MURDER Bv An
ARISTOCRAT
Mignon
G.
Eberbart
Adela looked troubled. I
suppose it did not seem fit
ting—the doctor shouting in
that hushed room above the
dead body. It was indecorous.
She said gently:
“Let me ask her, Daniel.
She understands me. Emme
line, how did you happen to
find him? Tell us about it."
“I’d been in the summer
kitchen all afternoon," said
the woman. "I’d been mak
ing grape jelly. I wasn't sure
the last batch was ready to
Jell, and I brought some in
on a silver spoon to sec what
you thought. I knew you’d be
back from the Benevolent So
ciety by that time. I looked in
here as I went past, and I
saw him and looked. There
he was—all shot to pieces. I
ran out on the porch. And
there you were. See, I dropped
the spoon there.”
I suppose all of us looked
at the slender silver spoon on
the floor near the table, up
side down with a little sticky
pool of purple under it.
“Did you see anybody dur
ing the afternoon? Did any
body enter the house by the
back way?”
“Nary a soul all afternoon.
Nobody but Hlgby was near
all afternoon.
“Then the thief didn’t come
that way,’’ said Hilary. “Em
meline’s got eyes like a cat.
She never misses anything.’'
“What time was It, Emme
line?” asked Adela. and as
Emmeline hesitated she re
peated, “Time—what time was
It?”
“Just after five. I had Just
looked at the clock and
thought that Florrie ought to
be getting back to help with
dinner. She knew I was busy
with Jelly,” added Emmeline
resentfully.
“Oh, yes,” said Adela to Dr.
Bouligny. “I forgot Florrie.
But it’s her afternoon out."
“Can’t you tell exactly what
time he died, Dan?" asked
Hilary. “I thought you doc
tors could come pretty close
to it in such cases.”
“Not as close as that,” said
Dr. Bouligny with honesty.
“We can tell within a few
hours. But today I only know
that he’s not been dead more
than a few hours at most, and
I can’t limit the time by the
condition of the body. The
heat, you see. has kept the
body at near its normal heat
and has prevented—”
“Hush, Daniel!” It was
Adela. “Don’t ask such things,
Hilary. It’s enough if Daniel
says so, without going fur
ther into the matter. Daniel
knows. Now. what else is apt
to be covered at the inquest?
You know where we all were.
What we were doing. Who
found the body. The thief
must have shot Bayard with
—with his own revolver and
fled. It’s all perfectly clear.
We all know exactly what
happened. There’s only the
family here, and Emmeline,
who is one of us. We all know
why it is—’’ She stopped
abruptly. She was looking at
me as if she’d forgotten my
existence until that very mo
ment.
Everyone was looking at me.
It was very still. Gradually
I became aware of the mean
ing back of that combined
look. It was as if they, all of
them, stood definitely opposed
to me. It was a look of sus
picion, of doubt, of apprehen
sion—it was faintly inimical
and tinged with defiance, and
all these meanings were veiled
in polite, cold stillness. I was
the outsider. I was the strang
er within the walls. Did I
threaten them?
The silence was vastly un
comfortable. I said:
“I was about to say, Miss
Thatcher, that since my pa
tient—no longer needs me, I
shall return at once to the
hospital. Is there anything
you want me to do before I
leave, Dr. Bouligny?”
“Eh? Oh—no. No. Nothing.
Nothing at all.”
“Very well, then. I’ll go at
, ortce,”
“Oh, yes. Yes, of course.
Yes, certainly. Miss Keate.
Miss Thatcher will mail you
your check.”
“No. Wait, please, Miss
Keate,” said Adela suddenly.
“Won't you stay on with me
a few days? This—has been a
great shock to me. I should
be so grateful for your help.
We have liked you very much,
haven’t we, Janice?—Evelyn?
It will be a great favor, really,
if you find you can stay with
me for a few days. There will
be so much to see to—such a
strain—I am not in the best
of health. Daniel—”
“Certainly, Adela. By all !
means.” Dr. Bouligny an- :
swered the half command, |
half appeal, in her voice very
promptly. "Certainly. Miss
Thatcher is not at all well,
Miss Keate. She will need
someone like you for a few
days. It would be so much
j better to have you who al
ready—er—know the circum
; stances. That is—well, won’t
you stay on?”
In the end I consented, of
course, though I did so re
luctantly. I felt, too, some
what vague as to my pros
pective duties. Only one thing
i was clear to me and that was
that they wanted me there. !
In the house.
And I did not dream how
desperately I was to regret
that decision.
