Entered August 29, 1882, (Hon. Timothy O. Howe, Postmaster-General), at the Philadelphia Post Office as second-class matter. Talcott Williams, LL. D. 347 Portrait of Julia Magruder Known, Known, All Known Chapter from "That Affair Next Door." By Anna Katharine Green. The Author's Purpose by the Author Biographical Sketch. Julia Magruder Three Novelists and An Young Historian James Barnes, Abraham Cahan, J. Bloundelle Burton, Robert S. Hichens, Notes from Boston With the New Books. "Warwick Library"" Evil and Evolution"-" Explanation of the Our Father and the Hail Mary "-" Dr. Faustus "-"The West Indies and the Spanish Main"-“ On the Face of the Waters"-" The Year of Shame "-" Memoir of Willian Barton Rogers"-" The Making of Pennsylvania"-"History of the Beginnings of the University of Pennsylvania"-" Mr. H. C. Bunner's Poems" "Habit and Instinct' -"Ancient India, Its Language and Religion"-" Phroso." "KNOWN, KNOWN, ALL KNOWN." CHAPTER FROM THAT AFFAIR NEXT DOOR," BY ANNA KATHARINE GREEN. PUBLISHED BY G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS. Mr. Gryce possesses one faculty for which I envy him, and that is his skill in the management of people. He had not been in Miss Althorpe's house five minutes before he had won her confidence and had everything he wished at his command. I had to talk some time before getting so far, but he-a word and a look did it. Miss Oliver, for whom I hesitated to inquire, lest I should again find her gone or in a worse condition than when I left, was in reality better, and as we went upstairs I allowed myself to hope that the questions which had so troubled us would soon be answered and the mystery ended. But Mr. Gryce evidently knew better, for when we reached her door he turned and said: "Our task will not be an easy one. Go in first and attract her attention so that I can enter unobserved. I wish to study her before addressing her; but, mind, no words about the murder; leave that to me." I nodded, feeling that I was falling back into my own place, and knocking softly entered the room. A maid was sitting with her. Seeing me, she rose and advanced, saying: "Miss Oliver is sleeping." Then I will relieve you," I returned, beckoning Mr. Gryce to come in. The girl left us and we two contemplated the sick woman silently. Presently I saw Mr. Gryce shake his head. But he did not tell me what he meant by it. Following the direction of his finger, I sat down in a chair at the head of the bed; he took his station at the side of it in a large arm-chair he saw there. As he did so I saw how fatherly and kind he really looked, and wondered if he was in the habit of so preparing himself to meet the eye of all the suspected criminals he encountered. The thought made me glance again her way. She lay like a statue, and her face, naturally round but now thinned out and hollow, looked up from the pillow in pitiful quiet, the long lashes accentuating the dark places under her eyes. A sad face, the saddest I ever saw and one of the most haunting. He seemed to find it so also, for his expression of benevolent interest deepened with every passing moment, till suddenly she stirred; The plaintive tone, the refined accent, seemed to astonish him. Laying down her hand, he answered gently: "I do not like to hear that from such young lips, but it assures me that I was correct in my first surmise, that it is not medicine you need, but a friend. And I can be that friend if you will but allow me.' Moved, encouraged for the instant, she turned her head from side to side, probably to see if they were alone, and not observing me, answered softly: "You are very good, very thoughtful, doctor, but "—and here her despair returned again "it is useless; you can do nothing for me." "You think so, remonstrated the old detective, but you do not know me, child. Let me show you that I can be of benefit to you." And he drew from his pocket a little package which he opened before her astonished eyes. "Yesterday, in your delirium, you left these rings in an office down town. As they are valuable, I have brought them back to you. Wasn't I right, my child?" 