© Ben Ames Willams,
SYNOPSIS
Barbara Sentry, seeking to sober up her
escort, Johnnie Boyd, on the way home
from a party, slaps him, and attracts the
attention of a policeman, whom the boy
knocks down. As he arrests him, Professor
Brace of Harvard confes to the rescue and
drives Barbara home. On the way they see
Barbara's father driving from the direction
of his office at 12:45, but when he gets home
he tells his wife it is 11:15 and that he's
been playing bridge at the club. Next day
Sentry reports his office has been robbed
and a Miss Wines, former temporary em-
ployee, killed. The evening papers luridly
confirm the story, and Sentry takes it hard.
Mary, elder daughter, in love with Neil Ray,
young interne at the hospital where she
works, goes off to dinner at Gus Loran's,
Sentry's partner, with Mrs. Loran's brother,
Jimmy Endle. Mr. and Mrs. Sentry call on
old Mrs. Sentry, and Barbara, alone, re-
ceives Dan Fisher, reporter, who advises
her not to talk. Phil Sentry, son at Yale,
is disturbed at the possible implications
and suspicion of Miss Wines’ absence from
her rooms for three days during August.
He goes home to help. Sentry is arrested
and booked for murder. Dan Fisher ex-
plains the evidence against him—that the
robbery was a fake, the safe opened by one
who knew the combination, changed since
Miss Wines’ employment there—that a back
door key, a duplicate of Sentry’'s, was found
in the girl's purse, and that Sentry, too, had
been away those three days in August
CHAPTER IlI—Continued
eB
Flood rubbed the knuckles of his
left hand with the palm of his right.
Then he said gravely, ‘Your hus-
band suggested that I come and—
tell you the situation, Mrs. Sentry.”
He added, “Ex officio, you might
say.” No one spoke, and he added,
“I regret to say that Inspector Irons
has booked Mr. Sentry on a charge
of murder.” He hesitated, ex-
plained, “The Inspector tried to find
me beforehand; but I was out, and
he thought it best to act without
delay.”
“Didn't he—exceed his authori-
ty?” Mrs. Sentry asked in dull
tones.
“No,” he admitted. *“‘And—I'm
bound to say that I should have act-
ed as he did, in his place.”
“You mean you would have ar-
rested Arthur?” She seemed to
choke, then added coldly, “You im-
ply he—is guilty?”
“I'm afraid there's enough evi-
dence to hold him.”
“That's outrageous! Have decent
citizens no rights?”
His color rose at her tone. “You
must understand that your husband
is accused of murder,” he retorted.
Mrs. Sentry closed her eyes and let
her head rest against the back of
the chair; and he added, more gen-
tly: “But of course, I want to do—
everything possible to protect you,
to see that you are—annoyed as lit-
tle as possible. There will be—"
Barbara, who had been in a deep
abstraction, cried now as though
suddenly remembering: “Oh, wait
a minute! Father didn't do it. Fa-
ther didn't kill her. I know he
didn’t!”
She leaned forward sharply, and
Mrs. Sentry’s eyes opened in swift
hope. The District Attorney said
sympathetically, “I know it must
seem incredible to you all, as it
does to me! I've known Mr. Sen-
try—""
‘““No, no!” Barbara cried. “I don’t
mean that. I mean, I really do
know he didn’t. I just realized that
he couldn't have. It said in the pa-
per that she was killed a little after
one oclock. A night watchman
heard the shot. Don’t you remem-
ber, Mr. Flood?”
“That was in the paper,” he as-
sented. ‘“‘But-"
She interrupted him. “But father
was home before then!’ she cried
triumphantly. “We saw him! Pro-
fessor Brace and I came up from
Essex through the East Boston Tun-
nel, and father passed us in his car
right outside the entrance. We fol-
lowed his car, stayed behind him all
the way out here.” She appealed
to Professor Brace. ‘You remem-
ber, don’t you?”
The District Attorney looked at
the other man. He asked in a curi-
ously quiet tone, “Is that right, Pro-
fessor Brace?”
Brace, after a moment,
“Yes. Yes, that's correct.”
“And what time was that?”
“That was before one o'clock!”
Barbara said eagerly. “I looked at
my watch as I came in the house,
and it was quarter of one. So fa-
ther couldn't have, don't you see?
