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sgg-' rPy„ fH&iM - Bradley WMU. SERVICE.i C. Amt” CHAPTER VII—Continued There were three people, I thought, on whom suspicion might Justifiably refet; there were the Prince and Princess Ranclnl and Letty Van Alstyn, but there was not a scrap of evidence against any ef them. No, there were four. I had to be honest with myself; I couldn't pre tend. There was Alan Deck. And against him was all the evidence they had. I wanted to see Deck. I wanted to talk, with him. Not here, with Clancy at hand—yes, here, even though we could say nothing that mattered. If I could see him again, I thought I could find an answer to that worrying uncertainty In me. The testing was a difficult busi ness. The handkerchief had been so thoroughly washed that I began to despair of uncertainty in my ex periments. Not about the rust marks; those I did make sure of. Then, In one of the corners, close under the fold of the hemstitched tiem, I found traces of stain that yielded a blood reaction. “That's blood," I said. In the Intervals of waiting and drying I walked up and down the gallery. I found myself wishing to get at the records of these pictures to be gin the real work for which I had come. For a few moments I forgot the nightmare of that murder. I grinned at a Magdalen, attributed to Titian, analogous to the one at Naples, and then I was caught by a lovely little Virgin whose sup pliant, adoring curves and pure, poignant ecstasy made me yearn to prove her the creation of Angelico that she was labeled. As my mind bit op these familiar realities my nerves steadied, and when I went down with the police man to make my report I was feel ing more like myself. Alan Deck was with Monty MltcbeU, and when he saw me he came forward quickly, with a “Good morning, accomplice I" In his mock ing way.' Monty said, “Find any thing?.’’ And they both came with me while I had my moment of Im portance, making my report to Don ahey. I nsed all the words and tech nical terms that I thought he would not know but the main facts were dear—blood In one comer, and five tnarks of rust Donabey nodded, as If he had guessed It all the time, and I moved away with Deck. Mitchell stayed with the Inspector: I remember see ing him turn tbe handkerchief about very slowly in his hands. Deck said thoughtfully. “That Mood rather disposes of the theory that the diamonds might have been put there by some one who Just picked them up—afterwards." And at my assent he said, “Well, that’s that!” In a hard voice. Grant now appeared before us, announcing that a buffet luncheon was being served In the dining room. As I went to wash'iny stained fingers I saw Miss Tan Alstyn In the hall ahead of me. As she paused at her door, opposite that closed door behind which Nora Harrlden -was lying, I saw the maid, Anson stop her, holding something In her hand. “Yes, I threw It away,” I heard Miss Van Alstyn say. “It’s broken —throw It out." “It’s so pretty," Anson murmured. “U you don’t mind my keeping It—” "As yon like,” said Miss van Al •tyn Indifferently and disappeared Into her room. Out of an Impulse of friendliness far that pretty Anson I turned and •rked her what she bad. "It's for the hair, miss, only the comb Is broken," she told me. "May be I could get another fixed on. It’s «o pretty—" It was pretty—a sharp-pointed crescent abont four or five Inches tong, glittering with bright brown intones. The comb, at right angles to the crescent, had been broken sharp ly off. I picked It up; It seemed a little large and too heavy for anywhere except the back of the head, abbve a froth of curls. It was of some solid brown metal and I thought another comb could easily be soldered on. "It's worth It," I told Anson, and she said she had been afraid to carry it away without asking, for fear It had fallen In the basket by mistake. I was reflecting that costume Jewelry, to Miss Van Alstyn, was not worth repairing, and then, star ing at those bard, pointed ends, that •olid metal— If a woman bad a thing like this la her hands ... If she struck out with It furiously. . . . "V\ fen did you find this, Anson 1” Last night, she told me. When she had been arranging the room for the night “Were the broken pieces of the comb In the basket too.” “I did see some broken pieces. But they fcent with the trash. They couldn’t have been fixed.” “With the trash? Where did the trash go?” “Why, In the Incinerator, Miss,” she answered, eyes widening at my questions. “And was the Incinerator going?” “Last night miss? I couldn’t say. I know it hasn't been going this morning for that policeman gave orders not to have anything burned.” I turned the crescent about. No sign of a blood film over any of Its brightness—but blood could be su perficially washed off In running water. A blow with It a Jab with one of those viciously pointed ends, would have broken oft the comb. . .. She might not have thought to wash off the pieces of the comb. . . . In Imagination I saw Letty Van Alstyn snatching this crescent from her hair, striking out recklessly. .. . Anson was staring at me; I hand ed it