Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 6 July 1936 — Page 6
BEGIN HERE TODAY ‘Claire Fosdick sets out to drive to the lonely mountain home left by her eccentrie uncle, Lyman Fosdick. Claire #s trying to decide whether to marry Nick Baum, to whom she owes money. She alse hopes to find a valuable and mysterious jewel owned by her uncle and believed to be hidden in the house. Her car is wrecked by a log across the road. Pat Magan, an old friend, and Bob Steele, young engineer, arrive on the scene and take Claire to the mountain house, where Eb Spratt and his sister, Susie, are the caretakers. Dan Dallas, the hired man, reports that the watchdog has been shot. Claire goes to her room for the night. She sees a curious arrow carved on the wall, pointing to a cupola. Lamp in hand, Claire goes to the | cupola. Suddenly and noiselessly, the lamp is shattered. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
CHAPTER FO LAIRE had been too exsjted to notice that her hand was hurt by the broken glass, but now she was conscious of a throbbing pain. Pat tried to stop the bleeding with his handkerchief and Susie sent Eb for water and bandages. “This Dan Dallas,” Bob said. “Does he sleep on the premises?” Susie jerked around. “Yes, in the little cabin down near the tool house,” she answered. “He's a—" ‘‘Hold your tongue, Susie,” ordered Eb, who had come back in time to hear the conversation. He turned to Steele. “Say, you ain't figurin’ Dan had anything to do with this, are you?” “We don’t know where this shooting‘ is coming from nor who's doing it, so naturally I suspect any one,” answered Bob coldly. Pat arose. “The three of us had better give the place the once-over right now.” For an hour the lights from the men's lanterns: flickered about the grounds as a careful search was made. . | But not a frace of anything or any one could be found. Dcwn at his cabin, Dan had been awakened and questioned, but said he had seen nothing that would indicate a hostile prowler. “I looked around the place after the dog was Killed,” he told them, “but I couldn’t find any one” “And you didn't hear anything later?” asked Bob. \ “Nope,” Dan answered. Pat meantime had walked over to a corner of the cabin and picked up a gun that was leaning against the wall. He opened this casually, then pointed at the magazine. “This shell is empty, Dallas. Looks like it had been fired recently.” The man turned and looked coolly at his questioner. “I shot one bullet at a coyote yesterday,” he said. “Well, come along out with us now. We're going to look over the place,” Eb ordered. sn n 8
AYLIGHT was breaking when the search finally ended without result. The men tramped back into the house. Claire was telling Susie again about the mark on the wall behind the bed. Dan listened with an expression of interest in his eyes. “Didn't you ever run across that mark when you were cleaning the room, Susie?” he asked suddenly. “Sure.” She cast a quick glance at him. “But how should I know it meant anything?” Pat, who had dropped into a chair, now sprang to his feet. “Come on, Bob. It's light enough now to go up to the cupola and give it the once-over.” “And you and I had better get breakfast started, Susie,” Claire suggested. ‘‘We all need something to eat after such a night.” “Call us when it's ready,” said Eb, motioning to Dan to come with him. “We’ll be down at the tool house.” The two young men went upstairs to the cupola where Claire's lamp had been shot to pieces. Splinters of glass still covered the floor. The bullet that caused the disorder was embedded in the wall. ” ”» ” fry came from the direction of that slope over there.” Bob eyed the densely wooded mountain that rose directly opposite the House of Long Shadows. “Did you notice Dan's gun?” asked Pat. “Could it do the trick?” “I think so. We'll dig the bullet out and see if it fits.” Bob opened
his pocket knife as he spoke. “Since |.
no one seems to have heard the shot probably it was the same gun with the same silencer that got the dog.” Pat glanced at his friend but made no comment. In a few minutes the bullet lay in his hand. Both examined it and Bob put it in his pocket. Fifteen minutes’ intensive search of the cupola revealed nothing more. If the arrow mark really pointed to the stairway to the lookout, any further signs on the weath-er-beaten walls had been erased by the elements. At the open door of the bedroom
that had belonged, to Lyman Fos- |
dick, Pat paused. The big fourposter bed was still pulled out from the wall as Claire had left it, so they could see the small mark on
" the wall.
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“It points toward the stairs all right,” said Pat. “Nothing else on that side of the room but that case for books.” He walked across and examined the volumes on the shelves. “The old boy seems to have gone in for variety—mining, poetry, travel, finance, and politics.” “Anything on jewels?” asked Bob. “Nope, unless you count that one, ‘Jewels of Verse’ Come on, I'm starved.” Pat started for the door.
” ” 2 REAKFAST was ready when they came downstairs. Susie insisted that they sit right down and went to call Eb and Dan Dallas.
the lamp?” Claire asked. For answer Bob held out the piece of lead. “Probably fired from that slope opposite.” The girl's face turned white. “Then—then some one did try to kill me!” Susie and Dan coming back cut short-the conversation. “Where’s Eb?” asked Pat. “Dan said he went back to lock the tool house,” Susie explained, taking her place at the table. “He’ll be along directly.” : “Ever loan that gun of yours to any one, Dan?” asked Pat. “Eb used it sometimes,” answered the man, looking levelly: at his questioner. “Why?’ “I just wondered.” “Did he ever use a silencer on it, Dallas?” asked Bob Steele. “Not that I know of,” Dallas told him. “A silencer?” Susie looked questioningly from one, to the other. “Yes, a gadget to cut out the sound of the shot, Miss Spratt.”
# ” ”
USIE dropped a knife to the «J floor with a clatter. “Mr. Pat, was that why we didn’t hear anything when Trigger was shot, and when Claire was up in the cupola?” “We think<so, Miss Spratt.” “Lord love us!” gasped the woman: “Then they could creep up on us and murder us in our beds, and nobody’d be the wiser!” “Don’t get panicky, Susie,” Claire soothed her. “Nothing can hurt us in the house here.” “I ain’t so sure,” answered Susie. “There's been queer goings on ‘round here even afore you come up.” “What do you mean?” Pat edged forward eagerly. “Oh, Susie just gets a case of nerves now and then,” interrupted Dan. Pat went on, quizzing Susie. “You mean you heard or saw something you didn’t understand?” For a minute the housekeeper did not reply. Then she lowered her voice. “Yes I did. Three times I've heard a soft-liké noise in the night. Once it was so loud I routed Eb out to listen, but it stopped as soon as we struck a light.” “Likely a pack rat,” Dan.
suggested
{8 8 =
ACK rats don’t chip edges off stone foundations,” answered Susie. “You found stones chipped, Miss Pratt?” asked Bob. “Yep. The corner of the house out by the root cellar. The wind blew something off the clothesline and when I went over there tc get it, I saw the fresh marks. And they was tellin’ me down at the village that the white miner had been seen again.” “The white miner?” asked Claire. “Sure—the white miner. That's what we all called him. Probably ‘cause we never knew his real name, and he had the freshest, whitest skin ever you see. He was from over near Tin Cup way, Claire.”
“It was a bullet, then, that broke
Susie’s eyes. “It happened durin’ the mining boom, while your Uncle Lyman was here, and I was keepin’ house for him. A likely youngster— the white miner. Used to come down to the town for grub and
t “What happened to him?” Pat asked. “Oh, he took up with a fellow who come from out California ways. They went up to the kid's claim and worked it all summer. Ore ran pretty good, too. I used to see quite a lot of them both when they come down for the town dances. Then one night they'd both been drinking a lot and had a fight.” “Over you, perhaps, Miss Spratt?” asked Pat, his eyes twinkling. “I'll bet you were by way of being a town belle when you were young.”
” # #
USIE shot him a coquettish glance. “Go on with you, Mr. Pat.” Then she sobered. “I aint sayin’ what was the cause o’ the row. Anyway they drifted long toward morning and we never see the white miner again. And the other one only once more when he went through town on his way back to California, so he said. “A year or two after some one found a man’s skeleton under the flooring in their cabin. They couldn’t prove it- was the kid, though you
“And some one's met up with] §
him lately?” asked Bob Steele. Susie nodded solemnly. “George Banes, the butcher down in the village, said he seen him plain over near the big dump on Squaw Mountain the other night.” Dan abruptly pushed back his chair. : “Where's that?” asked Pat. “Opposite the house here,” Claire fold him. She added slowly, “The mountain that fired the gun at
me.” “Um.” Pat shrugged his shoulders. “This is getting good—white miner—mysterious shootings. Come on, let’s go out and look at these chippings where: some one’s been getting busy. I'd like to do a little digging’ myself around the cupola. See if we can unearth another arrow sign.” ” = o 1= sun was beginning to redden the sky as ‘they went outside. “Wonder where Eb is?” asked Bob. “Ill go down to the tool house and get some shovels from him. Dan said he was there, didn’t he?” Pat nodded and walked on around the cupola. Dan was already there,
staring down at the ground. “Some
one’s already started digging here.”
“Well, I found it down near the tool house, but Eb wasn’t there. Did he come up here?” “No,” began Pat and then stopped. “What the——2" “Yes,” said Bob slowly. “‘There are fresh blood stains on it. Blood —but where is Eb?"
(To Be Continued)
MEN’S GARDEN CLUB TO MEET WEDNESDAY
Rock Gardens to Be Discussed at Monthly Gathering. A talk on construction and maintenance of rock gardens is to fea-
ture the monthly meeting of the In-
dianapolis Men's Garden Club at the home of E. L. Bennett, Cold Springs-rd, Wednesday night. L. H. Galleher is to talk, and a report is to be read on the recent session of the State Federation of Garden Clubs at Muncie.
ME VICTINS OF TRUNK HIGHWAY
Memorial Elms and Maples to Be Transplanted in City Park.
Times Special MUNCIE, Ind, July 6.—South Madison-st residents today looked upon tree plats left bare of majestic elms and maples more than half a century old. Workmen manning a tractor dragged thepn out to make room for a project that will route four state roads into Muncie. On one side of the street, however, trees that were planted by neighborhood residents in honor of their sons who fought in the World War were fo be transplanted into Heekin Park.
Petition Was Presented
The neighborhood presented a petition to have the course of the highway project changed. Mrs, John Dawson, who stood in front of her home watching the great trees crash into the street
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ago. Pointing to the trees planted as memorials, Mrs, Pearl Cowan, another resident, said: “Why couldn't they have gone down some street that doesn’t have shade trees?”
More Trees to Be Planted “They say,” she continued, “that the trees will be moved to the
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for every tree felled, two new ones |
with trunks from three to five inches in diameter would be planted back of the new curb line.
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