“Now then, Hilary,” said
Dr. Bouligny. “You’d better
call the sheriff. It’s been al- i
1 most an hour since-”
“Sheriff! What’s wrong? ;
! What’s that about the sher- i
iff? What-” Allen Carlck |
i came rapidly in from the hall, i
Tall, lean, brown, his shirt
1 sleeves rolled up, his collar
; open, his bright hair wavy
and wet as if he’d been swim- j
mlng, his dark blue eyes re
markably like Evelyn’s as he
looked swiftly around the
group. Dave Thatcher fol
lowed him closely, and it was
Dave who first saw the hud
dle under the scarf and
lunged forward with an in
j coherent cry and jerked the
scarf back before Hilary
! could stop him.
For a moment he stood
there looking; his face be
came ghastly pale, the hand
with which he held the scarf
began to tremble. Then he let
it fall and dropped into a
chair and covered his face
with his hands.
He said nothing, but Adela
I was at his side at once, touch
! ing him, talking to him, send
ing Emmeline for wine, and
Hilary was beside him too,
telling him over and over that
there’d been a robbery, and
the burglar had shot Bay
ard, repeating his words as
: if to impress them indelibly
upon Dave's consciousness.
From the study I could hear
the doctor’s heavy voice tele
phoning and was subcon
sciously aware he was calling
the sheriff. During the little
hubbub I happened to be
standing quite near Janice,
and I remember Allen Carick
stood there, too, and he said
in a low voice: “Is that true?
Is that what happened?” And
I saw the helpless way she
; turned to him and heard her
1 reply: “I don’t know. I don’t
know. Allen, what should I
do?”
“Don’t worry. Don't worry,”
he said, something in his eyes
as he looked down at her
which I was to remember
later. “Dave was fishing with
me, remember.”
Evelyn touched him on the
arm. Her competent brown
hand rested there as she
spoke.
“The sheriff will be along
I presently, Janice. I think we
ought to get Adela to her
room. She can*t stand much
more of this. Dr. Dan had
better call Frank Whiting and
have him take care of the
body; he’ll conduct the fu
neral, 1 suppose. I'll tell Em
meline to go ahead with din
ner. After all, we have to eat.”
“Evelyn,” said Hilary from
the group by the table, “Dan
wants to know if you talked
to Bayard when you stopped
this afternoon.”
I think only I saw that firm
brown hand tighten slowly on
Allen’s arm. Perhaps he felt
it.
“No,” said Evelyn steadily.
“I didn’t talk to him. He didn't
see me. I just looked into the
library, saw Hilary wasn’t
with him, and left.”
“Was Bayard alone, Eve
lyn?” asked Dr. Bouligny.
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand hovr—”
Dr. Bouligny interrupted him
self and said, “Where were
you ail this time, Miss Keate?”
“On the lawn,” I could not
resist adding, “In full view of
the house.”
“Did you see anyone enter
the house?”
“Only Mr. Thatcher and
Mrs. Thatcher. No one else. If
there was a thief, I didn't see
him, and I could see all the
front and east side of the
house.”
Dr. Bouligny was looking
thoughtfully at me.
“But—why, you must have
heard the shot, Miss Keate.
All the windows were open,
and It was a quiet afternoon.”
“No,” I said slowly, “I heard
nothing1.” I had not thought
of the fact until his question,
and it was with some per
plexity that I considered it
for a moment while they
waited. Even Dave dropped
his hands to hear the better
what I was going to say. “No,”
I repeated honestly, “I did not
hear the sound of the shot. I
can’t understand it. It was
quiet this afternoon. I heard
the front door bang, and from
inside the house I heard the
telephone ring. I think Bay
ard must have answered it,
for no one else was in the
house—I had left him up
stairs in his own room, but
“He must have come down,”
interrupted Hilary. “I won
der who talked to him.”
“Oh, I called him,” said
Miss Adela. "I stopped on my
way to the Benevolent Society
and telephoned from the drug
store. I’d forgotten to tell Em
meline that there would be
two extra for dinner—you and
Evelyn, you know, Hilary—I
knew Emmeline wouldn’t hear
the telephone, but I thought
perhaps Miss Keate would re
ply. But Bayard was down
here. He must have been near
the telephone.”
“I wonder what he was do
ing down here,” said Hilary
absently and was about to say
more, I think, when there was
a long peal at the door bell.
“That’s the sheriff,” said
Dr. Bouligny. “Well, there’s
one thing. You’ve all got
alibis.”
