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HE OSHAWA DAILY TIMES. TUESDAY, OCTOBER 16, 1928 AT WY THET g The coromer and police arvive order to investigate. Becanse of the murder, Dr, must remain at Southley the tioned by i Freeman, Now read on-- 3 "Yet you knew of this influence, The fact that Southley let his guest strike you before his face." "It seemed to me that they were the closest of friends." "And where were you just before the bell rang, when Southley told you to get out the car?" "In the kitchen." "How long?" "At least an hour before" And he told him what he doing to prove it. rnest corroborated my story pers fectly. . "And what did you think of the elder Hayward?" he was asked, "1 didn't like him." "And why not?" ; "fF didn't like his attitude with my father, He was too arrogant, and de- manded more than a guest should, His manners were often boorish. Nor did 1 like the way he threw his son with my sister." "T believe that was your sister's part to object--not yours." "Perhaps it is." : "And she made no objection." "Never, Of course 1 don't know ois_very well" ; The detective and 1 looked at him in amazement. "And what do you mean by that unusual speech?' the former asked, "That you don't know your sister very well" "Because we went to different schools. Both of us are comparative strangers to Southley Downs." The detective turned to Josephine, "And what light have you to throw on this matter, Miss Southley?" he was asked. g "None at all," the girl replied. "And where were you, after scene in the den?" : "I went straight to bed. My maid helped me undress," "And the Haywards must not have been so unpopular with you as with your brother and Ahmad?" 4 | was with both of them a great the "And I think you took Vilas' part against Dr. Long?" Her voice lowered, Yes," "And why did you do that?" "Because I couldn't do anything else under the circumstances." "You evidently didn't like Dr, M" B "I did like Dr. Long. But his re- lation with me was greatly different from that of Vilas." ; She looked squarely into his eyes as she talked. The room faded ex- cept for her, The faces of the watch- ing circle became a mist. I don't know why each answer she made seemed to go so deep into me--each word-- each inflection of voice and indelible imprint in my memory, I couldn't turn my eyes from her white face, I hardly heard the detective's ques- s when he turned to Southley. |ed came from somewhere far off, ease tell me, Southley, just what were the relations between you snd the Haywards" . "The elder Hayward and I were the oldest friends," the old man an- swered. He spoke falteringly, in the hesitant way of age. "They had been here almost a hi" (How long did you ask them His voice changed ever so slight. Vins long as they would remain," "You were in the den, in the scene between Pr. Long and the younger es." "You sided in with Vilas ward?" \ "Yes . "Did you think he was in the t " Hay- "I--I didn't know--for sure." "Then why did you take the stand you did?" His answer called me from my preoccupation. It rang in the quiet room. He spoke it softly, hesitantly; yet all other sounds became as noth- ing, eau Inspector Freeman," he said simply, "I couldn't do any other thing with wisdom, Because Vilas Hayward is going to .marry my daughter, Josephine." After dinner I met Inspector Free- man in the hall. He called me to one side. Perhaps he was a little more intent, a little more nervous and quick of motion than in the after. noon. "I'm in need of your help," he told me. "And I'm ready to give it." "Look in the kitchen and sce where Ahmad Das is, and what he is doing." I obeyed, on a plausible excuse, Ahmad Das was polishing the silver, I came back to report. "The coast is clear, then," the in- spector exulted. "Long, I want ycu ta come with me Ss search Ah- mad's rooms. I can trust you, I think, when I say that I haven't any fur- ther question but that the Hindu is the murderer." "Then you have discovered some- thing new." "No; but he was the one man who went out of the house with Hayward --the one man in striking range. 