CHAPTER XI—Continued w—— en Ten minutes later I was Ir my room, feeling as stunned and bewildered as if I had just run, racing, full tit against a wall. The thing that I had found out in those last ten minutes, the thing that my flash of insplration bad led me to, simply did not fit In. Sheer accident must have intervened. Another mald. . . . I felt as if I were sinking in one of those morasses where everything you lay hold on slips out from under your clutching fingers, The death of Anson had so filled my mind that I had been forgetting the menace of all that had gone be- fore, but now It repossessed me very completely. I was not so frightened for myself as I ought to have been; I knew my own Innocence so well that [ was nalvely sure I could make It clear, but my forebodings deepened when I thought of Deck, high-strung, deflant, confronting Donahey’s hard, slow-focusing distrust, and Harrlden's outspoken hate. I wondered if they had decided to arrest him, The finding of that dia- mond must have seemed to them con- clusive. They might have arrested him at once, I thought, but for the finding of Anson's body. That death had be- wildered and distracted them for a time, but now they must be all the keener for some decisive action. I could see Deck held up before the public as an unscrupulous spendthrift making love to a rich woman, trying * trade on her affections, drunkenly eatening her when she refused some m, then murdering her for the pos- session of her diamonds. He would be represented as having tried to hide the chain with me but as having retained possession of the big diamond that might, more easily, escape a search. It all fitted together. Now that the diamond was found Harriden must be surer than ever that his suspicions had been right. . . . He would make every- body else sure, I was glad I had spoken to Donahey about Rancinl and Anson. Perhaps I bad roused enough suspicion in Don- ahey’s mind to delay his action against Deck. If only my clue had not failed me—if only I had found what I ex- pected to find. ,. Well, I hadn't. Al right then, I thought determinedly, I'd see what sort of case I could build up, anyway. Nora Harriden had been quarreling with a man In her room about seven- thirty. Rancinl might have been the man for all his wife's testimony that he had been In his own room. . . . Later, after Harriden had gone down, he had stepped Into Nora's room again. Nora had been stabbed. Rancini had a cane, with a stabbing knife concealed in one end. He had wiped It off with « handkerchlef— Not his own. His own did not match that blood-stained one. He had picked up one of Dan's to wipe off the blood. He had locked Nora In the closet, fled back to his room, washed oui ihe hand- kerchief and spread it on the radiator to dry. Then, seized with the thought of making the murder appear a sul- cide, he had slipped back again, thrust her out the window, after stuffing the diamonds In his pocket, and hurried down to dinner, During the search for Mrs, Harriden, Anson had happened to notice the dry- ing handkerchief. . Perhaps the prince had noticed it, later, and stuffed it in his pocket wtih the diimonds, That night, he had torn out the initials and stolen up with the diamonds to my room. He had chosen me, I thought, be. cause if he were discovered there his fertile imagination would conceive the idea of saying that it was a rendez. vous. If I, alone, discovered him, he would try to make love to me. . cs Bb would be just what he would think of As for the big diamond, he had hidden that, but after Anson's death and my suspicion insisted that he had killed her—he had realized the danger he was In, with that body in his closet, and so he had hurried to get rid of the pendant and at the same time to throw more of the suspicion upon Deck. Some things I could not explain to myself. Why had Letty Van Alstyn fainted at Harriden’s dreadful words? If she were guilty, then I could credit her with a moment's faltering weak- ness as she saw the fate she was bringing upon an innocent man, but if she were not guilty, if she had no rea- Son to know Deck Innocent I could hardly believe, after Mitch- ell's words about her, that she would faint out of sheer compassion, And what about that crescent? Why had she wanted it back from Anson? And how had Anson come to have It again In her hand? But these did not seem to me the es. sential questions. The thing was to establish my suspicions