MURDER Bv An 1 Mis"°" 1
ARISTOCRAT _ Eberhart |i
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Tm all right,” said Florrie
tather weakly. "Miss Evelyn
told me all about what hap
Ged. I don’t suppose any
y meant to give me the
wrong stuff.” She glanced at
me rather doubtfully but con
tinued: "Miss Evelyn said I
•wed my life to the nurse. I
■oppose I do. But I ought to
Bare known not to take the
pills. A red-haired woman and
the moon at its full and some
thing out of a-”
Adeia thought she was still
•niy half-conscious. She bent
•rcr the bed.
' “There now, Florrie. Try to
gel some rest and natural
deep. Dr. Bouligny says you
are going to be all right. Isn’t
it fine that Miss Keate was
here and knew just what to do
lor you?”
florrie looked at me again;
It was a curious look in which
suspicion and gratitude were
•ddiy blended.
“Oh, yes," she said. "But I
•light to have known better
•han to take them. But I
guess she didn’t mean to do
U”
“Why, of course she didn’t
mean to do it. It was a very
terrible accident, but you are
going to be all right now. Miss
Keate will stay here and take
•are of you and-”
“I think I’d be better off
alone, ma’am, if you don’t
mind.”
“Alone! Oh, no, Florrie, Dr.
Bouligny says It’s best for
Miss Keate to stay with you,
and I think she’s very kind
to do It.”
“Yes,” muttered Florrie.
•But there’s a full moon to
night.”
Adeia looked perplexed.
“Florrie, you aren’t your
self yet. But don’t worry:
You’ll be all right if you do
Just as the doctor says. Will
you be comfortable, Miss
Keate? Is there anything you
need? I can’t tell you how
grateful we are to you. If»you
hadn’t, been here last night
-** Her face was hard all at
once, touched with granite.
She wont on: “Don't hesitate
to ask Emmeline to help you
or get anything you v!ant.
Good night.”
Her silk skirts swished deli
cately on the stairs. Florrie
alghed.
“I don't think you really
meant to give me those tab
lets. Miss Keate," she said
forgivingly. “You’ve been aw
ful good to me today. I guess
you didn’t mean to. Miss
Evelyn said I’d have died sure
If you hadn’t known what to
do for me.”
I could see no good purpose
In telling Florrie anything of
the mystery of the veronal
tablets. I said:
“That’s good. Now I’ll just
fluff up your pillows, and you
try to sleep.”
“Say, Miss Keate, did they
have the funeral today?”
“Yes.”
• “Was it a big one?"
1 don’t know; there were
lots of flowers.”
“There would be. Likely the
whole town was here. Say,
Miss Keate, have they caught
the burglar yet?”
“No.”
’ She brooded on that for
some time. Then she said with
a slow sort of smile:
“They won’t catch him,
cither. Those diamonds—” she
laughed outright—“those dia
monds. Say. Miss Keate, no
body stole those diamonds. I
know exactly where they
are.”
. v CHAPTER XII
After a moment I realized
that I had known it all along;
had known there was some
thing faulty, something too
pat. about the missing dia
monds; had known there was
something conspiratorial
about that supposed theft of
which so much had been
made But with my own eyes
I had seen Adela open that
safe and discover the loss of
the jewels. Who, then, had ar
I
ranged their disappearance
at so apt a moment?
“Where? How do you know?
Why didn’t you tell?”
It was difficult to persuade
Florrie to talk.
“The only way to be safe in
this house is to mind your
own business,” she said.
It was only when I com
bined a delicate threat to tell
Miss Thatcher with a sort of
provisional promise to keep
what she had told me a se
cret unless I found it abso
lutely necessary to tell it that
she resumed her communica
tive mood.
The diamonds, she said,
were in the tall Jar of green
bath salts in the bathroom
adjoining Janice’s bedroom.
She had seen them there the
morning following Bayard’s
murder. She had been clean
ing the room rather hurried
ly, and had picked up the Jar
to wipe the shelf under it and s
had caught the glimmer of
one of the Jewels which had
somehow slipped through the
concealing layers of crystals
and next the glass. She had
explored then and there, and
while she didn’t remember
exactly the entire collection
of diamonds, she thought they
were all there. Or most of
them.
