his hands in position and dances around him, set to shoot one over. With a howl Joe starts after his battler, but I blocked the way. This kid's persistence, in spite of the tough luck he's had with him, seems to get Burns a bit leary, and he shuffles back with a kind of sickly grin on his face. "You're a awful laugh to me," he sneers. "You-"

To MESSRS. DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS, Los Angeles, Calipickford.

EAR DUG: Well, Dug, I take it for the granted that you have saw in the papers where I have been pinched and fined a even hundred fish on the grounds of aggravatin' assault, includin' battery. I will tell you the inside story, Dug, as the capitalistic press has prob'ly gave me the worst of it, the same as they always had a hobby of doin' when I was by nature a baseball pitcher.

A few days after Young Stillwell has informally tipped over Bad News Burns, Dug, I take the kid out to the lot to see me engaged in the laudable pastime of elevatin' the dumb drama. I have got to like this hard-hittin' Stillwell exceedin'ly, Dug, and as luck would have it, it seems he is a strong admirer of me. Well, Dug, we are shootin' a scene wherein Jeanne is supposed to be held a prisoneress by Ah Hokum, the noted Chinese fiend, and all I have got to do is battle my ways through between fifteen and forty-seven extras, bust down the door of her dungeon, and rescue her. The mob which I have got to knock stiff, Dug, is all hand-picked for their natural gifts at the art of rough-andtumble, and is composed of such delicate youths as ex-coppers, ex-pugs, exdoughboys, and ex-stevedores. I suppose that's why they call them "extras," hey, Dug?

Well, Dug, Eddie Runyon, our charmin' director, is one of them retakin' fools, and after I have plowed through this bunch of gorillas five or six times, the only part of my body which ain't black and blue is my nose, and that's red!

By the time. we knock off for the day, Dug, and I climb into my chumpy roadster, to drive the awed and respectful Young Stillwell to his home, I have a terrible headache in every bone in my body, and I am fed up on makin' these gun-opera serials, Dug. Believe me, when we get through shootin' this reflection on the adult intelligence which we are filmin' now, I am going to be a drawin'-room star and appear in nothin' but features, or I will leave the movies flat on their back.

Anyways, Dug, I am drivin' this Young Stillwell home, which he lives in the land of Newark, N. J., and we got to detour through New York, N. Y., so's in the order to get there. Stillwell wants to stop at Spike O'Leary's gym on Third Avenue. Dug, they is a lot of tough-lookin' birds hangin' around

the door. As the kid comes up they kind of circle around him, whilst one of the conspirators ducks into the gym. In a minute this latter baby comes out with his royal highness Bad News Burns, and a warm argument begins right away. Dug, roughly speakin', which is what they was doin', I figure they was about a baker's half dozen of them guys all told, so with rare presence of mind I snatched a couple of tire irons from the tool chest, and in the twinklin' I am shovin' my ways through these roughnecks to Young Stillwell's side, when by a odd coincidence I get a ringin' crack on the ear.

I

T seems that crackin' me on the ear was the signal for the festivities to commence, Dug, and in a second the air was full of flyin' fists and oaths. I lost the tire irons early in the debate or they might of been a different story to tell. How the so ever, Dug, I give a good account of myself with nature's weapons-i. e., my hands and feet-and by the time a harness bull comes runnin' up the street, blowin' a sweet refrain on his whistle, why, I have knocked a couple of these ham-andbeaners for a string of silos, and Young Stillwell has performed like services for a couple more. The rest of our bewitchin' adversaries takes run-out powders when they hear the gendarme's whistle, Dug, and me and Stillwell does the same, leapin' into my bus and shootin' around the corner before the copper knows who's who.

The first thing the next mornin', Dug, I am out of the house before Jeanne can get a flash at me, and I set sail for Dr. Ether's, a guy which makes a specialty of retreadin' faces. I get a deep purple eye painted and my nose lined up and made more plausible with paraffin injections. The next stop was the studio.

