HASTINGS
BRADLEY
Copyright by D. Appletone
Century Co, Ine,
WNU Service
SYNOPSIS
Lella Seton, young and beautiful and
An expert on paintings, is commissioned
to go over the collection of paintings
in the home of the wealthy Kellers in
New York, where a party is In progress,
From her window she witnesses a man
in another room strike a woman. Short.
ty after Mrs, Keller sends up word, ask-
ing her to join the party at dinner.
Leila hastily dresses and goes down.
Bhe is seated between Mr, Deck, a critic,
wnd Monty Mitchell, a noted lawyer.
introductions follow. There are Mr.
Harriden, Miss Letty Van Alstyn, Mrs.
Crane, Mrs, Watkins and Prince and
Princess Rancini, guests. Leila finds
she is taking the place of Nora Harrl-
den, Dan Harriden leaves the table,
und Mitchell explains he has gone up
to see how his wife's headache is, He
returns shortly, Deck, saying he must
put in a call, leaves. Upon his return,
he begs Leila to secretly take a mes-
mage to Nora “to take no steps until
I see you." Lella consents. Leila finds
the Harriden rooms empty and so in-
forms Deck. Coming out she passes
Letty, Harriden asks Princess Rancini
to run up and see his wife, The prin-
cess reports the absence of Nora. Har-
riden admits that he had a row, and
believes she Is spitefully hiding, Letty
tells of seeing Leila come from the
room. Leila accuses Harriden of having
struck his wife, This Harriden denies.
From the Harridens' window Lella sees
what proves to be Nora's lifeless body.
A ghastly head wound caused death.
Dan says she was lying on her bed
when he went to dinner, and when he
ran up later the room was dark, Think.
ing she was asleep, he left without see-
ing her. Mra, Keller comes upon a pool
of blood in the closet, A diamond chain
is missing. Donahey, police inspector,
questions the guests Harriden brands
Lella’s story of seeing a man strike a
woman a lie. Anson, a maid, tells of
seeing Deck outside the Harriden door.
Desk says he passed by In seeking a
fost handkerchief, Elkins, a servant,
tells of overhearing Deck threaten Mrs.
Harriden earlier in the day. Deck ex-
plains he was intoxicated and does not
remember, That night Leila awakes
with the impression of some one being
In her room and then hears steps in
the hall, Belleving she was mistaken,
she does not report it. Later Donahey
sends for Leila. She identifies the dress
he has as hers, Pinned to it is a hand-
kerchief containing the missing chain.
Leila tells of her intruder, Mitchell
tries to help clear her. Harriden ace
cuses Leila of being Deck’s confeder-
Rte, A large diamond is missing from
the chain. The handkerchief which
contained the diamond chain has one
corner torn off and is stained,
CHAPTER VI—Continued
HI
“Ah, there they differ. He thinks
before—they think after. So think
the Kellers. But people were drifting
about so, that it's easy to overlook
some one In the room. . . . I was next
to the last. Or Deck was, we differ
there. Letty Van Alstyn was the last.
Now what about Letty?"
“Well, what about her?” I echoed.
“She's cuckoo over Harriden” he
told me,
“Harriden?”
“Yep. She might have dropped In
to see Nora and Nora twitted her
about something—Nora knew all about
Letty's pash for Dan, and Letty got
in a rage and caught up something
that was handy. , . .»
I flung out, “But a girl couldn't have
killed her—like that—"
“Somebody killed her—Ilike that”
“And dragged her, first to a closet,
then to a window"
“You can do a lot when you have to.
Letty went up right after dinner,” he
pointed out. “She wouldn't give a
hoot in Hades what happened to any
one so she got clear. Tagging the
diamonds to you would be just her
line.”
“A sweet menagerie,” I commented.
“I know all these people involved —
except the Rancinis—and you don't—
I'm not sure but that gives you the
edge over me for you've no precon-
ceptions. Except about Deck,” he add-
ed, suddenly. “You think Deck is in-
nocent, don't you?”
