12
Mary Roberts Rinehart's
Thrilling Mystery of
"The Curve of the Catenary"
(Continued From Yesterday)
"Only Hazel, except the Mater. Oh,
yes. Sis saw it. She came in just after
the Mater had recognized it."
For a mile or so he said nothing. I
felt that he knew something, some
thing that would help me to link up
the chain. I rather thought he would
think it over and then tell me what
he knew. But when he spoke it was
to ask me a question.
"Ollie," he said suddenly, "why do
you suppose those jewels were taken
"Somebody needed the money."
"Did it ever occur to you that no
fortv-two women have a right to wear
a million dollars worth of adorn
ment?" _
"Never thought of it. Tn hy
shouldn't they if they have them?"
"Suppose," he said, "that you were
hungrv and penniless, and you stood
on the street by that awning into
Boisseau's. and saw great fortunes go
ing by, visualized, things you could
almost touch; I wonder if you would
have the same viewpoint."
"I mightn't like it. I wouldn't steal
them."
He left the subject then, and fell
to watching the sunset. We have
some pretty fine sunsets out our way
—plenty of hills for sky-line, and all
that.
"Do you ever see things in the
sky?" he asked suddenly.
But he left the sky before long and
talked about the mill. I wish I could
remember that conversation. I've
never thought much, you know. But
he made me think.
He made me see the mill the way
he saw it, not a daily grind, but a cog
In the machinery of the world. He
saw through the smoke and dirt and
noise of the place to its romance and
poetry. He made me ashamed. I'd
played around, and the governor had
schemed and planned, not only to
make money, but to do big things.
Oh, I saw it, all right.
Then he talked about the houses.
He said the governor's vision was big.
but not big enough. A cog in the
machine, we were, but a cog made of
human units. The governor couldn't
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FRIDAY EVENING, HARRISBURG TEIEGRAPH OCTOBER 20, 1916.
see it. Grayton was a scandal in hous
ing and sanitation. The best machin
ery was hardly good enough for the
mill, but the houses could rot and
fall down, and the governor wouldn't
repair them. The children were ne
glected. the water front was filthy—
Heavens, he called off our sins, all
right.
"I'm telling you this, "he said, "be
cause it has been a sort of dream of
mine but we'll not talk about
dreams. Do you know that one day
when you were throwing dice for a
hundred dollars a throw at the club
one of the houses caved in the
river bank and killed a woman .
"Yes. I've never told you, Oilie.
I was born right here in Grayton. My
father and mother died in a. typhoid
epidemic. Contaminated water. Oh,
I know what the horrors are. There
were a lot of us. My brother fell
down once on a broken staircase and
broke his ankle. It's been weak ever
since." _ , .
I'd never known anything about
htm before. He had never talked
about himself. We blew out a tire
Just then, and I had to change a rim.
I drew up beside the road and Martin
offered to help.
"You'd better let me do it. I said.
"You've got a bad arm, haven't you.
"It's a bit stiff, but I can use it.
He held it out to me and bent the
wrist gingerly. "Swelling s gone
down," he said.
But he held out his left arm. and it
was the right one he had injured.
I must have looked queer, but he
was stooping over the tool box and did
not notice it. I went behind the car
to get the spare tire, and it gave me
a chance to pull myself together.
Then he hadn't hurt his arm. It
was a trick, a—did you ever believe
with all your might in somebody and
then lose your faith in a minute? It's
horrible. ' It's terrifying.
I could hear him getting out a
wrcncb and whistling thoughtfully as
I worked with the straps that held the
tire. I'm not very quick. It takes my
mind a little time to readjust itself.
But I knew I'd made no mistake
about the arm.
Then why? There was a reason
What was it?
I think by the time I went around
with the tire he'd realized his mistake,
for he had the wrench in his left har.d
and was working at the bolts awk
wardly. He eyed me, too, but I man
aged to keep my face vacant.
Somehow or other I got the new
rim on. and we started off. I could
control my face, but I was afraid of
my voice, so I did not talk, and Mar
tin, too, said very little.