Well, Dug, no more than I get on the lot when Eddie Runyon makes up his mind to shoot this big fight scene, and half a hour later I come to layin' on a cot in back of the set with a couple guys chaffin' my wrist and Jack Connor, Eddie's assistance, pastin' adhesive tape here and there on my jaw. Eddie is walkin' around hollerin' that when this fight is showed on the screen it will drive the audience cuckoo, and they will forget whether Griffith made pictures or rowboats. My idle gaze also notices a couple extras layin' flat on their backs, and the set itself, Dug, looks like either two or three hurricanes has just went through it. I was greatly surprised to learn that me and the extras had caused all this havoc, as I failed to recall anything after I leaped on a table and throwed a chandelier at the boys like the continuity called for. Out of this scene, Dug, I drawed a badly wrenched back and a sprained wrist.

Dug, I wish some of them babies which sneers at us movie stars, and thinks we have it soft and use doubles, etc., would visit the lots when we are goin' good. Take, for instance, that time a short while ago when you jumped through a window and one of your favorite feet caught in the sill, with the results that you broke your hand and like to broke your skull.

Well, Dug, I am leanin' up against a practical door thinkin' all this o.er and grittin' my teeth with pain in a effort to crack up a pleasant smile for the next close-up, when our press agent walks in on the set with a couple of studio pests, to the viz., sightseers. They is two big goofy-lookin' males and two of another well-known sex, and from the excitement they cause you would think the party was composed of The Prince from Wales, Baby Ruth, Eve, and Mary Queen of Scotch. Everybody is bowin' and scrapin'-that is, everybody but your correspondent, Dug

and Eddie Runyon whispers to me to be the height of courtesy on the account the men is nothin' less than a pair of the money kings which owns the company, and the women is their girl friends. This failed to panic me,

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"And therefore, I say, let this be a lesson to you to mend your ways. honesty does not appeal to you for its own sake, let the fear of the fate that awaits you cause you to lead an honest life. I warn you that the way of the transgressor is hard. You cannot always be as fortunate as you have been to-day; your record is known, and if you are ever convicted of a crime the severest penalty the law allows will be inflicted upon you."

J

UROR NO. 5 walked slowly from the court room. Just ahead of him were the district attorney and Tom Nash. Juror No. 5 heard them talking together.

"Why didn't you put the crook on the stand?" the prosecutor asked. "If you had, I could have gotten his record to the jury, and they wouldn't have been out ten minutes before they soaked him. As it was, it took them over an hour to swallow the pill."

Tom Nash smiled. "Yes, I know it. I'd have put him on, but Lyle wouldn't let me take the chance. He said the jury probably wouldn't convict on your evidence, and he thought we ought not to take a chance on spoiling things; our best chance was to let the case stand as it was-the jury didn't look very intelligent. Never mind, you'll get him soon enough."

"The sooner the better. He's bad, through and through. Warren would never have raised those bills; it took an old hand to do it. Damn Lyle, anyway."

"He saved me making a fool of myself," Nash said, laughing.

"It's a rotten business, defending a man you know is guilty, isn't it?" the district attorney said. "So long, Tommy; see you to-morrow."

Juror No. 5 went out into the darkness sadly. On his way home he remembered that Samuel Lyle had spoken to Tom Nash and that Nash had looked over the jury until he had found him, Juror No. 5, and that when Nash had addressed the jury he had in reality spoken to Juror No. 5.

"He made a fool of me right enough," mused Juror No. 5 humbly.

When Juror No. 5 went back to court the next day the fact that Samuel Lyle had made a fool of him still rankled in his heart. Besides that, he knew that the law was indeed an ass, for it had permitted a man to escape justice whom judge, prosecutor, and defense knew to be guilty. Juror No. 5 resolved that he would not be caught napping again.

The day dragged on dully, and Juror No. 5 had no chance to show that he would not be made a fool of again. It was nearly quitting time when a court attendant told him that the judge wished to speak with him after court adjourned. Shortly afterward he was alone with the judge in his room.

"I wanted to speak to you about the McCabe case, the one you sat on yesly of the impression that you are disterday," the judge said. "I am stronggusted with the whole business: with the court, with yourself, with Samuel Lyle and young Nash. Isn't that so?"

