diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-03 20:40:17 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-03 20:40:17 -0800 |
| commit | f398fe57541eca93218dafe2e6a56f9c85bc784e (patch) | |
| tree | 5638a75d0755006d6d8735debc2e6ffa8919d83c | |
| parent | 47db0c984360ea2a0253a26560642be27d61a1c2 (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | 44062-0.txt | 391 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 44062-0.zip | bin | 113605 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 44062-h.zip | bin | 161170 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 44062-h/44062-h.htm | 417 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 44062.txt | 6599 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 44062.zip | bin | 112463 -> 0 bytes |
6 files changed, 5 insertions, 7402 deletions
diff --git a/44062-0.txt b/44062-0.txt index cdf3515..3958a5c 100644 --- a/44062-0.txt +++ b/44062-0.txt @@ -1,35 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crystal Ball, by Roy J. Snell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Crystal Ball - A Mystery Story for Girls - -Author: Roy J. Snell - -Release Date: October 29, 2013 [EBook #44062] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRYSTAL BALL *** - - - - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44062 *** _A Mystery Story for Girls_ @@ -6230,360 +6199,4 @@ Was she? If you wish to know, you must read _A Ticket to Adventure_. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crystal Ball, by Roy J. Snell -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRYSTAL BALL *** - -***** This file should be named 44062-0.txt or 44062-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/0/6/44062/ - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at - www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 -North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email -contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the -Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44062 *** diff --git a/44062-0.zip b/44062-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 35733a7..0000000 --- a/44062-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/44062-h.zip b/44062-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f02c826..0000000 --- a/44062-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/44062-h/44062-h.htm b/44062-h/44062-h.htm index 62a9a9c..7119c5b 100644 --- a/44062-h/44062-h.htm +++ b/44062-h/44062-h.htm @@ -2,7 +2,7 @@ <!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> <html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> <head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> <!-- terminate if block for class html --> <title>The Crystal Ball, by Roy J. Snell</title> @@ -148,44 +148,7 @@ p.t15,div.t15,.t15 { margin-left:19em;text-indent:-3em; margin-top:0; margin-b </style> </head> <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crystal Ball, by Roy J. Snell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Crystal Ball - A Mystery Story for Girls - -Author: Roy J. Snell - -Release Date: October 29, 2013 [EBook #44062] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRYSTAL BALL *** - - - - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44062 ***</div> <div id="cover" class="img"> <img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="The Crystal Ball" width="500" height="722" /> @@ -7292,380 +7255,6 @@ read <i>A Ticket to Adventure</i>.</p> <li>Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged.</li> <li>In the text versions, italic text is delimited by _underscores_.</li></ul> - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crystal Ball, by Roy J. Snell - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRYSTAL BALL *** - -***** This file should be named 44062-h.htm or 44062-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/0/6/44062/ - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at - www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 -North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email -contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the -Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - -</pre> - +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44062 ***</div> </body> </html> diff --git a/44062.txt b/44062.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d305532..0000000 --- a/44062.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6599 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crystal Ball, by Roy J. Snell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Crystal Ball - A Mystery Story for Girls - -Author: Roy J. Snell - -Release Date: October 29, 2013 [EBook #44062] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRYSTAL BALL *** - - - - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - _A Mystery Story for Girls_ - - - - - _The_ - CRYSTAL BALL - - - _By_ - ROY J. SNELL - - - The Reilly & Lee Co. - Chicago - - - _Printed in the United States of America_ - - COPYRIGHT 1936 - BY - THE REILLY & LEE CO. - PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I Midnight Blue Velvet 11 - II "Just Nothing at All" 28 - III Danger Tomorrow 36 - IV The "Tiger Woman" 45 - V Florence Gazes into the Crystal 51 - VI Gypsies That Are Not Gypsies 62 - VII The Bright Shawl 75 - VIII A Vision for Another 86 - IX Jeanne Plans an Adventure 104 - X A Voodoo Priestess 113 - XI Fireside Reflections 128 - XII Jeanne's Fortune 134 - XIII A Startling Revelation 148 - XIV Fire Destroys All 157 - XV The Interpreter of Dreams 169 - XVI The Secret of Lost Lake 177 - XVII From Out the Past 189 - XVIII D.X.123 195 - XIX One Wild Dream 199 - XX Some Considerable Treasure 213 - XXI Battle Royal 228 - XXII Little Lady in Gray 238 - XXIII Strange Treasure 252 - XXIV Through the Picture 266 - XXV A Visit in the Night 274 - XXVI In Which Some Things Are Well Finished 279 - - - - - THE CRYSTAL BALL - - - - - CHAPTER I - MIDNIGHT BLUE VELVET - - -Florence Huyler read the number on the door. She wondered at the lack of -light from within; the glass of the door was like a slab of ebony. - -"No one here," she murmured. "Just my luck." - -For all that, she put out a hand to grasp the knob. In a city office -building, ten stories up, one does not knock. Florence did not so much as -allow the yielding door to make a sound. She turned the knob as one -imagines a robber might turn the dial of a safe--slowly, silently. - -Why did she do this? Could she have answered this question? Probably not! -Certainly she was not spying on the occupants of that room--at least, not -yet. Perhaps that was the way she always opened a door. We all have our -ways of doing things. Some of us seize a door knob, give it a quick turn, -a yank, and there we are. And some, like Florence, move with the slyness -and softness of a cat. It is their nature. - -One thing is sure; once the door had yielded to her touch and she had -ushered herself into the semi-darkness that was beyond, she was glad of -that sly silence, for something quite mysterious was going on beyond that -door. - -She found herself in a place of all but complete darkness. Only before -her, where a pair of heavy drapes parted, was there a narrow slit of eery -blue light. - -There was no need of tiptoeing as she moved toward that long line of -light. Her sturdy street shoes sank deep in something she knew must be a -rich Oriental rug. - -"In such a building!" she thought with increasing surprise. The building -was old, might at any time be wrecked to make parking space for cars. The -elevator, as she came up, had swayed and teetered like a canary bird's -cage on a coiled spring. - -"And now this!" she whispered. "Oriental rugs and--yes, a heavy velvet -curtain of midnight blue. What a setting for--" - -Well, for what? She did not finish. That was the reason for her visit, to -find out what. She was engaged, these days, in finding out all manner of -curious and fantastic goings on. Was this to be one of the strangest, -weirdest, most fantastic, or was it, like many another, to turn out as a -simple, flat, uninteresting corner of a sad little world? - -Moving silently to that narrow streak that could barely be called light, -she peered boldly within. - -What she saw gave her a start. It was, she thought, like entering the -"Holy of Holies" of Bible times or the "Forbidden City" of Mongol kings. -For there, resting in a low receptacle at the exact center of a large -room, was a faintly gleaming crystal ball. This ball, which might have -been six inches in diameter with its holder, rested on a cloth of -midnight blue. Before it sat a silent figure. - -This person was all but hidden in shadows. A head crowned by a circle of -fluffy hair, a pair of youthful, drooping shoulders; this for the moment -was all she could see. The eyes, fixed upon the crystal ball, were turned -away from her. - -Even as she wondered and shuddered a little at what she saw, a voice, -seeming to come from nowhere, but everywhere at once, said: - -"It is given to some to see. Observe that which thou seest and record it -well upon the walls of thy memories, for thou mayest never look upon it -again." - -That voice sent a shudder through Florence's being. Was it the voice of a -woman or a man? A woman, she believed, yet the tone was low and husky -like a man's. As Florence looked she wondered, for the girl sitting there -before the crystal ball did not shudder. She sat gazing at the ball with -all the stillness of one entranced. - -Nor was the strange girl's perfect attention without purpose. Even as -Florence stood there all ears and eyes, she was ready to fly on the -instant, but just as determined to stay. - -The whole affair, the midnight blue of the curtains, the spot of light -that was a crystal ball, the girl sitting there like a statue, all seemed -so unreal that Florence found herself pinching her arm. "No," she -whispered, "it is not a dream." - -At that instant her attention was caught and held by that crystal ball. -Things were happening within that ball, or at least appeared to be -happening. - -The gleaming ball itself changed. It was grayer, less brilliant. Then, to -Florence's vast astonishment, she saw a tiny figure moving within the -ball. A child it was, she saw at a glance. A fair-haired, animated child -was moving within that ball. She came dancing into the center of what -appeared to be a large room. There she paused as if expecting someone. -The room the child had entered was beautiful. Real oil paintings hung on -the wall. There was a gorgeous bit of tapestry above the large open -fireplace. A great golden collie lay asleep before the fire. All this was -within the ball. And the animated child too was within the ball. - -Florence thought she had been bewitched. Surely nothing like this could -be seen within a solid glass ball. - -Just then the voice began again to speak. This time the voice was low. -Words were said in a distinct tone and all just alike. This is what it -said: - -"Sit quite still. Let your mood be one of tranquillity. Look with dreamy -eyes upon the crystal. Do not stare. It is not given to all to have magic -vision. Some see only in symbols. Some see those whom they seek--face to -face. You--" - -The voice broke off. The girl, seated in that mahogany chair, surrounded -by midnight blue velvet, had been gazing at the crystal all this time; -yet at this instant she appeared suddenly to become conscious of the -change within the crystal ball. Perhaps, since she looked at it from a -different angle, her vision had been obscured. - -The effect on the girl was strange. She shook like one with a chill. She -gripped the arms of the black chair until, in that strange light, her -hands appeared glistening white. Then, seeming to gain control of -herself, she settled back in her place and, at the command of that slow, -monotonous voice, "Keep your eyes on the crystal," fell into an attitude -of repose. Not, however, before Florence had noted a strange fact. "That -girl in the glass ball," she told herself, "is the one sitting in that -black chair. - -"But no! How could she be? Besides, the one in the ball is younger, much -younger. This is impossible. And yet, there are the same eyes, the same -hair, the same profile. It is strange." - -Then of a sudden she recalled that she was within the room of a -crystal-gazer, that the crystal ball had been credited with magic -properties, that one who gazed into it was supposed to see visions. Was -_she_ seeing a vision? - -"How could I see that girl as a child when I have never before seen her -at any age?" she asked herself. It was unbelievable. Yet, there it was. - -Could the crystal ball bring back to the girl memories of her childhood? -That did not appear so impossible. But-- - -Now again there was a change coming over the crystal ball. A sudden -lighting up of its gray interior announced the opening of a door in that -fanciful house, the letting in of bright sunshine. The door closed. Gray -shadows reappeared. Into those shadows walked a distinguished appearing, -tall, gray-haired man. At once, into his arms sprang the fair-haired -child. All this appeared to go forward in that astonishing crystal ball. - -At this instant Florence's attention was distracted by a low cry that was -all but a sob. It came from the lips of that girl sitting close to the -crystal ball. As Florence looked she saw her staring with surprising -intensity at the ball. At the same time Florence, who read lips almost as -well as she could hear with her ears, made out her words: - -"Father--that must be my father! My long lost father! It must be! It--" - -At that instant something touched Florence's shoulder. As she looked back -she saw only the hand and half an arm. It was a woman's hand. From the -third finger, gleaming like an evil eye, shone a large ruby. The hand was -long, hard and claw-like. It grasped Florence's shoulder and pulled her -back. She did not resist, though she might very successfully have done -so. She was strong, was Florence--strong as a man. But about that hand -there was something terrifying and altogether sinister. Florence had -studied hands. She had come to know their meanings. They tell as much of -character as do faces. And this, a left hand, seemed to say, "My mate, -the right hand, is hidden. In it is a dagger. So beware!" - -Florence did not resist. Before she knew what had happened she was out in -the dark and dusty hallway. The door she had entered was closed and -locked against her. - -"So that's that!" she said with a forced smile. But was that that? Was -there to be much more? Very much more? Only time would tell. When one -discovers an enthralling mystery, one does not soon forget. Such a -mystery was contained in that crystal ball. - - -"That's one of them!" Florence declared emphatically to herself. "It -surely must be! - -"That girl," she thought with a sigh, "can't be more than -sixteen--perhaps not that. And her appearance speaks of money. Clothes -all fit perfectly and in exquisite taste. Didn't come from a department -store, that's sure. - -"But the look on her face--sad, eager, hopeful, all in one. How easy it -is to lead such a person on and on and on. - -"On to what?" she asked herself with a start. - -"This," she concluded, "is a case that calls for action. I'll see Frances -Ward first thing in the morning. - -"And then," she laughed a low laugh, "perhaps I'll take a few lessons in -crystal gazing. Just perhaps. And again, perhaps not." She recalled that -claw-like hand and the ruby that appeared to burn like fire. "Anyway, -I'll try." - -Florence, as you may have guessed by this time, was back in Chicago. It -had been late autumn when she arrived. So often these days she had been -in need of friends. She had found friends, two of them. And such -wonderful friends as they were! One, Frances Ward, had given her work of -a sort, a very strange sort. The other, Marie Mabee, had given her a -home, and a marvelous home it was. Florence had not dreamed of such good -fortune. And best of all, Petite Jeanne, the little French girl, was with -her. - -Jeanne's airplane, the Dragonfly, was stored away. For the time at least, -her flow of gold from France had ceased. Her chateau in her native land -lay among the hills where grapes were grown. It was surrounded by grape -arbors, miles of them. Some strange blight had fallen upon the vines. -Grapes failed to ripen. There was no more money. - -"And why should there be?" Jeanne had exclaimed when the letter came. -"Who wants money? One is happier without it. I have my friends, the -gypsies. They seldom have money, yet they never starve. I shall go to -them. Perhaps I may find a bear who will dance with me. Then how the -coins shall jingle!" - -To her surprise and great unhappiness, she found that her gypsy friends -were now living in a tumbled-down tenement house, that they had parted -with their vans and brightly colored cars and were living like the -sparrows on what they might pick up on the unfriendly city streets. - -Disheartened, the little French girl had gone to the park by the lake for -a breath of God's pure air. And there, in a strange manner, she had found -glorious happiness. - -Jeanne never forgot her friends. She hunted up Florence and made for her -a place in that path of happiness quite as broad as her own. - -Just now, as Florence hurried down the wind-driven, wintry streets, as -she dodged a skidding cab, rounded a corner where the wind took her -breath away, then went coursing on toward the south, she thought of all -this and smiled. - -Two hours later, just as a distant clock tolled out the hour of nine, she -found herself seated in the very midst of all this glorious happiness. - -She was seated in a room above the city's most beautiful boulevard. The -room was beneath the very roof of a great skyscraper. It was a large -room, a studio. Not a place where some very rich person played at being -an artist, but a real studio where beautiful and costly works of art were -produced by a slim and masterly hand. - -Had Florence turned artist? She would have laughed had you asked her. "I, -an artist!" she would have exclaimed. She would have held out two -shapely, quite powerful hands and have said, "Paint pictures with these? -Well, perhaps. But I was born for action. How could I stand for hours, -touching a canvas here and there with a tiny brush?" - -No, Florence had not turned artist, nor had Petite Jeanne. For all this, -the most wonderful thing had happened to them. Often and often they had -dreamed of it. In days of adversity when they sat upon stools and washed -down hamburger sandwiches with very black coffee, Jeanne had said, -"Florence, my very good friend, would it not be wonderful if someone very -good and very successful would take us under her wing?" - -"Yes." Florence had fallen in with the dream. "A great opera singer, or -perhaps one who writes wonderful books." - -"Or an artist, one who paints those so marvelous pictures one sees in the -galleries!" Jeanne dreamed on. - -Even in days of their greatest prosperity, when Jeanne had gone flitting -across the country, a "flying gypsy," and Florence was happy in her work, -they had not given up this dream. For, after all, what in all this world -can compare with the companionship of one older than ourselves, who is at -one and the same time kind, beautiful, talented, and successful? - -And then, out of the clear October sky that shone over the park by the -lake there in Chicago, their good angel had appeared. - -It was not she who had appeared at once. Far from it. Instead, when -Jeanne went to the park that day she had found at first only a group of -tired and rather ragged gypsies, who, having parked their rusty cars, had -gathered on the grass to eat a meager lunch. - -Jeanne had spied them. She had hurried away without a word, to return -fifteen minutes later with a bundle all too heavy for her slender arms. -Inside that bundle were, wonderful to relate, three large meat pies, four -apple pies, a small Swiss cheese such as gypsies love, and all manner of -curious French pastry. There were a dozen gypsy children in the group -gathered there in the park. How their dark eyes shone as Jeanne spread -out this rich repast! - -These strange people stared at her doubtfully. When, however, she laughed -and exclaimed in their own strange tongue, "I too am a gypsy!" and when, -seizing the oldest girl of the group, she dragged her whirling and -laughing over the grass in her own wild gypsy dance, they all cried, -"Bravo! Bravo! She is one of us indeed!" - -Then how meat pies, apple pies, cheese and pastry vanished! - -When the feast was over, having borrowed a bright skirt, a broad sash and -kerchief, Jeanne led them all in a dance that was wilder, more furious -than any they had known for many a day. - -"Come!" they shouted when the dance was over. "We were sad. You have -brought us happiness. See!" They pointed to a dark cloud that was a flock -of blackbirds flying south. "You must come with us. We will follow these -birds in their flight. When winter comes we shall camp where roses bloom -all the winter through, where oranges hang like balls of gold among the -leaves and the song of spring is ever in the air." - -Jeanne listened and dreamed. But her good friend Florence? She was not -faring so well. Winter was at hand. How could Jeanne leave her in this -great dark city alone? - -Just then a strange thing happened. A tall woman of striking appearance -came up to the group. She wore a green smock all marked up with red and -blue paint. There was a smudge of orange on her cheek, and in her hand a -dozen small brushes. - -"See!" She held up an unfinished sketch. It was a picture of Petite -Jeanne, Jeanne in her bright costume dancing with the raggedest gypsy of -them all. On the face of Jeanne and the ragged child was a look of -inspired joy. - -"You are a genius!" Jeanne cried in surprise, "You have painted my -picture!" She was overjoyed. - -"I am a painter," the lady, who was neither young nor old, said. -"Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I fail. But you?" She turned to Jeanne. -"Do you know many of these people?" - -"I--" Jeanne laughed. "I am related to them all. Is it not so?" She -appealed to her new-found friends. - -"Yes! Yes! To us all," they cried in a chorus. - -When, a half hour later, Jeanne bade a reluctant farewell to the gypsy -clan, it was in the company of the artist. The leader of the gypsies had -been presented with a bright new twenty-dollar bill, and Jeanne had made -a friend she would not soon forget. What a day! What a happy adventure! - - - - - CHAPTER II - "JUST NOTHING AT ALL" - - -The artist's name was Marie Mabee. It was in her studio that Florence, on -the evening after her strange experience with the crystal ball, found -herself seated. It was a marvelous place, that studio. It was a large -room. Its polished floor was strewn with all manner of strange Indian -rugs. Marie Mabee was American to the tips of her toes. Save for one -picture, everything in that room was distinctly American. The spinet desk -with chair that matched, the drapes and tapestries, the andirons before -the broad open fireplace, the great comfortable upholstered chair, all -these were made in America. - -The one cherished bit from the Old World that adorned the room was a -picture. It was a masterpiece of the nineteenth century. In that picture -the sun shone bright upon a flock of sheep hurrying for shelter from a -storm that lay black as night against the rugged hills behind. Trees were -bending before a gale, the shepherd's cloak was flying, every touch told -of the approaching storm. - -"It's all so very real!" Florence thought to herself as she looked at the -picture now. "It is like Marie Mabee herself. She too is real. And the -things she creates are real. That is why she is such a great success." - -As if to verify her own conclusion, she looked at a canvas reposing on an -easel in the corner. The picture was almost done. It showed Petite Jeanne -garbed in a bright gypsy costume, flinging arms wide in a wild gypsy -dance. In the background, indistinct but quite real, were wild eager -faces, a fiddler, two singing gypsy children, and behind them the night. - -Marie Mabee had determined that by her pictures there should be preserved -the memory of much that was passing in American life. The gypsies were -passing. One by one they were being swallowed up by great cities. Soon -the country would know them no more. She had taken Jeanne into her heart -and home because in Jeanne's heart there lived like a flame the spirit of -the gypsies at their best, because Jeanne knew all the gypsies and could -bring them to the studio to be posed and painted. She had taken in -Florence as well; first, because she was Jeanne's friend, and second, -because, with all others, the moment she came to know her she loved her. - -"It is all very wonderful!" Florence whispered to herself as, after an -exciting day, she sank deeper into the great chair by the fire. "How -inspiring to live with one who has made a grand success of life, whose -pictures are hung in every gallery and coveted by every rich person in -the city! And yet," she sighed contentedly, "how simple and kind she is! -Not the least bit high-hat or superior. Wonder if all truly great people -are like that? I wonder--" - -She broke short off to listen. A stairway led up from the top of the -elevator shaft, one floor below. She did not recognize the tread of the -person coming up the stairs. She wondered and shuddered. Somehow she felt -that on leaving that room of midnight blue and a crystal ball, she had -been followed. Had she? If so, why? She was not long in guessing the -reason. Twice in the last few weeks she had whispered a few well-chosen -words in the ears of Patrick Moriarity, a bright young policeman who was -interested in people, just any kind of people. Patrick had rapped on -certain doors and had said his little say. When next Florence passed that -way, there was a "For Rent" sign on the door, right where Patrick had -rapped. - - "Folded their tents like the Arabs - And silently stole away," - -she whispered to herself. - -She wondered in a dreamy sort of way whether those people, while they -reluctantly packed a few tricks of their crooked trade, had recalled a -large, ruddy-faced girl who had visited them once or twice to have her -fortune told, and did they know she was that girl? - -"Fortunes!" she exclaimed. "Fortunes!" Then she laughed a low laugh. - -At once her face sobered. Was it, after all, a laughing matter, this -having your fortune told? For some surely it was not. She had seen them -seated on hard chairs, waiting. There were lines of sorrow and -disappointment on their faces. They had come to ask the crystal-gazer, -the palmist, the phrenologist, the reader of cards or stars, to tell -their fortune. They wanted terribly to know when the tide of fortune -would turn for them, when prosperity would come ebbing back again. And -she, Florence, all too often could read in their faces the answer which -came to her like the wash of the waves on a sandy shore: - -"Never--never--never." - -"And what do these tellers of fortunes predict?" she asked herself. She -did not know. Only her own fortune she knew well enough. Had she not had -it told a half hundred times in the last months? - -"My fortune!" she laughed anew. "What a strange fortune it would be if -all they told me came true! A castle, a farm, a city flat, a sea island, -a mountain home, a dark man for a husband, a light one for a husband, and -one with red hair! Whew! I'd have to be a movie actress to have all that. - -"And yet--" Once again her smile vanished. Was there, after all, in some -of it something real? That crystal ball now--the one she had seen that -very afternoon. She had been told that visions truly do come to those who -gaze into the crystal ball. Had she not seen visions? And that -fair-haired girl, had she not seen visions as well? - -Once again her mood changed. What was it this girl had wanted to know? -She had said, "My long lost father!" Was her father really lost? Who was -her father? She was dressed like a child of the rich. Was she rich? And -was she in danger? - -"I must know!" Florence sprang to her feet. "I must go back there. I--" - -Once again she broke short off. There came a sound from without. A key -rattled in the lock. - -"Some--someone," she breathed, starting back, "and he has a key!" - -Her eyes were frantically searching for a place of hiding when the door -swung open and a tall lady in a sealskin coat appeared. - -"Oh! Miss Mabee!" Florence exclaimed. "It is you!" - -"Yes. And why not I?" Marie Mabee laughed. "What's up? How startled you -looked!" - -"Nothing--just nothing at all," Florence said in a calmer tone as she -sprang forward to assist her hostess with her wraps. - -"Did you see anyone on the stairs?" she asked quietly. - -"No. Why? Have you stolen something?" Miss Mabee laughed. "Are you -expecting the police?" - -"No, not that," Florence laughed in answer. "I've only been having my -fortune told." - -"Is that so dangerous?" Miss Mabee arched her brows. - -"Yes, sometimes I'm afraid it is," Florence replied soberly. "I know of -one case where it cost a poor woman four hundred dollars." - -"How could it?" came in a tone of surprise. - -"She had the money. They told her to leave it with them for luck. The -luck was all wrong. They vanished." - -"But that is an extreme case." - -"Yes," Florence replied slowly, "it is extreme. And yet, in days like -these, people, who might in happier days be harmless, turn wolf and prey -upon the innocent. At least, that's what Frances Ward says. And she -usually knows. She says it is the duty of those who are strong to battle -against the wolves." - -"And so you, my beautiful strong one, are battling the wolves? Good for -you!" Marie Mabee gave her sturdy arm an affectionate squeeze. "That's -quite all right. Only," she laughed, "please let me know when the wolves -start coming up the stairs." - -"I--I'll try," Florence replied in a changed tone. - -"And now," said Marie Mabee, "how about a nice cup of steaming chocolate -and some of those rare cakes that just came from that little bakery -around the corner?" - -"Grand!" Florence exclaimed. "Here is one person who can always eat and -never regret." - -"Fine!" the artist exclaimed. "It's wonderful to be strong and be able to -glory in it. On with the feast!" - - - - - CHAPTER III - DANGER TOMORROW - - -"Jeanne, one of your friends has stolen four hundred dollars!" Florence -exclaimed, springing to her feet as Jeanne, garbed in a plaid coat and -with a silver-grey fox fur about her neck, breezed in from the night. She -had been to the Symphony concert. Her ears still rang with the final -notes of a great concerto. Florence's startling words burst upon her like -a sudden blare of trombones and clash of cymbals all in one. - -"My friend?" she exclaimed in sudden consternation. "One of my friends -has stolen all that?" - -"From a poor widow with three small children," Florence said soberly. -Then in a changed, half teasing tone, "Anyway, the paper says the thief -was a gypsy, so I suppose she was, and a fortune teller as well." - -"Oh! A gypsy!" Breathing a sigh of relief, Jeanne threw off her wraps, -tossed back her shock of golden hair, then sank into a chair before the -burned-out fire where Florence had sat musing for an hour. - -"My dear--" Jeanne placed a long slender hand on Florence's arm. "Not all -gypsies are my friends--only some gypsies. Not all gypsies are good. Some -are very, very bad. You should know that. Surely you have not forgotten -how those bad ones in France seized me and carried me away to the Alps -when I was to dance in the so beautiful Paris Opera!" - -"No," Florence laughed, "I have not forgotten. All the same, you must -help me. Mr. Joslyn--he is our editor, you know--sent down a marked copy -of the paper. Above the story of the gypsy fortune teller's theft he -wrote, '_This is right in your line_.' - -"So!" she sighed. "It's up to me. Until just now I have been a reporter -of a sort, rather more entertaining and amusing than serious. But now--" -she squared her shoulders. "Now I am to become a sort of -reporter-detective, at least for a time. - -"And Jeanne," she added earnestly, "you must help me, you truly must. You -know all the gypsies in the city." - -"No, not all. But no! No!" Jeanne protested. - -"You know the good ones and the bad ones," Florence went on, ignoring her -denial. "You must help me find this bad one, and, if it is not too late, -we must get that money back. - -"How foolish some people are!" Her voice dropped. "Here was a woman with -three small children. She collected four hundred dollars from her -husband's estate. She hurries right off to the gypsies because one of -them has told her two months before that she is to have money. Money!" -She laughed scornfully. "Probably they tell everyone that--makes them -feel good. - -"Then she asks them how to invest it so it will become a great deal of -money right away, and they say, 'Leave it with us for luck.' She goes -away. They vanish. And there you are!" - -"Where did this so terrible thing happen?" Jeanne asked. - -"In one of the narrow streets back of Maxwell Street." - -"Maxwell Street!" Jeanne shuddered. She had been on Maxwell Street; did -not wish ever to go again. But now-- - -"Ah, well, my good friend," she sighed, "it is always so. We come into -great good fortune. We have marvelous friends. Marvelous things of beauty -are all about us. We sigh with joy and bask in the sunshine. And then, -bang! Duty says, 'Go to Maxwell Street. Go where there is dirt and -disorder, unhappiness, hatred and poverty.' We listen to Duty, and we go. -Yes, my good friend Florence, tomorrow I shall go. - -"And," she added mysteriously, "when I am there, even you, if you meet -me, will not know me." - -"You will be careful!" Florence's brow wrinkled. - -"I shall be careful. And now--" Jeanne rose, then went weaving her way in -a slow rhythmic dance toward a narrow metal stairway leading to a -balcony. "Now I go to my dreams. _Bon nuit!