CHAPTER VIII—Continued anf. 1 decided to walt for the results of Anson's search, and I was so sleepy, after the wakeful night and the walk n the open alr that I curled up in my rose cushioned chalr for ten minutes and slept for forty. I woke to find farriden in my room, sitting stolidly there confronting me with an alr of grim scrutiny, I sat up quickly, pulling down my rumpled gray frock and brushing my hair out of my eyes, staring at him with something very much like fright. Behind him the door was closed. “You needn't try to run,” he told me, and I flung back, “Why should I run? What do you want, Mr, Harriden?” “lI want to know what you know about all this,” he growled at me, “You're in with Deck. I want to know what all that row was about—that row with Elkins—" His voice fumbled so at the words that I felt a pang of pity for him in spite of all my other feeling. “I never saw Alan Deck until I came here,” I sald and spoke as quietly and gently as I could. “I don't know any- thing about his affairs.” “That's your story, and you can stick to it before the others. But I want the facts, and I'm prepared to pay for them. And I'll let you off—I'll let you off whatever trouble those stones have got you In for, If you'll tell me every- thing you know.” “I know nothing.” “You know why you went up to my wife's room last night. You had some reason—even If you saw her slapped you wouldn't go in like that—" His eyes, grimly skeptical, looked me through and through. “You can't pull any wool over my eyes. You were meeting Deck before dinper. I want to know what he and —what he was threatening my wife about. He wanted money from her— wasn't that it? If you never met him before, as you say, he's Interested enough in you now to tell you. Your own safety and a good substantial sum of money ought to make you see the fight. “I'M give you five thousand—five thousand for a few words. Only no faking. I want the truth.” “You are utterly mistaken In me, Mr. Harriden,” I sald steadily. “I couldn't sell information if I had it. «+ . I know nothing at all of Alan Deck and his secrets.” Some one knocked. I called, "Come in,” and the door opened. There stood Alan Deck. At sight of Harriden he stiffened, then, with assumed naturalness to me, *“About those pictures—" Harriden got to his feet; his eyes flickered from Deck back to me with a malevolent sort of satisfaction. “Well—is it yes? he said harshly, his look holding mine, “It's ne, Mr. Harriden.” Without another word to me, with- out a glance toward Deck, he marched past him, out the door. I burst out, “Oh, why did you come?” to Deck. His gaze that had followed Harriden to the door flashed back to me. “What was Dan doing here?” “Trying to buy me,” I said. “Offer ‘ag me five thousand dollars to find out His Eyes Looked Me Through and Through. what you and his wife quarreled about.” “Want me to toss you a yarn to win the five?” sald Alan Deck with a sud den smile, 1 was sorry for him, for the torment. ed look that underlay the pride and challenge of his high-held head. Quick- ly I began to talk about Raneini and the discovery of his sword cane. I thought his Interest would seize on that, but he shrugged it away. “Well, what of it? What do you think you can prove?” At the unresponsiveness of his face I flung oct, “But don't you want to find out who did it before the Inquest to- morrow 7” “Let the dicks find out” he sald. “They can’t hold me now on a few words when I was lit. . , , I'm not worrying about tomorrow, *I want to get out of this damn’ house i” he broke out, “I want to get back to New York—back to my office, back to sanity and sense—I never want to see a soul here again! Except you =1 want to take you out to dinner and to a theater, and 1 want you to go dancing with me in that blue satin Mary Hastings Bradley Copyright by D. Appleton Century Ce, Ing, WNU Service gown—I want to hold you in my arms, to soft music, you understand—" And then he dropped into a chalr— the deep cushioned chair beside the lit- tle white one I was sitting In—and sald coaxingly, “Talk to me, Leila. Tell me about your picture puzzles and the fakes and the millionaires you rescue. The pre-depression milllonalres. Tell me all the stories of your young art life.” Nothing that we sald mattered; it was all about paintings and artists and people and plays. The telephone broke In on it. Monty Mitchell's voice told me to come down at once, We both went down, I expecting heaven-knows-what of revelation but finding only that Mitchell wanted my report on the hair ornament. I murmured that he had sald I was barking up the wrong tree, but I scur- ried back upstairs, and this time I got the crescent with no delay for Miss Van Alstyn was In her room and pro- duced the gewgaw from her jewel box. “Is there something special about it? she murmured, and I sald lamely enough that I wanted to study the Stones. I might as well have studied Plymouth Rock, for there was no blood to be found on them. If there ever had been any, she'd had all the time in the world to wash it off. ... I gave It back to her and went downstairs again, finding Mitchell and Deck deep In talk. “I found it. Nothing," 1 reported shortly to Mitchell, He merely nodded, then sald ear- nestly, “I am telling Deck this *I don't remember’ stuff won't wash with a cor- oner's jury.” Deck's eyes, brilliant and haggard, played with him. “What do you sug- gest I say?” Monte was ready. As | dropped down on the end of the couch beside