back to her, saying some thing about my Interest in Imita tions to excuse my absorption In it. . . . Letty Van Alstyn came out of her room, passing down t» lunch eon, and In the vague smile she swept over us I felt a sharpening of curiosity. Scrubbing my stained fingers, brushing out my hair, I tried to fit the pieces together in this pat tern. ... Suppose Letty were guilty —how about that scene at the win dow! Well, that could have had nothing to do with the actual mur der—it might have been Deck, or Randnl or Harrlden for all his de nials. . . . Suppose It had been Harrlden. Suppose he had gone on down to dinner, and Nora had been In bed, resentful, hysterical, when Letty had dropped in on her way down. Nora might have surmised that Letty had been stirring up Dan’s jealousy, so there was every reason for a scene between them. A ter rific scene. In which Letty, in blind rage or In self protection had struck out with the first thing at hand.. . . I had to Imagine her picking up one of Dan’s handkerchiefs to wipe off the blood . . . thrusting Nora Into the closet . . . waiting till she was sure the rest were down at dinner, then putting her out the window. Perhaps the blood-stained handkerchief had been a crumpled ball In Letty’s brown bag and after dinner she had gone up to wash It out—that was when she had met me In the hall, outside Mrs, Har rlden’s door. Perhaps the yellow diamonds had been In Letty’s brown bag, too. And Ths Princa Ranclni Walked By. late tbat night—or rather early in the morning—ehe had torn the Ini tiate out of the dried handkerchief and stolen np to my room. The pieces fitted together. I thought, excitedly. But there was nothing in the world to sustain tbat wild suspicion but my vivid Imagination—nothing unless there should be blood upon the piece of broken comb in the incinerator. I fairly raced down, then, to the buffet luncheon, eager to pour this out to Mitchell. Mitchell was busily filling a plate so 1 went over to him. Bis eyes looked darker and more alert than ever; his black hair, which began quite far back on his forehead, was standing np hi an excited crest We sat down at a corner of the table— he hated eating la his lap, be de clared—and under my breath 1 poured oat my conjectural Promptly he dashed my hopes. "Incinerator been going for an hotir. Donahey let them start It up when he saw there wasn’t any rags there —Just trash and garbage. Did you keep the crescent?" When I said I hadn’t, be advised me to get It and test It for blood. But he seemed a little detached. He even said, “I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.” “It was your tree," I told him In dignantly. "Ton thought she would be a guilty soul.” “Oh, a possibility—yes. But some how—” He left It In dubiety. We went on talking. I remember saying about the inquest "Why don’t they have It today and get it over with?” And be said that Dona hey wanted to do more work on the case, wanted enough for an Indict ment, if possible. And be said, “By keeping people herded up like this. In an Isolation camp, he can Induce a state of' nerves that may cause a breakdown. Anything may de velop any moment. That’s psy chology.” After luncheon he had me get my hat and coat and, with Dona hey's permission, he took me out doors and marched me up and down the landscaped road In front of the house where cool winds and sun shine had their tonic effect. The shore was being patrolled by guards to keep reporters and cu riosity seekers from landing, and I had a feeling of being under mar tial law In some Internment camp. Other members of the house-party were out taking exercise, too; the Prince Randnl walked by, very smartly turned out with spats and a cane. After we had passed each other twice be turned, smiling, to ask permission to join us. Without his wife's presence he expanded into gaiety; he seemed to me to be a big, light-hearted pleas ure-loving fellow, with a Conti nental's casual cynicism about life and emotional responsiveness to beauty. He stopped to show us a particularly lovely contrast of light and dark blue In the sea, pointing with his stick, and he told us of his swimming feats at Capri and his skiing records at St Horltz and of his shooting triumphs In Scot land. For a time I was amused at this distraction; no one could have Im agined that we three people, prom enading up and down those stately avenues, chatting of tournaments were three members of an Isolated household darkened by death and shadowed by suspicion. Mitchell said very little—he had small'chance against the prince ex cept through Interruptions. But he created a diversion by suddenly tripping over a root and emitting a succession of fervent damns as he bopped about distressfully. “It’s this confounded ankle—strained It a year ago. May I borrow your stick?” he asked the prince. I thought Banclnl passed It over rather reluctantly. At the time I im agined he fancied It as part of his own costuming. Mitchell leaned on it as he walked along with us, re fusing to return to the house. "Be all right in a second.” Then Banclnl began telling about his palace in Rome