_" - -"Good night," Florence replied as once more her eyes sought the -burned-out fire. - -"Strange! Life is strange!" she murmured. - -And life for her _had_ been strange. Perhaps it always would be strange. - -She did not retire at once. The studio, with its broad fireplace, its -deep-cushioned chairs and dim lights, was a cozy, dreamy place at night. -She wanted to think and dream a while. - -Never in all her event-filled life had Florence been employed in a -stranger way than at that moment. She was, you might say, a reporter, or, -better perhaps, an investigator, for one of the city's great daily -papers. - -She had walked into the newspaper office one morning, as she had walked -into a hundred places, just to ask what there was she might do. She had, -by great good fortune, been introduced to Frances Ward, who proved to be -the most interesting and inspiring old lady she had ever known. - -"Our paper," Mrs. Ward had said, "is cutting down on its playground and -welfare work. There is--" she had hesitated to peer searchingly into -Florence's face--"there is something I have been thinking of for a -considerable time. It's a thing I can't do myself." She laughed a -cackling sort of laugh. "I am too old and wise-looking. You are young and -fresh and, pardon me, innocent-looking. - -"You wouldn't mind," she asked suddenly, "having your fortune told?" - -"Of course not." Florence stared. - -"Several times a day," Frances Ward added, "by all sorts of people, those -who read the bumps on your head, who study the lines in your palms or the -stars you were born under, card-readers, crystal-gazers and all the -rest." - -"That," Florence said, "sounds exciting." - -"It won't be after a while," Mrs. Ward warned. "All right, we'll arrange -it. You'll have to find these fortune tellers. We don't carry their ads. -Some have signs in their windows. That is easy. But those are not the -best--or perhaps the worst of them. The most successful ones operate more -or less in secret. The way you find these is to say to someone, a clerk -in a store, a hair-dresser, a check girl in a hotel, 'Where can I find a -good fortune teller?' She will laugh, like as not, and say, 'I don't -know.' Then, 'Oh, yes! Mary Martensen, the girl who does my nails, told -me of a wonderful one. She told her the most astonishing things about -herself. And, just think, she's only been there twice! Wait till I call -her up. I'll get her address for you.' - -"And when you have that address--" Frances Ward settled back in her -chair. "You go there and say, 'So-and-so told me about you.' You have -your fortune told. Remember as much as you can, the fortune teller's -name, her appearance, the kind of fortune she tells you, the setting of -her studio, everything. Then you come here and prepare a story for your -column. We'll call it 'Looking Into the Future.'" - -"But I--I'm afraid I can't write stories!" Florence said in sudden -dismay. - -"You don't have to," Mrs. Ward laughed. "Just tell a reporter all about -it and he'll write it up. It will be a new and popular newspaper feature. - -"_Looking Into the Future!_" she repeated softly. "If you do your work -well, as I know you will, the feature is sure to prove a success from the -start. - -"But let me warn you!" Her voice dropped. "You will find it not only -interesting and thrilling, but dangerous as well, for some fortune -tellers are wolves. They rob the poor people by leading them on and on. -These must be exposed. And, though we will conceal your identity as much -as possible, there are likely to be times when these people will suspect -you. If this--" she looked at Florence earnestly, "if this is too -terrifying, now is the time to say so." - -Florence had not "said so." She had taken the position. Her column had -been popular from the start. And now, as she sat there before the fire in -the studio, recalling the words of Frances Ward, "not only interesting, -but dangerous," she repeated that last word, "dangerous." - -At that moment a tiny spirit seemed to take up the refrain and whisper in -her ear, "Dangerous. That is the place! The midnight blue room is for you -a place of peril. If you go there tomorrow, you are in for it! You can -never turn back until you have found the end of the road which winds on -and on, far and far away." - -"Tomorrow," she whispered as she rose to fling her strong arms wide, -"tomorrow I shall return to that place of midnight blue draperies, and I -shall ask someone there to teach me how to read fortunes by gazing into -the crystal ball." There was a new fire in her eye as she mounted the -narrow stairs to enter the chamber which the great artist had so -graciously set aside for her use. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - THE "TIGER WOMAN" - - -For Florence fortune telling had always held a certain fascination, not -unmixed with fear. Very early in life she had lived for some time with an -aunt. Always now, as she closed her eyes, she could see that aunt, -straight-lipped, diligent, at times friendly, but always holding close to -what she believed was "duty." Often, too, she seemed to hear her say, -"Cards, all playing cards, belong to the Devil. They are of very ancient -origin, almost as old as Satan himself. The first cards were made for the -purpose of fortune telling. Fortune telling, when it is not pure fraud, -belongs to the Devil. Remember Saul. Think how, when he was going to -battle he slipped away to that wicked witch. He asked her to tell him how -the battle would go. Well, he found out, but little pleasure it brought -him! He lost his throne and his head the very next day!" - -Florence did not believe all this, nor did she entirely disbelieve it. -She tried to look at things calmly and clearly, then decide for herself. -All the same, she shuddered as next day she tapped lightly at the door -behind which a room was shrouded in midnight blue, and where a crystal -ball shone dully. - -She smiled in spite of herself as the door opened only a crack and a pair -of suspicious inquiring eyes peered out. - -"Something to hide," was the thought that came to her. But was this quite -fair? There were policemen always loitering about in the hallway of her -own newspaper office. Perhaps all of life was a little dangerous these -days. - -"Marian Stanley sent me," she hastened to say before the door might -close. "She is the night clerk at the Dunbar Hotel. She told me about -you, how--" - -"Won't you come in?" The door was wide open now. Before her stood a -short, stout woman with strangely tawny hair. "Like a tiger's," Florence -thought, "and I believe it's a genuine shade." - -"I--I'd like to learn about crystal gazing," she said as she entered the -room of midnight blue. "Is--is it frightfully difficult?" - -"To learn?" The Tiger Lady, as Florence was to call her, elevated her -eyebrows. "A certain way, it is not difficult. But to go far, very far, -as I have done--" the Tiger Woman sighed. "Ah, that is a matter of years. -Then, too, there are secrets, deep secrets." Her voice took on an air of -mystery. "Secrets regarding the meaning of light, sound, and feelings; -secrets regarding the moon and the stars, which we who have journeyed far -could not afford to share. - -"But if you care to go a little way--" she spread out her hand. "Then I -am here to show you for--let me see--" She pretended to consider. "Oh, -you shall pay me two dollars. Huh? Will that be O. K.?" Her voice took on -a playful note. - -"Two dollars will be all right. And may I begin at once?" There was in -Florence's words a note of eagerness that was genuine. - -"This," she was thinking, "is a fresh way of approach. Perhaps there _is_ -something to this crystal gazing. I may become a famous gazer. How grand -that will be! - -"Besides," came as an afterthought, "I may be able to discover some -worthwhile facts about that girl who saw those pictures in the crystal -ball. Surely those pictures were real enough. But how did they come -there? Could her imagination produce them? If so, would I too be able to -see them?" She had a feeling that they had been produced by some strange -magic--or was it magic? She could not be sure. - -"Now--" Madame Zaran, the crystal-gazer, took on a manner quite -professional as she hid Florence's two dollars on her person. "Now we -shall proceed." - -She motioned the girl to the ebony chair beside the table where the -crystal ball rested. Then with nervous, active fingers she began -arranging articles on that table. - -Florence was interested in these few objects. A raven carved from black -marble, a bronze dragon with fiery eyes, and a god of some sort with an -ugly countenance and a prodigious mouth, all these were on that table. -Madame arranged them about the crystal ball, but some distance away from -it. Then, as if the ball were a sacred thing, she lifted it with great -care to place it in a saucer-like receptacle over which a bronze eagle -perpetually hovered. - -The girl was much interested in the gazer's hands. In her wanderings -about the city in search of fortune telling facts, she had picked up -interesting bits about hands. She was convinced that long slender fingers -belonged to a person of a nervous and artistic temperament and that a -very broad hand told of force coupled with great determination. Madame's -hand was fairly broad, but her fingers were not long. Instead they were -short and curved. "Like the claws of some great cat," the girl thought -with a shudder. Never had she seen fingers that seemed better suited to -clawing in hoards of gold. - -"And she would not care how she came by it," Florence thought. And yet, -how could she be sure of that? - -"Now," Madame said in a changed tone, "look at the crystal. Concentrate. -There is no spirit moving in the crystal. You need not draw one out. The -pictures of past and future you are to see by gazing in the crystal are -to come from within your own mind, or shall come to you from the spirit -world outside the crystal. - -"Do not stare. Relax. Look quietly at the crystal. In this room there is -nothing to disturb you, no radio with its noise, no ticking clock, -nothing. The light is subdued. I myself shall retire. You have only to -gaze in the crystal. This time you may see much. Then again, you may see -nothing. It is not given to all, this great gift of looking into the -future. - -"If it is given you to see, you will find first that the crystal begins -to look dull and cloudy, with pin points of light glittering out of that -fog. When this appears, you shall know that you are beginning to have -crystalline vision. In time this shall vanish. In its stead will come a -sort of blindness wherein you shall appear to float through great spaces -of blue. It is against this background of blue that your vision must -appear. - -"Ready? Concentrate. Gaze. - -"I am gone," came in a tone that sounded faint and far away. Florence was -alone--alone in the room of midnight blue and the faintly gleaming -crystal ball. - - - - - CHAPTER V - FLORENCE GAZES INTO THE CRYSTAL - - -She was alone with the crystal--or was she? She could not be sure. Which -is more disturbing, to be alone in a room where a half-darkness hangs -over all, or to feel that there is someone else in the room? - -Only yesterday she had been seized by a clutching hand and ushered out of -that room. Where now was the owner of that hand? She had no way of -knowing. One thing was sure, that had not been Madame Zaran's hand. Those -fingers had been long, slim and bony. Madame's were not like that. - -"But I must concentrate!" She shook herself vigorously. "I must gaze at -the crystal." As she focussed her attention on the crystal ball, she -became conscious of two gleaming green eyes. These were small but -piercing. They belonged to the bronze eagle that, hovering over the ball -in this dim light, seemed to have suddenly come alive. - -"Bah!" she exclaimed low, "what a bother sometimes an imagination may -become! It must be controlled. I shall control it!" she ended stoutly. - -In the end she did just that and with the most surprising results. -Settling back easily in her chair, feeling the cool darkness of the place -and heaving a sigh, she fixed her eyes dreamily upon the crystal ball. -For a full five minutes there was no change. The ball remained simply a -faintly gleaming circle of light. Then, ah, yes! a change came. The ball -lost some of its distinctness. It turned gray and cloudy. Pin points of -light like shooting stars appeared against the gray. - -This continued for some time. Then, of a sudden, warmth came over the -girl as she saw that gray turn to the faint blue of a morning sky. -Leaning eagerly forward, she waited. - -"Yes! Yes!" Her lips formed words she did not speak. The lower portion of -that blue turned to gray and green. She was looking now at rocky ridges -half overgrown with glorious trees--spruce, birch, and balsam. Beneath -this were dark, cool waters. Above, fleecy clouds raced across a dark -blue sky. On the water were no boats, in the forest no people. She was -gloriously alone. - -"Oh!" Florence breathed, stretching out her hands as if to gather it in. - -Now there came another change. Fading away as in the movies, half the -trees became bare and leafless. The rocks, the grass and all the barren -branches were bedecked with snow. The surface of the water glistened. -"Winter," she whispered. Then, as a strange emotion swept over her, she -cried, "Where? Where?" - -As if frightened away by that sudden sound, the vision vanished and there -she sat staring at a glass ball that was, as far as her eyes could tell -her, just a hard glass ball and nothing more. - -"How strange!" She pinched herself. "How very strange!" - -But now a change was coming over the room itself. It was slowly filling -with a dim light. She made out indistinctly a broad, black, dead -fireplace, and above it on the mantel a great green dragon with fiery -eyes. - -Then with a sudden start she sat straight up. On the opposite wall, -against the midnight blue velvet, a shadow had appeared, a very distinct -shadow of a man. Or was it of a man? The nose was long and sharp. The -chin curved out like the tip of a new moon. It was a terrifying profile. - -"The--the Devil!" She did not say the words--only thought them. At the -same time she seemed to hear her dead aunt say, "All this fortune telling -business belongs to the Devil." - -"Well? How about it?" - -Florence could not have been more startled by these words had they been -shouted in her ear. They had been said quietly by Madame Zaran. She had -returned. And in the meantime the sinister shadow had vanished from the -wall. - -"I--why, I--" With a sort of mental click the girl's mind returned to her -vision of water, forest, and sky. "I saw--" - -"Wait! Do not tell me, not now." Madame held up a hand. "Ah, you are one -of those who are fortunate! It is given to very few that they shall see -visions in the crystal ball on the very first time of their trying. You -will go far. You must come again and again." - -Madame's hands were in motion. Florence fancied she could see those -claw-like fingers raking in piles of crisp new greenbacks. - -"But I may be doing her a grave injustice," she reproved herself. - -"I shall return," she found herself saying to Madame Zaran. - -"Perhaps tomorrow?" - -"Perhaps tomorrow." - -Scarcely knowing what she did, the girl let herself out of the room, -caught the elevator, and next moment found herself in the bright -sunlight, which, after all that midnight blue darkness and air of -mystery, seemed very strange indeed. - -"Now for Sandy and his glass box," she thought to herself when her mind -had become accustomed to the world of solid reality about her. Sandy was -her youthful red-headed reporter. Sandy was her "ghost writer." She -supplied the material of her own column, "Looking Into the Future." It -was Sandy who pounded it all into form on his trusty typewriter. His -"glass box," as she laughingly called it, was an office on the sixth -floor of the newspaper office building that looked down upon the city's -slow, easy-going river. - -Sandy was not at all like the river. He was up-and-coming, was Sandy. The -instant she came into his glass box he bounced out of his chair. - -"Hope you've got something good today!" he cried. "Big Girl, we've got a -real thing here. Knocking 'em cold, we are. Look at this!" He put his -hand on a wire basket filled to overflowing with letters. "All for you, -all fan mail. And the things they want to know!" He laughed a merry -laugh. "Old maid wanting to know some charm for attracting a man; a -mother wanting the name of a crystal-gazer who can see where her long -lost boy is; men wanting a fortune teller that will give them tips on the -stock market. Funny, sad, tragic little old world of ours! It wants to -gaze into the future right enough. They-- - -"But say!" he broke off to exclaim. "You look as if you'd seen a ghost." - -"Do I?" Florence's eyes brightened. "Well, I've got a real story this -time. I-- - -"Wait a minute!" Florence broke short off to go dashing out of the glass -box, then started gliding on tiptoe after a girl who was hurrying down -the long narrow corridor. - -"It doesn't seem possible," she whispered to herself. "But it's true. -That's the girl I saw in that room of midnight blue velvet, the one who -saw moving figures in the crystal ball. And here she is hurrying along -toward Frances Ward's desk. I'll get her story. I surely will. I _must_!" -she murmured low as she hurried on. - -She was mistaken in part at least. There are some people whose stories -are not to be told at a single sitting. The girl hurrying on before her -was one of these. - -Frances Ward it had been who found Florence her latest opportunity for -work, mystery and adventure. As Florence thought of all this now, a great -wave of affection for the gray-haired woman swept over her. - -Frances Ward was old, perhaps past seventy. Her hair was frizzy, her -dress plain and at times almost uncouth. Her desk was always covered with -a littered mess of letters, paper files, scribbled notes and pictures. "A -poor old woman," you might say. Ah, no! Frances Ward was rich--not in -dollars perhaps; still she _was_ not altogether poor at that--she was -rich in friends. For Frances Ward was, as someone had named her, -"Everybody's Grandmother." She called herself, at the head of one column, -"Friend of the People." This, in a great busy sometimes selfish, -sometimes wicked city, was Frances Ward at her best, the Friend. - -Because of this, the mysterious young girl whom Florence had only the day -before seen gazing into the crystal ball and apparently seeing most -mysterious pictures of her early life, was now calling upon Frances Ward -for advice. - -As Florence reached the door of Mrs. Ward's office, she heard the -mysterious girl say, "I--I am June Travis." - -"Oh!" There was a note of welcome in the aged woman's voice. "Won't you -have a chair? And what can I do for you?" - -Frances Ward did not so much as look up as Florence, after slipping by -her, seated herself before a narrow table in the corner of her office and -began scribbling rapidly. This was not Florence's accustomed place. But -Frances Ward was old. She understood many things. - -"Well, you see--" the strange girl's fingers locked and unlocked -nervously. "I--I read your column al--almost every day. It--it has -interested me, the way you--you help people. I--I thought you might be -able to help me." - -"Yes." Frances Ward bestowed upon her a warm, sincere smile. "I might be -able to help you. Will you please tell me how? You see--" she smiled -broadly. "I am neither a mind reader nor a fortune teller, so--" - -"No!" The girl shuddered. "No, of course you're not. But just think! It -is partly that, about fortune tellers, I wanted to ask you. Do you -believe in them, crystal-gazers and all that?" - -"No--" Frances Ward appeared to weigh her words. "N-no, I'm afraid I -don't, at least not very much. Of course, some of them are keen students -of human nature. If they can read your face, understand your actions, -they may be able to help you to understand yourself so as to meet with -greater success. But--" - -"Do you believe they could make you see people in the crystal -ball--people that you have not seen for years and years?" The girl leaned -forward eagerly. - -"I should say that would be quite unusual." Frances Ward smiled. "I -should like to witness such a feat. I should indeed." - -"Perhaps you can!" June Travis exclaimed. "I saw it only last evening, -saw it with my own eyes. I saw my father, whom I have not seen for ten -years--saw him distinctly in the crystal ball!" - -"You seem quite young." Frances Ward spoke slowly. "You must have been a -very small child when your father--" she hesitated. "Did he die?" - -"No! Oh, no!" the girl exclaimed. "He--he just went away. But he didn't -desert me. He left money, plenty of money, for my care. That--that's why -I am so anxious to find him now. It's the money. There is quite a lot of -it, and I shall soon be sixteen. And then--then I shall have to manage -the money all by myself. And that--that frightens me." - -"Money. Plenty of money," Florence was repeating to herself in the -corner. Strangely enough, at that moment she seemed to see the shining -crystal ball. About the ball, with wings that carried them round and -round in ever widening circles, were bank notes. Ten, twenty, fifty, one -hundred dollar bills, they circled round and round. And, swinging wildly, -clawing at them frantically but never catching one, was a hand, the Tiger -Woman's hand, the hand of Madame Zaran, the crystal-gazer. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - GYPSIES THAT ARE NOT GYPSIES - - -While Florence was having a close look into the mystery of the crystal -ball, the little French girl Petite Jeanne was not idle; in truth, Jeanne -was seldom idle. She was like the sparrow of our city streets, always on -the move. - -Since the artist did not require her services as a model that day, she -considered it her duty to search out the haunts of certain gypsy groups, -and to discover if possible what had happened to the poor widow's four -hundred dollars. - -"Bah! I don't like it!" she exclaimed as she drew on an old gray coat and -crowded a small hat over her gorgeous golden hair. "It is dangerous, this -looking for a thief. But it is exciting too. So there you are! I shall -go." And go she did. - -Since Maxwell Street had been mentioned in connection with the theft, it -was to that street she journeyed. It was a bright winter's day. Wares -that had been dragged indoors during severe weather had been hauled out -again. And such wares as they were! Rags and old iron were offered as -clothing and tools. There were stalls of vile smelling fish, racks of -curious spices, crates of weary looking chickens and turkeys, everything -that one may find in the poor man's market of any great city. Jeanne had -seen it all in Paris, in London, in New York and now in Chicago. Always -she shuddered. Yet always, too, her heart went out to these poor, brave -people who through sunshine and storm, winter's cold and summer's heat -struggled to sell a little of this, a little of that, and so to keep -themselves alive by their own efforts rather than accept charity. - -Out of all this drab scene one figure stood bright and colorful, a -dark-eyed maiden dressed in all the many-hued garments of a gypsy. Jeanne -went straight to her. - -"Want a fortune told?" The girl's eyes gleamed. "Step inside. Read your -palm. Tell your fortune with cards. Perhaps today is not so good." She -looked at Jeanne's purposely drab costume. "Tomorrow may be better--much -better. You shall see. Step right inside." - -Jeanne stepped inside. The place she entered was blue with cigaret smoke. -Idling about the large room, on couches and rugs were a half dozen girls -dressed, as this other one, in bright costumes. At the back of the room -was a booth, inside the booth a small table and a chair. - -Instantly Jeanne found herself ill at ease in these surroundings. She had -seen much of gypsy life, but this--somehow a guardian gnome seemed to -whisper a warning in her ear. - -Turning, she said a few words. She spoke in a strange tongue--the lingo -of her own gypsy people. The girl she addressed stared at her blankly. -Turning about, she repeated the words in a louder tone. Every girl in the -room must have heard. Not one replied. - -"You are not gypsies!" Jeanne exclaimed, stamping her foot. "You do not -know the gypsy language." - -"Not gypsies! Not gypsies!" The swarm of girls were up and screaming like -a flock of angry bluejays. "We _are_ gypsies! We _are_ gypsies!" - -"Well," said Jeanne, backing toward the door, "you don't seem much like -gypsies. You should be able to speak the language--" - -"Paveoe, our mistress, she speaks that silly nonsense!" one of the girls -exclaimed. "Come when she is here and you shall hear it by the hour." - -"And does she run this place?" Jeanne asked. She was now at the door and -breathing more easily. - -"Y-yes," the girl said slowly, "Paveoe is the woman who runs this place." - -"I'll be back." Jeanne opened the door, closed it quietly and was gone. - -"I wonder if this Paveoe is the woman I am looking for," she whispered to -herself. "Perhaps she has the money. Perhaps that is why she is not -here." - -As she crowded through the ragged, jostling and quite merry throng on -Maxwell Street, Jeanne found her heart filled with misgivings. A spirit -of prophecy belonging to gypsy people alone seemed to tell her that this -woman, Paveoe, was bad, that they should meet, and then--. At that point -the spirit of prophecy failed her. - - -Meanwhile, in Frances Ward's office the mystery girl, June Travis, was -saying: - -"No, I do not remember my father--that is, hardly at all. And yet, it -seems so strange I recognized him instantly when I saw him in--in the -crystal ball! And the girl who was with him--it was I." June broke off to -stare out of the window and down at the slow-moving river. - -Florence wanted to say, "Yes, yes, she was in the crystal ball. I saw -her. It could have been no other." She opened her mouth to speak; but no -sound came out. She had recalled that she was there to listen and not to -talk. "But what a story this promises to be!" she thought to herself. -Then, with a sudden start she began taking notes. - -"June Travis. Plenty of money. Much money when she is sixteen," she -wrote. "Money--" her pencil stopped. She had thought of the poor widow -with four hundred dollars and the gypsy fortune tellers. "Wolves," she -thought, "human wolves, they are everywhere." Once again her pencil -glided across the paper. - -"It does seem a little extraordinary." Frances Ward was speaking slowly, -thoughtfully. She was facing June Travis, still smiling. "Strange indeed -that you should see yourself as you were more than ten years ago, and -that you should recognize your father." - -"It was a beautiful room." A look of rapture stole over the girl's face. -"A very beautiful room. Books, a fireplace, everything. Just the sort of -place my father must have had to live in--for he must be rich. If he -wasn't, how could he leave me all that money? - -"And he was to come back." Her tone became eager. "He _will_ come back. -Madame Zaran, that's the crystal-gazer, says she's sure he will come -back. She's told me wonderful things. I am to travel--California, the -Orient, Europe, around the world. - -"But father--" her voice dropped. "She says she can't get through to -father. That will take money, much money. And very soon I shall have much -money. Only--" she shuddered. "Somehow that makes me afraid." - -"Yes." Frances Ward nodded her wise old head. "You must not forget to be -afraid, and to be very, very careful. I should like to meet this -wonderful Madame Zaran." - -"You shall meet her!" the girl exclaimed. "But, Mrs. Ward, you are so -kind! You have helped so many. Can't you help me find my father?" Her -voice rose on a high note of appeal. - -"Yes." Frances Ward spoke with all the gentleness of a mother. "Yes, I -think perhaps I can. But first you must do everything possible for -yourself. Where is your money kept?" - -"In a great bank." - -"Good!" Frances Ward's face lighted. "What do they tell you of your -father?" - -"Nothing." The girl's face fell. "The man my father left the money with -at the bank is dead. The others know that the money is for me and how it -is to be given out." - -"And you live--" - -"At a very fine home for girls, only a few girls, twelve girls, all very -nice." - -"And what does the person in charge tell you of your father?" - -"Nothing--nothing at all. I was brought there by a woman who was not my -mother, a little old gray-haired woman who said I was to be kept there. -She gave them some money. She told them where the other money was. Then -she went away." - -"Strange," Frances Ward murmured softly, "very, very strange. But, my -child!" Her tone changed. "You may be able to be your own best helper. -You were not a baby when your father left you. Under favorable conditions -you might be able to think back, back, back to those days, to recall -perhaps rooms, houses, faces. You might describe them so accurately that -they could be found. And, finding them, we might come upon someone who -knew your father and who knows where he has gone." - -"Oh, if only I could!" The girl clasped and unclasped her hands. "If only -I could!" - -"That," said Mrs. Ward, "may take considerable time, but I feel that it -is a surer and--" she hesitated, "perhaps a safer way than some others -might be. - -"My dear," she laid a hand gently on June's arm, "you will not go to that -place at night?" - -"Oh, no!" June's eyes opened wide. "We are never allowed to go anywhere -after dark unless Mrs. Maver, our matron, is with us." - -"That's good." The frown on the aged woman's face was replaced by a -smile. - -"Florence!" She turned half about in her chair. "You should know June -Travis. I feel sure you might aid her. Perhaps you'd like to take her out -for a cup of something hot. What do young ladies drink? Nothing strong, I -hope." She laughed. - -"Not I!" Florence replied, "I'm always in training." - -"Which every girl should be," Frances Ward replied promptly. - -"My dear," she put out a hand to June, "I have a 'dead-line' to make. You -wouldn't know about that, but it's just a column that must be in the -paper a half hour from now. You will come back, won't you?" - -"Yes, I will," said June. "Thank you. I feel so much better a--about -everything now." - -"That," said Florence as the two girls walked down the corridor, "is -'Everybody's Grandmother.' She's truly wonderful. She knows so much about -everything." - -"And," she added aside to herself, "she knows just how much to say. If -she had told this girl I was engaged in the business of hunting fortune -tellers, that would have spoiled everything. But she didn't. She didn't." - -"Have you visited fortune telling studios before?" she asked the -bright-eyed June as they sipped a hot cup of some strange bitter drink -Florence found in a narrow little hole-in-the-wall place. - -"Oh, yes, often!" The girl's eyes shone. "I'm afraid I've become quite a -fan. And they do tell you such strange things. Honestly," her voice -dropped, "Madame Zaran told me things that happened weeks ago and that -only I knew about--or at least only one or two other girls. - -"But this--" her voice and her face sobered. "This is different. This is -what Polly, one of our girls, would call 'very tremendous.' Think of -seeing yourself and your own father just as you were years and years -ago!" - -"Yes," Florence agreed without hypocrisy, "it _is_ tremendous." - -"But it costs so much!" June sighed. "Don't you tell a soul--" her voice -dropped to a whisper, "I saved and saved from my allowance until I had it -all--two hundred dollars!" - -"Two hundred dollars! Did they charge you that for gazing into the -crystal? Why, they--" - -Florence did not finish. She was trying to think how much those people -would charge for their next revelation when, perhaps, this girl had come -into possession of much money. - -As she looked at the young and slender girl before her, a big-sister -feeling came sweeping over her. "We--" she placed her large, strong hand -over June's slender one, "we're going to stick together, aren't we?" - -"If--if you wish it," the other girl replied hesitatingly. - -"And now--" she rose from her chair. "I must go. There's a wonderful -woman on the south side. Everyone says she's marvelous. She's a fortune -teller too, a voodoo priestess, black, you know." - -"From Africa?" - -"No. Haiti. She tells such marvelous fortunes. Her name is Marianna -Christophe. She's a descendant of a black emperor. And she has a black -goat with golden horns." - -"Perhaps," Florence laughed, "she borrowed the goat from the gypsy girl -in a book I once read. What's the address? I must have her tell my -fortune." - -"It's 3528 Duncan Street. I wish--" the girl hesitated. "I wish you were -going now." She shuddered a little. "She's black, a voodoo priestess. She -has a black goat with golden horns. I'm always a little scared of black -things." - -"Say!" Florence exclaimed, seized by a sudden inspiration, "why don't you -wait until tomorrow, then I can go with you to see this voodoo -priestess?" - -"I--I'd love it." The girl's face brightened. - -"She's beautiful, this June Travis," Florence told herself, "beautiful in -a peculiar way, fluffy hair that is not quite red, a round face and -deeply dimpled cheeks. Who could fail to love her and want to protect -her?" - -"Let me see," she said, speaking half to the girl, half to herself, "No, -I can't go tomorrow. How will the day after do?" - -"That will be fine." - -"You'll meet me here at this same hour?" - -"Yes." - -"Fine. Then I'll be going." Florence held out a hand. "Goodbye and good -luck. I have a feeling," she added as a sort of afterthought, "that we -are going to do a lot of exploring together, you and I." - -As she hurried toward Sandy's glass box Florence repeated, "An awful -lot." At that, she had not the faintest notion what a truly awful lot -that would be. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - THE BRIGHT SHAWL - - -When Jeanne left that place of many gypsies who were not gypsies, she -quickly lost herself in the throng that ever jams the narrow sidewalks on -Maxwell Street. She was glad, for the moment, to be away from that place. -It somehow frightened her. But she would go back; this she knew. When one -is looking for a certain person, one looks into many faces, to at last -exclaim, "This is the one!" Jeanne was looking for a certain thieving -gypsy woman. She must look into many gypsy faces. - -But now, pushed this way, then that by the throng, she listened with deaf -ears, as she had often done before, to the many strange cries and -entreaties about her. "Lady, buy this! Buy this and wear diamonds." "Shoe -strings, five cents a dozen! Shoe strings!" "Nize ripe bananas!" "Here, -lady, look! Look! A fine coat with Persian lamb collar, only seventeen -dollars!" The cries increased as she passed through the thick of it. Then -they began to quiet down. - -As she looked ahead, Jeanne spied a crowd thicker than all the rest. It -centered about a rough board stand. Since she was a small child Jeanne -had been unable to resist crowds. She pressed forward until she was in -the thick of this one. - -Just then a man mounted to the platform, took up a microphone and began -to speak. His voice carried far. - -"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "there is to be conducted on this -platform a dancing contest. It is open to gypsy dancing girls only. Let -me repeat, gypsy dancing girls." - -Gypsy dancing girls! Jeanne's heart bounded. It had been a long time -since she danced in public. But always, as long as she could remember, -she had danced. By the roadsides of France, on the streets of gay Paris, -in the Paris Opera, in light opera in America she had danced her way, -almost to fame. - -"And now to think of dancing on _this_ street, before this crowd! Why -should I think of it?" Yet she had thought of it, and the thought would -not quiet down. Once a gypsy, always a gypsy. Once a dancer, always a -dancer. And yet--she would wait. - -"Where are the gypsy dancers?" Jeanne asked a slender girl in a bright -shawl who was packed in close beside her. - -There were gypsy dancers enough, Jeanne saw this at once. They came on, -one at a time. A four-piece orchestra played for them. Some were bright -and well-dressed, some ragged and sad. Some brought their own music and -flashed their tambourines in wild abandon. Some danced to the music that -was offered and did very badly indeed. "None," Jeanne thought, "are very -good. And yet--" - -Of a sudden she began to wonder what the purpose of it all might be. Then -she caught the gleam of a movie camera lens half-hidden behind an awning. -"They'll be in the movies," she thought. This did not thrill her. To be -in movies of this sort, she knew too well, was no great honor. - -And yet, as she stood there listening to the mad rhythm of saxophone, -violin, oboe and trap-drums, her feet would not stand still. It was -provoking. She wished she might move away, but could not. She seemed to -have lost her will power. - -Then she once more became conscious of the slender girl in the bright -shawl. - -"The prize is twenty-five dollars," the girl was saying in a low tone. -"How grand to have that much money all at one time!" - -Jeanne stared at her with fresh interest. As she made some manner of -reply, she found herself, without willing it, dropping into the curious -lingo that is gypsy speech. To her surprise, she heard the girl answer in -that same lingo. - -"So you are a gypsy," she said. "And you dance." She could see the -child's slim body sway to the rhythm of the music. "Why do you not try -for the prize?" - -"I would love to," the girl murmured. "God knows we need the money! And I -could beat them, beat them blind, if only--" - -"If only what?" Jeanne breathed. - -"If only I did not have a bad knee. But now, for me to dance is -impossible." - -At that moment Jeanne became conscious of a coarse-featured, dark-faced -woman who was pushing forward a young girl. She recognized the girl on -the instant. She was one of those girls who, but half an hour before, had -insisted they were gypsies, but who could not speak the gypsy language. - -"Yes," the woman was saying, "yes, she can dance, and she is a gypsy. Try -her. You shall see. She dances better than these. Bah!" She scowled. -"Much better than these." - -"I do not believe she is a gypsy," Jeanne whispered to the girl beside -her. - -"She is not a gypsy," the lame girl said soberly. "But if we tell--ah, -then, look out! She is a bad one, that black-faced woman." - -"So we shall be very wise and keep silent." Jeanne pressed the girl's -arm. How slender it was! Jeanne's heart reproached her. She could win -that dance contest in this girl's stead. And yet, she still held back. - -The girl, pushed forward by the dark-faced woman, was now on the -platform. She danced, Jeanne was forced to admit, very well, much better -indeed than any of the others. The crowd saw and applauded. - -"She is a good dancer," Jeanne thought, "very good. And yet she is -sailing under false colors. She is not a gypsy. Still," she wondered, "am -I right? Do all American gypsies know the gypsy tongue?" She could not -tell. And still, her feet were moving restlessly. Not she, but her feet -wished to dance. - -And then, with the suddenness of the sun escaping from a cloud, came -great joy to Jeanne. A powerful arm encircled her waist and a gruff voice -said: - -"_Tiens!_ It is my Jeanne!" - -It was Bihari, Bihari, Jeanne's gypsy step-father! She had supposed him -to be in France. - -"Bihari!" she cried, enraptured. "You here?" - -"Yes, my child." - -"But why?" - -"Does it matter now?" Bihari's tone was full of serious joy. "All that -matters now is that you must dance. You are a gypsy. We are all gypsies, -all but that one, the one who, without your dancing, will win. She is an -impostor. She is no gypsy. This I know. Come, my Jeanne! You must dance!" - -"Here!" Jeanne sprang forward, at the same time dragging the bright shawl -from the slender girl's shoulders. "Here! I, too, am a gypsy! I, too, -will dance." - -"She a gypsy?" The dark-faced one's cheeks purpled with anger. "She is no -gypsy! Did I not this moment see her drag the shawl from this girl's -shoulders?" She lifted a heavy hand as if to strike the little French -girl. That instant a hand that was like a vice closed upon her uplifted -arm. - -"Put that arm down or I will break it off at the elbow!" It was the -powerful Bihari. - -The woman's cheek blanched. Her hand dropped. She shrank back into the -crowd. - -"She _is_ a gypsy," Bihari said quietly to the man on the platform. "I am -her step-father. She traveled in my caravan. I will vouch for her. And -she can dance--you shall see." - -Perhaps Bihari, the gypsy smithy, was not unknown to the man on the -stand. At any rate, Jeanne had her chance. - -She had not forgotten her own bright gypsy shawl of days gone by, nor the -prizes she had won while it waved and waved about her slim figure. Now, -in this fantastic setting, it all came back to her. - -Once again, as she stood there motionless, awaiting the first haunting -wail of the violin, she felt herself float and glide like a cloud over -the dewy grass of some village square in France; once again heard the -wild applause as her bright shawl waved before a sea of up-turned faces -in the Paris Opera. - -"And I am not doing this for myself, but for that poor child with the -lame knee," she thought as her lips moved in a sort of prayer. - -It is safe to say that Maxwell Street will not soon again see such -dancing as was done on that rough platform in the moments that followed. -Jeanne's step was light, fairy-like, joyous. Now, as she sailed through -space, she seemed some bird of bright plumage. Now, as she floated out -from her bright shawl, as she spun round and round, she seemed more a -spirit than a living thing. And now, for ten full seconds, she stood, a -bright creature, gloriously human. - -Seizing a tambourine that lay at the drummer's feet, she struck it with -her hand, shook it until it began to sing, then tossing it high, set it -spinning first on a finger, then upon the top of her golden head. And all -this time she swayed and swung, leaped and spun in time with the rhythmic -music. - -When at last, quite out of breath, she sprang high to clear the platform -and land squarely in the stout arms of Bihari who, holding her still -aloft, shouted, "_Viva La Petite Jeanne!_ Long live the little French -girl!" the crowd went mad. - -Was there any question regarding the winner of the dance contest? None at -all. When the tumult had subsided, without a word the man on the platform -tossed the sheaf of bills straight into Jeanne's waiting hands. - -"Here!" Jeanne whispered hoarsely to the frail girl whose shawl she had -borrowed, "Take this and hide it deep, close to your heart!" She crowded -the prize money into the astonished girl's hand. Then, as the crowd began -surging in, she threw the bright shawl to its place on the girl's -shoulders. - -"Tha--thanks for trusting the prize with me." The girl smiled. - -"Trusting you!" Jeanne exclaimed low. "It's yours, all yours! Take it to -your mother." - -"You can't mean it! All--all that?" Tears sprang to the girl's eyes. - -"I do," Jeanne replied hurriedly. "This is the spirit of the road. We are -gypsies, you and I. Today I have a little. Tomorrow I shall be poor and -someone shall help me. This is life." - -Next instant the crowd had carried Jeanne away. But close by her side was -Bihari. - -As the crowd thinned a little Jeanne caught sight of a forbidding face -close at hand. It was the woman who, a few moments before, had believed -her own dancer to be the winner. Stepping close, she hissed a dozen words -in Jeanne's ear. The words were spoken in the language of the gypsies. -Only Jeanne understood. Though her face blanched, she said never a word -in reply. - -"Bihari," she said ten minutes later as they sat on stools drinking cups -of black tea and munching small meat pies, "do you remember that dark -woman?" - -"Yes, my Jeanne." - -"She is a bad one. I wonder if she could be our thief who stole the poor -widow's four hundred dollars?" - -"Who knows, my Jeanne? Who knows? I too have read of that in the paper. I -too have been ashamed for all gypsies. We must find her. She must be -punished." - -"Yes," said Jeanne, "we must find her." Then in a few words she told of -her own part in that search. - -"As ever," said Bihari, "I shall be your helper." - -"But you, Bihari," Jeanne asked, "why are you not in our most beautiful -France?" - -"Ah!" Bihari sighed, "France is indeed beautiful, but she is very poor. -In America, as ever, there is opportunity. Right here on Maxwell Street, -where there is much noise and many smells, I have my shop. I mend pots -and pans, yes, and automobiles too, for people who are as poor as I. So -we get on very well." He laughed a merry laugh. - -"And because I am here," he added, "I can help you all the more." - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - A VISION FOR ANOTHER - - -That same afternoon Florence met Sandy at the door of his glass box. -"Are--are you leaving?" she asked in sudden consternation. "I didn't get -my story in." - -"Oh, that's O. K." Sandy, who was small, young, red-haired and freckled, -threw back his head and laughed. "I did it for you. It's gone to press. -Remember that psychoanalyst who wears some sort of a towel wrapped round -his head and claims he is a Prince of India?" - -"Oh, yes. He was funny--truly funny. And he wanted to hold my hand." -Florence showed her two large dimples in a smile. - -"Yes. Well, I did him for you. So! Come on downstairs for a cup of -coffee." - -"Sure." Florence grinned. She was not on a diet and she was ready for -just one more cup of coffee any time. Besides, she wanted to tell Sandy -about her latest finds, Madame Zaran, June Travis, and the crystal ball. - -"It's the strangest thing," she was saying fifteen minutes later as, -seated in a remote corner of the cafeteria maintained for employees only, -she looked at Sandy over a steaming cup of coffee. "I gazed into the -crystal and, almost at once, I began seeing things!" - -"What did you see?" There was a questioning look on Sandy's freckled -face. - -"Trees, evergreen trees." Florence's eyes became dreamy. "Trees and dark -waters, rocks--the wildest sort of place in the great out-of-doors." - -"And then?" - -"And then it all changed. I saw the same trees, rocks and waters covered -with ice and snow." - -"That surely _is_ strange!" The look on Sandy's face changed. "You must -have been seeing things for me." - -"For you?" The girl's eyes opened wide. - -"Absolutely." Sandy grinned. "You see, they're trapping moose on Isle -Royale, and--" - -"Isle Royale!" Florence exclaimed. "I've been there, spent a whole summer -there. It's marvelous!" - -"Tell me about it." Sandy leaned forward eagerly. - -"Oh--" Florence closed her eyes for a space of seconds. "It--why it's -wild and beautiful. It's a big island, forty miles long. It's all rocks -and forest primeval. No timber has ever been cut there. And there are -narrow bays running back two miles where, early in summer, marvelous big -lake trout lurk. You put a spoon hook on your line and go trolling. You -just row and row. You gaze at the glorious green of birch and balsam, -spruce and fir; you watch the fleecy clouds, you feel the lift and fall -of your small boat, and think how wonderful it is just to live, when -Zing! something sets your reel spinning. Is it a rock? You grab your pole -and begin reeling in. No! It moves, it wobbles. It is a fish. - -"Ten yards, twenty, thirty, forty you reel in. There he is! What a -beauty--a ten pounder. You play him, let out line, reel in, let out, reel -in. Then you whisper, 'Now!' You reel in fast, you reach out and up, and -there he is thrashing about in the bottom of your boat. Oh, Sandy! You'll -love it! Wish I could go. Next summer are you going?" - -"Next week, most likely." - -"Next week! Why, it's all frozen over. There are no boats going there -now." - -"No boats, but we'll take a plane, land on skiis. You see," Sandy -explained, "our nature editor has gone south. Now this moose-trapping -business has come up and our paper wants a story. The thing has been -dumped in my lap. I'll probably have to go." - -"Oh!" The big girl's face was a study. She loved the wide out-of-doors -and all wild, free places. Isle Royale must be glorious in winter. "Wish -I could go along! But I--I can't." - -"Why not?" Sandy asked. - -"I've got this girl, June Travis, on my hands. And, unless something is -done, I'm afraid it will turn out badly." - -"June Travis?" Sandy stared. - -"Yes. Didn't I tell you? But of course not. It's the strangest, most -fantastic thing! I should have told you that first, but of course, like -everyone else, I was most interested in my own poor little experience." - -"Tell me about it." - -Florence did tell him. She told the story well, about June gazing into -the crystal ball, the moving figures in that ball, June's fortune which -she was soon to possess, the voodoo priestess and all the rest. She told -it so well that Sandy's second cup of coffee got cold during the telling. - -"I say!" Sandy exclaimed. "You _have_ got something on your hands. Look -out, big girl! They may turn out too many for you. My opinion is that all -fortune tellers are fakes, and that the biggest of them are crooked and -dangerous, so watch your step." - -"Oh, I know my way around this little town," Florence laughed. "And now -allow me to get you a fresh cup of coffee." - -"Sandy," Florence said a moment later, "the little French girl, Petite -Jeanne, was with me on Isle Royale. She'd like to hear all about your -proposed trip to the island. We may be able to think up some facts that -will be a real help to you. Why don't you come over to our studio for -dinner tomorrow night? I'm sure Miss Mabee would be delighted to have -you." - -"All right, I'll be there. How about your gypsy girl friend preparing a -chicken for us, one she has caught behind her van, on the broad highway?" - -"Her van has vanished, much to her regret," Florence laughed. "We'll have -the chicken all the same." - -"And about this story of the crystal ball," Sandy asked as they prepared -to leave the cafeteria. "Shall I run that tomorrow?" - -"Oh, no!" Florence exclaimed in alarm. "Not yet. I want to dig deeply -into that. I--I'm hoping I may find something truly magical there." - -"Well, don't hope too much!" Sandy dashed away to make one more -"dead-line." - - -That had been an exciting day for the little French girl. After she had -crept beneath the covers in her studio chamber at ten o'clock that night, -she could not sleep. When she closed her eyes she saw a thousand faces. -Old, wrinkled faces, pinched young faces and the half greedy, half -hopeless faces of the middle-aged. All that Maxwell Street had been as -she danced so madly for the prize that meant so little to her and so much -to another. - -"Life," she whispered to herself, "is so very queer! Why must we always -be thinking of others? Life should not be like that. We should be free to -seek happiness for ourselves alone. Happiness! Happiness!" she repeated -the word softly. "Why should not happiness be our only aim in life? To -sing like the nightingale, to dart about like a humming-bird, to dance -wild and free like the fairies. Ah, this should be life!" - -Still she could not sleep. It was often so. It was as if life were too -thrilling, too joyous and charming to be spent in senseless sleep. - -Slipping from her bed, she drew on heavy skating socks and slippers, -wrapped herself in a heavy woolen dressing gown; then slipping silently -out of her room, felt about in the half darkness of the studio until she -found the rounds of an iron ladder. Then she began to climb. She had not -climbed far when she came to a small trap door. This she lifted. Having -taken two more steps up, she paused to stare about her. Her gaze swept -the surface of a broad flat roof, their roof. - -"Twelve o'clock, and all's well," she whispered with a low laugh. The -roof was silent as a tomb. She stepped out upon the roof, then allowed -the trap door to drop without a sound into its place. She was now at the -top of her own little world. - -And what a world on such a night! Above her, like blue diamonds, the -stars shone. Hanging low over the distant dark waters of the lake, the -moon lay at the end of a path of gold. - -Here, there, everywhere, lights shone from thousands of windows. How -different were the scenes behind those windows! There were windows of -homes, of offices, of hospitals and jails. Each hid a story of life. - -So absorbed was the little French girl in all these things as she sat -there in the shadow of a chimney, she did not note that a trap door a -hundred feet away had lifted silently, allowed a dark figure to pass, -then as silently closed. Had she noted this she must surely have thought -the person some robber escaping with his booty. She would, beyond doubt, -have fled to her own trap door and vanished. - -Since she did not see the intruder upon her reveries, she continued to -drink in the crisp fresh air of night and to sit musing over the -strangeness of life. - -Some moments later she was startled by one long-drawn musical note, it -seemed to have come from a violin, and that not far away. Before she -could cry out or flee, there came to her startled ears, played -exquisitely on a violin, the melodious notes of _O Sole Mio_. - -To her vexation and terror, at that moment the moon passed behind a cloud -and all the roof was dark. Still the music did not cease. - -Awed by the strangeness of it all, captivated by that marvelous music -played in a place so strange, Jeanne sat as one entranced until the last -note had died away. - -"There, my pretty ones!" said a voice with startling distinctness, "how -do you like that? Not so bad, eh?" - -There was something of a reply. It was, however, too indistinct to be -understood. - -"Could anything be stranger?" Jeanne asked herself. She knew that the -voice was that of a young man, or perhaps a boy. She felt that perhaps -she should proceed to vanish. - -"But how can I?" she whispered, "and leave all this mystery unsolved?" - -Oddly enough, the very next tune chosen by the musician was one of those -wild, rocketing gypsy dance tunes that Jeanne had ever found -irresistible. - -Before she knew what she was about, she went gliding like some wild -bewitching sprite across the flat surface of the roof. She was in the -very midst of that dance, leaping high and swinging wide as only she -could do, when with a suddenness that was appalling, the music ceased. - -An ominous silence followed. Out of that silence came a small voice. - -"Wha--where did you come from?" - -"Ple--oh, please go on!" Jeanne entreated. "You wouldn't dash a beautiful -vase on the floor; you would not strangle a canary; you would not step -upon a rose. You must not crush a beautiful dance in pieces!" - -"But, ah--" - -"Please!" Jeanne was not looking at the musician. - -With a squeak and a scratch or two, the music began once more. This time -the dance was played perfectly to its end. - -"Now!" breathed Jeanne as she sank down upon a stone parapet. "I ask you, -where did _you_ come from--the moon, or just one of the stars?" She was -staring at a handsome dark-eyed boy in his late teens. A violin was -tucked under his arm. - -"Neither," he answered shyly. "Up from a hole in the roof." - -"But why are you playing here?" Jeanne demanded. - -"I came--" there was a low chuckle. "I came here so I could play for the -pigeons who roost under the tank there. They like it, I'm sure. Did you -hear them cooing?" - -"Yes. But why--" Jeanne hesitated, bewildered. "Why for the pigeons? You -play divinely!" - -"Thanks." He made a low bow. "I play well enough, I suppose. So do a -thousand others. That's the trouble. There is not room for us all, so I -must take to the house-tops." - -"But how do you live?" Jeanne did not mean to go on, yet she could not -stop. - -"I play twice a week in a--a place where people eat, and--and drink." - -"Is it a nice place?" - -"Not too nice, but it is a nice five dollars a week they pay me. One may -eat and have his collars done for five a week. The janitor of this -building lets me have a cubbyhole under the roof, and so--" he laughed -again. "I am handy to the pigeons. They appreciate my music, I am sure of -it." - -"Don't!" Jeanne sprang up and stamped a foot. "Don't joke about art. -It--it's not nice!" - -"Oh!" the boy breathed, "I'm sorry." - -"What's your name?" Jeanne demanded. - -The boy murmured something that sounded like "Tomorrow." - -"No!" Jeanne spoke more distinctly. "I said, what's your name?" - -The boy too spoke more distinctly. Still the thing he said was to Jeanne -simply "Tomorrow." - -"I don't know," she exclaimed almost angrily, "whether it is today still, -or whether we have got into tomorrow. My watch is in my room. What I'd -like to know is, what do your parents call you?" - -"Tomorrow," the boy repeated, or so it sounded to Jeanne. - -Then he laughed a merry laugh. "I'll spell it for you. T-U-M, Tum. That's -my first name. And the second is Morrow. I defy you to say it fast -without making it 'tomorrow'! - -"And that," he sighed, "is a very good name for me! It is always tomorrow -that good things are to happen. Then they never do." - -"Tum Morrow," said Jeanne, "tomorrow at three will you have tea with me?" - -"I surely will tomorrow," said Tum Morrow, "but where do I come?" - -"Follow me with your eye until I vanish." Jeanne rose. "Tomorrow lift -that same trap door, climb down the ladder, then look straight ahead and -down. You will probably be looking at me in a very beautiful studio." - -"Tomorrow," said Tum Morrow, "I'll be there." - -"And tomorrow, Tum Morrow, may be your lucky day," Jeanne laughed as she -went dancing away. - -Tomorrow came. So did Tum Morrow. Jeanne did not forget her appointment. -She saw to it that water was hot for tea. She prepared a heaping plate of -the most delicious sandwiches. Great heaps of nut meats, a bottle of -salad-dressing and half a chicken went into their making. - -"Tea!" Florence exclaimed. "That will be a feast!" - -"And why not?" Jeanne demanded. "One who eats on five dollars a week and -keeps his collars clean in the bargain deserves a feast!" - -The moods of the great artist were not, however, governed by afternoon -appointments to tea. When Tum Morrow, having followed Jeanne's -instructions, found himself upon the studio balcony, he did not speak, -but sat quietly down upon the top step of the stair to wait, for there in -the center of the large studio, poised on a narrow, raised stand, was -Jeanne. - -Garbed in high red boots, short socks, skirts of mixed and gorgeous hues -and a meager waist, wide open at the front, she stood with a bright -tambourine held aloft, poised for a gypsy dancer. - -To the right of her, working furiously, dashing a touch of color here, -another there, stepping back for a look, then leaping at her canvas -again, was the painter, Marie Mabee. - -Evidently Tum Morrow had seen nothing like this before, for he sat there, -mouth wide open, staring. At that moment, so far as he was concerned, -tomorrow might at any moment become today. He would never have known the -difference. - -When at last Marie Mabee thrust her brushes, handles down, in the top of -a jug and said, "There!" Tum Morrow heaved such a prodigious sigh that -the artist started, whirled about, stared for an instant, then demanded, -"Where did you come from?" - -Before the startled boy could find breath for reply, she exclaimed, "Oh, -yes! I remember. Jeanne told me! Come right down! She has a feast all -prepared for you." - -She extended both hands as he reached the foot of the stairs. Tum took -the hands. His eyes were only for Jeanne. - -It was a jolly tea they had, Jeanne, the artist, and Tum. Tum's shyness -at being in the presence of a great personage gradually passed away. -Quite frankly at last he told his story. His music had been the gift of -his mother. A talented woman, she had taught him from the age of three. -When she could go no farther, she had employed a great teacher to help -him. - -"They called me a prodigy." He sighed. "I never liked that very much. I -played at women's clubs and all sorts of luncheons and all the ladies -clapped their hands. Some of the ladies had kind faces--some of them," he -repeated slowly. "I played only for those who had kind faces." - -"But now," he ended rather abruptly, "my teacher is gone. My mother is -gone. I am no longer a prodigy, nor am I a grown musician, so--" - -"So you play for the pigeons on the roof!" Jeanne laughed a trifle -uncertainly. - -"And for angels," Tum replied, looking straight into her eyes. Jeanne -flushed. - -"What does he mean?" Miss Mabee asked, puzzled. - -"That angels come down from the sky at night," Jeanne replied teasingly. - -"But Miss Mabee," she demanded, "what does one do between the time he is -a prodigy and when he is a man?" - -"Oh, I--I don't know." Miss Mabee stirred her tea thoughtfully. "He just -does the best he can, gets around among people and hopes something will -happen. And, bye and bye, something does happen. Then all is lovely. - -"Excuse me!" She sprang to her feet. "There's the phone." - -"But you?" said Tum, "you, Miss Jeanne, are a famous dancer--you must -be." - -"No." Jeanne was smiling. "I am only a dancing gypsy. Once, it is true, I -danced a light opera. And once, just once--" her eyes shone. "Once I -danced in that beautiful Opera House down by the river. That Opera House -is closed now. What a pity! I danced in the _Juggler of Notre Dame_. And -the people applauded. Oh, how they did applaud! - -"But a gypsy--" her voice dropped. "With a gypsy it is different. Nothing -wonderful lasts with a gypsy. So now--" she laughed a little, low laugh. -"Now I'm just a wild dancing bumble bee with invisible wings on my feet." - -"Are you?" The boy's eyes shone with a sudden light. "Do you know this?" -Taking up his violin, he began to play. - -"What is it?" she demanded, enraptured. - -"They call it 'Flight of the Bumble Bee.'" - -"Play it again." - -Tum played it again. Jeanne sat entranced. - -"_Encore!_" she exclaimed. - -Then, snatching up a thin gauzy shawl of iridescent silk, she went -leaping and whirling, flying across the room. - -In the meantime, Miss Mabee, who had returned, stood in a corner -fascinated. - -And it was truly worthy of her admiration. As a dancer, when the mood -seized her Jeanne could be a spark, a flame, a gaudy, darting -humming-bird, and now indeed she was a bee with invisible wings on her -feet. - -"That," exclaimed the artist, "is a tiny masterpiece of music and -dancing! It must be preserved. Others must know of it. We shall find a -time and place. You shall see, my children." - -Jeanne flushed with pleasure. Tum was silent, but deep in both their -hearts was the conviction that this was one of the truly large moments of -their lives. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - JEANNE PLANS AN ADVENTURE - - -The dinner served in Sandy's honor at the artist's studio was an occasion -long to be remembered. Jeanne had chanced to speak of her gypsy -step-father, Bihari. - -"And is he now in America?" Miss Mabee asked with sudden interest. - -"Yes. In Chicago!" Jeanne replied joyously. - -"Then we must have him at our party tonight. Perhaps I might like to -paint his picture." - -"Oh, you are sure to!" Jeanne cried. "There is no one in the world like -Bihari." - -So Bihari was sent for. Tum Morrow too had been invited and, to help the -affair along, had volunteered to bring three boon companions, all -destitute musicians, and all glad to provide music in exchange for -Jeanne's gypsy-style chicken dinner. - -When the hour arrived all were there; so too were the great steaming -platters of chicken with dumplings and gravy. And such a feast as that -was! Bihari had persuaded two good cooks of his own race to prepare the -feast. And, because of their love for Bihari and Jeanne, they had spared -neither time nor labor. - -"That," said Sandy, as at last the final toast of delicious fruit juice -had been drunk, "is the finest feast I have ever known." - -"And now," he said to Jeanne, "tell us about this magic isle I am to -visit, this Isle Royale." - -"You?" Jeanne looked at him in surprise. "You are going to Isle Royale? -In winter?" - -"Yes. In an airplane." - -"In an airplane?" The look of surprise and longing on Jeanne's face was a -wonderful thing to behold. Her own Dragonfly was stored away, but never -would she forget those golden days when she had gone gliding through the -air. Nor would she forget the glorious days she had spent on the shores -of the "Magic Isle." - -"You are going to Isle Royale in an airplane," she repeated slowly. "Then -I shall tell you all about it--but on one condition!" - -"Name it." Sandy smiled. - -"That you take me with you." - -A little cry of surprise ran round the room. For a space of seconds Sandy -was silent. Then, with a look of sudden decision on his face, he said, -"It's a go!" - -"And now, Jeanne," Miss Mabee arose, "when our good friend Tum has put -another log on the fire and we have all drawn up our chairs, suppose you -tell us all about this very wonderful isle." - -So there, with the lights turned out, with the glow of the fire playing -over her bewitching face, Jeanne told them of Isle Royale. She spoke of -the deep, dark waters where lake trout gleam like silver; of the rocky -shore where at times the waters of old Lake Superior come thundering in, -and of the little lakes that lay gleaming among the dark green forests. - -She told of wild moose that come down to the shores at sunset to dip -their noses in the bluest of waters, then to lift their antlers high and -send a challenge echoing away across the ridges. She told of the bush -wolves who answered that challenge, then of the slow settling down of -night that turned this whole little world to a pitchy black. - -"And then," she whispered, "the moon comes rolling like a golden chariot -wheel over the ridge to paint a path of gold across those black waters. -And you, not to be outdone by a mere moon, touch a match to your campfire -and it blazes high to meet the stars. - -"That," she exclaimed, springing to her feet and executing a wild dance -before the fire, "that is summer! What must it be in winter? All those -tall spruce trees decorated with snow, all those little lakes gleaming -like mirrors. And tracks through the snow--tracks of moose, bush wolves, -lynx and beaver, mysterious tracks that wind on and on over the ridge. To -think," she cried, "we are to see all this! - -"But Sandy!" Her mood changed. "You said they were trapping moose. Why -should they trap any wild thing? That--why that's like trapping a gypsy!" - -"Some gypsies should be trapped." Sandy laughed, seizing her hand -teasingly. "But as for the moose of Isle Royale, they have become too -numerous for the island. They are trapping them and taming them a little. -In the spring they are to be taken to game sanctuaries on the mainland -where there is an abundance of food. But look!" he exclaimed. "We are -taking up all the time raving about this island. What about our -musicians? Let's have a tune." - -His words were greeted with hand-clapping. Tum Morrow and his companions -tuned up and for the next half hour the studio walls echoed to many a -melody. Some were of today, modern and rhythmical, and some of yesterday -with all their tuneful old melodies. - -During this musical interlude Florence, seated in a dark corner, gave -herself over to reflections concerning the amusing, mysterious and -sometimes threatening events of the days just past. - -"It is all so strange, so intriguing, so rather terrible!" she was -thinking to herself. "This Madame Zaran, is she truly a genius at crystal -gazing? How could she fail to be? Did I not, myself, see a vision in the -crystal ball? And that girl June, who could doubt but that she saw -herself as she was when a child, with her father? And yet--" the whole -affair was terribly disturbing. They had compelled the girl, a mere -child, to pay two hundred dollars for this vision. How much for the next? -They had promised to reveal her father's whereabouts, tell her when he -would return. Could they do that? "Ten years!" she whispered. "One is -tempted to believe him dead. And yet--" - -Then there was the voodoo priestess, she with the black goat. They were -to visit her on the morrow. "And I have an appointment with Madame Zaran -too. A busy day!" - -She thought, with a new feeling of alarm, of Jeanne's experience on that -day. "Wish I hadn't told her of that thieving gypsy fortune teller. Get -her into no end of trouble. Dangerous, those gypsies!" Then, at a sudden -remembrance, she smiled. It was good that Jeanne had won the dancing -contest; good, too, that she had helped that gypsy child of the bright -shawl. Jeanne had "cast bread upon the waters." It would return. - -Then of a sudden as the music stopped, she gave a start. Before her eyes -there appeared to float a shadow, a curiously frightening shadow. It was -the shadow of a face she had seen on the midnight blue of Madame Zaran's -studio, a face that had somehow reminded her of Satan. "My dear old aunt -used to say Satan had a hand in all fortune telling," she whispered. But -then, aunts were almost always old-fashioned and sometimes a little -foolish. - -Now the music played so well by Tum Morrow and his companions came to an -end. There was instant applause, and Florence was wakened from her -disturbing day dream. - -"Can you play one of Liszt's rhapsodies?" Miss Mabee asked. - -"I'm sorry," Tum said regretfully, "I have never studied them." - -"But yes!" Bihari, the gypsy blacksmith, sprang