1 dont believe the Southleys were im- Plieated; and knowing you as I do y reputation; it is absurd to think that you were, That leaves Ahmad, We knew that he hated him, so we have a motive, But the Hindu's a funny duck, isn't he? "Did you ever see a man cross the room with such a funny, catlike stride? He walks as if he had cush- ions on his feet." We mounted to the third flight; then turned into Ahmad's room, My admiration for Freeman increased mightily when I saw him in action, It was impossible to imagine a more complete search. "If there's murder, there's bound to be blood," he said. "Nothing is so convincing to a court as a garment with blood on it. He's been kept retty busy since the murder, and fraont believe he'd have time to dis- pose of all his things. That's the chance I'm playing for." : But evidently Ahmad Das had fore. seen this contingency, The detective searched swiftly for twenty minutes; then paused to wipe the little beads of perspiration from his lean face, "It's no use," he said, "No clews worth finding." He started toward the "There's one place you searched at all," I told him, "Where?" He turned in ment, "That drawer full of linen." 1 pointed to a drawer in the dresser, "I glanced inte it, He wouldn't put it in such an obvious place as that, Ever Ahmad Das wouldn't be that much of a fool." "Perhaps, Inspector Freeman, you have never heard of M, Dupin?" Inspector Freeman stopped to con- sider, "His name's slipped my mind," he confessed, door. haven't amaze- *M. Dupin was a very famous de- " tective--a Frenchman, A very great American wrote about him long ago." "Oh, you mean a story-book de~ tective," Freeman scorned, "I'm glad to say I've never wasted my time reading such truck. None of 'em were ever practical, Practical men are the go nowadays. The time they wasted in theories and talk--" i "Yet sometimes their theories came out right. Mr. Dupin would have been the first to tell you that for the very reason that you would think that drawer too obvious 8 place for a man to hide a garment, it would be the very place an astute eriminal would hide it, He would know in ad- vance that you wouldn't look there and therefore it would be a good place. He proved it with the story of a stolen letter, hidden among a packet of other letters, in plain sight." : "It's all right in books; but it don't work out in life," Freeman comment- Of course I knew that as a whole he spoke the truth. But it had begun to dawn on me that Freeman was not the highest type of official de- tective, If he had been, I would never have asked the question about Du- pin; and I would not haye had the cold courage to lecture him now, "Then there was a later detective --a little, fat Catholic priest," I went on, "He asked his friend where a wise man would hide a pebble." "And his friend, if he had any sense, would haye said to bury it six feet under the ground and smooth off the top." "His friend told him to hide it on ~* oo wn dsnive {the beach, Then the detective asked where a wise man would hide a leaf. Ani the answer was--in the forest, I don't say that Ahmad Das would have chosen this drawer if he had time to cheose a better place. But it is' certainly the most likely place in this room." 1 went to the drawer and hunted among the garments. And I'm afraid the color came to my face. Evidently my theories were to go unsupported by fact. guess Ahmad Das didn't hide his pebble on the beach," the detec tive exulted. ! Then I looked twice at a newly laundered shirt that I had picked up and laid down before. It struck me as being an unusually heavy garment. Some inspiration made me unpin it, And folded within it was found an- other shirt, covered with great splotches of dark brown stain. Freeman leaped toward me and took the garment in his hands. Just for an instant he examined it. "Good Lord!" he exclaimed, "You've found it after all. Do you knew what those spots are?" "No. "They're blood. It's convincing proof. - And it's Ahmad's shirt, too." Swiftly he compared the laundry mark on it with the mark of the other garments in the drawer. 1 didn't dream that this austere man was capable of such exultation. His eyes actually seemed to glisten; and a high color suffused his lean, dark face. I thought of a hound hot upon the trail, "It's the final proof!" he cried. "We'll get him now. I'll wring a confession out of him." Then both of us drew up sharply. "Ahmad is coming into his room," I whispered. For I was sure that the faint sound I had heard had been the fall of Ahmad's light feet in the corridor, Both of us instinctively braced our- selves. We didn't know what frenzy of desperation we would have to face if Ahmad saw us with that condemn- ing evidence in our hands. A long moment dragged away. Then Freeman stole to the door. He looked up and down the corris dor, "Must have been a rat," he ex- claimed, "Rather noisy for a rat. "May be the wind. But we'd better get out of here. He'll come back any moment," I started to pin the dinner shirt into even folds, just as I had found "M. Dupin did the same with the envelope of the letter," I explained, "Then the criminal didn't know it had been