He had said he had hurt his arm.
and he had not. Perhaps he had not
wanted to play golf that afternoon.
But why had he not wanted to play
golf? The thing kept working around
in my head. Not because he wanted
to do anything else. He had gone
over the course with me.
Near the end of the trip he began
to talk. "I'd warned Mr. Hazeltine,"
he said. I had an odd idea that he
was talking to keep me from thinking.
"The thing was of no practical value,
and it was expensive. He was always
losing cameras and buying new lenses.
When he began with the wire it did
not strike me as dangerous, but later
on I warned him. He had promised
to wait until after midnight, but he's
old and as impatient as a child."
Why had he not wanted to play
golf?
"The trouble was with the new
wire. The old wire was better. This
new stuff kinked and every kink
meant a break in a strong wind. It
snapped off like twine."
Why had he not wanted to plav
golf?
"Knowing what I did, the sight of
that poor devil's throat pretty nearly
got me. And the woman, the office
cleaner—it was horrible. I felt re
sponsible, in a way. I tried to ease
my mind by sending some money next
day to the family, but the fact re
mains. I could have stopped it and
I didn't."
Why had he not wanted to plav
golf?
Well, I wanted to get off by myself
and think, and I believe he was glad
to get rid of me. He made some ex
cuse about having his clubs done over,
and left me. We'd come out there to
talk things over, and the minute we
got there we separated:
I went out on the links and sat on
a bunker. It was growing dusk, and
there was no one about. I went over
all I could remember of our trip there,
and it didn't help much. We had
gone in his car. and he had stalled the
engine. When he started it the crank
slipped, and he had said he hurt his
arm. When he got to the club he
sent his things to his locker, and went
with me to the links. He had not been
out of my sight once.
There was the incident of the box
kite. Had that had anything to do
with it? I thought it likely that it
was the one that had broken away.
Not because I thought it mattered,
but because I had to have something
to do. I walked over to the pit where
I'd burned it. The ashes had blown
away, but there was still a piece of
fine wire lying there. I picked it up,
and followed it along the grass. There
must have been a hundred feet of it
I sat down there and thought about
things. Where had Martin been at
the time of the hold-up at Boisseau's'
He had been with me. We had gone
fi cm the taxicab to the police station
But—just suppose that Martin knew
about the robbery, that he knew the
wire would break.
But what had that to do with his
not playing golf?
Step by step, sitting at the edge of
the sand pit, I went over what I knew
of his movements since the robbery.
IMI > , r ow — but was explain
able by his anxiety for Hazel. What
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he had said at the inquest, the slip
of paper from his pocket, with the
formula on it. Then our previous
trip, and his wounded wrist. He had
said he could not play, and had sent
his bag and clubs to his locker.
Why?
And then, all at once, I knew.
It's not easy to write about the rest
of that day, or of the surprising way
it ended. Maybe I'm not smart. Per
haps I should have known all along.
Martin's face should have told me.
I've thought since.
But the plain truth is that I didn't
see it at all.
He hunted me up on the links. It
was dusk by that time, and I heard
his footsteps before I saw him. There
was nobody else around. We golf
until pretty well on into the winter,
but the twilight had driven the other
fellows in.
He stood over me and lighted a cig
arette with his back to the wind.
Then, "I'm sorry, old man," he said.
I didn't say anything: I couldn't.
"Suppose we walk about a bit," he
said. "There's a deuce of a wind."
I got up heavily. . I couldn't look at
him. I'd believed in him for a long
time.
"First of all," he said, as we started
off. "I want to give you this." He
held it out. It was the key to his
locker.
' "And then I want to ask you a
question. Have you no idea who took
that suitcase from your room?"
"None whatever." I was holding
the key to the locker, and believe me,
for a minute or so I Just didn't want
to live.
"Then I will tell you," he said. "It
was your sister. She recognized it as
mine. How she ever remembered it—
but that Isn't important. She'd seen
it when I spent a week-end with you
once. It had belonged to—my broth-
er, and his initials were scratched off.
