... J2aclij Jfxtherington uaper Ohase Bg Oscar Qmij SOME men think all women are fair game. Often I have felt tempted to agree with them, but I discriminate; the trouble with Willie Taggart was that he di ...

... Curtain for dfj en edict by Hollow ay Ho?-n AS Murray let himself into his empty flat, the clock in the hall chiming mid night ushered in his wedding day. He flung his coat on to the old chest and gla ...

... During the summer of 1924 I had before me a very attractive list of health and pleasure resorts in Scotland from among which I found it difficult indeed to make a decisive and final choice. The consequence of much weighing of pro's and con's of this and that town was that the holidays (August) arrived, and I was compelled to make a hurried decision, so plumped for a golfing spell at Nairn. ...

... A/T y husband and I had been married four years before our prospective hopes of a little child were realised. How happy we were as we tried to prepare ourselves for our new duties and planned his future. Life suddenly assumed a grander, more wonderful aspect. Sometimes I wondered, never morbidly, if I would survive his birth -of his life I never doubted was he not an answer to prayers The ...

... Sir ORTHOGAMISTS LIMITED. M °%lg. V.- THE WIFE WHO WAS NOT PARTICULAR ENOUGH. By ALAN KEMP. THERE was an air of considerable condescension about the Reverend Bernard Sweetapple as he entered the offices of Orthogamists, Ltd. He had the air of a martyr to dyspepsia who picks up a new patent medicine and says: An other rotten fraud, I suppose; but I might as well try it. Me was a man wno ...

... THE WAT OF THE TRANSCT.: .R. By J. SACKVILLE MARTIN. LEWIS STAINES stood before the bureau of the hotel, staring at the register which the clerk had pushed across the counter to him. The clerk spoke very little English, and Mr. Staines very little French, but it was not that, but rather the register itself that was embarrass ing him. After a moment's pause he wrote rapidly, Mr. and Mrs. F. ...

... Continued. There 's a bobby outside, Sir Joseph. Henry flew to the front door and blew a shrill blast on his fingers. Lady Mey- linger's white, startled face above a lace wrapper appeared in the doorway. In similar garb Maisie trailed down the stair case, peering over the banisters. Good God The whole house was full of staring, hostile faces. Helen's heart hammered in her throat. What an ...

... . By LYNN BROCK. THERE was quite a stir in the usually quiet little seaside resort of Port bridge on that fine Saturday after noon at the end of August 1925. The seaplanes from Deandock Aerodrome were to give an exhibition over, on, and around the Eye Rock-- that steep, cliff-fringed island of vivid green rising from the water about two miles from the shore. There would be perilous landings ...

... isGiraoar r-, mar members OF THE JURY. jMSf JrMI# *av& XI.-- CECILIA ROSSITER. BY WINIFRED DUKE. Author of The Laird, Tales of Hate, etc.) MISS ROSSITER was the other unmarried woman on the jury, but, save for the bare fact that she shared Miss Peabody's and Miss Smith's status of spinsterhood, she was of small assistance or support to her juror-sisters, married or single. Miss Rossiter ...

... jdlgte*. 5RO PETER POPPY'S PASSIONS. Lwik Jr*# ^fflPfll III.-- VERITAS, PURITAS. By LYNN BROCK. IT had been the motto of the Barkletts of Selville for nine hundred years. Sir Reuben Wineberg, Chairman of Amalgamated Revues, Ltd.-- he has nothing else to do with this story-- knew just enough Latin to roar it at a chorus of five hundred naked women in rehearsal when the tape ticked off the news ...

... WEIRD STORIES A WEIRD EXPERIENCE Some time ago, February 28 of last year to be correct, I submitted a short article dealing with an unusual occurrence that, perhaps, touched upon the occult; in this article I made vague reference to an experience which came to me on the day my sister departed this life. What follows can, in the main, be verified by the officials at Middlesex Hospital, where my ...

... Weairdl Stoiraeg continued. In the summer of 1914 I was staying in Bruges at a small hotel which I knew well, having often made it my headquarters on sketching expeditions. It was in those days a quaint, old- fashioned place, with simple whitewashed walls, trestle tables, and bare wooden unpolished floors. The food was unpretentious but good, and the service rough but efficient; altogether an ...