Under the quizzical gleam of his
eyes, 1 felt the weight of his look
upon me, a shrewd, legal, estimating
look, and a sudden cold doubt of his
friendliness blew like a chill wind
through my uncertain mind
I bad a horrid thought. + What
was his own share in this involved
affair? At what time had he, him-
self, come down to dinner? About the
same time as Deck. Just before Letty
Van Alstyn. He had never liked Nora
Harriden; he had admitted it with a
frankness meant, perhaps, to disarm
suspicion.
My look twisted away from his but
not quickly enough. He rose, laugh-
ing at me with a chiding note of rail
lery.
“Shall we go see If my hankles
match?”
I looked again and laughed with
him; I felt horribly ashamed of my-
self,
CHAPTER VII
Clancy had returned and his report
three separate of handkerchiefs
possessions of Harriden, and of Kel
ler and of Deck.
Donahey sat glowering over that bit
of news,
Mitchell urged the immediate exam-
ination of the handkerchief and Dona-
hey agreed, sending Clancy up with it
to the picture gallery. But before I
could join him with my case of mate
rials I had to be subjected to a search
both of my belongings and of my per
son. I was told that this was a rou-
tine matter that everyone was un-
dergoing, In the effort to discover the
missing pendant.
After having seen that glittering
chaln brought out of the hanky in-
slde my dress I was really afrald they'd
conjure the famous pendant out of my
powder box or the toe of a slipper.
That demon thief might have tucked
it anywhere, I breathed a good deal
easier when the ordeal was over.
I was glad to be In the gallery again,
where Clancy was waiting beside a
card table that Elkins had set up. I
was grateful to have the work on the
handkerchief, grateful to Mitchell for
trying to range me on the side of the
investigators,
There were three people, I thought,
on whom suspicion might justifiably
rest; there were the Prince and Prin-
cess Rancinl and Letty Van Alstyn,
but there was not a scrap of evidence
against any of them.
No, there were four. I had to be
honest with myself; I couldn't pretend,
There was Alan Deck. And against
him was all the evidence they had.
I wanted to see Deck. I wanted to
talk with him. Not here, with Clancy
at hand-—yes, here, even though we
could say nothing that mattered. If I
could see him again, I thought I could
find an answer to that worrying um
certainty in me.
The testing was a difficult business,
The handkerchief had been so thor
oughly washed that I began to de
spair of uncertainty In my experi
ments, Not about the rust marks:
those I did make sure of.
Then, in one of the corners, close
under the fold of the hemstitched hem,
I found traces of stain that ylelded a
blood reaction.
“That's blood,” I sald,
In the intervals of waiting and dry-
ing I walked up and down the gallery.
I found myself wishing to get at the
records of these pictures to begin the
real work for which I had come. For
a few moments I forgot the night-
mare of that murder. I grinned at a
Magdalen, attributed to Titian, analo-
gous to the one at Naples, and then
I was caught by a lovely little Virgin
whose suppliant, adoring curves and
pure, poignant ecstasy made me yearn
to prove her the creation of Angelico
that she was labeled.
As my mind bit on these familiar
realities my nerves steadied, and when
I went down with the policeman to
make my report I was feeling more
like myself.
Alan Deck was with Monty Mitchell,
and when he suw me he came forward
quickly, with a “Good morning, accom.
plice!” in his mocking way. Monty
sald, “Find anything? And they both
came with me while I had my moment
of Importance, making my report to
Donahey.
I used all the words and technleal
terms that I thought he would not
know but the main facts were clear—
blood in one corner, and five marks
of rust,
Donahey nodded, as if he had
guessed it all the time, and I moved
away with Deck. Mitchell stayed with
the Inspector: I remember seeing him
turn the handkerchief about very slow-
ly In his hands
Deck sald thoughtfully, “That blood
rather disposes of the theory that the
diamonds might have been put there
by some one who just picked them up
~gfterwards.”
And at my assent he sald, “Well,
that's that!” In a bard voice.
