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Harrison explains that his niece will have in her possession something of great value which certain individuals are intensely anxious to get. In this connection Harrison explains that he is engaged in wliat he calls a ‘private war‘ with certain money interests. He shows Brocklebank a photograph of a middleâ€" aged man with a grey moustache and narrow eyes, and warns Brocklebank against him. When the story opens, Brocklebank is on his way from ‘Paris to Marseilles by train. When he goes to the restaurant car for dinner, he sees in a far corner a man closely resembling the photoâ€" graph which Harrison showed in New York. And at the next halt he sends a wire to â€"a frierd, GUICHARD, at Marseilles. Towards the end of the journey the narrowâ€"eyed person whom B_rockle- bank nicknames YELLOW DOG) apâ€" The task is to meet Harrison‘s niece, PAMELA, at Marseilles, where she is arriving from the Near East, and to conduct her to London, where Harriâ€" son will e awaiting her at the Felton Hotel. Harrison takes Brocklebank to his apartment, where he shows a desire to do something to reward the young man. Discovering that Brocklebank is a deâ€" pendable person of education, who speaks French filuently, he asks him if he would care to undertake an errand to Europe, for which he is preâ€" pared to pay 2,000 dollars. Brocklebank who is in America getting business exâ€" perience, but has lost his job, is atâ€" tracted by the offer. BILL BROCKLEBANK, a young athâ€" letic Englishman, saved a stranger, GEORGE HARRISON, from being murdered in New York. Start the Story Here Only a couple of instalments of this gripping serial have béen published. You can read the following complete summary of what has gone before and start the story now without missing anything. Inactivity of the large bowel, or colon, leaves poisons in the system to cause serious and painful diseases. You can prevent and thoroughly relieve this chronic form of constiâ€" pation by using HASE‘S K:dney as Inver Pills CANADIAN GENERAL ELECTRIC CO., Limited AUTHOR OF "THE MAN WITH THE SQUEAKY VOICE," ETC Copyright But Brocklebank‘s curious ssnsation was an instinctive knowledge that Narâ€" rowâ€"eyes would not move. Without knowing it, Brocklebank had established a superiority complex. He had hynoâ€" tized his man. It was not the gun that he looked with so fixed a stare of fear, but at Brocklebank‘s eyes. Narrowâ€"eyes was like a bird paralysâ€" ed by a cat. He had n» will of his own. Never withdrawing his eyes from Rrocklebank‘s, he took the two steps. Brocklebark‘s left hard spun him round, ran over his clothes, extracted a revolver from his hip pocket, dropped it on the seat, spun him ‘sack. The end of the tunnel at last. _A blessed relief to the ears. The clatter of the wheels was almost silence. "Ici!" â€"commanded Brocklebank, from MiS_ y in : cesc a n en "Allezâ€"vousâ€"en!" said Brocklebank, raised his hand to the bellâ€"push. "Comâ€" prenezâ€"vous?" Whether he understood the words or not, he knew the meaning of the gesâ€" ture. Backing away, he reached the door, pulled it op:n, banged it fast, ran down the corridor. Brocklebank picked up the gun from the seat, threw it into his suitâ€"case, pocketed his own, with a sort of finality in all his movements. Both Narrowâ€"eyes and he were in a private war, and he nesd fear no publicity for this skirmish. (Now Read On) CHAPTER II "NARROWâ€"EYES" IS SCARED During the next two minutes, while the infernal racket of the train in the tunnel cortinued, Brocklebank had a curious sensation as they glared into each other‘s eyes. He knew that if the man‘s hand reached round his hip, or even if he made a movement of ary sort, that gun would go off and Narrowâ€"eyes might be dead in a few seconds. pears at the entrance of Brocklebank‘s compartment and asks if he may smoke a cigar, since hisg own compartment is a nonâ€"smoker. Brocklebank agrees and Yellow Dog brings a companion whom recognizes as SIR ARâ€" THUR ACKERTON, an old friend of his father. Although the