Evening Republican, Volume 23, Number 159, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 July 1920 — Page 2

The House of Whispers

Cawrictit by B*own * Ok

"I AM IN TROUBLE."

Synopsis.—Circumstances having prevented Spalding Nelson, clerk, from joining the American forces going to FYance, he is in a despondent mood when he receives an invitation to dinner from his great-uncle, Rufus Gaston. On the way to the house he meets, under peculiar circumstances, a young girl, apparently in trouble, to whom he has an opportunity to be of slight service. She lives in the same apartment building as Rufus Gaston, and he accompanies her to the house. Gaston and his wife are going to Maine for a trip and want to leave Nelson in charge of the apartment. He accepts. Gaston and his wife tell their great-nephew of mysterious noises— “whispers''— which they have heard in the house. On his way to the Gaston apartment the next Sunday Nelson again meets his accidental ax'quaintance of a few days before. Barbara Bradford. She urges him not to allow the fact of their being acquainted to be known. At the apartment Nelson meets the superintendent, Wick and instinctively dislikes him. In a wall safe he finds a necklace of magnificent pearls, worth a small fortune. Meeting Barbara in the hallway she passes him without recognition. Dining In a restaurant he is conscious of the unpleasant scrutiny of a stranger but a man whom he had seen before. Next day Nelson finds the pearls have disappeared from the wall safe. Hts first idea of informing the police is not acted upon because of peculiar circumstances. He has been discharged from his position without adequate explanation or reason, and feels himself involved In something of a mystery. He decides to conduct an investigation himself.

CHAPTER lll.—Continued. I dined tn a little restaurant in one of the side streets and walked home. Immediately on entering the apartment I decided to put my money in the wall safe. There would be less temptation for me to spend it if I carried only a little in my pocket. As I opened the safe by means of the combination I made the astounding discovery that one of the Jewel cases had disappeared. And now I stood hesitating at the telephone. Self-protection bade me notify neither the superintendent nor the polices Yet I must do something. The jewels entrusted to my care had been stolen. The thief must be found and the pearls recovered. Why should not I myself play the detective? I had abundant leisure now. My great-uncle had Informed me that there was something wrong In the house and had charged me to discover what it was. Here was the opportunity for me to fulfill the trust he had imposed on me. The thought flashed across my mind, too, that perhaps the crafty old gentleman had deliberately planned the disappearance of the gems. Perhaps he had devised an elaborate test to see if I was honest, if I was of thd right caliber to be his heir. Maybe he ond his wife had not gone to Maine at all. They might even be quartered In another apartment in this very house, surreptitiously entering when they knew I was absent. There really had been no necessity for them to grlve me the combination of the safe. They need not have told me anything about the pearls. I wondered if they themselves might not have taken away the jeweT boxjust to see if I would discover the loss and to ascertain what I would do about it. - Another theory suggested itself. My aunt evidently prized her jewels highly, After they had started she might have repented having left them behind and have sent the old colored « butler back to get them. He of course would have a key to admit him, and they would have supplied him with the safe combination, as they had me. Probably he had been told to leave some message for me and had forgotten to do so. More than likely in a day or two I would receive a letter from old Rufus that would explain everything. I was glad now I had not notified the superintendent nor the police. My second theory surely was far more logical than the first It seemed preposterous that they would risk hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of gems just to test my honesty. Still, I determined to make a thorough investigation. If they had been stolen, I would set about in a scientific way to discover the method of the theft and to bring about restoration. I would keep my investigation secret, and if it turned out that the pearls were safe, no one would know of my fright about the matter. I began outlining my work as a detective. First, I would examine the safe knob for possible finger prints. Second, I would Interrogate Mrs. I would watch her carefully for -any appearance of guilt I would tty, without arousing her suspicions, . to ascertain if she bad let her key OBt Of her possession. * Third, I would Insert an advertisement offering a reward for the return of the jewels, so worded that only the thief and myself would understand. Fourth, I would try to locate the Gastons and would question the han bogpa and telephone girt as to whether they bad surreptitiously returned. 1 rtfth, I must try and discover what in the mysterious letter that had to my discharge. While this did

