The Citizen (Tulsa, Okla.), Vol. 11, No. 23, Ed. 1 Friday, August 25, 1911 Page: 3 of 8
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SYNOPSIS.
Ths glory onent with a ii'rMm from
Dorothy March In the opera box of Mr*
Missloner, a wealthy widow It I* oc-
casioned when Mm Missloner's necklace
break*, scattering the diamonds all over
the floor. Ourtls Griswold and Bruxton
Sands, society men In love with Mrs Mis-
•ioner. gather up the gem* (iriawold
atrpa on what I* supposed to be the cele-
brated Maharanee and crushes It. A Hin-
du.) declares It waa not the genuine. An
♦Xpert later pronounces all the stones
substitutes for the original. Detectives
Donnelly arul <'arson investigate They
decide that the theft of the original gems
was accomplished by some one in the
house Miss Kltnor Holcomb, confidential
companion of Mrs Miasioner, is bus-
pec tod. One of the missing diamonds la
found in her room. Mrs Miasioner pro-
tests that Elinor Is Innocent, but she Is
taken to prison. Meantime, in an up-
town mansion, two Hindoos, who arc In
America to recover the Maharanee, dis-
cuss the arrest. Detective Blitz takes up
tile rase He evidently bellgvcs Kiino- In-
nocent and asks the co-operation of Dr.
Lawrence Fitch, her dance. In running
down the real criminal lie advises Elinor
not to seek hall. Britz Investigates affairs
at the Missloner home He learns that
Mrs. Miasioner had the diamonds In Paris
With her.
CHAPTER IX.—(Continued.)
As the detective left the office, he
could not help a feeling of depression
at the slow progress of events. As yet,
the intricacies of the mystery were
vaguely outlined in his mind. He saw
Ihem as a floating mist, heavy with
possibilities but charged with delusive
signs of beckoning trails that he In-
stinctively knew led to nowhere. He
was still treading lightly the mazes
of the case. One false step might be
fatal, and he preferred to remain In
a crouching attitude of watchfulness,
ready to spring from cover at the
proper moment.
Much ns he deplored his enforced
Inactivity, he nevertheless had faith
la the final outcome. A quick mental
•urvey of the case convinced him that
the first necessity was to find the
maker of the paste stones. Whoever
made the duplicate Maharanee would
surely iec"ll having done so. There
were few Europeon firms that could
have made the stone. It was doubtful
whether any American manufacturer
cou’.d have turned out a substitute to
fool the eyes of Mrs. Miasioner, even
for a night. It Is hard enough to get
the compact brilliance of the diamond
Mn a small paste gem; Infinitely more
difficult Is it to manufacture a coun-
terfeit Maharanee. Britz knew that
whoever copied the cut and luster of
that marvelous stone was an expert
^ of high caliber. No faint shimmer of
glass could have availed to deceive
Mrs. Missloner. The laboratory Are
that gleamed from the duplicate was
the work of years of experiment, and
only in Paris, Britz believed, was the
art of manufacturing paste gems suf-
ficiently developed to bring forth a
satisfactory duplicate of the Mahara-
nee.
Three weeks, at least, must elapse
before word would come from Logan.
The emissary sent abroad waa himself
a diamond expert. Before entering
the Detective Bureau, he had been a
foreign agent of the United States
Treasury Department. If the dupli-
cate necklace was manufactured
abroad, Logan would find the manu-
facturer without delay. Britz had
faith in his man, and he waited Im-
patiently through three weeks of tor-
ment for the first cablegram. It came
finally, and he opened It with nervous
Ungers.
“Missloner necklace manufactured
from drawings by three firms. Orig-
inal never In possession of manufac-
turers.” •
Britz let the telegram flutter to the
floor.
"I knew it!” he burst forth. “They
wouldn’t have dared to take the orig-
inal out of the safe without immedi-
ately replacing It with the duplicate.”
He picked up the message and
burst into the Chief's room.
■'Head it!” he exclaimed.
The Chief’s eyes drank in the
words, but his brain failed to grasp
their underlying meaning.
, “I don’t see that this proves any-
thing,” he remarked.
"It proves everything," volleyed
Britz. “It proves that the thief was a
clever draughtsman. It proves that
he spent weeks sketching the neck-
lace, stone by stone, and it proves,
too, that he went to Paris to have the
duplicate made.”