“It was a good place to
hide them,” she said rumln
atlvely. “The bath salts are
sort of shiny; it was Just the
light catching one of the dia
monds that made me look, j
But I didn’t say anything to
anybody. I wanted to keep
out of it. And I knew they
were safe there because Miss
Janice hates bath salts and
never uses them. She says she
just keeps the Jar there for
the color scheme. Did you
ever see her bathroom. Miss
Keate? She’s got water lilies |
painted all around the walls. |
And little green frogs. Hea
thenish, I say.”
"Are they still there?
“Oh, sure. They’re painted.”
“The diamonds, I mean.”
She looked evasive.
“The last time I looked they
were,” she said. “Say, Nurse,
do you suppose Miss Janice
managed so I got those tab
lets—veronal? is that what
you call them?
“I don’t know how it hap
pened, Florrie. Why did you
think she might have—man
aged it?”
“She don’t like me,” said
Florrie, still evasive. “She
threatened me Just yester
day.”
“Threatened you!”
“Well, she said I’d regret
something I did. And I got
those tablets right afterward
and nearly died.”
I suppressed a smile at the
thought of the salutary ef
fect of Janice’s rebuke. What
ever Florrie’s conclusion re
garding the veronal tablets
came to be, I thought it high
ly unlikely she would ever do j
any more prowling among
Janice’s things. Then anoth
er thought struck me:
“Florrie, think now and an
swer carefully. Did you leave
that box of tablets anywhere
in the house before you took
them? Did you put it down
on a table? Or anywhere? Was
the box out of your posses
sion even for a moment?”
“No,” said Florrie at once.
“I'm sure of that, Miss Keate.
I took the box from you and
came straight up here to my
room and took the first two
tablets before I even un
dressed. Then my head was no
better, so I kept on taking
them.”
“How many did you take
altogether?” I asked, and
when she told me I shud
dered.
“But didn’t you see they
were not aspirin? They are
much larger, for one thing.”
“Why, no,” she said. “Com
ing from a hospital, I expected
i them to be a little different
from regular aspirin. Hospi
tals are such queer places. Do
you know what people are
saying about who killed Bay
ard?"
“No. You’d better go to
sleep, Florrie.”
“I don’t know either. But
they’ll say Hilary killed him.
You see if I’m not right. Hil
ary and Bayard never liked
each other.”
“Florrie, do you know any
thing about a Nita Thatcher?
Have you ever heard any of
the family mention Nita’s
grave?”
“No," she said after a
thoughtful momept. “There’s
a grave up at tse Thatcher
cemetery marked Nita That
cher, but I never heard any
thing about it. The Thatch
ers are funny about that
cemetery,” she went on, pon
dering. “Dave is always going
up there. And Miss Adela. And
even Bayard used to go up
there once in awhile.”
“Was she—Nita—any con
nection to Bayard?”
Florrie wrinkled her color
less eyebrows.
“I don’t know, Miss Keate,
but I don’t think so. I never
heard anything at all about
her. And if there’d been any
thing,” added Florrie not at
all enigmatically, “I’d have
known it.”
I very nearly said, “You and
everybody in C-.”
For three whole days I
nursed Florrie. They were to
all outward aspects quiet
days, chiefly characterized by
a determined and outwardly
successful effort on the part
of the Thatchers to ignore
the matter of Bayard’s dread
ful death and to present an
unruffled countenance to the
world. The only visible evi
dences that things were not
as they appeared lay in the
fact that Hilary and Evelyn
stayed on, instead of return
ing to their own household,
and that instead of getting a
new housemaid during Flor
ae's illness, Janice and Evelyn
between them took over her
duties. This was, I had no
doubt, to prevent letting a
girl from town into the house
and its intimate workings, a
girl who would talk, would
relate every scrap of gossip
she could garner to all too
willing ears. I knew that, so
far, they had managed to keep
Florrle’s illness a secret, al
though once Adela went to
see Florrie’s mother, and I
suppose she told her of it. I
never knew what measures
she took to insure the wom
an’s silence.
