Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 44, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 February 1916 — Page 2

"It seems to me,” Helen Bertel addressed her chief, “that mysterious footsteps in a corridor at midnight are little enough cause to invoke the aid of the world’s foremost detective agency.” The chief shrugged his fat shoulders. "My dear Miss Helen,” he rejoined with the air of deference that marked all his discourse, "the footsteps alone are relatively unimportant. Here’s the point: of what are they a manifestation? What do they mean? That’s what you are supposed to discover. “Besides, P. D. Davenant, as head of the Transportation and Trust company, is one of our most valued clients; he must be humored. If his invalid wife fancies the house is haunted and he believes we can lay the ghost, why, it’s up to us to do it.” “Chief, please tell me specifically what is expected of me. I dislike acting in the dark; it is like trying to travel a strange road blindfolded.” Helen Bertel was one of the most capable operatives of the Sutherland Detective agency, and the relationship between herself and her principals was correspondingly close and confidential. While her chief pondered heavily she sat motionless and silent, her handsome gray eyes, half veiled by their long dark lashes, steadily watching him. Presently the chief roused himself and fastened his regard upon her once more.

"Here Is the situation as Mr. Davenant made me understand it,” he began. “For more than a year Mrs. Davenant has been on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and something like six months ago she went to a place belonging to her —down among the hills near Lambeth, where I want you to go—Moping to benefit by the quiet. From what Davenant says it is quiet enough; there’s nothing else there. It’s an old stone house overlooking the Illinois river, away off from any main traveled road, and with no near neighbors; an isolated, gloomy, cheerless spot, I gathered. She is alone there except for an old woman servant who was with her before she and Davenant married. “During the past six or seven months Mrs. Davenant has been the victim of what her husband, for a time, thought was merely a peculiar hallucination. Every night—no, not every night, but frequently—she heart strange foosteps in the house. Their source has not been ascertained, and they have the effect of terrifying her to the verge of hysteria. She is ill for days after eyery visitation." The girl's relaxation all at onee was erased by energy and resolution. “When do you want me to start?” she asked decisively. “I’m already packed;” and she indicated a traveling bag and suitcase over near the door. “You may suit your own convenience" —the chief was no martinet with Miss Bertel—“but Mr. Davenant, of course, wants the mystery cleared up as soon as possible.” “HI go at once, then. If you don’t mind, I’ll take one of the machines — the new roadster, by preference. I may have use for it later on.” “You are welcome, Miss Bertel; help yourself. But first go get the best dinner you can find in Chicago and charge it to expenses; you need to be fortified against the long ride. . . . Ah, and by the way, don’t forget that Mrs. Davenant will regard you merely as a companion. The idea of a detective’s presence in the house doubtless would be repugnant to her, possibly alarming in her nervous and the object of,.your errand be defeated.” “1 understand,” returned the girl. She gathered up her traveling-bag and suit-case, carrying them as easily as if they were empty. With a brief word of farewell, she passed out and walked down the long hall to a door opening upon a front room, a ■room past whose windows the elevated railroad roared ahbday and aIL night. Here, a tall, loose-jointed man with a keen, hawk-like visage was working at a desk beneath a shaded electric drop. Before him was a highpower microscope and a pantagraph and several large sheets of bristolboard upon which were drawn, in in-dia-lnk, enlargements of various letters in script The desk was littertd with papers. The mac’s hair Was rumpled and he had the appearance of one who has been absorbed for hours in an engrossing task. The girl rapped lightly and entered. "Why this fine frenzy, Felix?” she said softly. The FP»n looked up quickly, his dark, intense eyes agleam. “By jimminy crickets!” he exclaimed, “it isn’t a forgery!" "What isn’t?” calmly asked Helen. Felix Hazard flipped a canceled check across the desk toward her. “the signature is all light,” *he supplemented, “but the check has been raised.” Setting down suit-case and bag, she advanced ahd picked up the questionable slip. Beneath the light she scrutinized it a moment. Next instant she was regarding Hazard with a steady, speculative stare.

The Muffled Footfall

Taken from the Notebook of an Old Detective

And With Names and Places Hidden Published as a Proof That Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction

The signature which he so confidently declared not to be a forgery was that of P. D. Davenant.