'No! no!" she started up, and her accents betrayed terror and anguish. "I do not want them; I cannot bear to see them; they do not belong to me; they belong to them." "To them? Whom do you mean by them?" queried Mr. Gryce, insinuatingly. "The-the Van Burnams. Is not that the name? Oh, do not make me talk; I am so weak! Only take the rings back." "I will child, child, I will." Mr. Gryce's voice was more than fatherly now, it was tender, really and sincerely tender. "I will take them back; but to which of the brothers shall I return them? To"-he hesitated softly"to Franklin or to Howard?'' I expected to hear her respond, his manner was so gentle and apparently sincere. But though feverish and on the verge of wildness, she had still some command over herself, and after giving him a look, the intensity of which called out a corresponding expression on his face, she faltered out: "I-I don't care; I don't know either of the gentlemen; but to the one you call Howard, I think." The pause which followed was filled by the tap-tap of Mr. Gryce's fingers on his knee. "That is the one who is in custody,' he observed at last. "The other, that is Franklin, has gone scot-free thus far, I hear." No answer from her close-shut lips. He waited. Still no answer. "If you do not know either of these gentlemen, "'he insinuated at last, how did you come to leave the rings at their office?" "I knew their names-I inquired my way -it is all a dream now. Please, please do not. ask me questions. O doctor! do you not see I cannot bear it?" He smiled-I never could smile like that under any circumstances-and softly patted her hand. "I see it makes you suffer," he acknowledged, "but I must make you suffer in order to do you any good. If you would tell me all you know about these rings—” She passionately turned away her head "I might hope to restore you to health and happiness. You know with what they are associated?” She made a slight motion. "And that they are an invaluable clue to the murderer of Mrs. Van Burnam ?'' Another motion. How, then, my child, did you come to have them?" Her head, which was rolling to and fro on the pillow, stopped and she gasped, rather than uttered: "I was there." He knew this, yet it was terrible to hear it from her lips; she was so young and had such an air of purity and innocence. But more heart-1ending yet was the groan with which she burst forth in another moment, as if impelled by conscience to unburden herself from some overwhelming load: I took them; I could not help it; but I did not keep them. You know that I did not keep them. I am no thief, doctor; whatever I am, I am no thief.' Yes, yes, I see that. But why take them, child? What were you doing in that house, and whom were you with? She threw up her arms, but made no reply. Will you not tell?" he urged. A short silence, then a low "No," evidently wrung from her by the deepest anguish. Mr. Gryce heaved sigh; the struggle was likely to be a more serious one than he had anticipated. "Miss Oliver," said he, "more facts are known in relation to this affair than you imagine. Though unsuspected at first, it has secretly been proven that the man who accompanied the woman into the house where the crime took place was Franklin Van Burnam." A low gasp from the bed, and that was all. "You know this to be correct, don't you, Miss Oliver?' O must you ask?" She was writhing now, and I thought he must desist out of pure com 66 Oh," she exclaimed in one involuntary burst, as she half rose to her knees, "if you could save me from appearing in the matter at all! If you would let me run away—” But Mr. Gryce was not the man to give her hope on any such score. Impossible, Miss Oliver, you are the only person who can witness for the guilty. If I should let you go the police would not. Then why not tell at once whose hand drew the hatpin from your hat and-" 66 Not if you must suffer more from your silence than from speaking. Not if men-I do not mean myself, child, for I am your friend-will think that you are to blame for the death of the woman whom you saw fall under a cruel stab, and whose rings you have?' "I!" Her horror was unmistakable; so were her surprise, her terror, and her shame ; but she added nothing to the word she had uttered, and he was forced to say again : "The world, and by that I mean both good people and bad, will believe all this. He will let them believe all this. Men have not the devotion of women." Alas! alas!" It was a murmur rather than a cry, and she trembled so the bed shook visibly under her. But she made no response to the entreaty in his look and gesture, and he was compelled to draw back unsatisfied. When a few heavy minutes had passed, he spoke again, this time in a tone of sadness: Few men are worth such sacrifices, Miss Oliver, and a criminal never. But a woman THE AUTHOR'S PURPOSE BY THE AUTHOR. Household Economics. A course of Lectures in the Getting on in the World; or, Hints on Success in Life. by mail, $2.10. Messages of To-day to the Men of To-morrow. By George C. Lorimer, D. D. 464 pp. 12mo, $1.10; by mail, $1.26. Municipal Reform in the United States. By Thomas C. Devlin. Questions of the Day series. 174 pp. 12mo, 75 cents; by mail, 85 cents. Service of Security and Information, The. By Arthur L. Wagner, author of "Organization and Tactics," etc. Third edition. Illustrated. 291 pp. Indexed. 