By WILLIAM JOHNSTON

not seem to have any connection with the other affairs that were troubling me, if I was to remain in New York and become better acquainted with Barbara Bradford, as I fondly hoped, I mean( to have nothing hanging over me. I was about to get Into bed, had turned out the light, in fact, when I recalled the errand that had led me to open the wall safe. I had more than two hundred dollars in my trousers pocket and I purposed putting it where it would be safe. With the feeling that If the Jewels had disappeared, so might my money. I pressed the light button in the sitting room and looked about for a hiding place. Recalling a custom of my mother's, I stepped over to the bookcase and taking a Macaulay's History, Volume Three, from the shelf, placed between the leaves all of m vmonev except fifteen dollars. burglar was likely to find it there. I extinguished the light and in the darkness stepped back into my bedroom, and stopped stock still. From somewhere in the room there came three distinct taps. Instinctively I crouched in an attitude of selfdefense and strained my ears to listen. My first impression was that there was someone in the room, probably the burglar. I hesitated about turning on the light If he were armed it would give him all the advantage. Breathlessly I listened. Once more there came three distinct raps, this time apparently from somewhere outside the room. I wondered if it had beefi sounds like these that had so terrified the old couple. Perhaps it was the echo of someone pounding in another apartment, the noise being carried along by a water pipe. The thought that it might be the crackling of some hidden steam or refrigerating pipe suggested itself. Both these theories I rejected. The sound, whatever it was, had originated close at hand. It came again. This time I was certain that it was not due to footfalls as I had at first conjectured. I was able, too, to locate more closely the direction from which it came. The window at the foot of the bed stood open, and the sound seemed to float in from Somewhere outside. I hurried over to the window and -thrust my head out. At first I could see nothing, but even as I looked a white arm

As I Read It I Stood There Aghast

thrust forth from an adjacent window on the same floor. It held a riding crop and reaching out as far as was possible it rapped three times on the sill of my window. It dawned on me at once that the window next must belong to the Bradford apartment. It must be Miss Bradford trying to signal to me. “Hello,” I called out softly. “Oh, is that you. Mr. Nelson?” a relieved voice w*f*spered. “I thought you would never hear. I must see you.” “Why didn’t you phone me?” . — “I -couldn't. Someone might hear me.” “What’s the matter?” "I’ve had another letter.” “From those men in the park?” “I suppose so.” “Tell me about it.” $ “I can’t now. Can yon meet me somewhere tomorrow?”. “Wherever you say.” “Do you ride?” “Yes, indeed.” TH be in the cross lane that leads from McGowan’s Pass tavern between eight and eight-thirty.” “PH be there.” Whether or not she heard me I did not know. She withdrew quickly from the room as if someone had entered. I waited there in the window for a full hour in case she should wish to communicate with me again. By and by the light in her window was extinguished, but even then I sat there at the window adjoining, hoping in vain that she would seek to renew the conversation. When at last I got into I was In a jubilant mood. I had qdtte forgiven Miss Bradford for cutting me when she met me in company with her mother and sister. * was enough for -Jr' r-j-- " y-.i: -. > _

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

me to know that when trouble again threatened her she had decided to trust in me and had sought my aid. I fell asleep at last and slept for I do not know how long. Opening my eyes in the darkness I seemed to feel the presence of someone in the room. There was the sound of footfalls somewhere —muffled, seemingly some distance off. I”was almost certain I could detect muttered words. In a curious detached state of mind I listened, wondering whether I was awake or asleep. The footsteps seemed to come closer, then recede. The whispering noise ceased. I sprang up, and hastily lighting up all the rooms, explored them thoroughly. There was no evidence anywhere of anyone’s presence. As I lay there thinking about it, I decided that my illusion must have been a dream, due to my thought of spirit rappings when I first had heard Miss Bradford’s signal. I was still thinking about my experience when I awoke early the next morning. Springing lightly out of bed, I stopped in utter bewilderment. There, In the center of the room on the floor lay a small white folded slip of paper. It could not have been a dream, after all. I bad heard footsteps and whispers. I had not imagined it. Someone had been in the room while I slept. There was the proof, the note they had dropped. Wondering if Miss Bradford had found still another unusual way of communicating with me I hastened to pick up the folded paper that lay on the floor. On the outside it 'bore my name, in typewriting, “Mr. Spalding Nelson.” With eager fingers I unfolded the paper, wondering wHat message It contained. As I read it I stood there, aghast. - It ran: “Why didn't you tell the police about the pearls?”