11. Helen did not begin by overwhelming Hazard with questions. Instead she first revealed her interest by telling him about her assignment, and wound up by asking: “Why, do you suppose, didn’t the- chief inform me of this?” She struck the check smartly with the knuckles of one gloved hand. “Well,” returned Hazard, “I can’t see that there’s any connection her tween the check and your assignment The two just happen to fall together, that’s all. Davenant, you know, from time to time has a good bit of work for the Sutherlands.” Helen was not satisfied. She noted the check’s amount —$2,200; it was made payable to Grace E. Davenani. Turning it over she perceived that it had been properly endorsed by the payee. But the Instrument also bore a second endorsement, a name unfamiliar to her—Stanley Hall —and it" had been cashed by a down-town bank. She returned the slip to the desk. "Grace E. Davenant,” she said; "that’s Mrs. Davenant. But who Is Stanley Hall? And which of the two raised the check?" "Don’t know. But since you. ask me to express an opinion off-hand, I’d say that an artistic job of check-rais-ing, like this, would hardly be within the scope of Mrs. Davenant’s abilities.” Helen once more gathered up her luggage. The man’s dark eyes rested on her fondly. “Good luck, Helen,” he said In a dropped voice. “If you need me . . . don’t forget ...” Her pretty face all at once was transfigured by one of its rare smiles. _ “I shan’t, you goose,” she said, her tone softening. “Ta-ta."

111. It was some hours after nightfall when Helen arrived at her destination. The machine climbed a crushedstone driveway—the only decent stretch of road during the last eight miles of her Journey—to the space immediately surrounding the house. Nobody appeared to greet her. Indeed, there was no sign of life at all until, Just as she was about to alight and make her presence known, a huge, gaunt dog, a Russian boar-hound, came stalking toward her from among the black shadows of some outhouses at the rear. Thirty paces away, perhaps, he halted in the moonlight and stood steadily looking at her. Of a sudden he uttered a low, throaty growl, and without warning whirled around and went dashing toward the rear in the direction whence he had co^ie. Back beyond the outhouses, and extending up a rather steep hillside, was an orchard. Dodging this way and that, as if trying to keep to the splotches of tree shadows, a man was running away froth the house —running madly, as if the dog, or even death, were right at his heels. There was something so desperate in his frantic scramble up the steep slope that Helen was a bit awed by the spectacle. There were no further demonstrations from the enormous brute which, in fancy, Helen pictured pursuing the fugitive over hill and dale in a silence more grim and ruthless than if be had bayed his quarry; so she mustered up her courage, stepped from the machine, and, not without a qualm of trepidation, sped toward the nearest door, one at the side of the house. Barely had she lifted her hand to rap when she heard a scuffling of the gravel close beside her. She Jerked her head around and her heart sank. The dog was not a dozen feet away, walking with a dignified tread directly toward her. A fence, doubtless, had balked his pursuit of the fleeing man. Helen shrank against the door and for one awful moment was paralyzed to inaction. Straight on came the brute. He sniffed at the hem of her skirt. He raised his head and < for a moment -met- her terrified looX* H4t head low-, ered; he edged a tnfle nearer^—and slowly wagged his tail! In a swift revulsion of feeling the sirl nearly cMlapsed. She laughed nervously an# stooped and scratched the dog's.head « 1 / Just then she heard a window open

by Charles Edmonds Walk

This story throbs with realism in the word’s narrowest meaning. It is a faithful rendering of an authentic experience in the career of a high official of a detective agency whose name is a household word throughout the -Englishspeaking world. Real names of persons and places are sometimes disguised. In all other respects the amazing, often thrilling, always gripping facts are recorded just as they happened.

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

upon her left and a harsh feminine voice inquire who was there. She stepped back away from the door and saw, framed in one of the ground floor windows, a woman in a kimono, which she was holding together at the throat It was too dark In the shadow to, determine more than this; but Helen informed the apparition that she was Mrs. Davenant’s new companion and that she had just arrived. For a second there was silence. The woman in the window craned this way and that —apprehensively, the girl imagined—and so perceived the dog. She gasped and exclaimed, in a hushed, frightened voice: “Good Lord; That dog’s loose again! Quick, miss, climb in this window; he’s viciouß as a tiger. . . . You, Boris, go away this instant!” • At "this instant,” however, Boris’ shaggy head was pressed against Helen’s side in the friendliest fashion imaginable. The girl tugged his ear. "Well, I declare!” marveled the woman in a low voice. “Don’t that beat the Dutch! Why, I wouldn’t take such liberties with that beast, not for anything in the world. And me that feeds him, too! I’m thankful enough to get him to mind me without beiffgr tonr to pieces. .

