THE PATTON COURIER - | | | | oo | A Novel from the Play By Mary Roberts Rinehart and Avery Hopwood CHAPTER XI—Continued —] To Bailey swung in through the win- dow, panting a little from his exer- tions. “The man Lizzie saw drop from the gxylight undoubtedly got to the roof from this window,” he said. “IU’s quite easy.” Dale explained the situation to Jaci. “Aunt Cornelia thinks the money's still here.” Miss Cornelia snorted. *I know it's here.” She started to cpen the closets, one after the other, Beginning at the left. Jailey saw what she was doing and began to help her, Miss Cornelia rattled the knob of a high closet by the other wall. “This one is locked—and the key's gone,” she announced. A new flicker of interest grew in the eyes of the Unknown. Lizzie glanced away from him, terrified. Miss Cornelia pondered. “It may be locked from the inside— I'll soon find’ out.” She took a wire Lairpin from her hair and pushed it through the keyhole. But there was no key on the other side; the hair- pin went through without obstruction. Repeated efforts to jerk the door open tailed. And finally Miss Cornelia be- thought herself of a key from the other closet doors. Dale and Lizzie on one side— Bailey on the other—collected the keys of the other closets from their locks while Miss Cornelia starved at the one whose doors were closed as if £lie would force its secret from it with ber eyes. The Unknown had been so quiet during the last few minutes, that, unconsciously, the others had ceased to pay much attention to him, except the casual attention one de- votes to a piece of furniture. Even Lizzie's eyes were now fixed on the locked closet. And the Unknown him- self was the first to notice this. At once his expression altered to one of cunning—cautiously, with in- finite patience, he began to inch his chair over toward the wicker clothes- hamper. At last, he was within reach of the revolver. ‘His hand shot out in one swift sinuous thrust—vlutched the weapon—withdrew. He then con- cealed the revolver among his tat- tered garments as best he could and, ciatiously as before, inched his chair back again to its original position, “There—that, unlocked it!” cried Miss Cornelia, triumphantly, at last, as the key to one of the other closet doors slid smoothly into the lock and heard the click that meant vic- She was about to throw open the closet door. But Bailey motioned her back. “I'd keep back a little,” he cau- tioned. “You don’t know what way be inside.” “Mercy sakes, who wants to know? shivered Lizzie, Dale and Miss Cor- nelia, too, stepped aside involun- tarily as Bailey took the candle and prepared, with a good deal of caution, to open the closet door, The door swung open at last. He could look in. He did so—and stared appalied at what he saw, while goose- flesh crawled on his spine and the hairs of his head stood up. After a moment ne closed the door of the closet again, and turned back, white-fuaced, to the others. “What is it?” said Dale, aghast. “What did you see?” Bailey found himself unable to an- swer for a moment. Then he pulled hinself together. He turned to Miss Van Gorder, “Miss Cornelia, 1 think we have found the ghost the Jap butler saw,” id slowly. “How are your fe Si nerves; Miss Cornelia extended a hand that did not tremble. “Give ‘me the candle.” He did so. She went to the closet and opened the door. Huddled on the floor of the closet wus the body of a man. So crudely had he been crammed into this hid- sng-place that he lay twisted and bent. Miss Cornelia’s = voice sounded strange to her own ears when finally she spoke. “But who is it?” “It is—or was—Courtleigh ing.” said Bailey dully. “But how can it be? Mr. Fleming died two weeks ago. I—" “He died in this house, sometime tonight. The body is still warm.” “But who killed him? The Bat?” #“lsn’t it likely that the doctor did ft? The msn who has been his ac- complice all along? Who probably bought a cadaver out West and buried it with honors here not long ago?” But Miss Cornelia’s face was still thoughtful, and he went on: “lspn't it leas, Miss Van Gerder? Be queried, with a smile. “The doctor gud wd Mr, Pliming formed a con- spiriey—hoth needed money—Ilots of it. Fleming was {o rob the bank and hide the money here. Wells’ part was to issue a fale death certificate in the West, and bury a substitute body. secured God knows hew. It was easy —it kept the name of the president Flem- of the Union bank free from suspicion —and it put the blame on me.” He paused, thinking