He was already at home before she
was killed!”
The girl's eyes were shining, her
cheeks bright with triumph. But
Mrs. Sentry, while Barbara spoke,
felt all her muscles slowly contract.
Her body was like an empty shell,
and her ears rang.
She heard, as though at a great
distance, District Attorney Flood tell
Barbara in an even tone that this
was very interesting and would be
considered; but more real to her
than Mr. Flood's word® were other
words, spoken that night when Ar-
thur came home from his bridge
game, and she half woke to greet
him, and asked him, murmurning
drowsily, “What time is it?"
And-—she remembered with a ter-
rible and conclusive certainty--he
bad replied, “Quarter past eleven.”
But if Barbara told the truth, then
said:
Arthur had lied. And if he had lied—
Her thoughts recoiled, refused to
answer the hideous, damning ques-
tion.
CHAPTER IV
Mrs. Sentry slept not at all till a
little before dawn; she woke to face
a naked sun just rising in a raw
and aching glare above the eastern
horizon, leering at her through the
trees whose foliage had thinned even
during the night and now would
soon be gone. Her eyes opened, but
not to full consciousness; she lay for
a while, turning her head sidewise
to avoid the glare, watching small
shadows shift and change on the
rough plastered wall.
Then she turned to look toward
Arthur's bed, and saw the spread
and pillow cover rumpled as though
someone had lain there; and she
remembered that Mary had come in
to her last night, weeping in furi-
ous and passionate revolt, in hurt,
tormented pride.
And little by little she remem-
bered all the rest, picking up this
fact and that circumstance, and set-
ting them in their proper relation to
one another. I'm glad I'm alone,
can be alone for a while, she
thought; and she decided that if any-
one came to wake her she would
pretend to be asleep. Mary had
seemed to blame her father, with a
raging bitterness; had been filled
with anger more than grief, like a
mother robbed of her child, a girl
of her lover.
Thinking of Mary, Mrs. Sentry
thought of Neil Ray. Mary had not
mentioned him last night; yet there
had been something like terror as
an undercurrent to her wrath.«Mrs.
Sentry wondered what Neil Ray
would do or say to all this. Re-
membering his anxiety to escape
from the house the other night, she
thought there might be something
of the prig in that young man, a
tendency to deplore—
Deplore? The District Attorney,
she remembered,
something last night. ‘““Deplored the
necessity!” That was it. He had
asked her to promise that the chil-
dren would all remain available as
witnesses if needed; and he had
her to testify, but she had said of
course she would stay near Arthur.
“Near my husband,” she had said,
and remembered now that when Ar-
thur gave her the new ring, the
emerald, on her birthday three or
four weeks before, he had signed
the enclosed card “Your Husband,”
and she had felt a sense of strange-
ness at the time, because he usually
used his name, just Arthur. And
also the ring had been a lavish pres-
ent, without precedent in recent
years, so that she had smilingly
accused him of a guilty conscience.
Her birthday in September! Miss
Wines had worked for her husband's
firm during the summer; and that
mysterious absence of which the pa-
pers spoke, when the girl was sup-
posed to have gone to New Hamp-
shire, was in August; and then
when they all came home from York
Harbor for Mrs. Sentry’s birthday,
in September, Mr. Sentry gave her
that beautiful emerald and signed
himself “Your Husband.”
She understood now. He must
have sought to ease his conscience
so, and she thought with more ten-
derness than she had felt toward
him for years how unhappy he must
have been since then, playing a
part, suffering through sleepless
nights. Insomnia. I wonder, she
thought, whether I'll have insom-
nia now. I slept last night, a little,
I'm still half asleep. It doesn’t hurt,
so I must be. Why am I so sure
Arthur did it? If I were a young
girl, his bride, I should be loyally,
blindly sure of his innocence; but
I'm an old woman, old, old. Bar-
bara is sure he is innocent. Does
Mary know, I wonder? And Phil? 1
wonder whether I shall see Arthur
today. I can’t help him. It's the
children who need me now. I won-
der if they're awake. What time is
it? I ought to keep my traveling
clock on the bedside table here, so
that if Mr. Flood asks me how I
knew it was quarter past eleven,
when Arthur came home that night,
I needn't say Arthur told me. I
needn’t actually lie. I can say,
“There was a clock on the table be-
tween our beds.” I needn't say I
looked at it.
