Evening Republican, Volume 23, Number 168, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 July 1920 — The House of Whispers [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The House of Whispers

By WILLIAM JOHNSTON

Oopyrlgkt kr Uttte, Brown A <M-

CHAPTER Vll—Continued. "And the number she called up—the private number—did you find out about that?" “Sure, that was easy. It’s one of the apartments in the Granddeck — Henry Kent’s. Who’s he?” “I never heard of him. I*ll try to find out, though.” “I would, but be careful how you go asking questions around the place. The Moore woman may have a pal. They generally work in pairs.” The ease and celerity with which Gorman had learned all these things •bout the girl Impressed me greatly, •nd I said as much. He received my compliments with a deprecating wave of the hand. “Nothing to It, boy, when you know the ropes. But last night you told me you had taken the girl out to try to pump something out of her. What vas it? What's doing?” z" From beginning to end I told him the whole story in all of its perplexing details, starting with the day that I had received my great-uncle Rufus’ note that had led to the chance meeting with Miss Bradford, bringing In my discharge and the disappearance of the Gaston pearls, and explaining what made me think these facts were in some way Involved with the attempt to blackmail the Bradfords. “What do you make of it?” I asked •s I ended my narrative. “Who do you think is at he bottom of it?” “I don’t think,” he retorted. “In our business it does not pay to think too quick. You’re apt to convict the wrong party." “But you must think something,” I protested.

"I think.” he said slowly and meditatively, “that there’s a lot of crooked work going on—l'll say that much. And you and Miss Bradford’s pretty close to being the center of it." •‘What can we do about it?” "There’s a way I learned from a lawyer that ain’t bad. He’d take his client and put him in the center of a big circle with lines running In all dlrections — alibi, insanity, mistaken Identity, no proof of guilt, lack of jurisdiction, escape on legal technlcality—he’d mark out every possible defense. Then he’d follow each line out and see where it led and what plan the opposing lawyers would be likely to spring on him. Generally he got his man off.” "I don’t quite see how that applies.” -You don’t, eh?” He traced an imaginary circle with his forefinger on the table In the little back room where we were sitting. “Here’s you and Miss Bradford in the center, surrounded by a lot of mysterious deviltry. We’ll make two circles. This Inside one is the things that have happened to both of you—the wall safes opened, the papers stolen, the pearls gone, the anonymous notes, the blackmail threats, the loss of your job, the voices you’ve heard. Now on this outer circle we’ll mark down all the people who might be mixed up in these things—mind ye, I say only might be. First, there’s Lefty Moore’s woman —we know she’s a crook. Then who do we know that knows her? There’s at least two— Mr. Wick, the superintendent that hired her, and this Mr. Henry Kent, whose apartment she telephoned to. Then there’s all the rest of the help in the house. Any one of them might be her pah Then there’s the flighty Bradford girl—” "You don’t suspect her, do your I cried, horrified at the prospect of his Investigation taking this turn. "Be he retorted, “fm not FUgpe—* tn K anyone. . Fm only putting t down. , There’s the Bradford clrf her ex-husband. He’s a bigthat makes him a crook. Thosetwo men you saw in the park, oneof them with a sear on his facewell run them down. Ton know a tbs scar-faced man goes to, so

that’s a start. There’s the man who shadowed you—would you know him again if you saw him?” I shook my bead doubtfully. “Pm afraid not,” I admitted, “you <bw<» ** BV V _ “Don’t bother to explain. You either won id or wouldn’t, end that’s all we need to know now. There’s old Mr. Gaston and his wife. It’s queer about their ducking out so suddenly and leaving no address, but maybe they’re only scared. Let’s see who else is there —the Bradford servants and the old man’s, the old washerwoman — and the families who live In the house. We’ve got the circle pretty well covered, haven’t wef’ More and more I had begun to appreciate how valuable the services of an experienced detective would be likely to be in helping to solve the mystery. “Look here, Gorman,” I said, “why can’t you take charge of this case for us?" “What's in It?" he asked. My face fell, and my enthusiasm died a sudden death. -Once more I was confronted by the specter of my poverty. Of what use my talking to a high-priced Investigator like Gorman when all the money I hadjn the world was less than two hundred dollars, out of which I had to live until I found employment. Yet I must serve Barbara Bradford. “If you clear up this case,” I announced, “I’ll give you every cent Pve got In the world.” He shook his head. “It ain’t enough. If I take this case, It won’t be for the money that’s in it. For that matter I can get all I want from old Gaston for getting his pearls back. That’ll be enough.” “Then you will take the case,” I cried jubilantly. “On one condition. That you’ll promise to keep everything away from the police.” •Til promise that for myself and Miss Bradford, too. That was the one reason she advanced against my telling you about things. She was afraid you’d call In the police.” “Never fear about that. There’s nothing Td like better than to put It over that bunch of young reformers they’ve got down in Center street. This hotel work don’t suit me, nhyhow. Tve been thinking of opening up an office of my own. The recovery of the Gaston pearls would be a nice feather In my cap to start with.” “I see." I replied, “but you’ll need money for expenses and that sort of thing, won’t you? I have —” “Leave that part of It to me,” he retorted with a quizzical smile. “After all the years I was on the police force I ain’t exactly broke by a long shot All you’ve got to do is to keep your eyes open and let me know all that goes on in the apartment house. I’ll attend to the rest. Don’t do anything, though, without consulting me first.” “I’ll gladly promise that”

