MURDER By An
ARISTOCRAT
Mignon
O.
Efcerhart
But Bayard had not been
found there on the rug in the
■ludy with the receiver off
the hook of the telephone
and the Instrument perhaps
near his hand. He had been ,
found in the library, sprawled
hideously on the floor. Janice
had moved him, Janice, her
■lender muscles pulling with
nil their strength, her white
hands reddened by their gris
ly task, had pulled that shat
tered body across the library
floor. And Evelyn had seen
Bayard dead in the study.
And, if my surmise was cor
net, Hilary, too, had been in
iDave’s study while Bayard
lay dead on the rug. Any of
them might have picked up
that telephone and replaced
It.
And the train or supposi
tion which I had built from
that tiny wad of paper might
be entirely wrong.
I sighed wearily and took
the paper In my fingers and
looked at it again and at
that very Instant heard a
rustle back of me.
I find I cannot adequately
describe my feelings as I sat
there in that small study, my
back to the dark door of the
cavernous library, and re
alized that someone stood In
that doorway watching me.
Had been watching me per
haps while I fitted that
damning piece of paper into
the telephone slot. Two men
had already come to their
deaths in that small room.
One death had been a mur
der. The other death had
been so nearly induced by
that sad and tragic train of
circumstances that in its
fundamentals it was murder,
too.
Deaths go in threes. Deaths
go in threes. It is an old su
perstition and an unreason
able one. But it has more than
a little element of truth in it.
I have seen it happen more
times in my nursing career
than I cared, at that moment,
to recall.
Who stood there behind
me? I could not turn. I could
not breathe.
Was it Adela, Hilary,
Evelyn, Janice? Might it be,
even, Allen? Or Emmeline?
It was strange that, though
I felt no fear of any one of
those people, at the same
time I felt a very definite and
terrifying fear of whoever it
was in the doorway. I suppose
that paralyzing feeling of ter
ror was owing to some sixth
sense; some deeply primitive
warning of danger.
Then there was another
sound of motion. And a voice
said: i. . „
“Don’t move. I’ll shoot.
It was Hilary’s voice. But
a Hilary I had not known be
fore.
Perhaps it Is unnecessary
to state that I did not move.
Indeed, I sat so still that the
Yery beating of my heart
seemed for the moment sus
pended. And it is as well that
I did so. For Hilary advanced
from behind me and stepped
Just in the circle of light cast
by the green-shaded desk
lamp, and I saw that he held
a revolver in his hand. And
his hand was not very steady.
And the revolver was aimed
directly at me.
His hair was disheveled, his
eyes red and bloodshot, his
face pale and puffy, and he
wore a dark dressing gown. I
never knew how long he had
watched me, nor how he had
happened to follow me to the
study. His voice, too. was un
natural; husky and threat
ening.
“What are you doing here,
when the whole household is
ESlGCp?”
I did not like the way his
nervous hands caressed the
revolver.
“Nothing,’* I said. “Noth
ing”
“Answer me! You had some
purpose here.”
Boy Scout Manual
Next Braille Book
Wa«hington —(UP)— Mrs. Nor
man B. Morrell. Knoxville, Tenn..
Red Cross worker who Is (umous
tor Ihe many Braille system books
•he has prepared, has announc 'd
that her next project will be mak
ing a Boy Bcout manual (n the
blind reading system. It was
learned at Red Cross headquarters
here.
Mr i Morrell started her work
with BralUe books several y-ara
aa» when she lost her own slant.
30
, The bit of folded paper
rolled from my numb fingers,
and his quick eyes caught It.
I decided rapidly on a half
truth.
“I found that piece of fold
ed paper here on the rug just
after Bayard’s death," I said
rather weakly. "I came to try
to discover whether or not it
was a clue to the murderer."
His eyes wavered. I felt
sure he had not seen the pa
per before and had no idea
as to Its possible significance.
‘‘And what did you dis
cover?" he asked in an un
pleasant way.
‘‘Nothin g.” And as X
thought he looked faintly un
decided as to whether or not
to believe me, I added nerv
ously, "Don’t you want to put
the revolver down? Is it
Dave’s gun?"
He glanced then at the re
volver, as If he had forgotten
he was holding it, and back
at me.
"I don’t believe you,” he
said. “But If you’ll keep quiet
I won’t shoot.”