She knew it at once."
"How do you know?"
"Because she brought it to me. She
carried it, poor girl. It was on Sunday
night. She told your mother, and the
only thing they could think of was to
get it back to me. What your mother
thought—"
"I know. I don't want to talk about
it. I don't see the use of talking at
all. We won't get anywhere."
"What are you going to do about
it?" he said after a pause.
"What is there to do? I can't—"
I couldn't go on.
"I didn't think you would. Of
course, I'll make no effort to Bet away.
If you change your mind I'll not be
hard to find."
"How are we going to return the
cursed things?" I shot opt at last.
"I've got to have some explanation If
I take them back."
"That might not be difficult."
"I don't believe you did it," I said
obstinately. "I may be a fool and a
play boy, but you were with me when
the things were taken."
"I don't say I took them. I've never
said that. I'm responsible for their
being stolen. As soon a.s they were
taken they were brought to me. They
arc in my locker now, in my golf bag.
That's enough, isn't it?"
"Then there was somebody else?"
"I had an —accomplice; I believe
that's the word."
"'Good heavens, Martin! It isn't be
ltevable. If thr-e was any reason for
such a thing—'
"I've told you haven't I, that I'm
a bit of an anarchist?"
"Still there are a lot of things I
don't understand. The fellow who
held me up and examined the suitcase
—who was he?"
"The accomplice," he said dryly.
"Gentlemen of our profession do not
always trust each other."
The whole thing was horrible. I
felt sick. The lights under the porte
cochere of tho clubhouse had been
turned on. and I could see Martin's
fate faintly. He looked old and very
tired. And suddenly I remembered
Hazel, and the ring she wore around
her neck, and what this would mean
to her if she ever learned it.
"Of course," I said, "Hazel must
not know all this."
"Thank you, OIlie," he said. "I'm
going away from her, and as she
thinks well of me now, it would be
kinder to us both to leave things as
they are."
Well, maybe I wasn't quite sane
where Hazel was concerned. Any
how, his cool manner of saying he
was going away got my goat. I'm not
much of a person, but that got me.
I guess I was bitter, for he reddened
somewhat.
"You're taking something for
granted that isn't true," he said, when
I had finished. "She is not going to
feel my going away very deeply, be
cause she does not care very much.
She is grateful. I've helped her fath
er. But—it's a thing to give praise
for, under the circumstances she
does not care for me as much as I
wish she did."
"If you care so much," 1 said hotly,
"why did you give Lottie Murray that
bracelet?"
"Bracelet? What bracelet?"
I drew a long breath.
"Martin," I said slowly, "I'm a fool
and so are you. You never plotted
the thing. Whoever turned the trick
gave Olive Thomas' sapphire brace
let tr Lottie Murray. And it wasn't
you!"
Part of the rest of the thing you
know. The jewels were found the
next morning in a bunker near the
eighteenth hole. They were not even
in a box, but were lying in a heap.
The caddie who found them got a
SIO,OOO reward, and went to Florida
In his own automobile.
"Only one article was missing," said
the newspapers. "A sapphire brace
let belonging to Miss Olive Thomas
was not returned."
If I've given the impression through
this narrative that I solved the mys
tery I'm sorry. I didn't. The N. C.
didn't. He was never within smelling
distance of the robbery, although he
did discover old Hazeltine and his part
in the trouble.
The real solution was founU by
stance* that forced an issue. Both amiaii
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i Sis. You take a deb that weighs 110
pounds and arm her with a real cas
of love, and she has the ordinary de
tective running for a corner to die In.
She doesn't reason things out. Sh
feels them.
I had scene with Sis that nighi
when I got him. She'd come down
stairs dressed for a party and I held
her up in the library. Mater and th
governor were out.
"Ollic!" she said when she saw me,
"Why, you're as white as a sheet."
"I'm feeling white," I said. "And
you may as well sit down. You'rfl
not going out."
(To Be Continued.)