"Good enough. We’d better arrange then to meet here every day at three sharp. It’s as good a place as any.” "I’ll be here.” "And look out you’re not trailed. They may try shadowing you again.” “Who do you mean by they?” I asked eagerly. “Them that trailed you yesterday,” replied Gorman with a grin. “If you don’t know, I don’t know either—yet.” From his manner I, was confident that he already had a shrewd suspicion as to the identity of some of the miscreants. The maze in the center of which he had placed Miss Bradford and myself meant far more to him, undoubtedly, than it did to me. More than likely his vast knowledge of the methods of criminals and his acquaintanceship with others like Lefty Moore had given him clues enough as to where to look for the plotters. I realized that it would be useless to question him further. He would admit suspecting no one until he was sure of their guilt, a quality I admired greatly. —— - “You can count on me,” I repeated. “I’ll be here at three tomorrow.” Yet how foolish it was for any of us to predict what we will be doing or where we will be twenty-four hours from now. Seldom do things happen in the routine of our lives as we had anticipated. I was not there the next day at the time appointed. By no possibility could I have been there, however much I might have wished to. Many things bad happened in quick succession.

How it came about that my promise to meet Gorman went unfulfilled can best be explained by narrating the events of the evening after I returned to the Granddeck. It wm nearly five when I left the detective. I strolled leisurely down town and had dinner in the case where on one occasion I had seen the scar-faced man. I lingered there for a long time over my coffee hoping in vain that he might appear. I even ventured to cautiously question the waiter and head waiter, describing the man as best I could, but both of them insisted that they never had seen any such person. As I walked home I kept a wary eye out to make sure I was not being followed, but apparently no one was dow shadowing me.

It was nine-thirty when I reached home. It had been arranged that Barbara about ten would signal me that we might have a chat from our respective windows. I sat in my room waiting for the time to come, I was reviewing the case In all Its aspects. Indeed there was hardly a waking moment that I was not thinking of the many mysteries about us. I was wondering if. when the case was cleared up the mysterious whispers that we all had heard would also be explained. I recalled Claire Bradford’s unexpected visit to my apartment the evening before and her confusion when I had captured her. I wondered If ,the explanations she had offered had been the truth. Was she really trying to locate the source of the whispers? I looked interestedly up at the section of the wall that I had found her Inspecting. What had she hoped to discover there? I decided to make a close Inspection of both sides of the wall. As I lighted up the sitting room and hall for this purpose, something unusual came to my notice that had hitherto escaped me enturely. THE INNER WALL OF MY ROOM —the one running along the hall of the apartment —HAD THE APPEAR-, ANCE OF BEING AT LEAST FOUR FEET THICK.

It seemed so absurd that I refused to believe the evidence my eyes had given me. In these modern days of steel construction there was no reason for a wall being of medieval proportions. I sprang to my great-aunt’s work basket and began rummaging to see If I could find a tape measure, and luckily my search was quickly rewarded. I sketched a rough diagram of the rear rooms, and began measuring them off, carefully checking my figures as I went along. I fouhd myself growing wildly excited as the tape measure confirmed what my eyes already had told me. The inner wall was at least four feet thick. With thrills at the thought of the possibility of a secret passage there, I climbed up on a chair just as Claire Bradford had done, and began inspecting the wall inch by inch. Even

As I, Trembling All Over at the Thought of the Peril She Had Been In, Put My Arma About Her and Helped Her In.