As a matter of fact, I am
inclined to think I was rather
nearer an abrupt and com
plete end than is exactly
pleasant to recall, much less
experience, during those few
moments while Hilary’s un
steady fingers touched that
revolver. He did not, I am
sure, think that it would bet
ter conditions to dispose of
me in such a manner; he
couldn’t have meant cold
bloodedly to shoot; but he
was in a frame of mind not
to know exactly what he was
doing. Perhaps my rather ob
vious and certainly acute dis
comfort recalled him to him
self. He put down the re
volver, looked at it rather
strangely, said In an absent
way, ‘‘Yes, it’s Dave’s gun. It’s
the only one In the house,”
and then went on with an
abrupt change of tone:
‘‘Look here, Miss Keate. I
don’t know what you know of
tlxls affair of Bayard’s mur
der, or what you don’t know.
But I’m going to put my cards
flat on the table, face up. I’m
not by any means a rich man.
But I’ll give you $10,000 in
cash to leave this house to
morrow morning and forget
you’ve ever been here.”
.Afterward I was glad the
interruption came before I
could find my voice. Other
wise I would have said far too
much, and the revolver was
still conveniently near Hil
ary’s right hand. It was Ev
elyn who Interrupted: She
must have heard the whole
thing. She said crisply:
‘‘Hilary, you are a fool. Go
away. Take that revolver with
you.” And when he’d gone—
and somehow it was not an
lgnomlnous departure; there
were threat and menace in
the solid lines of his should
ers and his thick red neck—
she said to me, “Miss Keate, if
you have any kind and gen
erous womanly instincts you
will forget this—this extraor
dinary scene.” And then she
too was gone, and I could
hear her firm footsteps cross
ing the library.
Well, somehow I reached
my own room. Somehow I
spent the night, imagining
every whisper of sound I
heard was Hilary trying to
get into my room, with Dave’s
revolver, which Adela must
have given into his keeping,
in his unsteady pink hand. It
seemed to me that Evelyn
was asking rather too much
of womanly instincts.
After a night of restless
dreams and wakeful hours I
resolved to see the druggist
in the morning and get his
impression of Adela’s tele
phone conversation with Bay
ard. But if it was, as I thought
It might well be. a fiction on
Adela's part, then Hilary
could not have killed Bay
ard.
When morning came, how
Among the books she supervised
, since that time have been all
types, from text books to Carl
Akeley** "Africa.”
Republican Centenarian
Gives Rooaevelt Praise
Aberdeen. Wash. —(UP)— Al
though a teetotaler and a life
long Republican, Samuel Be mi,
founder of Aberdeen, celebrated
his lOljt birthday recently by
praising President Roosevelt and
.he repeal movement
"Rooaevelt is the man of the
ever, I did not Immediately
have an opportunity to leave
the house, and it soon de
veloped there was to be no
need lor the druggist’s testi
mony. Shortly after break
fast Adela summoned us into
the library again. She had
had only the night to survey
the situation, and that had
been spent for the most part
In drugged slumber. But like
any keen-sighted general, she
knew what her next move
would be; she knew that in
trying to extricate Dave she
had placed her other brother
under suspicion.
We were all there except
Dr. Boullgny; all of us tired
and hollow-eyed and ill at
ease. I think v/e all knew
something was coming. Her
first words, however, were
such as to shock us into
strained attention. For she
said calmly:
“The Thatchers appear to
have taken to lies. Evelyn did
not tell the truth when she
said she found Bayard alive.
Hilary did not tell the truth
when he said he found Bay
ard alive. And I did not tell
the truth.” She faltered a lit
tle there but resumed, her
blue eyes daring us to doubt,
her face gray and stern. “I
lied when I said I talked to
Bayard over the telephone. I
did not. He was dead before
I left the house.”
Hilary was the only one
who dared speak. He started
forward with a smothered
exclamation. Adela silenced
him with an imperious mo
tion of her wide white hand.
“Wait, Hilary. Let me tell it.
I came downstairs and found
Bayard dead in the study. I
was afraid Dave would be
blamed for shooting him. We
all knew Dave had made one
attempt upon his life. I was
frightened. I knew I must
hurry and plan something to
draw any possible suspicion
from Dave. I thought if I
telephoned from town and
seemed to talk to Bayard
from a place where people
could hear me, that might
make it appear that Bayard
had actually been shot after
the time I telephoned, which
would be, of course, after the
members of the family were
out of the house. I even—”
she faltered briefly here
again, smoothing the white
ruffle on one wrist and look
ing at it with unseeing eyes
—“I even arranged the tele
phone so it would ring with
the receiver actually off the
hook—” I suppose I made
some gesture there, for Evelyn
glanced sharply at me and
then back to Adela—“and
placed the receiver near Bay
ard’s—Bayard’s hand as if he
had been using it. I hoped it
would look as if he’d been
killed after I talked to him
and this after everyone who
might be thought to be con
cerned in his death was away
from the house.”