But you mustn’t stand there all night; I’ll open the door.” IV. It was not till the next morning that Mrs. Sloan, the housekeeper and sole servant, became a definite personality, one which, Helen arrived at the conclusion, might have to be reckoned with. She was past middle age, tall, lean and wiry, and as austere as any prelate. Helen gave her ‘considerable'attention when she came to her room to inform her that Mrs. Davenant was “impatient to see her.” During these first few minutes Helen became aware that Mrs. Sloan owned an unpleasant, not to say disconcerting, trait. It became manifest after Helen told about seeing the man running through the orchard —the man who had been running as If death were at bis heels. Much to Helen’s surprise the woman warmly, almost indignantly, scouted the very idea that a man could have been near the premises at the time. Indeed, so vehemently did Mrs. Sloan deny the possibility that all of the girl’s suspicions were aroused. She recalled the other’s apprehension of the previous night, an apprehension that was not associated with the girl who had Just arrived.

Thereafter it was that she became sensible of the unpleasant, disconcerting trait. The woman’s beady, deepset eyes were constantly trained ui>on her. In a steady, unblinking stare they followed her every movement and she soon realized that It was a case of the watcher being watched. Mrs. Davenant she found to he the wreck of a beautiful woman. Her fine, dark, still lustrous eyes wore a haunted look; beneath them were deep shadows, and her cheeks were sunken and pale. That first flay - Helen had little enough to do besides advance and develop acquaintance with her charge, and It gratified her to feel that the invalid was; attracted to her. Once during the afternoon she. realized suddenly that Mrs. Daveant’s dark eyes were fixed upon her. She came out of a revery and smiled at the lady upon the davenport, close by which she was sitting at the time. The invalid’s features responded with a wan, wistful counterpart of the girl’s bright Expression, and she stretched forth a hand And caught one of Helen’s. "My dear,” said she, "aren’t you afraid to stay here?” “Afraid!” Helen’s tone disclaimed. "What is there to be afraid of?” “Ah, you don’t know —you don’t know! It is awful!”, The footsteps, you mean?” The dark eyes grew all at once more intent. •• “You know about them?” Mrs. Davenant asked, a note of surprise in her voice. “Of course I know about them; they are one of the reasons why I am here” Her manner was matter-of-fact, indicating that she regarded the footsteps as of little or no consequence. Helen made up her mind to be bold; she felt that she was far enough advanced in her charge's confidence and good will to risk the step. She said with quiet earnestness: "Mrs. Davenant, please don’t think I amtrylag-taaurprise any of youEA©-. crets or anything that is none of my business, but I believe the footsteps, whatever their source, are the cause of your unstrung condition.” She was startled by the terrified expression that overspread the pale face. Abruptly she btopped. "Don’t,” said the woman hoarsely. things. . . . Just a silly notion of mine. 1 am sure that while in your strong;, supporting presence I shall never hear them! . "My dear, I don’t want to appear exacting, but, during the night, I want von to be always near me. Sleep

there In that alcove. I trust you are a light sleeper?” ‘‘l can be If occasion requires.” Helen assured her. The woman sighed again and relaxed amongst the pillows. “I believe I can sleep.""’she murmured. Accepting this as a dismissal, Helen arranged the pillows, saw that her charge was otherwise comfortable, and quietly went away. The enormous boarhound, she reflected, had been provided to protect this isolated household; yet a speech of Mrs. Sloan’s the night before implied that she was in the habit of keeping him chained up of nights. Why? The woman unmistakably bad been surprised that the beast had slipped his leash. Thought of Boris led her to the rear, where she found that a high wire fence separated yard from orchard; which accounted for the dog having so soon given up pursuit of t£e fleeing man. . _■ Turning her back to the gate and facing the house, her glance was arrested by a porch that had been converted into a flower conservatory, though one now empty of flowers. One of the glass panels Stood slightly ajar, and some inner prompting — scarcely intuitive, but more a subconscious deduction from her observar tions —led her steps across an intervening expanse of turf and the crushed limestone driveway to the partially open panel. She opened it wide. Upon the sill and upon the floor inside were unmistakable traces of limestone powder—of course, from the driveway. Again her thoughts went back to the dog. He was chained up of nights when, as a protector, he should be allowed to roam at large. And in this connection the midnight prowler eame into her mind. He was not only a prowler, but at least once had surreptitiously entered the house. Mrs. Sloan was responsible for the beast’s nightly captivity; hence was suggested collusion between her and the midnight visitor. V. For observing what went on in other parts of the premises after dark, Mrs. Davenant’s desire that Helen keep

She Was About to Address Him When Her Arm Was Violently Clutched From Behind.

