4
THE SUNDAY FICTION MAGAZINE, SEPTEMBER 10, 1916
fpyOsr L& She sat
iJmmm ! i c1osed
7 vi lii.
before, byt tn minute I saw him I knew
he'd offer to take her home, and ask a
lot of fjol Questions, too. So I waited
for him.
"Bad business, Ollie," he said, looking
at the wreck. "I haven't been to td."
"Pretty bad." I agreed.
"I've been looking up the chauffeur
people, or trying to. He doesn't seern
to have left a family anyhow. The other
case is worse."
"The other case?"
"The woman. She was an office clean
er somewhere. Leaves four kids."
I'd never even thought of the woman.
I felt rather ashamed, especially whn
I found he'd been to the tenement where
he had lived.
"I expect the governor would come
over with a check," I said. ""Where does
she live?"
He wrote the address on a bit of paper
from his pocket and gave It to me. I
took it in my left hand. To tell the
truth my right was pretty well busted
up and I'd been keeping it In my pocket.
LJut if he noticed it he said nothing.
"I'd like to speak to Miss Hazeltine,
Ollie," he said, in that quiet way of his.
That was a queer thing about Martin.
You never knew what he saw or didn .
see. But when it came to a show-down, t
he seldom missed anything.
I let him. go over to the taxi alone. I
- expected to be canned, as I've said. But,
after a couple of minutes, he beckoned
to me.
"I'll get a substitute for Miss Hazel
tine today. Ollie." he said. "Take her
home, like a good boy, and don't let her
talk. She's tired and if there Is any
thing wrong, it's her affair, you know."
"I don't need to be told my own buni
ness," I said. I was pretty hot. but.
after ali, I hadn't been minding my own
business and I knew it.
Well, the ride didn't amount to much.
She sat with her eyes closed and I
babbled as cheerfully as I could. But I
got sick of the sound o my own voice
and the last part of the trip I examined
my right hand, stealthily.
"How did you do that?" ,
I Jumped, but I made up some sort cf
story of having caught it In the taxicmb
. Annr and because a girl thinks every-
H'
thing that's hurt ought to be tied up at
once 1 put a handkerchief around iff
Her eyes were closed again and I took
a good look at her profile. It's funny,
when you think about it, bow you can
see a girl every day for a year and she's
a part of an office machine or something
like that. Then all at once something
happens and you're a man and she's a
woman, and to thunder with the office.
I was getting the feeling pretty strong.
She didn't think much of me. She'l
seen too much of father's "Go out and
play, Ollie," But then and there I made
up my mind, or what I choose to call my
mind, as the governor has been known
to put it, to make that young lady sit up
and take notice. I'd clean forgotten the
sweetheart, or whatever it was that
might be in a tree.
'
OWEVER, she didn't take much no
tice that morning. But as we got
near her house she opened her eyes.
"If you will come in," she said. "I'll
bathe your hand and tie it up properly."
I-didn't exactly have to be coaxed. I'd
reached that stage already.
"Will you do something for me. Mr.
Oliver?"
"Anything up to murder," I said. And
saw her turn white. It got me. But she
pulled herself together.
"If the morning paper is still on tie
step, will you put it in the taxicab and
take it away with you?"
I hadn't really started on my mad ca
reer as a detective then. I was In the
formative and theoretical part. Th-;n
and there I took it into my fool head
that she had an lnsae relative, a
brother or somebody, and that he'd gjt
loose with a razor. It didn't quite fit
the tree idea, and the spring didn't be
long, apparently.
But I was wrong. If you've been
guessing insanity, you'd better start
over. Insanity nothing! On the contrary.
She lived in a little white house, sort
of a bungalow, plaster, you know, with
a garden and window boxes. Pretty?
It made our place look like a mausoleum.
Green shutters, too. I took another look
at her. Why, it was the only sort of a
house she could hav come from. And"
I'd been thinking of her in a dusty Dff
fice, with the roar of the mill all around.
This last is hyperbole. There hadn't
been any roar to speak of for about a
ear.
The paper was still on the porch steps.
It seemed to make her feel better to see
it there. I put it in the taxi and fol
lowed her into the house.
I'd like to live in that little house. Ii
was full of old mahogany, shining tj
beat the band, and faded oil portraits
In tarnished frames. And father was as
old as the rest. Nothing but Miss Hazol
tine seemed young. But it was bright.
Even fr.ther was bright. Imagine being
70 years old and still cheerful about it!
He was coming down the staircase when
we entered and the girl spoke before he
had a chance.
"It's all right, father," she said. "There
is nothing to worry about."
"Where is it?" he' demanded, not
grouchy, you know, but eager, like a
child. But he wasn't childish. Not so
you could notice it.
"I'll tell you about it later. This is
Mr. Gray."
I don't know that I've given my last
name before. Yes, I'm, one of the Grays.
1 m Oliver Gray IV., to tell the ter
rible truth.
I'm afraid I wasn't very cordial to the
old chap. He looked too smug and con
tented. Why the deuce did he let a
pretty girl go wandering about the town
at night, while he stayed peacefully fit
home? Why, the man with the razor -it
made me shiver.
Miss Hazeltine made me sit down, and
she brought a little basin of warm water
and bandage and fixed up my hand. 3he
put a whole bandage on it and then
split the end and tied it in a bow around
my wrist. I looked like a hospital case
but I liked it.