Grant now appeared before us, an-
nouncing that a buffet luncheon was
being served In the dining-room. As
I went to wash my stained fingers 1
saw Miss Van Alstyn in the hall ahead
of me. As she paused at her door,
opposite that closed door behind
which Nora Harriden was lying, | saw
the maid, Anson, stop her, holding
something In her hand,
“Yes, I threw it away,” 1 heard Miss
Van Alstyn say. “It's broken—throw
it out™
“It's so pretty,” Anson murmured.
“If you don't mind my keeping it—"
“As you like,” sald Miss Van Al
styn indifferently and disappeared into
her room,
Out of an Impulse of friendliness for
that pretty Anson I turned and asked
her what she had,
“It's for the bhalr, miss, only the
comb is broken,” she told me. “Maybe
I could get another fixed on. It's so
pretty"
It was pretty — a sharp - pointed
crescent about four or five inches long,
glittering with bright brown stones,
The comb, at right angles to the cres-
cent, had been broken sharply off. 1
picked it up; it seemed a little large
and too heavy for anywhere except
the back of the head, above a froth
of curls. It was of some solld brown
metal and I thought another comb
could easily be soldered on.
“It's worth It.” I told Anson, and
she sald she had been afraid to carry
it away without asking, for fear it
had fallen in the basket by mistake.
I was reflecting that costume jew.
elry, to Miss Van Alstyn, was not
worth repairing, and then, staring at
those hard, pointed ends, that solid
metal
If a woman had a thing lke this in
her hands , , . If she struck ou: with
it, furiously, . . .
“When did you find this, Anson?"
Last night, she told me. When she
had been arranging the room for the
night,
“Were the broken pieces of the
comb in the basket, too”
“I did see some broken pleces. But
they went with the trash. They
couldn't have been fixed”
“With the trash? Where did the
trash go?
“Why, In the Incinerator, Miss,” she
answered, eyes widening at my ques
tions,
“And was the incinerator gol=g?
“Last night, mise? I couldn't say.
I know it hasn't been going this morn-
ing for that policeman gave orders not
to have anything burned.”
I turned the crescent about, No sign
of a blood film over any of its bright-
ness—but blood could be superficially
washed off in running water. A blow
with it, a jab with one of those vi-
clously polgted ends, would have bro-
ken off the comb, , . , She might not
have thought to wash off the pleces
of the comb, . , .
In Imagination I saw Letty Van Al-
styn snatching this crescent from her
hair, striking out recklessly. . . .
Anson was staring at me; I hand.
ed it back to her, saying something
about my interest in imitations to ex-
cuse my absorption In it. , , . Letty
Van Alstyn came out of her room,
passing down to luncheon, and in the
vague smile she swept over us I felt
a sharpening of curiosity.
Scrubbing my stained fingers, brush-
Ing out my hair, I tried to fit the
pleces together in this pattern. . . .
Suppose Letty were gullty—how about
that scene at the window? Well, that
could have had nothing to do with the
actual murder—it might have been
Deck, or Rancinl or Harriden for all
his denials, , , .
Suppose it had been Harriden. Sup-
pose he had gone on down to din-
ner, and Nora had been in bed, re-
sentful, hysterical, when Letty had
dropped in, on her way down. Nora
might have surmised that Letty had
The Prince Rancinl Walked By.
been stirring up Dan's jealousy, so
there was every reason for a scene
between them. A terrific scene, In
which Letty, in blind rage or In self
protection had struck out with the
first thing at hand. , , .
I had to imagine her picking up one
of Dan's handkerchiefs to wipe off the
blood , , . thrusting Nora into the
closet . . . waiting till she was sure
the rest were down at dinner, then
putting her out the window. Perhaps
the blood - stained handkerchief had
been a crumpled ball In Letty's brown
bag and after dinner she had gone up
to wash It out—that was when she had
riden’s door.
Perhaps the yellow diamonds had
been In Letty's brown bag, too. And
late that night-—or rather early in the
morning--she had torn the initials out
of the dried handkerchief and stolen
up to my room.