"It proves all that,” agreed the
Chief. “But who had the opportunity
to see the necklace a sufficient num-
ber of times and long enough to make
the sketches? Who but Miss Hol-
comb?”
| "I will find someone who had al-
most as good an opportunity," Brit*
returned confidently.
' "And if you do, what will It mean?"
asked the Chief.
I “It will mean something to work
on," the detective said.
The next twenty-four hours Britz
•pent In the quiet of his home,
his mind focused on the prob-
lem before him, trying to map out his
line of procedure. Plan after plan he
discarded as worthless. He could have
struck out blindly In the hope of
r stumbling on a trail, but that was not
Blitz’s method. Crime mysteries were
to him scientific problems to be solved
by scientific means. Step by step he
went over the ground already covered,
and then swept the outlook, with the
P 1 keen searchlight of his mind.
j By, a process of elimination he trle(J
to sift the real thief from the group
of suspects on whom his mental ef-
forts were concentrated. He was un-
able to drag forth the culprit. Then he
sought to discern the motive ior the j
crime In the action of each possible
criminal, but he could come to no sat-
isfactory conclusion.
“More information, more informa-
tion Is needed before the real work ;
can begin!” he murmured
in his preoccupation he did not ob-
serve the door open and the servant
show in a subordinate from Head-
quarters. Not until the visitor spoke
did he become aware of his presence.
"Two cablegrams for you. sir,” the
subordinate said.
The first cablegram aroused no emo-
tions in the detective.
“Have obtained original drawings
Will sail to-morrow with them," the
message from LogAn read.
He opened the second envelope and
read the contents half a dozen times,
as if to stamp them Indelibly on his
mind.
"Drawings for duplicates taken to
manufacturer by young woman. Clave
name of Elinor Holcomb.”
Britz dismissed the visitor, left the
house, and hastened to the office of
Dr. Fitch. Taking the Important
cablegram from his pocket, he handed
it to the physician. The doctor's eyes
lingered on each word. His face paled,
his eyes bulged forward, a violent
tremor ran up and down Ills frame.
"This is awful!" he groaned.
“It’s groat news for you and Miss
Holcomb," the detective smiled.
Fitch eyed him in perplexity. The
detective met his inquiring gaze stead-
ily, and, slowly folding the cablegram,
he said;
“It proves beyond question she had
no part in the crime.”
“How?” Pitch demanded eagerly.
“If Miss Holcomb had been clever
enough to plan tho theft, she’d have
know'n better than to go about Paris
ordering the duplicates. Also, if she
had taken the diamonds, she’d never
have permitted one of them to remain
in her room In Mrs. Mlssioner’B
house. No, whoever stole those gems
deliberately tried to throw suspicion
on her.”
"But who could have conceived such
a dastardly crime?” Fitch blurted, a
wave of anger sweeping his frame.
"Whoever It was,” Britz returned,
“either was actuated by enmity to-
ward the young woman, or knew
enough about the Missloner household
to realize that suspicion would natur-
ally fall on her, and therefore he de-
cided to use her as a cloak to hide
his own Identity. However, I now
have something to work on, something
that will produce quick results. Dr.
Fitch, you may tell Miss Holcomb
that in my calculations she Is entirely
eliminated from participation In the
crime. You may Inform her also that
the hunt for the thief has begun.”
Before the physician recovered
from the pleasant shock of the de-
tective’s words, Britz was hurrying
down the steps.
CHAPTER X.
Dorothy March Talks.
Matinee girls in the Forrest Theater
differ from their sisters of other New
York playhouses In that they are far
more serious than anybody in the eve-
ning audiences. Caramels, marshmal-
lows, chocolate creams are forbidden
by the unwritten law of their cult.
Tho utmost nourishment one of them
can allow herself is a salted almond
nibbled surreptitiously between de-
corous little outbursts of kid-gloved
applause. It is not the sort of gather-
ing in which one would expect to find
the busiest sleuth of the headquarters
staff, especially with a great diamond
mystery on his hands. Yet, on one
of those warm January afternoons
that make the metropolis wonder if it
is being metamorphosed into a winter
resort, one of the most Interested aud-
itors in the select little theater was
Detective-Lieutenant Britz, of Man-
ning’s staff.