close to her, restricted the girl’s opportunities. Nevertheless, certain details did not escape her. On this second night, for instance, she noted that Boris was permitted to run free. Next, some time after eleven she missed Mrs. Sloan. Excusing herself from her charge, she confirmed her suspicions that the housekeeper was nowhere to be found about the place. She returned to Mrs. Davenant’s room, seating herself close by one of the windows. All her senses were alert. And some time after midnight, when she beheld Boris make a sudden purposeful plunge toward the rear, and then just as suddenly halt, as if he had recognized the occasion of his alarm, she knew that Mrs. Sloan had returned. The woman’s entry into the house was noiseless. Not a sound disturbed the stillness till, daylight Then the girl heard the housekeeper, quite in a natural, everyday manner, bestirring herself about her regular duties. This day brought Helen a letter from Felix Hazard. “Davenant has got busy about the raised cheque,” it informed her. "If you can do so without 1 exciting suspicions, try to find out who Stanley Hall is. That festive gentleman, it Is my present conviction, will be pinched.” She read the epistle carefully two or three times, then burnt it at the kitchen range under the curious, unfriendly regard of Mrs. Sloan’s unblluklug star*.“Mrs. Sloan.” she asked, "did you Avar know anyone named Stanley Hall?” If, without warning, she had hurled the stove-lid at the woman instead of carefully putting it back in its proper place, the effect scarcely could have been more startling. Every mußde of the tali, gaunt body seemed to leap into a quivering strain; her lean, wrinkled countenance grew ashen; the fire that always smoldered in the deep-set -eyes leabed to the suffacet she recoiled to the wall with a sharp, bißsing intake of breath. For a long pause the tension continued, then Mrs. Sloan asked in a gasping voice; e> “Why da you. . . . Has anything

happened? ... Do you know him?" Helen’s smiling, confident mien remained unchanged. "I know that he is in the way of getting himself into a whole lot of trouble. You have the meanß of Judging whether or not lam right If you are friendly disposed toward him —” Hfrs. Sloan did not wait till she had finished. With a low, choking cry, she darted away—through the butler’s pantry to the dining rbom, thence to the hall, and finally the girl heard a door slam. Following more leisurely and composedly, Helen presently discovered that Mrs. Davenant’s bedroom door wag locked. On the other side she heard the low murmur of women's volceB —by which she surmised that Mrs. Davenant was herself concerned in Mr; Stanley Hall’s welfare.

VI. That night was destined to be memorable for Helen Bertel. To begin with, as night fell, the very air became tinctured with a dread influence that keyed her up to a high pitch of expectancy. Mrs. Sloan seemed more furtive than usual in finding pretexts to keep Mrs. Davenant’s bed chamber under an almost unbroken surveillance. And then Mrs. Davenant was restless. The girl fancied she labored under a strain, as if constantly alert to catch some distant sound that she was afraid to hear. Somewhere around ten o’clock Helen’s keen ear detected certain vague noises on the outside that made her at once suspicious of their cause. Satisfied after a tense minute that the coast was clear, she stole noiselessly to the shed where Boris slept As she had surmised, he was chained. She quietly released him and hastened back to the house. The glass panel she purposely left open, as she entered. Before returning to Mrs. Davenant, she went to her own room, where she procured from her traveling bag Hie automatic pistol and her electric torch. These she concealed in the capacious pockets of her apron. Somewhere in the house a clock

chimed midnight, and by and by the half hour. Unmoving, Helen waited In the . samldarknegs. Without warning, Mrs. Davenant suddenly sat upright and fixed upon the girl a terrified stare. “Listen!” Bhe exclaimed in a hoarse, strained whisper. “Now —there! Don’t you hear it?” Helen had heard. Along the hall -was approaching a muffled footfall. Of a sudden the doorlatch gave out an .almost indistinguishable sound. The footsteps had halted. Their objective could no longer be doubted, for a stealthy hand had been laid upon tho knob. Just as stealthily Helenas hand stole to her apron pocket and closed upon the pistol butt. In a half crouching position, she waited for what the open door might disclose. She fancied for a moment that there were vague whisperings and stirrings on the other side of the thin wooden barrier, but could not be certain. The vague sounds ceased. Then, very slowly, soundlessly, the knob began to turn. The pistol crept from her pocket and came to rest with its muzzle trained upon the door. What tragedy might have been precipitated within the next few seconds there is no means of telling, because the whole course of events waß altered in a most unexpected manner. The door swung slowly open. Helen was aware of a tall vague figure, a man’s, in the gloom of the halL She was about to address it when her arm was violently clutched froip behind, and before she could brace herself to resist the shock she was slewed round and outward against the doorjamb. In now open door and she was confronting Mrs. Davenant, who, half crazed with terror, had stolen upon her and placed her at this cruel disadvantage. And the opportunity was not neglected by the Intruder. A forearm was passed quickly under her chin ajnd her head was jerked back so forcibly that she thought her neck must be dislocated. The impetus of the jerk sent her staggering into the hall. A cloth was thrown over her head and twisted tight. Resourcefulness, courage, strength and intelligence had won for her the place she held with