Almost frantically tney re
sumed that orderly daily rou
tine and clung to it as a man
may cling to a straw to save
himself from drowning. Dur
ing those days I saw them to
gether mostly at meals when
they were bland, gracious,
preoccupied with the house
keeping and gardens and af
fairs of the town. At the same
time I could hardly help
knowing in a general way
what went on in the house.
Once I ventured into Bay
ard’s room and found it prim
and orderly with drawn
shades and Bayard’s posses
sions—for I looked to make
sure—removed and I suppose
packed away. I wondered
fleetingly what had become
of the gin.
Bayard was never men
tioned. fevery so often Strove
would come to the house and
talk apologetically of the dia
monds and the burglar, and
I wonder anew just where my
duty lay concerning those
diamonds—and more urgent
ly concerning my accumulat
ing evidence that Bayard
Thatcher had been murdered
not by a marauding burglar
but by one of his own family.
If the county authorities
chose to ignore it, as they
did, to whom ought I to ap
peal? Or ought I to appeal at
all? I think I had some faint
notion that if any stranger
actually was made a victim
of, and the thing came to his
arrest, I should step forward
with what I knew. But in my
heart I felt, I am sure, that it
would not. come to that. That
things would somehow work
out. For a feeling of some
thing impending was every
where: In the air we breathed
and the food we ate and in
our eyes meeting and glanc
ing quickly away.
A climax was coming. We
all knew it. It was in Janice’s
set white face as she went
about the cool, polished
spaces of the house doing
Florrie’s dusting, or working
in her garden and later ap
pearing fresh and beautiful at
the dinner table, ready to
take her role in that tragi
comedy of manners that went
on every night—avoiding me
and avoiding Allen, her dark
eyes somber above quiet lips.
It was in Adela’s bleak eyes
and her blunt white fingers
as they worked ceaselessly
with her long turquoise beads
or with the flat silver beside
her plate, and in her bland
observations which saved* us
so frequently from a conver
sational trap and which yet
were apt to break off in the
middle as if she’d completely
forgotten what she had been
saying.
Even Emmeline grew ner
vous; she twisted her fingers
constantly and took to hav
ing neuralgia and wafting a
smell of vehement winter
green salve which did not add
to our combined peace of
mind.
Allen Carick looked taut
and spent, as if he’d been
sleeping badly. And Evelyn de
cided to have the boys kept
on at camp for a while after
the summer session was over.
“It’s as well not to let them
come home just now,” she
said, and later I heard her
sending a carefully worded
telegram over the telephone
to the head of the school.
I grew restless under that
prevailing sense of strain and
expectation, under the goad
ing pressure of my many un
answered questions and un
proved theories, and—more
definitely— that unrelenting
chaperonage. Every one of
those three days I left the
house for a time, and never,
after Sunday, alone. Evelyn
volunteered once to go for a
walk with me, and I could
scarcely refuse. Another time
Hilary turned up about four
with the sedan and took
Adela and me for a long and
silent country ride—reluct
antly, I think, and with a
very red neck, wnicn was an
I qould see of him from the
tonneau. And another time,
by leaving from the back
door, I got away from the
house unobserved, only to
meet Allen a quarter of a mile
away, rather breathless, as
if he’d run across country.
He stuck to me like a burr,
but was lost in his own not
too pleasant thoughts, for
he tramped along steadily
with his hands in his pockets
and his blue eyes frowning at
the path, and only spoke twice
during the whole walk, which
I somewhat unkindly pro
longed, taking him through
some thickets where there
were opening milkweed pods
whose soft silks clung stub
bornly to his trousers and re
sisted his savage efforts to
brush-them off. He swore a
little under his breath and
brushed and brushed with his
hands and looked up at me
and surprisingly laughed. He
was very nice when he
laughed: His sullen frown
gave place to a sort of bright
blue twinkle, and he had a
direct and very charming way
of smiling exactly into your
eyes.
“You win, Nurse,” he said,
admitting his espionage al
most in words. But he stayed
with me until he saw me
safe and incomunicado, so to
speak, inside the door of the
Thatcher house.