found." "I do believe you've got the mak- ings of a detective!" Freeman told me with a little amazement. Then we crept down the stairs, He took the shirt into the room that had been given to him for his use; and rejoined me in the library, "I've got a hunch," he said. His face was clouded. Little wrink- les were flickering betwee» his eyes. I waited for him to expiam. "I've got an idea that some one's been following me this last three minutes. I'm not an imaginative man, Long, but I've had that hunch be- fore, I never believed it; but once I woke up in the hospital with a bump as'big as an egg over one eye where a billy had hit me--and knew that it had been so. It's a queer thing; yet I felt that way when 1 was going to my room just now. The noise we heard in the corridor seem- ed to bear it out. But it isn't Ahmad, I stole out and took a look at him, His hands are buried in flour. There is no one in the servant's quarters but a colored man or two, and that long-legged whiskered bird 'that brought you the rowboat. Robin, I believe you eall him." There was no answer worth mak- ing. So we sat and watched the dark- ness steal over the marshes. It seem- ed to me, that the waters had al- ready begun to recede. The flood had been the sole result of the ten inch- es of rain; now it was done, and the river was quickly falling, The Florida darkness is always worth watching. I comes so gently, 1|so like a dark mist that the wind blows up. The color of the water changed and deepened. The shadows that were the jungle grew black, Again we heard the sounds of wild life that the storm of the previous night had stilled. "We smoked cigars and talked. And after while one of the colored men came to tell us of a discovery. A flat"rock jutted from the hill- side about fifty yards from the scene of the murder, he said. Just at twi- light be had walked near it; and had noticed a queer discoloration on the stone. It was evidently clotted blood, he thought, and what looked like fragments of flesh, "You don't mean--human flesh?" Freeman asked, His eyes narrowed, ever so slight- ly. It was evident that the galored man was terrified almost beyon power of speech. "Yes, suh. 1 couldn't tell fo' sho. But it was some kind of flesh, suh." We didn't waste any more time. We hastened down the footpath. Al- though night had fallen, the darkness was nothing of the infiure as he walked ten paces in front of me. 1 could detect the shadows that were the stables and garages. and the nearer of the cottages of the tene sity of the night before. I was able to discern the outline of his colored farmhands. And then, at the same instant, both of saw another shadow. Some one was standing. perfectly still on the hillside. Of course we couldn't see plain. He was possibly fifty feet distant; and if we had not possessed such an accurate know- ledge of geography of the hill he might have easily been mistaken for a shrub or stump. He was doing that which all hunters learn to do, stand- ing perfectly still to avoid detection. He was trusting to the shadows to obscure him. We both stopped on the trail. "Who's there?" the detective de- manded. The shadow did not waver, "Who's there? Answer, or I'll shoot," Freeman insisted. He started across the turf toward him. And as a deer springs, the other sped down the hill in flight. There was something startling in the speed with which he ran. We flung out in pursuit, Freeman firing his pistol in the air. But even if he had wished, it would have been im- possible, except by the blindest luck, for the detective to have hit the fu- mitive. A pistol is never accurate at long range; and few marksmen can shoot 'at all in the darkness. In an instant our quarry faded, slipped away and melted in the shadows. We ran and cried out and hunted over the hill in vain. And after a while we meat again, on the path, "If that doesn't beat the devill" the detective greeted me. He was panting, and he swore softly between his gasps. "Long, there's plenty of things yet, about this case, that I don't know. "Do you think that was Ahmad?" "Couldn't have been. The Hindu was in the house when we left. But there isn't any doubt but that he committed the crime, I'm sure of that much, anyway. And now there's no- thing to do but go down and find that stone that the colored man told us about." We found the place where the body had been found, and struck off fifty yards directly to the left, The detective flashed his light about. He called out when he saw the stone. It was the only white rock in the vicinity, and it could not be mistak- en. He knelt quickly beside it, Then he got up with a little snort of disgust. "That colored man was crazy. 