him, he offered, low-toned, “Suppose Nora was Jealous of Dan and Letty and threat. ened to raise the roof about them, and You warned her not to. What?" “Got a cigarette? gald Deck. “Mine are all gone.” He put the case he had taken out back in his pocket rather slowly, Casually he mentioned, “What about the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? The lawyer did not bat an eyelash. “Isn't that the truth—now that your head has cleared? “Why drag In Letty? “Why not? You'll have to explain these threats, and that does it—with no discredit to yourself.” Deck grinned. “You're a swell law- yer, Monty." “And you need one” Deck rose with a vague word or two, Silently we sat there and watched his tall figure sauntering away. Monty Mitchell's lips were creased In a taut line; he knew, and I knew, with heart- catching anxiety, that whatever Deck had dome or not done, whatever had been between him and that dead wom. an, whatever danger menaced him now, he was going on In his own high-hand. ed way, to play his lone, deflant game. And I was terribly afraid for him. CHAPTER IX Nothing happened that night, 1 gath. ered In a stout, dignified gray cat that I found promenading the hall and fed it morsels from my squab and tried to pretend that I was not lonely. It seemed a thousand years since IT had first entered that room, since I had looked down to those two dark silhon- ettes In that front window, I tried again te reconstruct those silhouettes, hoping that some trick of memory would bring to life a forgotten detall, but IT was so tired that their shapes wavered fantastically before me, Nothing was golng to interest that Jury, I thought, except the finding of those diamonds inside my dress and the report of Deck's violent threats to Nora Harriden. And his absence from the table, I needed all the rest I could get to face that tomorrow, se I took a hot bath and went to bed, At first I slept, then as my weariness wore off, my worrying thoughts kept coming to the surface, rousing me, and at last, in the early morning dark I lay wide awake, my mind racing like an engine. I thought of the questions they were likely to ask me and a sud- den qualms assailed me. I had taken it absolutely for granted that I would tell the same story which I bad told Donabey about my reasons for going up to Mrs. Harriden's room, and that Deck would tell his same story, but NOW This was different, this testimony before a coroner and a Jury. This was under oath, Suppose Deck wanted me to tell “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth”—to show that since he had asked me to go up he belleved that Nora Harriden was still alive? I had to find out, I thought, stricken with belated panic, before I went into that jury room. I would phone him for an interview the very moment it was light enough to make my call possible, Then my mind turned to that hand- kerchief with the rust marks, Some time on Friday night that handkerchief had been drying on a radiator, Now a thought came to me. I didn't know all that Donahey had asked, but 1 knew that in front of me no one had asked If such a handkerchief had been seen, I made up my mind to see every mald on that floor in the morning, It was Anson my thoughts circled SSED about, I remembered that Anson had not volunteered anything about the open window, though its being open must have seemed a trifle unusual. She had not volunteered anything. She had given me a distinct impression of diffident reticence, Elkins, too, had not come forward with his statements until he had been questioned, and then he had had a bad struggle between his duty to his employers and his conscience and love of importance. I began to think It quite possible that some one had seen something that only direct questioning would bring out. Day was a desperate laggard. Very slowly the pale oblongs of my window lightened. Seven o'clock. Could I telephone then? No, that was far too early—I forced myself to walt till seven-thirty. Then there was no answer. The in- strument was dead. I decided to dress and go downstairs, Dressing took time. I combed my fluff of halr Into decorum and put on a sub- dued lipstick, Then, just as I was ready to leave, came a knock at my door and the breakfast tray. I asked my mald what rooms she looked after. “Why yours, miss, and the next when ft is occupied.” “Then you aren't very busy now? I suggested, “I assist with the linen. Ing, I mean,” she explained. Mending and the third-floor rooms— and mine was the only one occupied on the third floor. No use golng into the questions about the handkerchief, now, though I decided to ask Mitchell to see that the question was asked at the In- quest of every one, I hurried through my breakfast to get downstairs. I took the staircase to the left. One flight down I saw Anson standing In talk with the maid who did my room, and I quickened my steps toward her. Her arms were piled with fresh towels and the feminine in me eould not resist paying attention to those towels, they were so lovely. Anson's pretty face was troubled as she turned it to me. I sald, “Oh, An- son, there's something I want to ask you," and the other mald slipped away. Anson sald, “Just a minute please. I'll be right out,” and turned into the door of Prince Rancinl, with a quick, pre- liminary knock. I didn’t want to stand there walting 80 I walked on down the hall, past the closed door where Nora Harriden was lying, then turned and sauntered slow- ly along. Ahead of