fy'y? BLACK
-;
CLIFFORD KNIGHT ..VvVc.fl X Bi
Elsa ChatOcld ti disinherited by her
Aunt Kitty who died of an overdose of
morphine. Hunt Rogers and Barry Madl
■on go to Mexico to solve what they be
lieve to be Aunt Kitty's murder. On ar
riving they find that Elsa'i party has pre
ceded them by plane. James Cbesebro
la murdered, Elsa's father, Bam, meets
death from the sword of a marlin when
his chair breaks, toppling him Into the
sea, and George Rumble, a member of
the fishing party. Is fished out of the
sea near the dock. Police chief Lom
bardo conducts the lnvestlgaUon Into
these deaths. Reed Barton asks what
they were doing with his fishing knife and
learns that this Is th* knife that killed
George Rumble.
CHAPTER XVII
"Practically all," he said. "I think
ff we were to sort them out properly
we could go a long way toward a
solution. Perhaps not all the way.
We can settle upon several perti
nent facts—clues that point toward
the solution."
"What are they?"
Rogers was silent for some mo
ments, turning over in his mind
the answer to my question. "I'll
name one thing," he began. "It is
more important than any other—
the picture of Elsa and the baby in
the Los Angeles paper." He did not
go on for some moments, then he
said: "What Chesebro did or said
to Elsa that so enraged her inter
ests me very much too. The knife
that killed Chesebro is a clue I'd
like to discover."
"Are those all?" I asked when he
ceased speaking.
He did not reply at once. I felt
that something had come over him,
some new thought had struck him.
In the darkness that shrouded us
I could sense that he was vitally
alive to something, some new phase
of our problem which had electrified
him. I waited with growing im
patience, afraid to startle him with
any word of mine.
"Barry—the black sombrero!" he
said suddenly. He didn't speak again
for several moments, then he said:
"There's an amazing story here! In
credible! I see it only dimly yet."
Inside Berta, Margaret and
Dwight were attempting a three
handed fame of bridge—killing slow
time, as ft were, in the hope that
tomorrow would be a brighter day.
Rogers, no?v that I could observe
hrtn In the light of the living room
lamps, betrayed none of that impul
sive energy which in the darkness I
fancied he possessed. He was as
casual as if he had tired of being
out of doors and had come inside
for company. He walked about the
table, examining the cards each of
the players held. Margaret was
playing the hand. She finessed
through Dwight.
"Scnora," began Rogers address
ing Berta abruptly, "did you not
come ashore from the Orizaba that
evening prior to our fishing trip?"
"Yes, senor," she replied after a
moment's hesitation. "But only to
the—the muelle—the wharf, with Ar
turo."
"Yes?"
"It is because I have forgotten a
promise, senor, to my husband. I
shotild bring his fishing things, his
harness, and his belt and knife. And
I forgot. When I remember it I go
ashore to find somebody to send
with a note to the rancho for them."
"Did you find someone?"
"(Jh, yes. Two boys. I send them
In a taxi."
"Did you wait for their return?"
"tfo, senor. I go back to the boat
and Arturo brings the things to me
later."
"Did you see Senor Rumble on
the wharf, senora?"
"No, senor. I see no one."
"What time was it?"
"That Ido not know, senor. I do
not think it is very late."
The cards by now were aban
doned and the players moved to
more comfortable chairs. Doctor
Crilz appeared in the doorway and
behind him Lombardo. They came
in and we greeted them. I won
dered what their mission was. Rog
ers continued to stand. His gaze
was restless; he seemed to fix upon
Elsh's small black hat, which still
lay on the table against the wall,
with a sort of satisfaction, although
I cdUldn't understand why.
"HJlsa has retired?" he inquired.
"Oh, no; she and Reed are around
•omewhere," Margaret answered.
At that moment Elsa, followed by
Reed Barton, appeared at the study
door.
"Did I hear my name men
tioned?" she called.
"Hunt Rogers was worrying about
you," I said.
"But I wasn't," Rogers objected.
"I merely inquired what had be
come of you. I'd not seen you since
dinner."
In the brief moments of this con
versation, Rogers had walked a few
steps toward Elsa. The table where
her hat lay was close at hand. He
reached out of a sudden and picked
up the quirt which lay partly con
cealed underneath it, and held it up
before his eyes as if studying the
knob with the carved head. Elsa
continued to walk toward him.
