RHEUMATISM.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 10926, 15 November 1913, Page 2

RHEUMATISM.

ITS C4TJSE A2JD OTTEE. Rheumatism is a most painful disease. Many are bent and physically disabled by the torture it inflicte. Tho disease may settle in the large muscles of the back, neok, or. thigh, or in tho joinis of the arms or leg». The pain may dart from one musolo to another, and may be constant or- occasional. But all are produced by tho same cause, excess uric acid in the blocd. KHEUMO is the best, the only sure remedy. It neutralises and drives out the poisonous acid, relieves the pain, removes the swelling, effects a speedy and permanent cure. From all cb.cm.i3t3 and stores tit 2s 6d and 4b 6d a bnttlo. 31

with regard to himself and his own people, when Winter interfered. " Sorry to interrupt you/' ho said, " but tho turn taken by to-night's crime demands your immediate attention, Mr Curtis. Do you knoiv you are vcaring the dead man's overcoat? " "Yos; I discovered that fact some time ago."

Curtis's prompt admission was more favourable to his cause than he could possibly realise then, though he had seen that the detective's extraordinarily brilliant eyes were fixed on the garment's blood-stained sleeve.

"And have you learnt the owner's name?" went on Winter quietly. "Yes—that is, I bc-lieve so, owing to a document I found in one of the pockets." "Ah, what was thatP " "It concerned another person, but I am prepared to tell you its nature if it is. absolutely essential." " Believe me, there must be no concealment—now." Something in tho detective's tone conveyed a hint of peril, of suspicion, to the ears of one so accustomed to dealing with his fellow-men as was Curtis. But he shook off the premonition of ill, and decided, once and for all, to bo candour itself where the authorities were concerned.

"It was a marriage license," he said. " And the names on itP "

"They were those of a Frenchman, Jean do Courtois, and of an English lady. Hermione Beauregard Grandison."

"So you havo imagined that the man -who was killed was this Monsieur Jenn de Coiirtois? " For the life of him Curtis could not wevont tho. tumultuous pumping of his heart from drawing some of the colour from his face.

"Who else?" he inquired, never flinching from Winter s searching gaze. . "No matter who owned the coat, or whom the license was intended for, the murdered man was no Frenchman, but a London journalist named Henry R. Hunter," said Winter. Then Curtis yielded to the swift conviction that he had unwittingly trapped Lady Hermione into a marriage on grounds that were inadequate and false.

"Good heavens! " he muttered, and, for the moment, .it was impossible for his hearers to resist the dreadful inference that, in some shape or form, he was implicated in the outrage which bulked so large in their minds. Mrs Curtis wanted to scream aloud, but she dared not. Even Devar was staggered by his friend's unaccountable The only outwardly unmoved individual present was Uncle Horace. He turned and pressed an electric bell; Winter glared at him, so he explained his action.

" I feel like a whisky and soda," he said blandly. " I ra'ther think Mrs Curtis could do with one also. In fact, five whiskies and sodas would he a really excellent thing." (To be' continued.)