Doing something for somebody had
helped her, too. Girls are like that. Som
girls. Even Sis came up to the scratc'.i
the last time I had tonsilitis, and wanted
to read to me.
Miss Hazeltine's color came back, and
she made me promise not to use the
hand that day. As under ordinary cir
cumstances the only labor I do with that
hand is signing bar checks at the cluo
and dealing at bridge, I was willing o
promise. Then father asked me to break
fast, and when I refused he went with
me to the door.
"I don't understand about the news
paper," he said, with the first hint of dis
content I'd heard In his voice. "There
was none yesterday or today. I mnit
report the carrier."
I left him there, looking shaved aad
smug and rosy. My grandfather, Oil.'
the second, is still alive. He's the sou
of old duffer who shies his boots at his
man's head, but he's not smug, thank
heaven. I visit him now and then, for
excitement. I've seen him throw a book
through a window to get a breeze!
It was 9 o'clock by that time, ana I
decided to go home. I'd left the mater
and Sis longer than I should have, as It
was. Father's no good in an emergency;
he loses his bead and raves. Besides, if
he'd gone back to Boisseau's, as he jolly
well might, there was a chance that he'd
heard I'd . been there with Miss Hazel
tine and I 'knew I'd have to square my
self. So I went home. The house was quiet,
but mother's maid met me in the hall
and said the mater wanted to see me.
They were all there in the room, the
- mater in bed, propped up with pillows,
the governor by a window, staring out.
and Sis reading the paper aloud. She
put down the paper and they all turned
and glared at me as I stood by the door.
"Well, young man," father said. "If
you will explain what took you out of
the house at 6 o'clock this morning "
" Of all mornings." the mater put
in. "Oliver, is there ever to be a time
when we can depend on you?"
Can you beat it? You'd have thought
to hear them that I'd put out the lights
and stolen the jewels and been the whole
blooming show myself. I got a oit
peeved, but in five minutes or so, wh?n
they'd all blown off steam, the mater
Jd me what had happened.
I didn't say I'd heard i. from Bois-
seau. I knew she wanted to tell it. Be
sides. I wanted the real story. In the
time they were telling me that I could n't
be depended on and the rest of it, I'd
made up my mind to find the mater f
pearls and the rest, or sprain a fairly
serviceable mind. I was pretty sick f
being known as the family fool and
idler.' But if I was to do anything I ha
to have something to work on.
OLD Boisseau had been correct, imt
he'd let out one or two things. It
seems that when the mater was lined up
against the wall, she was not far from a
desk telephone, and as the crowd grew
she edged toward it.
"I was trembling so I could scaseU
stand, Oliver," she said. "Hut at last 1
got the receiver and took it off. I knew
if f called for help he'd shoot me. i
tried to speak, but at first I couldn't
make a sound. But at last 1 mana-fl
to speak to him. very loud, so the giM
downstairs could hear. 1 said: "Thi !-
an outrage. You will never get out '.
the building with these jewel.' I almost
fainted, but I knew the telephone fzti
could hear it."
"The telephone in the restaurant w:.
out of order?"
"Not at all." father broke in furious':
"The fool of a telephone girl was .y.
there. One of the gang had assaullr I
the policeman at the door and she'd 1
her board for fear she would miss some
thing." "I wish you wouldn't both inteimi:
me," mother said peevishly. "The m.iu
heard me and wheeled on me like ;
chot. 'Hang up that telephone receiver"
he said, in the most savage manner. N
tricks, ladies.' He was waiting until
Pamela Brook undid the safety clasp 'f
her diamond collar. "Hurry up, ma
dam,' he said. 'And in case any of yoi
have any hope of assistance, I'll tell you
two things. First, one of my men
. standing near the switchboard dowM
stairs and has the operator coverc-1
Second, even if the operator could jse
the switchboard, the telephone trunk
lines are out of order. Boisseau's is c-u:
off from the world, ladies.'
"But. he was nervous, nevertheless,"
the mate said, with something very Ii k
triumph. "He hurried Pamela. Indee.i.
he was quite brutal to her. Her hnnl
were shaking, of course."
Pretty nervy of the mater, I call it. i
was just about to tell her so, when Si
demanded where I'd been all night.
"I came in shortly after midnight anO
went to bed," I said virtuously.
"And got up at 5 o'clock, I suppose!"
"I did. Exactly that."
"I dont believe it. You'll be telling
us next that you've been to the mill."
Well.' I didn't care to go into thins
just then, so I ignored her.
"By the way, father," I said. "Mips
Hazeltine is not well. She fainted this
morning, and I took her home in a taxi
cab." "Who is Miss Hazeltine?" mother de
manded. ,
"One of the office stenographers."
"Did you have to take her home?"
"Good heavens, mother," I said,
girl was sick."
(To be continued uext week)
Copy right, 1QJ6, by J. Keclry
"tre
OUR FRIENDS
BY II. 11. WEAVER.
(Wltn apologies to Samuel Walter Eos:-
LET me lrve in e. house by the side f t
some treew.
Near the homes of nome birds built
high.
Most birds are good; c,me may be biwl,
Like folks like you end 1.
Then why should I shoot and trap and
good friends to man as God ever
gave? "
Let' rne live in a house by the aide of
some tree ,
And be a friend to the birds we should