Evening Republican, Volume 23, Number 195, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 August 1920 — Page 2

The House of Whispers

CHAPTER Xll— Continued. “Nothing doing." he sneered. “Any crook Jaring enough to steal those pearls, once he had got his hands on then., never would return them. Pearls are too easily disposed of. You’ve got to dig up a better explanation than that." “What did Mr. Gaston think? What did he say when he found them there?” “He had nothing to say. He was so tickled at finding them again that he hustled with them right away to the safe deposit vaults and did not rest until he had them safely locked up. He took both jewel cases with him and made me go along with him to protect them.” “Didn’t you look at all for the secret passageway I told you about?” "Still dreaming about that, are you?” aroffed Gorman. “Nd, we didn’t. On the way up to the Granddeck the old man spoke about it and I told him that In my opinion there was nothing to it After he recovered the pearls he was too excited to think about anything else. It seemed to break him all up, and I took him back to his hotel and left him there/ He «aid he had some writing to do, and that he would meet me at my office at noon today." “How do you account for the return of the pearls?” I cried desperately. “What’s your theory about them?” “Ihaven’t any,” he., replied. “It’s, up to you to explain it Maybe by the time I come to see you tomorrow you’ll have thought up a new yarn to spin.” “Please, please,” I called after him as he turned away; “do look tomorrow and see if that secret passage is not where I said It was." He walked away without answering. Bsck once more in my cell, I stretched myself despondently on my little iron cot, and closing my eyes, tried to concentrate my thoughts on an attempt to solve this new mystery, which I could plainly see had all but destroyed Gorman’s faith in my honesty. I must solve it if I was to retain him in aiding me to get free, yet the whole thing seemed inexplicable. 1 cccld hardly blame him for doubting vne The great value of the pearls had been motive enough for their theft, but what possible motive could there have been for the thief returning them? With a shock it came to me, too, , that the restoration of the pearls practically upset the whole theory of my defense. If I could have established the fact of this theft, a jury might be persuaded to believe my tale of anonymous notes, mysterious whispers. and a secret passageway by which the thief had gained access to the apartment, but without the motive of theft, my story, unsupported by witnesses and uncorroborated by other evidence, surely would be incredible of belief.

I had just one hope left Old Rufus must find that secret passageway and see. whither It led. That with our knowledge of the identity of the telephone girl and the possibility of proving Gorman's belief that Wick was an ex-convict seemed likely to he my only salvation. Old Rufus must find that passageway. He must! He must! For hours I lay there racking my brains over the unsolvable problems. My luncheon was brought in. but I waved it away untouched. Wearily I wondered whether the recovery of the pearls had destroyed my aged relative's faith in me, as it seemed to have destroyed Gorman’s. I could hardly blame him if he doubted me after finding that my story of the disappearance of the pearls was apparently untrue. In my brief experience as a prisoner I had learned all too well the bitter fact that once a man is discredited, henceforth no one trusts him. If Rufus Gaston failed me at this juncture I did not see how I could possibly extricate myself unscathed from the web that unseeen hands had so skillfully and maliciously woven around me. The only ray of comfort that I could find anywhere in the whole situation was in my firm belief that though old Rufus and Gorman and the whole world doubted me, Barbara Bradford—my Barbara, I ventured to call her in my Innermost heart—would continue to believe in me. She would be sure, no matter how much appearances went against me. that I was telling the truth.* Barbara and I knew. Even if she had not known that I could not possibly have fired the shot that killed Miss Lutan, I was certain that she still would have trusted me. Thinking about Barbara I recalled that it was the day of her si st er’s wedding. 1 had one of the prison attendants get me the evening papers to see what they had to say about it. for I was fearful lest some breath of scandal at the last moment involving the Bradfords might bring about a postponement. ’ Eagerly I was hoping that nothing bad happened to prevent place. With the w - v - Ai T /wwrnsa nW Wltfi *>*SV*»* W WMa W wv

smoother sailing, provided _pf course that I was acquitted. In the few chats I had had with her, I had realized that wealth and luxury add social position meant nothing to Barbara s happiness. She was the sort of girl who for a man she loved gladly would brave poverty, hardship, everything—a sincere, true-hearted woman with a clear vision of the real values of existence. t My messenger returned with the newspapers, and as I picked them up, everything went black. “Millionaire Gaston Found Murdered,” was the startling headline that flashed before me, right there in, the column next to the account of the Bradford wedding. The sinister effect of this terrible news dawned on me instantly. With my great-uncle Rufus dead, without the possibility of bls corroborating any part of my story, my case was hopeless, desperate. Unquestionably it would mean that I would be found guilty of murder and sentenced to death in the electric chair. As soon as I could sufficiently compose myself I read every word there was in the newspapers about this new tragedy, smiling grimly at the thought that at least they could not blame this murder on me.

Mr. Gaston, It appeared, had come to the Granddeck about ten o’clo'ck In the morning and had gone at once to his apartment. On his arrival he had been greeted by the telephone girl and had Informed her that he was only in the city for a few days and was staying at a hotel. He had added that he would not be occupying the apartment for several weeks until his wife’s return to the city. About half-past twelve there had come a telephone call for him. The girl had been unable to get arty response from the apartment. Knowing that he had not gone out, and fearing that he might have had a sudden attack of illness, she had become alarpjed and notified Mr. Wick, the superintendent The superintendent, the account continued, had summoned Mr. Henry Kent the owner of the Granddeck apartments. Together they had gone to Mr. Gaston’s rooms. Being unable to get any reply to repeated rings and knocks they had finally let themselves In with a pass key in possession of the owner of the building. ' In his study In the rear of the apartment they were horrified to find old Rufus Gaston, fully clad, lying on the floor, face down, stone dead. A great wound on the baek of his head showed that he had been killed, probably instantly, by a terrific blow from some sort of a blunt instrument. A search of the rooms failed to show any sort of a weapon.

The police theory was that the crime was undoubtedly the work of a burglar who had been trapped by the return of Mr. Gaston so unexpectedly to his apartment. How the murderer escaped after attacking Mr. Gaston was a puzzle to the detectives at work on the case. The superintendent of the building expressed the opinion that the murderer had gained access in the guise of a meter inspector. Attendants in the hall recalled that there had been such a man in tlje building that morning. As he wore the usual uniform and presented the customary credentials, hb had been permitted to enter and leave the building unmolested. There followed a long review of Rufus Gaston’s business career and an estimate of some of his extensive holdings in stocks, bonds and real estate,

"Millionaire Gaston Found Murdered," Was the Startling Headline That Flashed Before Me.

from which it appeared that his fortune was likely to run to over ten million dollars. It was with some surprise that I learned that a score or more of years ago the old man apparently had- been a powerful figure in the life of the metropolis, active both in its business and social life. What interested me most was the attention paid to the remarkable coincidence that only a few weeks before a murder had taken place in the apartment just below, under practically the same circumstances. The poUce, the account stated, were indined to believe that the murderer was one

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

By WILLIAM JOHNSTON

of the gang to which yonng Nelson, now in prison charged with the murder of Miss Lutan, undoubtedly belonged. Their theory was that a burglar gang succeeded in planting Nelson in the apartment as a caretaker, and that this enabled them to get their bearings in the building and provide themselves with false keys for ransacking ’the rooms at their leisure. The guilt of young Nelson, the police say, is established beyond question, and they are hopeful of being able to round up his associates. There was also, a brief interview with Wick, in which he was quoted as saying: “I was suspicious of Nelson from the start and tried to keep an eye on him. He was very secretive about his comings and goings and was always prying about trying to learn something about the other tenants. How Mr. Gaston came to employ him as caretaker I never learned, but It would be no hard matter for a slick young crook like him to impose on so old a man as Mr. Gaston with a cock and bull story.” I sniffed Indignantly as I read this. I knew that Wick was deliberately tryIng to stillfurther.discredit ine. I recalled that he himself had told me that Mr. Gaston had mentioned our relationship. It was obvjpus that he was deliberately withholding this information with a sinister purpose. That Wick knew well who had killed Rufus Gaston, just as he knew who had shot Daisy Lutan, I was morally certain. I was inclined to agree With Gorman that Wick himself was not the murderer. The fact that he was of a cowardly and cringing nature seemed to argue against associating him actively with crimes of violence. Yet the virulent way in which he was adding to the evidence against me showed plainly that he was industriously engaged In- masking the real murderer. Who could the murderer be? I was confident that the same person who had killed Miss Lutan had killed my great-uncle. I could only conjecture as to the motive. The police theory that it was burglary seemed as logical as any. The more I pondered over the matter the more firmly I became convinced that there was a numerous criminal band at the back of it all. No one man or two men could carry out all the deviltry, even with the help of the telephone girl. I recalled, too, how I had been skillfully shadowed, work that evidently required organization and employees. I was convinced that Wick and the telephone girl were only two —more than likely two minor members —of a powerful body of criminals. That it was this same sinister force that had caused my discharge from the office I was equally sure. This sort of thing took brains—far bigger brains than Wick gave any evidence of possessing. A peculiar apathy came over me as I finished reading the account. Never before had I so fully understood how thoroughly an innocent man could be damned by circumstantial evidence. I knew —Barbara knew —that I was absolutely innocent. I doubted much if we could get anyone else to believe it. The cunning web had been woven with such malicious thoroughness-that escape seemed impossible. What was the use of my fighting further?

CHAPTER XIII. Coming as it did as a dire climax to all my other troubles, the shock of old Rufus Gaston’s murder sent me into an apathetic state from which it seemed Impossible for me to arouse myself. Without hope and even without interest I dully awaited the approach of my trial for murder. While there never had been an opportunity for any bond of affection to become established between my aged relative' and myself—in fact, I had seen him only three or four times in my whole life, and then only for brief periods —still his unexpected and dreadful end had bereft me of practically every hope of being acquitted of the absurd charge against me. Wick, it was plain, intended to disclaim all knowledge of my relationship to Mr. Gaston, and now there was no one else to explain how I happened to be living in the building at the time of Miss Lutan’s murder. Unfortunately I had destroyed both Mr. Gaston’s letter to me and thp note from my mother which had first told me of the old man’s intention. My great-aunt, I learned from the newspapers, had been completely prostrated by the tragedy and had been unable to come to the funeral. The shock of the news of her husband’s violent end had left her in a very critical condition. It seemed to have wholly deranged her aged brain, and the physicians summoned to the Maine camp where she was refused to permit her to be removed from there or to let anyone, talk with her. declaring that the least excitement -of any sort would be apt to have fatal results. To be sure there was my mother, who could prove my relationship, but I felt there was Utile use of dragging her Into it. On reading of her uncle’s death she had hastened on from the

West to attend bls funeral and had been puzzled and alarmed by not finding me there. AU the time I had been tn prison I had been writing her my usual weekly letter, affecting a cheerfulness I was far from feeling and telling her nothing of what had happened. Her letters to me, addressed to the Granddeck, had been forwarded by the post office, so that until after she arrived in the city she knew’’ nothing of my plight It bad been that I would be able to conceal everything' from her until after I had been triumphantly acquitted. If 1 were not she would know the worst soon enough. When she first learned, or from what source, of my predicament 1 was unaware. I did not even know of her presence in the city until the day aftermy great-uncle’s funeral, when—just fUenty-four hours before my trial was to begin—a keeper brought me word that she was waiting downstairs to see me. 1 steeled myself for the Interview with her. Naturally I expected that she would be terribly horror stricken and shocked at my plight, but what her attitude toward me would be I could not conjecture. I fully expected nothing but reproaches from her. She had been so opposed to my coming to

“Oh, My Boy, My Boy!" She Had Cried as She Saw Me, “I Know You Didn't Do it.”

New York that I felt certain that she would insist that my conduct must be responsible for my being where I now was. For years, It seemed to me, the relations between my mother and myself had been nothing but continuous misunderstandings. To my great amazement and bewilderment not an unkind word nor the suggestion of a reproachful thought came from her lips. “Oh, my boy, my boy,” she had cried as she saw me, “I know you didn’t do it. I know my boy is Innocent I What can I do to help you?" In that glorious, wonderful moment of reaction all resentment 1 had felt toward her forever vanished. I had one sacred, unforgettable glimpse of the eternal greatness of the Motherheart, ever ready to forgive, ever quick to comprehend, ever prompt to aid. For one sweet hour we talked together, more understandingly than ever before -in our lives. Freely and fully I told her everything, even to my w’onderful but hopeless love for Barbara Bradford. She was willing, anxious, eager to aid me —but what was there that she could do?—what was there that anyone could do? It was hopeless for a lone woman of limited means, unacquainted with the big city and unused to its ways, to attempt to battle against such powerful and desperate criminals as were concerned in the far-reaching plot to make me the scapegoat of their heinous misdeeds. I could only advise her that she see McGregor and Gorman and be guided by what they suggested.

When the morning of my trial actually arrived I entered the courtroom In a state of dull apathy. The night before I had hot slept at all. I had spent all the black hours reviewing my life, especially the last year, thinking with what high hopes and great expectations I had come to the metropolis and how miserably everything had turned out for me. Step by step I had reviewed the events that had brought me, discredited,. aU but friendless, all but penniless. Into this dismal courtroom accused of a horrible, cowardly deed,- seeking to see wherein I might have altered my recent actions or changed the course of my life taxivoid having arrived at this shameful goal. Yet, strange to say, I found myself after mature reflection convinced that had I this last year to live over again not in one iota would I have done differently—no, not even If T could have foretold what the future had. In store for me. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

"Tempos Fuglt.."

The teacher gave Margaret some yafn and cardboard, and after showing her'how to work a design, told her to Anish it at home. When she came to school the nhxt day .with the half-fin-ished work, the teacher asked her why she had not finished It; If she had run out of yarn. “Oh, no," answered Margaret; “I Just run’d out of time."

For the Poor.

The Revenue Collector—You cant ran that tent show and pocket the proceeds without paying the war tax. That’s not a benevolence, as you claim. 1 The Owner Manager-My friend, if you were familiar with my circumstances and my show you’d consider the purchase of every ticket a real charity.

GREATER THAN THE SPHINX

Statue of Buddha, In Western China, la Truly One of the Marvels * es the World. For many years it has been known that about 'fifty miles from Jab-ding, in western China, there is a very large and remarkable statue of Buddha, but it was not until a very few years ago that it was ever described by an occidental. Dr. Sprague, an authority on things Chinese, visited it At the end of two days’ travel he reached the image and found it to be a colossus in size, although not so large as rumor had made it out The upper half of the hillside consists of a sandstone cliff and in this a niche fifty feet broad has been cut leaving a central core of stone that is carved in the shape of a figure seated In European style, not cross-legged, as Buddha iseo* often represented. The traveler found the height of the image to be not less than oqe hundred feet A series of five tiled roofs, descending like a flight Of steps, built in front of the image, protects it from the weather, so that only the face - can be seen from without When the doctor came within sight of the great Buddha he paused and rested from his Journey at a point near one of the gates to the walled city that lies in the valley below. As his eyes turned to the great face, which has been gilded until it shines like metal, as the immense size and perfect preservation of the idol made their impression, the thought came to him that “this is more marvelous than many of the world’s boasted wonders.” He thought of the colossi at Thebes and the Sphinx. Scarred and ruined and defaced by the hand of man and the effects of time, they are little better than lumps of battered rock. But far in the west of China sits this pld Buddha, unnoticed and almost unknown, yet greater in size than the Egyptian colossi, with his proportions preserved intact, with temples about and below him, and with the priests in attendance to keep the incense burning at his feet. There he sits, grimly gazing out over the tiled roofs of the city that lies before him.

Consul.

The word consul is of Latin origin, being derived from the verb consulo, I consider. As the name of an office it also had its origin in Rome in the early days of the republic. The' constitution of that republic was democratic^ beyond anything we knowtoday. The source of all power was the people. They elected the executive magistrates and the judges, and they enacted the laws, not through chosen representatives, but by direct action in an assembly of the whole people called the comitia. They had two chief executive officers of equal rank, elected each year, who were at the head of the work of governing. These were called consuls. In the end corruption and recurring periods of anarchy broke down the government, and an autocracy grew up, but which for years preserved many of the forms of the dead democracy. For five centuries under the empire, there were consuls, but they were without any real power. As a title of an office the word consul is still in use. Today a consul is a representative of his country’s commercial interests in a foreign country. The political representative is the ambassador.

Getting at the Facts.

“I wish to marry your daughter,” said the young man to the girl’s father, according to the Detroit Free Press. “Does she love you?” asked the father. “Yes, sir. And I love her.” “Well, that, of course, is the first necessary condition, but there are a few more questions I must ask. Have you made any shopping tours with her lately?” “No, sir.” "Ever been In a department store and asked the present price of women’s suits and hats?” “No, sir.”, “Know anything at all about the cost of provisions?” “Only "that which I have learned from the talk of others.” “Well, young man, my advice to you is to make a trip of Investigation. I don’t know what your present income is, but after you’ve learned for yourself Just what those clothes she wears are costing me. If you coine back and say that--you can support her in the style to which she has been accustomed lately, I’ll give my consent” -

The Eppo.

The Times of London announces the discovery by Captain Phillips in British Ruanda of a species of duiker. The natives know it as an eppo orempuyl and regard it with a good deal of respect as the totem-beast of Muslnga, the now reigning chief of that country of Ruanda, the greater part of which the peace conference has placed under the tutelage of/Belgium. The bamboo forest of Mount Sabino and other mountain forests provide the habitat of the eppo. In appearance the creature resembles a large goat and is a rufous black with a bright yellow stripe aldhg about half its lackbone. It has a stumpy tall, oribi horns, and marsh hoofs.

The Mumble Chock Book.

suppose,”jremarked the plaintive person, “that there are men in the world who can. forget about themselves and rejoice in the success of “I should hope So,” replied Senator Sorghum. “That is what many a campaign contributor is expected to da after the election is over*

ON THE FUNNY SIDE

THE MORE THE MERRIER. “Maybe,” mused Senator Sorghum, “it would be u good thing to have hundreds of thousands more government employees.” “What for?’ “So that statesmen who specialize on cutting down small salaries could make a more Impressive showing as to the amount saved in the aggregate. ’ Serious Blunder. “Did you ever hear such a» abjert apology in your life?” “The salesman realizes that lufwaa at fault.” “How so?” “He tried to sell a bricklayer the kind of shirts clerks, bookkeepers, editors and college professors wear.”

UNDERSEA WIT.

“Who, has old Shark been fleecing now?” ? “Why the poor suckers, of course I* Spoiled It. • - To flattery susceptible, A lady once we knew; j Being told she had a pretty chin , Started acquiring two. Papa’s Opinion. x “Marry that young snipe? Certainly not. He is only after your money, and he is, in my opinion, a fool.” “You are unjust father. Harold swears he would marry me if I had not a penny.” “Huh! Then he is even a greater Cool than I thought him to be!” Ar A Warning. “If yo’-all fools around muh gal ary nudder time, sah, I’ll—” ‘«Ca’m yo’sel’f, sah, ca’m yo’se’f! Fust thing yo’ knows yo’ll be making threats ag’ln me, and I won’t pay no ’tention to ’em. And then dess loogy at de “barrassment yo’ll feel I” Hard to Judge. “Has Bllthersby a sense of humor?” “I don’t know whether he has or not,” replied Jobson. “But lam convinced of one thing.” “What is that?” “He’s never laughed enough at one of my jokes to justify me in asking him for a loan.” I _ Financial Follow-Up. “Didn’t you say old Mr. Wadlelgh had a turn for thrift?” “It’s worse than that It’s a gift” “Yes?” “Why, he can take a dollar out of his pocket and tell you what it will be doing 20 years from now.”

LITERALLY.

Monk: Look at: old he’s just hopping mad. On Strike. We all keep learning more or less Beneath experience’s rule. Jurtnow some take too much-recess. And don’t mind being late for school. • Force of Habit. "HO came here from Pittsburgh.” ' "Yes.” "Can’t get used to daylight.” "Nor “Every time he leaves the office he looks for a fewitch with which to snap off the sunshine.” ‘ The Logic of the Case. ‘ The Young One—The old man said he wanted to get her off his hands and yet he wouldn’t listen to me when I spoke of marrying her. The, Wise One— Probably that’s the reason he wouldn’t listen to you. s-wk "Oh. Clara 1" exclaimed the yonog man on the sofa; “you have broken those two cigars I had in my pocket” “It’s really too bad, George,” replied the sweet young thing, “but why don’t you buy stronger dgarsF