that he was do ing over and about his efforts to collect the tapestries and furniture that he had previously sold. I gath ered that he was doing all this with his wife's money. It was when we returned to the house, and Mitchell was passing back the cane, declaring himself completely recovered, that he made a casual-sounding observation. “This Is one of those trick things, isn’t It, prince? Isn't there a spring I feel here—T" “But yes,” said Ranclnl, without the slightest hesitation. “You press this—please take your hands away. I do It—I know this thing. So—like that And out comes this little toy.” What came out was the point of a substantial looking knife, quite a stabbing tool. “Another press and a bayonet," said Ranctnl, laughing. “Quite a toy,” Mitchell comment ed, eyeing It quizzically. “And not such a toy at that In Rome now, the streets are safe, but In Paris, when one is late—In the quarters of a little milliner, per haps—” “With a Jealous lover around the corner,” Monty Mitchell suggested. “SI, si 1” Ranclnl laughed, then under his breath to me he mur mured In swift Italian. “When the heart Is empty one must pass the hours,” and I smiled up at bis smile and asked to see the knife again. I looked hard at Ik The sharp, strong point seemed bright, un stained. CHAPTER VIII MITCHELL said very naturally, “A useful thing, that I A pity Nora Harrlden didn’t have one at hand when that fellow set on her.” Not a quiver of Ranclnt's face, as far as I could see. Perhaps the fact that there wasn't a quiver, that his voice was blandly expressionless meant something. Smoothly be agreed, “It might have made all the difference.” We were back In the house again. Its walls shut upon us, dosing us In to tension and uncertainty and the strain of our own thoughts. Mitchell went off to Donabey, coming back Just for a moment to report that no trace of the pendant bad been found. When I went to Anson to get the crescent, with a little made-up speech about my In terest In imitation stones, she told me that Miss Van Alatyn had asked for it back, giving her lnateed a atar of brilliants. She was Immensely pleased and I Immensely puzzled. Lett? Van Alstyn had been indif ference itself before me as to the fate of that broken ornament Why the sadden, surreptitious change? I tried, on the Impulse, to find her bat she wasn’t in her room; my maid at last located herein the Keller sitting-room, with Mrs. Crane and the two Kellers, playing at bridge. “I don’t think they liked my barg ing in on them, and Miss Tan Al ston looked frankly wondering when I asked for the crescent Yes, she had taken it back, she told me, her eyes reverting to the cards; she rather thought she’d get herself an other one and so didn’t want a du plicate about Certainly I could look at it if I wished; it was some where in her room, she supposed vaguely. “Just ask Anson to find it” I closed the door upon her faint ly breathed bat perfectly audible, “Extraordinary." Bat Anson coaid not find that crescent She promised to bring it op to me when she did. “Maybe she locked it np with her Jewels," she suggested. I decided to wait for the results of Anson's search, and I was so sleepy, after the wakeful night and the walk in the open air that I curled up In my rose cushioned chair for ten minutes and slept for forty. I woke to find Harriden in my room, sitting stolidly there con fronting me with an air of grim scrutiny. I sat up quickly, pulling down my rumpled gray frock and brush ing my hair out of my eyes, staring at him with something very much like fright. Behind him the door was dosed. “You needn’t try to run,” he told me, and I flung back, “Why should I run? What do you want, Mr. Har riden?” “I want to know what you know about all this," he growled at me. His Eyes Looked Mo Through and Through. "You’re In with Deck. I want to know what all that row was about —that row with Elkina—•” His voice fumbled so at the words that I felt a pons of pity for him In spite of all my other feeling. *T never saw Alan Deck until I came here.'* I said and spoke as quietly and gently as I could. “I don't know anything about his af fairs.” * “That’s your story, and you can stick to It before the others. But I want the facts, and I’m prepared to pay for them. And 111 let you off—I’ll let you off whatever trouble those stones have got you in for. If you’ll tell me everything you know.” “I know nothing.” “You know why you went up to my wife’s room last night. You had some reason—even If you saw her slapped you wouldn't go In like that—’* His eyes, grimly skeptical, looked me through and through. “You can’t pull any wool over my eyes. You were meeting Deck be fore dinner. I want to know what he and—wbat he was threatening my wife about He wanted money from her—wasn’t that It? If you never met him before, ag you say, he’s Interested enough in you now to tell you. Your own safety and a good substantial sum of money ought to make you see the light “I’ll give you five thousand—live thousand for a few words. Only no faking. I want the truth.” "You are utterly mistaken In me, Hr. Herrlden," I said steadily. "I