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I MERCHANTS •Your Advertising Dollar bays something more than space and circulation in the columns oi this news* paper. It buys space and circulation plus the favor able consideration of our ■eaders for this newspaper and its advertising patrons. LET US TELL YOU MORE ABOUT IT FJ, CHAPTER XVll—Continued —ls— a trick!" Virgie cried. "Tom wouldn't sign away his stock. He didn't know what he was signing. He told me so. You tricked him—a helpless old man—in prison I" "I assure you, Mrs. Morgan, that every document was carefully read to Mr. Pruitt." "What of it? He wouldn't under stand. He was scared and numb— you can scare Tom to death with a legal paper. You tricked him! He would have killed all of you before he'd give up his stock in this mill!" "I can believe that. Mr. Pruitt's mania for homicide must be embar rassing to you. But—we do not trick people, Mrs. Morgan. We find it unnecessary." The oily voice ran like horrid fingers over her. "So, if you will read this order, please? You will notice that you are directed by Mr. Pruitt, as the custodian of his stocks and property, to deliver to me fifty shares of Morgan mill stock, to the amount of fifty thousand dol lars par value—" "I won't deliver it. I'll fight you through every court in this coun try first!" "Of course, you understand that that attitude is quite futile. We can compel you to deliver the stock, Mrs. Morgan. We can bring an officer here with a writ—" "Bring a dozen officers—if you can find one who'll serve a writ against me!" "You exaggerate your importance and your invulnerability, I fear. The stock will be taken to Mr. Pruitt for signature to transfer—" "Transfer to whom?" "Mr. Withers has contracted to purchase it, I understand." "I thought so." "Look here, Virgie, you're wast ing your breath," Wallace put in. "This is all settled. You can't do a thing about it." "I'll see about that." "I reckon we'll have to fetch a constable." Wallace mustered pious patience with an obdurate woman. "She's hard-headed. Talk won't be any use. She keeps it in that safe—" "How do you know where I keep it?" Virgie flashed at him. "I sup pose you've got some more spies on my pay-roll? Your Mr. Daniels has done pretty well. I suppose you set those fires yourself?" "You are being very unreasona ble, Mrs. Morgan," soothed the law yer. "We are being very lenient with Mr. Pruitt. My client has been per manently injured without justifica tion or excuse—" "You might as well hush," de clared Withers patiently. "Come along and we'll fetch somebody she will listen to." The door banged behind them. Virgie stood still in the middle of the room, still shaking with white rage. "The thieves!" she muttered. They would be back presently, with some country constable, who would turn red when she looked at him, but who would drag from an unsavory pocket a paper with the seal of a magistrate upon it, and compel her to open the safe. A sudden thought came to her. Swiftly she bent and twirled the combination of the safe. The heavy door moved open slowly, and she flung it back and unlocked the in ner compartment. Flat, taped bun dles of paper slid out into her hand. She sat on the floor, turning them over rapidly. All the papers on the Hazel Fork property—she knew those well, she had had them out the day before with Wills. Her own stock in the mill tied in an envelope —she counted the shares. All there. But—that was all! Twice she turned over the entire contents of the compartment. Then in a panic flurry she pulled every thing out—old ledgers, old bills, con tracts, and leases. Papers that Da vid had filed, papers she herself had put carefully away; tax receipts, deeds to timber lands, insurance policies, she unfolded each, shook it, opened and shook every book, searched frantically. Tom's stock—and Marian's—was gone! But—how—who— No one But Lucy knew the com bination. Lucy and Tom. And Tom was locked in jail. She was still sitting there, shak ing out papers, staring at the empty spaces in the safe when the door opened. She started, then saw that it was Marian who stood there. "Mother! What has happened?" Marian exclaimed. Virgie tied a tape with cold fingers "We've been robbed," she said! "A lawyer came—Wallace was with him. They tricked Tom into signing away his stock last night. They're coming back with an officer to make me give it up. And—it isn't here! It's gone. And your stock—the stock your father left for you—is gone, tool" Marian closed the door, slid the bolt. "Mother—get up—and sit down here. You're white as a sheet. You're shaking all over." "I can't sit down. They'll be here any minute. They won't believe me. Some fool took it, I suppose—some of the sneaks who've been working for Wallace. It couldn't be Lucy—" "Oh, no—not Lucy—" "She knows enough to know that the stock's useless until it's signed over. But—nobody else knew , the combination." "Tom knew it. And—l know it." TMK; n ANBURY RWPOWTWR. THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 1941 Hawk-Wind [XI DV UP. ru TAnnuir uu itn ©&APPUTON-CCNTUIY CO. BY HELEN TOPPING MILLER w-N-u service IP "You?" "Tom wrote it down for me. Moth er—sit here and let me bring you some cold water. The stock isn't gone, Mother. It's safe. I took it." Virgie sank limply into the old chair that had been David's. "You took it?" "I took it over to the court-house. To be registered. Tom signed it over to me—a week ago. It's mine. He couldn't give it to anyone else— because he has already signed it over to me. He was going to leave it to me—in his will. He told me so. And I saw the will. He left it here with Lucy that day—when he went up to Hazel Fork. Tom wanted me to have it. So—the last time I went to the jail, he was worrying about it. And—l wanted that stock, Mother—l'm ashamed to tell you why I wanted it. I wanted to con trol the mill. I wanted to make you fire Branford Wills—and now—l'm ashamed! But—the stock is safe. They can't touch it." Virgie's hands fell limply. "Pick up that mess," she muttered, sag ging back in her chair. "I give up." "Here—drink this—" "I'm all right. It's just—too much has been happening behind my back. Even you—" "f told you I was ashamed. But anyway, we saved Tom's stock. Maybe we can beat them yet." Virgie looked numbly at her child. David's child—with her finely cut profile, her dark eyes and resolute mouth. Gallant and splendid—and indomitable. Like David. "So—you own the mill!" she said. "Are you angry, Mother?" "I don't know. It was a shrewd thing to do. Your father would have thought of it. I—seem not to think of things—soon enough." "You're wonderful, Mother. I don't want to run the mill. I couldn't. I'm not wise enough or strong enough." "I seem not to be wise, either. Lock the safe, Baby—those men will be back." "They're coming now. It looks like an army." No one noticed Lucy, coming in at the back door, because so many peo ple were entering by the front way. Lucy's eyes were blazing and a little wild. Her chin had a dogged angle, and scarlet coins burned in her cheeks. She looked younger, lighter, aglow with a sort of fan tastic triumph, almost defiant. She pulled out her chair, then waited as the odd procession filed in. "Mr.' Payne," the lawyer intro duced the newcomers, "and Mr. Hooper. And this officer, I suppose, you know?" The shambling constable, looking awkward and on fire with curiosity jerked at his hat and said, "Howdy, Mis' Morgan." "Hello, Ed," greeted Virgie. "You travel in poor company." "This here is somethin' I got to do," fumbled Ed. "I ain't so set on it—but you know how things is—" "Go ahead," ordered Virgie, curtly. Ed rummaged out his paper. Wal lace Withers pulled out his heavy old watch and ran his thumb over the crystal, thudded it back again. Lucy's eyes were big and anxious. Only Marian stood calm, smiling a one-sided smile. "I got an order here," began Ed, "for some stock—belongs to Tom Pruitt—" "Go on and serve the paper," snapped Withers, "I got to get home. It's most time to milk." "Don't bother, Ed," Virgie said, "I know what's in that paper. It won't do you any good to read it to me. These gentlemen—and their at torney—are very astute. They know exactly what they are doing. You investigated the ownership of this stock, I suppose, gentlemen?" "Certainly!" snapped the man Payne. "You're just stalling, Virgie—and it won't do you a bit of good." "I'm not trying to do myself any good, Wallace. I'm doing you good. You got that order by fraud—and I can prove it. That might not sound so well in court—" "We got it square—Pruitt knew what he was doing. He knew he was signing away his stock—he had to save himself." "Sounds funny," Virgie's voice drawled. "I've known Tom a long time. He was a shrewd old moun tain man. He knew what he was doing most of the time—except when he lost his head because he was be ing robbed. It's hard to believe he'd sign an order to deliver that stock to you—yesterday, that was? —when he had already transferred it—a week ago!" "I don't believe it!" barked With ers. "The transfer is recorded. You can see the record at the court house. That will be about all today, gentlemen—" Virgie drew herself up superbly. "No—not quite all," said a quiet voice from the door. Branford Wills stood there, lean and calm and tall, a folded paper in his hand. "Mr. Payne, I assume?" he said. "And Mr. Hooper? I have just come from Hazel Fork, gentlemen—" The lawyer interrupted. "This, is another matter, sir. We do not know you." "I am employed by Mrs. Morgan. My name is Wills—formerly with the National Park Commission. I have been investigating the area on Hazel Fork—upon which I under stand you gentlemen, all of you, in tend beginning some extensive op erations in lumber and pulp wood?" "What's your business?" demand ed Withers. "If you've been inter ferin' up there, Virgie Morgan—" "Mrs. Morgan has not been inter fering," Wills said. "Mrs. Morgan knows nothing about this. I happen to be a government cartographer, formerly, as I have said, with the Park Commission. I made the road maps for that area. There has been, evidently, some confusion and delay in surveys and condemnation suits —owing to the confused condition of the title to the land—a condition you gentlemen were very quick to take advantage of, but—l would not advise you to begin timbering opera tions on that land, gentlemen—now or ever!" "You're very smart, young fel low," snapped the man Hooper, "but I happen to have a court order that allows me to timber that area to satisfy my claims and those of my associates. Do you think I'd be fool enough to invest money in a propo sition like that if I didn't know what I was doing?" "Unfortunately," Wills smiled a slow, dry smile, "I do not know what sort of a fool you are, Mr. Hooper, I am merely advising you "Yon tricked him—a helpless old man—in prison!" for your own good. I have sent to Washington for plats and surveys for confirmation of what I know to be the truth—they should arrive by Monday. But—l happen to know that I am right. I went over the land today to be sure. I do not think you will cut any timber on the land formerly belonging to Tom Pruitt." "What are you crashing in here for, anyway?" demanded Wallace Withers, angrily. "And what are you getting at, anyhow?" "I'm advising you not to cut tim ber on Hazel Fork, Mr. Withers— you nor anyone else. Of course, I can't prevent you—but I can bring it to the attention of people who can prevent you— That land up there, gentlemen, belongs to the people of the United States." "You're a meddling young fool!" stormed Withers. "What do you know about it?" "Perhaps," suggested the lawyer uneasily, "it might be well to look into this matter, gentlemen." "We'll look into it. And we'll look into that stock transaction, too. It has a fishy sound to me." "By all means investigate thor oughly. You'll find—as I found, gen tlemen—that that area of land up there is included in the boundaries of the National Park. Probably the condemnation suits to establish own ership are lost somewhere in the maze of otlier lawsuits and claims that have been filed on the property. But I wouldn't advise you to cut any timber there till you have satis fied yourself where the boundary lies. It's easy to take timber away from old men—and to rob women— but don't try it on the Government of the United States, gentlemen. That will be all. Good afternoon." Lucy let her breath out slowly as the procession filed out the door. "It's like the movies!" she gasped. Wills was standing still, tall and lean and purposeful, in the middle of the room. "There are some things to be set tled," he said. "We may as well finish it. Withers planned all this sabotage to force you to sell. But he had help. Men inside the mill. Brains inside the mill. He had Mr. Stanley Daniels." "No!" The choky cry came from Lucy. "No—it isn't true." "I'm sorry—it's true. I've been doing some investigating, Mrs. Mor gan." "They framed him," wailed Lucy. "Old Wallace Withers asked him— Stanley, I mean—if there was any chemical that would destroy pulp and Stanley told him. And then the pulp was ruined—and Wallace With ers threatened to tell Mrs. Morgan that Stanley did it unless he gave up his job." "Why doesn't he come here to speak for himself, if that's true?" Wills asked. "Because," said Lucy faintly, "I've got him—locked up. He was going to leave. He didn't do it. He was a fool—but he isn't crooked. I locked him up. Shall I let him out, Mrs. Morgan?" Virgie's smile crinkled her face and she burst into a sudden laugh. "No—don't let him out, Lucy. Keep him there till he realizes what a grand girl you are. Keep him there till he melts." Lucy smiled and.it was as though a candle had been lighted behind her eyes. "I think he's—melting, Mrs. Mor gan!" "It's raining," Marian said sud denly aloud. "Rain and sleet. I'd better take you home, Mother—it's going to be a dreadful night." And then the telephone rang. Mar ian answered it, said, "Mother!" faintly, handed