it out. “Only they slipped up in one place, Dick Fleming leased the house to you and they couldn't get it back.” “Then you are sure,” said Miss Cor- nelia quickly, “that tonight Courtleigh Fleming broke in, with the doctor’s as- sistance—and that he Killed Dick, his own nephew, from the staircase?” “Aren't you?’ asked Bailey, sur prised. The more he thought of it, the less clearly could he visualize it any other way. Miss Cornelia shook her head de- cidedly. “No.” “Wells tried to get out of the house tonight with that blue-print. Wiley? Because he knew the moment we got it, we'd come, up here—and Fleming was here.” “Perfectly true,” nodded Miss Cor- nelia. “And then?” “Old Fleming killed Dick and Wells killed Fleming,” said Bailey succinet- ly. “You can't get away from it!” ut Miss Cornelia still shook her head. “No,” she said. -“No. The doctor isn't a murderer. He's as puzzled as we are about some things. He and Courtleigh Fleming were working to- gether—but remember this—Doctor Wells was locked in the living room with us. He'd been trying to get up the stairs all evening—and failed every, time.” But Bailey was as convinced of the truth of his theory as she of hers. “He was here ten minutes ago— locked in this room,” he said “with a glance at the window-ladder up which the doctor had ascended. “I'll grant you that,” said Miss Cor- nelia. “But—" She thought back swiftly. “But at the same time an Un- known Masked Man was locked in that mantel-room with Dale. The doc- tor put out the candle when you opened that hidden room. Why? Be- rause he thought Courtleigh Fleming was hiding there!” Now the missing pieces of her puzzle were falling into their places with a vengeance. “But at this moment,” she continued, “the doctor believes that Fleming has made his escape! No—we haven't solved the mystery yvet—there’s another element —an unknown element,” her eyes rest- ed for a moment upon the Unknown. “And that element is—the Bat!” She paused. impressively. The oth- ers stared at her—no longer able ta deny the sinister plausibility of her theory. But this new tangling of the mystery, just when the black threads seemed raveled out at last, was al- most too much for Dale, “Oh, call the detective!” she stam- mered, on the verge of hysterical tears. “Let's get through with this thing! 1 can't bear any more!” But Miss Cornelia did not even hear her. Her mind, strung now to concert pitch, had harked back to the point it had reached some time ago, and which all the recent distractions: had mo- mentarily obliterated. Had the money been taken out of the house, or had it not? In that mad rush for escape of the man hidden with Dale in the recess back of the mantel, had he carried with him his booty, or left it behind? It was not in the hidden room, that was certain. Yet she was so hopeless by that time that her first search was purely perfunctory. It was when Bailey finally opened the lid of a clothes-hamper that they stumbled on their first clew “Nothing here but some clothes and books,” he said, glancing inside. “Books?” said Miss Cornelia dubi- ously. “I left no books in that ham- per.” Bailey picked up one of the cheap paper novels and read its title aloud, with a wry smile, “ ‘Little Rosebud’s Lover, or the Cruel Revenge,’ by Laura Jean—" “That's mine!” said Lizzie prompt- ly. “Oh, Miss Neily, 1 tell you this house is haunted. 1 left that book in my satchel, along with ‘Wedded but No Wife’ and now—" “Isn't that your satchel, lizzie?” asked Miss Cornelia, indicating a bat- tered bag in a dark corner of shadows above the window. Lizzie approached it gingerly. “Yes'm,” she admitted. But she did not dare approach very close to the recovered bag. It might bite her!” Miss Cornelia started for the satchel. Then she remembered. She turned to Bailey. “Youn open it,” she said graciously. “If the money's there—you're the one who ought to find it.” Bailey gave her a look of gratitude, Then, smiling at Dale encouragingly, he crossed over to the satchel, Dale at his *heels. Miss Cornelia watched him fumble at the catch of the bag— even Lizzie drew closer. For a mo- ment even the Unknown was forgot- ten. Bailey gave a triumphant cry. “The money's here!” “Oh. thank God!” sobbed Dale. It was an emotional moment It seemed to have penetrated even through the haze enveloping the in- jured man in his chair. Slowly he got up, like a man who has been waiting for his moment, and now that it had come was in no hurry about ft. With equal deliberation