conversation so far has been in French, Ackerton suspects Brocklebark of being English, but Brocklebank skilfully maintains the fiction that he is French, and that he does not understand English. Even so, Ackerton is not convinced, ard tells Yellow Dog he ‘selieves the man to be English, and named Brocklebank. When Ackerton has finished his cigar and l2ft the compartment, Yellow Dog takes the earliest opportunity of asking Brccklebank what his game is. In reâ€" ply, Brocklebank, still speaking in French, produces his pistol. Ultimately the man makes off to another part of the train. But Ackerton! the fatality of it! . . . Ackerton in the society of Narrowâ€"eyes . _. . Ackerton giving him away. Not that Ackerton could have known anyâ€" thing about the risky business which was to take his companion down to the docks in Marseilles. It was plain that i they had met casually on the train. To Ackertor the only queer thing in the episode must. have bsen that Young Brocklebank was masquerading as a Frenchman, pretending not to know him, though he must have recognized him immediately both by name and apâ€" pearance; middleâ€"aged men do not alter their looks much in five years. Brocklebank looked out upon fifty thousand twinkling lights. Presently the train was passing through the subur>an stations of Marseilles and slowing down for the terminus. He stood ready with his suitâ€"case in hand in the lobby of the coach. He was first off the train; almost first at the exit. As he went through a slim youth in a blue suit deâ€" tached himself from the crowd and rushed at him. "Allo, Bill!" "Hello, Raoul! Butâ€"you‘ve shaved off your beard!" "Quite English, am I not? But what wind brings you south, Bill? And why haven‘t you written?" "Hi â€" steady!" said Brocklebank. "Business is business, eh? I wish to stand here a few moments without talkâ€" ing, my friend, and watch the exit." "You‘re waiting for someone? I am de trop, perhaps?" ""Never, Raoul." On the contrary, very recessary to me," said ‘Brocklebank, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I‘m gcing to point a man. Remember him like the very devil. Photograph him inside that black head of yours so that you‘d recognize him anywhere." Well, there it was. Through the acciâ€" dent of Ackerton‘s présence, Narrowâ€" evyes had become aware of him. A mean and timid creature. Harrison had suggested as much. But thenceforth he would be on his guard . . . "O! Olâ€"a mystery? But certainly I remember faces well. You speak of the gentlemar not too cordiallyâ€"â€"â€"*" "I‘ll tell you later. Get back hereâ€" stand in frort of me, Raoul. He must not see me. I want to know where he The stream of passengers through the platform gate swelled and diminished and had almost ceased before the man with the narrow eyes came through looking furtively right and left. He carried a light suitâ€"case. a man who played a part was up to no good. Brocklebark knew the man and he knew the type. goes. Nowâ€"attention! N "That dne,” said â€" Brocklebank, crouching behind Guichard at the corâ€" ner of the news stand. And men like Ackerton did not apâ€" prove of masquerading. In their minds "That one? Dirty type, I ‘celieve! You want him watched? Leave it to From : the shelter of his corner BRrocklebank saw Narrowâ€"eyes surâ€" reunded by eager porters, waving them off, looking desperately at ths enâ€" trance gate beyond which a sea of taxis and trucks, passengers and touts, rolled and roared. He saw Guichard go up and shoulder the porters aside, raise his hat and speak to Narrowâ€"syes. Eviâ€" dently he spoke in English, for Narrowâ€" eyes turned to him in manifest relief. Now they were talking fast. Guichard was pointing. Guichard was taking the suit case. They were going off together. The rolling outside swallowed them up. me. And youâ€"â€"? Brocklebank glanced up at the big clock. In a few second Brocklebank folâ€" lowed, got clear of the jamb, and lookâ€" ed about the station yard. Brocklebank turn:d back. Goodâ€" whatever Narrowâ€"eyves did and whereâ€" ver he went, Raoul would know his every movement. For the present thers was Ackerton. He passed the station wall into the garden of the Hotel Terminus . . . A bedroom on the second floor. The porter who had brought him up knockâ€" ed and ertered. Brocklebank heard him passed through a narrow dressing room into the bedroom.