J

UROR NO. 5 smiled a little sadly. "I think Lyle made a fool of meand the rest of the jurors," he said. "I know he's a great lawyer, but it seemed, in the light of what I learned afterward, to be a shyster trick."

"I thought that was the way you felt. I watched you yesterday, and I have been watching you to-day, and that is why I asked you to come here. It was not a shyster trick-Lyle performed only his bounden duty, his sworn duty. He was designated by the court to defend McCabe, and McCabe was entitled to his best services; for Lyle to have exposed McCabe's past would have been not only idiotic but unprofessional in the last degree. If Lyle had depended, had been forced to depend, on McCabe's character as a defense, and had attempted to prove his good character, then the jury would be entitled to hear whatever might be said against his character, but not otherwise. Proof as to whether McCabe was guilty in this case could not be dependent in any way on what he had done before. If it were permitted to say "This man was guilty of another crime, therefore he must be guilty of this one,' then law and justice would collapse completely. The Government had no case against McCabe, and Lyle knew it. To have permitted your judgment to be swayed, and improperly swayed, as it must have been by a recital of McCabe's previous convictions, would have been shystering and treachery of the lowest order. I am telling you this because I do not want you to go away from here thinking harshly of Mr. Lyle, for no lawyer has a bigger heart or a greater respect for the law, or is more desirous that justice shall be done. You must remember that the law safeguards the rights of every man, be he honest citizen or crook, and it was Lyle's solemn duty to honor and protect McCabe's rights. He simply did his duty.

"I am going to ask you to do something for me. Warren, who confessed, comes up for sentence to-morrow-Lyle will ask the court for another chance for him. I want you to hear Lyle speak, and to that end I will be glad to excuse you from duty so that you may surely hear him. In the meantime disabuse your mind of the thought that you were deceived or improperly led into rendering a wrong verdictno other verdict was possible in this case, though it is highly probable that McCabe was guilty. It is better that ten guilty men should escape than that one should suffer unjustly, and if McCabe could have been convicted in this case, then many and many an innocent man could be declared guilty in other cases."

The judge and Juror No. 5 talked together for half an hour, and then Juror No. 5 went his way, homeward.

"I came near making a fool of myself," Juror No. 5 mused.

TH

HE next day Albert Warren came before the court for sentence, and Mr. Lyle addressed the court. "Your honor," he said, "if it please you, I would like to say a word in behalf of this unfortunate young man. I have gone to some trouble to investigate his previous life, and I can, if your honor desires, substantiate the statements I am about to make. Warren is twenty-five years old. He married when he was twenty-two, and though he might well have done so, he made no effort to obtain a deferred classification in the draft, but joined the army among the first. His wife is a woman

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25

History helps to Success

Now is the time to acquire that knowledge of history which is the mark of the really well-read person, and to cultivate in your children that love of historical study which helps to success.

LODGE HISTORY OF NATIONS

Senator Lodge's History of Nations tells history in a new wayit gives the thrill of fiction coupled with the authority of the greatest names. Senator Lodge's idea was to tell the deep-lying, interesting facts about the nations of the world, their industrial and business life, their social upheavals, their religious development, and the lighter as well as the serious side of their lives.

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of good family and of fine reputation. She is here to speak to your honor if you so desire.

"Warren was discharged from the army, found employment at a low wage, met temptation, and succumbed to it. "His friendship or acquaintance with McCabe commenced last su summer, by chance. He knew nothing of McCabe's past; no long friendship had existed between them when Warren was arrested. Yet it appeared to me, and I think it must have appeared to the court, that through a mistaken idea of loyalty he was protecting McCabe, although he knew that a truthful statement implicating McCabe would undoubtedly have worked him a great benefit.

"As your honor knows, my connection with these two boys has been primarily the defense of McCabe. Had I not been convinced that McCabe was innocent, and could not be convicted on the evidence for all his bad record, I should have asked your honor for a postponement of the trial, for reasons which I will shortly explain.