he drew the revolver and took a step forward. And at that instant a red glare appeared outside the open window, and overhead could be heard the feet of searchers, run- ning. “Fire!” screamed Lizzie, pointing to the window, even as Beresford's voice from the roof rang out in a shout, “The garage is burning!” They turned toward the door, to escape, but a strange and menacing figure blocked the way. It was the Unknown—no longer the bewildered stranger who had stumbled in through the living-room door—but a man with every faculty of mind and body alert and the light of a deadly purpose in his eyes. He covered the group with Miss Cornelia’s revolver. “This door is locked and the key is in my pocket!” he said in a savage voice, as the red light at the window grew more vivid yet and muffled cries and tramplings from overhead beto- kened universal confusion and alarm. CHAPTER XII “He Is—the Bat!” Lizzie opened her mouth to scream. But for once she did not carry out her purpose, “Not a sound out of you!” warned the Unknown, brutally, almost jab- bing the revolver into her ribs. He wheeled on Bailey. “Close that satchel,” he commanded, “and put it back where you found it!” Bailey's fist closed. He took a step toward his captor. “You—" he began in a furious voice, 3ut the steely glint in the eyes of the Bailey Picked Up One of the Cheap Paper Novels, Unknown was enough to give any man pause. “Jack!” pleaded Dale. Bailey halted. “Do what he tells you!” Miss Cor- nelia insisted, her voice shaking. A brave man may be willing to fight with odds a hundred to one—but only a fool will rush on certain death. Re- luctantly, dejectedly, Bailey obeyed— stuffed the money back in the satchel and replaced the latter in its corner of shadows near the window. He watched the Unknown intently. One moment of relaxed vigilance and— But though the Unknown was un- locking ire door with his left hand— the revolver in his right hand was as steady as a rock. He seemed to listen for a moment at the crack of the door. “Not a sound, if you value your lives!” he warned again. He shep- herded them away from the direction of the window with his revolver. “In a moment or two,” he said in a hushed, taut voice, “a man will come into this room, either through the door or by that window—the man who started the fire to draw you out of this house.” Bailey threw aside all pride in his concern for Dale's safety, “For God's sake, don’t keep these women here!” he pleaded, in low, tense tones. The Unknown seemed to tower above him like a destroying angel. “Keep them here where we can watch them!” he whispered with fierce impatience. “Don't you understand? There's a killer loose!” And so for a moment they stood there, waiting for they knew not what. So swift had been the transition from joy to deadly terror, and now to sus- pense, that only Miss Cornelia’s agile brain seemed able to respond. And at first it did even that very slow “I begin to understand,” she said, in a low tone. “The man who struck you down and tied you in the garage—the man who killed Dick Fleming and stabbed that poor wretch in the closet —the man who locked us in, down- stairs, and removed the money from that safe—the man who started that fire outside—is—" “Sssh!” warned the Unknown, im- peratively, as a sound from the direc- tion of the window seemed to reach his ears. He ran quickly back to the corridor door and locked it. “Stand back out of that light* The ladder!” The top of the extension-ladder began to tremble, A black bulk stood clearly outlined against the diminish- ing red glow—the Bat, masked and sinister, on his last foray! There was no sound as the killer stepped into the room. He waited for a second that seemed a year—still no sound. Then he turned cautiously toward the place where he had left the satchel—the beam of his flash- light picked it out. In an instant the Unknown and Bailey were upon him, There was a short, ferocious struggle in the dark- ness—a gasp of laboring lungs—the thud of fighting bodies clenched in a death-grapple. “Get his gun!” muttered the Un- known hoarsely to Bailey, as he tore the Bat's lean hands away from his throat. “Got it?” “Yes,” gasped Bailey. He jabbed the muzzle against a straining back. The Bat ceased to struggle. Bailey stepped a little away. “I've still got you covered!” he said fiercely. The Bat made no sound. “Hold out your hands, Bat, while I put on the bracelets,” commanded the Unknown in tones of terse tri- umph. He snapped the steel