Evening Republican, Volume 23, Number 174, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 July 1920 — Page 2

The House of Whispers

CHAPTER IX—Continued. —l2— -*——. —— As I pondered over It I decided that My chance meeting with Barbara Bradford tn the park had upset the plana of a blackmailing band, and that they were avenging themselves on me for my unwitting part. 1 was certain that Wick and Lefty Moore'S wife were tn connivance with them, and that'the gang possibly Included Claire Bradford’s ex-husband. Wick had a passkey that enabled him to enter the Lutan apartment- Undoubtedly he could also enter mine as well. But Wick could have nothing to do with the planting of the revolver tn my rooms. I was positive about that He had not been out of my sight for a single moment from the time that we had discovered the body. The only way that It seemed possible to involve him In that was on the theory of a prearranged plot to make me appear the murderer. Was It possible that Claire Bradford had participated in this? I knew she had been In my rooms after the murder. It must have been she who put the revolver there. One of the detectives who had arrested me appeared at my ceil door. “Come along," he commanded gruffly. I came out I was again shackled and led to the patrol wagon that was watting. I had supposed that I was being taken to court to be arraigned, but such was not the case. I found myself at police headquarters, where both my photograph and my fingerprints were taken. I refrained from giving any Information about myself, beyond giving my name and age. being careful to have my name recorded as John S. Nelson. Out In my home town everybody for years had known me by my middle name “Spaulding.” and I was hopeful that they might fall to Identify me If they read anything about me. When everything that might serve to identify me had been recorded, I was taken into a large room where perhaps half a hundred men were assembled, most of them wearing masks. I looked about with curiosity. I had read of thia ceremony. I was being “lined up” before the members of the city’s detective force to see if any of them could identify me and to give them an opportunity to familiarise themselves with my features in case It should ever be necessary to arrest me again. “Never saw him before.” I heard one of them say. “Guess he must be a western crook."

“He's no amateur,” said another. “That Job up at the Granddeck was done by a professional.” Many slighting comments were made, too, on my personal appearance. I learned for the first time that I had a “bad ear.” and that my eyes were shifty. The only emotion these comments aroused In me was a feeling of pity, not for myself but for all poor unfortunates who tall afoul of the law. Even though a man is presumed to be innocent until he has been convicted I had observed that since the first moment of my arrest everybody had taken it for granted that I must be guilty and had treated me with little respect or consideration. From headquarters I was taken to the police court and without further delay brought before a magistrate. “John S. Nelson, arrested for the murder of Daisy Imtan," said the detective. “Have you counsel?” asked the magistrate.

“No.” I replied. “I will assign Mr. Myers as the prisoner’s counsel," he announced. A young chap, evidently just out of law school, stepped forward, and drew me a little to one side. “Plead ‘Not guilty,’” he directed, “and be careful to say nothing more.” “Of course,” I replied. ‘Tm not guilty. I had nothing to do with It” I could see by his face that he did not believe me and as I turned again to the court I made up my mind that even if the court had assigned him as my counsel I would tell him nothing. “How do you plead?” asked the court

“Not guilty,” I replied. “Remanded without bail for further examination until Thursday morning.” snapped the court, and I was led back into an anteroom, Mr. Myers and the detective accompanying me. The latter there surrendered me to some official, presumably a prison keeper. “Looks pretty bad for you,” said Myers, as we were left alone for consui tattoo. “I suppose it does look that way,” I IBU “No chance to make it self-defense,” he went on, plainly amazed at my manner. “No jury’d ever stand for a burglar shooting in self-defense." “Na” I admitted, “I suppose they (wouldn't, Fortunately Pm no bur“If we could make out it was a Hovers’ quarrel,” he suggested. U I had ever known Miss Lutan,” I admitted, “that might not make a “Look here." he replied Indignantly, “young fellow, you are up against ft basdar than you seem to realise.

They’ve got the goods on you. and It’ll be the chair for yours if you’re not careful. You’ve got no chance proving an alibi.” “Why not? I never saw Miss Luton until I saw her body In her rooms. I never was in her rooms until I went in there with Mr. Wick after we had heard the shot What’s more. I never owned a revolver tn my life and never saw the one the detectives found until they pulled it out of my dresser drawer.”