She stopped, looked at us
coldly, and finished: “I went
to the drug store and tele
phoned. I let it ring just once,
and at the beginning of an
other peal I broke the con
nection. No one could see my
left arm, but I leaned against
the telephone and talked so
Mr. Lelly could hear me.
Then I thanked him and
went to the Aid Society.”
There was a complete si
lence. Then Hilary said jerk
ily:
-\naeia, you are trying to
shield me. I was going to stick
to what I’d said in the first
place. But it’s true. Bayard
was dead when I came.”
I leaned forward.
“Where was the gun?” I
asked.
Adela looked at me in a
perplexed way.
“I don't know,” she said
slowly. “I don’t remember
the gun.”
I turned to Hilary.
“When you entered the
study and found Bayard
dead, did you see the re
volver? What did you do with
it?”
“I didn’t have it. I didn't
see it. There was no gun.” He
had answered quickly with
an air of defense as If I had
accused him of something.
hour and will pull the nation out
of the depression. The present de
pression la the worst I have seen
In my 101 years,1* he said
Speaking of the succession of
states favoring repeal of the 18th
Amendment, he said he wtu "glad
the nation is getting over its fool
ishness."
Stolen Spcona Were
Returned in Odd Manner
Ek City. Okl*r~-(UF>— Joe
Grissom's swung were stolen
He turned to Evelyn. “There
was no gun, was there, Ev
elyn?”
‘ Ho,” she said at unce and
very decisively. “I’m sure
there was no revolver there. I
feel sure Dave's gun was not
■-” Perhaps the look on my
face stopped her.
Janice had hidden the gun
in the egg basket. She had
had the egg basket over her
arm while she had her last
brief words with Bayard. She
had told us she hid the re
volver on her return to the
house late in the afternoon.
That she had found Bayard
dead then and had hidden
Dave’s revolver in the basket
and carried it to the kitchen
in order to protect Dave.
But only a few moments
after Janice had left the
house with the presumably
empty baskets, Adela had
found Bayard. Had found
Bayard dead. And she had
seen no revolver.
Hilary had seen no re
volver. Evelyn had seen no
revolver. And it had been
found late that night in the
egg basket.
Too late I saw how dread
fully my Injudicious questions
had involved Janice. Hilary
saw, too, and Allen.
“I refuse to permit Janice
to be questioned until she has
seen a lawyer,” said Allen. He
was standing at the side of
Janice’s chair. He put his firm
brown hand on her arm.
“Been advised by someone, I
mean,” added Allen, “who is
not a member of this family.”
CHAPTER XVIII
It took Hilary an incredu
lous moment or two to com
prehend the full enormity of
Allen’s suggestion. It was
rather alarming to watch his
face grow slowly purple with
rage. But instead of venting it
on Allen, as one might justly
have expected, he whirled to
me, pointing a forefinger that
was literally trembling with
anger.
‘ This is your doing, Nurse,”
he all but shouted. “If it
wasn’t for you we wouldn’t
have got into this damn fix.”
“Hilary—” warned Evelyn.
He gave his wife a look of
fury, but stopped, and Janice
said rather sadly:
“But I don’t need a lawyer,
Allen. I’m perfectly willing to
tell the whole truth about the
thing. I have already told
the truth. I told Miss Keate
last night.”
“I’m not sure,” said Adela
slowly, “that any of you have
been telling the truth. But I
didn’t mean—I didn’t realize
—I had no intention of
bringing suspicion upon Jan
ice. Janice had nothing to do
with Bayard’s death. That is
not to be thought of.”
“Look here,” said Allen.
“That’s what’s the trouble.
That’s why we are so fright
fully entangled. We’ve all
been trying to shield each
other. Or rather to shield
Dave. Suppose Dave did kill
Bayard. He’s gone now, and
the truth can’t hurt him. Why
don’t wre all tell exactly the
truth about Bayard’s death?
If we prove that Dave killed
him, it can’t hurt-”
“No, no!” cried Janice. “I
don’t want to know. I don’t
•want you to prove that Dave
killed him.”
You are au determined
that it was Dave,” said Adela
coidly. “Why not Allen? Or
Hilary? Or any of you, as well
as Dave?”
Hilary had barely subsided,
and the mention of his name
as a possible suspect was like
a match to gunpowder.
“I’m not afraid of the
truth,” he cried. “I’ve ad
mitted that I found Bayard
dead. You all probably know
why I said he was alive when
I saw him last. It was because
I knew people might blame
me for his death. Might say
I killed him. I thought Dave
had killed him. and I still
think so. I think Dave’s
death Is an admission that he
killed Bayard.”
“Dave was not a suicide.”
said Adela. “I will not let you
say that.” ___
(TO BE CONTINUED)
from his home and returned In a
most unexpected manner
A tramp entered the cafe down
town where Orissom works, offer
ing to trade a act of spoons for a
meal.
The manager made the trade,
brought the spoons to the kitchen
and opened the packet.
"I know those spoons.” Gris
som announced. “I ate with them
for seven years."
... » -
An accurate division of Lake Erie
by Prof. C. K. Uberman of Oh.o
3Ute university. gives Ohio 3.MO
«Mgre miles of tM hod? of water
LIFE'S
LITTLE
JESTS |
ALL FOR NOTHING
She watched the door of her new
establishment open to admit her first
client Business had started! A
good Impression must be created
upon him!
Hurriedly she grasped the tele
phone receiver and became engaged
In an animated conversation. Then,
an appointment having been ar
ranged, she replaced the receiver,
and, beaming on her customer asked:
“What can 1 do for you, sir?”
A moment’s pause, and then:
“If you please, ma’am, I've come
to connect the telephone!”—London
Tit-Bits.
Theological **x:nspring
Two ministers were driving in a
cab to the station, and were in some
anxiety lest they should mt«* their
train. One of them pulled out his
wntcli and discovered it had stopped.
"How annoying!” lie exclaimed.
“And I always put such faith in that
watch!"
“In a case like this,” answered the
other, “good works \ mid evidently
have answered the purpose better.”—
Christian Advocate.
Sizing Them Up
The Coach—Yes, sir, our track
team is the bone and sinew of the
college.
The Professor—Not so very sinewy,
but there's enough bone in their
heads to make the classification ap
propriate.—Brooklyn Eagle.
Of Course, Its Dead
She—The hair dresser says there
is no life in my hair.
He—That’s not strange considering
how often it’s dyed.—Cincinnati En
quirer.
Pass the Ear-Muffs
Headline: “Husband Leaves in
Midst of Wife’s Bridge Party; Dis
appears.”
Just a fugitive from the eliin gang.
‘-Atlantic Journal.
Just the Eye
Girl—I have broken my glasses.
Will I heve to be examined all over
ngain?
Optician—No, only your eyes.—Ev
erybody's Weekly.
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FRANKLY SPEAKING
The shog issistant wrapped up the
customer's parcel and deftly handed
it to him.
"There you are, sir,” he said, “and
If the goods are not Just to your lik
ing we will cheerfully refund the
cash.*
Parmer Giles sniffed.
"Don’t tell me sech a yarn, young
man," he replied.
"Eh? What?” exclaimed the as
sistant, momentarily taken oft his
guard.
“Ye might gi’e me my money back,”
said the farmer, “but ’taln’t human
nature to be cheerful about It.—Lon
don Answers.
Sign* of Busyness
The busy housewife was making a
hurried trip downtown and at the
last minute decided to sew a rip in
her dress.
On the car she noticed several
youngsters looking at her and laugh
ing, and on looking down she found
that she had her hands folded nicely
in her lap and on one finger was her
thimble.
MAKING IT ALL RIGHT
“I au> returning the dress suit you
loaned me, old man, and thanks. It
didn’t fit well, so I had the tailor
make a few alterations.”
“The deuce you did, well of aH
the—”
“oh, It’s all right, I told him to
semi the bill to me.”
The Old Coot
Mazie—I'm afraid I'm not going
to like my new job.
Mabel—Why, not, dearie?
Mazie—The boss told me lie didn’t
mind my being pretty, but he
wouldn’t stand for me looking into
my mirror to see if my nose needed
powdering, when I should be looking
into the dictionary to see how words
should be spelled.
Tinting the Bald Spot
“My dear, why has your husband
been sitting on the beach in the broil
lag sun bareheaded?”
“I’ve just bought a new gown and
John’s bald spot clashes dreadfully.”
Unnecessary
Prof.—Why don’t you take notes
in my course?
Dumb ’36—Please sir, my father
took this course and I have his notes.
Ugly, Disfiguring
Pimples
Covered Face
Cuticura Healed
“My entire face was covored with
ugly, disfiguring pimples and they
were very painful. They were very
hard, large and red and they gave
me such pain by itching that I
scratched and made them worse. For
four months they were so bad I
could hardly rest. '‘**k
“Everyone suggested remedies but
to no avail, and I became so disfig
ured I would not go out. Finally I
tried Cutlcura Soap and Ointment
and they made my face feel re
freshed, and after using three cakes
of Cutlcura Soap and four boxes of
Cutlcura Ointment I was healed.”
(Signed) Miss Bernice Whitaker,
Rt. 3, Hamlin, Texas.
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