cuffs on the wrists of the murderous prowl- er, “Sometimes even the cleverest Bat comes through a window at night and is caught. Double murder—bur- glary—and arson! That's a good night's work even for you, Bat!” He switched his flashlight on the Bat’s masked face. As he did so the house lights came on—the electric light company had at last remembered its duties. All blinked for an instant in the sudden illumination, “Take off that handkerchief!” barked the Unknown, motioning at the black silk handkerchief that still hid the face of the Bat from recogni- tion, - Bailey stripped it from the hag- gard, desperate features with a quick movement—and stood appalled, A simultaneous gasp went up from Dale and Miss Cornelia. It was Anderson, the detective! And he was—the Bat! “It's Mr. Anderson!” stuttered Dale, aghast at the discovery, Ee EXEL Lo HXTT EXITS LT ST PTT LTP NTT ST NXT French Dandies First to Sport the Cravat One of the few words of Slavonic origin that does not retain its exotic flavor is cravat. The linen scarfs worn around their necks by Croatian merchants captivated the fancy of the fashionable French, who adopted the French word for Croatian to gesig- nate this kind of neckwear. Thus “croate” became ‘“crovate” or “cra- vate,” from whence our word “cravat.” The word was adopted in France in 1636 and appears in English about 1700. Its synonym, neckfie, is of later origin, its first use as cited by the Ox- ford dictionary being 1838, E Cravats when first introduced were not exclusively an article of men's ap- parel, but some, which were lace- edged and tied in a bow with flowing ends, were worn by women. “Cravat- Bird Has Multiplied The English sparrew was brought to the United States from England in 1850 by Nicholas Pike and other di- rectors of the Brooklyn institute, when eight pairs were liberated in " Brooklyn, N.-Y. The motive was to free the shade trees of devastating caterpillars, which at that tine were especially numerous and unnoying throughout the eustern states, ted” as a verb and “cravateet” ap- plied to one who ties a cravat, al- though now practically obsolete, were at one time frequently used. Thacke- ray in “Vanity Fair” speaks of a young man being “handsomely cra- vatted.” Used the New Name Years ago a young London dramatic critic blessed with the fine old name of Moses, got the idea that he would make greater strides in his profession were he to change his name. And so he did, blossoming forth as—Morton. Israel Zangwill, a brilliant wit, al- though fond of Morton, never quite forgave him the change of name, and on one occasion when the critic was the guest of honor at a dinner, over which Zangwill presided, the latter “stopped the show” for several min- utes when he began his remarks with : “And the Lord spake unto Morton, saying—".—Kansas City Star, Learn as You Listen “Ah!” remarked the fascinated hy- stander, after listening for a time to the moving man who had dropped a grand piano on his foot, “that's the phrase IT was trying to think" of yester- day on the links."—Detroit News. The Unknown Zloated over his cap- tive, . “I'm Anderson,” he said. “This man has been impersonating me, You're a good actor, Bat, for a fellow that's | such a bad actor!” he taunted. “How did you get the dope on this case? Did you tap the wires to headquar- ters?” The Bat allowed himself a little sardonic smile. “I'll tell you that when I—" he be- gan, then, suddenly, made his last bid for freedom. With one swift, des- perate movement, in spite of his hand- cuffs, he jerked the real Anderson's revolver from him by the barrel, then wheeling with lightning rapidity on Bailey, brought the butt of Ander- son’s revolver down on his wrist, Jailey's revolver fell to the floor with a clatter, The Bat swung toward the door. Again the tables were turned! “Hands up, everybody!” he ordered, menacing the party with the stolen pistol. “Hands up—you!” as Miss Cornelia kept her hands at her sides. It was the greatest moment of Miss Cornelia’s life, She smiled, sweetly, and came to- ward the Bat as if the pistol aimed at her heart were as innocuous as a toothbrush, “Why?” she queried mildly. “I took the bullets out of that revolver two hours ago.” The Bat flung the revolver toward her with a curse. The real Anderson instantly snatched up the gun that Bailey had dropped and covered him. “Don’t move!” he warned, “or I'll fill you full of lead!” He smiled out of the corner of his mouth at Miss Cornelia, who was primly picking