Britz found the somebody he sought
when his gaze fell on a slim little fig-
ure In the trimmest of dove-colored
gowns, sitting in the fifth row ofT the
center aisle. Instantly his last pre-
tense of attention to the play van-
ished. Keeping his eyes on the gray
curves of the girl in the fifth row, he
quitted his post at one side of the
house and walked slowly to the main
exit, whence he watched her until the
curtain fell on the first act. Mean-
while, he scribbled on a card, slipped
a liberal tip into the receptive hand
of an usher, nnd indicated the object
of his interest. When the curtain fell
on the first act, the usher hurried
down the aisle, and presented the
card to the girl In gray.
"If Miss March.’’ read the young
woman, "will spare a few minutes to
Britz, of Headquarters, she will con-
fer a favor and serve her friend, Mrs.
Missioner.”
Dorothy gathered her wrap, glasses
and program quickly and followed the
usher to the hack of the theater. The
youth led her to the famous detective,
whom, though she had heard of him
through Doris Missloner, she beheld
for the first time.
"You wished to see me?" Inquired
Dorothy. It was a banal question, and
a flush tingod her cheeks as she re-
alized It* superfluouBness could not es-
cape tlie greatest detective in New
York. But Britz seemed not to notice
it, and the simple directness of his
manner put the girl at her ease.
"I took the liberty, Miss March,” he
said pleasantly, “because 1 saw you
across the orchestra, and 1 need a
6liort course in social knowledge.”
His smile robbed tho reply of flip-
pancy.
"Fancy!" said Dorothy. She was so
utterly at sea as to the detective’s
purpose she could think of nothing
else to say save: “I fear you have
sought a poor teacher.”
“Well, I don’t know now,” Britz re-
turned, looking at her with respectful
admiration. “You see, you're a soci-
ety girl, and I know nothing of so-
ciety, and there's something I want
to know—something I ought to
know.”
“If there’s anything I can fell you,
Mr. Britz, I’ll be glad to do so,” Dor-
othy volunteered. “Especially if it
will help you to find Mrs. Missloner's
diamonds.”
“I’m not sure It will,” said Britz. “It
may, however, save me from seeking
them in the wrong place. You seemed
to enjoy the play, Miss March.”
This shift of Buhjects was so ab-
rupt that if Dorothy's breath had not
already been coming in catches, she
might have gasped. It was evident
detectives were more original than
society men. She wondered absently
if the type was worth studying.
“Why, yes," her hesitating answer
came. "I believe it’s considered one
of the best hits of the season. Very
elevating, you know, and—well, differ-
ent.”
“Modern, Miss March?”
“It has two periods. The first deals
with the life of today, the second
harks back to the early Victorian pe-
riod with, I understand, an abrupt re-
turn to the present.”
She was chatting quite easily with
the detective now. Had she been
reared in Mulberry street Instead of
on Murray Hill, she could not have
felt more natural.
“Now, this society subject—by the
wray. Miss March.” Britz switched
again, “is there as much difference
between social life then and now?”
“Oh, a great deal, 1 should say."
Her eyes twinkled. "Of course, I can-
not speak with authority—from per-
sonal observation.”
"I wouldn’t ask ypu to tell me any-
thing about Ward McAllister from per-
sonal observation. Miss March," said
the sleuth. His gallantry on occasion
was the wonder of the Central office.
Dorothy looked alarmed. Could It
be great detectives wasted time on
compliments, too? But a side glance
at the detective’s serious expression
reassured her. It was manifest even
to a debutante he had no idea of ma-
king an impression along that line.
She laughed frankly and looked at
him again in the friendliest way.
“I know you don’t want to ask me
about anything so recent as tho Span-
ish war,” she raid, "now, do you?"
"Candidly, I don't,” he rejoined.
"To tell you the plain truth, I don't
know exactly what I wish to ask you
nor how to ask it, but I have an idea
you can help me, and I am sure you
will for Mrs. Missloner's sake.”
"And Miss Holcomb's?’’ asked the
girl eagerly. "She, too, you know, is a
dear friend of mine."
"And Miss Holcomb’s,” answered
the headquarters man warmly. "Let
me say, too, my dear young lady, as
one old enough to he your—your—’’
“Don’t say my brother, Mr. Brite,”
Interposed Dorothy mischievously. "I
—I—well, I don't really see how I can
be a sister to anybody else.” She felt
impelled to treat this strangely
natural man naturally—she, who de-
spite her inexperience, could freeze
presumption with a glance, felt that
way. It was a tribute to his adapta-
bility.