8vo, $1.50; by mail, $1.65. Household Economics. By HELEN CAMPBELL. My hope in writing "Household Economics," as in giving the course in various universities, was and is to enlarge the thought of women in these lines. Domestic science as ordinarily taught is confined chiefly to the practical details of daily life. With the economic phase comes the larger meaning of the day's work; the relation of the home to the State and the scientific interpretation of many daily problems. Years of general investigation into the general conditions of women workers at home and abroad have made this need constantly plainer. A new understanding of all the questions involved in household economics is a part of general progress, and women and men alike are interested in the treatment of this subject as a vital part of sociology. CINCINNATI, OHIO, February 3, 1897. Helen Campbell. Getting On in the World. By WILLIAM MATHEWS. My object in writing "Getting on in the World" was, first, to give expression to thoughts which had been haunting my brain and clamoring for utterance for many years; and, second, to rouse and prick on timid and self-distrustful young men to high endeavor in the pursuits of life. BOSTON, MASS., January 16, 1897. "William Mathews. The Joy of Life. By EMMA Wolf. "The Joy Beyond the desire of making my story interesting my only thought in writing of Life" was to contrast the materialist with the idealist-and to express the belief that because we are human we cannot expect to grasp the sweet sanity of life which is permitted us, unless we combine with the level-headedness of the one the nobility of the other. SAN FRANCISCO, CAL., February 6, 1897. Emma Holf. Messages of To-day to the Men of To-morrow. By GEO. C. LORIMER. I wrote the above-named book to relieve my own mind on many points, and because I believed that my own views might be helpful to those who should come after me. I will not disguise, however, the fact that I am hoping for some profitable returns from the venture. BOSTON, MASS., January 11, 1897. Lonnier Municipal Reform in the United States. By THOMAS C. DEVLIN. My purpose in writing the essays on "Municipal Reform in the United States " was to express my views why so many reform efforts end in failure; to offer, what seemed to me, a few helpful suggestions, and to show somewhat clearly the true attitudes of the officials, the press, and the people-for part of the blame for bad city government attaches itself to all alike. JANUARY, 1897. Thomas && Drolin The Service of Security and Information. By ARTHUR L. WAGNER. "The Service of Security and Information," was written as a matter of military duty, in compliance with Orders No. 7, U. S. Infantry and Cavalry School, September 19, 1891, which orders were given in accordance with suggestions contained in a letter from the Headquarters of the Army, Adjutant General's Office, August 11, 1891. FORT LEAVENWORTH, Kan., January 14, 1897. Arthur L. Wagner, JULIA MAGRUDER. Miss Magruder is one of the group of writers the South is giving to American literature. She was born at Charlottesville, Virginia, at about the beginning of the late war, and was the youngest of the three daughters of Allan Bowie Magruder, a prominent Virginia lawyer, and his wife, Sarah Gilliam. Miss Magruder's infancy was spent at her birthplace. When she was only three years of age the Magruder family removed to Washington, where Mr. Magruder practiced law for several years, and where his daughters received their earliest education. Later Mr. Magruder's family vacillated between Washington and their home in Virginia, in both of which places the education of the three girls was continued. Julia Magruder was taught almost exclusively by governesses and by her parents. She has been writing fiction ever since she was a very young girl, and has written various short and serial stories which have never appeared in book form. Her first book, "Across the Chasm," was published anonymously in 1885, by Charles Scribner's Sons. This was followed by "A Magnificent Plebeian." Then she wrote two complete stories for Lippincott's Magazine-" At Anchor," and " Honored in the Breach." Two books for children were then published, "The Child Amy," and "Child Sketches from George Eliot." Then came "The Princess Sonia," republished from The Century Magazine, and next "The Violet," republished from The Ladies' Home Journal. Her last published book is a collection of short stories from the press of Herbert S. Stone and Company, and is called "Miss Ayr of Virginia." This, with "Dead Selves," the novel to What is it grieves thee to despair? Have you sinned That furies seek thee everywhere? Not so; I have lost my little ones dear; I covered them softly with robe of white I left them alone, without a fear, I am seeking them everywhere, far and near, The March wind thus her story told; Her sad soul, weary of searching pain, Of tears, and tears-sweet April showers : From "Blue and Gold," |