The whole thing was an
admission. I suppose, that
something was to come. That
there must be some change,
some development, some cli
max of those hidden forces.
But I think none of us guessed
the dreadful turn that de
velopment was to take.
My nerves were on edge,
and I slept poorly at night.
There were times when I sus
pected every member of that
family of having murdered
Bayard.
(TO BE CONTINUED!
Pine Beetles Killed
Many Trees, Experts Say
Stissculc. Mont. — »UP> — Pine
IfceUes have killed millions of trees
Mi Uu* Beaverhead and Bitter Root
National forests lately, foreatry «
jate report
Billions of feet of lodgepcle pine
and yellow pine are endangered by
ih> inserts, which bote through
|Im> bark of the '.rets and thus kill
thro)
Montana forestry experts were
gauslderUie a wide-spicad ram
palgn against the beetles, adopt- |
ing methods used in Oregon to
kill the insects. By cutting down
the tree, and subjecting tt to a
slight electric current the beetles
may be killed raptdly and at a small
cost. It was said.
— ■- ++. ■!— ... I. ,
Bicyclist in Knee
Pants Ordered Away
El Paso Tex. — (UPi — Little
lord Fauntleroy pants may be
quite chic for gentlemen of
Europe, but bare knees exposed
I by Eiis Mslpas. 34. Australian
cyclist on a world tour, brought
an order from a police captain
nete to be on his way and not bt
seen on the streets.
The officer feared for the safety
of the youth in the West Texas
country that is Just becoming ac
customed to men in knickers.
Maipas went on his wsy riding
his 33-year-old bicycle.
— —.—.
Barter and Trade
Businesa Reached Peak
Minden. Nev — <UP>— Barter and
trade reached Its peak hers when
L. Falette traded a truck load cf
onions (or a similar amount of
California oranges.
Local markets are glutted with
onions with slow sale. while
oranges are In demand at $1.53
per box. On the other hand Nev
ado onions are In demand at Lot
Angeles market*.
-
One After Eating.
F^om The Humorist.
Tramp- The lady next door gave
me a p eer of ome-made cake
Won't you give me something, too?
Lady (spitefully); Yes. I'd brttef
give you a digestive tablet.
OF INTEREST TO FARMERS J
I EMERGENCY HAY CROPS
I Field peas and grain provide a
good quality hay in the cooler sec
j tions. Care must be exercised to
, secure good, viable seed as diffi
culty has been experienced with this
, recently. The usual planting rate
is Hi buhels each of peas and me
dium maturing oats. On light soils
the Scotch pea may prove out bet
ter than the common Canadian.
An improved variety of the common
yellow pea, known as the Multi
plier. is popular on the heavier
soils. The mixture can be harvested
when the oats are in the milk
stage or not later than when the
lower, part of the plant shows signs
of ripening. Oats, barley, or wheat
will make fair yields of good hay
when at early blossom or milk
stage. Cutting the grain nurse crop
for hay not only will supply some
roughage that may be quite as
valuable as the threshed grain, but
it also insures a better stand of
alfalfa or clover. In addition, a fair
crop of ligume hay may De secured
in favorable seasons. Ten to 15 lbs.
of scarified sweet clover may be
seeded alone in early spring and a
fair hay crop secured in late sum
mer. Also medium red clover or a
mixture of 6 lbs. timothy, 4 lbs,
medium red clover and 2 lbs. alsike
may be seeded in lige manner,
hen sown without a nurse crop and
in a favorable season, a ton or
more of legume hay will be secured
in late summer, with a field that
should go through the winter In
good shape. Some farmers use a
nurse crop, cut it for hay, r J state
they also have a good crop of the
legume hay the same year. Winter
vetch, also known as sand and hairy
vetch, is best when seeded with
grain as it has a recliningg habit
and it cannot be relied upon to
give a sure crop in the cooler cli
mates. Combinations of lti to 2
bushels of oats or of H4 bushels
of wheat or rye with 25 to 30 lbs.