up. "Let me show you! The -best one it goes like this. Every gypsy knows it." - -Taking the violin from Tum Morrow's hand, he began drawing forth a -teasing, bewitching melody. "Come!" he exclaimed, nodding his head at the -other musicians. "You know this one. Surely you must!" - -They did. Soon piano, cello, clarinet and violin were doing full justice -to this glorious gypsy music written down for the world by a master -composer. - -A perfect silence fell over the room. When the violin dropped to a -whisper and was heard alone, there was not another sound. - -As for Jeanne, while Bihari played she was far, far away beside a hedge -where the grass was green and the midnight blue of the sky was sprinkled -with golden stars. Again, with her fellow wanderers she breathed the -sweet free air of night, listened to the call of the whippoorwill and the -wail of the violin. - -"Wonderful!" Miss Mabee exclaimed as the music ended. "You almost make me -want to be a gypsy. And Bihari, you shall make me famous. I shall paint -your picture. You shall be seated on your anvil, playing Liszt's rhapsody -to a group of ragged children. In the background shall be a dozen poorly -clad women holding their pots and pans to be mended, but all carried away -by that glorious music. Ah, what a picture! Shall I have it?" - -"If you wish it," Bihari replied humbly. - -"Tomorrow?" - -"If you wish." - -"Done!" the artist exclaimed. "And all the ones with ragged shawls and -leaky pans shall be well paid. - -"And now, Tum, my dear boy," she turned to the boy musician. "You give us -a goodnight lullaby, and we shall be off to pleasant dreams." - - -A half hour later Miss Mabee and Florence sat before the fire. Florence -had just told of her experience as a crystal-gazer. - -"You were day-dreaming, my dear," Miss Mabee laughed lightly. "Had you -been looking dreamily at a spot of light or a blank wall, you would have -seen the same thing. You are fond of the wide out-of-doors and our bits -of American wilderness. Day-dreaming is our most wonderful indoor sport. -Were it not for our day-dreams, there are many who would go quite mad in -these troublous times. But when life is too hard, off we drift on our -magic carpet of dreams, and all is well." - - - - - CHAPTER X - A VOODOO PRIESTESS - - -When Florence and June Travis arrived at the home of Marianna Christophe, -the voodoo priestess, next afternoon, they met with a surprise. The -surprise was not in the building--it was unpretentious enough, a long, -low building with a pink front. The surprise came when they found several -large and shiny automobiles parked along the curb before the door. - -"Our visit is off," Florence sighed. "Must be a funeral or something." - -"But I have an appointment at four o'clock!" June protested. - -"Oh, well, we'll see." Florence lifted an ancient brass knocker and let -it fall. - -Instantly the door flew open and a brownish young lady with white and -rolling eyes peered out. - -"I have an appointment," June Travis said timidly. - -"I'll look." The brown one vanished, to return almost at once. - -"Yass'm! Jest step right in!" She bowed low. "The priestess will see you, -'zactly at four." - -The reception room which the girls entered was large. Along one side was -a row of comfortable chairs. All but two of the chairs were filled. If -one were to judge by their rich attire, these people were the owners of -the cars parked outside. They were all women. One was old and one quite -young. The others, four in all, were middle-aged. - -"She's marvelous!" one of the waiting ones said in a half whisper. "The -first time I saw her she told me I had a boy who was not yet sixteen and -who was more than six feet tall. She said I had been married twice, but -that I have no husband now. She said my principal jewels were a necklace -of pearls coming down from my grandmother, a diamond bracelet and three -diamond rings. All of this is exactly right. And think of it! She had -never seen me before! I had not so much as given her my name. Wasn't that -most astonishing?" - -Florence listened in vast surprise. This woman was speaking, beyond -doubt, of the voodoo priestess. Could she indeed tell you all about -yourself, your innermost secrets? She shuddered. Who could want any -stranger to know all that? She looked at June. She, too, had heard. Her -face was all alight. "All these people believe in her," she whispered. -"They are much older than I, and must be wiser, and they are rich. Surely -she will tell me where my father is, and when he will come back. It--it's -so very little to ask." There was an appealing note in the girl's low -voice that went straight to Florence's heart. - -"I have ten dollars left," June whispered. "Next week I'll have a little -more, and soon a very great deal." - -"Yes," Florence thought, "and therein lies your great peril! In such -times as these much money is a menace to any innocent and unprotected -person. We must find her father, we must indeed! But how? There's the -trouble." - -Her thoughts were broken in upon by the brown girl of the rolling eyes. -"The priestess will see you all now," she whispered. - -"June," Florence asked in a low tone, "have you been here before?" - -"Never." The girl shuddered. - -"And yet," Florence thought, "they are passing her in ahead of those -others! Can it be that this priestess has already heard of this child's -money?" For the first time in her life she began to believe that at least -some of these fortune tellers knew everything, even the innermost secrets -of one's heart. The feeling made her uncomfortable. - -The room they entered was weirdly fantastic. Its walls were covered with -paper so blue that it seemed black. Over this paper flew a thousand tiny -imaginary birds of every hue. The floor was jet black. On a sort of -raised platform, in a highly ornamental chair that seemed a throne, sat a -very large black woman with deep-set dark eyes. She was dressed in a robe -of dark red. As the two girls entered, she was swinging her arms slowly -up and down as if to drive away an imaginary swarm of flies, or perhaps -ghosts. - -"I am--" June began. - -"No, child. Don't tell me." The woman's tone was melodiously southern. -"I's a priestess, a voodoo priestess. I's the great, great granddaughter -of Cristophe, the Emperor of Haiti. - -"Listen, child!" Her voice dropped. It seemed to Florence that the lights -grew dim. "At midnight in the dark of de moon, on de highest mountain in -Haiti, dey took me an' a big black goat, all black. Dey sacrificed de -goat in de dark of de moon. But me, honey, me dey made a priestess. To me -it is given to ask and to know all things. As I look at you now, I seem -to see no father near you, no mother near you, but girls, one, two, -three, oh, mebby a dozen. That right?" - -"Yes, I--" - -"Don't speak, honey. You come to ask where your Daddy is, and I--I am -here to tell you. Only--" - -"I--I've got ten--" - -"Don't speak of money, not yet. I--" - -The priestess broke off suddenly. Florence had entered silently, but had -fallen back at once into a dark corner. For the first time the priestess -became conscious of her presence. - -"Who's that?" she demanded. - -"Only my friend," June replied timidly. - -"Well, she can sit over there." The priestess pointed to the farthest -corner. - -When Florence was seated the woman began again her monotonous monologue, -but she spoke in such low tones that Florence could catch only a word -here and there. - -"Darkness," she heard then--"Spirit of Cristophe--darkness--the black -goat--gold, gold, gold--spirit of darkness." - -Even as these last words were spoken, the lights began slowly to fade. -Then it was that for the first time Florence became conscious of some -living creature in the corner opposite her own. As she looked, she saw it -was a black goat with golden horns. Strangely enough, as the light -continued to fade, she felt herself imagining that the goat was a spirit, -the spirit of that black goat sacrificed on the highest mountain at -midnight in the dark of the moon. This, she knew, was pure nonsense. - -But why all this failing light? Was this some trick? She was about to -leap to her feet and demand that the thing be stopped. Then she thought -of the ones who waited in the room beyond the plastered wall. "Nothing -serious can happen." She settled back. - -But what was this? The room was now almost completely dark. Along the far -side of the room she seemed to catch sight of something moving. It rose -and fell, like some filmy shadow or trace of light. - -"Like a ghost!" She shuddered. "Yet it is not white. It shines like -ebony. It--" - -She could not really think the notion that formed in her mind which was, -"This is Cristophe's ghost, a black ghost." - -As the thing moved slowly, oh so slowly across the wall, there came the -sound of whispers--whispered words that could be heard but not -understood. - -Florence was ready to flee. But what of June? She must not leave her. -This thing was horrible. Yet it was fascinating. - -And then, close beside her, there was a movement. Looking down quickly, -she caught two golden gleams. "The goat's horns. He has moved, he is near -me!" She was filled with fresh terror. - -And then the light began returning. Slowly as it had faded, so slowly did -it return. - -Once again Florence looked at that spot close by her side. The goat was -not there. Her eyes sought the opposite corner. There lay the goat, -apparently fast asleep. - -"I have asked the spirit of Cristophe." The priestess spoke in her usual -melodious drawl. "He says dere must be gold, much gold. A statue to his -memory must be built. There must be gold, much gold. He will tell all -things--all--all things for gold. - -"There now!" she ended abruptly. "Some other time, you shall know all. -There must be gold, much gold--" - -And then, for the second time, Florence saw it, the shadow on the wall. -It was the same, the very same as that she had seen on Madame Zaran's -midnight blue drapes. There was the sharp nose, the curved chin, all that -made up a perfect Satan's face. One second it was there, the next it was -gone. But in that second Florence saw the large black woman half rise as -a look of surprise not unmixed with fear overspread her face. Then, as -the shadow faded, she dropped heavily back into the arms of the chair -that might have been a throne. - -A bell tinkled. The brown girl appeared. They were led out into the light -of day. - -"She--she didn't even take my ten dollars," June whispered. - -"No, but she will in the end, and much, very much more!" These words were -on the tip of Florence's tongue, but she did not say them. This surely -was a strange world. - -"June," said Florence after they had left the home of the voodoo -priestess--her voice was low and serious--"you must be very careful! Such -things as these might get you into a great deal of trouble; yes, and real -peril." - -"Peril?" The younger girl's voice trembled. - -"Just that," Florence replied. "Most of these fortune tellers, I'm -convinced, are rather simple-minded people who earn a living by telling -people the things they want to hear. They read your palm, study the bumps -on your head, tell you what the stars you were born under mean to you, or -gaze into a crystal. After that they make you happy by saying they see -that you are to inherit money, have new clothes, go on a journey, marry a -rich man and live happily ever after." Florence laughed low. - -"They charge you half a dollar," she went on. "You go away happily and no -real harm is done. - -"But some of these people, I think--mind you, I don't know for sure--some -of them may be sharpers, grafters in a big way. And when a dishonest -person is prevented from reaping a rich but unearned reward, he is likely -to become truly dangerous. S--so, watch your step! - -"Anyway," she added after a time, "your problem may perhaps be solved in -simpler ways. Remember the suggestion of Frances Ward? She said you -should be able to recall more than you have told thus far. If you could -remember the place where you lived with your father, perhaps we could -find that place. Then, it is possible someone living near there would -remember your father. That would help. In time perhaps we could untangle -the twisted skein that is your mysterious past." - -"Oh, do you think we could?" June's tone was eager. "But how can I -remember a thing I don't recall?" - -"There are people, great psychologists, who have ways of making people -think back, back, back into the remotest corners of their past." - -"Do you know one of them?" June asked excitedly. - -"Not at this moment, but I could find one, I think." - -"Will you try?" - -"Yes, I'll try. - -"And now--" Florence's tone changed. "I'll have to leave you here. I--I -have an appointment." - -Florence was, in the end, to find a psychologist, and that in the -strangest possible manner. Meanwhile, her appointment was with Madame -Zaran and her crystal ball. There was just time to make it. - -She arrived, rather out of breath, to find the place much the same, yet -somehow different. The crystal ball was in its place at the center of the -room. The chair, the rug, the midnight blue draperies were the same. -Madame Zaran came out with a smile to greet her. All was as before, and -yet--the big girl shuddered--there seemed to be an air of hostility about -the place. - -"Yes, you may gaze into the crystal." Madame's claw-like hands folded and -unfolded. "You may see much today. I have read it in a book, the book of -the stars. You were born under a remarkable constellation. Yes, I do -horoscopes as well. But now you shall gaze into the crystal ball." - -She withdrew. Florence was left alone with her thoughts and the crystal -ball. - -There followed a half hour's battle between her thoughts and the magic -ball. Her thoughts won. No beautiful island came to her in the ball, no -stately trees, no still waters, nothing. Only the sordid little world -which, it seemed, pressed in about her, stifling all beauty, all romance, -filled her mind. With all her heart she wished that she was to fly away -with Sandy and Jeanne to the magic of Isle Royale in winter. - -"But I will not go." She set her will hard. "I must not!" - -And then there, standing before her, was Madame Zaran. - -There was a strange light in the fortune teller's eyes. She said but one -word: - -"Well?" - -In that one word Florence seemed to feel a dark challenge. - -"No vision today," she replied simply. - -"No!" Madame's voice was harsh. "And there will be no visions for you. -Never again. You have betrayed the sacred symbol!" Her voice rose shrill -and high. Her short fingers formed themselves into claw-like curves. Her -tiger-like hair appeared to stand on end. - -"You--" her eyes burned fire. "You are a traitor. You--" - -She broke short off. Her weak mouth fell open. Her pupils dilated, she -stared at the midnight blue drapes. Then, for a third time, Florence saw -it--the shadow, the long, thin face, the narrow nose, the curved chin, -the shadow of Satan, all but the horns and the forked tail. - -While Madame still stared speechless, Florence slipped from her chair, -glided from the room, caught the teetering elevator, then found herself -once more upon the noisy city street. - -"Ah!" she breathed. "There was a time when I thought this street a -dangerous place. Now it is a haven, a place of refuge." - -She walked three blocks. Her blood cooled. Her heart resumed its normal -beat. She was in a mood for thought. What did Madame Zaran know? Did she -know all? There had been a little in her column that day, the column -"Looking Into The Future," that was about Madame Zaran's place and her -methods. No names were mentioned, no address given. It was written only -as an amusing incident. - -"And of course my name was not signed. It never is," Florence thought to -herself. "How could she know that I conduct that column? And yet--" Here -truly was food for thought. - -"Jeanne," she said as, two hours later, they sat reading beside a studio -light, "these fortune tellers have an uncanny way of finding out all -about you. That black priestess today told June all about herself. And -yet, she had never seen her before. Jeanne had made an appointment over -the phone, that was all. I don't believe in black magic, though I did see -something very like a black ghost. But how do they do it?" - -"How can they do it?" Jeanne echoed. - -"I've got a notion!" Florence exclaimed. "We'll try it out on one of the -fortune tellers of the simpler sort, you and I. What do you say?" - -"Anything for a little happy adventure," Jeanne laughed. - -"All right, it's a go! We'll start it tomorrow. And finish it, perhaps, -the next day." - -"My dear, I am intrigued!" Jeanne threw back her head to indulge a merry -laugh. - -Florence was glad that someone in the world could laugh. As for herself, -she felt that things were getting rather too thick for comfort. She felt -that somehow she was approaching an hour of testing, perhaps a crisis. -When would the testing come? Tomorrow? Next day? In a week? A month? Who -could say? Meanwhile, she could but carry on. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - FIRESIDE REFLECTIONS - - -"Fortune telling with cards," Jeanne said thoughtfully after a time, "is -very old. Madame Bihari told me all about it many, many times. She truly -believed that cards could foretell your fate. Do you think she was -wrong?" - -"It is strange," Florence replied in a sober tone. "It is hard to know -what to believe. The whole thing seems impossible, and yet--" - -"There are many thousands who have believed," Jeanne broke in. "Many -years ago there was a very famous teller of fortunes. He used -seventy-eight cards. Those were terrible times, the days of revolution. -Men were having their heads cut off because they were called traitors. No -one knew who would be next to be suspected and led away to the -guillotine. - -"Men used to come creeping to Ettella's place in the middle of the night -to ask if their heads were to fall in the morning. - -"Can you see it, Florence?" Jeanne spread out her arms in a dramatic -gesture. "A dimly lighted room, a haggard face opposite one who quietly -shuffles the cards, invites the haggard one to cut the cards, then -shuffles again. He spreads them out, one, two, three, four. Nothing to -laugh at, Florence--no joke! It is life or death. Could the cards tell? -Did they tell? When the fortune teller whispered, 'You shall live,' or -when he said hoarsely, 'Tomorrow you shall die,' did he always speak the -truth? Who can say? That was more than a hundred and fifty years ago. But -Florence," Jeanne's eyes shone with a strange light, "even under those -terrible circumstances, men _did_ believe. And they still believe today." - -"Yes." Florence shook her shoulders as if to waken herself from a bad -dream. "But--many of them are frauds of the worst sort. I can prove that. -We--" she sprang to her feet. "We shall try it tomorrow. This time you -shall have your fortune told. What do you say?" - -"Anything you may desire," Jeanne answered quietly. "Only let us hope it -may be a good fortune." - -"That will not matter," was Florence's rather strange reply, "for in the -end I feel certain that I can prove the fortune teller to be a cheat. And -that," she added, "in spite of the fact that I only know her name is -Myrtle Rand and that her 'studio,' as she calls it, is in the twenty-five -hundred block on North Clark Street." - -"We have agreed to try this," said Jeanne, "but how will you prove that -she is a fraud?" - -"You shall see!" Florence laughed. "This wonderful 'reading' is going to -cost you two whole dollars. This is my prediction. But if you feel it is -not worth it, I shall make it up to you out of my expense account." - -"Very well, it is done. Tomorrow my fortune shall be told." Jeanne lapsed -into silence. - -It was Miss Mabee who broke in upon that silence. - -"Jeanne," she exclaimed, "we must do something for this beautiful boy -musician you found upon the roof! What is it he calls himself?" - -"Tum Morrow." - -"Well, we must turn his tomorrow into today. He is too splendid to be -lost in the drab life of those who never have a chance. Let me see-- - -"I have it!" she exclaimed after a moment's reflection. "There is Tony -Piccalo. He is owner of that wonderful restaurant down there in the -theatre district. He is a patron of art. He paid me well for two pictures -of west side Italian life. He has often urged me to display my pictures -at his restaurant. All the rich people go there after a concert or a -show. I shall accept his offer. I shall display all my gypsy pictures. - -"And of course--" she smiled a wise smile. "We must have gypsy music and -gypsy dancing to go with the pictures. You, my Jeanne, shall be the -dancer and your Tum Morrow the star musician. What could be sweeter?" - -"But Tum is not a gypsy," Jeanne protested. - -"Who cares for that?" the artist laughed. "A few touches of red and brown -on his cheeks, a borrowed costume, and who shall know the difference? If -we bill him as a gypsy boy, no one will insist upon him joining the -union. And who knows but on that night he shall find some good angel with -a good deal of money. The angel will pay for his further education. And -there you are!" - -"But, Miss Mabee," Jeanne protested, "they will become so absorbed in the -show, they will forget your pictures! - -"But no!" She sprang to her feet as a sudden inspiration seized her. -"We'll make them look, and we'll give them one grand shock! - -"This is it!" Her manner became animated. "You paint a sketch upon a -large square of thin paper, then mount it in a frame. Set it up with all -your other pictures, only have it close to the platform where I am to -dance. - -"I--" she laughed a merry laugh. "I shall entertain them with the wildest -gypsy dance ever seen upon the stage, and right in the midst of it I -shall leap high, appear to lose my balance, and go crashing right through -that picture!" - -"Rather fantastic," said Miss Mabee. "I agree with you in one particular, -however. It _will_ give them a surprise. And that, in this drab world, is -what people are looking for." - -"You will do the picture?" Jeanne demanded eagerly. - -"I will do the picture." - -"A very large one?" - -"A very large one," Miss Mabee echoed. - -"And we shall have one very grand show!" Jeanne went rocketing across the -floor in that wildest of all gypsy dances. - -Three days later the colorful sketch of gypsy life, done on a large -square of paper, was finished and framed. It was a beautiful bit of work. -At a distance it could scarcely have been told from a real masterpiece. - -"Why did you make it so beautiful? How can I destroy it?" Jeanne wailed -at sight of it. - -Well might some sprite have echoed, "How can she?" - -The picture was to meet a stranger fate than that, and to serve an -unusual purpose as well. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - JEANNE'S FORTUNE - - -Next morning it was arranged that Jeanne should go unaccompanied to the -fortune teller on Clark Street. Florence would be loitering on the -street, not too far away. - -Jeanne, as she started forth on this exciting little journey, cut a real -figure. She had put on her finest silk dress. White gloves that reached -to her elbows were on her hands. Her hat was from one of the best -Michigan Avenue shops. And, to make sure that she would be taken for a -"little daughter of the rich," she had borrowed the famous artist's very -best fur coat. - -"Ah!" she breathed, "it is wonderful to be quite rich!" - -The place on Clark Street surprised her a little. A plain dwelling with -ancient brownstone front, it suggested nothing of the mysterious or -supernatural. Inside it was no better. A sign read, "Knock on the door." -The door in question was a glass door that had been painted a solid -brown. - -Jeanne knocked timidly. The door opened a crack, and a feminine voice -said, "Y-e-s?" - -The eyes that shone out from the narrow opening registered surprise. Such -a gorgeous apparition as Jeanne presented in the borrowed coat, -apparently had seldom crossed that threshold. - -"Dorothy Burns, who sells rare stamps at the Arcade, told me how -wonderful you are," Jeanne murmured wistfully. - -This was a well-memorized speech. She was at that moment recalling -Florence's last words before they parted. - -"The fortune teller will not ask your name or address. Don't give them to -her. She _will_, under one pretext or another, ask the name and address -of some person whom you know, quite probably a rather humble person. -However that may be, give her my name and address. Give her our telephone -number, too, and tell her I am always in between three and four in the -afternoon." Jeanne smiled in spite of herself, recalling these words. - -But the fortune teller was saying, "Won't you come in, please? There now. -Shall I take your coat? You wanted a reading? Is that not so? My very -best readings are two dollars." - -Jeanne removed her coat and placed it upon the back of the chair offered -her. She produced two crisp one-dollar bills. - -"Ah!" The round face of the fortune teller shone. "You are to have a very -wonderful future, I can see that at once." - -"I--I hope so." Jeanne appeared to falter. "You see--" she leaned forward -eagerly. "I have been--well, quite fortunate un--until just lately. And -now--" her eyes dropped. "Now things are not so good! And I--you know, -I'm worried!" - -Jeanne _was_ worried, all about that gorgeous coat. She hoped Florence -was near and perhaps a policeman as well, but she need have had no fear. - -Florence was near, very near. Having slipped through the outer door, she -had found a seat in the dimly lighted corridor. There was a corner in the -plastered wall just beyond her. From behind this there floated faint, -childish whispers. - -At last a face appeared, a slim pinched face surrounded by a mass of -uncombed hair. A second face peeked out, then a third. - -"Come here," Florence beckoned. Like birds drawn reluctantly forward by -some charm, the three unkempt children glided forward until they stood -beside her chair. - -"Who are you?" Florence whispered. - -"I'm Tillie," the largest girl whispered back. "She's Fronie, and he's -Dick. Our mother's gone away. Myrtle takes care of us, sort of like." - -"We--we're going to have ice cream and cake for dinner!" Fronie burst -forth in a loud whisper. "The beautiful lady gave Myrtle two whole -dollars. We always have ice cream and cake when Myrtle gets a dollar. -This time it's two." The child's pathetic face shone. - - -Within, Myrtle Rand, the fortune teller, was saying to Jeanne: - -"You may shuffle the cards. Now cut them twice with your right hand. -That's it. - -"Now--one, two, three, four, five, six; and one, two, three, four, five, -six. I see a change in your life. I think you will go to California. Yes, -it is California. One, two, three, four, five, six." She spread out a -third row of cards, then paused to study Jeanne's face intently. - -"Your hair is beautifully done," she said in a low tone. "Who does it for -you?" - -"You--you mean you'd like her address?" Jeanne started. How nearly -Florence's words were coming true! - -"Yes, yes I would." There was eagerness in the fortune teller's tone. -Then, as if she had been surprised into revealing too much, she added, -"But then it does not matter too much. You see I have a daughter who has -a very good position and--" - -"She might like to try my hair-dresser," Jeanne supplemented. "Here, I'll -write it down." - -With the pencil proffered her she scribbled down a name and address. The -name was Florence Huyler and the address that of their studio. Then she -smiled a puzzling smile. - - -Outside, Florence was saying to Tillie, "How do you know the beautiful -lady has given Myrtle two dollars?" - -"We--we--we saw them through the crack," Fronie sputtered. "Two whole -dollars! Mostly it's only quarters and sometimes dimes that Myrtle gets -for telling 'em things. Then we have bread that is dry and hard and -sometimes soup that is all smelly." - -"Myrtle, she's good to us," the older child confided. "Good as she can -be. But the rent man comes every week and says, 'Pay, or out you go!' So -all the quarters get gone!" - -"For a quarter Myrtle, she tells 'em their husbands will come back next -week, and some day they'll have money, plenty of money." The little girl -leaned forward eagerly and confidingly. - -"But for two whole dollars--o-o-oh, my, what a swell fortune! She--" - -Just then the outer door opened. A shabbily dressed woman, carrying a -bundle that looked like a washing she was taking home to be done, came in -and dropped wearily into a chair. Her eyes lighted for an instant with -hope as she stared at the closed door, then faded. - -The children vanished. A moment later a second drab creature entered, and -after that a third. - -"All working women," Florence thought, "and all ready to part with a -hard-earned quarter that they may listen to rosy prophecies about their -future." She found her spirits sinking. She hoped Jeanne's fortune would -be a short one. - -It was not short. The cards were shuffled three times. Then the crystal -ball on the table was gazed into. Jeanne's fortune grew and grew. "I see -fine clothes and a big car for you. You will go to California. Yes, yes, -I am sure of that. And money--much money. You have rich relatives. Is it -not so? And they are quite old." Myrtle Rand went on and on. - -At last Jeanne said, "I--I think I must go now." - -"But you will return?" Myrtle Rand's tone was eager. "There is much more -to be told. Very much more. Next time I will tell of your past. I shall -tell you many strange things. It will surprise you." - -Jeanne managed to slip from the room without committing herself. A moment -later the poor woman with the large bundle took her place before the -crystal ball. - -"Well," Jeanne laughed low as she and Florence walked into the bright -light of day, "I have a very rosy future! I am to have all that heart -could desire--love, money, automobiles, travel, everything!" - -"And next time you are going to be very much surprised," Florence added. - -"How did you know that?" Jeanne stared. "You can't have heard." - -"No, but it's true nevertheless." - -"And you," Jeanne laughed afresh, "you are now my hair-dresser. You are -to be at home between three and four o'clock tomorrow afternoon. Why you -made me tell that fib is something I don't at all understand." - -"You will," Florence laughed merrily. Then, "Here's our car. Let's -hurry." - - -Next day Miss Mabee and Jeanne journeyed to Maxwell Street in search of -Bihari and his gypsy blacksmith shop. Jeanne carried a stool and folding -easel, Miss Mabee her box of beautiful colors and her brushes. - -It was a lovely winter's day. Even the drab shops of Maxwell Street -seemed gay. - -Bihari's shop was not hard to find. Miss Mabee fell in love with it at -once. "Long and narrow. Plenty of light, but not too much. The very -place!" was her joyous commendation. "And here are the women!" - -Sure enough, there was a group of women patiently waiting to have their -pots and pans repaired. - -"But where are the children?" she asked. - -For answer Bihari stepped to the door, put two fingers to his lips, blew -a loud blast, and behold, as if by magic the place swarmed with children. - -"This one. That one. This, and that one." Miss Mabee selected her cast -quickly. - -Disappointed but not in the least rebellious, the remainder of the band -moved away. The shop door was closed and work began. - -Never had Jeanne experienced greater happiness than now. To be the -constant companion of a famous artist--what more could one ask? It was -not so much that Marie Mabee was famous. Jeanne was no mere -hero-worshiper. The thing that counted most was their wonderful -association. Somehow Jeanne felt the power, the sense of skill that was -Miss Mabee's flowing in her own veins. And now that she, for the time, -was not the model, but the onlooker, she experienced this sense of fresh -power to a far greater degree. - -To sit in a remote corner of Bihari's long narrow shop, to witness the -skill with which Miss Mabee assembled the cast for a great picture, ah, -that was something! To watch her skilful fingers as by some strange magic -she placed a daub of color here, another there, twisted her brush here -and twirled it there, sent it gliding here, gliding there, until, like -the slow coming of a glorious dawn, there grew a picture showing Bihari, -the powerful gypsy blacksmith, the ragged gypsy children, the anxious -housewives, all in one group that seemed to glorify toil. Ah, that was -glory indeed! - -Jeanne would never be a painter, she knew this well enough. Yet she had -sensed a great fact, that all true art is alike, that a painter draws -inspiration and fresh power from a great musician, that a novelist -listens to a symphony and goes home to write a better book, that even a -dancer does her part in the world more skilfully because of her -association with a famous painter. So Jeanne basked in the light that -Miss Mabee spread about her and was gloriously happy. - - -In the meantime Florence was keeping an appointment on the telephone and, -to all appearances having a grand time of it. She was saying: - -"Yes, yes--yes, indeed!--Oh, yes, very rich.--And old. Oh, quite old, -perhaps eighty--Famous?--Oh, surely, terribly famous.