Picture-Play Weekly (Apr-Oct 1915)

THE LOST HOUSF. 21 porter, who was visiting tiic station house to find out how the police department of London did its work in , comparison with the New York force. ! "This looks interesting." lie declared, when he had read the message. "Let me run down the case, will you? It may be genuine, for all anybody know s." The assembled "'bobbies" laughed ^ at him this time. But from the beggar, Ford learned the name of the street where he had picked up the note, and how to get there. And, live minutes later, he was standing on its corner. He started slowlj down one side of the street. He couldn't go up to all the houses and ring the doorbells, to inquire if such a note had been thrown from any of its windows. For, if the thing really was serious, that would let the unknown girl's captors know that there was an attempt being made to rescue her. If only there was some way he could find out which house the thing had come from ! At the farther corner Ford stopped. In the distance he heard the strains of a hurdy-gurdy. The tune it was playing was "My Old Kentucky Home." And then he remembered all at once that the message had contained the statement that the writer was a girl from Kentucky. l-ord hastened to the Italian who was playing the hurdy-gurdj two blocks away, and led him into a near-bj' "ptib." "I'll give you a five-pound note for the use of that music box of yours." he olTered, "and for your hat, coat, and that bandanna handkerchief you're wearing around your neck. I only w-ant the things for a half hour. Is it a go?" The bargain was immediately struck. Five minutes later, Ford was back in the same street in the disguise of an organ grinder, pumping out the strains : "My Old Kentucky Home." Slowh he pushed the hurdy-gurdy along the street as he played, looking up anxiously at the windows of all the houses as though he hoped to see a coin thrown from one of them. And suddenly Ford's heart bounded. From the barred upper window of the house in front of which he stood he saw a girl's glove pushed out over the sill. It dropped at his feet. Sw'iftly he picked the thing up and stutted it in his pocket. Still playing the hurdy-gurdy, he moved on to the corner and round it. Then, returning the borrowed street piano and clothes to the Italian, who was waiting for him in the "pub," he hastened to the lodgings he shared with an English chum of his. "That girl I'i in trouble." Ford announced to the latter, "and I'm going to get her out of it. Do you happen to know anything, by the way. about that particular house?" "I should say I do !'' answered his friend. "The police have had it under watch for a long time. A good many patients have died there — too many, in fact, to look as if the place was quite on the level. I warn you. you'd better not step foot inside it. Your life might not be w-orth a farthing " "I'm going, just the same !'' declared Ford. "But I'll tell you what you do : If I'm not back here by noon to-morrow, you bring the police and make them batter down the door. Don't let them stand on any ceremony about it — just break right in, for if I'm not out, you can depend on it the place needs to be raided ! ' An hour later, a four-wheeled cab rolled up before the house in question. A 3-oung man alighted from it and walked feebly up the steps. In answer to his ring, he was ushered in by Doctor Protheroe. "I am a naval officer, doctor," the patient weakly explained. "I'm overworked, I guess. I don't know what else can be the matter with me, for I can't sleep, eat, or get any enjoyment out of life any more. Don't you think you can fix me up?" "\A hy, certainl\!" Doctor Protheroe heartily assured him. "You'll stay right here until you're cured. Come. I'll shov.you to your room." It turned out to be one on the second floor. \\"hen he was alone, Ford — for so the overworked naval officer w-as — crossed to the door and tried it. He found that he had been locked in. At once the key grated in the lock. Doctor Protheroe stepped back into the room, and stood regarding him suspicously. "Why did you lock the door?" Ford demanded. "Oh. that was for your own protection,' explained Protheroe. assuming a disarming manner. "Some of our patients are inclined to be violent at times. To insure the safetj' of others, we always keep their doors locked." With a leap into the fire nei Dosia was freed from the burning building, which had nearly caused her death twice that day.