~ Ackerton stood by the table with Brocklebank‘s card in his hand. "Good evenirg, Bill," he said. "Whatâ€" ever brings you to Marseilles? Thought you were in America. How d‘you know "Eleven," he said. "I‘ve got to see a man at the hotel right here. T‘ll be down at La Joliette by midnight, Raoul." "Righto! You see I‘ve not forgotten my English. Au revoir." He caught sight of them crossing the road from the angle of the station builaings and slowly walked that way. Guickard hailed a taxi returning empty by the ramp from the western side of the station. They both got in. It drove away. Ackerton‘s veice in reply, "Qu‘il entre!" "Yesterday afternoon, I took a ticket in London for Algiers. I‘m supposed to be crossing by the Navigationâ€"Mixte boat toâ€"morrow. From Paris toâ€"day I had a seat in a compartment with two old ladiesâ€"regular déars, only they obâ€" jected to smoking. So I had my cigar after dinner in the restaurant car. When I‘d got back to my corner and settled down a man I know walked along the corridor and was surprised to see He came in, suggested we shcould go and fird a smoker and have a chat. We did find a smoker in the next coach, with only cne man in it. He answerc@ me in French when I askâ€" ed him a polite question; but I could have sworn he was an Englishmanâ€" and what‘s more, Bill, I could have sworn he was you!" Brocklebank stirred. "Now, don‘t barge into my yarn. It‘s curiousâ€"worth listening to. As a matâ€" ter of fact, Bill, I did swear that. I went so far as to tell him that if he wasn‘t Brocklebank I‘d eat my ‘soots. A mere figure of spesch, of course," Ackerton twinkled as Brocklebank lookâ€" ed at his feet. "Now, why do you think Ackerton‘s eyes twinkled so merrily that Brocklebank pulled up short. "Ah, well, of course, Bill Dam‘ nice of you to come and see me. How‘s your mother? When d‘you see How‘s business in New York? Half a moment â€"‘* as the door opened. "What‘ll you have? A spot? Right . . Deux whisâ€" kyâ€"soda, garcon . . . Hope you‘re makâ€" ing a fortune, Bill? More than I am." I was so insistent?" "Can‘t tell," said Brocklebank. "Because the fellow with me was unâ€" dr the impression that the man was a Frenchman and couldn‘t understand anything he said, and he was just about to blow off on a subject which in my opinicn should be kept secret." If Ackerton‘s cue was to ignore what had passed in the train, it was not for Brocklebank to raise the topic. <For the moment, anyhow. He talked of his mother in Gloucestershire, of his illâ€" luck in New York. Ackerton listen*d. The drinks arrived. They said "Here‘s how!" "Don‘t interrupt. Yes, an illusionâ€" one of those funny ideas that one gets out of resemblances. A fellow the very spit of you, dressed exactly the scame way. In the train, coming down from Paris. Noâ€"don‘t interrupt. Have anâ€" cther spot and keep quiet. You can, you krow, if you‘re anything like your father. I‘m going to tell you about it. I was here? Sit down. Have a drink?" He stepped to the wall and touched a bellâ€"push. "You‘re very good, Sir Arthur," Brockiebank stammered. "I‘m in Marâ€" seillesâ€"for a day or twoâ€"on business. Heard you were here. Thought I‘dâ€"" "Where are you staying, Bill?" Ackerâ€" ton asked. "Down at La Joliette with a friend." "La Joliette? What a placs!" "A friend of my father‘s," said "Ah, that‘s different. Well, Bill, good luck, and may you get back without a knife in your ribs. By jingoâ€"I must tell you a story! Just listen, Smoke a cigar. If people interrupt, it puts me off ." Brocklebank acceptsd the cigar and sat back in his chair, looking a little dubious. "Do you know, Bill," said Ackerton, "I had a sort of illusion that I‘d already seen you this evening?" "Ah!