of vetch are suggested. Fall rye
and vetch, seeded not later than
late August or early September, is
advised as a light soil crop. Timo
thy meadows and thin alfalfa or
clover will produce better yields if
given a top-dressing of manure dur
ing the winter or early spring. Ni
trate fertilizer is now comparatively
low in cost and its use will not only
Increase the tonnage of timothy,
but will also add materially to its
protein content. Some even contend
that it is possible to secure protein
from nitrogen fertilized timothy
quite as cheaply as from clover
and alfalfa. For instance, a trial
in a certain locality was recently
conducted in which 250 lbs. of ni
trogen fertilizer were applied per
acre to a portion of a timothey
field. The hay from the treated
portion of the field contained 194
I lbs. more protein per acre than the
I hay from the untreated portion
After harvesting the first crop of
hay, the field may be plowed and
planted to sudan, millet, or corn
for additional roughage. Cowpeas are
an important emergency hay in the
South. They should be seeded much
the same as soybeans. If sown alone
on clean land it may be broadcast
at the rate of one to two bushels
per acre. If sown in 3-foot drills, 20
lbs. of seed will be sufficient. Seed
ing should be delayed until ground
is warm, say a week or two after
corn planting. They are normally
cut for hay when the first pods
ripen and because of the succulent
stems care must be exercised in
curing. They may be handled in
small cocks much as are soybeans,
or large cocks with a sort of tri
pod shock supporter may be used
to hasten drying. Sudan gras is
best adapted to grazing, but will
make a good yield of palatable hay
if cut early before the heads get too
mature. It is relatively low in pro
tein and therefore is properly to be
considered as a secondary choice
to some earlier planted legume. In
favorable seasons It will yield a fair
crop of hay if planted in June after
taking off an early hay or pea crop.
In any event, it should not be
seeded until one or two weeks after
corn planting time as it is very
sensitive to cool soils and cool
weather. Two cuttings a year are
secured in favorabble seasons. Sudan
should be seeded at the rate of 25
to 35 lbs. per acre as the seed is
often of not too good germination.
The seed bed should be well pre
pared. with lumps broken up and
the soil well compacted. If soil and
weather are good, the seed may be
broadcast and harrowed in. Other
wise. drill in from one-half to one
inch deep to insure a catch if the
soil surface is dry. Corn planted
as late as July will provide good
fodder if properly handled, al
though June planting would be
preferable. It should be sown in
drills 42 inches apart, using 25 to 33
lbs. seed per acre. It makes little
difference what variety of corn is
used so long as the stalks are only
two to three feet apart In the row.
I Th:« gives a leafy forage with few
ears that gives excellent satisfac
tion in feeding. After planting, the
land can be harrowed once or twice
and will need little cultivation
after it gets two feet high. It
should be cut when the small ears
on the outer rows begin to glaze and
the lower leaves begin to turn yel
low and dry. Bind Into fair sized
QUALITY. NOT QUANTITY
An efficient dairy ration must
not only be ample in amount, but
must also contain sufficient protein
to balance the carbohydrates and
fat. bocauae production is lifted to
the amount of milk provided for
by the protein, no matter how plen
tiful the CArbohydratea may be.
These nutrient requlrefents have
been determined by (any well known
feeding triala and experiments a
dairy cow capable of high produc
tion could eat all the grass, hay.
and corn silage she could hold. wKh
a liberal amount of ground corn.
ba*}gy. and oats, and still not M
bundle and put in fair sized
shocks bound tightly at the top.
The one disadvantage is that it is
not practical to stack it or store it
in the barn because it contains so
much moisture. In feeding value
this corn fodder is nearly equal to
timothy hay, but because of its suc
culence it is better adapted to dairy
cows. It provides a leafy forage that
a learned professor years ago dem
onstrated had quite as high or
higher feeding value per acre as
corn grown in the usual manner.
The nutrients usually deposited in
the ear are largely retained in the
stalk. It is a satisfactory and pala
table feed for cows, horses, cattle,
and sheep.