up the revolver that the Bat had flung at her—her own revolver, “You see—you never know what a woman will do,” he continued. Miss Cornelia smiled. She broke open the revolver—five loaded shells fell from it to the floor. The Bat stared at her—then stared incredu- lously at the bullets. “You see,” she said, “I, too, have a little imagination!” CHAPTER XIII Quite a Collection. An hour or so later, in the living | room whose terrors had departed, Miss Cornelia, her niece and Jack Bailey were gathered before a roaring fire. The local police had come and gone; the bodies of Courtleigh Flem- ing and his nephew had been removed to the mortuary; Beresford had re- turned to his home, though under summons as a material witness; the Bat, under heavy guard, had gone off under 'charge of the detective. As for Doctor Wells, he, too, was under arrest, and a broken man though, con- sidering the fact that Courtleigh Flem- ing had been throughout the prime mover in the conspiracy, he might escape with a comparatively light sentence. Calmly and dispasslonately Miss Cornelia worked out the cross-word puzzle of the evening and announced her results. ’ “It is all clear,” she said. “Of course, the doctor had the blue-print, And the Bat tried to get it from him. Then when the doctor had stunned him and locked him in the billiard room, the Bat still had the key and unlocked his own handcuffs. After that he had only to get out of a win- dow and shut us in here, And again: | BORN PEDAGOGUE “Look here,” cried the indignant housewife, “you said that if I gave you a square meal you'd mow the grass and roll the lawn for me.” “l did, lady,” admitted the out-of- work, his eyes downcast, “Then,” said the woman, “I've shown you where to find the mower and the roller. Now, why don't you get on with it?” “Lady, I'd like to, but I am doing this for your own good. I've got to teach you a lesson. Never take any- body's word.” HOW SHE DOES IT _—ly, § He—You do that very gracefully. She—Pooh! Pooh! All the girls say I do it disgracefully. The Dance Poets prattled long ago Of the light fantastic toe, They might warble, we'll allow, Of fantastic shoulders now. Poor but Happy “You have been coming to Washing- ton a great many years.” “Yes,” answered Senator Sorghum. “And I have shown my love of coun- try in doing so.” “You mean you have made sacri- fices?” “Well, I don’t exactly say a gov- ernment is ungrateful, but it doesn’t measure up to a big corporation in making up a liberal pay roll.”—Wash- ington Star. Bankrupt Mrs. Mark—Your husband comes of | fine old stock, doesn’t he? “He had probably trailed the went detective all the way from town and attacked him where Mr. Beresford found the watch.” Once, too, she harkened back to the | anonymous letters. “It must have been a blow to the doctor and Courtleigh Fleming, wheh they found me settled in the house!” She smiled grimly, “And when their letters failed to dislodge me.” But it was the Bat who held her interest; his daring assumption of the detective’s identity, his searching of the house, ostensibly for their safety but in reality for the treasure, and that one moment of irresolution when he did not shoot the doctor at the top of the ladder. And thereafter lost his chance, It somehow weakened her terrified admiration for him, but she had noth- ing but acclaim for the escape he had made from the hidden room itself. “That took brains,” she said. “Cold, tard brains. To dash out of that room. and down the stairs, pull off his mask and pick up a candle, and then to come calmly back to the trunk. room again and accuse the doce- tor—that took real ability, Jut 1 dread to think what would have hap- pened when he asked us all to go out and leave him alone with the real Anderson!” When Lizzie came at last to coax and scold her into bed. she was sit- ting happily at the table, surrounded by divers small articles which she was handling with an almost childlike zest. A clipping about the Bat from the evening newspaper; a piece of paper on which was a well-defined finger-print; a revolver and a heap of five shells; a small, very dead, bat; the anonymous warnings, including the stone in which the last one had been wrapped; a battered and broken watch, somehow left behiad; a dried and broken dinner roll, and the box of sedative powders brought by Doc- tor Wells, Lizzie came over to the table and surveyed her grimly. “You see, Lizzie, it's quite a collee- tion, I'm going to take them and—" But Lizzie bent over the table