Somehow Rogera had managed to
center our gaze upon what he was
doing. I found myself staring slight
ly at the quirt. It brought back to
mind that vivid scene of Elsa rac
ing madly toward the house, of her
bout suddenly checked and th* de
THE DANBURY REPORTER. DANBURY. N. C.. THURSDAY. JUNE I. IM4
scending lash upon the unsuspect
ing Cliescbro. Elsa's eyes were now
fixed upon what Rogers was doing;
a sort of fascination gripped her.
"I've been wondering," said Rog
ers with a faint smile, "what I
might find concealed in this thing."
He twisted at the knob. It was the
wrong way. He reversed the pres
sure, and the knob slipped slightly
like a screw. To my amazement
he pulled the knob loose from the
handle of the quirt, drawing with it
from its concealment a long, thin
bladed knife of finely tempered
steel.
"You must have had a very great
provocation that morning to mur
der." Rogers' voice hardened a
trifle.
"More than you realize," Elsa
flashed. She seemed to stand tall
er, her gray eyes turned full upon
Rogers.
"If I had to guess what that provo
cation was," began Rogers, as if he
were feeling his way into a dark
room and would welcome a light,
"I should hazard that it had some
thing to do with the picture of you
and the baby." He paused for a
fraction of a second, as if giving
Elsa an opportunity to speak, then
went on: "The child bore a very
strong likeness io Jimmy the
Cheese. I assume that he was the
father."
"You are correct," said Elsa with
dignity.
"George Rumble, after the picture
of you and the child appeared in
the paper, told me something which
rather cleared him of any intent of
wrongdoing," Rogers went on. "He
said lie first saw that picture of you
and the baby at your Aunt Kitty's.
"Barry—the black sombrero!"
He asked her about it and your aunt
told him that it was your baby—"
"She lied!" Elsa flashed. "I'm not
the mother of that babyl" she said
fiercely. She added more softly:
"I'm glad, though, you told me
how George got his information. I
never asked him."
Something like a sigh of relief
seemed to stir in the room. Elsa
stood firmly, defiantly before Rog
ers, flanked by Reed Barton. Berta
sat forward in her seat, an eagerness
in her manner, something trembling
on her lips. Rogers asked, "Who
was the mother, Elsa?"
"Aunt Kitty!"
"Please, may I say something?"
said Berta quickly.
"Of course, scnora," Rogers
turned to her.
"There are some things I should
tell," she began in her precise Eng
lish. "Elsa does not know I know
these facts; my husband did not
know I had so much knowledge. But
my cousin, Maria Mendez, who is a
nurse at the hospital, told me. Aunt
Kitty's child was born in the hos
pital here at Mazatlan. She came
secretly here, wanting to be near
her brother, and yet for some
strange reason not telling him she
was even in the town until after the
child was born.
"Later, on a steamer day, she
sent word, pretending that she had
come ashore for the few hours the
steamer stopped. She explained the
child by saying its mother had died
at sea and she expected to adopt it.
Sam went to see her," Berta went
on rapidly, a deep fire in her eyes.
"She would not come to the rancho,
because of me. She would not even
permit him to tell me anything
about her being here at the time.
Only after Maria had told me later
something of what had happened,
did I learn about it from Sam. But
he made me promise never to talk
of It. Things, of course"—she ges
tured vehemently with her small,
ivory-tinted hands—"are different
now. It is time to talk."
"You are right, Scnora Chatfleld,"
said Rogers. "It is time to talk."
He turned to Elsa, a questioning look
in his mild blue eyes, and seemed
to wait for some word from her.
Elsa had listened to Bcrta without
a change of expression. She now
looked at Rogers stesdily, her level
gray eyes fixed' upon his; the linej
had smoothed ftut of her face; her
voice when next" she spoke was quite
calm.
"Perhaps you're right, both of
you," she said. "Having kept still
so long, however, It really makes lit
tle difference with me now." She
continued to stand before Rogers as
if answering to him, ignoring the
others who sat silently in their
chairs.
"I ran away from school in the
East. I went to New York, be
cause I'd decided to be an artist.
Father knew what I'd done and aft
proved it. I didn't tell Aunt Kitty
and she didn't know where I was.
After I'd been there nearly a year
father one day telegraphed me that
Aunt Kitty needed me. That was
the first mistake. She never need
ed anybody. But just the same I
flew to San Francisco. I was seven
teen, and I didn't have any sense."
Rogers interrupted her. "Won't
you sit down, Elsa?"
She smiled at him. "No, thank
you," she answered, continuing to
stand easily before us. "I met Aunt
Kitty when she got off the boat with
the baby. Father had written me
at San Francisco, telling me what
he believed was the truth. I'd had
only the telegram. Of course, I
was sort of stunned; nothing like
this had ever happened to our fam
ily. I was very frank to say so;
she had it coming to her after the
way she'd brought me up. Aunt Kit
ty turned on me so fiercely I thought
she was going to strike me. She
denied it was her child. She said
Father had lied to me. It was a
baby she was going to adopt. But
I stuck to the point like the little
fool I was. I threatened to kidnap
the child and go home with it and
announce it as my own, just to
shame her. That was the second
mistake. I didn't carry out my
threat, but it was only because I
couldn't get the child away from
her."
"You returned home together,
then, you and your aunt?" Rogers
suggested.
"Yes. I'd used up all my money
in going to San Francisco, and fa
ther couldn't send me any more at
that time. Aunt Kitty would not
give me any to go back to New
York. She'd buy me anything I
wanted, though, in the way of cloth
ing. She'd never been really gen
erous. I couldn't understand it now.
I thought before this that I'd hated
her, but we were really only begin
ning to hate each other.
"Then one day I woke up to what
had happened to me. Odd how you
can be the center of gossip and
never hear a whisper of it. It's like
being in the center of a hurricane,
everything is so quiet. Months had
passed before the maid one day said
something to me about 'my baby.'
I was furious. I went to Aunt Kitty.
She laughed. 'The whole town thinks
it's yours,' she said. She laughed
again. 'And it's going to be yours.
You can't prove it's not. You ran
away from school, so the school
authorities can't help you deny it.
It comes down to your word and
mine, and mine will be believed be
fore yours. So what?'
"There I was," said Elsa simply.
"What could I do? She had me, and
I knew it. So all I could do was to
go on hating her more and more.
When the baby died—it didn't makq
any difference. I could only go on
as I had been going, hating her with
every breath I drew, and hoping to
live it down some day."
"Tell me now about Chesebro and
what happened the other day," in
structed Rogers matter-of-factly.
Elsa laughed shortly, but ther*
was no mirth in her voice. "Elsa,
the brilliant caricaturist," she said
sarcastically, "never saw that re
semblance in the child to Jimmy
the Cheese. She hart to be told by
Jimmy himself in one of his sev
eral fantastic proposals of mar
riage." There was a tittge of scorn
in her voice. "He'd m?de advances
to me in his elephanfiA* way ever
since Aunt Kitty's deatb. He didn't
seem to mean it until a short time
ago. I detested him and t told him
so. Then came that picture in tbe
paper. He was very contrite that
day we went for a ride. He begged
a thousand pardons; he groveled
before me— literally. Finally he
startled me with the statement that
he was the father of the child, and
before he was through gabbling ha
admitted that it was his idea origi
nally and not Aunt Kitty's that the
gossip be started at home that tha
child was mine." Elsa's voica
ceased for a moment and then took
up again in a quiet, dead level tone.
For several moments none of us
realized just what we had heard, or
that Elsa had reached the end ol
her recital. There had been no bit
terness in her tone at any time, ne
emotion until she had come t«
Chesebro, when something of thai
Immense anger she had shown on
that day she turned se savagely upon
the man who had bean at the bottom
of all of her troubles glowed in th
fiery pinpoints in her eyes. Rogerr
voice startled me when he finally
spoke.
"You make that statement of youl
own free will, do you, Elsa?"
"Why, yes, of course."
(TO BE CONTINUED!
IMPROVED
UNIFORM INTERNATIONAL
SUNDAY I
CHOOL Lesson
By HAROLD L. LUNDQUIST, D. D.
Of The Moody Bible Institute of Chicago.
Released by Western Newspaper Union.
Lesson for June 4
Lesson subjects and Scripture texts «e- '
rected and copyrighted by International :
Counrll of Religious Education; used by
permission.