of Raneint, A knock came on my door. One of the butlers, Graff, it was, stood there with a vote on the house note-paper, I came back Into my room, pressed on the lights and tore open the stify paper. Scrawled across the sheet was « single line, written In Itallan! “Please be In the picture gallery in ten minutes” . Some of those minutes brightening up that scared looking girl 1 saw In the glass. “You're not afraid,” I told her. “He isn't going to choke you to death.” Before 1 left the room | wrote in English, below that scrawl on the let. ter, “1 have gone to the gallery to meet Rancinl,” and signed my name with the time. Them I went to the picture gallery ' I spent in ow | Mary Hastings Bradley Copyright by D. Appleton« Century Co. Ina, WNU Service _—_—_— CHAPTER XII Darkness and emptiness greeted me: the curtalns hung closed against the light, thelr heavy folds forming black oblongs along the shadowy reaches of the walls. The darkness played on my nerves, and I reached hastily for the electric switch, The opening of a door at the far end of the gallery made me straighten and whirl about and started my heart to hammering. I told myself to be wise and wary. .., I told myself that this was my chance to learn something. It was not Rancint who came In that door. It was Alan Deck. He was the apparition of the first night I had seen him there, his handsome face marked with tormenting bitterness, Impulsively I started towards him; we met in the middle of that vast room. He murmured, a wry smile on his lips, “I was afrald you might not come." I stammered my surprise. you—did you send that note?" “Who else?” “But-—In Italian?" “Did you think it was Rancinl? he grinned. “I wrote In Italian because I knew you knew it, and I didn't want i —— “Ob, did S80 We Began to Walk Up and Down That Huge Gallery, the servants to read it, . , . However, that police fellow tagged me. He's Just outside.” I said In a low tone, “Well, he knows we are here together. That can't be helped. . . , But he can’t hear what we say If we stay away from that door.” So we began to walk up and down that huge gallery. “I expect It isn't very helpful for you to be seen with me—but I had to see you somehow.” “They've linked us so In suspicion that it would be only natural for us to talk things over,” I sald stoutly, “Not that the suspicion can do you any real harm,” he declared. “They can't do anything to you simply be- cause the diamonds were found pinned in your dress. They'll have to believe your story. The publicity may be deuce. edly annoying for you, but that's all” I hoped he was right. “They may end by proving that 1 pinned them there!” His laugh was ragged. He groaned out, “It's this cir. cumstantial stuff that gets me! First my threats, then Anson seeing me out. side Nora's door—coming out of it, as a matter of fact, but she can't tell that now-then the diamond hidden in my cigarette case, and now Anson's being choked off, In an empty room, while I was convenlently at hand, sround the corner. God, I almost believe In my gullt, myself | “But who did 1t?" I demanded des- perately, “How do I know? 1 don't give a damn who killed either of them,” he sald, his volce roughening, “just so Harriden stops riding me. . . , He came downstairs again when I was with Donahey, . , , Those letters have driven him erazy.” “Letters? “My letters,” he sald with Indescrib- able bitterness, “The fool love letters that I wrote-—oh, months and months ago. The letters that she threatened to show him." I was stupid with surprise, “To show him? Why-—what for" “She wanted to play hell with me! That was what for.” He remembered to lower his voice to a hard undertone. “To make me marry her. To make Dan divorce her, 1 was through, but she wasn't going to let me off.” Well, I knew then. I hag always known, but I bad been wilfully trying to hold truth away from me, to | a hopeless, romantic infatuation, , . , But It was a curious sort of shock that he had been “through.” In a more guarded volce he went on, “She'd made a scene that afternoon that was what Elkins overheard, Swore she'd get a divorce and wake me marry her. Sald Dan would divorce her like a shot If he found out, and she was going to tell him. 1 told her I'd give her the lie, and she sald she'd show my letters.” That was the first time I knew she hado’t burned them, as she bad sald, “She showed them to him all right,” Deck muttered. “He was quoting from thew downstairs when he went crazy —-when they found the diamond. There were phrases that he'd gotten from them. About having compassion on my lovesick soul—about drowning myself in her eyes!” “They were beautiful eyes,” I sald stonily, Suddenly I remembered something. 1 remembered those slow, blunt fingers of Harriden's moving about in his wife's dressing case, searching the key to the jewel case. I remembered thelr pause, thelr feeling over and over the silk lining, and the queer, indefinable look that had passed over the man's face, , . . I had thought him recollect Ing some association. Quickly I spoke. “I don't believe she showed them. I believe that he found them where she kept them hidden—un- der the lining in her dressing case” | told him, In a carefully lowered volce, all the details, He nodded. “That might be. More likely than for her to show them. Tell- ing him about me would be enough. He'd see red. Anyway It's the same thing now. He's read them. Probably been reading them all these nights.” I felt sorrler for Harriden than 1 had ever felt for any person in my life, “He loved her—terribly,” I sald. “Oh, he was a fool about her. 1 was a fool, too, In my time” he ac. knowledged grimly. “The damnedest fool alive, I always am about beauty. You know that thing of Cecil John's— ‘Oh, I am Beauty's fool? 1 thought her Aphrodite herself, all love and loveliness.” Harshly he pronounced, “And she was a cheat and a wanton—and a dom. ineering devil. What's worrying me is that one of those letters, the very last, was written In a rage. I'd been breaking away and she'd started threat. ening—she might have known she couldn't make me come to heel! I told her I'd see her In hell before I married her. I wrote her that. That would supply the motive, wouldn't it? All that the case lacks now. Dolng away with her before she made the scandal” I couldn't speak for a moment was—definite," I sald then, a shakily. After a minute he brought out: “She might not have kept it. Her pride might have been too great. And Dan's pride may keep him from using It He'd hate the world to know 1 chucked his wife ™ “1 like him for that™ Something In my tone must have stung him, for he said quickly, “Don't think any worse of me than you have to. I saw him first as a Jealous brute and she as a lovely martyr. I thought we were entitled to our love. ,. , | didn't know her.” He went on talking in his tense un- dertone, the pent-up emotion seething out In him. “I was mad with worry that first night I met you here. I'd come up to try and cool off —to plan 8 way out... was wondering how to get hold of those letters . « » Won- dering If I could play a game with her . Then I saw you and I thought, ‘Damn It, there's a girl that's regl-—a girl I want to know,” and I knew itl made a move to you that Nora would rip the roof off. I felt tied band and foot. That made me hotter than ever” “But you asked me to go up to herr “1 know. There was something about you—" He broke off and added, “It would have been all right—coming with that message. And I was des- perate.” He broke out now, “If Dan thought that letter would send me to the elec. tric chair, he'd sink his pride and use it. He'd show me up, first as the se ducer of his wife, then as the aban- doner. If that last letter got to a jury I wouldn't have a Chinaman's chance.” He turned on me his bitter, desper. ate eyes. “I must get those letters That's my only way. . . . He can't be carrying them about with him, they're too bulky. They must be somewhere in the room.” 1 suggested that they were probably still in the hiding place in the case. “That's right, . , . Look here—can you think of any way of getting hold of them for me?” He stopped short, gripping hold.of my arm. “The funeral is tomorrow—he'll leave In the morn. ing and take all the stuff with him. My only chance is now. . . . Do you think you could work on your maid?" “To do what? To steal them?” “I'd pay anything I could.” I knew it was folly to imagine brib- ing that sensible mald of mine, , . . But there must be some way. I could see that his very life might depend upon getting hold of them. I sald again that the thing to do was to find out who really had done It, then the letter wouldn't matter. At the look In my face he flung out, not unreasonably, “How can 1 find out ~-overnight?