The pleces fitted together, I thought
excitedly. But there was nothing in
the world to sustain that wild sus
picion but my vivid imagination-—noth-
ing unless there should be blood upon
the pleces of broken comb in the In
I fairly raced down, then, to the
buffet luncheon, eager to pour this
out to Mitchell,
Mitchell was busily filling a plate so
I went over to him. His eyes looked
darker and more alert than ever: his
black hair, which began quite far back
on his forehead was standing up In an
excited crest. We sat down at a cor.
ner of the table—he hated eating In
his lap, he declared—and under my
breath I poured out my conjecturings.
Promptly he dashed my hopes. “In
cinerator been going for an hour. Don-
ahey let them start it up when he saw
there weren't any rags there—just
trash and garbage. Did you keep the
crescent?”
When I sald I hadn't, he advised
me to get it and test it for blood. But
he seemed a little detached. He even
sald, “I think you're barking up the
wrong tree.”
“It was your tree,” I told him in.
dignantly. “You thought she could
be a guilty soul.”
“Oh, a possibility—yes. But some
how" He left it in dublety,
hat and coat and, with Donahey's per
mission, he took me outdoors and
where cool wind and
their tonic effect.
some Internment camp,
After we had passed each other twice
to Join us.
w Without his wife's presence he ex-
panded Into galety:; he seemed to me
a big, light-hearted pleasure-loving
fellow, with a Continental's casual
cynicism about life and emotional re-
sponsiveness to beauty. He stopped
us to show us a particularly lovely
contrast of light and dark blue in the
sea, pointing with his stick, and he
told us of his swimming feats at Ca-
pri and his skiing records at St. Mo-
ritz and of his shooting triumphs in
Scotland,
For a time I was amused at this
distraction; no one could have im-
agined that we three people, prome-
nading up and down those stately ave-
nues, chatting of tournaments were
three members of an isolated house-
hold darkened by death and shadowed
by suspicion,
Mitchell sald very lttle — he had
small chance against the prince ex-
cept through Interruptions. But he
created a diversion by suddenly trip-
ping over a root and emitting a suc-
cession of fervent damns as he
hopped about distressfully. “It's this
confounded ankle—strained it a year
ago. May I borrow your stick? he
asked the prince,
I thought Rancinl passed it over
rather reluctantly. At the time I im-
agined he fancied It as part of his
own costuming, Mitchell leaned on it
as he walked along with us, refusing
to return to the house, “Be all right
in a second.”
Then Rancini began telling about
his palace in Rome that he was dolng
over and about his efforts to collect
the tapestries and furniture that be
had previously sold. 1 gathered that
he was doling all this with his wife's
money.
It was when we returned to the
house, and Mitchell was passing back
the cane, declaring himself complete-
ly recovered, that he made a casual-
sounding observation.
“This is one of those trick things,
isn't It, prince? Isn't there a spring
I feel here—7"
“But yes," sald Rancinl, without the
slightest hesitation. “You press this—
please take your hands away. I do
it—I1 know this thing. So—llke that.
And out comes this little toy”
What came out was the point of a
substantial looking knife, quite a stab-
bing tool. “Another press and a bayo-
net,” sald Rancini, laughing
“Quite a toy,” Mitchell commented,
eyeing It quizzieally.
“And not such a toy at that. In
Rome now, the streets are safe, but
in Paris, when one is late—in the
quarters of a little milliner, perhaps—"
“With a jealous lover around the
corner,” Monty Mitchell suggested,
“81, si!” Rancinl laughed, then un-
der his breath to me he murmured in
swift Italian, “When the heart Is empty
one must pass the hours.” and I smiled
up at his smile and asked to see the
knife again.
I looked hard at it. The sharp,
strong point seemed bright, unstained.
CHAPTER VIII
Mitchell sald very naturally, “A use
ful thing, that! A pity Nora Harriden
didn’t have one at hand when that fel
low set on her.”