--Glorious pictures. -Yes--In Hollywood? She hasn't told me for sure. But yes, I think so." - -This went on for a full ten minutes. From time to time she put a hand -over the mouth-piece while she indulged in peals of laughter. Then, -sobering, she would go on with her conversation. - -When the thing was all over, the receiver hung up, she went into one more -fit of laughter, then said as she slowly walked across the floor, "That's -great! I wonder how many of them do it just that way? Perhaps all of -them, and just think how they can rake in the money if they go after it -in a big way!" - -A big way? Her face sobered. That beautiful girl, June Travis, had met -her once more at the newspaper office. She had confided to her that -Madame Zaran had asked her for a thousand dollars. - -"A thousand dollars!" Florence had exclaimed. "For what?" - -"To tell me where my father is." She turned a puzzled face toward -Florence. "Why not? If you were all alone in the world and if you had -even a great deal of money, wouldn't you give it all just to get your -father back?" - -"Yes, perhaps," Florence replied slowly, "if they really did bring him -back." - -"Oh, they will!" the girl exclaimed. "They will! Madame Zaran knows a -truly great man in the east. He has done wonderful things. His fees are -high. But great lawyers, great surgeons ask large fees too. So," she -sighed, "if my father is not found before I get my money, I shall pay -them." - -"Yes, and perhaps much more," Florence thought with an inward groan. "But -her father shall be found. He must be, and that in natural ways. He -really must! - -"But how?" Her spirits drooped. How? Truly that was the question. - -A key in the door startled her from her troubled thoughts. It was Jeanne -back from Maxwell Street. - -"Did you find that thieving gypsy?" Florence asked. - -"No, but we did a glorious sketch of Bihari in his shop." - -"But what of the poor widow? She can't eat your pictures." - -"N-no." Jeanne put on a sad face. "I shall find her for you, though! -Perhaps tomorrow." - -"Tomorrow," said Florence with a lightning-like change to a lighter mood, -"you shall go to that place on North Clark Street and have your past as -well as your future told. - -"And," she added with a chuckle, "lest you be too much surprised by your -fortune, I will say this much: Myrtle Rand will tell you that you have a -grandfather who is very old and very rich--" - -"But, Florence, I have no grandfather. I--" - -Florence held up a hand for silence. "As for yourself, she will tell you -that you have been a gay deceiver, that you are a truly famous young -artist, a painter of landscapes, a--" - -"But, my dear, I--" - -"Yes, I know. But how can I help that? This is to be your past and -future. If you don't like the future, you may ask her to change it. But -what is done is done! You can't change your past! - -"As for your future," she went on, grinning broadly, "you are to journey -to Hollywood. There you shall be employed by a great moving picture -company simply to plan magnificent backgrounds against which the world's -greatest moving picture dramas are to be played." - -By this time Jeanne was so dazed that she had no further questions to -ask. - -"Only tomorrow will tell," she sighed as she sank into a chair. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - A STARTLING REVELATION - - -And tomorrow did tell. Scarcely had Jeanne paid her two dollars to the -fortune teller, Myrtle Rand, than the fortune Florence had promised her -began unfolding itself. - -"The cards say this--" Myrtle Rand shuffled and dealt, shuffled and dealt -again. "I see this and this and this in the crystal ball." Nothing of -importance was changed. Jeanne had heard it all before. Florence had told -her. - -"But how could she know that the fortune teller would say all this?" she -kept asking herself. "And almost all of it untrue." - -She was still asking herself this question when she joined Florence for -lunch two hours later. - -"How could you know?" she demanded. - -"Very simple," Florence replied in high glee. "I told her all that over -the phone." - -"But why?" Jeanne stared. - -"Can't you see?" Florence replied, "I was testing her system which, after -all, is a very simple one. The first time you visited her she, on a very -simple pretext, got the name and address of someone who knows you. On -still another pretext she called me on the phone to ask about you, -thinking me your hair-dresser, and I told her things that were entirely -untrue." - -"And if they had been true," Jeanne exclaimed, "if I had known nothing of -the phone call, how astonished I should have been to find that she could -get so much of my past from the cards and the crystal ball!" - -"To be sure. And, quite naturally, you would have had great faith in her -prophecies for the future." - -"Florence!" Jeanne cried, "she is a fraud!" - -"Yes," Florence agreed. "But not a very great fraud. - -"Tillie, Fronie and Dick will have ice cream and cake for dinner," she -said softly. - -"Who are they?" Jeanne asked in surprise. - -"They are three foundlings that Myrtle Rand is befriending. So-o," -Florence ended slowly, "I shall not write up Myrtle Rand, at least not -with her real name and address. I shall, however, make a good story of -our grand discovery. - -"And that," she added abruptly, "brings me to another subject. Sandy is -flying north tomorrow to witness the moose trapping." - -"Tomorrow!" - -"That's it. You may as well hurry home and pack your bag. As for me, that -may spell defeat. I'll have to write my own stories, and if I fail--" She -did not finish, but the look on her face was a sober one. She had come to -love her strange task. She had planned some things that to her seemed -quite important. She must not fail. - -That evening at ten they sat once more before the fire, Florence, Jeanne -and Miss Mabee. Because Jeanne was to go flying away through the clouds -next morning, they were in a mellow mood. - -Marie Mabee rested easily in her deeply cushioned chair before the fire. -She was wrapped in a dressing gown of gorgeous hue, a bright red, trimmed -in deepest blue. Upon the sleeves was some strange Oriental design. On -her feet, stretched out carelessly before the fire, were low shoes of -shark skin, red like the gown. With her sleek black hair combed straight -back from the high forehead, with her deep dark eyes shining and her -unique profile half hidden by shadows, she seemed to Florence some -strange princess just arrived from India. - -"What is it," Marie Mabee spoke at last, "what is it we ask of life?" - -"Peace. Happiness. Beauty," Jeanne spoke up quickly. - -"Success. Power," Florence added. - -"Peace--" Marie Mabee's tone was mellow. "Ah, yes, how many there are who -seek real peace and never find it! I wonder if we have it, you and you -and I." She spread her long slender hands out before the fire. - -"And why not?" She laughed a laugh that was like the low call of birds at -sunset. "Is this not peace? We are here before the fire. No one wishes to -do us harm, or at least they cannot reach us. We have food, shelter and a -modest share of life's beautiful things. Do we not have peace? Ah, yes. -But if not, then it is our own fault. - -"'The mind has its own place, and of itself can make a heaven of hell, or -a hell of heaven.' - -"But beauty?" Her tone changed. She sat bolt upright. "Yes, we want -beauty." Her eyes swept the room. There were elaborate draperies, a tiny -clock of solid gold, an ivory falcon, an exquisite bust of pure white -marble, all the works of art she had gathered about her, and above them -all, one great masterpiece, "Sheep on the Hillside." "Yes," she agreed, -"we have a craving for beauty. All have that perhaps. Some much more than -others. But beauty--" she sprang to her feet. "Beauty, yes! Yes, we must -have beauty first, last and always." - -As she began marching slowly back and forth before the fire, Florence was -shocked by the thought that she resembled a sleek black leopard. -"Nonsense!" she whispered to herself. - -"Happiness? Yes." Marie Mabee dropped back to her place of repose. -"Happiness may be had by all. The simplest people are happiest because -their wants are few. Or are they?" - -Neither Jeanne nor Florence knew the answer. Who does? - -"But success," Florence insisted. "Yes, and power." - -"Success?" There was a musing quality in Marie Mabee's voice. "I wonder -if success is what I am always striving for? Or do I make pictures -because I enjoy creating beauty? - -"After all--" she flung her arms wide. "What does it matter? - -"But power!" Her tone changed. "No! No! I have no desire for power. Leave -that to the rich man, to the rulers, anyone who desires it. I have no use -for power. Give me peace, beauty, happiness, and, if you insist, success, -and I will do without all the rest." - -After that, for a long time there was silence in the room. Florence -studied the faces of her companions, each beautiful in its own way, she -wondered if they were thinking or only dreaming. - -For herself, she was soon lost in deep thought. To her mind had come a -picture of Frances Ward. Her littered desk, her tumbled hair, her bright -eager eyes, the slow procession of unfortunate and unhappy ones that -passed all day long before that desk of hers--all stood out in bold -relief. - -"What does Frances Ward want?" she asked herself. "Peace ... beauty ... -happiness ... success?" She wondered. - -Here were two people, Marie Mabee and Frances Ward. How strangely -different they were! And yet, what wonderful friends they had both been -to her! - -"Life," she whispered, "is strange. Perhaps there was a time when Frances -Ward too wanted peace, beauty, happiness, success for herself, just as -Miss Mabee does. But now she desires happiness for others--that and that -alone. - -"Perhaps," she concluded, "I too shall want only that when I am old. - -"And yet--" - -Ah, that disquieting "And yet--." She was wondering in her own way what -the world would be like if everyone sought first the happiness of others. - -Upon her thoughts there broke the suddenly spoken words of Marie Mabee, -"Let us have beauty. By all means! Beauty first, last and always!" - -Two hours later Florence sat alone in the half darkness that enshrouded -the studio. The others had retired for the night. She was still engaged -in the business of putting her thoughts to bed. - -It was a strange little world she found herself in at this time. Having -started out, with an amused smile, to discover novel and interesting -newspaper stories about people who pretended to understand other men's -minds, who read their bumps, studied the stars under which they were -born, psychoanalyzed their minds, told their fortunes and all the rest, -she found herself delving deeper, ever deeper into the mysteries of their -strange cults. Ever striving to divide the true from the false, tracking -down, as best she could, those who were frauds and robbers, she had at -last got herself into a difficult if not dangerous situation. - -"There's that gypsy woman who stole from a poor widow," she told herself. -"Jeanne's going away. That cannot wait. I'll have to find that gypsy. And -then--?" - -Then there was June Travis and her lost father. Madame Zaran was on her -trail; the voodoo priestess too. June had made one more visit to the -priestess. She was afraid the girl had said too much. At any rate, she -was sure the priestess had demanded a large fee for finding the lost -father. - -"_I_ shall find him," the big girl said, springing to her feet. "I must!" - -Her eyes fell upon a picture standing on a low easel in the corner. It -was the one done on thin paper. "That is for Tum Morrow's party," she -thought. "Well, Tum Morrow's party will have to wait. - -"Jeanne's going away will leave us lonely," she sighed. "But who can -blame her? Isle Royale was beautiful in summer. What must it be in -winter?" - -For a time she stood there dreaming of rushing waters, leaf-brown trails -and sighing spruce trees. Then she turned to make her way slowly across -the room, up the narrow stairway and into her own small chamber. - -One question remained to haunt her even in her dreams. Were all fortune -tellers like Myrtle Rand? Did they secure their facts in an underhanded -manner, then pass them on to you as great surprises? Who could answer -this? Surely not Florence. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - FIRE DESTROYS ALL - - -A great wave of loneliness swept over Florence as on the morrow's chilly -dawn she bade good-bye to her beloved boon companion and to Sandy, then -saw them mount the steps of their plane and watched that plane soar away -into the blue. - -"Isle Royale is hundreds of miles away," she thought to herself. "They -will be back, I'm sure enough of that. Airplanes are safe enough. But -when shall I see them again?" - -It was not loneliness alone that depressed her. She was experiencing a -feeling of dread. She had dug deeper into the lives and ways of some -fortune tellers than they could have wished. - -"They are wolves," she told herself, "and wolves are cowards. They fight -as cowards fight, in the dark." She told them off on her fingers: the -dark-faced gypsy woman was one, Madame Zaran a second, Marianna -Cristophe, the voodoo priestess, a third. And there were others. - -"And now," she thought, "I am alone." - -Alone? No! Her spirits rose. There was still Frances Ward. "Good old -gray-haired Frances Ward!" she whispered. "Everybody's grandmother. May -God bless her!" - -It was Frances Ward who helped her over the first difficult hurdle of -that day. Sandy was gone. She must write her own stories. This seemed -easy enough, until she sat down to the typewriter. Then, all thoughts -left her. - -"My dear, try a pencil," Frances Ward suggested after a time. "A pencil -becomes almost human after you have used it long enough; a typewriter -never. And why don't you write the story of your little lost girl, June -Travis? Use no names, but tell it so well that someone who knew her -father will come to her aid." - -"I'll try." Florence was endowed with fresh hope. - -With four large yellow pencils before her, she began to write. The first -pencil broke. She threw it at the wall. The second broke. She threw it -after the first. Then thoughts and pencils began flowing evenly. - -When, an hour later, Florence presented a typewritten copy of the story -for Mrs. Ward's inspection she pronounced it, "Capital! The best that has -been in your column so far." - -It may be that this extravagant praise turned the girl's head, leading -her to commit an act that brought her into great peril. However that may -be, at eight o'clock that night she fell into a trap. - -The thing seemed safe enough. True, Florence did the greater part of -investigating in the day time. But a "spiritual adviser"--who would -expect any sort of danger from such a person? - -That was what Professor Alcapar styled himself, "Spiritual Adviser." Had -his sign hung from a church, Florence would not have given it a second -thought. But the card that fell into her hand said his studio was on one -of the upper floors of a great office building. Perhaps this should have -warned her, but it did not. - -"I'll just take the elevator up there and ask a question or two," she -told herself. "Might get a grand story for tomorrow." She did, but she -was not to write it--at least, not yet. - -There was no glass in the door of Professor Alcapar's studio. A light -shone through the crack at the edge of the door. She knocked, almost -timidly. The door was opened at once. She stepped inside. The door closed -itself. She was there. - -Save for one small light in a remote corner, the room was shrouded in -darkness. - -"More of their usual stuff," she thought to herself without fear. -"Darkness stands for secrecy, mystery. At least, these people know how to -impress their clients. Spiritual adviser, clothed in darkness." - -She became conscious of someone near her. Then of a sudden she caught the -distinct click of a lock, and after that came a flood of light. - -She took two backward steps, then stood quite still. With a single sweep -of her practiced eye, she took in all within the room. She started as her -eyes fell upon--of all persons!--Madame Zaran. She was seated in a chair, -smiling a complacent and knowing smile. - -The person nearest to Florence was a small dark man with beady eyes. -Farther away, with his back to the door, was a powerfully built, swarthy -man whose broad neck was covered with bristles. - -More interesting than these, and at once more terrifying, was a second -small man. He was working at a narrow bench. He wore dark goggles. In his -hand he held a sort of torch. The light from this torch, when he switched -it on, was blinding. With it he appeared to be engaged in joining certain -bits of metal. There was, however, on his face a look altogether -terrifying. - -"I am trapped!" the girl thought to herself. "Ten stories up. And it is -night. Why did I come?" - -"You wished to see Professor Alcapar?" a voice asked. It was the little -dark man who stood before her. - -"Yes. I--" the words stuck in her throat. "They have locked the door!" -she was thinking a trifle wildly. - -"I am Professor Alcapar," said the little man in a perfectly professional -tone. "Perhaps these good people will excuse me. What can I do for you?" - -"Why, I--" again the girl's voice failed her. - -Truly angry at herself, she was ready to stamp the floor, when the smooth -voice of Madame Zaran said, "Won't you have a chair? You must have time -to compose yourself. The Professor, I am sure, can quiet your mind. He is -conscious of God. He makes others conscious of divine power." The words -were spoken in an even tone. For all this, there was in them a suggestion -of malice that sent a cold shiver coursing up the girl's spine. - -"You have been kind enough to visit our other place of--of business," -Madame Zaran went on when Florence was seated. "You see us here in a more -intimate circle. This is our--you might say, our retreat." - -"Retreat. Ah, yes, very well said, our retreat," the Professor echoed. - -Florence allowed her eyes to wander. They took in the window. At that -moment a great electric sign, some distance away, burst forth with a -brilliant red light. Across this flash of light, running straight up and -down, were two dark lines. She noted this, but for the moment gave it no -serious thought. It was of tremendous importance, for all that. A simple -fact, lightly observed but later recalled, has more than once saved a -life. - -"You wished to see the Professor," Madame reminded her. There was an evil -glint in her eye. At the same time the torch in the corner hissed, then -flamed white. - -"Yes, I--well, you see," the girl explained in a voice that was a trifle -weak, "I am interested in religion." - -"What kind of religion?" Madame Zaran smiled an evil smile. - -"Why, all kinds." - -"The Professor," said Madame, "is the sole representative of a religious -order found only in the hidden places of India. It is a very secret -order. They are mystic, and they worship fire, FIRE." - -She repeated that last word in a manner that caused the big girl's cheek -to blanch. The torch in the corner went sput-sput-sput. - -"Fire," said the Professor in a voice that was extraordinarily deep for -one so small, "Fire destroys all, ALL! All that I know, all that _you_ -know may be destroyed by a single breath of flame." - -"Yes, I--" - -Florence's throat was dry. To calm her fluttering heart she gazed again -at the window. Once more the red light of that street sign flared out. As -before, two dark lines cut across it, up and down. Then, like a flash, -the girl knew what those lines were. They ran from the roof to the -ground. She had noted them in a dreamy sort of way as she entered the -building. Now they appeared to stand out before her in bold relief. - -Then there burst upon her startled ears a sharp cry of anger. She looked -quickly at Madame's face. It was black as the western sky before a storm. - -"You do not even listen!" She was fairly choking with anger as she fixed -her burning eyes on Florence. "You did not come here to seek spiritual -advice. You came here as a spy. A _spy_!" Her breath failed her. But in -the corner the white-hot torch sputtered, and to Florence's terrified -vision, written on the wall in letters of flame there appeared the word, -SPY! - -"He could burn those words upon one's breast," she thought. "With that -torch he could burn out one's heart!" She gripped at her breast to still -the hard beating of her heart. - -"Why do you spy upon us?" Madame was speaking again. "Is it because we -are frauds? Because we pretend to know that which we do not know? What is -that to you? - -"Is it because we take money from those who can well afford to give? Look -you! We are poor. We have no money. But we must live, and live we will! -Why not?" She laughed a hoarse laugh. "Why not? And what is it to you if -we do live well at the expense of those who are weak and foolish? You and -your paper! Bah!" She arose with a threatening gesture. As she took two -steps forward her hands became claws, her teeth the fangs of a wild -thing. - -Florence sprang back in sudden terror. - -But the woman before her tottered on her feet. Her face turned a sickish -purple. - -"No! No!" She gurgled in her throat. "It is not for me! Come, Beppo!" - -The man at the bench turned half about. At the same time his torch glowed -with a more terrifying flame. - -"Fire! Fire!" the Professor mumbled. - -But for Florence there was to be no fire. She was half way across the -room. Ten seconds later she had thrown up the window and was standing on -the ledge. - -Caught by surprise, the others in the room stood motionless, like puppets -in a play. What did they think--that she would dash her life out on the -pavement below? Or did they just not think at all? - -To Florence life had always seemed beautiful; never so much so as at that -moment. To live, to dream, to hope, to struggle on and on toward some -unseen distant goal. Ah, yes, life! Life! To feel the breath of morning -on your cheek, to face the rising sun, to throw back your shoulders, to -drink in deep breaths of air, to whisper, "God, I thank you for life!" -This was Florence always. She would not willingly dash out her own -brains. - -Nor was there the need. Before her, an easy arm's length away, were two -stout ropes. The roof was undergoing repairs. Material was drawn up on -these ropes. They ended in a large tub on the sidewalk ten stories below. - -There was not a second to lose. The paralysis inside that room would soon -pass. And then-- - -Her two strong arms shot out. She gripped a rope. She swung out over -space. Her feet twisted about the rope. She shot downward. There was a -smell of scorching leather. Windows passed her. In one room a char-woman -scrubbed a floor, in a second a belated worker kissed his stenographer -good-night, and then, plump! she landed at the feet of a young man who, -up until that second, had been strolling the street reading a book. - -The young man leaped suddenly into the air. The book came down with a -loud slap. - -"Do--do you do that sort of thing reg--regularly?" the young man -stuttered when he had regained a little of his dignity. He looked up at -the rope as if expecting to see a whole bevy of girls, perhaps angels -too, descending on the rope. - -"No," Florence laughed a trifle shakily, "I don't do it often." - -"But see here!" the young man exclaimed, "you look all sort of white and -shaky, as if you--you'd seen a ghost or something! How about a good cup -of java or--or something, on a stool, you know--right around the corner? -Perfectly respectable, I assure you." - -"As if I cared just now!" Florence thought to herself. "Imagine being -afraid of a young student on a stool, after a thing like that!" She -glanced up, then once more felt afraid. - -"Fire!" She seemed to hear the Professor say, "Fire destroys all." - -"Yes! Sure!" She seized the astonished young man's arm. "Sure. Let's go -there. Quick!" - - - - - CHAPTER XV - THE INTERPRETER OF DREAMS - - -"Curiosity," said the young man as he reached for the mustard, "once -killed a cat. But anyway, I'm curious. What about it? Were you winning a -bet when you came down that rope?" - -They had arrived safely at the little restaurant round the corner. -Perched on stools, they were drinking coffee and munching away at small -pies for all the world like old pals. - -"No, I--" Florence hesitated. He was a nice-appearing young man; his eyes -were fine. There was a perpetually perplexed look on his face which said, -"Life surprises me." - -"Well, yes," she said, changing her mind, "perhaps I was winning a bet -with--" she did not finish. She had started to say, "a bet with death." -This, she reasoned, would lead to questions and perhaps to the disclosing -of facts she wished to conceal. - -"What do you do beside reading books on the street at night?" she asked -quickly. - -"I--why, when I don't study books I study people," he replied frankly. -"I'm--well, you might call me a psychologist, though that requires quite -a stretch of the imagination." He grinned. Then as a sort of -afterthought, he added, "Sometimes I tell people the meaning of their -dreams." - -"And you, also!" Florence exclaimed, all but dropping her pie. She began -sliding from the stool. - -"No, no! Don't go!" he cried in sudden consternation. "What in the world -have I said?" - -"Dreams," she replied, "you pretend to interpret dreams. And there's -nothing to it. You--you don't look like a cheat." - -"Indeed I'm not!" he protested indignantly. "And there truly is something -in dreams--a whole lot, only not in the way people used to think. Slide -back up on that stool and I'll explain. - -"Waiter," he ordered, "give Miss--what was that name?" - -"Florence for short," the girl smiled. - -"Give Florence another piece of pie," he finished. - -"You see--" he launched into his subject at once. "I don't ask you what -your dreams are, then tell you 'You have dreamed of an eagle; that is a -good sign; you will advance,' or 'You dreamed of being married; that is -bad; you will become seriously ill, or shall have bad news from afar.' -No, I don't say that. All that is nonsense! - -"What I do say is that dreams tell something of your inner life. If they -are carefully studied, they may help you to a better understanding of -yourself." - -"Interesting, if true." Florence took a generous bit from her second -small pie. "But it's all too deep for me." - -"I'll explain." The young student appeared very much in earnest. "Take -this case: a woman dreamed of seeing an elephant balancing himself on a -big balloon and sailing through the sky. Suddenly the balloon blew up, -the elephant collapsed, and the woman wakened from her dream. What caused -that dream?" he asked, wrinkling his brow. "The woman had seen both -elephants and balloons, but not recently. Truth is, the balloon and the -elephant were symbols of other things. - -"When a dream interpreter questioned her, he found that she lived in a -large, badly furnished house which she hated. All but unconsciously she -had wished that the house would collapse or blow up. The collapse of the -elephant symbolized the destruction of the house." - -"And s-so," Florence drawled, "she had the old house blown up." - -"No, that wasn't the answer!" the youthful psychologist protested. "The -thing that needed changing was her own mental attitude. The way to fit -our surroundings to our desires is often to change rather than destroy -them. She had the house remodeled and refurnished. And now," he added -with a touch of pride, "she is happy. And all because of the proper -interpretation of her dream." - -"Marvelous!" There was a mixed note of mockery and enthusiasm in the -girl's tone. "And now, here's one for you. I too dreamed of an -elephant--that was night before last. I was in a jungle. The jungle -seemed fairly familiar to me. I was passing along a narrow trail. There -were other trails, but I seemed to know my way. Yet I was afraid, -terribly afraid. The surprising thing was, I couldn't see a living thing, -not a bird, a bat, or even a mouse. - -"And then--" she drew a long breath. "Then in my dream I heard a terrible -snorting and crashing. And, right in my path there appeared an immense -elephant with flaming eyes, eyes of fire. _Fire._ - -"Fire!" She fairly gasped at the apparent revelation of her own words. -"Fire destroys all," she murmured low. - -"And then?" her new-found friend prompted. - -"And then," Florence laughed with a feeling of relief. "Then I woke up to -find the sun streaming in at my window. And, of course," she added, "it -was that bright sun shining on my face that caused the dream." - -"I'm not so sure about that," said the student. His tone was serious. "I -have a feeling that you are in some sort of real danger. I am surprised, -now that I recall it, that I did not see the elephant, or whatever he -symbolized, coming down that rope after you. You--you wouldn't like to -tell me?" He hesitated. - -"N-not now." Florence slid from her stool. "Perhaps some other time." - -"O. K. Fine! I'm greatly interested." - -"So--so am I." These words slipped unbidden from her lips. - -"Here's my card." He thrust a square of pasteboard in her hand. - -"Thanks for the pie!" They were at the door. - -"Oh, that's more than all right. Remember--" his hand was on her arm for -an instant. "Don't forget, if you need me to interpret a dream, or -for--for--" - -"Another piece of pie," she laughed. - -"Sure! Just anything," he laughed back, "just give me a ring." - -"By the way!" Florence said with sudden impulse, "there _is_ something. -Can you help people recall, make them think back, back into their past -until they at last remember something that may be of great help to them?" - -"I've done it at times quite successfully." - -"Then I'd like to arrange something, perhaps for tomorrow or the next -day. I--I'll give you a ring." - -"I'll be waiting." - -"Good-bye." - -"Good-bye." - -He was gone. Florence felt better. In this great city she had found one -more substantial friend. In times like these friendships counted for a -great deal. - -There come periods in all our lives when life moves so swiftly that -things which, perhaps, should be done are left undone. It had been so -with Florence. As, a short time later, she found time for repose in the -studio under the eaves of a skyscraper, she wondered if she should not -have called the police and had that tenth story haunt of Madame Zaran and -the Professor raided. - -"And after that--what?" she asked herself. To this question she found no -answer. The police might tell her she had been seized with a plain case -of jitters. Truth was, not a person in that room had touched her. Madame -Zaran had indulged in a fit of passion--that was about all. - -"Besides--" she settled back in her chair. "It is not yet time. There are -things I want to know. How was it that I saw real moving figures in that -crystal ball? How much of Madame Zaran's work is pure show? How much is -real? I must know. And, meantime, I must do what I can for June Travis." -With that she went away to the land of dreams. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - THE SECRET OF LOST LAKE - - -Jeanne toiled laboriously up the side of Greenstone Ridge on Isle Royale. -From time to time she paused to regain her breath, to drink in the cool -clean winter air, and to revel in the glorious contrasts of the white -that was snow and the dark green that was spruce, fir and balsam. - -She was on Isle Royale. More than once she had been obliged to pinch -herself to make sure of that. - -"Airplanes are so sudden, so wonderful!" she had said to Sandy. "Now we -are in Chicago; now we are in Duluth; and now we are on Isle Royale." - -Their trip north had been just like that, a short whirring flight, and -there they were coming down upon Isle Royale. Landing on skiis, they had -taxied almost to the door of the low fisherman's cabin which was to be -their temporary home. - -Here Sandy was to study wild life, find out all he could about trapping -wild moose and send interesting stories out over the short-wave radio. -Here Jeanne was to wander at will over the great white wilderness. And -this was exactly what she was doing now. - -"What a world!" she breathed. "What a glorious world God has given us!" -Her gaze swept a magic wilderness. - -Her heart leaped anew as she thought of the chance circumstances that had -brought her to this "Magic Isle" sixty miles from the Michigan mainland -in winter. - -"I am going to like Vivian," she told herself. "I am sure she is quite -grand." She paused a moment to consider. Vivian was the fisherman's -daughter. Her hands were rough, her face was tanned brown. Her clothing -of coarse material was stoutly made to stand many storms. Jeanne was -dressed at this moment in a sweater of bright red. It was wool, soft as -eiderdown. Her dark blue knickers were of the latest cloth and pattern. -Miss Mabee had outfitted her in this lavish manner. - -"Vivian and I shall be the finest friends in all the world!" she -exclaimed. - -With that, she squared her slender shoulders, threw back her thick golden -hair, drew her wool cap down tight, then went struggling toward her goal. - -Twenty minutes later a cry of pure joy escaped her lips. "How wonderful! -How perfectly gorgeous! - -"And yet--" her voice dropped. "How strange! They did not tell me there -was a lake on the other side, a gem of a lake hidden away beneath the -ridges. I--I doubt if they knew. How little some people know about the -places near their own homes! - -"I--I'll give it a name!" she cried, seized by a sudden inspiration. "It -shall be called 'Lost Lake.' Lost Lake," she murmured. As she looked down -upon it, it seemed a mirror set in a frame of darkest green. - - "Hemlock turned to pitchy black - Against the whiteness at their back." - -"My Lost Lake," she whispered, "I must see it closer." - -Little did she dream that this simple decision would result in mysteries -and adventures such as she had seldom before known. - -"How wonderful it all is!" she exclaimed again, as at last her feet -rested on the glistening surface of the little lost lake. - -She went shuffling across the dark, deeply frozen surface. The first -spell of severe weather of that autumn had come with a period of dead -calm. All the small lakes of the island had frozen over smooth as glass. -And now, though the ice was more than a foot thick, it was possible while -gliding across it to catch sight of dull gray rocks and deep yawning -shadows where the water was deep. - -Only the day before on Long Lake, which was close to Vivian's home, -Jeanne and her friend had thrown themselves flat down on the ice, shaded -their eyes and peered into the shadowy depth below. They had found it a -fascinating adventure into the great unknown. In places, standing like a -miniature forest, tall, heavy-leafed pikeweeds greeted their eyes. Among -these, like giant dirigibles moored to the tree-tops, long black pickerel -lay. Waving their fins gently to and fro, they stared up with great round -eyes. Here, too, at times they saw whole schools of yellow perch and -wall-eyes. Once, too, they caught sight of a scaly monster more than six -feet long. He was so huge and ugly, they shuddered at sight of him. -Vivian had decided he must be a sturgeon and marveled at his presence in -these waters. - -Recalling all this, Jeanne now slipped the snowshoes from off her feet -and, throwing herself flat on the ice, began her own little exploring -expedition beneath the surface of her own private lake. - -She had just sighted a school of tiny perch when a strange and apparently -impossible sight caught her gaze. Faint, but quite unmistakable, there -came to her mental vision a circle of gold, and within that circle these -letters and figures: D.X.123. - -One moment it was there. The next it was blotted out by the passing of -that school of small fish. When the fish had passed, the vision too was -gone. - -"I didn't see it at all," she told herself. "It was just a picture -flashed on the walls of my memory--something I saw long ago. It is like -the markings on an airplane--the plane's number. But it really wasn't -there at all. - -"I have it!" she exclaimed. "That must be the number on the airplane that -carried us here. I'll look and see when I get back." - -She straightened up to look about her. As she did so, she realized that -the sun had gone under a cloud. Disquieting thought, this may have been -the reason for the vanishing picture in the depths below. - -"The fish hid it. Then the sun went under that cloud. I must look again." -She settled down to await the passing of that cloud. - -"What if I see it again?" she thought. "Shall I tell the others? Will -they believe me? Probably not. Laugh at me, tell me I've been seeing -things. - -"I know what I'll do!" She came to a sudden decision. "I'll bring Vivian -up here and have her look. I'll not tell her a thing, but just have her -look. Then if she sees it I'll know--" - -But the sun was out from behind the cloud--time to look again. - -Her heart was beating painfully from excitement as she shaded her eyes -once more. - -For a time she could make out nothing but rocks and deep shadows. Then -the school of small fish circled back. - -"Have to wait." She heaved a sigh almost of relief. - -But now something startled the perch. They went scurrying away. And -there, just as it had been before, was the circle and that mysterious -sign: D.X.123. - -Ten seconds more it lingered. Then, as before, it vanished. Once again -the bright light had faded. This time a large cloud was over the sun. It -would take an hour, perhaps two, for it to pass. - -"I must go back," she sighed. Slipping on her snowshoes, she turned about -to make her way laboriously up the ridge. - -As she struggled on, climbing a rocky ridge here, battling her way -through a thick cluster of balsams there, then out upon a level, barren -space, a strange feeling came over her, a feeling she could not at all -explain. It was as if someone were trying to whisper into her ear a -startling and mysterious truth. She listened in vain for the whisper. It -did not come. And yet, as she once more began the upward climb it was -with a feeling, almost a conviction, that all she had done in the last -few days--the flight to Isle Royale, her hours about the cabin stove, the -climb up this ridge, her discovery of Lost Lake and that mysterious -D.X.123--was somehow a part of that which she had left behind with -Florence in Chicago. - -"I can't see how it could be," she murmured, "yet somehow I feel this is -true." - - -That same evening in Miss Mabee's studio an interesting experiment was in -progress. Made desperate by her terrifying experiences in that tenth -floor "retreat" of Madame Zaran and Professor Alcapar, and quite -convinced that the beautiful June Travis was in great danger, Florence -had resolved to use every possible means to discover the whereabouts of -June's father and bring him back. - -"Gone ten years!" Doubt whispered to her, "He's dead; he must be." Yet -faith would not allow her to believe this. - -She had put herself in touch with June's home and had secured permission -to invite her to the studio. When June arrived, she found not only -Florence, but the young psychologist, Rodney Angel, and Tum Morrow. Tum -had his violin. - -"The point is," the psychologist launched at once into the business at -hand, "you, June Travis, wish to find your father. If you can recall some -of your surroundings while you were with him, we may be able to locate -those surroundings, and through them some friend who may know at least -which way he went. - -"Now," he said in a tone of perfect ease, "we are here together, four -friends in this beautiful studio. Our friend Tum is going to give us some -music. Do you like waltz time?" - -"I adore it." - -"Waltz time," he nodded to Tum. - -"While he plays," he went on, "we shall sit before the open fire, and -that should remind you of Christmas, stockings and all that. I'm going to -ask you to think back as far as you can, Christmas by Christmas. That -should not be hard. Perhaps last Christmas was a glad one because all -your friends were present, the one before that sad because some treasured -one was gone. Think back, back, back, and let us see if we cannot at last -arrive at the last one you spent with your father." - -"Oh!" The look on June's face became animated. "I--I'll try hard." - -"Not too hard. Just let your thoughts flow back, like a stream. Now, Tum, -the music." - -For ten minutes there was no sound save the sweet, melodious voice of -Tum's violin. - -"Now," whispered the psychologist, "think! Last Christmas? Was it glad or -sad?" - -"Glad." - -"And the one before?" - -"Glad." - -"And the one before that?" - -"Sad." - -So they went on back through the years until with some hesitation the -girl said once more, "Sad." - -"Why?" the psychologist asked quickly. - -"I wanted a doll. I had always had a new doll for Christmas. The lady -gave me no doll." - -"But who always gave you a doll at Christmas?" In the young -psychologist's eye shone a strange light. - -"A man, a short, jolly man." - -"And the last doll he gave you had golden hair?" He leaned forward -eagerly. - -"No. The hair was brown. The doll's eyes opened and shut." - -"So you opened its eyes and said, 'See the fire!'" - -"No. I took the doll to the window and said, 'See the tower.'" - -"What sort of tower?" The air of the room grew tense, yet the girl did -not know it. - -"A brownstone tower. A round tower with a round flat roof of stone. There -was a bell in the tower that rang and rang on Christmas Eve." - -"Could you draw it?" He pressed pencil and paper into her hand. She made -a crude drawing, then held it up to him. - -"It will do," he breathed. "Now, one more question. What kind of a house -was it you lived in then?" - -"A red brick house--square and a little ugly." - -"Fine! Wonderful!" Rodney Angel relaxed. "I know that tower. There is -only one such in all Chicago-land. It was built before the Civil War. It -is a college tower. I doubt if there is more than one red brick house -within sight of it. If there is not, then that is where you lived. And if -you lived there, we will be able to find someone who knew that short, -stout, jolly man who was your father." - -"My father!" the girl cried, "No! It can't be! He is tall, slim and -dignified." - -"Do you know that to be a fact?" The young man stared. - -"I saw him in the crystal ball." - -"Oh!" Rodney heaved a sigh of relief. "Well, perhaps your father is -subject to change without notice. We shall see. - -"And now--" he turned a smiling face to Florence. "How about another cup -of coffee and just another piece of pie, or perhaps two?" - -"To think!" June looked at the young psychologist with unconcealed -admiration. "You helped me do what I have never been able to do before. -You made me think back to those days when I was with my father!" - -"Some day," Rodney said thoughtfully, "people will begin to understand -the working of their own minds. And what a grand day that will be! - -"In the meantime," he smiled a bright smile, "if you girls have had any -dreams you don't quite understand, bring them to little old Rodney. He'll -do his best to unravel them. - -"Now," he sighed, "how about the pie?" - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - FROM OUT THE PAST - - -In the meantime, Jeanne, having returned from her little voyage of -discovery on Isle Royale, was learning something of life as it went -forward at Chippewa Harbor. Here, on the shores of a little cove, Holgar -Carlson, a sturdy Scandinavian fisherman, had his home. There were four -children; two girls, Violet and Vivian, about the same age as Jeanne, and -two small boys. From November until April no boats visit the island. It -would be difficult to picture a more completely isolated spot. And yet -Violet and Vivian, who were to be Jeanne's companions, were never -lonesome. They had their duties and their special interests which kept -them quite fully employed. And, had they but known it, the coming of -Jeanne meant mystery and unusual discoveries. - -"Discovery." Ah, yes, to Vivian, the younger and more active of the two -sisters, this was one grand word. On this unusual island she had made -many a discovery. - -"This," she was saying to Jeanne with the air of one about to display -rich treasures, "is our curiosity shop. Not everyone who comes to -Chippewa Harbor gets a peek in here." - -After removing a heavy padlock she swung wide a massive door of varnished -logs. - -"You see," she explained as Jeanne's eyes wandered from one article to -another displayed on the shelves of the narrow room, "each article here -has something to do with the history of Isle Royale." - -"Only look!" Jeanne exclaimed. "Arrowheads and spear points of copper! A -gun--such an old looking one! A pistol, too, and a brass cannon. Some -very queer axes! Did you find them all by yourself?" she asked in -surprise. - -"Oh, my, no!" Vivian laughed. "They come from all over the island. -Fishermen are constantly finding things. Some were found where long lost -villages have been, or around deserted mines. Then, too, some were taken -up in nets." - -"In nets?" Jeanne's voice showed astonishment. - -"You'd be surprised!" Vivian's face glowed. She had something truly -interesting to tell. - -"We set our nets close to the lake bottom. Sometimes the water is deep, -sometimes shallow, but always the net is on the bottom. Storms come and -bring things rolling in. The waves work heavy objects over our nets. If a -net is strong enough, when it is lifted, up they come. - -"And not so easily either!" she amended. "Sometimes it takes a lot of -pulling and hauling. Not so fine when it's freezing on shore and snow is -blowing in your eyes. If you get a log in your net, all water soaked, and -so long you never see both ends of it if you work for an hour, then the -net slips from your half-frozen fingers, and it's just too bad! The net -is gone forever. - -"Look." She put a hand on some hard mass that rested on the lower shelf. -"We brought that up in our net." - -"What is it?" Jeanne asked. - -"Lift it." Vivian smiled. - -Lightly Jeanne grasped it. Then she let out a low exclamation. "Whew! How -heavy!" - -"Eighty pounds," said Vivian, not without a show of pride. "Solid copper. - -"You see," she went on, allowing her eyes to sweep the place, "it is just -this that has made me realize that history and geography are not just -dull things to be studied and forgotten. When father brought in that mass -of copper, I wanted to know all about it, how it got there and all that. - -"Well," she sighed, "I didn't find out everything, because no one seems -to know whether it was put in its present form by the grinding of -glaciers or by the heat of a volcano. I did find out a great deal, -though. - -"Then," she hurried on, "one day while I was hoeing in our garden I found -this." She held up a copper spear point. "It belonged to the time when -Indians roamed the island, building huge fires; then cracking away the -rocks, they uncovered copper. I read all I could about that. - -"Then--" she caught her breath. "Then Mr. Tolman over at Rock Harbor gave -me this." She held up a curious sort of pistol. "They called it a -pepper-box. It is more than a hundred years old. Perhaps it belongs to -fur-trading days, perhaps to the beginning of the white copper-hunter. -Anyway, it took me along in my study. And--" - -"And the first thing you knew," Jeanne laughed, "history and geography -had come alive for you." - -"Yes, that's it!" Vivian smiled her appreciation. - -"But look!" Jeanne exclaimed. "What's this? And where did it come from? -Looks as if it had been at the bottom of the sea for a hundred years." - -"Not quite a hundred years perhaps," Vivian said slowly, "and not at the -bottom of the ocean; only Lake Superior. It's an old-fashioned -barrel-churn, and we caught it in a net." - -"How very strange!" Jeanne examined it closely. "It's all screwed up -tight." - -"Yes," said Vivian, "the fastenings are all corroded. You couldn't open -it without tearing it up, I guess. It's empty." She tapped it with the -ancient pistol butt, and it gave forth a hollow sound. "So what's the use -of destroying a fine relic just to get a smell of sour buttermilk fifty -or more years old?" She laughed a merry laugh. - -"But you got it in a net at the bottom of the lake?" Jeanne's face wore a -puzzled look. - -"About fifty feet down." - -"If it's full of air it would float," Jeanne reasoned, "so it can't be -quite empty." - -"Lift it. Shake it," Vivian invited. - -Jeanne complied. "That's queer!" she murmured after shaking the small -copper-bound barrel-churn vigorously. "It's heavy enough to sink, yet it -_does_ appear to be empty." - -As Jeanne lay in her tiny chamber that night with the distant roar of old -Superior in her ears, she found herself confronted with two mysteries. -One was intriguing, the other rather startling and perhaps terrible. The -first was the mystery of the unopened churn, the other that of those -figures and letters with a circle, D.X.123. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - D.X.123 - - -"There it is. Or is it?" Rodney Angel turned enquiring eyes upon June -Travis. They had traveled by the third-rail line twenty miles into the -country. There before them stood a large stone building topped by a -circular tower. Rodney held his breath. If the girl said "No," all this -work had gone for nothing. - -June half closed her eyes. A dreamy expression overspread her face. Once -again she was thinking back, back, back, into the dim, misty realm of her -childhood. - -"Yes," she said quite simply, "yes, that is the tower. I have seen it -before. That must have been when I was very young." - -"Then--" the word was said with a shout of joy. "Then right over there is -the brick house you once lived in with your father." - -"Our house!" Who can describe the emotions that throbbed through June's -being as she looked upon the home of her earliest childhood? - -She was not given long to dream. "Come on," said Rodney. "There is a -little cottage next door to it. Looks as if it were half a century old -and been owned by the same person all the time. That person should be -able to help us." - -"That person" turned out to be a little old dried up man with a hooked -nose. - -"Do I know who lived in the red brick house ten years ago?" He grinned at -Rodney. "Yes, and forty years ago. There was Joe Green and Sam Hicks, -and--" - -"But _ten_ years ago!" Rodney insisted. - -"Oh, yes. Now let me think. It was a--oh, yes! That was John Travis." - -"J--John Travis!" June stammered, fairly overcome with joy. "Oh, Rodney, -you surely are a wonder! - -"Please!" There were tears in her eyes as she turned to the old man. -"Please tell me all about him! He--he is my father." - -"Your father? Yes, so he might be. There was a small child and a woman, a -little old woman that wasn't his wife nor his mother-- - -"But I can't tell you much, miss," he went on, "not a whole lot. He -didn't live here long. Wanderin' sort, he was. A gold prospector, he was. -Made a heap of money at it. Short, jolly sort of man, he was, short and -jolly." - -"See?" Rodney reminded her, "Your memory was O. K." - -"Short and jolly--" June murmured, "I can't understand. In the crystal -ball--" - -The little old man was talking again. "He seemed to like me, this John -Travis. When he went away in an airplane, he--" - -"Airplane!" June breathed. - -"Why, yes, child! Didn't you know? He went in an airplane. He invited me -to the airport. I saw him off. Just such a day as this one, fine and -clear, few white clouds afloatin'. I can see that plane sailin' away. -Recollect the number of it even. It was D.X.123. - -"And they say," he added slowly, "that he never came back!" - -"Wh--where was he going?" June's voice was husky. - -"That's what I don't know. He never told me that." The old man looked -away at the sky as if he would call that airplane back. - -"And that," he added after a time, "is just about all I can tell you." - -That too was all they found out from anyone that day. The other people -living close to the red brick house were recent arrivals. They knew -nothing of John Travis. - -When June, weary and sleepy from travel and excitement, arrived at her -home, she found a telephone number in her letter box. - -"Florence wants me to call," she thought. "Wonder if she's found out -something important. I'll have a cup of tea to get my nerves right. Then -I'll give her a ring." - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - ONE WILD DREAM - - -Jeanne watched a blue and white airplane soar aloft over a lake of pure -blue. Now the plane was two miles away, now one mile, and now--now it was -right over her head. But what was this? A tiny speck appeared beneath the -airplane. It grew and grew. Now it was the size of a walnut, now a -baseball, now a toy balloon, now--but now it was right over her head! It -had fallen from the plane. It was big, big as a small barrel. It would -crush her! - -But no! She would catch it. She put out her hands and caught it easily as -she might have a real toy balloon. - -She looked at it closely. It was a barrel-like affair, an ancient churn. - -"Not heavy at all," she whispered. - -But what was this? She was sinking, going down, down, down. She was in -the lake, sinking, sinking. But that did not appear to matter. She could -breathe easily. The churn was still in her hands when she reached bottom. - -Fishes came to stare at her and at the churn, friendly fishes they -appeared to be. They stood away and stared. - -But now they were gone, scooting away in great fright. A scaly monster -with big staring eyes rushed at her. She screamed, made one wild -rush--then suddenly awoke to find herself sitting up in bed. She had been -dreaming. - -But what bed was this--what place? For one full moment she could not -tell. It was all so very strange! The ceiling was low. There were two -other narrow beds in the room. A large black pipe ran through the center -of the room. The place was cold. She shuddered, then drew the covers over -her. Then, of a sudden, she remembered. She was in a fisherman's cottage -on Isle Royale in Lake Superior. She had come there by airplane with -Sandy, who was to watch men trap wild moose. - -Her real airplane ride was to be a long remembered adventure. To go -sailing over miles and miles of dark blue waters, then to catch sight of -something very white that really was an island but which, at a distance, -looked like a white frosted cake resting on a dark blue tablecloth--oh, -that had given her a real thrill. - -"All that was no dream," she assured herself, "for here are my two good -friends, Vivian and Violet Carlson, sleeping close by me in their own -beds. And that," she decided, "is why I dreamed of an airplane." - -But was it? And what of the barrel-churn? The churn--ah, yes, she -remembered now. Vivian had shown it to her in her curiosity shop. It was -closed tight, all rusted shut, and it had been picked up from the bottom -of the lake in a fisherman's net. - -"But it's heavy," she told herself. "I'd like to know what's inside it, -if anything at all. I'll find out, too. You can make things unscrew, even -if they're terribly rusted, by putting kerosene on them. I've seen father -do that. I'll ask Vivian if I may try to do it, perhaps tomorrow." - -For a moment, lying there listening to the crackling of the fire in the -stove below their room, she felt all comfortable and happy. She was in a -strange little world, a fisherman's world on Isle Royale. Everything was -new and lovely. There were sleds and snowshoes, wild moose to trap, -everything. - -Then of a sudden her brow wrinkled. She had recalled the airplane in that -dream. What did it mean? Then, as in a vision, she saw a circle, and -inside the circle D.X.123. - -"I saw it at the bottom of that little lost lake," she told herself as a -chill ran up her spine. "Anyway, I thought I saw it. And I must know!" -She clenched her hands hard. "I must know for sure! I'll just _make_ -Vivian come there with me. I'll tell her to look down there, ask her to -tell me what she sees, then I'll know for sure whether it is real or only -a sort of day-dream. - -"I must," she whispered, "must--must--must--" - -Once again she was lost to the world, this time to a land of dreamless -sleep. - -When she awoke, Vivian was sitting up in bed. - -"Hello, there!" was Vivian's cheery greeting. "Sleep well?" - -"Fine!" Jeanne laughed. "Everything seems strange, but I love it." - -"Not quite like a city," Vivian agreed, "but we all like it. We seem so -secure. Father earns enough in summer to buy flour, sugar, hams, bacon -and lots of canned stuff, so we won't go hungry. The lake brings us some -wood and the ridges give us plenty more. We won't get cold. So--" - -"So you're safe as a meadow mouse in his hole!" Jeanne said happily. - -A half hour later she was seated at a long table pouring syrup on -steaming pancakes. A sturdy, bronze-faced young man sat at her side. - -"Are you the moose-trapper?" she asked timidly. - -"Why, yes." The young man's hearty laugh reassured her. "Yes, that's what -you might call me. - -"Like to see one trapped?" he asked suddenly. - -"Yes! Oh, yes, I'd love it!" Jeanne cried quickly. - -"All right. You and Vivian come along with me after breakfast. We've -baited the trap with some very tempting birch twigs. We'll watch it from -the ridge above. I shouldn't wonder if we'd get one. Anyway, you'll see -the trap." - -Donning mackinaws and heavy sweaters a half hour later, they crept out -into the frosty air of morning--Jeanne, Vivian, Sandy MacQueen, and the -moose-trapper. - -Snow lay thick everywhere. About the ends of ridges it had been blown -clear, only to be found piled in drifts not far away. In quiet spots it -was soft and deep. Only the use of snowshoes made travel possible. In -silence they marched single file up the rise at the back of the house, -then through a forest of spruce and birch to the barren rocky ridge -above. - -From this vantage point they could see far out over the dark endless -waters of Lake Superior. But this did not interest them. Their eyes were -focused on a narrow stretch of low growing timber almost directly beneath -them. - -"You can't see the corral fence for the trees," the moose-trapper -explained in a whisper. "Only here and there you catch a glimpse of it. -We built a four-foot fence of woven wire at first. But the moose," he -chuckled, "they didn't know it was a fence, so they lifted their long -legs and hopped over the top of it. After that we put poles above the -wire. That worked better. We--" - -"Listen!" Jeanne broke in. "What was that?" Her keen ears had caught some -sound from behind. - -"Might be a moose," Vivian whispered. "It _is_ a moose. Look!" - -"Oh!" Jeanne started back. - -"He won't harm you," Vivian whispered. - -The moose, not a stone's throw away, was trying in vain to reach the -lowest branch of a balsam tree. - -"How huge he is! And such terrible antlers!" Jeanne crowded close to her -companions. - -"He'll be losing those antlers soon," Vivian whispered back. "They grow -new ones every year. He--" - -At that moment the moose, whose keen ear had apparently detected a sound, -made a quick, silent move. Next instant he was gone. - -"He--he vanished like magic!" Jeanne exclaimed. "And with never a sound." - -"Most silent creature in the world." The moose-trapper's voice was low. -"And one of the most harmless. It seems strange that anyone should wish -to kill such an attractive wild thing. And yet, thousands pay large -prices for the privilege of shooting them! It's up to the younger -generations to be less cruel." - -"Girls don't wish to kill wild things," said Jeanne. - -"That's right. Most of them seem to have a high regard for the life of -all creatures," the moose-trapper agreed. "They have their part to do, -though. They can teach the boys of their own neighborhood and especially -their own brothers to be more humane. We-- - -"Look!" he exclaimed. The quality of his whisper changed. "Down there is -the trap. See that large square made of boards that seem to hang in the -air?" - -"Yes, yes!" Jeanne replied eagerly. - -"That's the door to the trap. The moose springs the trap. You see there's -a narrow corral. It's half full of birch and balsam boughs. The moose -smells these. He is hungry. He goes through the door, munches away at the -branches, at last pulls at one. This drags at a string and down goes the -door. He's a prisoner. - -"But a _happy_ prisoner," he hastened to add. "There are ten moose in the -big corral. When we got them they were little more than skin and bones. -Now they are getting fat. We feed them well." - -It is doubtful if Jeanne heard more than half that was said. Her eyes -were upon a brown creature that moved slowly through the thin forest -below. "He's going toward the trap--our moose," she was saying to -herself. "Now he's only fifty yards away. And now he walks still faster. -He's smelled the bait in the trap. He-- - -"What will happen to those who are trapped?" she asked quite suddenly. - -"Probably be taken to a game sanctuary on the mainland where there's -plenty of moose feed," the trapper said. - -"Oh!" Jeanne whispered. "Then I hope we get him." - -"Looks as if we might." The moose-trapper's face shone with hope. "He's -the finest specimen we've seen yet." - -Moments passed, moments that were packed with suspense. Now the great -brown creature stood sniffing at the entrance to the trap. Now he -advanced a step or two. Now he thrust out his nose in a vain attempt to -reach a branch that was inside. Jeanne laughed low. He surely cut a -comical picture, long legs, extended neck, bulging eyes. - -Another step, two, three, four, five. - -"He--he's inside!" Jeanne breathed. - -Yes, the moose was inside. He was munching twigs and small branches, yet -nothing happened. The suspense continued. Would he satisfy his hunger and -leave without springing the trap? Jeanne studied the moose-trapper's -face. She read nothing there. - -Of a sudden the moose, seeming to grow impatient of his small twigs, -reached far out for a large balsam bough, and bang!--the trap was sprung. - -Startled, the moose sprang forward. Next instant he was racing madly -about the small enclosure. Almost at once an opening appeared and he -dashed through it to disappear from sight. "He--he's gone!" Jeanne -exclaimed. - -"Only into the larger corral." The moose-trapper chuckled. "He'll find a -number of old friends there. They will tell him they've found a good -boarding place. Soon he will be as happy as any of them. And say!" he -cried, "What a grand big fellow he is! Jeanne, I believe you have brought -good luck with you." - -"I--I hope so." Jeanne beamed. - -That bright winter's day passed all too soon. At times Jeanne thought of -asking Vivian to accompany her to the top of the ridge and down to the -little lost lake, but always she was busy with household duties. Night -found the request lingering unexpressed on her lips. - -"Darkness fell on the wings of night." - -Lamps were lit, kerosene lamps that gave forth a steady yellow glow. -Pulpwood logs, gathered from the shore where they were stranded, roared -and crackled in the great stove. - -Jeanne sat dreaming by the fire. Not all her dreams were happy ones. One -thought haunted her: she must take Vivian to that little lost lake. What -would she see? What would she? - -Jeanne was asking herself this question when her thoughts were caught and -held by a conversation between the young airplane pilot who had flown -them to the island and Sandy MacQueen, the reporter. - -"I'd think you could write a whole book about mystery planes," the pilot -suggested. - -"Mystery planes?" Sandy sat up straight. - -"Yes," the pilot replied. "Planes that have flown away into the blue and -just vanished. There have been several, you know." His tone was earnest. -"During the war there were aces of the air that vanished. What happened? -Did they grow sick of the terror of war and just fly away? - -"There have been several in recent years," he went on. "One started for -Central America, the X.Z.43. Nothing was ever heard of it. One headed for -Japan, the B.L.92. And then there was the D.X.123. Queer about that!" - -"The D.X.123!" Jeanne whispered the words. She wanted to scream them. She -said nothing out loud, just sat there staring. D.X.123! Those were the -letters and figures she had seen down at the bottom of the lost lake. Or, -_had_ she seen them? Had she just imagined them? Had she seen them in a -paper and was this only an after-image? - -She wanted to ask the pilot what happened to the D.X.123. She could not. -At last she rose from her place. - -"I--I'm going for a little walk," she said. "All alone. I won't get lost. -I'll watch the light from the house. It will guide me back." - -The crisp night air was like ice on a hot summer day to her burning -cheeks. Her mind was full of wild thoughts. How strange life was! - -Then she looked up at the heavens. The stars were there, had been there -since earliest history of man, and long before that. Back of the stars -was God. And God was from everlasting to everlasting. - -"God guide me aright!" she prayed reverently. - -So she wandered on and on over the trail that ran up the ridge and led to -a view of the great Lake Superior. She wanted to see the moon as it shone -upon the dark waters of night. - -She was not destined to have her wish. Suddenly as she rounded that clump -of spruce trees, she heard a groan that sent a chill of terror coursing -up her spine. - -Turning quickly about, she saw, not ten paces behind her, the most -gigantic moose that had ever lived, or so it seemed to her. His antlers -were like broad flat beams and his eyes, as she threw her flashlight's -glow upon them, shone like fire. - -"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Go back! Go back!" But the giant moose came -straight on. - - - - - CHAPTER XX - SOME CONSIDERABLE TREASURE - - -June Travis felt her hand tremble as she took down the receiver to call -Florence. "Whose hand would not tremble?" she asked herself. And indeed -the events of the past few days had been exciting. Now Florence had left -word to call her. "Something very important to talk about!" That was her -message. - -"Hello! Hello!" she heard. "Yes, this is Florence. - -"Oh, June, the strangest things do happen!" she exclaimed. "You remember -that little story I wrote about your lost father?" - -"Yes. I--" - -"Well, today while I was out, a little lady in gray called at the office. -Frances Ward talked to her. And was she mysterious! Wanted to talk to me, -no one else. After that, she said she would talk to you, or to both of us -at once. Had something tremendously important to tell you. It--it's about -your father." - -"Oh!" June gasped. - -"Of course--" the voice at the other end of the line dropped. "Of course, -you must not expect too much. She said something about mind-reading, -mental telepathy and all that. She may be just one more fortune teller. -But somehow I can't help but feel that she isn't. She lives in quite an -exclusive section of the city. Mrs. Ward says she wouldn't be allowed to -put out a sign in that section. And what's a fortune teller without a -sign? So--" - -"Oh, I'm all excited!" June thrilled. - -"Well, you mustn't be--at least not too much. Tomorrow I've got to go -after something else. Remember that gypsy fortune teller who stole four -hundred dollars? I've got to find her." - -"But won't that be terribly dangerous?" June's voice wavered. - -"Danger? What is danger?" Florence laughed. "Anyway, it's part of my job. -I really haven't accomplished much yet. Been drawing my pay all the time. -Perhaps this will be a scoop." - -As you shall see, it was a "scoop" in more ways than one. - - -If Florence was anticipating trouble, Jeanne, on far-away Isle Royale, -was in the midst of it at that very moment. - -Who can describe Jeanne's fright as she turned about on the wintry trail -to look into the gleaming eyes of a giant moose? She expected nothing -less than a wild snorting charge from the monster. - -And where should she go? To swing about and dash back over the trail was -impossible. The way was too narrow. To go forward meant that she would -come at last to the brink of a rocky precipice. At the foot of this -precipice, piled up by an early winter storm, were great jagged masses of -ice. - -"Go back!" she screamed at the top of her voice. "Go back!" - -But the moose did not go back. Instead he lowered his great antlers, took -three steps forward, then after opening his great mouth and, allowing an -apparently endless tongue to roll about, he let forth a most terrific -roar. - -To say that Jeanne was frightened would be not to express her feelings at -all. She was fairly paralyzed with fear. - -As if this were not enough, her startled eyes caught some further -movement in the brush that grew to the right of the trail. As her -trembling fingers directed the light of her torch there, a second smaller -pair of eyes gleamed at her, then another and yet another. - -"Wolves--bush wolves!" Her heart sank to the depths of despair. - -She raced forward in a mad hope of finding foothold for descending the -cliff that led down to the lake's shore. She caught the magnificent -picture of dark waters white with racing foam, a path of gold that was -moonlight, and beyond that, limitless night. Then a strange thing -happened. The giant moose, having given vent to a second roar, took one -more step forward; then stumbling, fell upon his knees. - -Strangest of all, he did not rise at once. Instead, as if the great -weight of his towering antlers were too much for him to bear, he allowed -his head to drop forward until his broad nose rested on the ground. For -one full moment he remained thus. - -As for Jeanne, she raced on to the edge of the precipice. Instantly she -shrank back. Surely here was no way of escape. A sheer drop of fifty -feet, and beneath that, up-ended fragments of ice standing like bayonets -waiting for one who might drop. This was what met her gaze. - -Strangely enough, in the midst of all this terror, the glorious -scene--limitless water, golden moon and night, so gripped her that for -the instant her mind was filled with it. - -"The heavens declare the glory of God," she murmured. - -Perhaps it was just this consciousness of the nearness of God and the -glory of His world that quieted her soul and gave her the power to see -things as they truly were. - -As she turned back from the precipice, she saw the moose struggling to -regain his feet. "Until he is up again, he is harmless," she assured -herself. Having thrown her light full