The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965, December 19, 1935, Image 3
COPYRIGHT IT MINTPN,BATCH, CC«. WN.U. SIRVICI^ SYNOPSIS John Spencer and his cousin, Geof frey Bohun, are vacationing in Aus tria. Geoffrey is a gifted portrait painter but prefers to paint land scapes. While strolling in the forest, John hears Kngllsh voices and de cides to investigate. From safe cov er he finds four men burying a man in green livery who, evidently, had been murdered. Pharaoh is the lead er of the gang; the others are Dew drop, Rush and Bugle. Unfortunately, John makes himself known to the assassins by dropping a letter with his name and address on it. He tells Geoffrey and his chauffeur, Barley, of his adventure. Geoffrey, realizing that John’s life is in danger, declares he must vanish. CHAPTER I—Continued —2— For more than an hour 1 wan dered the curious streets, crossing and stopping and idling and turning back, but I never set eyes upon any one of the four or on anyone else that I could fairly suspect; and at last I decided to rest and drink before making my way to St. Jacques’. I was sitting in a cafe, drinking my liquor when I saw a car going by on the opposite side of the square. For a moment 1 sat spell bound. Then I was up and was running as hard as I could. The car was a cabriolet, very long and handsome and painted green. Its hood was raised, so that who ever was in it was not to be seen but In front were sitting two chauf feurs—in curious livery. In a word, they were wearing green tunics, ex y actly like that of the man whom I ' had seen lying that morning, await ing his grave. The car was gathering speed when I flung myself on to the step. As someone within exclaimed, I thrust my head over the door. ‘‘Forgive me,” I said, using Ger man, “but I have most urgent news. Of the very gravest import. I don’t know who you are, but you’re deep 1 ly concerned." A girl was regarding me as though I were less than the dust. “How can your news concern me. If you don’t know who I am?” The words were spoken in Eng lish, with the faintest American touch, and the tone was less cold than imperious. “I recognized your livery,” I said. “Hasn’t one of your men disap peared?” The girl never moved, but her eyes looked straight into mine. “What do you know,” she added, “of one of my men?" “I know that he’s dead,” said I. I saw her start at the word, and a hand went up to her mouth. “And I know who killed him," I said, “and I’ll help you to rope them In. They didn’t kill him for nothing. I mean, I rather think 't there’s a good deal behind the 6 crime.” The girl looked at me curiously. Then she sat back on the cushions and glanced at her watch. “I expect the police,” she said coldly, ‘‘will be glad to hear any facts. The station is in the next street.” My speech was impetuous, 1 know, and never would have been spoken if I had but a moment to choose my words. “On the other hand,” I said thickly, “the police may agree with you.” "Agree with me—what do you mean?” “That It’s none of my business,” ' said I. With that, I made her a bow and sauntered back to my cafe. As I gained the pavement, I heard a step at my side. Then a chauffeur was speaking, hat in hand. Tier ladyship, sir, would be glad of your name and address.” “Tell her ladyship this: My name does not matter, and my address is this cafe—until I have finished my beer.” The man withdrew, and, more en 4 raged than ever I sat myself down at my table and mopped my face. I had been used with contumely, as though I had been some peas ant, the worse for drink. This by a girl whom I was seeking to serve. At last I looked up, there was the car before me with my lady’s face framed in its window and the chauf feur standing beside the door. “If you will forgive me, perhaps I can give you a lift.” This unadorned apology acted on me as a charm. All my resentment vanished. I got to my feet, laid a coin on the table and picked up my hat. . . . As I took my seat beside her— "I’m to blame,” I said, “and I’ve nothing at all to forgive. I’m afraid 1 shook vou op. But I—I hadn't re hearsed this meeting and 1 guess 1 went off half-cocked. I’d better Just tell you my tale.” “One moment—where shall I take you ?” “If you please, to the church of St. Jacques’." As the car moved off— “I’m Helena Yorick,” said the girl, "and Yorick Is the name of my home, some seven miles off." I gave her my name at once and then. without waiting longer, plunged into my tale. When I had done— • “Are you sure you weren't fol lowed?" she said. “I’m sure I wasn’t," said I. With my words the car stopped at the church. “Well, you can't get out here," said the girl. “We must find a much quieter place. Besides, you must hear my story.” Site gave some direction to the chauffeur and then sat back in her seat. "My father died last November, leaving my brother and me. We're Austrians, you know; but my moth er taught me English—she was American. My brother is younger than I am, and he’s away just now; so I run the castle, although, of course, he’s the Count. This duty takes me to Salzburg once a month. I made the Journey by car four days ago. On the way an attempt was made to waylay me, and when I got through—I was driving—they chased me for thirty miles. I had a man with me called Florin. Three generations of Florins have served our house. His father’s my warden —has charge of all the keys. Well, six men act as night watchmen, taking the duty by turns. Old Flor in chooses the men, and Ms son was one of the six. He was on duty last night, and this morning he couldn’t be found.” Her voice began to quaver, and I henrd her smother a sob. “I’m most dreadfully sorry,” I said. “And If you’ll let me help you, we’ll bring the blackguards to book. But you see my cousin was right. Florin was nothing to them, but he got in their way.” “Yes,” said the girl, “that’s clear. The night watchman got In their way.” With a sudden movement she turned. “But you must keep out of this. Can’t you go home?" “I’m not going home,” said I, “till I’ve seen this through.” “Don’t be foolish,” she said. “This quarrel is mine—not yours. Young Florin was not your man.” “The point is this,” said I. “That you don’t want to fight them with me is natural enough. I’ve given you Information which it was right you should have, and that, I frank ly admit, is the end of my duty to you: but I owe that dead man a duty, and I’m going to do It.” I broke off to mop my face. “My cousin's with me,” I added, “and so is his man.” ‘I wish, ’ said the girl, “I could have a word with your cousin. Do you think he could meet me this evening at—at a farm that I know?” “I’ll bring him with me,” said I, "wherever you please.” Lady Helena looked away. “You can come if you like,” she said. “But I want to see him." Then she took up a large-scale map and showed me the farm. This went by the name of Plumage, and lay some four miles from Annabel, quite by Itself. “At five o’clock, then?" says she. I nodded. “We shall be there." “And now,” she said. “I shall drop you. Please don't stand still when you’re out: start walking ut once. And thank you very much for doing your duty to me. And— and don’t forget that that's ended.” As I took her slim hand, her steady eyes met miue. “True," said I. “But my duty to Florin remains; and I’m not so sure as I was that he called upon me for vengeance.” “What else?” said the girl. “He loved his mistress,” I said. "As lie died, he may have been thinking that she would be short a man.” And then I went out of the car and was sauntering down the pave ment. Except for a crone with a bucket, there seemed to be no one i in sight. • •••••• As the Rolls swept over a cross ing and on to the Salzburg road — “I’m almost sure,” said Geoffrey, “that we’ve stolen a march on our friends. Of course they may stick to Barley, but that I doubt. And in any event he’ll give them the slip at Salzburg." “At Salzburg?” I cried. “That’s right," said my cousin. “He'll be in that city tonight. To morrow lie'll come back to Vlll ach, and there we shall pick him up as soon as it’s dusk.” “You’re taking no chances,” said I" “D’you blame me, John? I mean, the return of your letter was pretty good work. Talk about a riposte. . . . And you may have been seen with my lady; In which case, as she observed, the Job, whatever It ls, will go by the board, and Pharaoh and Co.'s one Idea will be to do you In.” It was long past noon when we stole into Annabel. Geoffrey berthed the car In the shade of some limes which grew fifty yards from the Inn, on the opposite side of the way. “You go in,” he said, "and have a look at the rooms. I imagine they’re quite all right, but you never can tell." I left him filling his pipe and walked to The Heaping Hook. This was a pleasant Inn, stand ing hack from the road. As I entered the great, stone tap room. It was clear that all was not well. It now seemed clear that some brawl or other had lately disor dered the house and I began to wonder whether the host was ab sent because lie had suffered some hurt. The poor woman's state, how ever, forbade my questioning her, and Indeed ns soon as she saw me, she threw her apron over her head and abandoned herself to her grief. I, therefore, turned to the scullion and asked him where his master might be, but the man seemed dull of comprehension and I had to Asked Him Where His Master Might Be. shake him by the shoulder before at last he muttered that the host was upstairs. I made my way to the staircase which rose from the hall, and a moment later had gained a fine, broad passage which ran the length of the house. The door of a room was opened, and the maid who had passed me came out, wide-eyed and breathless. “What’s the matter?” 1 cried. "Where’s your master?” She pointed to the room she had left and fled downstairs. I now began to think that the man must be dead for he was a mild old fellow and not at all the sort that drinks himself into a fury and puts his household In fear. I walked to the door and stood lis tening before I knocked. For a quarter of a minute I lis tened, but heard no sound, and my hand wms raised, ready to knock, when somebody spoke—and before he hnd spoken three words, I knew why the house was disor dered and wrhy I had not been re ceived : I knew why the maid was trembling nnd why the housewife was In tears: and I knew that, be they never so pleasing, the rooms at The Reaping Hook were not for Geoffrey and me . . . for the voice was the voice of I’haraoh, who was recommending the landlord to do as he said. CHAPTER II n Plumage. S I STOLE away from that door, I know that my knees were loose. So often as I remem ber thut my hand was raised, ready to knock, the sweat will start upon my forehead. I passed down the passage a-tip toe, as well I might. I was halfway down the stairs, which rose in two flights, and the doorway of the inn was before me, when there came to my ears the slam of the door of a car. I be lieve that I stopped instinctively, but almost before I could think, a figure was in the doorway—a little wiry figure — and was heading straight for the stairs. It was my old friend, Dewdrop Now I saw In n flash that unless of the four It was he that had been lying in wait to identify me at Lass, l stood a very fair chance of being no more than suspected as I went by. I, therefore, held on my way, and since he was looking down, I H*wdrop did not perceive me un til he was three steps off. And then our eyes met—for an Instant. Ills surprise was his undoing. As plain as though he had said so, I knew that he knew who I was and the second he spent In star ing served my turn. As his Angers flew to his mouth, I hit him un der the Jaw ana leaped for the door. The hall below us was flagged and I was afraid to hit hard lest he should topple backwards and split his skull on the stone. And so, though the blow was heavy. It wns not heavy enough. M.v hold of me he could not, for his balance was gone, but as I gained the fore court his piercing whistle rang out. My couslu heard It—I saw him. He had his hack to the Inn, and the bonnet of the Itolls was open and he wns making some adjust ment, spanner in hand. For an In stant he stared. And then the bon net was shut, and the spanner was In his pocket and a pistol was in his hand. Before I could speak— "Take the wheel,” said GeolTrey, "and back her the way we came. There’s a corner a hundred yards back. Turn her around there and wait Is that their car?” “Yes, but—” “Quick," cried my cousin. As I flung myself Into the Rolls. I saw Dewdrop, running towards us. stop in his tracks. As Geoffrey fired, the fellow turned and doubled, dodging from side to side. The engine of the Rolls was running and I let In the clutch. Then I lifted the car towards Geof frey across the road. A closed cur was standing In the forecourt beside the door of the Inn. As Dewdrop whipped be liind it my cousin tired again. Pharaoh was standing in the doorway, with a hand to his hip: as he drew arms. Itnsh thrust out from behind him and sent him against the jamb. I slut 11 always believe that this blunder saved Geof frey’s life. 1 had never stopped the Rolls and as Geoffrey leaped for the step 1 let her go. In an instant two shots were fired, and a bullet went by my face to splinter the driving mirror. And then we were flash ing through the village. Geoffrey was speaking. "I'm much obliged, my son. But another time you simply must Jo us I say. It’s you they’re after, not ine. And now please put her along. I’ve holed their petrol-tank, so I hardly think they'll start: all the same I believe lu distance.” Twenty minutes later we glided out of a by-road ou h grass grown track where this curled Into a thicket, I threw out the clutch. “My God,” said Geoffrey, and wiped the sweat from his face. “And after all that trouble to cover our trucks. Fate beats the band some times. And now tell me exactly what happened." I told him the truth. “Colossal,” says he. “Colossal. There’s no other word. However, there's no harm done.” He pulled out a map. “And now let’s see where we are. We run through a village called Wagon some four miles back.” We were twenty-two miles from Plumage, and the hour was Just one o’clock. “Tea with the goddess," he suld, “at five o’clock. What could be better? But I don’t want to wTalt till then. Besides, we must find u lodging.” Plumage lay more than two miles from the high road. The farm was set on the floor of a fair-sized val ley that ran due west. The dwell ing Itself was handsome, white and gray and low, with shutters of olive green. we stoie down me tane in si lence and as I brought the car to rest, Lady Helena Yorlck came out of the house and behind her a great Alsatian, a very beautiful hound. Here for the lirst time I saw how truly lovely she was. I Introduced my cousin and the lady gave him her hand. “I know your work,” she said. “You painted my mother’s brother six years ago.” “In Philadelphia,” Geoffrey said. “He carried his head as you do and he had the same blue-black hair.” For a moment they spoke of her mother’s American home. “Plumage,” said Geoffrey, "de serves Its beautiful name. Will you let me paint It one day, when the battle is done?" Lady Helena laughed. “I see,” she said, "that you have been reading the map." For a moment I stared. Then — "This Isn’t Yorlck?” I cried. “No,” said Geoffrey. “But It’s on the Yorlck estate. Yorlck Itself is three miles beyond these woods.” "And six miles from Annabel," said Lady Helena. “Remembering that, Mr. Bohun, do you still pro pose to stay there?” “No," said Geoffrey, “we don’t. We’ve—er—changed our minds." “I’m glad to hear It,” said the girl. “Mr. Spencer Is rather head strong, and he doesn't seem to con sider that he’s rather too young to die." Ludy Helena then turned to the bench on the left of the door. “Let's thrash this out,” she said. She took her seat in the middle and we sat one on eacli side. “You may take it from me,” she said, "that this is no ordinary case. I know what those men are out for, and they're not going to stand any rot. “They’re after something which isn’t mine to give them and which they will never get. (TO BE CONTINUED) Hewn Out of Rock The water reservoir of Gilbraltar Is hewn out of the Reck and hold* 9,000,000 gallons. Simple Set of Bibs For the Little One -- By GRANDMOTHER CLARK **» 1 ***** T vO*C* m Plenty of bibs must always be handy for the little one and n mother Is always ready to make up a few more If they cost as little ns these do and also require a little handwork. This package No. A 4 contains a set of three bibs stamped with designs like shown above on a fine quality heavy sheeting. Binding and thread nre not Included. The embroidery is In simple outline stitch. 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