Britz laughed.
“Mlsa March,” he said with more
heartiness in his tone than had col-
ored It in many a day, “if I were not
so busy. It would be a delight to be
an elder brother to you. But I guess
you're not interested In mr Impulses.
and wo wore talking of the play.”
"Oh, yes, ’the play's tho tiling.'"
Dorothy countered with keen relish
of the sltuutlon. if subtlety was ills
intention, she would show him what a
woman—Dorothy was all of nineteen
—a woman could do. “I never would
have supposed," she added, allowing
herself full measure of mischief, "that
a famous detective could he a matinee
man.”
Ilrltz winced. His read) good na-
ture parried her shafts, however, ami
It was with the same slow smile that
he replied;
“Does the author reconcile the man-
ners of the two periods, or, is tho
piece one of tlx se problem plays that
leave everything to tho audience?
You see, Miss March," ho went on,
“Mulberry street gets to Broadway
occasionally.”
"I don’t know, Mr. Britz.” She tried
to recall the advance notice of the
production. “This is tho first time
I’ve seen It. I dare say the play-
wright has bridged the gap some-
how."
"It’s a wide gap to bridge,” ob-
served the detective thoughtfully.
“From reading nineteenth century nov-
els, I should say it would he hard for
the writer to hold intere.it with such
a groundwork for his plot. Things
were so different 50 years ago."
“Exactly what my grandfather
says,” Dorothy retorted, fun flashing
In that mlgnon face. “But we'll know
soon how the author has succeeded,”
she added. “The orchestra Is nearing
the end of this selection.”
“Even their amusements were differ-
ent,” mused Britz. “Instead of golf,
tennis, autolng, yachting, they had
archery, croquet, sketching and square
dances—1 don't suppose anybody in
society sketches nowadays. Miss
March?”
“I’d hardly say that," she replied.
“There are a few talented men—”
“And many women—”
"Oh, almost all women are more or
less artistic,” said Dorothy with con-
vlcltlon. "But one must not he un-
just to the men on that account.”
“Well, Miss March,” and his smile
from a younger man would have been
called caressing, “we've started with
discussion of the play, and we touched
on authorship, the founder of the Four
Hundred, the war with Spain and a
dozen other subjects. Funny how
chatter zigzags, isn't It? I was about
to say that from all I understand, the
society men of today are not as ac-
complished, even If they are talented,
as the beaux of good Queen Victoria's
girlhood. Come, now, I’d lie willing
to bet a box of bonbons you don’t
knowffialf a dozen men who can draw
anything except checks.”
"Oh, yes, I do!” she cried gayly.
Then, meditatively, "Half a dozen,
you say? Do you know, Mr. Britz, I
think you v in.’*
“You don’t know as many ns six’’”
Britz inquired, as if the fate of em-
pires hung on his winning the wager
that as yet was only a hypothesis.
“It’s humiliating, isn’t it?” she said
naively. “But I don’t. There are two
or three, though—Teddy Lorltner and
Mr Griswold, and that queer little
Frenchmen, Anatole—Auatole—oh,
you know who I mean?”
"Anatole Daubigny?”
"Yes—he draws the funniest, dear-
est little dogs.”
"And his monkeys. Miss March.
Don’t forget his monkeys.”
“Aren’t they simply—simply ravish-
ing?" the girl returned. "And have
you seen his newest satire on the
Newport set—a lot of apes nnd
baboons nnd chimpanzees In evening
dress sitting at the table with several
men and women? ‘A Family Heunlon,’
he calls it ”
"Delightful!" said Britz with en-
thusiasm equaling hers. “I perceive
we enjoy a good many things In com-
mon, Miss March.”
She smiled. It was not every mat-
inee girl who could interest a man
who solved world-famous mysteries.
"Isn’t it strange!"- she said. Then
the training of years recalled her to a
sense of what she was doing. "I fear
we've been very unconventional, Mr.
Britz," she said as primly as her
prettlness permitted. “But I've en-
joyed our little chat very much ”
“Which means 1 must he going,”
said Britz promptly, "If l‘m not to
spoil your enjoyment of the mid Vie
tori an scene. The orchestra has fin-
ished speaking its lit tie piece."