the Sutherlands; but she realized that all these factors were now pitted against more than one pair of hands, and the others were not Mrs. Dave nant’s he*’ for that lady, screaming frantically, was not near by. For the time being Helen’s weapon was useless, though she still retained her hold upon it Vainly she opposed to the brute strength of her aggressors every trick and artifice in which her own lithe, athletic body was trained. \flen all at once the hand twisting the cloth and the hand grasping one arm lost their grip. In a flash she tore the cloth from her head and availed herself of the opening. Desperately she threw herself upon her second assailant and with the pistol struck blindly, madly, in the dark. So impetuous was her attack that she swept the man some paces along the hall before he could brace himself against her onrush. More than once her weapon landed, as muttered curses and imprecations testified, but ineffectively in the dark. Once he spat at her: “You hell-cat! I’ll kill you if you don’t let up. Curse you! Do you want to murder me?” “Yes,” she found breath to reply. Then fell one of the accidents of battle. Helen’s toe caught in a rug and she tripped. The man wrenched free, and next instant a stunning blow on the side of the neck Btaggered her. With the resilience and swiftness of a rubber ball she launched herself back to the encounter; but the movement was abruptly checked. Her other assailant, the woman, grasped her skirt Just as she leaped. The fabric tore and spun the girl round like a top. The automatic was flung from her hand and went clattering along the hardwood floor.

Then in a twinkling the whole situation was transformed. She heard a roar as from a wild beast. A huge form plunged past her and a man’s screams were mingled with Mrs. Davenant’s. She realized all at once that that lady’s frantic endeavors were now purposeful, that they voiced a definite appeal. “Stanley! Stanley! Oh, my Godsave him!’’ Luckily the electric torch was still in Helen’s other apron pocket. For the moment she was free. Simultaneously she whipped out the torch and snatched up the trailing, impeding length of skirt. The latter she tucked in her belt, and flashed the white ray of her torch upon the scene. And a strange one it was that met her eyes—Mrs. Sloan cowering upon the floor In a huddled heap; Mrs. Davenant, almost mad with fear, clinging wildly to the doorjamb and shattering the night with her screams. And a yard or two farther along a man. pinned against the wall in a crouching attitude, was struggling desperately with Boris. The enormous brute, all the instincts of his Jungle ancestry rampant, had leaped true through the darkness. His fangs were closed upon the man’s throat in a death grip. Without hesitation she sprang forward, secured a firm grasp upon Boris’ collar and pulled and Jerked with all her strength. The dog’s Wind was shut off. In a moment she was dragging him, struggling and straining with deadly purpose to return to tho attack, along the floor. With her free hand she opened the first door and contrived to shove him in and close it again. The man lay panting and spent upon the floor. Helen roughly abused Mrs. Sloan Into a semblance of activity, and between them he was removed to a bed where the girl dressed his lacerated throat.

In the stress and excitement of the moment the secret was revealed. Years before, when the lady who was now Mrs. Davenant was jin unsophisticated schoolgirl, Stanley Hall * had persuaded her into a clandestine marriage. A month later he disappeared, carrying the secret with him; for the heartbroken parents, realizing that the affair was not public property, took no steps to have the ceremony annulled. Time passed, and information came to the family that Stanley Hall was dead. The daughter, now matured to full womanhood, met and was won by Mr. Davenant, and the wretched girl-romance was relegated to the dead past. But Stanley Hall was not dead. The woman’s second marriage gave the scoundrel his opportunity to prosecute a systemized course of blackmail, and it was when greed overcame caution that he worked his own undoing. With Mrs. Sloan’s connivance and aid he would surreptitiously enter the house and browbeat and bully Mrs. Davenant into supplying his insatiable demands. She lived in a constant state of terror. It was fear of discovery by her husband that impelled her to isolate herself at Lambeth. Not satisfied with obtaining every . cent that the woman could lay her hands upon, the rapacious Hall took to raising the cheques provided by Davenant for household expenses—a detail which he confessed to Felix Hazard some weeks later. The Davenants arrived at a full and, happy understanding, and in the future Hall will never again be able to molest their happiness. (Copyright, 1916. by W. Q. Chapman.)

His Scheme.

The Suburbanite’s Wise —Tommy, what do you mean by cutting up all Chose chickens. The Suburbanite’s Boy—Pop said last night that there was money in chickens and I was some.

Reasons for Keeping Still.

Because you know it is not always a good reason for talking.—Atchison Globe, —v