She rose at the thought and went
to fetch the clock from her dress
ing-room and set ft on the table here
beside her bed, but she did not lie
down again. The household, the
servants, would be excited when
they saw the morning papers. She
must control the situation. She
iressed, and rang, and when Nellie
came, pale and shaking, she asked
crisply, “Are the children down,
Nellie?”
“Philip is.”
“Neither of the girls?”
“No.”
Will you ask Oscar and Emma to
come up here, please, and you come
with them."
Five minutes later they ‘filed in
and faced her. Oscar stood stolid.
ly. Nellie wrung her wretched
hands. Big Emma, the cook, was
crying openly, her lips mumbling
nervous blubbering sobs.
Mrs. Sentry said, “That's not nec-
essary, Emma!” And she added:
“We are all going to have an un-
pleasant time for a while. Of course
I shall not be surprised, or blame
any of you, if you wish to leave.”
She felt grateful for their quick ex-
pressions of loyalty. Grateful for
the loyalty of servants? Was she
already brought so low? “You're
quite free to go,” she insisted stiff-
ly. “But please understand, if you
stay, I shall expect a perfectly nor-
mal household-—as if nothing had
happened.’
She hesitated, then went on: “You
must, of course, help the police in
every possible way, be completely
frank, truthful, hide nothing!’ It
was useless and dangerous to try
to drill the servants in lies or de-
nials; and-—there was nothing they
could really know, or tell. She add-
ed: “That is all. I count on you.”
Emma wiped her eyes, and they
filed out. Later, after she was
dressed, Phil came in and said,
“ "Morning, mother.” He kissed her
awkwardly, an unaccustomed ges-
ture. ‘“‘Dean Hare's downstairs. I
wasn’t sure you were awake."
“Perhaps he will have breakfast
with us,” Mrs. Sentry suggested.
“Is Mrs. Hare with him?’ Mrs.
Hare was a cheerful, chuckling, loy-
al friend, but—Mrs. Sentry hoped
she was not here just now.
Phil said, “No, he's alone.” They
went downstairs together. Dean
Hare was in the living-room, and
Mrs. Sentry greeted him almost with
a smile.
“Good morning, Dean,” she said.
“I hoped you would come."
“l came last night, after I left—
Arthur,” he explained, ‘‘but the
hous was dark. I thought, if you
were asleep, better not to wake you;
so I didn't ring.”
“How is Arthur?”
He said slowly, “Shocked and
shaken, but—all right." He added,
“1 arranged about the telephone at
once, after Phil called me, so you
won't be bothered.” He told her
the new number. “You can give
and
continued, ‘‘Then I went to him, to
Arthur." He hesitated, said thought-
fully, “You know, Bob Flood and
Arthur and I played bridge together
that night, Thursday night.”
Mrs. Sentry started to speak, then
said to her son, “Phil, tell Nellie Mr.
Hare will have breakfast with us.”
“I've had breakfast,” the lawyer
replied.
“A cup of coffee, at least,” Mrs.
Sentry insisted. “And you may
change your mind. Go on, Phil.”
Phil went toward the kitchen, and
Mrs. Sentry said, in a lower tone,
as soon as he was out of hearing:
“Yes, Arthur told me. He got home
a little after eleven.” Phil last night
had heard Barbara tell the District
Attorney that her father had come
home just before one; he must not
hear her say this now.
Hare nodded. ‘Yes, he told me
he came straight home; and that
of course makes it impossible that—
he could have done this. He couldn't
have left the Club when he did, and
--gone to the office, and still got
home so soon.”
She said, “You don’t need to con-
vince me, Dean!” But she was
thinking: So Arthur has lied to Dean
Hare as he lied to me. I suppose
he thinks--hopes—no one saw him
come home.
Then Phil returned to say break-
fast was ready. They went into the
dining-room, sat down. "I must see
Arthur today,” she said.
The lawyer hesitated. “It might
be as well to—wait,”” he advised.
“In fact he told me to ask you to
wait; that he wouldn't be there long,
that it would be unpleasant for you.”
“Nonsense! I'm no—timid girl!
I shall see him today. Will you ar-
range it?”
Phil said, “I'll go with you, moth.
er.”
‘No, Phil,
hear.
Dean Hare said tentatively:
the—reasons the police give for the
arrest. Of course, the
papers—"'
er; but—let Dean tell her
wished.
talked.
pers!”
Hare nodded.
on: “You see, the girl had a key to
the back door. Inspector Irons came
Sunday morning to
or three years ago.
janitor down there, put it on, and
gave Arthur and Gus Loran keys.
“The Inspector took Arthur's key,
an's. Gus was in New York, went
till late last night; but Mrs. Loran
found his key book and Irons picked
out the key. He found that the key
thur's, and from the one in Miss
Wines' bag. But hers was a dupli-
cate of Arthur's; and her
seemed pretty new, but Arthur's
was older than the other two, more
worn,
the keys. They all worked in the
lock. He asked lke Tory why they
were different. It turned out that
when lke put the new lock on, a
year or so ago, only two keys came
with it; so he took an old key that
was something like these, and filed
it down himself till it fitted the lock.
Ike takes pride in saving money
for the firm; did it to save having
a new key made, to save 75 cents
or whatever it was. And he gave
Arthur the key he made, kept one
of the originals himself, gave the
other to Gus Loran.”
He hesitated, and Mrs. Sentry said
automatically, “I don’t see anything
in that."
Hare was uncomfortable. “Well,
Irons believed,” he told her, *‘that
the dead girl's key must have been
made from Arthur's, because they
matched perfectly, while her key
didn't match Loran’s; so he had all
the locksmiths canvassed, and late
yesterday afternoon they found a
man who remembered making the
key. He remembered it, because he
cate; and the customer said Yes.”
and he concluded:
He picked your father out of a line-
made."
him who to pick!” Mrs.
er told us all this.
member,
Hare said regretfully: “Well, Ar-
cate key made. He said he kept
it in his desk in case he lost the
other. He thinks Miss Wines must
have stolen it.”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Strokes of lightning are preceded
by ‘feelers’ which guide the main
bolt to its objective, according to
Karl B. McEachron, high voltage
nectady (N. Y.) United Press cor-
respondent.
The lightning stroke which ap-
pears to be a single one-way dis-
charge is met part way by a small
flash. originating from the earth, he
said. This preliminary discharge
attracts the main stroke and draws
it to the ground.
In some cases the leader stroke
shoots upward to a cloud, to be im-
mediately followed by several suc-
cessive flashes over its exact path
from the sky downward, McEach-
ron said.
The discoveries of lightning habits
were made through a three-year ob-
servation of the Empire State build-
ing in New York city, the best and
most frequently struck lightning
conductor that could be found.
The study was conducted by the
Gendral legit company to solve
problem better protection to
transmission lines and other elec-
trical apparatus.
Hundreds of pictures taken by &
high-speed camera aimed at the
1,025-foot tower from another sky-
scraper displayed strange phenom-
ena in lightning conduction.
“We learned that leader strokes
which precede all lightning flashes
move toward the ground in a series
of hesitating steps of approximately
200 feet in length,” McEachron ex-
plained. “The streamers progress
this short distance, substantially die
out, and after a wait of a few mil-
lionths of a second proceed in a
second step, repeating until they
reach the earth. Suceeeding flashes
move without hesitation at speeds of
10,000 miles per second or faster.”
Dr. B. F. J. Schonland in South
Africa, using a camera similar to
REMEMBERED INSTRUCTIONS
Little Johnny, aged four, had been
receiving a lesson in politeness. His
father told him: “And remember
when you are in a bus and a lady
A few days later they were in a
bus. It was very crowded. Johnny
sat on his father's knee. People
lady was standing, Johnny jumped
“Take my seat, miss,” he said.
Economy
Smythe-Brown arrived one eve-
business affairs were in a sad state.
His wife was helpful.
“Well,” she said brightly, “there's
only one thing to do. We must cut
down expenses. Now, how can I
economize—] know! 1 won't wear
that new diamond necklace to the
theater tonight!''—Vancouver Sun.
MAKING A GUESS
“Charles says there is an intan-
gible something about me that
makes him love me.”