™ And then, “I don't give “It little if x fl g i fe £1 : 3 i : 2 play hell with me, , ,. thoroughly with the living man. I hoped he had made some discoveries that would bolster my suspicions against Rancinl. Down the stairs 1 started, pausing, on the second floor, to glance along the main hall to that riden lay. Tomorrow that door would open and her body would be carried to its last resting place. Harriden had decided against having it moved to thelr home. He wanted no ceremony ers. Finls for Nora Harriden. would be an Inquest for her tomorrow, and afterwards a simple funeral serv. ice In some undertakers chapel, prob- ably. Fewer flowers on her grave fewer headlines in the press. Elkins for chief mourner. I went on downstairs. The house there was a blaze of lights. In a few minutes Monty Mitchell came down, “I wanted to see you," 1 confessed. “I've been hoping that you'd found out something.” He put his hand through my arm, leading me over to the deep divan where we had first talked it all over. “Give me a little time, my dear.” he was saying. Then, “You know I've got an idea—a very luminous idea” I walted, eagerly, “But not a word till I have put a foundation under ih After a moment I sald to him, “I've Just been seeing Deck. We've been talking up In the gallery together.” He raised his head and blazed out, “You pair of fools!” “Deck needed some one to talk to,” I retorted, defensively, “Yes, and he needed some one yes- terday afternoon. _ , . Hasn't the man got enough on his mind without having to have you entertain him? “Yes, but tonight It was about the case—it was because he had so much on his mind. He wanted to talk it over with me" I hesitated, then 1 thought there could be no harm in telling Monty Mitchell about Deck's letters as long as I did not mention the one which gave any motive for murder. Deck had not wanted Monty to know about that, but Monty had already shown his knowledge of thelr love affair, So 1 told him. “He's afrald—he's sure, really—that Harriden has found some of his old letters to Mrs. Har. riden—letters written some time ago, He says that Harriden was quoting from them yesterday—and again to- Letty Just Likes a Little Petting When She's Low Spirited, day. He thinks that jealousy will make with the murder.” sent for the district attorney already.” And then Mitchell gave his sudden, ironic chuckle. “Do right—and fear no man. Don't write—and fear no woman.” 1 was chilling at the thought of that district attorney. “Do you think he'll be indicted?” “As sure as God made lovely wom- en—and jealous husbands” “Then do something!” 1 besought, “If you've any ldea—if you can prove more than I can about Rancinl” At his unresponsiveness | flung out heat. ———————————— HERI TRADING JOBS ARAARAA AAA ARRAN STAR DUST Movie + Radio 20220 2 0 2 HE han death of Thomas Meig- may not mean very the younger movie-goers, The navigator and the chief en- | ginger had an argument as to who | was the most indispensable in op { erating the ship; whereupon the ! navigator agreed to take a try | at the engineer officer's job and | the engineer officer agreed to take | the bridge. After about half an hour's run- | ning, the ship stopped and the nav- igator crawled out of the engine- room hatch. His clothing was wet from perspiration, and his fea- | tures were covered with grease and grime, “It's no use,” said the naviga- tor. “lI can’t seem to make the darned thing go again.” “Certainly not,” said the chief engineer. “We're aground.” —The Shipmate. KNOWS HIS TASTES Kid—Do you exchange goods that ain't wanted? Druggist—Certainly. We uke to please our customers. Kid—Well, I've got fifteen cents’ worth of castor oil we bought here. I want to exchange it for a choco- late sundae. Playing in Luck Muriel—And you're sure you've read through all the list of sweep- winners? Milicent—Every blessed one. Muriel-—-And you mean to say we haven't even got a tiny conso- lation prize? Milicent—Not even a teeny share in one. Muriel—I say, isn't it lucky 1 didn't but any tickets! —Stray Sto- ries Magazine. Secured Good Evidence The magistrate fixed the police- man with an inquiring eve. “And what caused you to think the prisoner was under the influ- ence of drink?” he asked. “Well, Your Honor, I found him in Trafalgar square throwing his walking-stick into a fountain and urging the lions on Nelson's Column to go in and fetch it." —Stray Sto- ries Magazine. Absent-Minded Physician's Wife-—Now, my dear, you must positively forget shop if you are going into society with me. Her Hubby—What have I done? Physician's