the instrument to Virgie, the color draining out of her face. Virgie barked, "What did you say, how? Who came there? You say he took your gun?" She hung up slowly, sitting rigid and aghast. "Tom has escaped!" "When? How? How could he?" "Lon says he got away thirty min utes ago. They don't know how. He took Lon's gun." "But—he'll freeze—on a night like this! We'll have to find him, Moth er—" "Yes—we'll have to find him." Vir gie looked at Wills. "Lon says that Wallace Withers was over there to day. Tom has found out who it is that has been plotting to ruin us. He's a mountain man—" "We'll go," Wills said. "They'll look for him, of course?" "Lon said he was sending some of the boys out. They won't know where to go. I know where Tom will go." Virgie's face was heavy with trouble as she twisted into her heavy coat. "I'm going, too," Marian said abruptly. "It's going to be an ugly night," Virgie objected. "You'd better go home before it freezes." "Mother—l'm going. Tell Frank to put the chains on." "Wrap yourself up then. Lucy, you stay here by the 'phone. If Lon calls tell him we're out on a hunt— if we find Tom we'll bring him in." Wills drove and Marian huddled in the middle of the single seat of Virgie's old car. Freezing rain spat ted on the roof, coated the wind shield. The light failed with the swift completeness of mountain night. Wills got out to scrub the wind-shield clean. The wheels slewed on the curves in spite of the chains and Virgie's profile, against the dim light, was granite and grim. "Drive on," she said. "I'll tell you when to turn." "He wouldn't take the road, Moth er," Marian worried. "And even if we met him we couldn't see him." "Drive on," said Virgie, flatly. They passed a looming mill and a curve where a waterfall came down, roaring and splashing under a high bridge. "Left—at the next road," said Virgie. "Mother—" an edge of panic was in Marian's voice. "You don't think—" "I know!" said Virgie, soberly. "They were over there—Wallace and the others. Tom didn't know before who was working against us —but now tie knows. Take it slow, Wills—this road is dirt and it'll be slippery." "It's freezing a little. The chains hold. I can go faster if it won't make you nervous." Marian huddled, small and fright ened, under Branford Wills' elbow, her head in a snug beret, scarcely reaching his shoulder. Once he looked around and gave her a scrap of smile, in the dim light from the dash, but she was looking solemnly and searchingly ahead. "How awful—to be wandering around in the hills on a night like thisl" she said. "Poor old Tom!" "I know how awful it can be," Wills agreed. "I had two nights of it. There's so much sky and black air and empty wind and savage dark around you—and you feel a sort of hatred in it—as though it would kill you if it could. And the branches reach out and snatch and almost snarl—and boulders and roots trip you up—and the wind gathers up handfuls of ice and flings them in your face." "And you were lost!" said Marian in a small, frail voice. He looked down at her. "I'm still lost," he said, levelly. Virgie cleared her throat. "I'm here," she reminded them, "but I'm old and my hearing isn't what it used to be." "Tom wouldn't be lost." Marian essayed the commonplace again. "He knows his way anywhere in these mountains—no matter how dark it might be." The river was alongside now, dark and noisy and hidden by the whirl* ing dash of sleety rain. Trees hung low, and the darkness grew thicker; it brooded and was hostile and fear some. Marian clutched a sleeve and laid her face against it. Wind shook the old car fiercely, but the wheels dug and spun and plowed on. Once a frightened rabbit leaped through the darting steel rods of the rain, its eyes green and terrified. Ice was glassy on the ''hood, the wind-shield wiper gouged a feeble arc and then failed. (TO BE CONTINUED) PatteraNo. 2588 EVERYONE'S favorite, these, *- J modern, easy-to-do designs.! Embroider them on towel or pil low case and let your needlework/ score a hit. • • • Pattern 2588 contains a transfer pattern of 12 motifs averaging 4','s by 6'/a Inches; I color schemes; materials required; Illus trations of stitches. Send order to: J Sewing Circle Needlecraft Dept. 82 Eighth Ave. New York j Enclose 15 cents In coins for Pat- ' tern No Name I Address j INDIGESTION may afact tba Heart Ou tapped in the stomach or gullet may act like a halr-tr lifer on the beirt. 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The Danbury Reporter (Danbury, N.C.)
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Feb. 20, 1941, edition 1
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