'Nothing here--but by the Lord!" He scarcely breathed as he rubbed his hand over the surface oi the rock. He bent until his eyes were within a few inches of its rough face, "What now?" I asked. "Somebody's beat us to it, that's all. This rock has just been washed oif, with water, Either there's another amateur detective around this place --cleaned off the clots to make blood- tests--or else the walls of that old house have ears!" "What do you think?" "What is there cise to think but that some one came down here and destroyed thes evidence?" Freeman made a close examination of the soil about the rock, The man who had preceded us had left one clew at least, There was a bare bit of soil just beside the stone where no grass had. grown, and in it we found the clear, sharp imprint of a man's heel, "But it might be the track of the colored man that told us about it," I suggested, "And it might not be, too. If I don't do anything else I ought to, at least, observe who I'm talking to, and all about him. That darky was barefoot." "Then it's the track of the man we chased a moment ago?" "Of course, He'd come up here, just before we did, He either collect- ed the evidence for some amateur experiments of his own, or, what's more likely, destroyed it to protect the murderer. But there's something funny about this print." He bent ov. er it with his light, "You see it's per- fectly clear--a perfect imprint. Never saw a better, dn happens to be particularly sticky, and there are ne grass roots to interfere, Probably the water drained off the stone and soft: ened it, in yesterday's rain, And the odd thing about it is that the heel hasn't any nails in it." "A rubber heel, then?" "Evidently--but not the kind of rubber heel you wear. Most of them have some sort of non-skid devices, This heel is solid rubber." He took a long-bladed hunting knife from his pocket, and with in- finite care, cut the earth around the imprint, and lifted it from the ground, I thought it would crumble at first, But the soil itself had a sticky qual- ity, and some of the grass roots around it helped to hold the little cube of earth together. "It isn't safe to leave it fi:re," he explained. "But I'll be lucky if get it to the house. An: nis, Dr. Long, gives us something eise to think about." We thought about it as we walked back toward the house. And I thought of many things, particularly those never-to-be-forgotten words of the elder Southley: "My daughter is going to marry Vilas Hayward," the old man had said. Her face had given no sign whether or not he had sooken' the truth Ia the seconds that followed, it might have been that she anc at me, But she didn't hold t enough for me to tell for sure. Her face as it had been was still my eyes; soft-lined, shadow-eyed. And 1 was scornful at my senseless optimism that I even presumed to doubt but that her father had spoken the truth--that I was even fool enough to h otherwise. Of course she had loved Vilas from the first. Nothing else mattered. She was the kind of wi whose love subjugated all other things, Her king to me, the gentleness with which she looked and smiled, might have been simply the expression of a sweet girlishness such as most men, some time in their lives, are fortune ate enough to know. And again it might have been contrivance, design, the pur< pose of which was hidden in the in- tricate web of the mystery. Perhaps unconsciously I was playing a part in the drama of the old house, and her relations with me were in some mysterious way involved. _ Yet I couldn't bring myself to ques- tion her motives. It was simply im possible for me to accuse her of acs tual craft, But in the test her true feelings had stood forth. She had shown where she really stood. The fact that I was to leave the house in disgrace meant nothing to her. Her love had spread its wings above all such things as this. I had not mattered a grain of dust on the window sill. Of course I hadn't forgotten her hesitancy, Perhaps there had been regrets--in- decision--but the truth had come out in the end. And it had come out again in the little scene beside the marsh, whem I had been ready to leave the estate with the coroner. It was not to he forgotten that her lips had told the detective of my dispute with the Haywards, bringing down upon me a certain measure of suspicion, I remembered how she and Vilas Hayward had always been together, And it only cost me a laugh to re- member that I had attributed this fact to the mysterious forces that were at play in the old mansion, rather than to her own wish. Her love for him was evidently the most passionate, intense kind, hardly to be expected in the slender, appealing girl. She showed this fact in her willingness to sacrifice for him. But why had she been ready to kill him that night in the den? The look in her eyes as she leaned across the table could not be mistaken, Yet many times before, in the long years of the world, women have kill ed the men they loved. Conditions have arisen in which love itself was the power that pressed back the finger against the pistol trigger. It was not for any man to say. The question went deep into the mystery of a woman's heart. She had tried ta kill him, and yet she loved him He brought sorrow to her eyes; and yet it made no difference. It was seemingly a love not to he measured, And I wished that I could go beyond glance long |le the dull, 'strange reaches of the swamps, and never return to South- y Downs again. "After all," 1 heard Inspector Free- man saying, "I don't see why should worry about these things. Such things as the tracks that the niggers tell about in the road--and that chap who ran away from us on the hill--and all the rest of this funny business. I've got my man, and that's the only thing that matters." 1 don't know how much he had said that I had not heard. My thoughts had been too busy. "So you're sure of it, are you?" "It's a clear case. Blood-stained shirt--ancient enmity--above all things, the fact that he's the one man, except of course Hayward's own son, that hasn't an alibi. He went outdoors with him. Nothing to it at all, Long. We climbed the steps of the great house, and parted in the hall. The detective took the clod that held the imprint up to his room to de- posit with the shirt. He was to meet me in the library immediately after. I waited a long time for him to come. And when at last I heard him on the stair, he walked as slow- ly as pall-bearer with a bier. Every step was distinct and slow, instead of the usual tap-tap of his quick mo- tions. Then I saw him in the candle. light at the door of the library. And never have 1 seen such bewilderment upon the face of a human being. "This is the damnedest house I ever saw!" he cried. He stalked into the room with eyes wide and staring from sheer amaze« ment. He sat down in a great chair, and rocked himself back and forth, his eyes on the floor. And now and then he swore gently, dazedly, 1 have seen the same look, in my pro- fessional experience, in the faces of men just picked up alive after start. ling automobile accidents. "You look a trifle upset, tor," 1 said. "What's the now?" He turned slowly, still mumbled and dazed. "I say the damnedest! No case I was ever in had quite the devilish, upsetting, aggravagat- ing features that this one has. When 1 started to put away that clod that held the footprint, I opened the draw- er where I had put the stained shirt." "Yes." inspec matter "Somebody had unlocked the draw- er with a screw-driver." "And the shirt was gone:" "Gone nothing! Some one had just torn a solid square foot out of the front part of the shirt tail. And it dazed me so that I dropped the clod." The moon that night cast eery squares of light on the floors. The orchestra of the marshes started up again--the call of birds, the noise of insects, the rustling of branches, all deeply remote and hushed. In the daytime the occupants of the manor house had all been ordinary, sensible Aryans, not afraid to look in a dark corner. In the night, you 1}of Ahmad Das, and could see a different expression om EE as ept re i the strange legend of the tiger. 'Then I thought i | the theory of reincarnation; and finally came around to the memory of those two curious. scratches on the face of the dead man. Again and again 1 had the same cycle of thought. 1 had the drawing-room to my- self, except for the younger South. ley, The detective was at work in his room. Southley himself had gone into the den; whether he had come out 1 did not know. The negroes had retired to their cabins, as usual in the latter part 'of the evenings. Vilas was in the library, trying to read. 't think he was having any ww aed ' uecess, The hat two days ha stupendous ¢! es in Vilas. He had picked up iy or three little nervous habits, too, that were particularly distressing to watch. The mysterious death of his father was of course the greatest influence; and the ever-present menace, the shadow and the darkness, had stretched his nerves almost to the breaking point. 1 had noticed a curious thing, as evening drew on. It seemed to me that the other occupants of the house were avoiding Vilas, Perhaps it was Just a coincidence; yet the thing had appened three or four times. From eight to ten he had spent most of his time roving from one room to another, Whoever was in the rooms when he came greeted him courteous- ly caangl , but soon had business else- where. 1 saw it work out with not only Southley, but his daughter as well. Of course there were reasons; but I couldn't even get a glimpse at them. I imagined that Vilas would not have cared to be alone in the library at that moment, if there had been any other choice. From time to time he summoned the servants, scemingly for the most trivial ser- vices, About eleven I walked wut onto the grounds, mostly because the at- mosphere of the house had begun to strangle me. I wanted fresh air, the wind blowing off the water, the sight of a friendly moon in the sky. Of coursé the tragedy of the night before had occurred outside the house, on the very hill on which I stood, but there remained the feel- ing that crime had its root and source and causes in the house it- self. But the moonlit hillside wasn't much of a relief. What wind there was brought curious smells from the marsh. The moon looked wan and pale and strange, There was a light in the power house--a little building at the rear of the manor-house that contained the engine that had previously gen- erated electric light for the house, Hoping for a friendly word {from some mellow, African voice, 1 walked around to it. The workmen were busy at the plant, trying to repair the break. But the workmen weren't colored people, after all. They were bending over engine when 1 first ap- proached the door, am couldn't see their faces. They didn't hear me coming in the soft grass, and they seemed very intent. Then they start- ed up as my foot grated on the threshold. One of them was the elder South ley. The other was the lean, be- whiskered old man who had brought he boat. Robin, he called himself, noticed just one impressing thing about hinl. He wore = boots, He was the only man oun the plan- tation, as far as I knew, that did. They were little, ankle-length, quaint affairs; and I was at my own stupidity that 1 had not remem-+ bered the fact before. 1 had noticed the boots the minute he had ste from the motor boat. They had plain rubber heels, such as had made the track we had found on the hillside, beside the white stone. Beyond all doubt or question, he had been the man we had chased just after night fall. My eyes leaped over him. He had long legs--the kind that could stride swiftly. He was agile, too. "Howdy, sir," he greeted me, "Would you like a job?" Southley looked up with a smile.. "We're trying to get these lights so they'll work," he explained. "I'm getting tired of candle-light. I don't suppose you know anything about electric generators." 8 new Suite a bit about them when ad the engineering bug-- in college," I confessed. "I might be able to help vou." Then 1 had a curious impression, It seemed to me that a swift exs pression of apprehension and diss may flashed across my host's face. It wasn't in the least distinct. And it was so senseless a thing I cone cluded 1 had been mistaken. Robin looked up, too, somewhat quizszically, "I can fix the thing," he said hur- riedly, "and, besides, I need the job." "I guess he can do well enough," Southley agreed. But I couldn't resist the impulse to make a cursory examination of the generator. Perhaps it was love of the engine, Perhaps it was that irresistible human impulse to tinker --and more than that, to exhibit knowledge. At first I found it diffs cult to believe that the plant was really severely damaged, It looked in the most perfect condition. But Southley called me away in a mos ment, and invited me to walk back with him to the manor-house. Inspector Freeman would have been dismayed if he had known my thoughts as Southley and I went back to the drawing-room. For be- fore another hour had passed, there was, to be further amateur inter- ference in the working out of the Southley mystery. Even while I chatted with my host, I was plan. ning the best means to get back te the power-house. I was going to keep a close watch on that garrulous, long-legged longshoreman, Robin, (To be continued) Truly NS) [Qf say the Snick- snack boys, "is truly a find!" just the right "chdeolate flavor. | And you'll agree with them, when you taste the new "King's Choice" Chocolate Bar by Moirs, Fresh--delicious--sweet, but not too sweet--with Kings Choice Chocolate Bar Made of fresh pineapp and fresh cocoanut, dipped in butterscotch and coated with milk chocolate. A bar devel- oped only after years of experience in the of choice confections! "lois