THE CORN CROP
There are three important fac
tors to consider in connection with
the planting of corn. First, the prep
ration of the seed-bed; second,
selection of the seed ears and test
ing them for germination, and, third
the adjustment of the planter to
insure its dropping the right num
ber of kernels to the hill. It is just
as important to look after these de
tails this year as it was when com
was bringing a higher price. It is
true that we ought to grow less corn
in 1933 than we did last year. How
ever, this should not be accom
plished by planting the usual acre
age in a half-hearted sort of way,
but rather by growingg fewer acres
under the mo3t favorable condi
tions possible. It is much more sen
sible to exert every effort to ob
tain a maximum yield on a smaller
acreage than to plant seed of un
known germination on a poorly
prepared seed-bed, in the hope of
not getting a full crop. Let us put
forth the usual effort to get a high
yield, but so far as possible let us
substitute a legume crop on a por
tion of the acreage planted to corn
in former years. A well prepared
seed-bed is the first essential to ft
good yield of any crop, and com is
no exception to this gerenal rule.
Fall plowed land should be disked
as early as the ground can be
worked. This tends to warm up the
soil and to encourage the rapid
sprouting of weed seeds. The aim
should then be to kill as many
weed as possible before planting, by
means of disking and harrowing.
When the greund is to be plowed
in the spring, it is good practice to
disk before plowingg, to aid in the
conservation of soil moisture. After
plowing, a well tilled seed-bed
should be prepared with disk and
harrow. Assuming that the seed ears
were carefully selected in the field
in the mall, and were well dried be
* fore frost came, a test for germin
ation is all that need be given in
the spring. Light ears and ears with
discolored butts should be discarded.
The ragdoll method is commonly
used for germination tests. Taka
from six to eight kernels from each
ear and place them on a muslin
cloth, laid on top of a piece of
butcher’s paper. Mark the cloth off
into spaces and number the latter
corresponding to the ears to be
tested. A cloth 12 inches wide by
52 inches long will provide spaca
enough for eight kernels from each ‘
of 30 ears. When kernels from 30
ears have been placed on the cloth,
roll paper and cloth into a roll, or
a ragdoll, as it is called. Place
these “dolls” in lukewarm water for
about two hours, then drain, and
set them on end in a pail lined
with burlap. Place the pail in s
warm room for seven to ten days,
sprinkling the “dolls” from day to
day with warm water, so as to keep
them moist. When the kernels have
sprouted and the sprouts are from
two to four inches long, unroll the
“doll” and note the character of
the sprouts from each kernel. Dis
card all seed ears that show one
or two kernels with weak sprouts.
Kernels showing weak sprouts are
as unsuitable for seeed as those
that do not sprout at all. Rigid
selection should be adhered to, be
cause kernels that show weak
sprouts in the rag-doll test, where
ideal conditions for sprouting are
maintained, are likely not to ger
minate at all out in the field, where
less favorable conditions may pre
vau. wnen seea corn is imectea
with spores of the dry rot fungi,
molds will b3 noticed on the sprouts
as revealed by the rag-doll test.
Thus this test may also be used to
eliminate seed ears infected with
dry rot fungi. However, a better
way to eliminate these diseases con
sists in treating the seed with one
of the well known mercury dusts.
Mix one bushel of corn with two
ounces of the fungicide in a barrel
churn, revolved slowly so as to in
sure covering every kernel with the
dust. Average untreated seed corn
usually produces from five to eight
bushels less corn per acre than
treated seed. It is a good plan to
make sure that the com planter
will steadily drop the same number
of kernels per hill, so as to insure
an even stand. Don't use an old
‘ planter that can not be depended
upon to do a good job in the field.
Uneven planting may cause a con
siderable reduction in yield, and
should not be tolerated.
PROVED TOO LATE
Too many good dairy bulls go to
the butcher; too many poor ones
stay on farms.
able to utilize her full capacity to
turn feed into milk, because she
would not have enough protein to
balance the carbohydrates in her
ration. Therefore, no matter how
liberal the quantity of her feed or
how rich it is In carbohydrates and
I fat. if it is lacking In this essen
| ttal factor, protein, bar production
and profit are limited Just as sure
i ly as if the rest of the feed were
I cut off down to the level of tba
low protein.
... ■ I— M — -
HAVE (TOOD EQUIPMENT
I Efficient farm Layouts mean tnora
I labor Income.