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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 18, 1943)
fBLACK ^ * SOMBRERO] ^CLIFFORD KNIGHT ^ Elsa Chatfleld, Hollywood artist, U cut M from the will of her Aunt Kitty, who fltted from an overdose of morphine. Bar ry Madison, an amateur drtective, and Bant Rogers, a professional sleuth, go to MaraUan. Mexico, on a yacht cruise With Margaret and Dwtght Nichols. Ar riving there they And that Elsa and her party have preceded them by plane. They Si nr at the rancho of Elsa's father, Sam Chatfleld, whom Rogers questions about his visit to his sister Kitty, in Los An geles, the night she died. Later Sam Chatfleld addresses his guests on the sub ject of Kitty's death, and asks that Rog ers conduct an examination. Rogers cross-questions the entire group and dis covers that each has a motive. CHAPTER VIII "Thank you, Dwight. And you, Margaret?" "Not guilty. Hunt,” Margaret said With a smile. Rogers paused as if debating the propriety of his next question. "You told me once, didn’t you, Marga ret, that you too might be said to have a motive?” "Yes,” answered Margaret frank ly, "I was Jealous of Kitty; she was out to take Dwight away from — - - II IT6— “Don’t be absurd, dear," Dwight Nichols interrupted. “I'm not, darling—” "I had a motive," said Elsa Im pulsively, recklessly. “I hated her. t’d hated her all my life." Sam Chatfleld looked thoughtfully •t hi* daughter and was about to speak when Berta, her white teeth flashing, her eyes moving almost roguishly, declared: had a motive too, and Sam; the sister was Inhospitable, insult ing to us. Such a scene! It made something’’— she pressed her plump, beautiful hands to her bosom— •'something inside very—very mad. With both of us.” In this curious haste to confess motives. Rogers’ face was full of Interest; a faint smile played about his-lips, his mild blue eyes shifted swiftly from one to the other of the group as each one spoke. After Berta had spoken silence fell upon us. Rogers remarked: “All these things, of course, I’ve known. There remains only Reed Barton’s motive.’’ He glanced at Reed, who sat stiffly in his leather pantaloons, as if to ask permission for what he was about to say. “Reed has said that Katherine Chatfleld can be blamed for his father’s sui cide—it was over a matter of some mortgaged property which could have been saved by a little leniency upon the part of the decased. “Now, then’’—he paused, as if un certain where to go from this point —“according to the estimate of the coroner’s office, Katherine Chatfleld died some time before midnight; dis covery of the body was not made until about seven the following •Doming. Everyone here has a mo tive of some sort—perhaps even Ohesebro has a motive. It would be odd if he were the only person lacking one. Until he can be ques tioned in this connection we'll not know definitely. Moreover, whether or not he was there that night—had opportunity—" “If It’s Chesebro you’re talking •bout. Hunt, he was there,” came the husky voice of George Rumble. ‘There? That night we're speak ing of? I must be certain." “Sure he was there. I saw him come away." "How about his going in? Did you •ee that?" “No, I didn't. I’d walked down tbe street after I got thrown out, Sd when I came back by there, esebro was coming out. Perhaps you’ve noticed how he's treated me. Hunt—like a yellow dog—from the first time I contacted him. Well, I think that's the reason for It. He's acted like he was afraid of me, or that I might tell on him." "That’s Interesting," said Rogers, rubbing the side of his large nose thoughtfully with a forefinger. “Our circle widens." "I saw plenty of other things that night too. But they never meant •nything to me until now, because I always thought the dame commit ted suicide. You put a different light on things. Hunt." Whom else did you see?” "I saw Reed Barton,” and he turned a meaningful glance upon Reed “He was coming out just as K was trying to get in to hand her Ifae bill for my work.” “But Katherine Chatfield was alive when you got in to see her?” "I'll say she was alive; she was Clickin’ on all sixteen cylinders when I saw her.” “But you didn’t leave the vicinity eg her home after you—got thrown «it? Is that it?” "Right.” "Did you enter the house a second lime?" “No.” “How long did you stay around thereabouts? And why?” “I stayed because I was mad. *George,' I kept talking to myself, ‘you got to cool down before you go in again.' When I get to talking to myself you know something is burning me And that dame sure did. My apologies to you. Chat field; she was your sister.” "Don’t mention it,” Sam Chatfield, absorbed in the conversation, roused to reply to Rumble. “I am aware that Kitty was a peculiar woman." “How long did you hang about?” Regers persisted. "Oh, maybe an hour. Not right in front