upon him, she cried out in -surprise. - -"Why! The poor fellow! He is like a walking skeleton! He must be -starving!" - -Like a flash all was changed. Fear gave way to pity and desire to aid. -She recalled the moose-trapper's words: "We think they are -underfed--perhaps starving." Here was one who had failed to find food. -How could she help him? - -For a moment she could not think. Then it came to her that the food in -the moose-trap was branches of white birch, mountain-ash and balsam. -Close to the moose, who still struggled vainly to rise, was a clump of -birch trees. - -"They are small, but the branches are too high for him," she told -herself. "If I cut down the one that leans toward him, it will almost -touch him. If I do--" - -She hesitated. At her belt hung a small axe in a sheath. Dared she use -it? Could she take the dozen steps toward that moose and wield her axe -upon that tree with a steady hand? Her heart pounded painfully. Then, as -if whispered in her ear, there came to her, "He notes the sparrow's -fall." - -There was no further hesitation. Gripping her axe, she advanced boldly. -As she did so, the moose gave vent to one more terrifying roar. But -Jeanne scarcely heard. She had formed a purpose. It should be carried -out. - -Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Her axe sounded out in the silent night. Came a -cracking sound. The small tree swayed, then went down. The top branches -switched the great beast's nose. He did not appear to mind, but, reaching -out, began eating greedily. - -"There!" Jeanne breathed. "Now we'll do one more for good measure." - -A second tree tottered to a fall; then, still gripping her axe, Jeanne -sped on the wings of the wind toward the cabin where the lamp still sent -out its inviting gleam. - -One sound gave speed to her swift feet. The blood-curdling howl of a bush -wolf was answered by another and yet another. - -"I'll fix those wolves!" Mr. Carlson exclaimed as Jeanne, five minutes -later, in excited words told her story. Taking down his rifle, he -disappeared into the dark outside. Shortly after there came the short -quick crack-crack-crack of a rifle. After that the night was silent. - -"That moose," said Violet, the quiet, studious sister of Vivian, who took -an especial pleasure in watching all manner of wild creatures, "must have -been Old Black Joe. We called him that," she laughed, "because he was -almost black, and because he was so old. - -"How he does love apples!" She laughed again. - -"Yes, and you fed him almost half a bushel!" said Vivian reprovingly. "As -if there were apple trees on Isle Royale. - -"We had to buy them," she explained to Jeanne. "Brought them all the way -from Houghton." - -"But think what I got out of it in the end!" Violet reminded her sister. - -"Yes," Vivian agreed. - -"You see," Violet explained enthusiastically, "Old Black Joe got so tame -after I had fed him a peck of apples, one at a time, that he'd follow me -about like a pet lamb. And oh, the noises he'd make way down in his -throat asking for more apples! - -"Then one day a man came here to get pictures of wild life. Old Black Joe -and I put on a real show for him. I didn't quite ride the old fellow's -back, but I did almost. The picture came out fine. When the man left he -gave me a whole twenty dollar bill for our boat. Wasn't that grand?" - -"Depends on how good a boat it was," said Jeanne. - -"We haven't the boat yet. We're saving for it," said Violet. - -Jeanne looked puzzled. "I thought you sold him a boat for twenty -dollars." - -"Oh, no!" Violet laughed merrily. "He gave that money to us so we could -apply it on the boat we are going to buy. But of course," Violet paused. -"You wouldn't understand. For quite a long time Vivian and I have been -saving up to buy a boat, a smart little motor boat we can use for taking -people on picnics, fishing trips and cruising parties. You saw the cabins -at the foot of the hill. Tourists come to the island and rent them in -summer. Vivian and I could help father out with the family expenses if we -had a boat." - -"And next year we want to go to high school on the mainland," Vivian put -in. - -"We've got nearly sixty dollars," Violet concluded, "but of course that's -not nearly enough." - -For a moment there was silence in the room. Then Violet said, "If that -really is Old Black Joe, we must manage to get him into the corral. There -are a few apples left. I'll just lead him right in." - -"Y-yes," drawled the moose-trapper, "and after he's in, you'll have to -feed him. He's so old he's almost sure to die on our hands. What we're -after is good live young moose that will stand shipping." - -"All right! All right, sir! We'll feed him!" the girls agreed as with one -voice. "And you'll see. He'll be the prize picture of the big show in the -spring." - - -Jeanne did not go over Greenstone Ridge and down to her Lost Lake next -morning. It was a day of wild storm. The wind whistled and sang about the -cabin. The spruce trees swayed and sighed. The wind, like a white sheet, -rose and fell as it swept across the frozen surface of the harbor. - -Despite all this, the three girls hunted up Old Black Joe. He had fallen -asleep beneath a cluster of cedars. Had the girls not found him, this -sleep might well have been his last. As it was, only by eager coaxing and -reluctant flogging were they able at last to usher him into the trap that -was in truth a haven. - -"There!" Vivian exclaimed. "Now we have let ourselves in for a winter's -work. That moose-trapper does not like bringing in boughs any too well. -He'll surely hold us to our bargain." - -"But I'm sure poor Old Black Joe needs a friend," said Jeanne. - -"And he'll pay us back, you'll see!" said the sentimental Violet. "Don't -forget that line about casting your bread on the waters." - -"We'll cast our brush on the snow," Vivian laughed, "but it's really all -the same." - -When they were back at the cabin and well thawed out, Jeanne found -herself thinking once more of the mysterious airplane, D.X.123, that had -vanished, and the strange coincidence of her seeing those signs at the -bottom of Lost Lake. Soon she found herself brooding over the possible -discoveries she might make in the very near future. - -"This won't do!" she told herself stoutly. "Surely dread has spoiled many -a fine life, and more often than not there is really nothing to be -feared." - -To clear her mind of this dark shadow, she began searching about for some -bright dream when, with a mental "I have it!" she sprang to her feet. She -had thought of the ancient churn. "Another mystery," she told herself, -"and this will be a joyous one, I feel sure." - -She went in search of Vivian and, to her vast astonishment, found her -cooped up in a tiny room heated by an oil stove. Over the girl's head a -pair of ear-phones were tightly clamped. By the expression on her face, -Jeanne knew her to be so absorbed as to be completely lost to the world. - -For a full five minutes Jeanne stood patiently waiting. Then, with a -start, Vivian looked her way. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "I didn't know you -were there." - -"But what are you doing?" Jeanne asked. "There is a radio in the living -room. Surely you don't have to--" - -"Coop myself up in here to listen?" Vivian put in. "No. But this is not -just a receiving radio. It is a radio station; short wave. We are -licensed to send messages free of charge. And we _do_ send them." Her -eyes shone with pride. "We are the only station on the island. We saved a -boy's life by calling a doctor from the mainland. We called for the coast -guard when a hydroplane crashed on Rock Harbor. Oh, yes, and we've done -much more. But now, I was about to get off a message telling of the moose -trap. You see, we're the radio news reporter for this corner of the -world." - -"I'm sorry I disturbed you," Jeanne apologized. "It must be fascinating." - -"But Vivian," she changed the subject, "do you mind if I look at the -things in your museum?" - -"No. Here's the key." - -"And Vivian--I--" Jeanne hesitated, "I'd like to try opening that old -churn." - -"Whatever for?" Vivian exclaimed. - -"Just a feeling about it." - -"All right. But you won't break anything?" - -"Not a thing." Jeanne took the key and hurried away, little dreaming that -the short wave station she had just seen was to have a large part in the -mystery drama that was to be played by the inhabitants of Chippewa Harbor -on Isle Royale, in the days that were to come. - -Armed with a bottle of kerosene and a small knife, Jeanne slipped into -the "museum" and closed the door. It was a wintry spot, that small room, -but warmed by her enthusiasm, she began her task without one shiver. Soon -she was scraping away at the corroded metal clasps, applying kerosene, -scraping again. - -For a long time there was not the least sign of success. She was all but -ready to give up when, as her stout young hands turned at one screw it -gave forth the faintest sort of squeak. - -"Oh, you will!" she breathed exultantly. Then she redoubled her efforts. - -At the end of another half hour that one clamp was entirely loose. Three -others remained. Another half hour and, quite suddenly, as if resistance -were no longer possible, two clamps loosened at once. "Oh!" she breathed. -"Now I have you!" - -This was true, for once three clamps were loosed, the cover could be -removed. Here she paused. Though an only child, Jeanne had never been -selfish. She had always shared her joys, whenever possible. She was about -to open a thing that had been closed for half a century or more. What -would she find? "A whiff of sour buttermilk," as Vivian had prophesied? -If more than this, what then? - -"A laugh or a secret is always better when shared," she told herself. - -Opening the door, she called softly, "Girls! Come here!" - -When Vivian and Violet had entered she closed the door. "See!" she said -in the most mysterious of tones. "It's done like this. You turn this -screw, then that one. Now this one, now that one, and, presto! It's -open." - -It was true the churn smelled of sour buttermilk, and such a sourness as -it was! This was not all, however. Wedged into the churn so it could not -possibly be shaken about was some heavy object. - -"It's copper!" Vivian exclaimed. "A lump of pure native copper taken from -the rocks here on the island. How strange!" - -"Look!" Jeanne whispered. "Here, tucked away in a crevice of the copper, -is a bit of paper." - -"A note! It's written on!" Violet cried. - -As Jeanne's trembling fingers unfolded it, at the very center of a small -page filled with writing, her eyes caught three words that stood out like -mountain peaks. The words were: Some considerable treasure. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - BATTLE ROYAL - - -"Why can't people take care of their money?" It was on that same -afternoon that Florence found herself asking this question. There was a -scowl on her brow as she journeyed slowly toward the home of Margaret -DeLane, the widow who had been robbed by a gypsy fortune teller. "Some -people are so stupid they don't deserve any help," she was thinking as -she studied the faces about her on the street car. Stolid and stupid they -surely appeared to be. "Not an attractive face among them all. They--" - -She broke off to stifle a groan. The woman she sat next to was large. -This had crowded her half into the aisle. A second woman, in passing, had -stepped on her foot. Instead of appearing sorry about it, the woman -grinned as if to say, "Ha! Ha! Big joke!" - -"Big joke!" Florence thought grimly. "Life's a big joke, and the joke's -always on me." Life had not seemed so joyous since Jeanne had gone away. -It is surprising that the absence of one person can mean so much to us. - -The street car came to a jerking halt. "My street." She was up and off -the car. - -Her street, and such a street as it was! Narrow and dirty, its sidewalks -were lined with ugly, blank-faced, staring frame buildings that appeared -to shout insults at her. She trudged on. - -At last she came to the worst building of them all, and there on the -front was her number. - -Following instructions, she came at last to a side door. Having knocked, -she was admitted at once by a dark-haired girl. This girl, who might have -been twelve, wore an apron pinned about her neck. The apron touched the -floor. - -"Does Mrs. DeLane live here?" Florence asked. - -"Yes, that's my mother, and I am Jane," said the girl. "No, she isn't -here. She's out scrubbing. She'll be back very soon. Won't you sit down?" - -The child was so polite, the place was so neat and clean, that Florence -felt as though the sun had suddenly burst through a cloud. - -Two younger children were playing at keeping house in a corner. How -beautiful and bright they were! Their eyes, their hair, even their simple -cotton garments fairly shone. - -"And this," thought Florence, swallowing hard, "is what Margaret DeLane -lives for." - -Then suddenly her spirits rose. "Why, this is what we all live for, the -little children!" she thought. "We all at times are foolish. Many of us -break the law. Few of us who are older deserve a great deal of sympathy. -It's the children, poor little innocent ones, who are too young to do any -wrong--they are the ones who suffer. - -"And they must not!" she thought with sudden fierceness. "They must not. -We must find that gypsy robber and get that money back!" - -As if in answer to this fierce resolve, the door opened and in walked -Margaret DeLane. - -"It was that I wanted to do so much!" the woman all but sobbed as she -told her story. "Mrs. Doyle, two doors away, asked a fortune teller how -she should invest her money. She said, 'Buy a house.' Mrs. Doyle bought a -house, one of the worst in the city. Someone wanted the land for what -they called 'slum clearance,' and Mrs. Doyle doubled her money. So--" - -"So you asked a gypsy woman what to do with your money, and she stole -it?" Florence sighed. "Well, we've got to go and find that gypsy woman -and get the money back. It will be difficult. It may be dangerous. Are -you ready?" - -"Ready?" The weary woman reached for her coat. "But you?" She held back. -"Why should you--" - -"Oh, that's part of my job." Florence forced a laugh. "It's all in a -day's work. So--come on." - -They were away, but not until Florence had placed upon the walls of her -memory a picture of three smiling children's faces. "These," she thought, -"shall be my inspiration, come what may!" - -Their search for the gypsy was rewarded with astonishing speed. Scarcely -had they rounded a corner to enter noisy and crowded Maxwell Street than -the widow DeLane gripped Florence's arm to whisper, "There! There she is! -That's her." - -Florence found herself staring at a dark and evil face. The woman was -powerfully built. There was about her a suggestion of crouching. "Like -some great cat," Florence thought as a chill ran up her spine. - -That the woman resembled a cat in other ways was at once apparent. With -feline instinct, she sensed danger without actually seeing it. Standing, -with her eyes turned away, she gave a sudden start, wheeled half about, -took one startled look, then glided, with all the agility of a cat, -through the crowd. - -Florence might not be as sly as the gypsy, but she was powerful, and she -could stick to a purpose. With the widow close at her heels, she crowded -between a thin man and a fat woman, pushed an astonished peddler of -roasted chestnuts into the street, hurdled a low rack lined with cheap -shoes, knocked over a table piled high with cheap jewelry, to at last -arrive panting before a door that had just been closed by the gypsy. - -"Locked!" She set her teeth tight. "What's one lock more or less?" Her -stout shoulder hit the door. - -Quite taken by surprise by the suddenness of her success in breaking open -the door, she lost her balance and tumbled into the room, landing flat on -the floor. - -She had tumbled before, many, many times. In fact, she could tumble more -times per minute than anyone in her gym class. Locks and tumbles were not -new to her. She was on her feet and ready for battle in ten split -seconds. - -The gypsy woman was not slow. The widow had followed Florence into the -room. There came a glitter of steel as the gypsy sprang at her. - -But not so fast! As the gypsy's arm swung high, Florence caught it from -behind, gave it a sudden wrench that brought forth a groan, then shook it -as a dog shakes a rat, until the needle-pointed stiletto gripped in the -murderous gypsy's hand flew high and wide to sink into the heart of a -gaudy dancing girl hanging in a frame on the wall. - -Whirling about just in time to save herself from the grip of five girls -in gypsy costumes who swarmed at her, Florence sprang towards them to -scatter them as a turkey might scatter a bevy of pigeons. - -Meanwhile the distracted widow had dashed from the room, screaming, -"Police! Police!" - -Deprived of her deadly weapon, the gypsy woman did what harm she could -with tooth and nail. This lasted just long enough for Florence to receive -two ugly scratches down her right cheek. Then the dark-faced one found -herself lying flat upon her back with one hundred and sixty pounds of -Florence seated on her chest. - -"Now--now rest easy," Florence breathed, "un--until the police come." - -"I didn't take it!" the woman panted. "I didn't take the money. I--I'll -give it back. Let me up. I'll get it back for you. I--" - -At that moment there was a stir at the door and there stood Officer -Patrick Moriarity. - -"Oh! So it's you!" He grinned at Florence. "They told me someone was -being killed. But if it's you doin' the killin', it's O. K. You wouldn't -kill nobody that didn't need killin'." - -Patrick's young sisters had attended Florence's playground classes in the -good days that were gone. More often than was really necessary, Patrick -had looked in to see how they were getting on. - -Now, with a grin, he said, "I'll just be toddlin' along." - -"You'll not!" said Florence in sudden fright. "This woman stole four -hundred dollars. You've got to do something about it." - -"Only four hundred?" Patrick whistled through his teeth. "Why bother her? - -"But then," he added as a sort of afterthought, "we might take her to the -station. She'll get four years. These gypsies like a nice soft spot in -jail." - -The woman let out an unearthly wail, then struggled in vain to free -herself. - -"She told me," Florence said quietly, "that if I'd let her up she'd give -me the money." - -"She did?" Patrick studied the walls of the room. "Door and both windows -right here in front," he reflected. "I think we might try it out. Let her -up, and we'll see." - -Once on her feet, the woman was not slow in digging deep among the folds -of her ample skirts and extracting a roll of bills. - -"Let's see!" Patrick took it from her. "Ten--twenty--forty--" he counted. - -"But say!" he ended, "it's four hundred and ten! How come?" - -"The ten is mine," the gypsy grumbled. - -"Fair enough," said Patrick. "Your man got a car?" - -The woman nodded sulkily. - -"All right. Now you take this ten and buy gas with it. Turn that old car -south and keep it going until the gas is gone. And if I see your face -again on Maxwell Street--" He made the sign of handcuffs. "Mostly honest -people live on Maxwell Street. You don't belong here. Scram! _Scram!_" He -gave her a sturdy push. - -The woman was gone before Florence could think twice. - -Patrick turned to Florence. "And now, when do I sign you up as a lady -cop?" - -"Never! Oh, never!" Florence fingered her bleeding cheek. "Do--do you -think she's poisonous?" - -"No, not very poisonous." Patrick smiled. "Just a little antiseptic will -fix that up, fine an' dandy. But really," he added, "you should carry a -piece of lead pipe or maybe a gun. You can't tell what they'll do to -you--you really can't." - -"I'm staying on the Boulevard from now on." The big girl's tone carried -little conviction. Truth was, she knew she would do nothing of the sort. - -"Well, anyway," she said to Frances Ward two hours later, "the widow got -her money back. I got a story, and those three cute kids will get a fine -break for months to come. And after all," she added soberly, "it's for -the children, the little children, I did it. Everything we do is for -them." - -"Yes." Frances Ward wiped her glasses with a shaking hand. "Yes, it is -always for the little children." - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - LITTLE LADY IN GRAY - - -"Read it! Read it aloud!" Vivian Carlson insisted as Jeanne still stood -staring at the three magic words, SOME CONSIDERABLE TREASURE, that stood -out at the center of the note they had found in the ancient churn. - -"Al--alright, I will." With considerable effort Jeanne pulled herself -together. She was all atremble, as who would not be if he had succeeded -in unscrewing the fastenings of an ancient churn, lost half a century, to -find inside, as it seemed, a message from the dead? - -"I, Josiah Grier," she read in a low, tense voice, "am obliged to leave -this cabin on the island. It is the dead of winter. I have but a small -boat. However, because wild creatures have consumed my supplies, I must -endeavor to reach the mainland. In this churn will be found a sample of -such copper as abounds on this island. Be it known to any who open this -churn that there is on the island _some considerable treasure_. It is to -be found on the Greenstone Ridge at the far side, in a grotto which may -be found by lining up the outstanding rocks off shore with the highest -point of the ridge." - -"Some considerable treasure!" Violet breathed softly. "Jewels and gold -hidden there by lake pirates perhaps." - -"Or old silver plate smuggled here from Canada," Jeanne suggested. She -loved ancient dishes and silver. - -"Probably it's nothing you'd ever dream of," said practical Vivian. "A -curious sort of treasure I'd guess, for this Josiah Grier, if I guess -right, was a queer sort of chap. Think of hiding a piece of copper worth -about two dollars and a half in an old churn!" - -"What time do you suppose he could have belonged to?" Violet asked -thoughtfully. "Was he a trader when the Indians owned the island, or a -white copper miner of a later time?" - -"Must have had a cow," Vivian suggested. "Churns go with cows. There were -cows here in the copper days. Plenty of grass was planted for them. There -is timothy and clover growing wild today, everywhere." - -Needless to say the minds of the three girls were rife with speculation. -There in the chilly seclusion of the museum they pledged one another to -complete secrecy regarding the whole matter. - -They screwed the churn's top back and replaced everything, leaving the -place just as Jeanne had found it that morning when she had gone in to -work with kerosene on the rusty fastenings of the old churn. - -"We'll surprise 'em," Violet whispered. - -"Surprise them. Surprise them," the others echoed. - -It was in the midst of the evening conversation about the roaring fire -that, for the time at least, all thoughts of treasure were driven from -Jeanne's mind. - -"It's strange about that airplane, D.X.123," Sandy MacQueen, the -reporter, drawled. "I had a sharp reminder of its disappearance only last -month. Sad thing it was, and rather haunting. A girl with an appealing -face, not sixteen yet I'd say, came into the big room of our newspaper -office. Happened I wasn't busy, so I asked her what she wanted. And what -do you suppose it was she wanted?" - -"What?" The moose-trapper sat up to listen. - -"She said her father had gone way several years ago, when she was too -small to remember much about him." - -"What did she have to do with the disappearance of the D.X.123?" the -moose-trapper drawled. - -"Perhaps nothing," Sandy replied. "And yet, it is strange. The name of -one man who went in that apparently ill-fated plane was John Travis." - -"John--John Travis!" Jeanne exclaimed. - -"And you know--" Sandy turned to Jeanne. "That girl Florence got -interested in--her name was Travis too." - -"June Travis," Jeanne agreed. - -"Of course," said Sandy, "it may be a mere coincidence. Yet I sort of -feel that he might have been her father." - -"The D.X.123. June Travis," Jeanne was thinking. "John Travis, D.X.123." -Her mind was in a whirl. Springing to her feet, she seized Vivian by the -shoulders. "Come on," she said in a strange tight little voice, "we're -going for a walk." - -Drawing on their heaviest wraps, the two girls went out into the night. -The storm which had been raging all that day had passed. All about them -as they walked was whiteness and silence. The stars were a million -diamonds set in a cushion of midnight blue. - -They took the trail that led across the narrow entrance to the frozen -bay. From the shore a half mile away came a ceaseless roar. Lashed into -foam by the fury of the storm, the lake's waters were beating against the -barrier of ice that lay before it. - -They walked rapidly forward in silence. Jeanne felt that she would burst -if she did not talk; yet she said never a word. What she wanted to say -was, "Vivian, that girl June Travis is a friend of mine. Her father is -dead. We must send a wireless message to her. I saw her father's airplane -at the bottom of that little lost lake. It must have been there for -years. He must be dead." - -Strangely enough, she said never a word about the matter. An unseen -presence seemed to hover over her, whispering, "Do not say it! Do not say -it! It may not be true." - -Was it true? Jeanne could not tell. - -At last they came to a spot where they might mount to an icy platform and -witness the blind battling of mighty waters against an unbreakable -barrier. - -The moon came out from behind a cloud. Water was black with night and -white with foam. A cavern of ice lay before them. Into this narrow cavern -a giant wave rushed. Its black waters were churned into white foam. It -rose to stretch out a white hand and to utter a hiss that was like the -angry spit of a serpent. In sheer terror Jeanne shrank back. - -"It can't reach us!" Vivian threw back her strong young shoulders and -laughed. - -"Vivian!" Jeanne suddenly gripped her companion's arm. "Do you see that -ridge?" She pointed away toward the island. - -"Yes." - -"Vivian, tomorrow, whether it storms or not, you must go with me to the -top of that ridge and down on the other side." - -"To find the treasure told about in the old churn?" Vivian asked. - -"Oh, no! No!" Jeanne exclaimed in shocked surprise. "It is something more -important than that--far, far more important. - -"And yet--" her voice dropped. "I may not tell you about it now, for, -after all, it may be just nothing." - -At that, with Vivian lost in a haze of stupefaction, she said with a -shudder, "This is too grand--all this beauty of the night, all this surf -line power. Come! We must go back." - -And they did go back to the cheery light, the cozy warmth of the -fisherman's home. - - -In the meantime, in the far-away city Florence was meeting with an -experience well calculated to make her believe in witches, fairies, and -all manner of fantastic fortune telling as well. She and June Travis had -gone to visit the little lady in gray. - -Florence had, after a considerable effort, contacted the little lady. - -"Come to see me any time tomorrow," had been the little lady's -invitation. - -"Some time tomorrow," Florence had agreed. - -So, ten o'clock next morning found Florence and June Travis in the -vicinity of the mysterious little lady's home. - -"It's strange," said Florence as they alighted from the car, "that anyone -interested in telling fortunes should live in such a rich neighborhood." -She allowed her eyes to take in three magnificent apartment buildings and -the smaller homes of pressed brick and rich gray stone that surrounded -them. - -"But then," she added, "I suppose she gets a great many wealthy clients, -and that's what really pays. And, of course, she may not be a fortune -teller after all." - -"It's over this way," June said, paying little heed to her companion's -talk. She was eager to reach the little old lady in gray. Some kind fairy -seemed to be whispering in her ear, "This is the one. You have searched -long. You have traveled far. You have met with many disappointments. But -here at last you are, face to face with reality." - -"Here! Here it is!" she exclaimed in a low whisper. "Such a cute little -cottage, all in gray stone." - -"And no sign on the door." Florence was puzzled more and more. - -June's fingers trembled as she lifted a heavy knocker and let it down -with a bang that was startling. - -For a short time there was no sign of life in the place. Then, somewhere -inside, a door opened and shut. The outer door opened, and there before -them stood the Little Lady in Gray. - -She was little--very small indeed, yet not really a midget. She was quite -gray. And her dress was as gray as her hair. - -"Won't you come in?" she invited. "I have been expecting you for an -hour." - -"That's strange!" Florence thought with a sudden start. "We didn't tell -her when we'd come--just said sometime today." - -"So you are June Travis!" said the little lady. They had been led into -the coziest sitting-room it had ever been Florence's privilege to see. -The little lady looked June up and down, as much as to say, "How you have -grown! And how beautiful you are!" She did not say it. - -Instead, she pointed to a chair, then to another as she suggested, "If -you will kindly sit there, and you there, I shall take this large chair, -then we can talk. It is a little large," she looked at the chair that did -indeed appear to have been made for a person three times her size, "but -with cushions it can be made very comfortable indeed." - -Florence wondered in a dreamy sort of way why so small a person, who -apparently could have anything she wanted, should have chosen so large a -chair. She was destined to recall this wondering a long time after, and -to wonder still more. - -That the little lady _was_ very well off, Florence was bound to conclude. -The curtains were of finest lace and the draperies of rich, heavy -material. The rugs were oriental. The few objects of art--three vases, -four oil paintings and a bronze statue in the corner--had cost a pretty -penny; yet all this was so arranged that it appeared to harmonize -perfectly with the two swinging cages where four yellow canaries swayed -and sang, with the reddish-brown cat that dozed on the narrow hearth, and -with the little lady in that big chair. It was strange. - -"You have been wishing, my dear," said the little lady, "to hear some -news from your father--some good news, to be sure. I have it for you." - -"Yes, I--" June leaned forward eagerly. - -"But wait!" said the little lady, "I have omitted something." She touched -a bell. A tiny maid in a white cap appeared. - -"The tea, Martha." - -The little lady folded her hands. - -Florence could see that June was tense with emotion. She herself was -greatly excited. Not so the little old lady. She did everything, said -everything in the spirit of absolute repose and peace. - -"And why not?" the girl asked herself. "What's the good of all this -jumping about like a grasshopper, screaming like a seagull, and living -all the time as if you were racing to a fire? Peace--that's the thing to -seek, peace and repose." - -"Ah, here is the tea." The little lady's eyes shone. "Do you have sugar -or lemon? Lemon? Ah, yes. And you? Lemon also. That makes us three. - -"And now--" she sipped the tea as if she were about to say, "I had -muffins for breakfast. What did you have?" - -What she did say was, "I heard from your father, my dear. It was only the -day before yesterday. Oh, not by mail, nor by wire. Not even by radio. He -is rather far away and, for the moment, shut off. But I heard. Oh, yes, -my dear, I heard--" she smiled a roguish smile. - -June was staring, eyes wide, ears straining, taking in every expression, -drinking in every word. - -"He has been out of my circle of influence for a long, long time," said -the little lady. "But now he is not so far. It is an island--that's where -he is." - -"Wha--what island?" June's tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. - -"That, my child, it is strange!" The little lady smiled a curious smile. -"He does not know, nor do I. It is a very large island, this I know. He -is well. He is not alone. He is very short of food, but hopes to find -more presently. He will, in time, find his way off this island. He is -convinced of that. And so am I. And then, my dear, then--" - -"I shall see him!" This came from June as a cry of joy. - -"Then you shall see him." - -"Wha--what is my father like?" - -For a full moment the little lady looked at her without reply. Then she -said, "He is short and rather stout. He is jolly." - -"See?" Florence whispered in June's ear. - -"He has always been well-to-do," the little lady went on. "Now he may be -rich. It is strange. His thoughts are clouded on that point. It is as if -he had been rich, as if for the moment great wealth had escaped him, but -that in a short time he hoped to regain it. - -"And now--" her words appeared to fade away. "Now I must ask you to -excuse me from further talk." - -At that moment Florence experienced a peculiar sensation. It seemed to -her that with the fading of the little lady's words she also faded. She -seemed to all but vanish. - -"Pure fancy!" Florence shook herself, and there was the little lady, -bright and smiling as ever. - -"No, no, my child!" she was saying to June, "Put up your purse. No money -ever is passed in this room. This place is sacred to loyalty and -friendship, beauty and truth." - -A moment later the two girls found themselves once again in the bright -sunshine of a winter's day. - -"That," said Florence, "is the strangest one of them all. Or is she one -of them at all?" - -"No," said June, "she is not one of them." She was thinking of Madame -Zaran, of the voodoo priestess and all the rest. "She--" she hesitated, -"she is the spirit of truth. All she said is true. But how--" her face -was filled with sudden dismay. "How are we to find this large island?" - -"Perhaps," said Florence with a broad smile, "we shall not be obliged to -find the island. It may find us, or at least your father may." - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - STRANGE TREASURE - - -"Vivian! Look down there!" Jeanne's lips were drawn into a tight line as -she pointed to a spot on the smooth frozen surface of the little lost -lake. - -It was the day following the storm. All was clear, bright and silent now. -They had climbed the ridge, those two. Then they had gone slipping and -sliding down the other side. - -As Vivian heard Jeanne's words, she gave her a quick look