Empty is the cradle; baby's gone! --Old Song.
From one standpoint I have come close to the end of my narrative; from another, I am still at its beginning. But, with Tom's permission, I have placed the foregoing facts before the public in the hope that the statement may be read by somebody in Europe, Asia, Africa or America, who is able to assist us in solving a hard problem. The New York newspapers have mingled fact and fiction, realism and romance, in the articles bearing upon what they call "The Great Minturn Mystery," in a manner most annoying to my husband and myself. The only really sympathetic and enlightening account of the awful affliction that has fallen on our erstwhile happy home was printed by a Boston journal whose editor is a Buddhist. But I'm getting too far ahead of my story!
Yet I have nothing to relate that you, who keep abreast of the times, do not already know. You remember reading in your morning newspaper, a few months ago, of the strange disappearance from Mr. Thomas Minturn's town house of his baby, Horatio Minturn, and a guest, the well-known society favorite, Miss Gwendolen Van Voorhees. You have perused, I suppose, subsequent journalistic presentments of the case, telling how futile had been the search for our lost ones. Tom, as the public knows, has offered enormous rewards for the slightest clue that should serve to throw even a glimmer of light upon the most astounding disappearance of modern times. We have employed the most famous detectives in all parts of the world in our vain efforts to find some trace of the fugitives--if such Jack and Gwendolen may be called. But, up to the present moment, we have learned nothing that can help us in any way in our weary quest. In desperation, and as a last resort, I have written and published this account of the events that led up to our great loss. When the editor of a magazine insisted that I should choose a title for my amazing presentment of our weird experience, a lump came into my throat and tears bedimmed my eyes. Had not Jack himself, with a most uncanny foresight, chosen the title of my unwilling deposition? "Clarissa's Troublesome Baby!" Alas, how little did I realize at the time of his suggestion how appropriate would be this caption to my melancholy tale!
"Where's Gwendolen?" Tom had asked of me at breakfast upon the morning of the fateful day that was to shatter for all time my second husband's materialistic tendency of thought. "In the nursery, as usual, I presume?"
"She'd rather play with the baby than eat or sleep, Tom," I answered laughingly. "In the present dearth of nursemaids, Gwendolen's enthusiasm for Horatio is most opportune."
Tom laughed as he lighted his after-breakfast cigar.
"Let's go to the nursery, Clarissa, and bid them good morning. I haven't seen Horatio for forty-eight hours. I'm glad that Gwen likes him so well, but I really feel that I am entitled to a glimpse of the youngster now and again."
Thus did Tom and I gaily mount the stairway to our doom. We rushed, so to speak, with laughing faces, to the very edge of a precipice, and toppled over, with a quip half spoken upon our white lips.
As we entered the nursery, crying playfully to Gwendolen to abdicate the throne she had usurped, we were struck silent and motionless by the sudden discovery that the room was empty. Tom was, of course, less shocked than I by Jack's deserted nest. There came to me, as I stood there, cold and trembling, on the threshold of the nursery, the conviction that I was confronting the scene of another miracle, an environment within which I should never again be annoyed by psychical mysteries.
I was recalled to myself by Tom's voice saying:
"What do you suppose has become of them, my dear? Gwendolen! Horatio! Where are you?"
Ah, but the pathos of it all! Gwendolen! Horatio! Where are you? Were you wilfully, heartlessly selfish, indifferent, in your strange ecstasy, to the sorrow that you brought to others, or were you powerless in the grasp of fate, forced through psychical affinity to disappear thus weirdly from the sight of men?
You must see, dear reader, that what I have written cannot come to an end that will satisfy either your mind or your heart. I began with an exclamation point; I must conclude with an interrogation mark. And in that obligation I find that my tale resembles every human life. We come to earth with a cry, and we leave it with a question. So far as man is concerned, evolution has been merely a zigzag progress up from protoplasm to a problem.
And how has Tom withstood the unmaterialistic revelation that I have been forced to make to him and to the public? Has he been shaken in his faith in the teachings of Büchner, Haeckel and Herr Plätner? Of course, being a man, he is slow to admit that his nursery has vouchsafed to him more enlightenment than his library, but he has grown very gentle and sympathetic when I talk to him about the possibility that the dreams of the brooding East may be nearer the ultimate truth than the syllogisms of the practical West. You see, it was a condition, not a theory, which confronted Tom that morning in our empty nursery.
Nevertheless, he tells me that he has just hired a young detective, who is said to have a genius for solving mysteries that his older colleagues have abandoned as beyond their skill. Let me assure you, dear reader, that if Tom's latest employee gets on the track of Gwendolen Van Voorhees and little Horatio Minturn, I shall see to it that the public be instantly informed of the fact.
* * * * * * * *
A PURITAN WITCH
A Romantic Love Story
By MARVIN DANA
Author of "The Woman of Orchids," etc.
THRILLING * TENDER * ABSORBING
This is a romance that abounds in the best qualities of the best fiction: action that is essential and vigorous, sentiment that is genuine and pure, a plot that is new and stirring, a setting that is fitting and distinctive. The artistic conception of the story happily unites realism and romance. The reader's interest is aroused in the first chapter; it is increased steadily to the climax of a happy ending.
THE ILLUSTRATIONS ARE FROM
DRAWINGS IN PHOTOGRAVURE
By P. R. AUDIBERT
Crown 8vo, Cloth, $1.25
THE SMART SET PUBLISHING CO.
452 Fifth Avenue, New York City
* * * * *
The Vulgarians
BY EDGAR FAWCETT
Author of "The Evil that Men Do," etc.
An account of a trio from the West, who become immensely wealthy. Their entry into New York is full of both humor and sentiment.
In this story the author has achieved the best expression of his genius. Parvenus of immense wealth are here made real before the reader, and not only real, but lovable as well. The story is at once ingenious and simple, entertaining and profound. It is a most valuable picture of American life, drawn from facts, and must stand as an important contribution to literature.
COMMENTS OF THE PRESS
Boston Transcript.--"An excellent example of the author's skill."
Mail and Express.--"Typical of the author's talent in all its phases."
Willington News.--"An excellent story of American life."
Town Topics.--"Mr. Fawcett has evidently lost none of his cunning as a novelist; this story is full of power and vigorous effects."
Illustrated by Archie Gunn
Crown 8vo, Cloth, $1.00
THE SMART SET PUBLISHING CO.
452 Fifth Avenue, New York City
* * * * *
The Fighting Chance
THE ROMANCE OF AN INGENUE
By Gertrude Lynch
The story is a modern romance dealing with prominent public characters in Washington political life, depicting a vivid picture of a phase in the life of an honest statesman. The theme is treated with great skill by an author whose personal experience enables her to write luminously of department life. The love interest in the story is fascinating, while the plot is absolutely distinctive--as original as it is satisfying.
COMMENTS OF THE PRESS
Utica Press.--"A cleverly written story and has some fine characters."
N. Y. Journal.--"The story is as interesting as it is valuable."
Salt Lake Tribune.--"A fine story."
Boston Transcript.--"There is enough excitement and love interest in 'The Fighting Chance' to entice anyone who is alert for a good story."
Town Topics.--"One of those delightful comedies in which the fighting consists of wit combats, and the story is told with a vividness that makes it possible to visualize all the scenes and characters amid natural surroundings. The action is cleverly dramatic and the dénouement is skilfully held in suspense."
Illustrated by Bayard Jones
Crown 8vo, Cloth, $1.25
THE SMART SET PUBLISHING CO,
452 Fifth Avenue, New York City