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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (April 6, 1925)
' --- The Long Green Gaze A Cross Word Puzzle Mystery i By Vincent Fuller . (Continued from Saturday.I As I lie search started, Ghopal came to life again. Protest followed pro test a* they went first through his pockets, ami then started on his tur ban. As Burke lingered the pale blue folds of it, Ghopal surpassed him self. The women turned- at a low' ex clamation from Burke, who had just unloosened a silver ornament on the turban. \s they beheld the length of shimmering pule blue silk unwound from Ghopal's head, they all stared, entranced b> the color and delicacy of the fabric. . “l,ook! ' cried Helen, as the last fold shook loose, and across the floor rolled a small green luminosity, eerily radiant. As the heirs hung hack, in fasci nated horror, Burke and Hardy col lided in a scramble to retrieve the gem. When Ghopal saw Burke standing upright, smiling, and holding the emerald in his hand, he hinged frenziedlv out of the chair in which he had been sitting, and struck at Burke with his hand-cuf^d fists. Burke Warded off the blow, and the other men secured Ghopal again, pin ioning him in his chair with the pale, blue length of silk that had been his turban. Ghopal's disordered black hair fell about his tense face, on the brownish pallor of which glistened great beads of sweat. Chalfonte looked on, shocked into silence. i “What’s he been saying, anyway?” Burke demanded. “You know his lingo, don't you?" “Only a little, and I can get almost nothing when he goes so fast,” Civil fonte answered. “He claims the emer ald Is Ills. ... 'It ls mine, thou dog,’ was part of it. ‘It Ls mine, unspeak able tilth of an—unbeliever,’ eeinybc. Something about desecration, too, and vengeance of the gods. And he's quite vehement about Its being his.” ♦•He can explain it all later in a nice big room," Burke commented. “We ll take him. to headquarters and let him get the taste of truth on his tongue. We’re going to get to the bottom of this thing now. . . . And as for that emerald, well. I’ll take it to Lushington myself." “But wait a minute," he snapped out. as Hardy was about to leave With Ghopal. “Wonder what he did with the setting. Where ls it, you brown devtl?" Ghopal was silent now. a wounded fury in his eyes. He sat as if he had withdrawn to some secure inner recess of the spirit, where he brooded over the injuries done him, and offered silent prayers to invisible deathless gods. The questions Burke Europe --Day by Day V _I—I . By o. o. McIntyre. Cherbourg. April 5.—Bark, through picturesque Normandy again, to Cher bourg. Always the same picture— peasants in the fields, the big white Norman horses pulling carts. And the inevitable slashing shower. Scarce ly ever a rainless day in Normandy. The Olympic was at anchor outside the breakwater and the porter pirates descended upon us at the boat train. ' was determined not to give another ,ip in France. Porters are paid by the steamship companies for the work they do. Aline was a scarred and scowling brigand. lie stood waiting with hand extend ed after his casual service. When *te became insistent T suggested a jvtreat for him that would take hint cut of the Cherbourg ehill. He blasphemed me in French and I dittoed in English—winning fair hon ors. For once I felt rather iron willed. We waited in the foggy dampness on the tender while the usual custom haggling was taking place. Ancient Cherbourg was etched in the falling dusk. It reeks of antiquity. The people seem listless and even the dogs were haying their woe. And. speaking of dogs, there is a gentle-eyed pointer with a collection box strapped to his back that meets all steamers. The animal collects— or is supposed to—for the unfortunate animals of Cherbourg. I suspect it is another gesture in French penny gra ft. Every hotel servant in Paris conies to you with a subscription blank for some charity, which, I am told, goes mostly In their own pockets. France lias a blind spot for tills petty graft. It would not be interested In a law to stop gouging tourists. That is the national sport. It was a mighty relief to step up the gangplank to the Olympic. I have crosaed in—you do not cross “on’’ a steamer from Europe, hut ■’In’’—it before. It is swift and sturdy and somehow manages usually to have a gay and sporty passenger list. Afv stateroom was amidships and the pitch of the lsiat caused a mighty creaking—like that of a giant shoe. I had the,feeling of a slate pencil being pulled through my teeth. The purser came to the rescue and guve me a creakless room. t notice among the passenger list Sir E. Maekay Edgar and man ser vant, and Mr. Samuel Goldwyn and man servant. It would he appropriate lor two other passengers to be listed: Mrs. O. O. McIntyre and man servant. Royalty Is represented hy Prince Antoine Bibeseo. And Count Ver* ohere t'ohida. Zoology Is represented by a Mr. \yolff. Miss Baer. Mr. Fox, Aire. Lyon and Mr. Lepperd. A gaudy printed card was slipped under my door in the midst of tny homegoing happiness reading: “Ap ply at once to Mr. M. Fotherglll on deck C for your retqrn voYage.” 1 wrote on TTie reverse side: “Don’t be •illy. Am not returning.’’ And sent It hack. I have lost so many hats anti caps from the promenade decks thRt I took the precaution to Journey to the Latin quarter before leaving Paris to purchase a black turn worn hy the Basque students. It. would require a typhoon to lift It off. I suppose I will he mistaken for a poet or painter •nd already I find myself growing a little sad eyed and temperamental. I Jiave found quite a philosopher In l quaint and venerable night Stewart. He Is broken and bent. “In drinking te the health of others,” lie said. “I loat my own.’’ iCg(qTl(ht. lib i Hung at him might as well have been Hung at a. bronze image. "All light. v*iI right," Burke said at last. "He’ll talk tonight at head quarters, and he’ll be glad of the chance." As Chalfonte took a step forward, as If lie were going to accompany tthopal, he was halted by Burke's hand >>n his arm. "You stay right here, Mr. Chalfonte. When we want you. we'll tell you." Helen had pulled Howell into the music room. "Listen." she said, ex citedly. "t just know In killed Aunt Emily, too! Grant told you how he scared her at dinner the night before she was killed. They'll all tell you the same thing. Xow Grant will get off without any question, won’t he? . . . Won't he'.’" she pleaded, when Howell did not answer immediately. "Of course, he'll gel off. They can't hold him.” Howell left indefinite the reasons for their not holding Grant. Tt was hard to explain to the frantic hope in the dark eyejp watching him. just why Giant might not be Immediately released. "It may lake a day or two, Miss Barr. There's so much red tape, you know.” Red tape, he thought on to himself, of connecting the theft of a jewel two days after a murder with the actual murder itself. "J’11 .go on down town now," he went on, "and get just as much done as l can. And probably I'll be out tomorrow, and take you down to Sf-e Grant. Keep a .still' upper lit) and open eyes, and don't lose heart, everything's going to come out all right. So long." A moment later the lights of ids road ster were c utting a wide yellow swath through the foggy November night. Sobbing quietly with relief, her fears drugged with hope, Helen watched from the window until the small red tail-light of the car had disappeared from view. The others, she found, had gone to their rooms with surprisingly lit tle talk, and she decided to do like wise. She must be at her best when she met Grant. Homer Chalfonte alone remained behind. He sal in an armchair before the lire in the library, his head bowed on his hands, thinking. Vague memo ries sSrred drowsily in the back of his mind But as he reached them, thay eluded him, diving down into the dark waters of memory, reappearing far ther on. only to elude again his des perate pursuit. Out in the hall, Soames hooked the chain on the front door, quoting soft ly to himself: " 'A hair: perhaps, divides the false and true: Yes, and a single alif were the clue.’ ’’ CHAPTER IX. I nseen listeners. On Monday, after lunch, Chalfonte fretfully pared the library, smoking hls browned calabash, knocking the ashes out of it, filling it nervously, smoking again. Occasionally he tried to read, hut the papers had nothing, now', that was new to him. The theft of the jewel had superseded the mur der in the public, interest, but only a garbled version of the fact appeared in print. Two of the stories, by over stressing his connection with Ghopal. hinted at himself, without definitely linking him with either crime. "Curse It all. what did Ghopal mean by stealing in a home where he was a. guest, if he had to steal? , . . These Hindus , . . what did he mean by stealing, anyway? anywhere? . . . Ills jewel, indeed: Caught red banded, nnd atill maintains