Incredulously be listened. I could see that he did not believe a word I was saying. “You don’t look like a dope fiend, either," he observed scathingly. “Look here." I retorted, “it is bad enough to have the police take It for granted that I am a criminal and a murderer, but when the counsel the court assigns me starts out on the same course, we. quit right now. I’ll get a lawyer of my own when I need one."

’Til come around this afternoon and see you again." he said coolly. “A few hours in the Tombs will make you see things differently.” A few minutes later I found myself ensconced tn a cell again, still confident of my speedy release, but somewhat puzzled as to what would be my best method of procedure. I was Unacquainted with any lawyers; In fact, with any one in the whole city with whom I could consult My Immediate hope lay in my friend. Detective Gorman. There was nothing for me to do but to wait until I heard from him. Fortunately I had had the forethought when the detectives were arresting me to take from Its hidingplace in the bookcase my little hoard of money. This enabled me to send out of the prison and have a luncheon brought In. Making myself as comfortable as possible, I sat down to wait for Gorman, occupying my mind meanwhile with thinking of Barbara Bradford.

The thing uppermost In my mind was how to prevent her from being in any way involved. She must never know that only by her testimony w-ould I be able to prove an alibi. Should she ever realize this. I knew that her sense of Justice would make her come forward and tell the truth, even though It meant the loss of her own reputation and the scandalizing of all her acquaintances. She must not be permitted to talk. — She must not even try to see me while I was In prison. The one way—the only way—l saw by which I could escape from the law’s tolls without implicating her was through the speedy rounding up of the band of criminals who I was positive were responsible for Miss Luton’s murder as well as for all our troubles. I was relying on Gorman to do this. A keeper’s voice Interrupted my chain of thought. “You’re wanted down In the counsel room," he said. “There Is a visitor for you." “A visitor.” I cried excitedly. “Who is it?” I thought of course It must be Gorman come to my rescue.

“It’s your sister,” he announced. My sister! A thrill shot through me at his announcement I knew of course it could not be my sister. Both of them were mere children far away in the West. It must be Barbara.

I Stood There Astounded. It Was Not Barbara; it Was Her Sister Claire.

Undoubtedly she had resorted to this ruse to make sure of seeing me while at the same time concealing her own identity. Overjoyed at her coming, delighted to know that I had read her heart aright ■ and that my confidence tn her trust in me was justified. I hastened with the keeper to meet her. Delighted as I was at her coming. I was formulating in my mind how best to make it dear to her that she must leave at once and that no matter what happened she must keep her lips closed about the events of last night. Under no circumstances would I permit her to sacrifice herself to save me. In the counsel room a veiled figure awaited me. I sprang forward eagerly toward her. The woman standing there put up one hand in a repelling gesture and then flung back bar vufl.

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

By WILLIAM JOHNSTON

1 stood there astounded. It was not Barbara. It was her sister Claire.

CHAPTER X. For a full minute Claire Bradford and I stood there observing each other. Even before a word was spoken I think we both sensed our mutual distrust. As I studied her, I was trying to conjecture what could have been the motive so impelling that she bad dared to come even within prison walls to see me. Had Barbara sent her? I doubted it. I was sure that more than likely her visit was to plead with me to keep silent about her part in the tragedy. I was certain she was going to ask me to pledge my word to tell no one of her second visit to the Gaston apartment. Yet as I studied her weak, beautiful face, so like Barbara’s and yet so different, with Its sensuous mouth and roving, brilliant eyes, I still was wondering how It was possible for a girl of her refinement and social position to have become enmeshed with such common criminals as the two employees of the Granddeck, Wick and the telephone girl. “To what am I indebted for the honor of this visit," I asked at length, adding withsome sarcasm, “from my sister?”

Never for a second had I Imagined that other than a selfish motive could have brought her thither, and the conversation that followed was all the more surprising to me on that account. “I had to say I was your sister,” she answered quickly. “I wanted to be sure of seeing you and I did not wish anyone to recognize me. You know, I believe, who I am?” “You are Barbara's sister," I replied. “That’s why I came,” she cried, ’Tor Barbara’s sake. I have come to plead with you for her.” “To plead—with me—for her,” I echoed in astonishment.

“Yes,” she cried passionately. “She’s young. She’s little more than a child. She did not realize what she was doing. You must not let anyone know you even know her. You must never, never tell.” “Never tell what?” I answered noncommittally. She answered with a convulsive sob. I thought for a little that she was going to break down completely. Her manner and the pallor of her face attracted" the attention of the keeper who was In the room with us, and he started forward as If expecting her to fall In a faint Resolutely she pulled herself together and went on in calmer tones.

“Oh, I know all about it. I know that she is completely fascinated by you. I know that she has been meeting you in the park. I know that she has lunched with you at the Astor.” She hesitated and her face crimsoned —“I know that she has even visited you in your rooms late at night. Oh, please, please, I beg of you. if there is a spark of manhood in you, do not take advantage of a silly girl’s weakness. Please help me protect my little sister’s name; promise—you will, won’t you?" = “Why should I?” I replied carelessly, repressing my desire to leap at once to Barbara’s defense and explain how pure and honorable her conduct had been and how lofty the motive that had governed her actions. Tempted though I was to defend her, I realized that this might be an opportunity to learn something of Claire Bradford’s associates, and I determined to make the most of It How else could she know of all my meetings with Barbara unless she was in league with the persons who had been having me shadowed? How the knowledge that Barbara had been in my apartment could have come to her was a mystery beyond me. I would have sworn that that was a secret sacred to our two selves. “Listen to me," she commanded, speaking in low tones, "Barbara is my baby sister, innocent of the ways of the world. I must save her from herself, and her heedlessness. Never, never, if I can help it. shall she suffer the agony and shame and disgrace that I have known. Years ago L just as she is now. became infatuated with a man far below me in the social scale. He, too. was a criminal.” I sniffed Indignantly at the “he, too,” but she paid no attention. “I ran away from school and married him and learned too late that he had a wife and child already. All my life, ever since, that terrible thing has followed me. It’s like a specter ever rising to confront me. Even if I have to kill you. 1 am going to save my little sister from following in my steps.” “Where is Gaston Maurice now?" I asked. “Have you seen him recently?” She gasped and shuddered, looking at me incredulously. “You." she breathed excitedly, “who are you? How do you know his name?" “Never mind how I know it” I seplied. “What I want to know is where is he now? When did you see him last?” “Not years—not since long be-

fore my father’s death—not since the marriage was annulled." “Nor beard from him." I persisted. “No. nor beard from him," she hesitated. “unless —” “Unless what?" I insisted, as she stopped abruptly. “I can’t tell you," she said firmly. “I don’t know. They must have come from him, from someone that knew—the letters.” “What letters? Tell me about them.” “I can’t tell what I don’t know. I haven’t the least idea where Gaston Maurice is. 1 bad hoped be was dead in the war. Yet he can’t be. I have had anonymous letters threatening me. They must-have come from him or from someone whom he told of our marriage? How else could they know?" Her distress was so real and her manner so convincing that I decided that she must be telling the truth. ■ “Well.” said L “if yon cannot tell me where to find Gaston Mauries there is one thing that you can tell me.” “What is that?” “Why did you visit my apartment late last night? Why did you put that revolver in my dresser?” ’’Revolver," she queried In a puzzled tone, “what revolver?” “The revolver with which Miss Lntan was killed.” She eyed me In shocked surprise. “Why do you say this to me? I never saw the revolver." “You cannot deny that you were in my apartment last night.”” “But the revolver.” she protested. “What do you mean by that? I know nothing of any revolver.” “Last night, a few minutes after Miss Luton was murdered,” I said sternly, “some man or woman entered

“You Cannot Deny That You Were In My Apartment Last Night.”

my rooms and placed a revolver with one chamber discharged In the dresser in my bedroom. It was evidently placed there for the purpose of throwing suspicion on me, of making me out the murderer. The detectives found it there and arrested me. If you did not enter my apartment to hide the revolver, why then were you there?”

“I knew nothing about the murder," she answered irrelevantly, “until this morning—until I read about it in the papers.” “What about Wick?” 1 hurled at her. “Didn’t Wick tell your “Wick,” she repeated in a puzzled way. “Oh. Mr. Wick, the superintendent. No, I have not seen him for several days." “Did you do nothing yesterday at his direction?” “How absurd! Of course not.” “Why, then, did you go into my rooms?” She looked at me with a frightened face, and her manner became , mors confused. “I really believe you are trying to implicate me in your crime,” she ejaculated. “It’s absurd for you to try to question me this way.” “Lady," interrupted the keeper, “you’ll have to be going now. Time’s up.” “Promise me,” she begged hastily In an undertone, as she departed, “whatever you think about me, you’ll keep my sister out of it.” “I’ll promise nothing, unless you confess everything,” I repeated, determined, if I could, to drag her secret from her, even though L as well as she, was eager to shield Barbara’s name.

Claire Bradford’s attitude, I must confess, puzzled me greatly. Her denial that she had seen the revolver, or that she had been working in conjunction with Wick seemed to ring true, and I was also Inclined to believe her statement that she knew nothing of’her former husband’s present whereabouts. While I was pondering over her statements, my cell door opened .and Gorman was let In. “Well, young fellow,” he said, “this sleuthing business didn’t turn out exactly the way we expected It to, did itr “You don’t think rm guilty, do you?’ I waited in agony for his answer. If he failed me, there was no one. absolutely no one, to whom I could turn. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

Unappreciative Guest.

Ralph, three years old. was pending the day with his aunt. Thinking a custard would appeal to him. she inquired if he liked them, at which be answered “Oh, my. yea.” However upon being served it fell short of his expectations. He ate a little and passing it to his aunt said: “You can have It Aunt Myra. lam so full, and if you want some water to wash It down, here’s my giasa.”

SLANG IN CLASSIC

Pages of Cervantes Full of Colloquialisms. Variety of Terms by Many Thought te Be Modem Can Be Found In * "Don Quixote" and in Rabelais' Works, "They now spurred on toward the Inn, and soon overtook on the road a/young fellow,- beating it on the hoof pretty leisurely.” “No, no, it shall never be said of me, the eaten bread Is forgotten, or that I thought it working for a dead horse, because I am paid in , advance.” Extracts from a recent western novel? By no means; quotations from a world classic written 400 years ago. In a recent reading of “Don Quixote” I have been struck by the fact that it is a vast storehouse of what we fondly believe to be American slang. And this is not by any twisting of the sense: the terms are used strictly in their modern significance. It is true that I do not read the book in its original tongue, but the translation is that of Peter Anthony Motteaux, and was made more than 200 years ago, so that it has a fair degree of antiquity. This Huguenot merchant, who settled in London after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, picked up a remarkable knowledge of homely, Idiomatic English, and his language is always racy of the soil.

“Take It from me, you will lose your labor,” says the Knight of the Sorrowful (not Rueful or Woeful In Motteaux) Countenace to Donna Rodriguez, and this is one of his favorite phrases. "I had a mind to cabbage some of his cloth,” confesses the tailor brought before Sancho as governor of his Island of Barataria for judgment. When Altlsidora sang her mock serenade to the Incorruptible and unyielding knight, she declared herself a “virgin pullet,’* a “tender chicken,” and thought that Dulcinea “well may brag of such a kid.” “I had not cared a pin though she had died of the pip, was Sancho’s philosophy, and he begs his master not to “die merely of the mulligrubs.” The squire complains that he had been “ribroasted by above four hundred Moors,” and admitted that it was not for “such scrubs as myself’ to be mentioned the same day with knightserrant. Although by his own admission a mere clown, Sancho says, “I know what’s what, and have always taken care of the main chance.” He tells his master that the latter “had the wrong sow by the earhis belly cries cupboardhe Is “cocksurehe believed that the giant In the adventure of the wine skins had “gone to pot,” and he reproached the knight for not “going snacks” in his beatings. One of the galley slaves would have gone free for 20 ducats “to have greased the recorder’s fist.” The don chides his niece that she should “presume to put in her oar and censure the histories of knights-errant ” Motteaux finished Sir Thomas Urquhart’s partial translation of Rabelais. The Frenchman and the doughty Scottish cavalier had equal knowledge of Anglo-Saxon colloquialisms, and where can one find more racy, pungent, downright English than in these two master translations?— Frank W. Hoyt in New York Evening Post.

Flying Fox Australian Pest.

The flying fox has appeared in South Australia as a new fruit pest. Farmers have killed quite a number of these creatures. A correspondent at Port Wakefield writes: “This morning some crows, while marauding amongst the brushes near the rifle target, put up a flying fox, which took a direct course for the river, about a mile distant. The crows followed, but when the fox looped the loop amongst them thev quickly flew in another direction. The flying fox appeared to be nearly 3 feet wide across the wings, .It had a fair amount of speed on the wing and much i-esembled a bat.” The flying fox, so-called because of Its., foxshaped head, has been previously found In other parts of Australia and is sometimes known as the fruit bat.

An Everlasting Memorial.

Nature has a great part in this lasting and beautiful memorial, that is to be erected to the local service men in the city of Santa Monica, Cal. It is to be a large open-air theater, and will take the conventional Greek form, with seats aranged in concentric tiers, the orchestral area in the center and pillared stage at the bottom of the slope. As in the conventional theaters of ancient Greece, the site and background will be a beautiful wooded hillside. The level area in the center will be floored with mosaic stone work. This beautiful tribute to the service men will, no doubt, be the pride of the citizens of this city for many years to come.

Division of Income.

“Tn my opinion,” writes a wife, “there is only one satisfactory arrangement which a young couple can make, and that is to take the weekly income and divide it into separate sums, something on the following lines—rent and charities and church collections, doctor, dentist, etc., holiday fund and savings, an equal sum for pocket money for meh of the young couple, an equal sum for dress for each. My husband and I have been wedded over six wura, end have two bonny children, but we always divide our weekly Incosm m this way.’-Happily Married.

SCRAPS of HUMOR

Superior Intelligence. “Why don’t you teach that dog to do some tricks?” “I have tried,” replied the man who lacks energy. “The dog won’t learn.” “Not enough intelligence?” “Too much. I can see by the expression of his face that dog doesn’t see any more sense in the tricks than I do.” v Let's Go. Flora—l see that several cities have forbidden the showing of Geisha Goldllock’s latest vamp picture. Fauna—Well, I’m not surprised. Her staff electrician told me that since they made the boudoir scene electric!* ty had no more shocks for him!— Film Fun. His Estate. Mrs. Knagg—My husband is not making the children wait for his death to come into their Inheritance from him. Mrs. Nexdoor —That’s nice. Will they get much? Mrs. Knaggs—Nothing but obstinate and quarrelsome dispositions. Sure Thing. "Don’t you think it is a frivolous life for women to make wax dolls of themselves?” „ “I should be inclined to consider It more of a cereoiis proposition.” Slight Results. “Did the flambuoyant evangelist have any success in his mission oi winning sinners?” “Well, the meeting place was ■ converted building.”

PERFECTLY SAFE. "I say. Jack, do you think I can safely ask your cousin to marry me ?” “Sure! She told me she wouldn’t marry you if there wasn’t another man on earth.”

A Man of Low Tone. The bass the fair soprano wooed, But suddenly did leave her; So she alleged when him she sued He was a bass deceiver. Its Condition. “That cemetery strike was a trivia! affair, wasn’t it?” “I hardly think so. Under any clr cumstances, it was bound to be * grave strike.” A R oast. Artist (showing latest picture)-rdt’i the best thing I ever did. Critic—Oh, well, you mustn’t let that discourage you.. r , ■ . * L. j '. . / r. - i Losing Experiment. “Did you have a hard time at th< hospital?” “I should say I had. I lost weight they gave me a weigh the first thing and they even took my temperature.’ Apropos, p Hampton—What are they going to call the first eugenic twins that were born In this town? Rhodes— Eugene and Eugenie. Her Redeeming Point “Your laundress seems to be a timid sort of woman.” “So she is. but she manages to put up a stiff front.”

Different Repasta. “At every meal my wife serves up a smite and a jest.” “The principal dish nfine gives me la tongue served with whine sauce." His Specialty, y There goes one of the most successful grafters in* the city.” . “Is he a politician?” “No; he’s a skin specialist” Oh, Fudge. “Omar wondered what the vintners bonght one-half so precious as the sluff they sold." ” “I know a man who outclasses them in value of products.” “As to how?” ? “He sells sand In large quantities." False Charge. “The prisoner is accused of uttering forged notes.” “The charge refutes Itself. The prisoner can’t utter anything. He is deaf and dumb."