tTIliS SUNDAY HKE ; OMAHA. JULY 2. 1922.
3
Dunbartun-Kent'e million! are
held In Iruat hy hi wlOuw f..r two
nrphowe, Hreek and Wi, end a
nuo. UeUa. They are to divide
lb fortune provided none rominiu
mint- nl Wreck hu beea
rear-4 a thief! Mr. Hranl Olwln'a
Jewel are etnlen, and 1100. ooo ami
me ffema rluappear from beneath
Mr a. Duabarlon-Keat'a pillow.
Brock and a mytrlou "Mra.
Smith" are auapected. but li denlee
all. Mra. lunbarlon-Kent centere
her airorta on recovering lha Kama
and prnterllus lha famllr nam.
Into Ihla almoaphara of rayetery
and auaplrlon welka lovabla Maria
Ancoulem to become chaffeuae for
Mra. lunbarlon-Kant. Uradually
Maria learne the family eeerel and
la attracted dxaplla hereelf toward
tha deapieed llreck. She diet-over
a love affair between Hella and
Allan Colfax, a third naphaw; her.
aalf recelvee m propoaal from Waat,
and la Invited by Mra. Dunbartnn
Keut ft bwomc a member of lha
family. Mra. Dunbarton-Kent re
veala aha haa orfared Brack 4ee.ae
for tha return of tha Jewel. De
tective Wlllatia raporla that Brack
prowl about at nlfht after plating
a dummy at a window. Mra. Dun-barton-Kent
plana to entertain In
honor of Mra. Brant-Olwln. ao aha
will ba mora lenient when tha
dreaded erpoeure comae. Bella tella
Maria to "cat together wlth.Mreck
and reatore the Jewel." Maria
flaahae back that, with a little
paint and a different eoetume,
Bella would "make a food Mra.
Smith," Marie Joyoualy dtacovera
Brack la Jealoua of Weil.
INSTALLMENT XI.
Bella, the Mysterious.
They went out to
gether into the gusty
April day. The wind
clutched at Marie's hat
and twisted her skirt
about "her knees. West
pulled his can down over
his eyes and gave Marie a helping
hand across the lawn. "I didn't
realize it was blowing so hard,"
he said.
"Upon such a day I wish for my
chauffer's uniform," Marie re
turned. "I like you much better as you
are. But look there I What's the
matter with my statuesque cousin?"
Marie brushed the hair out of
her eyes and looked: Fully in the
open, half way between the slope
of lawn and the sound, stood Bella,
her back toward them, apparently
staring at the ruffled water. The
wind billowed her light morning
gown and had loosened her hair,
setting it swirling about her head.
She presented an extraordinary ap
pearance, altogether out of keeping
with her usual severe dignity.
Though the wind, was cold, she
seemed oblivious of it; she sug
gested an upheaval, the elemental
broken loose. Marie looked, then
looked away. She said nothing,
but her lips tightened.
West scrutinized Marie, but he
said nothing until they had strug
gled into the park. Then he asked
her lightly, "Poor old Bella! Some
things wrong with her what is it,
Marie?"
"Maybe the wi ndcan tell you,
monsieur," Marie returned as
lightly. "To great dignity a storm
is sometimes disturbing.'
"I think you could be a whirl
wind on occasion, Marie." He eyed
her amusedly, yet keenly.
"I have never whirled upon you, '
monsieur."
It was easy to bandy words now.
She felt excited; she could laugh
again, and the will to fight was
tingling in her blood. Since her
talk with Colfax there had seemed
nothing to fight for, only the stub
born determination not to be
driven from Kent House and a
bitter detestation of Mrs. Smith.
"Whirled on me! The Lord for
bid!" West said fervently. "I'm
being careful I'm not going to
make a nuisance of myself today.
Lets take hands and run away
from the wind? Come!"
They sped down the slope of the
park, literally racing with the wind,
and came to a stop at the park wall,
laughing and breathless, Marie's
hair loose on her shoulders.
"You look- " West said, and
stopped. His blonde face was
aglow. He was going to help her
arange he hair, but she backed
from him. "My hat, monsieur
please hold my hat until I become
respectable.
"O, very well," he said lightly,
but his face darkened. He watched
her twist up her hair, a consuming
gaze that enveloped her, her dain
tiness, the vivid color in her cheeks,
and her parted lips and softly
rounded throat. He looked frown
ingly over his shoulder at the
Smith house. "Fancy any one's
marring that," he said through his
teeth.
"What?" Marie asked, startled by
his tone.
"I was thinking of what happen
ed you on the train to your
throat."
"I think such a thing will not
happen again," Marie said firmly.
"So Mrs. Dunbarton-Kent told
you?"
"About that experience? Yes.
But I'm. not so sure it will not
Ww
ii ofaMDfonBolbrs
j ELIZABETH DEJEANS
happen again. It' one of my great
est anxieties."
"I'm not afraid," she said reso
lutely. "And I'm sick with fear over you.
That woman " he stopped, Marie
felt certain, because he remember
ed that he must not speak of the
family trouble and Mrs. Smith's
connection with it. "I believe she's
a dangerous criminal," he added.
Marie said nothing. Happily an
other gust of wind flung her fur
tippet in her face. "Ugh! This
wind is terrible 1" she exclaimed. I
will not again ask a gentleman to
walk with me until I have carefully
considered the weather. I think we
must go back."
O, not yet!" West objected in
stantly. "It's been a happy walk for
me you're more like yourself.
You've seemed so unhappy ever
since you came into Kent House.
I want you to come to the cottage
with me I want to show you my
workshop. We'll be out of the
wind there."
Marie hesitated. She was longing
to get back to her room and think.
"Do come," he begged, and he
added firmly, "I promise not to
make a nuisance of myself. I want
to tell you some things, not about
myself, but about other people."
Marie yielded; it was a small
thing to do for one who had been
as kind to her as he had been. Her
mind and her heart were full of
Breck; she felt excited and hope
ful and sorry for West. It was
hard to love and not be loved in
return.
They struggled along to the cot
tage door, and West took a key
from his pocket and unlocked it,
ushering Marie into a large room.
There was only the one room,
with a beautifully beamed chapel
like ceiling of dark wood and
bookshelves built into the walls.
In one side of the room was a
wide and deep fireplace, with pan
eling on either side. There were
casement windows above the
bookshelves, but the large win
dows above the paneling on either
side of the fireplace were designed
to furnish most of the light for
the room, and Marie saw at once
why Mrs. Smith's house had
ruined the cottage, for the founda
tion wall of the Smith house must
have almost entirely shut out the
light. The windows were boarded
up now; the only light in the room
was from the casement windows,
which were on the park side of
the cottage.
The Smith house stood on a ter
race, which was almost on a level
with the Kent House park wall.
Before the house had been built
there had been a restful view of
the sound glimpsed through the
huge trees of Colfax hall. On a
sun clear morning like this the
cottage was sufficiently lighted,
for the casement windows looked
eastward, but even on a sunny
afternoon the place must be
gloomy. It was a despicable thing
to ruin a neighbor's house in that
way, Marie thought; no wonder
Mrs. Dunbarton-Kent was angry
over it.
Marie felt oppressed; Mrs.
Smith's baleful presence seemed to
hover over the place. The room
had been so beautiful, its wood
work chosen evidently because of
its exquisite grain. The floor was
also of lovely dark polished wood
and the furniture of the same
wood, carved and richly uphol
stered. It had been the retiring
place of a studious and artistically
inclined man; an escape from the
big house to perfect quiet. But
now there were the melancholy
suggestions of an abandoned
dwelling; the book shelves were
empty; there had been paintings
above the bookshelves and they
were gone, and so were the rugs. ,
There was a huge divan before the
fireplace, but no cushions; in the
corner, on the fireplace side of the
room, was a wide and heavy and
elaborately carved secretary, old
fashioned in its bulk and height, a
sort of desk and cupboard com
bined, and its companion piece was
the massive table in the center of
the room. But the carving of both
was thick with dust; the doors of
the secretary hung ajar, and the
splendid table was covered with
common white oilcloth. The place
had been stripped of everything
but the furniture, and the hangings
at the window had been replaced
by ordinary window shades.
On the oilcloth cover of the
table were dried lumps of sculp
tor's clay, some rusty sculptor's
tools, soiled water cups, and a box
of paints and brushes thick with
dust. At the right of the fireplace,
against the rich paneling, was a
rough pine table, on which rrere
coils of tiny wire, insulators, bits
of copper, piles of little disks that
looked like miniature talkies Ma
chine record, a litter of all torts
of things an electrician might use.
There were several nude dolls on
the table, from which the body
stuffing had been removed, gro
tesque objects that would seem to
have no connection with the elec
trical apparatus to which wires
were attached. The wires were
evidently let into the wall from the
outside and were attached to the
paneling behind the table, then to
the apparatus on the table. To
Marie it seemed a desecration,
using this chapel-like place for a
workshop, and the contrivance of
an evil mind, shutting out the light
from those splendid windows. The
gusts of wind struck against the
house, as if angry at such a deed.
While Marie looked about her
West went to the fireplace and set
a match to the fire which was laid
there, Then he came back to her.
"What do you think of it?" he
asked.
"It seems to me wicked!" she
said, indignantly, pointing to the
boarded windows. "Mrs. Dunbarton-Kent
told me of it."
"It was wicked," he returned de
cidedly. "Little good mav it do to
Fully in the open, half way between the
her back toward them, apparently
those who did it! But come over
to the fire. It's as cold as a vault
in here."
Marie followed him. "See," he
said, "this is my work table. It
looks as if I spent my time dis
secting dolls, doesn't it?" .
Marie was more interested in the
havoc Mrs. Smith had wrought;
Bella would be quite capable of
doing a think like this. "I do not
see how you can work here," she
said, still indignant. "To mc this
is like a destroyed church it is pit
iful." "I know, but I wanted quiet,
dear. Who could work in Kent
House? Breck used the place
first he used to sleep here and
do his studying here; then Bella
did some clay modeling here;
that's her litter on the table. Wheji
she gave it up I took to working
here in the mornings. It's the
only time the light is any good.
Then, too, it -was the only place
where I could have my electric -wires
strung around without in
convenience to any o.ne up atthe
house Aunt Bulah would be in ter
ror of my setting things afire."
He took up one of the disks from
the table. "Sit down and I'll tell
you what I've been trying to do
wry model's in Washington, so I
can't show it to you. I have been
working over an electric con
trivance to put into the body of a
doll. I want to manufacture a life
like, talking doll, controlled by
electricity. The speeches for the
doll are on these little records.
There's no reason why it ran't be
done, and think what a wonder
and delight it would be to a child!
Think of a dinner party of dolls,
and their conversation carried on
just by turning on a switch, i It
would make a fascinating enter
tainment for children, wouldn't it?"
Marie lookeJ t"iii;n wiit eved,
thoroughly iiitrrchtril now. "It i a
mutt uuui.ua! idea," iiimiMrur
"A good educator, loo!" West
said, with enthusiasm. "Think of
what nu'tiht be taught children by
mean of these records. And the
stories lite children's toys would
tell; the Teddy bear or the I'lule
Keuiu rabbit would he uoiithe
f til things, instead of mere cotton
Muffing made interesting only he
cause of the child's imagination."
"It is most wonderful." Marie
agreed."! t would he like becoming
a god lo a world of children
teaching them through their toys
good thought and how to live
well." She looked at West with re
spect and admiration. "Such a work
as yours must absorb every mo
ment of your time. Had I su. h an
idea, I would work ceaselessly."
It's what I ought to do it's
what I want to do but Kent
House and its troubles drive me
wild!" He tossed the record on the
table and flung more wood on the
fire. "Perhaps there'll be an end of
it before long," he said through his
teeth, "then I can work in peace."
He turned and looked at Marie and
broke into a smile. "Tell me, small
person, what did you say to my
cousin Bella that sent her flying
out into the wind? You're poten
tial, you know, in spite of being so
tiny."
"I suppose, monsieur, she went
into the wind because she wished
to do so."
"A sphinx couldn't do better." He
sat down beside her, his face grown
4 V
lawn and the sound, stood Bella,
staring at the ruffled water.
grave. "Bella is one of the people
I want to talk about. Don't quarrel
with her, Marie. I think Bella has
her serious troubles, though I don't
know what they are, exactly. I do
know that under that cold surface
of hers she's seething and that she
doesn't love you. I know that Aunt
Bulah seems never to have discov
ered that under all her calm Bella
is a violent woman. She can be
wildly jealous and revengeful, and
that kind of a woman is danger
ous; don't give her an opportunity
to hurt you. Let me explain a
little: The night Breck and Colfax
fought and you were hurt, Bella
and I were sitting in the library
we had been there all evening.
Then Gibbs came in and asked for
some lint and stuff which was in
Bella's closet and, though Gibbs
declared he didn't know what had
happened, Bella jumped to the con
clusion that Colfax was hurt. She
went wild. 'Allen's hurt! Allen's
hurt!' she kept repeating and she
quieted down only when I went out
and found out just what had hap
pened and came back and told her.
Then she flew at vou. 'So she went
down there to meet Allen !' she kept
insisting. It was a revelation to me
evidently she cares for Colfax, a
thing she has kept from everybody.
If it's true, I'm sorry for Bella.
Any woman who persists in cling-'
ing to a man in spite of every
warning and in spite of her own
knowledge of him is simply com
mitting suicide!" Then he added,
more quietly: "But not for any
thing would I make trouble for
Bella by talking about what I sus
pect. I felt I must tell you, though,
for it's not Mrs. Smith only that
I'm afraid might do you a harm;
Bella's a danger, too.
In the beginning, Marie had lis
tened with interest, but nrrw she
was not thinking of what he was
saying; her ,,. ,,,, (
hope lud fallen al...t.l her , ,,, f.,r
if Hella as klii, m (lr '
luring that rv.-ii.ng ul,.-,, she.
Mane, was R.i,K v,., .
Mrs. Smith. ;, , ,, M
Smith. Sl. as Mlk ,, st'
where idle was lirf.uc she lm.lt .eP
. f i?,..r,s' ""' "'It.
stood Hella honiru l,,,t .,,,..
' P ,,l,,,r,' depressed. InV.
le
I nailK V'MI lll.it vim Ii;..-
...in inr. Mie saiu toiicle.slv. "ami
it l kind f y , f,.,. allxirt
over me. I think, hun.ur. ilu't
..i?.,,ro rf;," to be fearful "
, Kind! he aaid with snd.leii pas-.
it'll. "I love you-l ni Mirrud to
death oyer you -in more wsv than
one! Im tempted to tell ton
everything! if jythiK ,,,,,,
to you, it would kill mc!- ii,.
breathed quickly and ran a nervout
hand through his hair. 'But -I
can't tell you I don't know that
it woulrf do any Kood, anyway
some women will love a man in
spite of everything-as Bella's
doing I '
hen he spoke more quirtlv.
Listen, Marie; I want to tell you
some things about Mrs. Smith.
They say she is a foreigner of some
sort, probably a Russian. She is
a confirmed gambler, and always
plays for large sums. She disap.
pears, then appears again, a mys
terious woman, and with no ap
parent connections. Such a woman
comes in contact with crooks and
thieves she may well be at the
head of some gang of criminals,
the most dangerous kind of a
woman. If she is in fear of the
law and from your experience
with her on the train and from the
way she disappeared after you
recognized her in the park, I think
it's likely if she is afraid of you,
she would not hesitate to put you
out of the way. You see, dear, for
a nuniber of reasons, I'm desper
ately anxious about you. I told
you once I wanted you to stay at
Kent House, but that was before
I realized the danger you were in
here. Aunt Bulah doesn't realize
it; she doesn't know to what des
perate lengths crooks and thieves
will go when they are hard
pressdd; but I do. She wants you
here, but, ii" she felt it was for
your good. I know she would
make a home for you somewhere
else, help you in any way she can.
So would I. It's because I love
you unselfishly that I'm begging
you to go away from Kent House
for a time only a little time.
Marie until we are certain that
that woman" he pointed to Mrs.
Smith's house "will not come
. back, and until there is a happier
state of things in Kent House it
self. Marie. I beg you to go for
your sake I beg you to go!" He
ended in passionate pleading.
Marie made no answer. She un
derstood so much better than he?
thought she did why he urge her
to go "for a time"; if they ransomed
the jewels Mrs. Smith would go,
and so would Breck, and Kent
House would be at peace. Perhaps
it would be best for her to go, she
thought despairingly; "against
hope, she had believed in hope."
She ran her fingers absently over
the upholstery on the arm of the
divan, thinking of the future; how
would she be able to endure it?
Then her forefinger touched some
thing, a hair clung to its moisture,
giving her a queer thrill, a hair
from the pelt of some animal. Marie
lifted her hand and looked at the
hair, then looked at it more close
ly. A wave of heat passed over
her, and she sat upright, staring at
her hand.
I'What is it?" West asked, sur
prised, and Marie answered invol
untary: "It is a hair from the tail
of a sable." She was seeing dis
tinctly the row of tails on Mrs.
Smith's sable stole the light above
their berths had made the hairs
glisten; they were unusually long
and beautiful, those hairs, like this
one.
West took her hand and looked
at the hair; then looked into her
startled eyes. "You're certain?"
he asked.
"Yes." She was thinking, "How
djd it get here?"
"So this is where they !" He
caught himself up. "It's a hair
from some dog," he declared.
"When-anybody says 'sable' in my
presence I have visions of Mrs.
Smith. Ughl I've worried about
you until my nerves are on edge."
He sprang up, shaking his shoul
ders. "Let's get out of here, dear
where the air's more wholesome."
Marie was thinking of Mrs. Smith
and of another who must have
been beside her on the divan : many
times she had wondered where it
was they met. She looked up at
West with wide hurt eyes. "Do
others than yourself have the key
to this place?"
"Yes, there are several keys. But
do rub that thing off your finger,
then forget it." He held out his
hand to help her to rise.
Marie started to rise, but she
held the hair tightly between her
thumb and forefinger. Then she
lost her feet, for they were start'ed
by a thunderous bang and a rush
of wind into the room which swept
up the ashes in the fireplace and
' (Continued an Pace Eight.)