‘"‘ said Brocklebank, looking Ackerton straight in the eye. They held each cother so. "Ah," said Brocklebank again. "But you said he was about to blow off. I suppose he didn‘tâ€"â€"" "An illusion!" Brocklebank exclaimâ€" ed. "Dam‘ clever of you to see that, Bill. One might almost think you were really there yourself instead of your double. Well, I won‘t say I knew, though I could give a pretty good guess. But you‘re stopping the yarn. It‘s what comes after that matters. I get back to my seat. In three or four minutes my friend comes along and calls me into the corridor. Has regular wind up. "No,â€"I never gave him a chance. I threw away my cigar and left." "Indeed? Then you must have known beforehand what the secret was." this mawdlous method ago. ‘ says Mrs. A. H E{“ ‘dmonton, Alta. *"*With gauakef Easy Method of kmg. l find 1 can make more delicious bread a rolls in half tfit time, with half the trouble." MRS. A. H. ELLIOTT "I wish I‘d known about Always the Same F ADVANCE. TTMMINS, ONTARIO .a ¢ *‘ . "IT DOESNT T. 1 BAKE WITH T AE FEASY BAK!! Always the Same @ Alwa for Bread, Cakes and Pastry Just imagineâ€"no kneading, no overnight setting, and no waste, because results are always the same, always delicious. The (guaker Easy Method of Baking has been proven and is now in use in thousands of households throughout Western Canada. Send the coupon today for your FREE booklet telling how you, too, can bake this easier . .. quicker . . . surer way. (iuaker Flour, a product of the makers of Quaker Oats, is the best flour you can buy for bread, rolls, pastries, cakes and all purposes. Ackerton got up, squirted some soda into his glass, took a drink, and stood in front of Brocklebank, wagging an admonitory finger. "I should say, ‘Look here, monsieur, â€"I don‘t know how you got into this or why you‘re in it. But you‘re up against a gang of crooks, and ons of the crookedest of all the crooks is that fellow who went into your compartment to smoke a cigar. He‘s a yellow dog, and in that respect, monsieur, no doubt you have kis msasure. But yellow dogs have teeth, and they bite when you‘re not looking. So just beware of him, that‘s all. " Ackerton sat down again. "Have another spot, Bill? No?â€"well, just as you like. You‘d think that was good advice, wouldn‘t you? And if you were th2> Frenchman, what would you either a madman or a dangerous criâ€" minalâ€"held him up with a gun, chased him out of the compartment. I say such desperate people ought to be put under lock and key and what‘s he going to do azsout it? He says, Nothing: doesn‘t want to be mucked about with police and magistrates in Marseilles, beâ€" cause his business is urgent. Now, what d‘you make of that?" "Naturally you‘d ask me that. But put yourself in the place of that Frenchman. What d‘you think could have made him threaten my friend with a gun?" "Not knowing your friend, I can‘t say. Perhaps he didn‘t approve of his face. But of course it‘s possible that your frignd threatened him first." Says that Frenchman I felt him with is Brocklebank shook his head. "What do you make of it yourself, Sir Arâ€" thur?" ‘"‘The very thing that occurred to me, Bill. My word!â€"you‘re a wonder. But if he did the Frenchman must have been mightly slick to get a bead on him. And there‘s no doubt he did, for the fellow was scared stiff. Why should the Frenchman be ready with a gun like that?" "Well, Bill,â€"if that young Frenchâ€" man came to me now and asked for my advice, d‘you know what T‘d say to him?" Brocklebank considered for a few seconds the form of his oblique answer to this oblique question. "I should say, "Merci, monsieur. I have already perceived that Yellow Dog is a crook. In fact, as soon as he got out of the train he was put under surâ€" veillance.â€"â€"* SIR ARTHUR ADVISES Ackerton brought down his fat hand with a slap on his knee. "I can only suppose," said Brockleâ€" bank, "that he was prepared for emerâ€" gencies." "Yeâ€"es, I see. Knew my friend by sight, or knew %omethmg of his secret businessâ€"eh?2" "Of course there‘s always a possiâ€" bility," Brocklezank rsplied, sentenâ€" tiously. "No, but I‘m sure you‘d give him exâ€" cellent advicse, Sir Arthur." " ‘HMe‘s under . surveillance now, and will he till he leaves Marscilles. Neverâ€" theless, monsieur, I‘m obliged to you for the warning.