“Yes, there goes the curtain," agreed
Dorothy, rising hastily. "So glad to
have met you, Mr. Britz. I hope I've
been of some assistance about dear
Mrs. Missloner's jewels Good after-
noon."
"Hut, Mr. Britz,” she cried, “there
was something you wished to ask me
something that was to help you hud
the diamonds?”
"Some other time, Miss March,
thunk you," said Britz, smiling "I
won’t detain you now. Perhaps we’ll
meet at another matinee soon, with a
longer Intermission between tho acts.
Delighted to huvo made your ac-
quaintance, Miss March. I know
you're In a hurry to get hack to your
seat. Forrest audiences don't like to
he disturbed, you know. Good-after-
noon, Miss March, and—thank you so
much!”
He had cause to thnnk her, ho be-
lieved. For, In her girlish talk, she
had given him the first M' sloner
clue of the week—or, rather, Hhe hud
extended for him a thread of the
mystery tHat had occupied much of
Ills thoughts from the moment when
he received lagan's cable saying (he
paste jewels were made from
sketches. For days, he had sought
to learn who among Mrs. Missloner’s
intimates was artist enough to make
such delicate draughts of the dia-
monds as would he required by nn ar-
tificer for the manufacture of Imita-
tions. With that object, he had ascer-
tained Dorothy’s intention to go to tho
matinee in the Forrest and had gono
to tho theater to meet her under con-
ditions not likely to Interfere with
such gentle questioning of her as he
mount to do. His veiled interrogation
of the society girl had brought forth
the fact, that Curtis Griswold could
sketch—that the clubman was suffi-
ciently master of his pencil to have
his skill pretty generally known
among his acquaintances. Lorimer
and Daubigny, tho other society ar-
tists she had mentioned, were not, he
knew, In Mrs. Missloner's circle.
It was fortunate for Lieutenant
Britz, as woll as for Elinor Holcomb
and Doctor Fitch, and everybody
whose hopes hinged on the detective's
success in solving the great Missloner
diamond mystery, that long custom
made him thread the traffic of the
city’s throbbing artery automatically,
for so deeply did tho sleuth ponder
the possibilities of his newest Infor-
mation that he had several close es-
capes from taxicabs, private automo-
biles and trolley cars as he crossed
Broadway and bent his steps toward
Fifth avenue. The case had cleared a
little, but bis course was not much
plainer than it had been when he
dropped into the theater In quest of
further knowledge.
"It won’t do to call Miss March as
a witness," he mused, walking north
in the carriage-crowded avenue, with
that briskness characteristic of him
when his hialn was most active. “She
”1 Won’t Detain You Now.'
can’t absolutely prove anything.” It
was necessary to obtain tangible evi-
dence of Griswold's ability as a
draughtsman. How to do so without
alarming the clubmun was the present
problem.
Britz by no means was prepared to
Buspect Griswold of the robbery. He
realized thoroughly that Dorothy's in-
formation was all he hnd to indicate
Griswold any more than Sands, or
two or three others. He did not even
know whether Miss Holcomb could
draw, and it was no part of his pur-
pose to distress the imprisoned girl
with questions betraying the smallest
belief in tha accusation against her.
No; Britz always honest with himself,
could not say he suspected Griswold.
His method was the opposite of Don-
nelly's and Carson's. Instead of sus-
pecting everybody, as they invariably
did in cases at all mysterious, he
would net altach suspicion to anyone
without satisfactory proof. That was
the secret of his success. He was
more than a detective; ho was prose-
cutor, judge, Jury anil counsel to the
defense. It accounted for the fact
that be rarely made a mistaken ar-
rest, nnd that when he caused man
or woman to he placed in the prison-
er's dock, a conviction almost always
followed.
“Griswold, Sands. All, Blodgett—"
The names presented themselves to
the sleuth's mind In thut order as ho
hastened along with no particular
place as an objective merely walking
to stimulate his mentul process. It
always brightened Britz to pass tho
panorama of fashion in Filth avenue.
It was with nn almost fatherly feel-
ing he glanced at the rich, the debon-
air, (he gay sauntering along the side-
walks or roiling in automobiles and
carriages up nnd down the asphalt.