as I did so I could not help laughing at myself. The Idea .that a modern apartment building might contain a secret passage was utterly ridiculous, yet as I pounded lightly on the wall it gave forth a hollow sound, vastly different from any other part of the room. I was convinced that between my room and the hall there was space enough at least for a passageway In winch a man might walk. I surveyed with growing Interest the wooden paneling that in my room ran clear up to the ceiling. In the other rooms there was no paneling. Mounting the chair again I pressed sharply against the wood at the point from which the sound had seemed to come. It seemed to me it gave a little to my touch. I struck one of the sections a sharp blow. It dropped back a full half-inch, leaving what looked like a doorway—a space three feet wide by five feet high. The bottom of the opening was hardly two feet from the floor. If there was a passageway here, this panel certainly would explain how my rooms had been surreptitiously visited. Feverishly I worked at the'panel trying to push It further back. If there was a passageway there in the wall I was determined to see whither it led. My efforts to move the panel further seemed hopeless. As I worked at it I heard a tapping on my window sill. It must be Barbara. In my excitement over the find I hgd forgotten all about the time. I sprang from the chair and rushed to the window. I found her peering out, trying to ascertain why I had not answered her signal. “Oh,” she breathed- with relief, as my head appeared, “you were there. Did you see the detective?" “Yes,” 1 replied, speaking as low as my excited state would permit me, “but just now I discovered something vastly more important,”

•‘What Is Itr "A secret passageway leading into my room. It seems to run along hall. The wall there is at least four feet thick —room for a man to walk. There is a panel in the wall In my room leading into it I was Just prying it open when you signaled.” “Oh, how I wish I could see it!” "Why can’t you? Slip out of your front door, and Fil be at my door to admit you.” “I can’t de that Mother and Claire are in the front pitrt of the house playing bridge with some guests. They will be sure me going out” "Come in tomorrow morning,) then,” I suggested. She did not answer, and before I realized what she wad doing, Barbara was out on the ledge making her perilous way across to my window. “If Claire can do this, I can,” she announced triumphantly, as I, trembling all over at the thought of the peril she had been In, put my arms about her and helped her in. “Darling,” I cried, still holding her in my arms, "don’t ever do that again. It’s too dangerous. Promise me, Barbara, dear, you’ll never againtry that” . ■ — With her pretty face flushed at the terms of endearment that had unwittingly escaped me, she laughingly released herself from my arms. “That was nothing,” she said in a tense whisper. “Where’s the panel?” Relieved to find that she was not angered by my presumption, I hastened to turn up the light and pdinted at the hole in the wall. As I had done, she sprang up on the chair and endeavored to push the panel further back, but was unable to budge it. Quicker wltted than I, she then tried sliding it along. At the slightest touch it slid back in a groove, revealing the opening—leading into what? Striking a match, we both of us peered In. The space between the walls was certainly high enough and side enough for a man to walk there in comfort. So far as the flickering light of the match enabled us to Judge, it ran the length of the hall, and near its further end there appeared to be some steps. “Come,” cried the intrepid Barbara, “let’s explore it.” “No,” I said firmly. “We must do nothing until I have seen the detective. We have put the case In his -hands.” — A —— r—“But we must find otit about it,” protested the girl. “Tomorrow,” I said. “We know where It Is. We know where the voices and whispers come from noir.” “I wonder,” she said thoughtfully, "if there Is the same sort of a passageway In our apartment?” “Promise me that If you find there Is one, you will not attempt to explore It alone.” As we argued about It we both stopped short and with blanching faces listened. From somewhere — it sounded as If it was right below us—we heard sounds as if two people were struggling. Then came a woman's shriek, a wild scream with the death terror in it The, sound seemed close at hand. It seemed to come right up from the opening in the panel by which we were standing.

Once more there came an awful scream —a scream stopped off short as If some brutal hand had throttled the woman’s throat. “What Is It?” cried Barbara. “Listen,” I commanded. “It seems to come from the floor below.” Holding our breaths we strained our ears for further sounds. Suddenly a shot rang out, and there was a thud as if a body had fallen to the floor. Then all was silence. With terror in pnr faces we turned to each other, seeking an explanation which neither could give. “Mother —Claire!” cried Barbara. “They’ll be alarmed. I must go back to them at once.”

“She’s been murdered. Get the police quick.”

(TO BE CONTINUED.)