and picked up the box of powders. “No, ma'am,” she said, with extreme finality. “You are not. You are going to tike these and go to bed.” And Miss Cornelia did. [THE END] Mrs. Park—Yes, but he rarely pays any dividends. TOUGH LUCK We got out “He was so adorable! about five miles and the car broke down.” “Gee! You were lucky.” “No, he turned out to be an aute mechanic and the stupid boy fixed the thing right up.” Finesse “Send no money,” say the ads And they never vary. They must bring a lot of scads, People are contrary. Foresight “You are going to buy a radio?” “No, two of them.” “What's the idea?” “Well, we are buying two because on the’ nights when the static is bad on one we can use the other.” Fate Jail Visitor—What made you a thief? Prisoner—Circumstances; the same thing that made you a gentleman,— Boston Transcript. Hard Luck “Did you dear the joke about that cinema actress?” “No, what was {t?” “Her secretary didn’t keep the rec: ords straight, and now she finds she | has had two more divorces than she’s had weddings.” Well Stocked Dog Catcher—Do your dogs have licenses? Small Boy—VYes, sir, they're just cgvered with them, The BABY No mother in this enlightened age would give her baby something she did not know was perfectly harmless, especially when a few drops of plain Castoria will right a baby’s stomach and end almost any little ill. Fretful- ness and fever, too; it seems no time until everything is serene. That's the beauty of Castoria; its gentle influence seems just what is needed. It does all that castor oil might accomplish, without shock te the system. Without the evil taste. It's delicious! Being purely vegeta- able, you can give it as often as there's a sign of colic; constipation; diarrhea; or need to aid sound, nat- ural sleep. Just one warning: it is genuine Fletcher's Castoria that physicians recommend. Other preparations may be just as free from all doubtful drugs, but no child of this writer's is going to test them! Besides, the book on care and feeding of babies that comes with Fletcher's Castoria is worth its weight in gold. Children Cry for An Example Teacher—Can you tell me, Willie, what a hypocrite is? Willie—Yes, ma'am; it's me when I say [ don’t want any more pie. When You Feel a Cold Coming On. Take Laxative BROMO QUININE Tab- lets to work off the Cold and to fortify the system against an attack of Grip or Influenza. 30c.—Adv. Recalls Well-Known Party Tea has been accepted duty free in the United States since 1833. Help Kidneys y Drinking More Water Take Salts to Flush Kidneys and Help Neutralize Irri- tating Acids Kidney and bladder irritations often result from acidity, says a noted au- thority. The kidneys help filter this acid from the blood and pass it on to the bladder, where it may remain te irritate and inflame, causing a burn- ing, scalding sensation, or setting up an irritation at the neck of the blad- der, obliging you to seek relief twe or three times during the night. 'The sufferer is in constant dread; the wa- ter passes sometimes with a scalding sensation and is very profuse; agaim, there is difficulty in voiding it. Bladder weakness, most folks eall it because they can’t control urina- tion. While it is extremely annoying and sometimes very painful, this is often one of the most simple ailments to overcome. Begin drinking lots of soft water, also get about four ounces of Jad Salts from your phar- macist and take a tablespoonful in a glass of water before breakfast. Con- tinue this for two or three days. This will help neutralize the acids in the system so they no longer are a source of irritation to the bladder and uri- nary organs, which then act normal again. Jad Salts is inexpensive, and is made from the acid of grapes and lemon juice, combined with lithia, and is used by thousands of folks who are subject to urinary disorders caused by acid irritation. Jad Salts causes no bad effects whatever. Here you have a pleasant, efferves- cent lithia-water drink which may quickly relieve your bladder irritation. Garfield Tea Was Your Grandmother’s Remedy ry For every stomach and Intestinal ill, This good old-fash- loned herb home remedy for constis pation, stomach ills and other derange- ments of the sys- tem so prevalent these days is in evem greater favor as a family medicine than in your grandmother's day. ye OI\VE IN A AR \ A LOT AV < Ra =~ | \ =~] 5 =| ph WEE afl 1 (Copyright, W. N © by the M:xClu merc, mer
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers