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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 17, 1922)
" The Room on the Roof °=(§)=* By Will Payne | The Story Thun Fur. Nathaniel Harwood, a handsome lawyer. 4J years old. a widower, has lost most of the big fortune his wife left him and hla daugh ter To recoup. Harwood has prac tically engaged himself to Hetltla Belknap, a widow worth $10,090. 009 To Harwood come Adolph Krom. a sinister looking lens grinder, and a “Professor.” Stein man, with an Invention to pro duce motion pictures in natural colors and in relief. This inven tion they have stolen from Simon Curlln. their employer The three teach an agreement. Harwood In stalls the workmen in the room on tho roof, a curious retreat he has built himself on top of the Belk nap kuUdlug. an office skyscraper. Stelnman f**ars Curtin's wrath, so Harwood taken him ami Krom to Slow River, Mich, and there finds a workshop for them In an old factory Slow River was Har wood's birthplace. There he meets Elizabeth Malden. Judge His ' comb’s rotary, and falls in love with her. Ho takes her to Chicago as his secretary at $76 a week. Curlln and hlu nephew', Robert Whiteside appear at tho Slow Riv er factory asd are thrown out. Whiteside young and fearless, stirs Elizabeth. Exploring the room on the roof, Elizabeth finds Curlln and Whiteside trying to open the safe. Whiteside tells her they "are seeking plans and a cam era stolen from his uncle. Eliza, beth permits them to leave Har wood’s sister, Sarah Otwell. intro duces Elizabeth to Chicago society The expensive gowns Elizabeth nowf orders tax her salary. Har wood proposes and Elizabeth agrees tu marry him. She goes to Blow River to tell her mother Bteinman has disappeared Eliza beth again meets Robert White side, Niiil hunting the stolen cam era. He speaks slightingly of Har wood. but apologizes when she tells him she is to marry the lawyer ► FIFTH INSTALLMENT Elizabeth left Slow River at eight o'clock, reaching Chicago at noon, ami went directly to the office. Har wood greeted her loverlike, asked a smiling question about her mother. But It at once appeared that he was much annoyed: “You didn't see Krom up there?” he asked anxiously. "No." she replied. He ran a nervous hand over his sleek mane, and exclaimed irritably: "Doggone the blockhead! Judge Liscomb telephoned about half past nine. Homebody broke Into the shop up there last night—rummaged around the office, breaking open some locked drawers and so on. The judge said everybody had clear ed out—Krom and Steinman, I mean; Peter Green on a spree. There may have been something important—things connected with with this invention, you know; something may have been stolen. I can't find hide or hair of Krom.” In his irritation he gave her a con fidence: "The fellow drinks—a spree every now and then. Some thing important may have been stolen. An old curmudgeon named Curlin is after this invention.” His anxious, irritated manner showed how deeply he was disturbed. She listened to him with wide eyes; at once recalling—naturally—the lubberly young man whom she had seen at Slow River. It raised a clear Issue of loyalty, and she met it loyally. “I can toll you somehting about that, Nat." For she had resolved to call him "Nat." "Mr. Curlin’s * nephew—a Mr. Whiteside— was at Slow River yesterday.” She told him how, sitting on her mother's porch, sho had seen Whiteside across tho street and ho had come over and tallied to her a few minutes. "I first saw him at Slow River the Saturday before I came here— him and his uncle.” She related that episode. “And then I saw them up here in the roof room." She described that also. "I thought, perhaps, I ought to tell you about that—but it didn't seem necessary. The safe was locked; I felt sure no harm had been done. And he—Mr. White side—said this invention belonged to his uncle and had been stolen from him. He said his uncle had made a camera that contained the ideas for the invention, only not worked out fully, and if they could find the camera they could prove it was his. uncle's invention. I knew it wasn't stolen or you wouldn’t he handling it. It didn't seem wortli while to mention it to you.'' "Certainly there was nothing stolen about it,” Harwood declared testily. "This old codger Gurlln proposed to have Steinman and Kroin make a big invention and then take it away from them- He's sore now because they got out of his clutches. With me they’re go ing to get two-thirds of all the roy alties. They've no money. T could have held them up myself if I had wanted to, but I didn't want to.” Naturally he wouldn’t want to! He would want only to treat them It .honorably and generously! tih<* warmed toward him anew. But he was evidently much disturbed—In n more irritated state than she hail ever seen him? A further reason foi that slate •oon transpired. He had an impor tant appointment in New York the next day—something in connection with the motion picture merger which he had mentioned to her. He wished very much to keep that ap pointment; otherwise a tine oppor tunity might slip by. Rut here he was all in the dark as to whether or not some disaster to his plans had arisen through the burglary of the factory at Slow River. "Krom could hardly be such an awful fool as to leave clues to tho Invention laying around that of fice, where anybody might break in and steal them,” he speculated unhappily. "I warned him about that and he said there was no danger; everything was secure. Rut tho fellow drinks, you see—no telling wliu a drunkard might do." In exasperation he struck his hand across his mane again. She had never before seen him like this, but always serene like a player with the game well In his own hands. She sympathized with his distress; she, too. thinking it im possible that Krora could have left Ills invention laying around where anybody might steal It. He saw great things in that con ference in New York, and his san guine mind soon ran toward the cheerful view of the situation. Of course, Krom would be turning up: everything would be all right. During the afternoon, however, Krom dpi not turn up It cante on toward train time. Prudence, no doubt, would have counseled Harwood to wait. But he couldn't tolerate the idea of a real disaster to his plans: he'd set his heart on the New Yotk conference; he kept arguing himself into the cheerful view, and, after waiting as long as possible, dashed out of the office just in time to catch his train. Elizabeth had the schedule of the train; she was to send him a wire en route, if Krom appeared, or to telephone him at his hotel in New York. As he dashed out of the of fice she felt herself quite in the thick of the fight, holding an im portant post. But it was 11 o'clock next mron ing liefore she had any word of Krom. Then he came leisurely into her cabinet, carrying his small black bag. He tvns freshly barbered and she was quite sure, at a glance, that he was perfectly sober. She lighted up at sight of him. Her voice lilted galy: "O! We've been looking for you!” Excitement brought a faint tinge of color to her cheeks- She laughed. "We were thinking of advertising in the ‘Dost and Found.’ Mr. Harwood’s gone to New York. She had risen, ad vancing, eager: “He was anxious Somebody broke into the factory at Slow River night before last— broke open some drawers. Mr. Harwood was afraid something had been stolen.” . The burglary appeared to he news to Krom, but he took it calm ly, commenting: "Curlin probably." "Mr. Harwood thought something might have been 9tolen,” she re peated. Krom gave a gurgling little chuckle: "Swell chance! X knew Curlin was prowling around. Swell chance to steal anything! Mr. Har wood needn't worry about that.” That, assurance calmed her. "I’ll tlephone him,” she said and stepped back to her desk. Standing solidly in the middle of the room, black bag in hand, Krom regarded her as she slipped lithely into the seat by the desk. He pinched his chin between thumb and forefinger and suggested: "hike to see something pretty?" "Of course!" she replied. “Come upstairs in 15 minutes," he said, a smile under his mustache. “You don't mean"—she asked breathlessly—“the picture?" He gave his little chuckle and repeated, “Come upstairs in 15 minutes. Then you’ll have some real news to telephone.” That must mean the picture! She though. She measured off the 15 minutes impatiently by her watch, and once more ran up the mysterious stairs with a high beating heart. Krom had closed the wooden shut ters over the round windows, ex cluding daylight, and turned on the electrics. A white screen stood in the further end of the room, and in the nearer end a motion picture projecting machine on a tripod. She took this in at a glance, and the vacant chair in front of the pro jecting machine toward which Krom nodded, saying: "That's your place.” The lights went out, except the broadening funnel that shot above her head from projecting machine to screen. An image came upon the screen that made her catch her breath. It was a familiar bend in Slow Uiv< r. water lily pads In the pool near shore; some wild fleur-de lis in the marshy ground further back. Krom in a red skiff drifted into the picture, pulled some lily puds, tossed and caught a coupe of oranges, waved a green scarf. The camera caught a small, leaping fish; the lily pads swayed In a gentle current mude by the boat Then the scene changed to a country road running along a wood—which, also, she could fairly Identify. Again Krom came nto the picture, wnlking along the road, plucking red flowers known as Indian paintbrush. There was a vividness in these pictures such as she had never seen before—not only the natural colors in all their freshness, but a depth in the views, objects in relief, so tha it seemed one could walk away back into the picture and fairly look around the trees. The screen be came white again. Krom was turn ing on the electric lights. She wa‘s not sure of time, hut thought the exhibition could not have lasted over 10 minutes. “Well, that's all the show for the present." Krom announced, smiling “It’s very beautiful,” she said, "and wonderful." She wished him to know how much she admired it, and him. So Krom had a sort of attraction for her which she took no pains to conceal. This vulgar man's brain— and funny little Steinman's—had . thought out this wonder which she had just seen. He'd said "Fiat! and evoked it out of the void. And because he was a beefy, vulgar ap pearing man one should be more careful than ever to pay hint the honor that was his due. •'It's a fine tiling to liave done that,” she said, her eyes more elo quent than the words. "It must have taken endless work.” Krom's hand went up to his big mustache and he replied gravely, •' I’vo had it in mind ten years. It's really all in that lens I showed you. Of course,” he added modestly. “Stelnman lias worked at it even longer.” That reminded her again and she asked, quickly, "Where is Mr. Stein man? You know. I was up at Slow River day before yesterday. Good old Aunty Prothroe was all in a flutter about him—suspecting he'd been kidnaped or soinehting had happened to him.” She smiled as she said it. “He’s all right,” Krom replied. "You know how he is—odd and ner vous. He’s always been nervous about old man Curlin. Curlin's sore, you know, because we didn’t turn this invention over to him. Now that we’ve got it done. Stein man wanted to get away and rest a while. I told him I wouldn’t tell anybody where he'd gone. He's all right.” "I knew he was, she assured him. "It’s no trouble to get up a sensation in Slow River!" But he observed that she was not really thinking about Slow River, or Stein man. The last part of her sentence had sort of trailed off, mechanically, as happens when the speaker's at tention is diverted. Her attention appeared to have been diverted by the big safe in the corner. She had, just then, looked around into the corner of the room where the safe stood and noticed—with a litle start—that it was wide open. Tha safe. Robert Whiteside had said, probably contained a stolen camera, which he had sketched for her so that she could hardly fail to recognize It. "What a big safe,’’ she commented, guilefully, and walked toward It. A few steps look her where she could see the whole Interior, which was divided into two compartments by a horizontal shelf, and she could see, Indubitably, that It contained no such article as Whiteside had described. In fact, it contained nothing whatever. "I keep this projecting machine in there,” Krom Informed her. "The lens is the real thing, but there’s a new wrinkle or two In the propect ing machine; just as well to keep it locked up. I've got our camera safe, too." At any rate, Curlin's camera was certainly not there; and, since this safe was the only locked up thing in the room, it couldn't be any where in the room. Ttiat was a sort of triumph over Robert, to be sure. But she must go down and telephone Harwood, who was anx ious for news. "I’ll tell him how wonderful the pictures are,” she said. "But he must see them for himself.’’ "He'll be coming back soon?’’ Krom inquired. "Probably Sunday morning,” she replied; and shone at him: "The pictures are splendid! I'm proud of you’.’’’ With a backward smile she glided to the door and out of view. With an odd commotion in his breast Krom sat down deliberately to think it over. She was a queen —and then some! She didn't think so badly of him after all; that was evident. She didn’t think so badly of Adolph Krone Well, jnaybe Adolph Krom wasn't such a bad looker; and a girl like this Miss Malden probably wouldn't care much for the lap dog. Indy's man sort. He wondered how much of a crook Harwood was. Probably as big a crook its anybody; but it was Im portant to know. Meanwhile Elizabeth was tele phoning Harwood that Krom was back; nothing had been stolen at Slow River; she had seen the pie ture.s and they were wonderful! So Harwood pushed on with his amid tious plans. There was a reason aside from husine8s for Harwood's trip to New York He left Chicago Wednesday afternoon an.1 Mrs. Belknap st rived Thursday morning. The trip to New York would defer a meet lng that was bound to be disagree able. Unless, indeed, the situation so amply explained Itself to Mrs Bel knap that no face-to-face expluna tlon would he necessary. That was what Harwood hoped. Certainly I.e tttla Belknap was no fool and no greenhorn. She must have noticed the altered character of his letters of late—when he got around to writ ing a letter, or mere note. Plenty of other people would be writing her the local gossip, which could hard ly fail to hint at Nathaniel Har wood's evident interest In a Miss Ma! den. So Harwood hoped that Ben tia would simply understand the situation; and he usually believed what he hoped. Breaking faith with a woman was unplcsant, even when the woman was as ripely experienced as Betltia Belknap and as well buttressed against life's little disappointments by ten million dollars and an envin ble social position. But Harwood waved that unpleasantness aside His mind was hot with Bess' enthu siastlc reports about the pictures The negotiations in New York had opened most encouragingly. Above all, there was Bess, the witch, gh ing him hack love and youth. Beti tla Belknaps one could, more or less pick up at any time; but this Bess at every thought of her he was pen etrated by a conviction that such a miracle could never possibly happen over again to him. If he missed her he would he an old man on the down hill road thenceforward. He didn't intend to miss. Betltia and what ever else was in the path must he swept aside. He got home Sunday morning; dutifully kissed his sister; told her he'd had a successful trip; a big af fair that he was engaged with was coming on capitally. He knew- bet ter thnn to tell voluble Andy any secret that he didn’t wish their friends to know before the week was out. Presently she laughed and re marked, "Betitia's been over." The laugh seemed tq say there was going to be a row—a prospect which amused Amy. whom Mrs. Belknap had never particularly cultivated. Harwood still hoped the situation would explain itself. But he was called from the luncheon table to speak with Mrs. Belknap on the telephone. There was a polite greet ing, a perfunctory inquiry about the comfort of the journey from New York; then the real message, cool and conclusive. Come over in half an Hour, isai. I want a talk with you." Hanging up the receiver, Har wood reflected, rather dismally, that he might have known letting things explain themselves wouldn’t be Is titla's way. Apparently, she meant to have it out with him. Disagree able, but, after all, he might as well have it out once for all. Half an hour later, therefore, he left lus house—a handsome figure, with an air of alert, competent dis tinction—and walked briskly up the drive. The scene furnished a back ground to his thoughts. This house of his was a good one, yet a modest structure in comparison with its neighbors. And Joslah Cutter's money had built it; Nathaniel Har wood had merely inherited it, through a woman. He knew that some men said he had inherited everything—ills partnership in the big law firm, his fortune, his house, and his social position—through a woman. That had always been ir ritating to his pride, lied l>ern un fortunate in those investments. His present situation in regard to money was galling—pinched, beggarly, hand-to-mouth, the law firm scarce ly producing enough to meet his cur rent expenses. But that was only a passing cloud over the sun. There were the pictures, and Bess. He meant to plant himself here — not necessarily in this particular street, but In the rich, solid en vironment which this street con noted: plant himself on his owi bottom, spaciously and high. He would have a fine house, all his own, and all that went therewith, and the solid milliones to back it - and a