of sudden -surprise. "Why--what----" - -"Don't ask me!" Jeanne exclaimed in a low, tense tone. "I can't tell you. -I mustn't! Just look!" - -Without further question Vivian dropped to the frozen surface of Jeanne's -little lost lake, cupped her hands about her eyes and, for one full -moment, lay there flat upon the ice, looking--just looking. - -To Jeanne those sixty seconds were sixty hours. "That girl June Travis," -she was thinking to herself, "expects her father to come back. Sometimes -people have faith to believe such things. God must give them the power to -believe. But if her father is down there--if he has been there for -years?" She only half formed this last question, and made no effort to -answer it. - -"Jeanne!" Vivian sprang to her feet with a suddenness that was startling. -"I see an airplane down there. There is a circle on the right plane and -inside the circle is D.X.123!" - -Jeanne uttered a sharp cry. "Then it is true!" - -"What is true?" Vivian demanded. "How did the airplane get there?" - -Slowly, haltingly, Jeanne told her all she knew of the D.X.123, and all -she suspected as well. - -"Jeanne!" Vivian's voice was hoarse with emotion. "There is a great -beacon light on Passage Island, four miles off the end of Isle Royale. It -is there to guide passing ships. But on a night of wild storm song birds, -driven off their course, seeing the beacon and thinking it a place of -refuge, come racing in to dash out their lives against the thick glass of -the light. The men in that plane must have thought this little lake a -place of refuge, and found it only a grave! - -"And yet," she said quickly, "just because the plane is down there is no -proof the men are there also. Only last summer an airplane went down in -Rock Harbor, just ten miles from here. The plane sank from sight in ten -minutes. But before it sank the two men on board were rescued and are -living still. - -"Come!" Once again her voice changed as she prepared to spring into -action. "We must hurry back and tell Sandy about our discovery. We'll get -the short wave at Michigan Tech. They will relay a message to Sandy's -paper. Just think what a scoop it will be for him! Can't you see the -headline: 'Plane D.X.123 found at bottom of small lake on Isle Royale!'" - -"Yes," Jeanne spoke slowly, "I can see that. I can see more than that. I -can see the face of my friend June Travis when she reads that headline. -Her father left in that airplane, Vivian. Her father! She may not know -all about it, but when she reads that name, John Travis, she will know. -But, Vivian, newspapers are often cruel. We must not let Sandy's paper be -cruel; at least, please not yet!" - -"Al--alright, Jeanne." Vivian put her strong arm about Jeanne's waist and -together they made their way across the lake to the foot of the ridge. - -"Jeanne," said Vivian as they left the lake, "I wonder how long paint -keeps its color at the bottom of a lake." - -"I wonder who knows?" Strangely enough, there was a fresh note of hope in -Jeanne's voice. - -As they reached the crest of the ridge, Jeanne turned back. Her gaze took -in not the lake alone, but the lower ridge beyond that, a broad stretch -of lower land. - -"Look!" she said, pointing to the distant shore. "Smoke below." - -"Smoke?" There was a puzzled expression on Vivian's face. "Whose fire can -it be?" - -"Does no one live there?" asked Jeanne. - -"No one. There is a cabin there. It was owned by an Indian, John -Redfeather. He died two years ago. All his stuff is in the cabin, nets -for fishing, canned goods, salt fish in kegs, everything. But, until this -moment, I believed we people at Chippewa Harbor were the only ones on the -island. - -"Vivian!" Jeanne gripped her arm hard. "You don't suppose--" - -"No." Vivian read her meaning. "How could they? No one could live on this -island for years without being seen. Small boats are going around the -island all summer long. No, no! It is impossible. - -"And yet--" her voice softened. "Those people probably _are_ in trouble. -They may have been driven across the lake in a small boat. - -"Tell you what!" she exclaimed. "Here's a large flat rock and over there -are some small dead trees. Those people may not know we are at Chippewa -Harbor. We will build a beacon fire to let them know they are not alone. -Then perhaps they will come over and we can help them." - -"All the same," Jeanne thought as she assisted in laying the fire, "I -still have faith." - -"Jeanne," said Vivian as a half hour later the fire, which had blazed -high, was a mass of glowing coals, "we are only a short distance from the -highest spot on the ridge. In a sort of cave beneath that spot is to be -found '_some considerable treasure_.' Shall we go look for it?" - -"Lead on!" said Jeanne. - -It was Vivian who talked most of the mysterious "treasure" she and Jeanne -were about to seek in the cave-like opening of the rocks on Greenstone -Ridge. And why not? Had it not been she who, while lifting her father's -nets, had taken the ancient churn from the bottom of Lake Superior? Had -she not cherished it as a mark of Isle Royale's colorful history? Had she -not, with Jeanne's aid, discovered the note telling of that treasure? -What was most important of all, Jeanne had insisted that if anything of -value were found it should be sold and added to Vivian's boat fund. - -Vivian was saying as they made their way along the ridge toward its -highest point: "I know just the boat we need. It was made by a famous old -boat builder. He built it for his own use. He was old. His sight failed -him. He never put it in the water. He is quite poor now. If he can sell -his boat, how happy he will be!" - -"And how happy you and Violet will be!" said Jeanne, suddenly coming out -of a brown study. She was still thinking of the lost airplane D.X.123 and -of that mournful sight both she and Vivian had seen at the bottom of the -little lost lake, the sunken plane. - -At the same time she was thinking of that column of smoke rising from the -edge of a tiny island along the farther shore of Isle Royale. - -"Smoke!" she whispered. "How much it has meant to man through all the -years! How he has read the meaning of its upward curlings. If he is wise, -it tells him of wind and approaching storm. He signals his distant -friends with columns of smoke. Other columns warn him of hiding enemies. -All this is of the past. How little that distant smoke says to me! And -yet, somehow, I cannot help but feel--" she spoke aloud--"that somehow -that smoke is connected with the missing airplane." - -"I can't see how that could be," replied Vivian. "All that must have -happened years ago. No one could live undiscovered on this island all -that time--not even if he chose to." - -"And yet--" Jeanne did not finish. Her thoughts at that moment were for -herself alone. - -"But think, Jeanne!" Vivian exclaimed. "'Some considerable treasure.' -That's what we read in that note. Think back over the history of our -island. Lake pirates are believed to have hidden away in our long, narrow -harbors. Of course, that was years and years ago. But think of the -ancient gold and silver plate, the jewels they may have hidden here! - -"But then--" she sighed a happy sigh of anticipation. "It may not have -been that at all. This island is only sixteen miles from Canada. Think -what a hiding place it must have been when smugglers were chased by -revenue cutters!" - -"What did they smuggle?" Jeanne asked absent-mindedly. - -"Silks, woolens, drugs, opium, uncut diamonds and--oh, lots of things." - -"Silks would rot. Who wants opium? I'm not sure I could tell an uncut -diamond from a pebble." Jeanne laughed in spite of herself. - -"Well, anyway," Vivian exclaimed, "here's the highest spot! Now we go -down." - -"But how?" Jeanne looked with dismay upon the sheer wall of rock beneath -her. - -"This way." Vivian gripped the out-growing root of a tree, swung into -space, tucked her toe into a crevice, caught at a sapling clinging to the -rocky wall, found a narrow shelf, then dropped again. - -"Oh, Jeanne!" she cried. "Here it is! Here's the very place! All dark and -spooky!" - -"Yes," Jeanne wailed, "and here am I. I--I just can't come down there! -Makes me dizzy to think about it." - -"Wait. I'll come up and help you." - -In a surprisingly short time Vivian was again at her side. "It's all in -getting used to it," she breathed. "I've always lived here, and I've -climbed all over. Now when I get down to that first shelf, you grab that -root and slide over the side. I'll catch you." - -With wildly beating heart Jeanne followed instructions. Three minutes -later, to her vast surprise, she found herself on a lower rocky shelf -looking into a dark cavern that might well have been called a cave. - -"You--you're wonderful!" She patted Vivian on the shoulder. - -Vivian evidently did not hear this well-deserved praise. "Now," she -breathed, "now for the treasure!" - - -At that moment two men, one with his feet garbed in crude moccasins made -from a torn-up blanket, were standing on the distant shore close to a -weather-beaten cabin. - -"John," the taller of the two was saying, "that column of smoke is the -first sign of life I've seen on this island. Who can it be? Do you -suppose they're Indians?" They were speaking of the smoke from Vivian's -signal fire. - -"If they're Indians, they're civilized, living this far south. Probably -got a good supply of food, too, and that's what we need. Stuff in this -cabin is about gone. Wish I knew what island this is." - -"Anyway," the other said, "we've got to get up there and down on the -other side, where they live. We'd better start as soon as possible. Be -dark before we get over the ridge, as it is." - -"We'll start at once," the other agreed. Then they disappeared into the -cabin. - - -"Treasure!" Jeanne was saying at that moment. "He called that -treasure--four big slabs of copper beaten out of the rocks, probably by -Indians, and hidden here perhaps two hundred years ago. It may go well in -your museum, but how is it going to help with that boat of yours?" - -"It won't help much," Vivian agreed with a sigh. - -Flashlights in hand, they had entered the rocky cavern. It was neither -very wide nor deep. Well toward the back of it they had come upon these -irregular slabs of pure copper. The marks of fire and Indians' stone -hammers were still to be seen upon them. Here at least was proof that -wild tribes did mine copper here in centuries gone. - -"Copper," said Vivian slowly, "is worth eight cents a pound, if you have -it near a smelter. Up here it is worth very little. - -"But there have been times," she added in defense of the unknown one who -had left that note in the ancient churn, "when this pile of copper would -have been considered a treasure. It would have sold for two hundred -dollars, and that much money would buy a house in a city, or a pretty -good farm, way back in the long ago. It all depends--" - -She did not finish, for at that moment Jeanne exclaimed from the deepest -and narrowest corner of the cavern: "Vivian! Come here quick! See what -I've found!" - -"Oh--oh!" Vivian cried. "How strange!" Her flashlight played over a -narrow shelf-like ledge of rock. On that shelf rested several pieces of -crockery. - -These were not like any Vivian had seen before. Moulded from bluish clay, -then fired to a bright glaze, they bore on their sides strange markings. - -"Pictured crockery," Jeanne murmured. "Seems strange that Indians should -have done that!" - -"And yet they must have been Indians," Vivian replied. "Who else could -have made them? - -"And oh, Jeanne!" she cried with sudden enthusiasm. "What an addition -they will make to my museum collection!" - -"I wonder," Jeanne said thoughtfully, "if these could have been the -treasure referred to in that note?" - -"Treasure? These?" Vivian laughed a merry laugh. "Pieces of old crockery! -But," she added thoughtfully, "they _are_ a treasure, of a sort. Come on. -I'll take off my mackinaw and pack them in it. We'll have to handle them -with care." - -A half hour later, just as dusk was falling, they crept out of the cave. -After a quarter hour spent in struggling up the steep rocky wall, they -went hurrying down the slope toward home. - -At the same time two men, one who limped and one who wore rags for shoes, -were struggling across the narrow plateau where snow lay deep and wolf -tracks were numerous, toward that steep wall of rock in which the cavern -was hidden. - -Jeanne's question regarding the pieces of ancient crockery proved not to -be so far wrong after all. The moment Sandy MacQueen saw them he -exclaimed "What a discovery! Until this moment not a whole piece of -Indian crockery has been found on the island, only fragments. And now, -here you have a dozen or more perfect ones. - -"But what is this?" He fairly leaped at one piece. "Here is the picture -of that heathen god Thor! Can't be any mistake about it. Why would -Indians put such a picture on their crockery?" - -"Know what?" His face beamed. "I may be wrong, but if I'm not, this will -go far toward proving a story that until now has seemed more than half -legend--that Norsemen, driven to the shores of America, perhaps a -thousand years ago, came to this island for protection from savage -Indians, and that they were the true discoverers of copper on Isle -Royale. - -"Vivian! Violet!" His tone was low, exciting. "You have your summer boat -paid for right now! I know a museum curator who will pay you handsomely -for these pieces." - -"I--I sort of wanted them for my museum," Vivian demurred. "But the -boat--" - -"Oh, yes, the boat!" Violet exclaimed. "The boat! The boat!" At that she -grabbed Vivian and Jeanne both at once and together they went whirling -madly around the room. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - THROUGH THE PICTURE - - -Florence was in the studio alone. Miss Mabee had been called away to New -York. The fire in the hearth had burned out. Florence had not troubled to -rebuild it. The place seemed cold, lonely, deserted. As she sat there -musing, she seemed to hear the words of Poe's Raven: "Never more." - -Never more what? Well, surely never again would she believe in those who -told fortunes by reading cards, gazing into a crystal ball, or studying -stars. - -"Fakers all," she murmured. "Simple, harmless people, most of them; but -fakes for all that! They--" - -She broke short off to listen. Had she caught some sound of movement in -the room? It did not seem possible. The door was securely locked. The -door? Two doors really. She recalled discovering a secret panel door at -the side of the room. - -"Just behind that picture," she told herself. - -The picture, on which she bestowed a fleeting glance, was the one Miss -Mabee had prepared for the little show to be put on for Tum Morrow's -benefit, the paper picture through which Jeanne was supposed to jump. -"Wonder if that show will ever come off?" she mused. "Wonder--" - -She sprang to her feet. This time there _was_ a sound. Yes, and she -wanted to scream. There, between two paintings of gypsy life, was a face, -an ugly, fat, leering face. She knew that face. It was the man she had -seen in the professor's room on that night when she went down the rope. -Madame Zaran had sent him. Her illicit business of telling fake fortunes -was being ruined by Florence's investigations and reports. She was -seeking revenge. - -How had the man entered the room? One other question was more pressing: -how was she to get out? - -The man was between her and the entrance. He was close to the stairway -that led to the balcony. She was trapped--or was she? There was the -secret panel door. - -"That picture is directly in front of it," she thought. "Too close. I -can't get round it. But I could--" her heart skipped a beat. "I could go -through it. Too bad to spoil Tum's big party too--" - -The man was advancing upon her. With hands outstretched, eyes gleaming, -he seemed some monstrous beast about to seize a bird of rare plumage. - -She hesitated no longer. She sprang to the right, then dashed three steps -forward to go crashing through that picture. - -Was the man taken by surprise? Beyond doubt he was. At any rate, Florence -was through that door and had completely lost herself in a maze of -slanting beams and rafters before she had time to think of her next move. -And from the studio there came no sound. - -She could not well go back, even though she knew the way, so she groped -forward. After ten minutes of this, she caught a gleam of light. It came -from under a door. Remembering that nearly all the people in the world -are decent, honest folks, she knocked boldly. - -The door was thrown open. There, framed in light, stood Tum Morrow. - -"Tum!" she exclaimed, all but falling into his arms. "Tum! How glad I am -to see you!" - -"Why--what--what's happened?" He stared in surprise. "Come on in and tell -me." - -The story was soon told. "And Tum," Florence ended with a note of dismay, -"I ruined that picture! I had to. That puts an end to your big show." - -"Don't let that trouble you." The boy smiled happily. "Only yesterday -Miss Mabee fixed up something quite wonderful for me. She has a friend, a -director of music in a college. He wants someone to play the part of -concertmeister in his orchestra and direct the strings in their practice. -I have been given a musical scholarship." - -"And you're going to college! How grand! Shake!" Florence held out a -hand. - -"Grand enough," Tum agreed. "Now, however, you are the burning question -of the hour. How and when are you going back to the studio?" - -"How and when?" Florence repeated gloomily. - -"Tell you what!" Tum exclaimed. "I've got a gun--a regular cannon. My dad -used it in the war. Suppose we load it up and march on the enemy. If -necessary, I'll play the 'Anvil Chorus' on that old cannon, and there may -be less trouble in the world after I am through." - -"Grand idea! Lead the way!" Florence was on her feet. - -By a secret passage known only to Tum, they made their way to the studio -entrance. Their expected battle, however, did not come off. They found -the studio silent and quite deserted. - -"We'll stack our arms, pitch our tents, build a fire and--" Tum -hesitated. - -"And serve rations," Florence finished for him with a laugh. - -Florence was a good cook. Tum was a good eater, and, if the truth must be -told, so was Florence. The quantities of food consumed there by the fire -was nothing short of scandalous. But then, who was there to complain? - -"Well--" Florence settled back in her big chair at last. "The enemy -marched on us tonight. Tomorrow we shall march on the enemy. I'll hunt up -Patrick Moriarity. He'll call in a police squad. We'll raid Madame -Zaran's place. Yes, and we'll call on the voodoo priestess as well." - -"The voodoo priestess and Madame Zaran--are they friends?" Tum asked in -surprise. - -"Far from that." Florence sat up in her chair. "They're the bitterest -enemies. You see, they're both engaged in the same crooked game. Each -hoped to reap a rich harvest from June Travis' innocence." - -"How did you find out all that?" Tum stared at her with frank admiration. - -"I've guessed it for some time. Two days ago I proved it." Florence was -away with a good story. "I felt quite sure that the voodoo priestess was -reared in Chicago, not in the Black Republic of Haiti. To prove this was -very simple." She laughed. "You see, Haiti used to be a French colony. -Even today everyone down there speaks French. So, too, would a real -voodoo priestess from that island. On my last visit to her I took along a -friend who speaks French fluently. I had instructed her to talk French to -me in this black woman's presence. More than that, she was to say things -like this: 'She's a humbug. She is a big black impostor!'" - -"That," said Tum, "must have got a rise out of her." - -"Not a bit of it." Florence laughed again. "She got mad, but not at what -we said. She objected to the way we said it. She couldn't understand a -word of French, that's sure, for we had hardly started when she turned on -us, her eyes bulging with anger as she said, 'Here, you! Don't you dare -speak none of that ugly foreign stuff in dis place! De spirit of de big -black Emperor, he objects!' - -"And to think!" Florence exclaimed, "French was probably the only -language her big black Emperor ever spoke. - -"Well then," she went on after a while, "I asked her why she didn't gaze -into a crystal ball, the way Madame Zaran did. I told her of the moving -figures I had seen in Madame's glass ball. I said Madame would probably -get all of June's money. - -"All the time I was talking she was getting blacker and blacker with -anger. And the things she said about Madame Zaran! They couldn't be put -in a book, I can tell you. - -"Some of the things, though, were interesting, for I am sure she does the -same things herself. She said that when Madame Zaran has a rich patron -she bribes a maid in the patron's home, a hair-dresser or someone else, -to tell all about her. Then when the rich patron returns for a reading, -don't you see, she can tell her the most amazing things about her past? -Oh, they're a great pair, the priestess and Madame Zaran. I'd like to be -around if they met in a dark spot at night. But I won't," Florence -sighed, "for tomorrow is our zero hour. When the police are through with -them, they'll be in no fighting mood." - -"I rather guess not!" said Tum. Then, "If you feel things are O. K. I'll -be going. Keep my cannon if you like." - -"I--I'd like to." Florence put out a hand. - -"You see," explained Tum, "the way you play the 'Anvil Chorus' on it, you -just grip it here, pull on this little trigger with your forefinger, and -it does the rest." - -"Thanks! And good-night." Florence flashed him a dazzling smile. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - A VISIT IN THE NIGHT - - -Excitement regarding the discovery of that ancient pottery was all over -when, at a rather late hour that night, Jeanne crept beneath the blankets -in the chilly little room under the rafters in the fisherman's cabin on -Isle Royale. - -As she lay there in the darkness and silence that night brings, she -thought again of the startling news Vivian had wanted to flash out over -her tiny radio station to all the world, the word that the airplane -D.X.123 had been found. - -"Vivian will not send it until I say 'Yes,'" she assured herself. "She is -the kind of girl who can keep a secret--a really true friend. And yet, I -wonder if I have the right to ask her to remain silent?" - -As she closed her eyes, she saw again the wistful, almost mournful look -on the face of June Travis. Then she fell asleep. - -She did not sleep long. She was wakened by loud banging on the cabin -door. - -"Let us in!" a voice called huskily. - -A light appeared, reflected on the roof above Jeanne's head. She heard -the fisherman say, "Who are you?" - -She caught the answer clear and plain: "I am John Travis." - -Ten minutes later Jeanne was listening to the strange, all but -unbelievable story of John Travis, who was, in very truth, the father of -her friend June. - -Relying upon the word of a dying veteran prospector, John Travis and a -friend, who was an air pilot, had flown far into the north of Canada in -quest of gold. - -They had discovered gold, but had disabled their plane. The story of the -years that followed was one of hardships, failure and final success. - -"There we were," the voice of John Travis went on, "with our plane -wrecked in the heart of a frozen wilderness." He stared at the glowing -hearth as if he would see again that great white emptiness, hear again -the wail of those rushing northern gales. - -"We had food for a year. But where were we? We could not tell. We began -exploring. Little by little, we widened our circle until one day I came -upon a low falls where the water ran so swiftly that even in winter it -was not frozen over. And at the edge of that falls, where a low eddy had -deposited it, was a handful of sand." He took a long breath. "In that -sand there was a gleam of gold. - -"He who has not felt it--" he spoke slowly. "He who has not lived in the -North can tell nothing of what the call of the North is, nor the grip the -search for gold gets upon your very soul. - -"Why did we not come back sooner? How could one leave one's own people so -long, desert an only child? Gold!" He clenched his knotty hands tight. -"Gold! We had found gold. At first it was only a little. As days, months -passed, we found more and more. And always, always--" The gleam of a -gambler shone in his eyes as he spread his hands wide. "Always, just -before us, like a mirage on the desert, was the motherlode, the pocket of -gold where nuggets were piled in one great heap. We would find it -tomorrow--tomorrow. - -"Gold," he repeated softly. "Gold. It's all there in the cabin of that -plane at the bottom of that little lost lake. We'll lift the plane and -the gold when the spring thaw comes. And then, my child, my June shall be -rich. And you, my friends--" his eyes swept the little circle, "you shall -not go unrewarded." - -"But think of the peril to June," Jeanne said in a low, serious tone. - -"I left her in good hands." - -"But now she is a young lady, sixteen. Her birthday--is it the -twenty-first? That must be very soon. Then she gets her money. And money -means danger." - -"Money--danger?" The man brushed his hand before his eyes. - -"But let me finish. Indians came, fine bronze-faced fellows we could -trust. We gave them gold, bound them to secrecy by an oath known only to -their tribe, and hired them to bring us food. - -"So the years passed until, one day, a plane came zooming in from the -south. And at the sight of men of our own race, somehow our blood got on -fire. As they talked of cities, of bright lights and music, of pictures, -dancing and song, of autos and airplanes and all our great country's -progress, my heart seemed ready to burst with the desire to become a part -of it all again. - -"Well," he sighed once more, "they flew away to return a little later -with parts for our plane. We paid them with our gold mine, what there is -left of it. We sailed away into the blue with our gold. We were headed -for Chicago and would have made it, too, if fog hadn't caught us. It did -catch us, as you know. We tried to land on ice. We were successful. We -were saved. But the ice gave way, the plane sank! - -"But now--" he sprang to his feet. "Now we are safe again. And soon, -please God, I shall be with my child again. And this time I am ready to -swear it on the open Bible, I shall never again leave her alone! - -"Until now," he ended, "we did not know where we were." - -"But now you know!" Jeanne exclaimed. "Soon all the world shall know. -Vivian! Sandy! The radio! We are to be the bearers of good tidings, of -great joy!" - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI - IN WHICH SOME THINGS ARE WELL FINISHED - - -"We'll just get the janitor to go up with us," said Patrick Moriarity as -he and Florence arrived at the building in which Madame Zaran conducted -her readings. "They're gone, more than likely." - -And so they were. The room, as they approached it, was dark and appeared -deserted. - -As, under police orders, the janitor opened the door, Florence once again -felt a thrill run up her spine. In her mind she felt again, as on that -first day, the grip of those bony fingers on her shoulders. Once again -she saw the shadow against those midnight blue draperies--the shadow of -"Satan"--this time in imagination alone. - -"Deserted as a tomb," was Patrick's conclusion. "We'll just have a look." -Florence had told him of all the strange doings that had gone on here. - -"What's this?" he muttered as they came upon a narrow stairway hidden -among the draperies. - -Together they mounted the stairs to arrive at a still narrower platform. -Here on a stand they discovered a small moving-picture projector. - -"I thought maybe it would be that," was Patrick's only comment as he -focused the machine, then turned on the motor. - -To Florence's vast surprise, the crystal ball, reposing on the table on -the floor below, at once became alive. On its gleaming surface tiny human -figures began to move. - -"Quite simple," was the young officer's comment. "Moving pictures focused -upon a small screen behind the ball--that's all it was." - -"And they made the pictures especially for their--their clients!" -Florence's tone spoke her astonishment. "Posed people made up to look -like them." - -"Rather costly, I'd say!" said Patrick. "But then, they were playing for -big stakes. I have no doubt they've played their little game before, -perhaps many times. - -"Come!" he said a moment later, "We'll go have a look on this black -priestess of yours. We may find her at home." - -They did find the priestess, and many more besides. In fact, there had -been quite an affair at her studio that very morning. Truth was, as -Florence, leaning on Patrick's arm, looked in upon the scene, she thought -there had been nothing quite like it before. - -"It--it's like a scene on the stage," she whispered. - -"The cold gray dawn of the morning after," Patrick murmured. - -And indeed that was just what it looked to be. In the center of the room, -her hands still clawing as if for unearned gold, Madame Zaran stood -leaning on a table. She seemed dizzy. The reason was a rapidly swelling -bruise on her forehead. At her feet lay her thick-necked guard, he who -had entered the studio on the previous night. He was out for good. So, -too, were two black men in one corner. As for the Professor and the -voodoo priestess, they were seated upon the floor, staring at one another -for all the world like two spent wrestlers pausing to regain their -breath. As Florence and the young officer stood there looking on in -stupefied silence, a black goat with golden horns appeared from -somewhere. He let out a loud b-a-a, then charged the unfortunate Madame -Zaran. He hit her behind the knees, and she collapsed like an empty sack. - -"It looks to me," Patrick drawled, "as if there had been a fight." - -"Sure does look that way," said a strange voice. - -Florence whirled about to find herself looking into a face that resembled -a new moon--large thin nose, sharp protruding chin, eyes that bulged -slightly. "The Devil," she thought without saying it. - -"You've seen me before." The man favored her with a friendly smile. - -"I--I guess I've seen your shadow more than once," the girl managed to -reply. - -"Handy sort of shadow," the man chuckled. "You see, I'm a city detective. -I've been on this case for some time. Now it would seem that all that's -needed is an ambulance." - -"I'll call one," Patrick said, hurrying away. - -Fifteen minutes later, the whole company, including the goat, were on -their way to the police station. Shortly thereafter, the greater number -of them were transferred to the hospital. - - -Of quite a different nature was the meeting in Miss Mabee's studio two -days later. - -They were gathered there in the studio, Florence and June, Miss Mabee, -Tum Morrow and Rodney Angel, when there came the sound of footsteps on -the stairs, followed by a rattle at the bell. June started forward -impulsively. Florence held her back. "Wait!" she whispered. - -Miss Mabee pressed a button. The door opened slowly, and in walked Sandy, -Jeanne and a short, stout man. They, the newcomers, all wore heavy -airplane coats and carried airplane traveling bags in their hands. - -"Well?" The man studied the waiting group. When his eyes fell upon June -they lighted up as if by a touch of fire. - -"June!" His voice was husky. "How big! How beautiful you are!" Next -instant the girl was in his arms. - -And after that, as always, there was a feast. At this feast John Travis -made a brief speech. "There's gold on Isle Royale." He spoke with -feeling. "More gold at the bottom of that little lake than any man can -use wisely in a lifetime. When it's been recovered, I shall charter the -finest airplane in the country and take you all on a trip around the -world. What do you say to that?" - -Of course, they said "Yes," and they said it with a shout of joy. But -would they go? Only time could tell. - -"This fortune telling," Florence said to June as they lunched together -next day, "It is all a fake and a fraud." - -"But what can we say of the little lady in gray?" June asked, as she -opened her eyes wide. - -"Yes," Florence agreed, "that _was_ strange!" - -"I'd like to go and see her again and--and thank her." The younger girl's -eyes shone. - -"We will go this very afternoon." - -They did, and with the most astonishing results. They were met at the -door by a very large lady. "Large enough," Florence thought with a start, -"to occupy that huge chair." - -"We--we'd like to see the little lady in gray," June said timidly. - -"You must have the wrong number." The large lady looked at them in -surprise. "There is no one here but me." - -"But there _was_!" June insisted. - -"You are mistaken!" In the woman's voice there was a positive note none -would care to dispute. "I live here alone with my cat and canaries. There -never has been anyone else." - -June opened her mouth to speak again, but Florence was pulling at her -arm. - -"We're sorry," said Florence. "This must be the wrong address." - -"But it isn't!" June insisted when they were once more on the sidewalk. -"I am sure of it." - -"So am I." Florence smiled in a strange way. "But when some fairy -godmother borrows a house for a morning just so she can give you some -very good news, you don't go right ahead and give her away, do you?" - -"N--no, I suppose not." - -"Anyway," said Florence, finally, "I am through with mysteries for a -long, long time!" - -Was she? If you wish to know, you must read _A Ticket to Adventure_. - - - - - Transcriber's Notes - - ---Copyright notice provided as in the original printed text--this e-text - is public domain in the country of publication. - ---Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and - dialect unchanged. - ---In the text versions, italic text is delimited by _underscores_. - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crystal Ball, by Roy J. Snell - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRYSTAL BALL *** - -***** This file should be named 44062.txt or 44062.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/0/6/44062/ - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at - www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 -North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email -contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the -Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/44062.zip b/44062.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ce0cc6c..0000000 --- a/44062.zip +++ /dev/null |