me | saw Anson come hur- riedly out of Rancinl's door her hands to her disordered halr, and behind her the prince made a Jack-In-the-Box ap- pearance, popping back as he canght sight of me but not before I had glimpsed his flashing, amused smile. Anson was breathing quickly. “Those foreigners!” she threw out, fucking in the loosened edges of her starched white frill. “He can keep his hands off I" she added, resentment stirring her out of ner reticence. “Why don't you complain to the princess?” I suggested wickedly, That startled Anson more than Ran- ciol had done. She looked at me out of shocked eyes. “Oh, the mald is al- ways wrong” she sald with cynleal succinctness, “If you'll excuse me, miss, I'll be golng back for my towels” and she cast a look, troubled for all her recovered composure, at the closed door of the room. “Just a moment, Anson. I was walt ing to see you. 1 want to ask you something.” She kept her face away from me, “T'l be telling all I know at the in quest this morning.” “I know, but I want to speak to you first. You know you sald to the In. spector that you could not say that Mr. Deck had been in Mrs, Harriden's room—when you saw him in the hall— you remember you sald that, don't you?” “I remember,” she sald almost re. Inctantly. “I didn't like to Say any- thing else and make the gentleman trouble—I didn't know what words he had been using to the poor lady then.” Her volce changed to such sternness that I sald quickly, “But perhaps El kins didn't understand" “He's not one to misunderstand.” she told me firmly. “I'm promised to El. kins, so I might say I know him. He didn’t like to say what he had to say, but it was his duty, A man making such threats All sympathy for Deck was gone from ber now. I went on anxiously, “And there's another thing. Did you happen to see a handkerchief drying on a radiator In any of the rooms last night?” I wished I could know what that change In her face meant. Had I hit on something-—or was she merely startled at the Idea? Her answer seemed slow In coming and when it did it was oblique. “Will they ask me that, miss?” “Yes, they will ask you that. But If I could know first" “I'll tell everything they ask me downstairs,” she sald at last. “It's toy duty, I know, though I'm sorry enough =-any one might bave washed out a handkerchief" The mend- But she moved away determinedly, and I went on upstairs to my room where I wrote a note to Mitchell, ask- a8 soon as possible, mald and asked her to deliver them, each moment would bring Deck. He didn't come, fying. He might be being kept incom- municado. . 80 worried ; I must seem natural and at ease before that Jury. I was in a tense state of nerves when they finally came for me. My heart was beating sickeningly when I entered that dining-room, and for a moment the faces turned to me seemed like blurs in a fog. Then I steadied, and took In the groups, I saw a knot of people writing away busily on lit tle pads, newspaper people, I supposed, and I saw Mitchell and Donahey. The six men of the Jury were lined along the dazzling black table and the cor- oner, a tall, thin man with a drooping mustache, was at the end, and a court reporter, writing away, sat beside the vacant chair for the witness, across from the jury, “Do you solemnly swear that the testimony that you shall give in the *You Lie So Convincingly.” case now on hearing shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God? I swore it. [I told myself to put out of mind any Idea of & change of testi. mony, to hold fast to everything I had already said. 1 sat down In the wit. ness chair, as I was told, and faced the jury, They were tradespeople from the small, nearby town. There Is no need in going over my testimony. They asked me ev erything, bit by bit, and I told them all I had told before. About the scene at the window. About meeting Alan Deck in the picture gallery. About being sum. moned down to dinner. They tried to get me to name the time that Deck had been absent from the table but I sald I couldn't say. When it came to my going up to Mrs. Harriden's room I could feel the attention tightening about me. 1 tried to shut out of my mind every fefir of Deck’s change of testimony: 1 repeated word for word what I had told Don- ahey. The coroner put a question I hadn't foreseen, “Have you anything in your posses. slon, among your chemicals, that would take blood stains out of a handker- chief" “Why yes,” I sald honestly. peroxide often does IL" My voice was breathless sounding. I was grateful when they went on to *Just night, and why I had not reported It “Why you know how It is about nolses in the dark,” I explained. “The only sounds I could be sure I'd heard were those footsteps out In the hall, and I thought those belongéd to a guard—the inspector had sald the place wonld be guarded.” ness Is excused.” room. I looked about uncertainly and Mitchell came up to me. “You're one of the best witnesses 1 ever saw. . .. You lie so convincingly,” he sald, from heart. “Why-—did Deck I ones, “No, he didn't reveal anything,” he told me, and my relief was so poignant it must have looked out all over me, He added, “But I'd give a plugged nickel to know what he really said to you that night—about taking no steps.” Then he told me kindly. *I was de. celving you, my dear, when I sald that you lied well, To the untutored eye you may appear carefree, to one w knows you-— But you made a ii § § HEH OLE eEsh! gid Hh | STAR DUST Movie « Radio *%% By