beautiful, bewiuhott young wifel Much thoughts drifted rapidly la his mind as he walked up the drive. He came to a corner. Ahead, across the intersecting street, loomed a formidable pile of grim and* dyu stone, with much plate glass. A woman had said that the architec tural *!yle of ttic- building was "be spectacled Norman." At any rate, it represented the late Arthur licllc nap's idea of a dwelling—an im movable, impervious mass. Harwood paused at the doof for an affable moment with the butler, and went on, alone, through the familiar rooms A woman of ample figure and some threads of gray In her hair as in his own was standing up to receive him I.etitia did not dye her hair or use rouge excessively. The matronly amplitude of her fig ure was well correc ted by stays; ex cept that no stay maker's art eoutd conceal the generous swell of her breast. Mho must have been a handsome girl Ho noted that sho stood Up to receive him. offering her hands, not her lips; hut her face was composed. Pleasantly, or at any rate composedly, she asked him to sit down, and came at once to the ’ point—cootl.v; "What are you doing with this girl?" I here were endless opportunities for eluding the point; hut he had come there to have it out with her. lie took a desperate grip of Ills reso lution, his handsome head turned a bit to one side, and replied with a childlike siopUcIty: "I’m going to marry tier, I.etitia.” It was even quite kindly said. Final ballots, printed on postcards. Mrs. Belknap took a moment to digest that plump statement; her dark eyes, though holding steadily to his, were inscrutable. She replied in an even voice with a faint edge of hanter in it: "Even at that you needn't havo treated me so much like a dog. A night elegram would have cost you only half a dollar, you know—or you might even have taken forty eight hours to come down and tell me. Didn't that occur to you?" He only smiled a little. For he perceived now how I.etitia meant to flay him coolly, deliberately, dev trously, the even, light edged voice lifting a bit of crucible with every sentence. "Of course, you know perfectly how one learns those things from one’s friends." she went on "So you must know what's been hap pening to me—everybody that came along tacking a placard on my back: ‘Mrs. Belknap will now re ceive condolences upon having been ditched by Nathaniel Harwood ' I was always fair with you, and I must say this was a dirty trick to play on an old friend—pushing me over the wall to the lions that way, without notice. You might have sent me a wire: ‘On second thought have decided to elope with a chorus girl.’ Then I could have thrown a rag or two over me before I stepped out in the limelight, simpering" Her shafts went home, for he km w well what wounds the light words covered in the breast of as proud a woman as ever lived. That they were as good as engaged had been an open secret to many of their mends. Socially at ieast sne was a shining mark. Undoubtedly many lit tie darts had flown at her, many a little claw had come out of a vel vet paw to scratch her. He felt con trition. Somehow he ought to have managed it better in regard to Bess; not practically taking her into the family and advertising his attach x ment to her. Undoubtedly many sharp eyes had watched them. He leaned toward her. looking her in the face, speaking earnestly, pleadingly: “You’re perfectly right. Betitla. It was a dirty trick. I'm tremendously sorry—truly I am. You always were square with me and I never dreamed I'd he anything else with you. All I can say is I didn't do it. It happened itself. I saw her and went off my head about her—knocked into a cocked hat. It just happened." Mrs. Belknap gave a well-bred but but rather bitter laugh, replying: "And you're the man I picked out exactly because lie wouldn't go off his head! You came to me guaran teed—blown in the liottle ‘This man is dependable.’ That’s what 1 wanted—a reliable husband—com fortable. no temperamental rows, no foolishness. And here comes my guaranteed article to tell me he's cracked front top to bottom at the first Jar! You can't wonder if 1 m annoyed." She contemplated him a moment with a derisive smile and shook her head "It isn't in character, Nat Conservatism is stamped all over you. You’ve jumped the fence nf ter this butterfly now I suppose you'll have to chase her a while But you'll soon ge-t sick of it—tl.iuu dering around in the weeds and net tles. You'll be glad to come ba< '4 (Continued on l*»»e Seven '