couldn’t sell Information If I had It... I know nothing at all of Alan Deck and his secrets. Some one knocked. I called, “Come In,” and the door opened. There stood Alan Deck. At sight of Harrlden he stiffened, then, with assumed naturalness to me, “About those pictures—*” Harrlden got to bis feet; bis eyes flickered from Deck back to me with a malevolent sort of satisfaction. (TO BE CONTINUED) “Oldest Citizen of Brussels” In Brussels travelers always seek out the fountain of th* Mannekln, “the oldest citizen of Brussels.” It stands behind the Hotel de Vllle, at the corner of the Bne de TGtuve, and the figure was cast about the time the Dutch were settling Man hattan. The story goes that It was erected by a citizen who found his lost sen on the spot, in the uncon ventional toes of the statu* At the End of an Engliah Sylvan Path. Prepared by National Geographic Society, , Washington. D. C.—WNU Service. IF ANYONE wants to know the English countryside, let him go house hunting. On such a quest he will discover Nature’s cozy-cor ners that casuals never find. They are everywhere, but as Ingeniously concealed as a bird’s nest There may even be a sign which says, “Dan gerous narrow road. Enter at your own risk.” But that is just the kind of place to Insist upon penetrating. Enter on foot If you are afraid, but the car can squeeze In. You find yourself In one of those Incompara ble roads like tnnnels of living green. Earthen banks of Ivy ahd wild flowers rise ten feet high to be topped by tall trees sprang from the original hedge planted a hun dred years ago. The road keeps you guessing by making such curves that there is no penetrating the se cret of what lies ahead. All at once a gate* Within, a bit of woodland, flower-brightened; be yond that, a sunny garden, moldy mossy walls, lattice windows, creep ers all abloom and reaching to the roof tiles, which are toned from dull red to gentle green by two cen turies of soft rains and sun. Who would not penetrate the wood to gaze closer—especially when armed with a handful of permits from a real estate firm? You pass 'through the bit of flowered wood land gay with' yellow primrose patches and massed bluebells. But on emerging from the screening trees and seeing the open garden lying in the sun and the house form ing a part of It you gasp and halt This is the house of your dreams. A servant appears and explains that the house is to-be-let and is at your service; the lease Is for sixty five years! Exclamation marks rat tle about In your head. Peculiar Rental Customs. You select another house which you consider a perfect gem, only to be told that it Is not available for “Instant possession.” The present tenant has the place for four years longer. These, and other Interesting rent al customs you may learn in Eng lish real-estate offices. Mayfair is full of fascinating real-estate offi ces, most of them seeming like pri vate homes, with their open fires, Chippendale chairs, and bookcase desks. “Mr. Upperton and Partners” is the diverting and reticent sign over the door of one of these. Lovely way of expressing it; Upperton, Stoggs, Chair and Jones is outdone by the dignity of “and Partners.” Any of these gentlemen can teach the eager American client new uses of English words and phrases in real-estate Jargon, whether or not he offers the ideal ancient house and romantic garden. And it is here that you learn that the rent of unfur nished houses is denoted in pounds Sterling, while the furnished house smartly demands guineas—an extra shilling on each pound. Ton also learn that company’s water “laid on” merely means that domestic water flows from taps In stead of being pumped up from well or cistern. Indeed, one most not visibly shudder to learn that for 200 years houses have been occu pied by gentry, modern smart peo ple among them, who have had no running water, no lights except kerosene lamps, no telephones. In credible! Without the tireless Eng lish servant, the English gentry must have died out for lack of com forts. One of the Partners may ask you strange-sounding questions. “Are you prepared to pay dila pidations!” That Is disconcerting. “But I don't want a house that Is actually in a state of decay.” The Partner patiently explains that any sort of dsmage or break age must be restored by the tenant. Your bill (or dilapidations may be «0y four shilling, about one dollar, for a flower holder. But It often happens that one must assume the dilapidations of the previous ten ant, which may Include repairs and decorations of Importance. So It Is a word to excite suspicion. What the American adventurous spirit asks of England for the sum mer Is a smallish house, even a cot tage. But It must be under a style name like Tudor, or more romantic ally Elizabethan, or perhaps. Queen Anne and the Georgian, either late or early. Hunting a Country House. The hunt for the Ideal takes on the aspect of a tour. It Is possible to get about by commodious omni buses. They set you down on the main roads, where local motor cars with drivers can be hired. Gradually you come to know the districts not too far