CHAPTER IV. I had twice traversed the cross lane near McGowan’s Pass tavern waiting for Barbara Bradford. Although it had been my inkoetion to ride thither I was amazed to learn On applying at two of the stables near the park entrance to hire a horse that the few they had there either were owned privately or had been already engaged. There was nothing for me to do but to go to my rendezvous on foot. I had almost despaired of Miss Bradford’s coming when I spied her cantering slowly along the lane, followed at a decorous distance by a groom. She was looking right and left and when she saw me her face brightened but she rode a few steps past me with no sign of recognition. I was wondering what to make of this new slight when she suddenly reined in and allowed ■ the groom to come up with her. “James,” I heard her say to the groom, “my head aches, and the riding is making it worse. Take the horses back to the stable, and I will walk the rest of the way home.” “Very well, Miss Bradford,” he said, touching his cap, as he assisted her to alight. She waited until he had vanished and then hastened to the bench where I was seated, one I had purposely selected because it was half hidden by a turn in the road and the branches of a wide-spreading tree. / She colored vividly as I rose to greet her with outstretched blind. “Oh, Mr. Nelson,” she cried, “I "don’t know what you will think of me, asking you to meet me here. lam in trouble. I must tell someone. I don’t know what to do I” ”The only thing to do,” I suggested, “is to begin at the beginning and tell me the whole story. I’ve sisters of my own. Just pretend you are one of my sisters and let me help you.” She looked at me thoughtfully, studying me as if questioning whether or not I was to be trusted, and apparently deciding in the affirmative, told me an amazing story. “It’s all about my sister, Claire,” she began. “She’s five years older than L She’s a lovely girl, but she’s —that is, she used to be —impulsive, romantic, and headstrong. She and my mother never got along well together, and she was sent away to boarding school. One winter, it was six years ago, mother was in Europe and only Dad and I were at home . . .” She sighed sadly. Evidently her words were bringing back to her moments of heartache. “To make a long story short, Claire ran away from the school and married —married a French chauffeur employed by a family in the neighborhood. She took me into her confidence a week later, and I—well, I told dad. There was a terrible time about it all. Did found out that her husband was already married, had a wife and child right here in this city. He had the marriage annulled and managed to keep everything out of the papers. He threatened Claire’s husband with prison and made him go back to France. Dad was simply wonderful. No one knew anything about Claire’s escapade except ourselves, the principal of the school, and the judge down in Nassau county, who ordered i «

the marriage annulled. Dad kept mother abroad until after it was all over, and to this day she never has heard a word about it” “Your father must be a wonderful man,” I said enthusiastically. “He was,” she said simply. “He has been dead two years.” "Oh, Fm so sorry,” I cried, “ I did not know,” “If Dad were alive he would know what to do. You see, when he died, there was not much money left. We’re really little better than paupers. We’ve been living from day to day on our tiny capital, and Mother has been working every wire to arrange a good match for Claire. I wanted to do something, to go out and earn a living for myself, but she never would consent She Insisted I’d be damaging Claire’s prospects if I went into trade, as she calls it, and I promised her I’d do nothing until after Claire is safely married.” “And is she to be married?” I asked. A troubled expression came into her face. “She was to be, but now I don’t know. She is engaged to marry young Harry D. Thayer, who Is worth a Tot of money, but someone has found out about her secret.” “How did they find out?” I asked eagerly. I understood now the mysterious meeting in the park that had brought me first into touch with Barbara Bradford. Some band of rascals was trying to blackmail Claire Bradford, and her sister was trying to save her. “That’s the greatest mystery of all,” exclaimed Miss Bradford. “Before Dad died he turned over to me aU the papers about the annulment of Claire’s marriage. Somehow he seemed to rely on me far more than on either Mother or Claire. He explained to me the importance of always keeping them, in case the past should ever crop up, but he charged me to see that they always were safely put away where no one could find them.” “Where did you keep them?” I asked. “In the wall safe in my sitting room.” “In the wall safe I” I cried, thinking in bewilderment of the coincidence that these papers should have had a similar hiding place to the Gaston jewels which had vanished so strangely. “Yes,” she answered, plainly puzzled at my bewilderment. “It was an excellent hiding place. No one but myself had the combination. I don’t see now who could have taken them. I found the safe locked as it always was.” “When did you first discover the papers were missing?” “Let me see,” she pondered. “Claire’s engagement was announced at a dinner three weeks ago last Thursday. The newspapers op Sunday carried a brief notice of it. Two days later the first note came?’ “What note?” She reached into the pocket of her riding habit and drew forth a folded slip of paper. — “I brought it with me to show you; here, this is the first one.” Like the mysterious note I myself had received only the preceding night, this one was not inclosed in an en- { velope. Ht was just a folded slip, addressed in typewriting to “Miss Claire Bradford.” On the other side was this message: “What if Thayer knew about your being married before? How much will you give to get those papers back?” “Where did you get this?” I asked. “I found it on the floor of my bedroom one morning when I got up late. I gave it to my sister without having read it, thinking she had dropped it there. She read it and screamed and fainted. Fortunately Mother was out of the house at the time. Naturally I read the note then. I went to the safe and found the documents gone. Claire has been nearly crazy ever since. She insists that it is all my fault She says I ought to have destroyed the papers, but I couldn’t, could I?” “Of course not” I replied warmly. “You did quite right in keeping them. It was not your fault they were stolen.” “I couldn’t destroy them. sa<J had told me to keep them,” she said simply. “What did you do then? Did you tell your mother?”