that the emerald is Ills? . . . and what the deuce did he do with the ling. . And the mur der.Did he murder, too? I don't see how . . . and yet ... lie gut into that safe, somehow. . . . Hut I was with him every minute on Thanks giving morning.” Three times in the long Sabbatical boredom of the day before, when there had been no developments, as the pa pers called them—as if both murder ers and detectives were enjoying n day of rest—chalfonte had persuaded Hardy to call headquarters for him, requesting permission to visit Ghopal After a final and positive and rather nasty refusal, Hardy had declined to call again. "I’m sorry, Mr. Chal fonte,'’ he said, "but there's nothing doing. I guess they're showing votir friend the goldfish, all right, like they said they would.” " Showing him the goldfish?’ " Chalfonte queried. "Yeh—making him talk a little. Persuading him. When they're do ing that, you can bet they don't want you around. You see. they'll want to connect him with the murder some how. and they haven't got any too much to do on. I'd like to help you, hut there's none of you that's too clear, and 1 can't let you leave with out putting you under arrest," Again Chalfonte knocked the glow ing tobacco from his pipe into the fii-c place, and without knowing what he had done, filled the pipe again. Here it was Monday afternoon, and still no word from Ghopal. Then he raised his head to look quickly at the door. Hardy stood there smiling. "All right, Mr. Chalfonte. Get your hat and coat. We'll he going down now. .lust got a message from head quarters to bring you down. So—not under arrest. Want you down there to Interpret ytiui Hindu pai s gibber ish. N’ot that he's tnlked much, or any. except when they first took him down. And Smith, the district attor ney, who's laklng the case in hand now, thinks maybe you can get him to open up. Ready to go?" "Almost—Soaines, my coat and hat, and take this pipe to my room, and bring me a half dozen cigars out of the box on the window sill. . . . I'll tell Miss Minty where I'm going so that they won’t get any fool notions Into tlielr heads." Once outside, they found the wind was cold, but the invisible sun, for the first time In a week, in a wide portion of tlie heavens was lighting the hazy clouds to a silver flame There was a bracing friendliness about the earth which he had sadly missed in tlie past few day's, Chalfonte real ized. And he was going to see Gho pal—there was some satisfaction in that. In an hour they were approaching the gray stone hulk of the county courthouse, winding their way through the stream of traffic. Inside the first room of the district attorney’s office they waited a long ten minutes. Several fluffy-haired stenographers, seeming strangely out of plate to Chalfonte, typed more or less busily between itowdeilngs of tin nose and casual glances at tils tall, weather-beaten form. Slowly the minutes passed. . . , Then a door marked “Private" opened and Smith, tlie district attorney, canto out a slight, fair halted man, erect and youthful at forty-five. Burke was with him. "’•It Chalfonte. r take It." Smith extended his hand. "All right, we re ready." I-Caving t Its oflh es, they crossed to that part of tlie building which com prised the county Jail. Pausing. Smith turned to Chalfonte and ex plained: Here’s tlie dope, Chalfonte. Thin Hindu won’t talk, lie's like a dam. Also, lie’s gone on a hunger strike. tVe'ye done about nil we I-how. but we're no farther ahead Ilian we were Saturday. The Sphinx hasn't anything on Ulmiml Boee You soil of have to Ivand II to him. too. II lakes stuff to do what he's done 'to l|« tentlnuvit biuiuuvn.i Bozo Butts--They Drive Him Nuts. -V a HAw ovjJes ne ^ $ 12 AMt> u)R>rre.s- \ Me AM iMSULTlMS f LETTER ^AYlMG L Me VMoM’t pay it I’LL GET A LA\A,vOER i / ^OUU, TAP FACT S 7 MOUJ, AG'AIW, ACCoRMaJo THAT tAG Reposes TO ARrtCUF SI*, PAfe TO PAY MAkES IT ' AGRAPH THIRTT-oME, \ieces>SARY~ to issue , PAGE^^s't OF-rue A VAJFirr OP HABEAS PEMAL CobE,YoO / Corpus to PlAce ARe AfesotoTetY' l_ tbEFCWlVXMT \ Ipso PROFUMbUS' I AJ STATU QOO - *0 6OL0WEY MA/ObAMUS‘ By Rube God I berg ( \ 'ajaatt to sex3b> ^ \ A “TELEGRAM TO \ / A MAM APOLOGIZING / i FOR ASKIMG HIM -4^ ' YD PAY MG BACK J - OVjvJE S --^Lom'T . me r—A <3rr many -MUTS LIKE >pA You iaj ^ Ue*e ReAt> this 1 Gam’t^ COMTE ACT- LIMtfeP '-5 PET?- ATAMb A PECTt-T WORb OF LEGAL NT-IT1^ A < BoLoAJEY • I_ THE NEBBS . APPLE SAUCE. 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