Evening Republican, Volume 23, Number 159, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 July 1920 — The House of Whispers [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The House of Whispers

By WILLIAM JOHNSTON

Cawrictit by B*own * Ok

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

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

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: -. > _

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.)

As I Read It I Stood There Aghast