"There stood out strongly in my mind these two facts, that McCabe was not guilty and that Warren alone had neither the will nor the skill to alter and then pass the raised bills. I took it upon myself to do a little investigating-I asked Warren for the names of his half dozen best friends, and he gave me a list of them; I asked his friends who Warren's friends were. The name of one Henry Schaeffer did not appear on Warren's list, but was mentioned by several of his friends. This was suspicious. I found that Schaeffer and Warren had been together in the army. I had no trouble in discovering that a man answering his description had lived for months, under the name of Schiff, in the room adjoining that occupied by Warren in the lodging house.

some

"Immediately after Warren's arrest Schiff that is, Schaeffer-disappeared. He was found yesterday morning by Government agents, and on his person there were five bills raised as the bills in the McCabe case were raised. He is a well-known criminal. It would appear, therefore, that Warren has told almost the truth; when he has not told all the truth, it has been because of a mistaken sense of honor or duty. Wrong as it is, we can understand the motive and sympathize with it. The prisoner's face at this moment makes, I believe, no further confession by him necessary."

Ju

UROR NO. 5 looked at Warren. It was written clear as day on the boy's face that Mr. Lyle had discovered the truth.

"Therefore, your honor," Mr. Lyle went on, "I ask mercy to the fullest extent for this boy. Weak he must be to have been so easily led into crime; serious indeed was the crime he committed; serious, too, was his unwillingness to tell all of the truth here in this court, and yet I believe that he is honest at heart; that, given opportunity and aid, he will be honest and upright in fact and deed. It would be presumptuous for me to explain to your honor that if this boy goes to prison life is ended for him, that disgrace eternal will descend upon his innocent wife. Therefore I speak on more practical lines. If your honor will spare this boy, I will take him in charge so far as one man may take another in charge.

"I will see that he is established in a home of his own-his wife will care for him and stand by him. He will report to your honor, or to me, as you may desire, at such intervals and for so long as your honor may instruct. I beg of your honor that, if your duty permits, you will afford this boy the opportunity that, with your permission, lies before him.'

Mr. Lyle sat down. Juror No. 5 glanced quickly at the judge and found the judge's eyes waiting for his. Juror No. 5 could not mistake the light that he saw in the judge's eyes.

Later on Juror No. 5 went home. "I guess that Lyle and the judge and the rest of 'em know pretty well what they're doing, after all," he mused.

Collier's, The National Weekly

Vacation Time 3-in-OneTime

outstretched arms. "I have been waiting for you. Do you see me? It may be the top of folly, and I may never do it again. But here I am sitting up! I owe it all to you."

"You want me to say that I think it is wonderful," Nara said, trying to speak gayly. "Well, I shall not. It is not wonderful at all. It is exactly what I expected just as I expect you to get up one of these days and go downstairs."

Mrs. Claveloux looked at Nara. "You are troubled," she said. "Come here, dear girl. What troubles you?" "It troubles me that I must come to you for help," Nara told her.

"But I am ready and willing to help you. More than that, I would consider myself fortunate. I am very fond of you. And then, besides, though it is like a dream to me-a strange thing not to be realized I owe my life to you."

THE

HE girl went to the door leading into the hall and closed it; returning, she drew a chair near the bed and sat down close to Mrs. Claveloux. The invalid looked up inquiringly into the eager, anxious eyes which gazed down upon her; she was content to wait for Nara to speak.

"You said that you owed your life to me," said Nara. "Yesterday I might have believed that just as you believe it. To-day I know better. To-day I know, Mrs. Claveloux, that you owe your life to a miracle, that you owe it to a great force and a great power and a great mystery. But not to me! Not to any force or power from me!"

Mrs. Claveloux caught her breath as one does who is doused by a bucket of ice water.

"But you have it! I've felt it!" she exclaimed.

Nara shook her head. She answered: "No. I too believed. But I was wrong, Mrs. Claveloux. And yet what difference does it make whether you are saved by me or by some other force?"

The invalid stared up into her face with an anxious, searching gaze; upon her expression could be read, as plainly as illuminated letters, her fear that some prop which supported her bridge over the black chasm of eternity might now give way.