Not a quiver of Rancinl's face, as
far as I could see. Perhaps the fact
that there wasn't a quiver, that his
voice was blandly expressionless meant
We were back In the house again,
to tension and uncertainty
strain of our own thoughts,
Mitchell went off to Donahey, com-
ing back just for a moment to report
that no trace of the pendant had been
found. When I went to Anson to get
the crescent, with a little made-up
speech about my Interest in imitation
stones, she told me that Miss Van
Alstyn had asked for it back, giving
her instead a star of brilllants,
immensely puzzled.
den, surreptitious change? I tried, on
the impulse, to find her but she wasn’t
in her room; my mald at last located
her IR the Keller sitting-room, with
Mrs. Crane and the two Kellers, play-
ing at bridge.
“I don’t think they liked my barging
in on them, and Miss Van Alstyn
looked frankly wondering when I
A young man went to Australia |
against his father's wishes. In one
letter home he wrote: “I have
bought a car; first feather in my |
cap.” In another he wrote: “Ihave
bought a farm; another feather in
my cap.”
This went on for some time and
always the son's letter finished with |
“another feather in my cap.”
Later the father received a letter
which ran: “Dear dad, I am broke;
please send passage home.”
The father replied: “Nothing do-
ing. Take the feathers from your
cap, stick them on your back and
fly home.”
Miss Willing-—Sarah, if Mr. Simple
calls while I'm out, hold him until I
return.
Sarah—Oh, miss, sure I wouldn't
like to do that.
Handy
In a Mexican prison a convicted
murderer was told by his wife that
he was doomed to die unless he
could get a pardon from the gov-
ernor of the state.
She asked: “How do you go about
getting a pardon from the gover-
nor?"
“That's easy,” he replied, and
raised his voice: ‘Hey, governor,
how about a pardon?"
“Sure,” was the reply.
It came from the next cell. —Troy
Times Record.
Modesty Preserved
Mrs. Blurb—They say that veils
for women are coming in style. I
wonder why that is?
Mr. Blurb—I understand the wom-
en are ashamed to show their faces
when they go out wearing those
clothes that they wear now.—Stray
Stories Magazine.
Melancholy Punster
“We have squandered money with.
out thought of a proper return,”
said the student of economics.
“Yes,” replied Mr. Dustin Stax.
“1 fear we have proved one of those
countries in which a profit is with.
out honor."
Waits for the Empty Space
I was warning my little neighbor
about being careful crossing streets,
“Oh, don’t worry,” the child as |
sured me. “I always wait for the
empty space to come by."'—Royal
Arcanum.
Seemed to Fir
Policeman (to motorist) — Why
didn’t you slow down? Didn't you
see the notice: Slow Down Here?
Motorist—Yes but I thought it was |
describing your village.—Stray Sto
ries Magazine. i
IN THE PICTURE
“Strange, Ann should invite that |
horrid grass widow to her wedding; |
she has such a disagreeable past.” |
“Yes, my dear, but she's rich |
enough to furnish a very agreeable
present.”
More Convenient
Woman-—No, I tell you I object to
giving money at the door!
Tramp-—-Well, ma'am, perhaps
I'm not particular. — Pearson's
Weekly.
Couldn't Fool Him
Dentist, open widel
not going to hurt you.
New Patient—Cut out the profes
sional guff, old man. I'm a dentist
myself, ~Stray Stories Magazine.
The Main Requisite
“Do you have to have talent to
I'm
ham.”
Turning Point
Squire to Villager—So you're
Tom—Well, zur, I tuk a fancy
When I heerd she was
for seven
CONDESCENDING COOK
AR
Mrs. Hatch: Did the cook
Mrs. Smith: she didn't
the trouble to leave. She
simply notified us by telephone
that she was going to stay away.
Worth a Battle
Magistrate—For two years you
two men fished together peace-
ably, and yet you had to fight
over this fish.
Prisoner—You see, sir, it was
the first one we ever caught!
No;
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Time Lost
We waste not time in waiting,
nor in sleeping, nor certainly in
praying, nor in being merry, but
only in indecision.
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