from London where certain types of the Ideal house have sprung from the soil. It Is a requisite of the Ideal Eng lish small house that It should look as If It had pushed Itself up from Nature’s laboratory of the earth. Just as the shrubs, flowers, and trees have done. They are close kin. Districts not too far from Lon don contain an entrancing variety of old styles. The house of carved interiors and scrolled gables Is a specialty of Kent; the thatched roof hides beside the roads of Hamp shire's New Forest; the cottage of Ught-gra; stone makes glad the villages of the Cotswolds; and the Georgian, or rather Eighteenth cen tury houses, scatter their elegant lines In all parta of the land. Tim ber and plaster houses tempt one almost everywhere with their Tudor charm. You come to one of the richest of all districts for those who hunt the Ideal house when yon arrive at the hills of the Cotswolds. Grad ually Its little stone houses catch yon In the spell of their beauty. They spread themselves beside the road! taking on almost human qual ities. They lift their gables with dignity; they spread their mullloned windows with frankness. Their sym metry seems of the highest art, yet It is said these lovely houses were built by simple artisans. They toik the warm, light stone of the land, and even the roof tiles are made of It All seems a pearly gray, and on this Ideal color climb the bright flowers of the garden. Many Enticing Placet. You linger long and drift from road to lane, from village to farm, drinking In every detail of these houses—the Tudor ornament over the leaded windows, the lovely flat arch of the front door, the beau ties of the back of the house, the Sowers and a cunning use of shrubs and creepers piling one thrilling beauty upon another against the light-gray stone. In Sussex and Kent, hunt out the old farms and the ancient houses of villages. They have a beauty all their own, with their bricks turned to pink and softened brown. Many have an end gable of stone fash ioned In the grand curves which fascinatingly recall the Walloons who brought with them their own traditions of art when driven to England by religions persecutions. Those curvilinear gables have, too, a Spanish flavor, a late Renaissance caper of free-drawn curve*. Fasci nating Interiors those Walloon cloth weavers constructed to make the homes of their exiles resemble those they had left In Kent Is found that enticing structure, the house of timber and plaster, or timber and brick Ingeni ously laid. It Is eternally lovely, be wlldertngly fantastic. How did mod est man fancy such a house easy to build, and practical 1 The beams, black aqd exposed, seem to repre sent superhuman effort tn the Inter est of be purely o the eye. story Is i tecture’s beauty. The curved ones, the ornamental ones, fascinate Uncle Phil SaifAs It’s Useless to Wish Trouble not yourself with wishing that things may be just as you would have them; but be well pleased that they should be just as they are, and then you will be at ease. In trying to make the world pleas ant for other people, you find 90 per cent of them will reciprocate. It is a sensible man who doesn’t expect more than one expression of gratitude for a favor. Don’t Harbor Resentment No person on earth can hope to advance while harboring in the heart a case of resentment toward his or her service. Those who are “blunt” in their statements aren't very sensitive and they think others are not. Jut sprinkle Peterman's Ant Food along window sills, doors, any place where ants coma and so. Peterman’s kills them — ted ants, black ants, others. Quick. Safe. Guaranteed effective 24 hours a day. Get Peterman's Ant Food now. 25c. 35c and 60c at your druggist's. PETERMANS AMT FOOD Without Order A contempt for order is a sign, not of poverty; but of a low-grade Intelli gence or a break-down, mental, moral or physical.—Mary Borden. GS !il BLACK LEAF 40" 'Knpi Dogs Aanyfroa {“to WTimhiM Quake* Rare in England Earthquakes are rare in England, the average being one a year. The world average is about 600 a year. Forget Your Woo* Talk happiness; the world la sad enough without your woes.—E. W. Wilcox. {alotaL Flatulence# Nausea and Sick I Headache# dae to CeaathiaMca. | Gift of Hospitality Stay Is a charming word In a friend’s vocabulary.—A. Bronson Al cott STOPS HEADACHE AMAZINGLY QUICK Hie next time you have a head ache or neuralgic pain, try the im proved, modem, method of relief— two teaspoonfuls of Capudlne in a little water. Being liquid, the Ingre dients are already dissolved —..all ready to act This is why Capudlna acts almost instantly. the nerves. It is It contains no stores; 60c, 30c, 10c At V5& (Advj face 'BrokenOut? 'Start today to relieve the soreness—) aid heeling—end improve your eld* «■— ——A—. urltaaltaa •— 4P^witn in® SaiD meoicaiiOn in C| Resinol Freedom of Self-Caatrcl Who, then, is free? The wise mast who can govern himself.—Horace. FEET H
The Alleghany News and Star-Times (Sparta, N.C.)
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June 18, 1936, edition 1
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