"If you love me-go on!" she said in a low awed whisper.

"And if you love me, listen to me," returned Nara, closing tighter the grip of her hands upon the other woman's. "Listen to me when I tell you that you need fear nothing-that a great truth has been revealed to me that a power greater than any I could have is operating to make you well and strong -that if you will help it cannot fail." Mrs. Claveloux looked up at Nara's tense face.

"Why do you look at me so?" she asked.

"I am waiting for your promise. I am waiting to hear you say that you will have faith in me. I am waiting to have you say that you will reach forth for a great truth and believe with all your soul and mind and body."

For several moments there was silence in the room.

"Yes, I promise," the older woman said at last.

Nara went on to tell Mrs. Claveloux all her experience with Connor Lee, of her experiment with Carrie Miller, of the descent upon them of Dr. Haith Claveloux, of all the incidents of her successes, until she had first walked into this bedroom where Mrs. Claveloux then had been lying, slowly relinquishing her hold upon life.

"And you believe that I was honest?" she asked at last. "You would have done as I have done?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Claveloux, patting her hand. "I would have done as you have done."

"Then I can tell you more. For, if you believe in me, you must also believe in me when I tell you that I know now the great forces which I have seen

so closely and until to-day failed to recognize."

"I will try to see through your eyes, dear one."

Nara felt that she had come now to the critical moment. She arose and walked to the window, turning again nervously to come back to the foot of the bed.

"I have just learned that Connor Lee knew that there was no power belonging exclusively to me," she announced.

"How? Who told you?"
"Your son."

Mrs. Claveloux opened her eyes; her expression for a moment indicated that she had heard in Nara's voice as she said: "your son" something revealing.

"You mean Emlen!"

"Emlen," murmured Nara in a tone which betrayed her.

"Tell me! What does he know?"

"He knows that Connor Lee secretly sent at least one other girl to masquerade as The Presence. He knows that when that happened the result was quite as amazing as it would have been if I myself had gone."

Mrs. Claveloux's lips parted; an exhalation, audible and long, came from her as if her spirit had been allowed to escape from her body. Her shoulders and neck, suddenly relaxing as if all her strength had gone in that one moment, sank deeper into the pillows. The faint trace of color in her cheeks faded. Her eyes stared wide at the ceiling.

"For the sake of all of us!" pleaded Nara. "Mrs. Claveloux!"

"Let me think," the other said in a faint whisper. "You have taken away something suddenly. I must think."

Nara, with her breath coming faster, with the heat of her own excitement in her temples, bent over the invalid's bed, clutching the carved footboard, pleading with everything in the posture of her body, the expression in her eyes, the movement of changing emotions upon her young face.

"Can't you see, Mrs. Claveloux, that you must not let this weaken you? Can't you see that, if now I fail in making you see something better than any power in me, and if I tell you and you allow the truth to hurt you, I cannot go downstairs again and say: 'I have squared the account. I have told the truth. I have kept my promise?' "To my son?" the other woman muttered. "I know. I thought so. It was you! He was the man you told me of. Yesterday I did not know. But to-day I know. It is my son."

NARA

ARA was silent for a moment. "He told you?" she said at last.

"No," said Mrs. Claveloux. "He said nothing. He showed me some hands done in marble. All he said to me was: 'I have been given an extraordinary bit of sculpture. Adam Pine wanted me to have it, mother. So I took it, and here it is."

"If he said no more, how could you know?"

"These hands-they were yours." The girl held out the living ones suddenly in a gesture of appeal.

"There!" said Mrs. Claveloux. "You see them-your own! They are like the marble hands. I knew when I saw the hands that the man you had told me about was my own son." Nara gasped.

"I see so much-now!" the other whispered as if to herself, and again she closed her eyes. "I want so much for you-"

"You

"I am nothing," said Nara. must not think of me, Mrs. Claveloux. Please give all your strength now to one thought."

"To one thought?"

"Yes, to the miracle of your recovery. When you have found the truth about it-do you hear me?-you will be stronger than ever!"

"And what is the truth?"

TH

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