“It's probably your suit.”
A Proxy on Duly
It was an Irish judge who, just
about to deliver an elaborate sum-
ming-up, noticed that there were
only 11 men in the box.
“Where is the twelfth juror?” he
asked, irritably.
“Oh, that's all
foreman, genially.
away on business
ing, but he's left
me."
right,” said the
‘““He was called
early this morn-
his verdict with
Just Like That
Lawyer—Then you admit that you
struck the dafendant with malice
aforethought?”
Defendant, indignantly—You can’t
mix me up like that. I've told you
twice I hit him with a brick, and on
purpose. There wasn't no mallets
nor nothin’ of the kind about it—
just a plain brick like any gentle-
man would use.”
Not So Easy
A little girl was showing a visitor
over her father's farm, and proudly
pointed to a cow which, she said,
was her very own.
“And does your cow give milk?”
“Well, not exactly,” replied the
“You've sort of got to take
Some Mistake
Rastus—Is yo’ sure, Mr. Johnsing,
dat was a marriage license yo’ sold
me last month?
Clerk Johnson—Certainly, Rastus.
Why?
Rastus—Becaus’ I'se led a dog's
life ever since.
Imperfect
She—I1 was dreaming of the ideal
machine—just press the button and
He—Yes, but who presses the but-
SILLY QUESTION
men’s wages?”
“Great gosh, lady, ain't they bin
gettin’ 'em since the year one?”
Poetic
A pupil was asked to write a short
verse using the words analyze and
anatomy. Here's what he produced:
“My analyze over the ocean,
My analyze over the sea,
My analyze over the ocean
O, bring back my anatomy!”
First an O. T. C. (preparing
say)—What do you call those tablets
te Gauls used to write on?”
graph Topics.
Favorite Recipe
of the Week ~
HILLY fall days and cranberry
relish go together. Tart rel-
Raw cranberries and
per are simple to prepare and in-
expensive. No cooking and can be
put up for future use in sterilized
glasses covered with paraffin,
Cranberry Orange Relish
(No cooking)
The aristocrat of relishes, Par-
ticularly good with all meats, hot
or cold,
1 pound (4 cups) cranberries
2 oranges 2 cups sugar
Put cranberries through food
chopper. Slice oranges, remove
seeds and put rind and oranges
through chopper. Mix with ber-
ries and sugar. Let stand for a
few hours before serving. This
easy, popular uncooked relish can
be put up for future use in steri-
lized glasses covered with par-
affin.
Cranberry Horseradish Relish
Mix chopped raw cranberries
with grated fresh horseradish in
proportions of #5 cranberries to %
horseradish. Serve with meats.
HOUSEHOLD
QUESTIONS \ /
meses i
Bright Silverware.—When your
silverware becomes tarnished,
place it in potato water and let it
stand one hour. Take out and
wash and it will look like new.
- ® »
Keeping Mustard Moist.—Dry
mustard mixed with milk instead
of water will not dry out but will
keep moist until it has all been
used.
- LJ »
The Singing Kettle.—~When a
coal stove is used it is foolish to
allow the teakettle to be empty at
any time. One always can find a
use for boiling or very hot water,
A mother may save a few pennies
giving her children unknown prep-
arations. But a child's life is pre-
cious beyond pennies. So—Ask pour
doctor before you give any remedy
you don’t know all about.
And when giving the common
children’s remedy, milk of mag-
pesia, always ask for “Phillips”
Milk of Magnesia.
Because for three generations
Phillips’ has been favored by man
physicians as a standard, reliable
and proved preparation — marvel-
ously gentle for youngsters.
Many children like Phillips’ in
the newer form — tiny peppermint-
flavored tablets that chew like
candy. Each tablet contains the
equivalent of one teaspoonful of the
liguid Phillips.’ 25¢ for a big box.
A bottle of Phillips’ liquid Milk
of Magnesia costs but 25¢. So—any-
one can afford the Jeanine. Careful
mothers ask for it by its full name
“Phillips’ Milk of Magnesia.”
PHILLIPS’ MILK OF MAGNESIA
* IN LIQUID OR TABLET FORM
Reign of Ages
At 20 years of age, the will
reigns; at 30, the wit; and at 40,