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