The safety of their wealth, sometimes
of their very lives, depended on tho
vigilance, courage nnd efficiency of
himself, and of the few men like him
on the police force of New York. So
fur as the rank and flic of the depart-
ment wero concerned, those carefree
sons nnd daughters of opportunity
might bo at (he mercy of the ablest
birds of prey in the human flock. It
was because Britz and his compeers
worked and watched nnd waited so
patiently, so devotedly, so ceaselessly,
that fashion nnd finance, coquetry and
commerce, could bask in the sunshine
of metropolitan prosperity.
A dark blue limousine standing at the
corner of Forty-fourth Btreet caught
his attention. For a moment he
studied it as he slackened his pace.
Then he stopped short, retraced his
steps, crossed to the east side of the
avenue, and, through the windows of
a wailing cab, trained his gaze on
Sherry’s fashionable restaurant in
front of which the costly automobile
stood. Dimly, through tho filmy lac#
curtains, lie saw the figures of those
lingering over afternoon tea, with a
few early diners. He could not dis-
tinguish their faces, but something in
the hearing of a woman at the first
window held his glance. Then a
waiter, moving Bllently about the ta-
ble, chanced to part the curtains with
his elbow, and in the momentary gap
between the folds of film Britz saw
the blondo beauty of Mrs. Missioner,
nnd the clear-cut features of Curtis
Griswold.
Britz settled himself to wait Tha
cabman, whose vehicle he was using
ns a redoubt, looked at him inquiring-
ly, but the detective fished out of his
pocket a fat cigar with a scarlet-and-
gold band, and in a moment he and
the cabby were chatting amlabiy. Tho
headquarters man had not long to
wait. Before the cabman had gene
far Into discussion of tho current po-
litical crisis, the door of the restau-
rant across the street was swung open
by a boy in many buttons, and Mrs.
Missioner appeared on the threshold.
She was followed ciosely by Griswold
and, after a moment's pause 1o glad-
den th$! henrt of the much-buttoned
youth, by a man the watching detec-
tive was somewhat surprised to see—
Bruxton Bands.
"Home," said Mrs. Missioner to her
chauffeur. Britz could not hear the
word, but he read It from her lips.
He saw tho widow step into her limou-
sine, saw Sands and Griswold follow,
saw the chauffeur throw his clutch,
saw the big car glide swiftly south to
wheel for a northward trip along the
avenue. Before the automobile
reached a turning point, the detective
sprang Into the cab, whispered an ad-
dress to tho driver, and added In a
low tone:
"Double your fare for speed.”
The cabman lashed his horse and,
knowing his craft, threaded his way
through tho traffic so quickly that in
a short time he was several blocks
ahead of the limousine. All the way
up the avenue the race continued,
Britz well in the lead. At the Fifty-
ninth street entrance, the automobile
swung into the park, but the cabman
urged his horse straight up Fifth ave-
nue, nnd so great was the gain made
by the short cut that a few blocks fur-
ther north he dropped his fare in
front of a mansion of imposing ugli-
ness. touched his hat in acknowledg-
ment of a generous fee, and was bowl-
ing eastward, halfway to Madison ave-
nue, when the Missioner car reap-
peared from the park’s Seventy-sec-
ond street gate.
“You at least can stop for a minute
of gossip," said Mrs. Missioner over
her shoulder as she preceded Sands
and Griswold Into her library. “Fi-
nance and club affairs can wait a lit-
tle while, nnd—oh!”
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
The Scientific Butler.
Science In its more awful forms is
not confined to schoolboy howlers. One
of the witty Canon Alnger's stories—
quoted in Mr. E. V. Lucas’ delightful
anthology of letters, entitled “The Sec-
ond Post”—proves it.
At a country house party a maid was
dressing a guest’s hair.
"1 hope, Parker," said the lady, "yon
are comfortable in your place?"
“Oh, yes, ma'am," the maid replied,
with great warmth. “The society
down stairs is so superior. The butler
leads the conversation.
"He Is a refined man,” she contin-
ued, wltti rising enthusiasm. "Indeed,
quite scientific. He lias boen telling us
all about evolution, and we quite under-
stand It now.
“He says," the tnahl concluded, earn-
estly, "that we aro all descended from
Darwin.”—Youth's Companion.
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Jourdan, R. L. The Citizen (Tulsa, Okla.), Vol. 11, No. 23, Ed. 1 Friday, August 25, 1911, newspaper, August 25, 1911; Tulsa, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc1078133/m1/3/?rotate=90: accessed April 18, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.