PAUL IN EPHESUS
LESSON TEXT—Acts 19:810; Epheslani
2 410; 3:14-19.
GOLDEN TEXT—\\> are his workman
ship, created In Christ Jesus for good works,
which God afore prepared that we should
walk In them.—Ephesians 2:10.
Not peace—but a sword! With
such graphic words Jesus indicated
that His coming into the> world
would set men apart, either for or
against Him (see Matt. 10:34-42).
The gospel is the good news of re
demption for all mankind, but the
attitude of men toward the gospel
divides them sharply, into the saved
and the lost. Which are you?
Our lesson, telling of Paul's min
istry at Ephesus and giving part of
his letter to the Ephesians, shows
that the gospel does divide, but that
it also gives quickening grace and
strength for Christian living.
I. Dividing (Acts 19:8-10).
Paul had a long ministry at Ephe
sus and a very successful one, but
at the same time it was a stormy,
trying experience. After all, do not
those elements often go together?
Paul began in the synagogue. That
was the proper way, and his cus
tom. He ran into opposition, and
after three months he had to seek
another place to meet the people.
But notice, he did not give up and
leave town.
The teaching of any truth results
in division, and especially is that
true of the gospel. It was found
before long (vv. 23-4!) that winning
people to Christ interfered with the
heathen business interests, and then
things began to stir.
One wonders why modern busi
ness set for the destruction of men's
souls by rotten plays, movies, books,
amusements, and by the saloon is so
content to let the church alone. Is
It because our testimony does not
harm their business? If so, we are
certainly not walking in the foot
steps of Paul or of Christ.
Christ is a divider of men. Yes,
but those who stand on the right
side of that divide also receive
11. Quickening (Eph. 2:4-10)
Dead men, spiritually, come to life
when they meet Christ and believe
on Him. We were all dead in tres
passes and sins, entirely unable to
help ourselves, when God in mercy
and grace quickened us.
He did this for us, but also for
His own glory. That really is the
most p.dequate explanation of grace.
It was and is for His glory, a show
ing forth (v. 7) of the exceeding
riches of His grace, through all the
ages to come.
Being saved, then, is not (as some
describe it) a foolish thing of little
import, that takes place in some mis
sion or little crossroads Sunday
school. It does happen there, thank
God for that, but it reaches clear
up to the highest heavens, and on
into all eternity. This business of
bringing men and women, boys and
girls to Christ is the greatest of all
occupations. Let's be busy about it!
Be sure to note in verses 8-10 that
it is all of grace. No works can
enter into salvation. We are "his
workmanship," not the result of a
cooperative enterprise or creation.
But at the same time do not fail
to stress that we are created "unto
good works" (v. 10). The professed
Christian who talks about being
saved by grace, but who does not
live it out in the good works which
God has ordained as the proper ex
pression of salvation by grace,
should not be surprised if the testi
mony of his lips is not believed.
If we are quickened to newness
of life in Christ, we ought to bring
forth fruit. That is not possible in
our own puny strength. But wait,
the gospel which divides and quick
ens is also—
111. Strengthening (Eph. 3:14-19)
Paul prayed for the Ephesians,
but somehow one feels that he
prayed for the Ciiristians of all time,
for every member of "the whole
family in heaven a.id earth" (v. 15)
who bear the name of Christ. The
writer is rejoicing today that he be
longs to that family, but he wonders
how it is with you who read these
lines. Do you belong?
Paul prayed in the Spirit, that is
evident as one reads these sublime
words. It is a comforting and en
couraging thought, too, for Paul here
asks for a Christian experience foi
his readers, which seems quite im
possible of attainment, except foi
one thing. It is the power of God
which is to bring it about. Prayei
in the Spirit is prayer that God an
swers, always and fully.
So we read with confidence thest
magnificent, enriching petitions, ana
we say: "O God, make me that kind
of a Christian, a real Christian."
Observe that there is to be i
strengthening of the inward man bj
the Holy Spirit. This is not some
thing "put on" or acquired. It ii
God's gift.
Note also that it has a normal
development, a growth in the knowl
edge of Christ because of an abilitj
to "comprehend" (v. 18). Is no'
that our great need' We are un
spoakably rich in Christ, but we d
not seem to know enough to take
out our inheritance.
i,w_
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As LATE AS 1867, BOTH EUROPEANS AND
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