VIRGINIA VALE kk% 2262020 26 26 2 3 00 2 0 0 0 0 Xe eye on young Larry Blake, who retations of Charles Lau rhton, f g | son and Clark Gable at the Rain- bow Room of Rockefeller Center. First thing you know he'll be on the air and in the movies: though he is in his early twenties now, he has made a good start, He went to Brooklyn college, and has appeared in vaudeville and at smart hotels and night clubs here and there about the country; the Congress and the Stevens hotels in Chicago featured him not long ago. Landing in the Rainbow Room crowns him with success; talent scouts make it one of their first stops in New York, and no visitor wants to leave town till he's been there, ¥ — + — Four members of the Abbey Players of Dublin, one of the most famous theatrical organizations in the world, arrived in the United States recently to appear in RKO's screen version of “The Plough and the Stars,” which they've often per- formed on the stage. One of them, Barry Fitzgerald, was thrilled to death—because he'd met James Cagney. Barbara Stanwyck will be starred in this new Irish picture, which is being made because all of us liked “The Informer" so well. And it will be made by the pro- ducers, director and scenarist who were responsible for “The Inform- er,” so it's going to be good. lf Seems there's a rumor around that Major Bowes isn’t so popu- lar as he once was: people have heard that performers on his pro- grams don't get paid much, but that he gets plenty. And some of the people who go to the broad- casts feel that he isn't dignified enough. All that may or may not be true ~but a high-powered publicity or- ganization has been engaged to change public opinion regarding the genial Major; his new sponsors feel that the public must go on liking him, or else! —_— Want to know the low-down on how to play bad man on the screen? Noah Beery, brother of Wallace, can give it to you. He's now playing a hired killer in “Strangers on a Honeymoon,” at the Gaumont British studios, along with Constance Cummings and Hugh Sinclair—he's been appear- ing as various kinds of murderers for years and years. He says that, if a criminal is to seem to be a real man, he must show a streak of human kind- ness—"'A screen killer can mow a guy down with a shot-gun, but he's got to stoop and pat a kid on the head on the way out” —otherwise he's a madman, not a human be- ing. Barbara Stanwyck wll sn Columbia Broadcasting System is going to give a lot of young men a chance this summer. With reg- ular announcers going om vaca- tions, others who have been audi- ing here and there on the network will be brought in and given a — She broke while ago, recall. It healing so she to New lavan's, jit a | you'll wasn't | properly, | hied her | York for special treatments. Now | she's back again in Hollywood and hopes to go to work soon. But friends have Suntioncd gr Po to be careful rgaret that arm. Only the gambar other day she was reported as whizzing to the west side tennis matches on a motor. cycle with Willie Wyler. EASIER The tramp tapped on the back door and asked for something to eat. The housewife replied that she would give him food if he would earn the meal by clearing out the gutter. The tramp agreed, and when he had eaten his way through several sandwiches she came out with a reliable-looking hoe. “You needn’t have gone to that trouble, madam,” said the tramp. “I never use a hoe in clearing out a gutter.” ’ “Never use a hoe,” said the woman. ‘What do you use then— a shovel?” “No, madam.” replied the tramp, starting for the gate. “My method is to pray for rain.” —Tit Bits Magazine. THE HIGH COST First Neighbor—Didja ever stop t’ figger out what it cost t’ raise a cat or dog, Bill? Second Neighbor—No: but there's a neighbor's cat ‘round here what's cost me 'bout a bushel of brick-a brac, two alarm clocks and a shoe jes in th’ past month. All Right With Him The irate passenger who had stumbled over another passenger's club bag which stuck out into the aisle, opened the coach window and flung the offending piece of bag- gage on to the right-of-way. Then he snorted: “That's the place for things like that,” he declared. “All right with me, Mister,” grinned the passenger who was ad- dressed. “That wasn't my bag.” A Few Ideas He—See that man over there? He's a bombastic mut., a wind- jammer nonentity, a false alarm, a hot air shrimp, a— Woman-—-Would you mind writ- ing that down for me? He—Why? Woman—He's my husband, and I want to use it on him sometime. Quite! “Why has your husband been summoned?” “I'm not quite sure, but [ think a policeman held up his hand and Jack put his foot on the exaspera- tor!"'-Tit-Bits Magazine, Hurrumph! “My education cost pounds.” “Yes, one doesn’t get much for motey nowadays.” -— Auscalian Woman's Mirror. me 1,000 garden “It's troubled by two kinds of your “What are they?” ““The pests that eat the plants and my garden is getting along.” Silly ot fim Edith-Say, mamma, I want to ask you a question. Mamma-What is it now, Edith? Edith—When the first man start- ed to write the word “psalm” with a “p,” why didn't he scratch it out and start over again?—Ex- change. “Give me a sentence with the weed mens’ “When people go to camp they sleep intense” Pearson's Weekly. Sentimentality “You seem sad,” said the air plane pilot. “Not exactly sad,” answered Miss Cayenne. *‘Only sentimental. Every time | get this far from a! begin to feel terribly home
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers