The Syracuse and Lake Wawasee Journal, Volume 12, Number 49, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 1 April 1920 — Page 5

KjSHdjjjS^ f^VTiispers jl'jV William nw t rp 4io ~ r Jf v Johnston 'o*o~yr t. ra IrwinMyew

"THE LITTLE PEOPLE." Synopsis.—Spalding Nelson receives an invitation to dinner from liis great-uncle, Rufus Gaston. On the way he meets Barbara Bradford and renders her a service. She lives in the same apartment building as the Gastons. They go there together. Gaston and his wife are going to Maine for a trip and ask Nelson to live in their apartments.. He accepts. The Gastons tell him mysterious noises about the apartment—“whispers” and noises that have scared them. Going to the apartment a few days later Nelson again meets Barbara, his accidental acquaintance. Nelson meets the building superintendent, Wick, and instinctively dislikes him. In a wall safe he finds a necklace of magnificent pearls. Next day Nelson finds the pearl 3 have disappeared from the wall safe. His first‘idea of informing the police is not acted upon because of peculiar circumstances. He has been discharged from liis position without adequate explanation or reason, and feels himself, involved in something of a mystery. He decides to conduct an investigation himself: That nig&t Barbara signals from tlie window of her apartment, which is opposite his, and they arrange a meeting for next day. In the morning he rinds a note in his room, asking him why he had not informed the police of the loss of the jewels. Barbara tells Nelson her sister Claire had some years before made a run-away marriage with an adventurer, from whom she was soon parted, and the marriage had been annulled. Claire is engaged to be married and someone knowing of her escapade "’fihs stolen documents concerning the affair from the Bradford apartment and is attempting to blackmail the Bradfords, Nelson ancr Barbara exchange confidences about the "whispers,” mysterious notes and other queer doings, which are much alike in both apartments.

CHAPTER V—Continued. — 6 —• I wondered which had been his bedroom. It was hardly likely that he had occupied the room in which I slept. As I debated the matter I heard someone moving about my room and went to investigate. It was Mrs. Burke, making up my bed. She would know which room my great-uncle had been accustomed to occupy. As l entered the bedroom for the purpose of cross-questioning her, toy first impression—and philosopers tell us that the first is most likely to be the correct one —was of a simple-mind-ed, kindly old Irish woman of the utm< se honesty. I was certain just by linking at her that there wasn't a crooked hair in her head, even if she had had the intelligence necessary for , crimes beyond the ordinary. “It’s Mr. Nelson I’m seeing at last,” she exclaimed with satisfaction. “I was wondering when I woukl be laying eyes on ye.” “Yes,” said I,” “I am Mr. Nelson, Mr. Gaston's great-nephew.” “Sure and I’d have knowed ye anywhere. It’s as like ye are as two peas, barring the old gentleman’s white hairs.” Her statement rather startled me, tor while I never had regarded myself as an Adonis, on the other hand I never had supposed I looked anything like old Rufus. “Was this my great-uncle’s bedroom when he was here?” I asked, trying to make my inquiry seem casual. “It was and it wasn’t,” Mrs. Burke replied. “He gets queer notions, the ■ould gentleman does. In the last few weeks he’s slept in every room in the house.” “What made him do that?” “It’s not for me to be saying.” Devoutly she crossed herself. “Some- “ Sometimes I Do Be Tanking the House Is Haunted." times I do be thinking the house is haunted. The old man wees all the time mumbling about —” She hesitated and looked furtively about. “About whispers,” I suggested. Instead of replying to my question she ■shot another one at me. “And have ye been hearing them, (too?” I laughed, trying to put a note of merriment into my tones. “I don’t believe in things like that.” The old woman nodded her head sagely. “It ain’t believing in them things that makes you hear them. Either you hear them or you don’t. The old man heard them.” “How do you know?” “Didn’t I hear him asking meself about It? He heard them, many times.” £ “How about the others —-the servants —did they hear them, too?” “They may have that. Niggers Is

always hearing things anyhow. It’s what the white} folk hear that counts.” j “How about the other apartments in | the house? po the people in them hear whispers?}!’ “Never that; I’ve heard tell of, but how should I know? This is the only place in the house that I work.” "Did Mrs. Gaston ever speak to you | about it?” “She did and she did not. She nev- j er in so many words asked me if I heard them. All she says to me was, i ‘Nora, if ever you see or hear anything ] strange or unusual here, you’re to let j me know at once.’ And I says, ‘Yis, | Mrs. Gaston, I will.’ ” "And have you ever seen or heard anything?” The old woman busied herself with making up the bed for a moment before she answered me. “I’m not saying I’ve seen anything,” j she began, “but there’s things I could ; be telling if I was minded to open my j lips.” “If you know anything,” I said, “you must tell me. Mr. Gaston put me here ; to find out wSiat was wrong.” “There’s nii doubt there’s wrong j here.” “What makjes you say that? What , have you seek? What do you know?” “It’s neither what I’ve seen nor what I know}.” She nodded mysteriously. “It’s jwhat I’ve been hearing I myself.” I “For heaven’s sake, woman,” I cried. 1 losing patience, “what is it you’ve heard?" “I’ve heard them walking,” she announced witli an air of triumph. “You’ve heard who walking?” “The little people, of course. Who else would it be doing* it?” “Oil, bosh!}’ I exclaimed. I was well enough acquainted with the superstitions of the j Irish to uriderstand who she meant by “the little people.” It’s the habit of [ the old crones from the Emerald islp to attribute anything they cannot Understand to fairies. “You may faugh,” she retorted indignantly, “but j I heard them, I tell ye.” “Where did you hear them, these footsteps?” , “Coming right out of the wall, here in tliis roonj, and in the kitchen, beyond.” | “It was probably somebody in an- ! other apartment you heard.” j “It was riqt. The floors do be deadj ened like, ftM., jit’s nothing at all you j cun hear. |t was somebody walking I soft-like right there in the wall at me back.” I “Well,” I ! announced, “if there is anything like that going on, I am going to "Stay; here until I hear it. I want to make ‘sure no one can come info the apartment but myself, so I am going to ask you to give me your key. I’ll be home here all the axioming, so I can let you in when you ring.” “It’s me key you’re wanting, is it?” She produced it from a pocket of her gown hnd handed it over, first unknotting jit from a corner of her kerchief where she had tied it for safe keeping. } “And indeied if it’s meself you’re not trusting with a key after Mrs. Gaston letting me have it for these ten years back, it’s yjour own bed you can be making. I’l) not be coming near the place again}” In fine indignation she flounced out of the place. To tell the truth I was not sorry that she had announced her decision not to return. While my impression of her was that she was a simple-minded old woman of uttermost honesty, I jwas just as well satisfied that no one but myself should have entry to the apartment until I had finished my investigations and had made further progress in solving the mysteries that were so rapidly developing. Left once more to myself, I sat down at my great-uncle’s desk and made out a list of questions that must be answered: ! 1. Where! was Rufus Gaston? Had the old gentleman really gone away or was he In hiding in the building? 2. Who had removed the Gaston pearls frorg the wall safe? It must be someone who knew the combination. | 3. Who had written the note I found on the floor 'of my bedroom? How and when had it been placed on the floor there? 4. Who \yere the persons who were trying to blackmail the family next door? * 5. How had the anonymous notes been delivered on the floor of Barbara Bradford’s room? (Evidently the writer was the same as in my case.) 6. Was tjhere anything in the past relations qf Mr. Bradford and my great-unclej that would cause my great-uncle, to plot against the Bradford family? 7. How were the mysterious sounds heard both by my great-uncle, by Barbara Bradford, ahd by myself to be accounted for? 8. How were the mysterious footsteps heard by Sirs. Burke to be explained? Were they merely the imaginings of a superstitious old woman? The relations between Mr. Bradford and Rufus Gaston puzzled me. Miss Bradford’s recollection of her father’s remark about my great-unrie certainly indicated that he held no high opinion of him. My great-uncle’s actions throughout had been peculiar. His suddenly sending for me and insisting on my coming here to live, his insistence on leaving his wife’s jewels in my care, and ‘on entrusting me with the combination of the safe, all now took on a sinister aspect. It certainly was peculiar that he had gone off without leaving me any address where he could be ren^hed.

. . > THE SYRACUSE AND LAKE WAWASfffI AL

Then, too, there was my own unexpected and unwarranted discharge at | my place of business. I was positive j in some way it was connected with my having cojtne to this place to live. Had my great-uncle himself brought It about for the purpose of discrediting me? Was it the w’ork of the blackmailers to get square with me for having accidentally butted in on the meeting they had arranged with Miss Bradford? The sor-faeed man! Who was he? I was certain that he was in some way involved. It might have been he who had caused me to lose my job. Certainly the malevolent glance he had given me in the restaurant that night showed that he would have wrought me harm if he could. The next time I laid eyes on him I was determined to trail him with bulldog tenacity until I ascertained his identity and where he lived. I felt sure that the trail of the mystery would lead to his door. I decided not to. leave the apartment all day. I had laid in a plentiful supply of food the day before so there was no necessity for my going out. I There was plenty of work for me to ! do. I must try to devise some way | of examining the safe door and the : jewel box that remained for evidence of fingerprints, and. I must inspect the ! building both from within and without ! to see if I could learn how tire notes I were delivered. From one of the toilet tables I obtained some fine powder and opening the wall safe again I took out the j jewel box and carefully dusted it over ! with the powder. I hoped that the I powder would reveal markings of j ! hands on the box, but either I was too ■ inexperienced or my methoxj was wrong, for I succeeded in obtaining 1 Gazed at It Horror-Stricken. no sort of result, beyond finding out I what my own fingerprints looked like !on a sheet of j paper prepared with some home-made lampblack. After an hour or two of experimentation I gave it up as a bad job, and turned to the study of methods by which the notes might have been delivered. The Gaston apartment was on the sixth floor of the building, which was surrounded by ordinary three and four-story dwelling houses. It must have been someoixe in the building, if not in the apartment itself. It would j be quite possible for someone on the floor above to have projected the notes through ray window and that of Miss Bradford by attaching them to the end of a long stick. I made up my mind to ascertain who occupied the apartments above. . The mystery of the whispers did not seem to be of such easy solution. While I had been inclined at first to regard my own experience as a dreapx, the coincidence of Miss Bradford and my great-uncle having had the same illusion convinced me that it was some claptrap devised by the plotters for preying on the fears of their intended victims. Eagerly I waited for the coming of evening and from half-past seven on I sat by my window waiting for Barbara’s signal. It was nearly nine o’clock before I heard the three taps that had so startled me the evening before. Quickly I thrust my head out of the window and was rewarded by seeing hex’s appear at the same moment. “We must not talk long,” she warned me. "Someone might see us. Have you learned anything new?” “Yes,” I whispered. “In my uncle’s diary I found several entries about the whispers.” “How strange!” she exclaimed. “Where is Mr. Gaston?” * “I don’t know.” “That’s funny.” “It’s more than that. It Is decidedly odd that he left no word where he could be reached.” “I don’t blame him,” she almost sobbed. “I wish we could all get away off somewhere, away from it all.” “Don’t worry. Everything we find out will help discover the plotters. Tell me from what part of your room did the sounds come.” “Always from the same place, up in the corner, near, the ceiling.” “I thought so,” I answered. “That’s where they came from in my room. That shows it is just some mechanical trick they are using in the hope of terrifying ns. Do you know who lives on the floor above?” “I haven’t the slightest idea. 1 Do you suspect them?” “I suspect everybody until this mystery is solved,” I replied almost savagely. “Not so loud, they may hear you. Have you learned anything else?” “No, nothing. I questioned old Mrs. Burke, Mrs. Gaston’s laundress. She knew nothing, although she insisted i that she had often heard footsteps when there was no one In the apartment. Os course it is only' her imagination.” “I’m not so sure,” Miss Bradford whispered. “I’ve heard them, too. They seemed to come right out of the wall.” “Why,” I exclaimed in amazement, “that’s just how she described them.” “Often, too, when I get up in the morning I have a strange feeling that there must have been someone in my I room while I was asleep.” J "How strange !” I muttered, more to

myself than to her. “I wonder it u could be anyone walking in their sleep,” “Too mean” —she hesitated—“my sister?” ' * "I don’t mean anyone,” I hastened to say. “I was only thinking aloud, wondering if it could be a possible explanation. I have heard of innocent persons doing all sorts of things under hypnotic influence.” “I’ve read of that, too,” she said soberly, “I wonder—” She left the sentence unfinished, but I felt that the same thought had flashed into her mind as into mine. Was it possible that the unscrupulous Frenchman who had wronged her sister years ago had in some way recently gained an interview with her and had gotten her once more into his power? Could it be that under the spell of another’s mind Claire Bradford herself had taken away the papers concerning the annulment of her marriage and was placing the notes in the blackmail plot? “Look here.” I said determinedly, “we’ve got to see each other somewhere tomorrow and talk this over. Where can we meet?” “I’m afraid I can’t manage it tomorrow. I’m busy with my mother and sister all day long. Tuesday, perhaps. But we mustn’t talk here longer. Good night.” “Good night,” I called softly but her head had been already withdrawn, so quickly that I hardly knew whether she heard me. As I was about ready for bed I recalled that I had spent most of the money I had in my pockets. so I visited the bookcase where I j had seci'eted my hoard and taking out a twenty-dollar bill, wrapped it about the three one-dollar hills I had left and put the roll in my trousers pocket. The next morning, as I was dx-ess-ing, I happened to draw forth my money. I gazed at it horror-stricken. I distinctly recalled having wrapped the twenty-dollar hill about the three smaller bills. Now one of the dollar bills was on the outside. There before me was indisputable evidence that someone had been in my room while I slept, someone had gone through my pockgts and had examined my money. Someone hnd put the dollar bill on the outside of the roll. Who had done it? How had they got into the room? | . ■ -Tl Enter Gorman, the detective. (TO BE CONTINUED.) PATRON SAINT OF HATTERS f Why St. Clement Has Long Been Accorded Recognition by Makers of Head Coverings. St. Clement is known as the patron j saint of hatters, because of his dis- ( covery for the making of a compact ■j fabi’ic out of wool without pressure or weaving. The story goes that this devout priest, while on a journey, became footsore and tii’ed, and, removing his sandals, sought rest by the roadj side. J St. Clement vsaswsooa disturbed by tlife bleating of lambs. Looking up, 1 h 4 beheld a fox just- seized of the helpless young sheep. He cleared a hedge just in time to destroy the fox and rescue the lamb, in the process of which act he observed loose wool, which he gathered and examined. The priest was struck by the sudden inspiration that here was relief for his lacerated feet. Binding the yielding wool on his wounds, he was able to continue his journey. On reaching his destination St. Clement removed the sandals from his feet, discovering instead of the fine soft wool a piece of unfinished cloth, seemingly so' firm and thick that he couldn’t pull it apart. He called the matted material “felt.” This accidental knowledge of the priest caused the basic principle that underlies the men’s hat industry. November 23 has been named SL Clement’s day and is a red-letter day for the hat manufacturers of many countries. Rock Cannon. When the island of Malta was under the rule of the Knights of Malta they defended their sovereignty with cannon bored in the rock. Each ofce of these strange weapons contained an entire barrel of powder, and as it was not possible to vary the aim of the cannon fifty of them were made ready, facing various directions from which the enemy might approach. When the fame of these arms of defense became known to the world the idea was conceived of transporting rock to the summits to serve the same purpose but the scheme was impracticable. Date With a Party. My partner £x business was called out of town and was not expected to return for a few days, so when I met his wife on the street she remarked that she was lonesome and I asked her to meet me late and have dinner with me. It was all arranged and I went to the oflice to fix up for the occasion when in came hubby and wanted to know why the dolling up, so I said that I had a date with a party. When I met my friend’s wife I told her hubby had returned and she said: “Why I know it; I told him you and I were going out to dine.” —Exchange. Find Value of Various Woods. Investigations by the agricultural department show that one standard cord of well-seasoned hickory, oak, beech, birch, hard maple, ash, elm, locust or cherry w r ood is approximately equal to one ton of anthracite coal. A. cord and a half of soft maple or two cords of cedar, poplar or bass wood are required to. give the same amount of heat. One cord of wellseasoned mixed wood equals at least one ton of average grade bitumipous coaL Quite True. “That fellow got money out of me by telling me he was in the trenches and he never went to war at all.” “But he told you the truth. He is , employed laying gas pipe**-' 5

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LIFT OFF CORNS! Doesn’t hurt at all and costa only a few cents i Magic! Just drop a little Freezone on that touchy corn, instantly it stops aching, then you lift the corn off with j the fingers! Truly! No humbug! Try Freezone! Your druggist sells j a tiny bottle for a few cents, sufficient j to rid your feet of every hard corn, j soft corn, or corn between the toes, and calluses, without one particle of pain, soreness or irritation. Freezone is the discovery of a noted Cinciifnati genius.—Adv. Identified. It was a dark night and the car was speading homeward at a terrible rate. “What road have you taken, James?” cried Mrs. Jflithers, as the car jolted her high m the air. “The regular boulevard, Mrs. Blithers,” returned the chauffeur. “But I never noticed all these thank-you-marxns on the boulevard before,” protested Mrs. Blithers. “Oh,” laughed the chauffeur, “those were not thank-you-marms, Mrs. Blithers ! They were just a few people who couldn’t get out of the way.” Whereupon Mrs. Blithers laughed, too. What a droll mistake it was, to be sure! —Pittsburgh Sun. OLD GARMENTS NEW WHEN DIAMOND DYED Shabby, Faded, Old Apparel Turns Fresh and Colorful. Don’t worry about perfect results. Use “Diamond Dyes,” guaranteed to give a new, rich, fadeless color to any fabric, whether Jt be wool, silk, linen, cotton or mixed goods,—dresses, blouses, stockings, skirts, children’s coats, feathers —everything! Direction Book in package tells how to diamond dye ovt>r any color. To match any material, have dealer show you “Diamond Dye” Color Card. —Adv. Chinese Newspaper in France. A Chinese weekly newspaper has been started in Paris by Daniel Fu for the benefit of the thousands of Chinese sent there to act as laborers during the war and who are now- employed in reconstruction work, according to a far eastern information bureau. The paper is produced by a photographic process, the sheets having been hand-written, since it is impossible to get Chinese type in France. The paper sells at 2 cents a copy, and Is said to be the first Chinese newspaper produced in France. Watch Cuticura Improve Your Skin. On rising and retiring gently smear the face with Cuticura Ointment. Wash off Ointment in five minutes with Cuticura Soap and hot water. It is wonderful sometimes what Cuticura will do for poor complexions, dandruff, itching and red rough hands. —Adv. Practicing Law. The Yegg—Well, you got me, all right, mister. I s’pose you’re going to turn me over to the bulls. The Eminent Counselor—Certainly not. In that case I’d get only a witness fee of a dollar. I’m going to be your attorney. My retaining fee will be this roll of bills I found in your vest. Good night Sore Eyes, Blood-Shot Eyes, Watexy Eyes, Sticky Eyes, all healed promptly with nightly applications of Roman Eye Balsam.— Adv. Answer That Was No Answer. George M. Cohan was cross-examin-ing applicants for parts in one of his new productions. “Can you dance?” he asked of a young chap who had been waiting an hour. “Sure,” replied the candidate. “Can you sing?” continued Cohan. “Well,” replied the other, “I can sing as good as you can.” “But I asked you,” retorted Cohan, “can you sing?”

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