‘ That‘s what I should say if I were the Frenchman," said Brocklebank. "But, Sir Arthur, I should probably ask you a question. ‘Do you think, monsieur, that Yellow Dog has made up his mind whsther I‘m really myself or Mr. Brocklebank?‘ " say? .H "Oh, as to that," answered Ackerton, "I should tell him he‘d got Yellow Dog guessing. On the whole Yellow Dog thinks he‘s a mad Frenchman." "And you wouldn‘t be inclinded to give him a bit more information, Sir Arthur?" "As how, Bill?" "Oh, for exampleâ€"the nature of the secret susiness, or your own interest in it.’9 "No. Anyhow, not unless he became exceptionally matey with me and told m all about his own interest in it." "Ah." Brocklebank satâ€" thinking, frowring. "Not even whether he was likely to come across you again in conâ€" nexion with the business?" "How could he, Bill, when I‘m off to Algeria toâ€"morrow?" ME 4) io ontoges cce e snb \"iT DoESN‘T TAKE ANY TIME To BAKE WITH THE QUAKER METHOD OF EASY BAKING. YOU DONT HAVE TO KNEAD DOUGH OR SET A SPONGE OVERNIGHT. AND ARE THESE ROLLS GOOD, TRY THEM! "Bill," said Ackerton, ‘"your Frenchâ€" man‘s unnaturally cute. _ No!â€"unless he gave me his full confidence I should tell him nothing." "In that case it would be a pity, but I should to say as the Spaniards do, Go with God. boy. And now, Bill, when we get back to London, what about coming down to Woldingham for a weekâ€"erd?" So ended this queer ex#@reiss in obliâ€" quity. Brocklebank left the iintel deepâ€" ly puzzled by Ackerton‘s attitude, but still more deeply by the circumstai:ces that had brought him and Yellow Do into convergence upon Marseilles at this special time. "Salute!" said Brocklebank to the halfâ€"dczen longshoremen who sat round a table playing cards and looked up as he passed in. "Salut, le bourgeois," they answered. ‘"Bon jour, Madame Guichard," he said to the lady who sat behind a zinc counter. "Supposed to be off to Aigeria, wasn‘t it?" Brocklebank suggested. "Of course," Brocklebank pleaded, "he might be pledged to disclose nothingâ€"" He called up a taxi in the station yard. A quarter to twelve. was driven past the Porte d‘Aix into a narâ€" row street, where he drew up at the door of the Cafe du Rat. The familiar dcor swurg cpern. He stepped into a cave of blue cigarette smokse, murmerâ€" ing voices, and faintly heard music.‘ F. N. Whaley A. Nicolson 7 Reed Block USE QUAKER FLOUR AND THE QUAKER METHOD... THAT‘S THE SECRET OF MAKING LIGHT DELICIOUS BREAD AND ROLLS IN HALE THE TIME" â€" "Monsieurâ€"â€"" she said to him, and then, ‘"Mon dieu! can it be you, Bill!" And in the room behind, where Raoul awaited him and behind a haze of capâ€" oral smoke Guichard pere was winding a gramophone ard a dozen couples were waiting <to dance, "Sapristi!l â€"but, is it you, Bill?" Brocklebank pere, who had dragged Guichard pere to safety that terrible day in March 20 years agoâ€" would you have thcught him anything but a Tommy doing a good turn to poilu? But certainly not. Or when he and Brocklebank fils stepped off an old schooner in the Bassin de la Joliette six years ago ard found their way to the Cafe dau Rat, and spent some summer weeks idling a‘sout with boats by day and smcoking and spinning yarn in the bar at night: would you have thought them rich bourgeois? Anyway, Brockleâ€" bank fils was now rich, for all the drinks he had bought for the customers of the Rat that night cost him every sou of fifty francs, which was sheer waste. ' That extravagance was at the same»e moment the theme of Racul‘s discourse in the rcom under the tiles which Brocklebank shared with him. Bill must have made a million in America to throw mon*y about like that. Whereâ€" upon Brocklebank said, ‘Listen, Raoul;‘ and Guichard listered for an exciting half hour to the tale of events which had brought Brocklebank to Marseilles. (TO BE CONTINUED) PAGE THREE AlliMustrations brom