Wife—Why, you feel the pulse of every one who extends a hand. TO GET EVEN ra “Why is your father so get city boarders?” “Well, yo' see, one of ‘em sold | such danger!” said Monty Mitchell equably. He pat- ted my hand. “Don’t look 80 stars! sd. La then, for he told me that a little food and drink wouldn't do me any harm. “They sent up trays, but there must be something lying about the dining-room. Let's look.” ‘ At the door he swung me lightly about again. But not before I bad seen Deck within the room, having a drink with Letty Van Alstyn, an arm about her shoulders. “He doesn’t look * sald Mitchell cheerfully. “What say we leave them and come back to our couch? ... Letty Just likes a little pet: ting when she's low spirited.” “I thought she was all for Har riden? 1 murmured as detachedly as 1 could. Within | was resentfuily won. dering If Deck was telling Letty that he was putting himself In her hands "ao BE coNTINUED. ter.” Not Tactful , “Don’t you think my new dress “0, lovely! 1 think that dress- At the Bank Timid Soul—1 would like to cash Chashier — What denomination, madam? Timid Soul-—Oh, I belong to the Corner Church. Ostentation of Wealth “Ostentation of wealth is some which taste Sing ¥ good always Who's Lifetime? “But you guaranteed that this watch would last healthy the you bought poy healthy, he day member him as one of the big stars of the days of silent pictures. Like many stage stars, he was not pictures. But he did ‘““The Miracle Man” Oddly Lon Chaney made his did Betty Compson, who was find. ing it none too easy to climb the ladder of fame. Nobody suspected that ‘“The Mir acle Man" would be such an epoch. making picture as it was. But #f established its three leading actors as stars almost overnight. - a And speaking of star-making pie tures, see what's happened to thse people who ap- peared in “The Private Life of Henry the Eighth” none of whom were well known in this country till it was released—and the rest of the world had acclaimed only Charles Laughton, of the cast. But since then Laughton, Robert Donat, Merle Ober- on, Wendy Barrie and Binnie Barnes have been wel- comed by Hollywood. All have been extremely successful in American pictures. Charles Laughton ssf cnems Since her marriage Jean Parker has been luckier than many Hoelly- wood brides; she has had assign- ments that provided a pleasant honeymoon. First they went to Texas, on location with the com- pany that was making “The Texas Ranger’; now they're off to Mam- moth lake and the mountains for “King of the Royal Mounted.” Now all she needs is an engagement with some company that's headed for Honolulu, Hollywood's pet hon- eymoon spot. Joe Penner is going to make that picture at last. And because chil- dren have become sure-fire hits on the screen, he'll be assisted by Patsy Lee Parsons, a five-year-old who sings and dances. The danc- ing teachers of this land ought to give Shirley Temple a medal or something. Everywhere—even out in the country where you wonder where and how they can take danc- ing lessons, you see little girls do- ing tap dancing nowadays. And shirley is responsible for that! wolfe Just one more story of the way things happen in Hollywood. Sam- uel Goldwyn wanted a German ace tress for a role in “Come and Get It." He was sure that none of the local talent measured up. So he had old German films run off for him, for days and days, in the hope of seeing exactly the right actress in one of them. If he found her, of course he'd have to find out where she was, and put her under contract, and have her brought to California at once. He found the girl in a picture called “Frederika’” and the wheels began to turn. Then it was dis- covered that she is Mady Chris- tians, who has been right in Hol- lywood for two years, yearning to make a lot of pictures but not get- ting too many assignments. tf oni Joan Crawford in The picture is beingreissuéd, not because of Joan's popularity, but because Fred Astaire had a small part in it, Nelson Eddy had a bit, too—just a flash and he's gone. And now see what fame the gen- tlemen have ate tained on the screen! Fred As- taire has achieved an unprecedented popularity in the gay night club Remember Joan Crawford * become the idol of millions of mov. ie goers as well as radio listeners. sssrcnne ODDS AND ENDS . . . Don’t miss he Moon's Our Home™ if you want y pice . + « Richard
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers