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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 4, 1923)
The Room on the Roof_By wm Pame TOTS STOUT THUS FAB. Nathaniel Harwood, a handsome law yer of 43 has lost most of the big for tuns left him and his daughter by his wife. He is practically engaged to Mrs. i«etitla lleikiian a widow with ten mil lions Adolph Krom and a ••Professor'* Stelntnan interest him in a motion pic ture invention they have stolen from their employer. Simon Curlin Harwood •eta them to work in the room on the roof, a retreat above his offices in a Chicago »ky#raper Then he installs them In an old factory In Slow River, Midi . tils licme town. There* he falls la love with Elisabeth Malden. Eliza beth u«*es Curlin anJ his young Nephew, Robert Whiteside, ejected from the fac tory. She picks up a revolver dropped by Curlin and leaves it In the shop. Elisabeth goes to Chicago as Har wood’s secretary and becomes engaged to hint. Stelntnan disappears. Krom •hows Harwood some pictures, claims the Invention is finished, and demands the lawyer buy him out for $250,000. Krom relates that he killed Steinnian In a drunken frenay and burled the body In a trunk in the 81ow River fac tory. Harwood pays him $30,000 on ac oount. Krom Fees Harwood kiss Elizabeth and is Jealous. He plots, with Peter Oreen. watchman at the Slow River fac tory, to kill nap Elizabeth. Returning from lunch. Elizabeth sees Whiteside disappear through a door leading to the room on the roof. Dash ing up she finds Krom on the floor, shot dead. Beside him are Whiteside ami Curlin. the latter holding the revolver Elizabeth picked up at the Slow Uivor Factory. Elizabeth sees Harwood exam ining the contents of a black bag Krom usually carried. Later she finds the bag hidden in Harwood's desk. Harwood ■ays nothing of the bag. neither does Elizabeth. Curlin and Whiteside claim they had an appointment with Krom in the roof room but found him dead When they arrived In Krom’s coat Is found a note be queathing all his property to Elizabeth, •’especially trunk burled in coal bin.” Whiteside and Curlin are released on parole till 10 o’clock next morning. Eliz abeth goes to the Slo wRiver factory with Judge Llscomb to find the trunk. There they find Curlin. who forces them Into a coal bln and locks them In. Whiteside appears in the cellar and battles his uncle to release Elizabeth and the judge. Whiteside’s arm 1b brok en when the uncle hits him with an Iron bar. Robert subdues his uncle. Eliz abeth is about to open the trunk when a new voice interrupts: “Don’t be in a hurry.” TWELFTH INSTALLMENT. The Black Bag. While they were searching Kroni's room at the Ellenborough hotel, Sergeant Samuels perceived that Mr Harwood was a reasonable man who knew how to appreciate a favor. An excellent understanding was estab lished between them—one result thereof being that Harwood was permitted to retain the two lenses. And Harwood had told the detective that if Curlin and Whiteside broke their parole by going out of the' city it would probably he for the pur pose rf visiting Slow River and un earthing a trunk in the old basket factory. Haiwood thought Capt. West made a mistake in permitting the suspects to go at large on parole; but since that mistake had been committed it might be just as well, In the captain's words, to give them rope and sec what they would do. So when Curlin climbed into the smoking car of the 5:!>0 train for Slow River Sergeant Samuels climbed into the next car. and when the camera maker alighted at Slow River the detective followed. What happened next was one of the most humiliating experiences in tho detective's career. Avoiding the lights of the railroad station, the old man struck off rapidly into the dark, and almost at once the de tectvo lost him. Curlin, he was quite sure, had gone into a disused street near the station. Samuels beat up that street, looking and lis tening: but not a light showed, not a sound came to his ears. Curlin, in fact, had let hnnseir Into the basket factory > without showing a light, merely striking a match in the basement to find his way into the tight coal bin, where he turned on the electric bulb and shut the door. The coal bin window, at the back of the building and below the ground lev el. was thickly encrusted with coal dust and cobwebs. Samuels beat past the building two or three times without seeing a sign of life. Pres ently, finding no sign of life any where in that neighborhood, he went back to the railroad station to in quire where a basket factory was located. But the station was then locked and dark. In fact. No. 26, arriving at 10:01, was a sort of cur few in Slow River. Not only the railroad station, but Main streetr was quite dark and empty, except the Griggs house. There he found a light, but no one in the office. Presently a man clerk appeared —a comparative stranger, W’ho had never heard of a basket factory and could offer no helpful suggestion ns to how such an establishment might be found. For a while it seemed to the exasperated detective that he might have to shoot up the town in order to get any information. Mean while Harwood had been notified that Curlin had left for Slow River, so that at any moment the lawyer's car might appear—and detect the detective in the embarrassing posi tion of being lost in a country town. At length Samuels learned that the basket factory was located on the disused street which he had first followed. He returned there, peering Into the dark for a building ans wering (he description he had re ccived—and. Incidentally, damning all country towns. When Blizaboth turned on the electric lights their glow showed faintly through a grimy cellar win dow, and Samuels took a deep breath of relief. The office door was unlocked. By the light of a match he found his way to the basement stairs. •Don't be in a hurry!" he called out at the foot of the stairs. Nat, rally he was in bad humor. And old fashioned but stout trunk, bound in cowhide, with rusty Iron handles, lay on the basement floor. About it stood four people. Harwood's peachy secretary with an iron bar in her hands; Whiteside, Curlln.and an old man with one arm. They had looked up at the sound of his voice and were now staring at him His right hand was In his overcoat pocket, the fingers around the butt of an automatic pistol. These pa role breakers had given him a lot of trouble, which he charged tip to them "Got a gun?” he (Inquired of Whiteside, with the sort of ominous of Irritation behind the blow—de livered with all the force of a Bin ewy arm. The camera maker sim ply folded up, like a limp cloth, lie would have gone to the floor, but the trunk was behind him; and he would have rolled off that, only Hess, dropping the bar, sprang for ward and caught his arm. His mouth was wide open, his eyes popping-oddly like a fish out of water, for the blow had knocked all the wind out of him. Its got his hands on the trunk and managed to maintain himself In a sitting pos ture, gasping for air. Itess would not look at the de tective Just then. He was too re pulsive; and there was a sort of indecency in her anger, which prompted her. Instictively, to veil her eyes. Whiteside wet his lips again. "That was fine," he said, rather low. “My arm’s broken. It’s safe to lilt me. Why don't you?" The hard eyed detective surveyod him coolly and replied, with that ominous cheerfulness: “Just as lief Ing feet on the cement fffror above. Harwood and blunt nosed Detec tive Wistrotn came down the stairs. Leaving Hess on lot Salle street, the lawyer had hurried to his of fice. and presently got in touch with Prof. Kersten over the telephone. He now had five lenses, a film, and a projecting machine for the pro fessor to examine In the morning. Hut hla mind was running also to that trunk In Slow River. Then he was notified that Curlln and Samuels bad taken the train. Leav ing Whiteside to himself, he and Wlstrom followed; but a punctured tire had delayed them unreasonably. Almost the first thing he saw, hur rying down the basement stairs be hind the burly detective, was the old trunk standing on the basement floor—with Curlln sitting on It. Be fore he paid attention to anything else he went around in front of the trunk, looking at the lock. "They were goingeto open it; but 1 told 'em they bettor wilt," Sam uels remarked. So the trunk had not been opened! She made another thrust with the bar geniality which he used on such occasions. "No,” said Whiteside. The detective was at his side then and continued, "May as well stick up your hands." His hard eyes and straight lips seemed to convey a sort of third degree Intention. “Whiteside lifted his left arm only, saying, “This arm's broken." The detective took hold of it. not gently; and Whiteside winced; then wet his lips. The arm was cer tainly broken. Samuels swiftly felt the young man's coat and hip pock ets, and turned to the camera maker, with a slight grin; “How about you?” “I've got no gun,” Curlin growled, eyeing the enemy—roused again and bristling. “Stick ’em up,” the detective di rected briskly. Glowering, swelling with the af front, Curlin lifted his hands and Samuels briefly felt him over. But the camera maker's mind was on the unearthed treasure. “Now open that trunk!” he de manded, of Elizabeth. "Open nothing!” Samuels inter posed, conclusively. From the moment he heard tliat voice on the stairs Curlin had sus pected—furiously—that this Inter ruption would prevent the opening of the trunk. Two minutes more and It would have been opened; then his precious invention, he be lieved, would have been restored to him. To have one's hopes so dashed was unbearable. He shouted. “That’s my trunk! My property Is In It! We’re going to open it!” "Open nothing,” the detective re peated. “You’re going to march. Right about, now!” He caught the old man’s arm. Exasperated over that hour's search in the dark, he quite wanted some resistance. The raging old man pulled back and drew his arm as though to strike—all in an instant In almost the same instant the detective’s fist drove into the pit of his stomach. There was a great d-il as not. Put in your order any time you like." Bess felt how shameful this was. Not looking at anybody, her lips pressed firmly together, she picked up the bar. “I will open the trunk," she said, “as soon as Mr. Curlin can get up.” “Not at present,” Samuels re marked with that sort of finality. “Mr. Harwood will be here to see to that. Nothing's opened till he comes. That was final. Besa knew that any sort of contest with the man would be useless and foolish. She didn't wish him to speak to her; she didn't wish him to be near her; she didn't wish even to look at hhn. A brute—to strike an old man so. Curlin, maintaining himself on the trunk with both hands, was getting his breath in gasps. In a few min utes, no doubt, he would be able to stand and walk. Bess looked over at Whiteside—not a word, not even a perceptible change of expression; yet there,was plenty of meaning in the look. They both understood per fectly; It was a pledge. Painfully, silently, she watched the camera maker recover his breath; a minute or so may have passed. Again her eyes turned to Whiteside, in a quick glance; then she looked at Sam uels: "I suppose you came for these men. You may as well take them away." The detective grinned at so trans parent a ruse and replied with amusement: “No hurry. We'll wait for Mr. Harwood." Being habitual ly observant and accustomed to making deductions, he had noticed the peachy secretary’s look at the stalwart young man. IIow hod the peachy secretary come to be in this basement with the young man, any how? Harwood had cautioned him about this trunk. He had no idea of leaving it to the secretary, with a crow bar in her hands. “That must bo them now." he commented, as they heard scurry Of course, Harwood had seen Hess—with surprise. He now looked at her, smiling a little, somewhat dubiously, his eyes questioning Hut she chose to say nothing just then. So he addressed Curlin. "You gave us quite a chase!” and at once turned to Judge Liscomb, holding out his hand. "Well. Judge, I didn't expect to find you here! How are you?” He ^poke as amiably and cheer fully as though he had been in the judge's office; they shook hands. Alert, with that ready, competent nir, Harwood then, nt once, gave Samuels a significant little look and stepped aside, the detective follow ing. Bess almost marveled at the way he took it In hand and car ried it off. For a minute or so lawyer and detective conferred. In undertones; then llaiwood turned to Liscomb; "Do you remember about the night trains from Valley City to Chicago, judge?” No night train to the city stopped at Slow River. "There's one a little before 2 o’clock,” the Judge replied. "That'll answer,” said Harwood, brightly, with a nod to Samuels. “Judge Liscomb here will help you find a ear to drive to Valley City. Of course, take my car while you're looking for another. Judge Liscomb, this is Sergeant Samuels of the Chi cago police department. And De tective Wlstrom, Judge Liscomb. Will you help these men find a car to drive them to Valley City, judge?” Carrying it all off that way, with his bright alertness—settling it all, so to speak, with a wave of the wand! Again Bess looked over at Rob ert Whiteside, and there was a pledge in the look. Samuels announced, cheerfully. “Well, we'll march." But Bess spoke up: ‘‘This man must see a doctor; liis arm is broken." "Well have time in Valley City," Samuels observed. :ui though that would settle it. "No!" she cried. "There are doo tors here. Why should he rhlo with a broken arm?" She was speaking to Harwood. "Judge I.iscomb can take them to l>r. Wilcox." Evident* ly she was angry. "There'll he time.” said Harwood* agreeably. "Judge Unnimli will tuk* you to Dr. Wilcox. One of you can stay there while the Judgo gee* with the other to find a car." So that was disposed of. Samuels touched Curtin's arms. The blow in the stomach seemed to have taken all the steam out of lha camera maker. He stood up, and turned to Harwood, speaking with * sort of sullen limpness: “A damned thief and cutthroat as ever lived!” Even the hard eyed detective grinned. CurUn turned to Judge I.iscomb: "You're a Judge. I hear. That trunk's got my property In it. You stay here and see li* don't steal it.” Uut he seemed not to expect that that Judge would, and the Judge merely flopped an empty sleeve. Once more Whiteside and Bess ex> changed glances. A moment later four men wers going up the stairs, leaving Har wood and Elizabeth alone In the moldy basement. He was looking at her with a slight, somewhat di»« bious smile; and he said: "I didn’t expect to find you herag Bessie—especially In that con* pany.” His tone was courteous enough, but with a kind of mourn ful droop In It. And she compre hended that she was In the age old position of the female who must ex plain to her man how she came to be in such and such a place itt company * with such and such j male. She could almost have laughed over that. ‘‘I wondered about this trunk," 3he said, ‘and decided to come up here, I win'd Judge Liscomb to meet me; but when we got here, Mr. Curlln had already dug the trunk up. We walked In on him." She smiled a little wanly. "He locked us in the coal bln. Then Mr. Whiteside came and let us out. Curlln broke his arm. Then the detective came in." She used the fewest possible words, her mind really on something else, Hurwood listened, with relief. The great point was that she had trav eled up there alone and had come to the factory with Judge Liscomb. "I Bee." he said, pleasantly; and sho understood that he exculpated her; sho had not come there with a young man. At his pleasantest, lie added, "You must be tired, dearie. It may be half an hour or so be fore the car gets back. We’ll go up and sit In the office. I suppose you’ll ride back to town with me? Were due at the Inquest ut halt past 10, you know." Certainly she knew that; but she was struggling against the sugges tion of going upstairs. She felt in her bones that he meant to get her out of the way and open the trunk. And this unworded pledge to Robert Whiteside she was going to keep! Without looking at him, she replied, "O. I’m' not tired. Now that I'm here I want to see what I’ve inherited." Before he could interpose sha picked up the bar and thrust vig orously at the lip of the trunk’s lid. Once she got the point of the bar under the lid. bursting it open would not take long. , She thrust again; but as the trunk stood on its bottom she had to stoop and strike upward. "I'll turn it over," she said—still persistently not looking at him. Dropping the bar, she turned tha trunk on its side. It was much lighter than sho had expected, liar wood was greatly embarrassed. De cidedly he didn't wish her to sea the inside of that trunk. It might contain Curlin's invention—or soma thing more startling. "Let it be; you're tired." he said, "We'll get a locksmith.” She replied quite cheerfully, not looking at him, "O, I can do it. I'm strong." By way of proving it sho made another thrust with the bar, springing the side of the trunk. A few more like that would do it. But she must not oj>en the trunk. Harwood stepped beside her and put his hand on the bar. "I’U do it, Bess," he said, "but there's some thing I must tell you.” She had to relinquish the bar, then, or descend to a mere squabble with him for its possession. What was he going to say? He had the bar; he was looking her straight in the eyes—a handsome, pleasant ap pearing man. Then he was speaking to her In a grave undertone: "I may have made a big mistake. ICrom may have committed suicide, in spite of whut the police think. The Last time I saw him—Friday— he told me he killed Steinman. The fellow was such a confounded liar that I paid no attention to it—didn't take it seriously. He was putting in a claim for Steinman's share of <t on tin oed *n Page Seven.) j