“Why, no, not all,” said
Evelyn. “I don’t se?m to have,
and I’m the one who saw him
last. But I assure you I didn’t
—” She tried to say, “Shoot
him,” I suppose, but she
looked at the huddle under
the scarf and choked.
Allen put his arm around
her protectingly, and Hilary
cried, “Don’t be a perfect
idiot, Evelyn, we all know you
didn’t kill him,” and Emme
line appeared at the doorway
with the sheriff. Hilary and
the doctor and the sheriff all
began to talk at once, and
Evelyn and Janice were urg
ing Adela toward the door. It
was a good time, I thought
to myself, to telephone to the
hospital for the extra uni
forms I would need. I had
expected to be on the case
only a day or so, and had
made my preparations accord
ingly.
I turned toward the little
study at the end of the li
brary. The town boasted auto
i matic telephones, and I had
some difficulty in dialing and
j more difficulty in making the
superintendent under stand
j what I wanted. It was very
quiet in the little room with
I the door to the library closed;
i quiet and tranquil. Impossible
to believe that in the next
room lay a murdered man.
dead on the rug, his eyes
closed, his hands—Wait! His
eyes closed!
His eyes closed —but the
eyes of the dead do not close
voluntarily. Someone must
close them.
“Hello, hello!” shrilled a
voice in my ear.
I gave my message some
what incoherently and put
| down the telephone. Full of
my discovery, I rose, and in
the very act of rising my cap
slid off of my head and I
made another discovery which
was almost to push the first
from my mind.
I bent to pick up my cap
and the pin which had slipped
out from it. The cap had fal
len on the rug—a handsome
affair all in deep red with a
touch of blue and gold: I be
lieve it was called a Sarouk.
Strange that it was damp.
That the one spot where my
cap had fallen was wet to my
touch.
I pushed my fingers down
against the silky nap and
brought them away again.
There was blood on the rug.
It had soaked into the thick
nap.
But it was the wrong rug.
CHAPTER V
That, tragic figure lay on a
rug ih the librarj. If he’d
been shot here, in the little
study, he couldn’t possibly
have got to the library rug
before he fell. I knew that he
had died at once. Why, then,
was there blood on the Sa
rouk? And why were his eyes
closed? There wasn’t any
niche for either fact in the
story as I had heard it; no
conceivable relation to the
sequence of events as they’d
been rehearsed by the
Thatchers and Dr. Bouligny.
Yet there was blood on that
rug.
The opening of the door and
a strange voice—that of the
sheriff, I found — saying,
“Well, let’s have a look at the
safe,” aroused me. Dr. Bou
ligny. Hilary, and the sheriff
crowded into the small room
and around the safe. The
sheriff bent to examine it with
what seemed to me a rather
exaggerated air of profes
sionalism, and I walked quiet
ly bUck of them and into the
library.
My footsteps on the rug
were Inaudible. Allen Carick
did not look up until I stopped
abruptly, and he became
aware of my presence. He, the
only one left in the room with
the dead body, was kneeling
beside it, going rapidly—fev
erishly, in fact—through the
pockets of the dressing gown
and trousers. And the curious
thing about it was that even
when he felt my astounded
gaze and looked up at me he
did not stop his search. He
only gave me an abstracted
ly annoyed glance and shot j
a quick look at the door to
the study and shifted the
weight of the body a little so ,
he could reach another pock
et. Then, frowning and
breathing rather quickly, he
got to his feet, gave me an
other annoyed look, as if he
didn’t like my witnessing his
occupation but was too en
grossed with far more urgent
anxieties to do anything
about it. walked swiftly to
the door into the hall, and
disappeared. _
iTO BE CONTINUED)
DO YOU AGREE?
The Victor Dog, all tricked out now,
Comes now upon the stage;
In radio ads he broadcasts o’er
The advertising page.
Gone Is the old time Victor horn,
For lo; the little tike
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—Sam Page.
Germ, Not Gem.
From Sydney Bulletin.
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Harrisburg, Pa. — (UP) — The
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90 Foot Underground
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Decorah. Iowa — (UP) — A 90
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----
Heading Him Off.
Prom Lustige Kolner Zeitung.
"Jones is a rotten sort of chap.
I asked him to lend me five dol
lare for a few days and he abso
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"My dear man. this club's full
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l them."
--
The fiist bale of cotton exported
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| was shipped from Charleston. S. C.,
iin m- ---—
Preacher Finds “Magic”’
Aids in Church Work
A clergyman who employs umgic
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discovered at Philadelphia in Rev.
Dr. John C. Bieri, pastor of the Col
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Magic Is more than a hobby with
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While the pastors object lessons
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