Barbara , has heard the whispers, too.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

Compensation in Age.

It is true that a poet wrote a fans* ous, hymn, *T Would Not Live Always," yet people are interested in living as long as they can, as that Is one of the great laws of nature. Even advanced age, bringing dim sight loss of hearing and’ general decline, is not without its compensations, and Longfellow proved that “age is opportunity no leas than youth."

MARY’S HOME

By LYDIA L. ROBERTS.

(©. 1920, by McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) “There comes John down the street. Oh, dear! I wonder what is the matter with him lately. He is getting more silent and sober every day.” Mary’s brown eyes watched wistfully as a big, blue-eyed, straight-shoul-dered young man approached the house. “Spring again,” she sighed. “I thought surely by this spring I would be nest-building. John is earning enough now and I am so tired of the long days in the office, when I am just aching to be planting a rosebush by my own dopr. The bell rang and Mary hurried downstairs and opened the door. She looked so dainty and shining as she smiled up at him that bashful John Blake’s heart almost choked him. “He looks so kind and good,” thought Mary, who had battled for her living since a child. “She looks fit to be a princess,” thought John, who felt nothing was quite good enough, himself included, to offer the exquisite girl before him. “Shall we walk on the avenue?” asked John. “Very well,” quietly agreed Mary. Suddenly John stopped before a large gray stone house, set in spacious lawns and surrounded by an iron

fence. “There a house good enough for anyone,” he said, soberly, “but it would take years to get money enough for a house like that,” and he sighed, “Do you like it, Mary?” he asked anxiously. “I think it is handsome,” said Mary, admiringly. “It must be wonderful to live in tr house like that.” She looked up at John, eager to please him, and bring back the contented smile to his eyes. .Instead of smiling in return, he stared at her gloomily and said: “I knew you would like it, and it is just the kind of a house you ought to have.” Surprised at the dejection of his tone, Mary looked at him earnestly and noted the troubled eyes and worried lines on his forehead. A sudden thought came to her, and she replied thoughtfully: “Yes, it is splendid, but what would a little thing like me be doing in a big mansion like that? Sure, I’d be lost in it, and it’s not my idea of a horned I’d rather have a little gray cottage at the edge of the w’oods than this, pile of prosperity on Rich Man’s avenue,” and she laughed gaily. John shook his head doubtfully, and before he could speak she continued: “Do let us go over in the old part of the town for I feel so dreadfully out of place here. There are some pretty places oh street near the river, and the moon looks wonderful over there.” A pink color flushed her cheeks, and her eyes w’ere bright with happy sparkles. From the old street they sauntered past little white cottages and big gardens, past green fields and woody spaces until they saw the moon smiling over the river in the distance. “Oh, here is the old Dean place, and it’s for sale,” exclaimed Mary in apparent surprise. “Do you know, I think that is a great bargain for some lucky person?” “I don’t know,” said John, doubtfully, yet looking with interest at the little gray house with its big piazza, its many windows and tiny orchard in the rear. . “See into the ground,” smiled Mary. “Isn’t it a dear little house?” “It’s quite old, and needs repairing,” said John pessimistically, but his eyes eagerly took in the cozy look of the place and his intent face showed he sensed its possibilities. “Oh, yes, of course,” agreed Mary, practically, “but a handy man with a little spare time would easily repair it. I can just'see it with ruffled cur-tains-at the windows and flower beds along the walk, with a hammock swinging on the piazza and a big chair near by. It w’ould be profitable, too, for there’s plenty of fruit and a nice place for hens. Well, I suppose some lucky couple will buy it,” she ended with j. sigh as she turned away and studied the moon.

John’s face was alight as he stood staring at the little gray house, and his eyes were bright and eager. He squared his shoulders and drew Mary up to the steps as he said quickly: “Have you seen the rooms! Is it livable inside?” “Yes, I went over it with my cousin a while ago,” said Mary, indifferently, after a glance at his face. “It needs only some paper and paint, and the rooms are small and sunny, and do not need much furniture. It faces the river, doesn't it?” she said, dreamily. “How pretty it must look on a summer night when the moon is shining and the water all gold and silver and the roses in bloom and the place like a little gray nest of a home.” • . “Oh, Mary, Mary, do you really think so?” asked John as he gripped her hands. “I love you so, dear, but I wanted to offer you more only it seemed so long to wait. I can’t stand it now, dear, any longer. Since you made such a home picture of this place. Could you love me and be happy here, Mary?” “Yes, John,” answered Mary as she exchanged a wise look with the moon, and with a happy sigh.of relief snuggled down into the safe haven at John’s broad shoulder.

Adrift with Humor

DECEMBER’S TrME ENUUtaH. Jessie —Have you mentioned leap year the presence of your beau as yet? Tessie—Do I look foolish enough to pull a scare like that on a shy young man and I not knowing where my next steady is coming from? —Buffalo Express. Cleaned Out. Judge—Have you anything to offer the court before sentence is passed on you? , Prisoner—No, your honor; my lawyer took my last dollar. Accepting the Correction. The Gob—A strange cruiser has |ust parsed us. The Ensjgn —Say, “sir.” The Gob—A strange cruiser has lust surpassed us. Not Wanted. “I can give you reading lights in your library of considerable candle pow’er —” “But I don’t want candles, i want ilectric light" The Real Test. “He has ’ a great memory for lames and faces.” “That’s all right, but can he remember the times he borrows money front lis friends?” His Object “I know a man who married more than once and always for money.” “What a mercenary wretch-” “Not at all. He was a minister.”

WORSE THAN CHICKENS. •What did you raise in your garden last year?” “Nothing. Some kids in the neighborhood raised Cain in it” Geology and Finance. Some day the coal will all give out. Yet, as we fear the worst. We are convinced beyond a doubt, The cash will vanish first. His Place. “You would think from the way that actor carries himself, he was a superhuman.” ' “So he is—at fifty cents a night” His Trouble. , ' . “There goes one of the most wideawake men I know.” “So enterprising." “No; he’s got insomnia.” Loyalty. “Pa, what is loyalty?” “Loyalty, my boy, is that spirit which causes a man to turn down an offer of more money from the other fellow.” Hardest Kind of Work. Housewife—There is plenty of work # about if you’d only look for it. Hobo —Yes,-lady, an’ by the time I’ve found it all me energy’sgone.,——..

On the Defense. Oke —Would you be satisfied if you had all the money you wanted? Owens-M’d be satisfied if I had all the money my creditors wanted. Naturally. “She made a pointed address at the club yesterday.” “What was It on?” “Pin money." The Fault “This automobile seems to be disabled somewhere. What’s the trouble with her?” * “I guess it’s her rheumatic tires." Murder WIU Out . Lester Ledfoot—This floor Is very slippery. It is hard to keep on your feet s His dance partner —Ohl Then you were really trying to keep on my feet? I thought it was accidental. • Char|»able View. The Setter—What did the fiends in human form cut your tail off for, Sport? The Fox Terrier—Search me I Maybe one of the results of the high cost ■t living la dogtail soup. .