of the house, Hunt, you un derstand. I'd walk down to the end of the block and loaf a while then come back. About the second time I done that I see Mrs. Nichols get in a car standing in front of the house and drive off.” Dwight sprang out of his chair and walked over to Rumble. He seized him roughly by the shoulder. "Are you accusing my wife of killing Kitty Chatfield?" he demand ed harshly, "No. I’m Just telling what I saw that night.” “Don’t, darling,” said Margaret. "He may be right at that.” "May be right?” repeated Dwight, puzzled. "Well, then, is right,” said Mar garet defiantly. Dwight let go his hold on Rumble and straightened up. passing a hand across his face uncertainly. "Who was it who ran out of the house, Margaret?” asked Rogers. Margaret inhaled deeply of her cigarette, desperately striving to control her jumpy nerves. “He didn’t see me,” she said. "He couldn’t have known, I’m sure, that I was behind the drapery. I lost Two men on the platform were doing the Coyote dance. my courage; I couldn’t go on with it. Talk with Kitty, I mean.” “Who was it?” pressed Rogers. "I’ll tell you who it was, Hunt," Rumble’s voice replied. “I can see she don’t want to tell. But the guy passed me down the walk a little ways, where a street light hit him full in the face.” I glanced at Mar garet. I thought that she was about to faint; her eyes were on Rumble, fascinated, hypnotic. Rumble took his time, realizing that he held the spotlight. Finally he said, "It was Reed Barton." Dwight Nichols sat back with an air of relief, picked up a cigarette and lighted it, and Ailed his lungs with smoke Margaret settled into her chair with a little sigh. I looked at Reed Barton. He was like a man bewildered. Suddenly he became aware that we all were staring. “George Rumble is a liar I" he said quietly. There was little or nothing left to be lugged out into the open that night. For a time Huntoon Rogers continued to explore skillfully into the hidden angles of what already had been revealed. At length Elsa interrupted. “We're wasting the evening. Hunt,” she said, getting to her faet and imploring him with her eyes to quit and let us go outside. For from out of doors came the sound of mu sic, of dancing feet, of voices lifted in song. The members of the house hold, grown tired of waiting for the signal to start, were already trying their skill. “All right, Elsa,” Rogers yielded with a smile, “on the condition that I may question any one of you later, if it is necessary to clear up cloudy points." “Of course,” Sam ChatAeld agreed. “And I thank you, Mr. Rog ers. You’ve managed to throw light into several dark corners. If at any time I can be of service to you, please command me." Rogers’ reply was lost in the gen eral movement of the group to the scene of the festivities in the open courtyard just beyond the patio wall where a low platform had been built over hollow jars to magnify the sound of the nimble feet and clicking heels. “Oh, senora.” Rogers detained Berta as the others moved out of the room. “Yes, senor,” Berta replied, paus ing expectantly and looking up at the tall figure. "This morning,” Rogers began, “near the stables an old dog was put to death with chloroform. I was told that you gave the drug to the I man for that purpose. Is that true?” A blank look greeted Rogers’ ques tion. For a moment Berta contin ued to stare upward at her ques tioner. ’’No, it is not true,” she said sud denly. "I know nothing about any chloroform. It is unthinkable that such a drug would be on the rancho, senor.” ‘‘Thank you, senora,” said Rog ers, and he bowed to her. George Rumble caught up with me as I strolled through the patio in the direction of the dancing plat form. He put his hand on my arm and walked several steps with me before remarking: "You know, Barry, Hunt’s got me to thinking the same as he does. Somebody sure as heck croaked that old gal back in Pasadena. But why does Reed Barton want to lie about it? I ain’t wrong. I'm not lying. I saw him; and I don’t forget a face. He acted like he was scared to death—runnin’ down the side walk. I think he got into a car down around the corner that night. Be cause there was one pulled out in about the time it would take for him to run there, get in and drive off.” "Anyway, George,” I said, "it’s up to you to prove it. Margaret says she didn’t see who it was; Reed says you're lying. Who is go ing to believe you?” "You know what?" George Rum ble said emphatically. “I think the old lady was dead when Barton ran out of the house.” “You may be right." “You know”—he paused, as we reached the grilled doorway to the open courtyard, “I’ll bet I could run that thing down—find out who killed that woman." Someone passed us in tne darkness, and Rumble reached out to detain him. “Chatfleld, I was just telling Barry that I think I could figure out who killed your sis ter. I’m going to try it, anyhow." "Well—I wish you success, Mr. Rumble," replied Sam Chatfleld courteously. “Don’t you want to come on out into the plaza now? I’ll find you a seat. We’ve got some in teresting dancers among the work ers on the rancho. They are put ting on most of the show for us. A few people may come out from town to join in or to watch, as they feel like it.” "Sure, we’re coming. It’s busi ness with me. I’m always looking for talent. I never know where I might find something or somebody I can promote—like I have Elsa.” “There’s a Yaqui dance just get ting started. You mustn’t miss it.” Rumble and I found seats on a bench in an enlarged circle under the open sky. There was an air of festivity pervading the crowd. The air was heavy with perfume drift ing down upon us on the soft night air. A burst of firecrackers star tled the edge of the crowd, but they soon popped themselves out. The odor of cooking came from the kitchen where in the ruddy g^w of charcoal fires women still were pat ting tortillas. Two men on the platform were do ing the Coyote Dance. To the beat ing of a flat drum, and the chant ing of the lone drummer, the danc ers, swinging lowered heads, their feet moving in an intricate sidewise shuffle, backed slowly to the rear of the platform. To a brisker tempo they galloped forward, only to re peat the maneuver over and over. Coyote skins stuck with feathers of the turkey, eagle, woodpecker and hawk hung down their backs. As the dance began to take on a mo notonous air, Rumble wearied of it and got up from the bench and dis appeared. A moment later Elsa crowded in beside me. "Did you just get here?” I asked. “Yes," she answered in my ear, and snuggled against me. I put my arm around her and we sat for some minutes while the beating of the drum and the chanting Yaqui voice went on. "I’m not the same person in Mex ico, Barry, that I am at home. This is a man’s country, not a woman’s. So what does all my talk about eco nomic independence mean down here; and finding myself, and run ning until things go dizzy inside of me? Was I being silly, Barry? Mex ico gives me a sense of deeper, more fundamental things—” “You’re just being Elsa,” I said. "Adorable as always, and desirable and lovely.” "Please, don’t say things like that, Barry. I feel very contrite for my madness this morning. I went in just now to apologize to Jimmy the Cheese. Even though I still hate him enough to kill him, I thought I should apologize for my unladylike behavior this morning. It was very humiliating for me to have to beat him like a dog And, honestly, I didn't know about his heart. That’s what makes it so embarrassing for me now." "And did you apologize?” "He was asleep. I spoke to him but he was lying very quietly, and, oh, so bandaged! Did I do that, Barry? 1 came away without dis turbing him. Probably the next time I’ll not feel contrite and he’ll never know that I want to apologize ” The dancing continued; the drum, the chanting voice, the dancers who each were now astride a long bow, which they beat, as they would flog a horse, with a split bamboo stick, as they shuffled nimbly and galloped about, began almost to weave • spell upon the spectators. (TO BE CONTINUED) MZMOS ... . Stuffed Eggs Are Colorful in Spanish Sauce (See Recipes Below) Point Wisdom There should be some sort of an “E” award for the housewives who go about their business daily, keeping their homes in order ) and feeding their families nutri tious. well - bal anced meals in spite of high prices and hiked-up point values. And to you ladies who rate or would rate the household “E” aren’t you finding new respect for foods low in points or which require no points? I wager there’s many an egg with a heart of gold that’s come to your rescue and hitherto scorned fish that’s made a hearty and delicious meal when points have been all used up. Both eggs and fish are complete proteins, and they are just as im portant as meat in building and re pairing body tissue which is neces sary every day. Both can be com bined into just as looked-for dishes as meat and cheese which are ra tioned. A word of caution when you cook those precious eggs. Use low tem peratures whether you fry, scram ble, cook or bake them, otherwise you will have tough, leathery eggs. Cook them carefully, and ah! you will indeed discover how delightful they truly are. Use variety in serv ing eggs, too, and don’t just go through the humdrum monotony of serving them plain boiled. Spanish Eggs on Toast. (Serves 4) 8 stuffed egg halves 4 slices of toast Spanish sauce Lay slices of toast on bottom of baking dishes. Prepare Hot Stuffed eggs as suggested in following rec ipe and arrange eggs on top of toast. Pour hot Spanish sauce over and around eggs. Garnish with toast triangles. Serve at once. Stuffed Eggs. 4 hard-cooked eggs % teaspoon salt Dash of pepper or cayenne 3 tablespoons salad dressing 1 teaspoon chopped parsley Cut eggs in half lengthwise or crosswise Remove yolks, press through sieve. Add seasonings and dressing. Beat until fluffy and refill egg whites. Top stuffed eggs with buttered crumbs and broil or bake in hot oven about 6 minutes or until crumbs are browned. Spanish Sauce. Prepare about 3 cups of your fa vorite tomato sauce and season rather highly. Add 2 tablespoons chopped onion and 2 tablespoons chopped green pepper at the last Eggs a la King. (Serves 3 to 4) 3 tablespoons butter or margarine 3 tablespoons flour Lynn Says: Meat Stretchers: Store and cook meat properly for greatest economy. Fresh meat is best stored if wiped with a damp cloth, covered loosely with waxed pa per and stored in coldest part of refrigerator. Variety meats, ground meats and fish should be used 24 hours after purchasing. Ground meat darkens if allowed to stand and spoils more quickly than whole cuts. Frozen meat keeps indefinitely in the freezing unit. However, after thawing, it spoils more quickly than other meat and should be cooked immediately. Cooked meats should be cov ered closely to prevent drying and stored in coldest part of re frigerator. Do not cut, grind or slice until ready to use. Poultry should be cleaned and washed before refrigerating. It keeps better if stored whole rath er than in pieces. Lynn Chambers* Point-Saving Menu •Baked Fish With Stuffing Broccoli With Lemon Wedges Baked Potatoes Jellied Fruit Salad Whole Wheat Rolls Butter Honey Oatmeal Wafers Beverage •Recipe Given 2 cups milk Salt and pepper 6 hard-cooked eggs, chopped % pound mushrooms 1 tablespoon chopped pimiento 1 tablespoon chopped green pepper Melt butter or margarine in top of double boiler; add flour and stir to a smooth paste. Add milk gradu ally, stirring con stantly, and sea- ( son. Cook 5 min utes over boiling water. Add eggs, sliced mushrooms sauteed in butter or margarine, pim iento, and green pepper. Reheat. Serve on toast or in rice ring. Chinese Omelet. (Serves 6) H cup uncooked rice 4 tablespoons butter or margarine 4 tablespoons flour 2 cups milk 3 eggs, separated Va teaspoon paprika IVa teaspoons salt Hi teaspoon dry mustard 4 tablespoons grated cheese Cook rice until tender. Rinse with hot and cold water. Make a sauce of butter or margarine, flour and milk. Cook, stirring constantly un til thickened. Beat egg yolks. Add rice, sauce, seasonings and cheese. Fold in stiffly beaten egg whites. Pour into a greased shallow pan. Bake at 350 to 375 degrees for 35 minutes. Do you frequent the fish counters at least twice a week to look for bargains in fresh fish? If you don’t, you should, for it’s a splendid way of providing your family with a good quality protein food, to say nothing of the way in which you save points for meat. •Baked Fish. Clean fish and prepare for stuff ing. Dry carefully inside and sprin kle with salt. Stuff and sew up fish. Rub with melted fat. salt and dredge with flour. Place on a greased fish sheet in dripping pan. r-iace over nsn small pieces of salt pork or brush with oil Bake 45 minutes in a moderate (350-degree) oven. Fish Stuffing. 1?4 cups bread crumbs 2 tablespoons chopped onion H cup chopped celery 2 tablespoons chopped parsley 1 egg, beaten 54 teaspoon salt H teaspoon paprika 1 teaspoon lemon juice or y* teaspoon herb seasoning Combine all ingredients together and add enough milk or soup stock to hold ingredients together in a moist dressing. Fill fish, then sew sides together with a coarse needle and thread. Baked Halibut With Spanish Sauce. 2 pounds halibut Spanish Sauce: 1 can tomato soup 1 small onion, chopped 4 tablespoons green pepper, chopped Place halibut in greased utility dish. Mix tomato soup with green pepper and onion and pour over fish. Bake for 1 hour in a 375-degree oven. W hat are your problems in ratioa ing? If rite to Lynn Chambers for ex pert answers, enclosing a self-addressed, stamped envelope for your reply, at If estern Newspaper Union, 210 South Uesplaines Street, Chicago, Illinois. Released by Western Newspaper Union. PATTERNS SEWING 1| CIRCLE v_-=^-_✓ 1896 12-42 Body Moulding. VT'OU’LL be delighted with the * way this four-gore slip with its brassiere top fits your figure! You may finish it with a smart lace front and lace hem. The pattern includes panties to match. • * • Pattern No. 1896 is designed for sizes 12, 14. 16, 18, 20; 40 and 42. Correspond ing bust measurements 30, 32, 34, 36, 38. 40 and 42. Size 14 (32) slip requires yards 36 or 39-inch material, panties 1 yard. One lace motif plus 4 yards edging to trim set. Due to an unusually large demand and current war conditions, slightly more time is required in filling orders for a few of the most popular pattern numbers. 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