HEPPNER GAZETTE TIMES, HEPPNER, OREGON, THURSDAY, JUNE 21, 1928.
PAGE THREE
( h Edison Aiatsliall-&
dims by MXfiim
WHAT HAPPENED BEFORE
Dr. Long Is visiting Southley Downs,
to which he Is conducted by Ahmad
Das. an Oriental. There he meets Mr.
Southley, whom a detective friend, Al
exander fierce, had told him to watch,
and his son Ernest Southley, Mr. Hay-
ward and his son Vilas, and then Jose-
Dhine Southley, whom he had seen faint
on the train. Josephine tells him the
story of Southley Downs and its ghost,
which is not the ghost of a huiriun being
but 01 a tiger.
Dr. Long has a quarrrel with Vilas
Hayward over Josephine, and finds that
the Haywards have a strange authority
over the Southleys. He is ordered to
leave Southley Downs. The rain pre
vents him leaving at once. Dr. Long
and Ernest go out on the road in the
rain looking for the tracks of a tiger
that Ernest says are there.
They find the tracks. Later Ernest
and Dr. Long see a prowling creature
in the hull of Southley Downs. This
frightens the elder Hayward, who also
sees It. Ernest begins to feel that Ah
mad Das Is perpetrating some deviltry.
The elder Hayward is later found
dead, his neck broken as if by a giant's
blow. Now read on
"It is even an intruder's business
to be watchful, at a time like this.
I believe you'd better try to get
some sleep."
"Still the doctor but there are
no personal wishes Involved this
time." She even had the spirit to
smile at me.
But I couldn't answer that smile.
The scene In the den had struck
home too hard.
"Professional Interest alone," I
told her.
Maybe It was just the effect of
the dawn that her eyes seemed to
lose their luster before my gaze.
She hurried on up the hall, turning
at the door of her own room.
"Thank you for your watchfut
ness," she called to me. "And I'm
sorry I spoke so rudely when you
first spoke to me and I don't ex
pect any other but professional
Interest now. If there was any
thing that I could say about last
night I'd say it, too. But I know
It wouldn't help any."
"I can't Imagine that it would."
"But at least you are not going
home today."
"The storm decided that matter
for me, I'm afraid. But there may
be a chance yet"
The door shut behind her. The
early morning hours drew on, and
the mist that was the twilight of
dawn faded like the rain.
One of the negroes had built a
little fire in the library, and South
ley joined me here. And In a mo
ment Ahmad Das opened the door
from the dining room.
He stood straight and calm and
unruflied, not an expression that the
eyes of man could read on his im
passive face as he called us In to
breakfast
After breakfast Ernest and I
went down to the scene of the mur
der. It would be several hours
before the coroner came; and I
thought that any obvious clews
should be collected and preserved at
once. Such things have mysterious
ways of disappearing.
We had no difficulty in locating
the exact spot where the body had
been. Even the rain bad not washed
away all the evidence. My first
work was to look about for foot
prints. There were none to be seen.
The place was covered with a rich
growth of grass, and root-filled turf
as a rule does not receive a very
clear imprint Besides, the rains
would have washed away any im
print that had been made.
We were no more successful In
finding a weapon with which the
crime could have been committed.
We searched the hillside with the
greatest possible care; and even
waded a short distance into the
swamp. Of course it seemed likely
that any blunt instrument that
could have inflicted the wound
could have been easily tossed into
the swamp water, from which it
could not be recovered until the
waters receded again.
Although It was Innundated to a
depth of six feet now, it was per
fectly clear that the isthmus was
still above the surface of the water
at the moment of the murder. It
was not covered until the final
wreckage of the levee, several min
utes afterward. It would have been
possible for the murderer to have
raced across the isthmus to the op
posite high lands before the wall of
water came. In that case he was
still to be found In the thick jungle
beyond.
Since the light had made it pos
sible, we had put a negro in an up
stairs window with a powerful pair
of field glasses. If the murderer
was indeed in refuge in the thick
jungles, tha glasses would reveal
any attempt he should make to es
cape. His only hope would be to
keep the plateau Itself between him
and the house, a feat that would
become Increasingly difficult as he
noared the mainland. And it was
true the water was too deep to
wade. Ho would either have to con
struct a raft, or else risk his life
in a long, desperate swim.
The watch was kept like the
guard of an army camp. It was
continuous. When the negro was
obliged to leave his position another
took his place.
We picked up a few surface clues.
Wo found a man's hat; but it was
perfectly evident that it was the hat
Hayward had worn. I had not par
ticularly noticed it as he went out
the door; yet Ernest recognizod It
as the same expensive felt that he
had seen the elder Hayward wear
lng on many previous occasions. It
contained no initials or any other
sign of ownership, and It had
trademark of a hatter in the State
capltol.
But the place It lay was somewhat
significant It was ten full paces
farther up the slope than the place
where we had found the body.
"Could we have dropped it off
when we carried the body to the
house?" Ernest asked.
"When I lifted the head the hat
was already off," I replied.
"Then you see what it means?"
He looked at me darkly.
"It means that either part of the
struggle occurred higher up the
slope, or else some violent action
at that point knocked the hat from
his head. It seems to me there
would be signs deeper imprints
if the first was the case; and more
likely that he saw or heard his
enemy for the first time when he
was on this point of the path."
"He must have been on his way
down to the driveway then."
"Of course."
"He certainly could not have seen
well in the darkness. He might
have heard, though, or felt"
"Perhaps he could make out a
shadow. Likely he started to run,
and his hat fell off at the first leap."
"The levee was already breaking
then. He must have heard Its faint
signs. It seemed likely he must
have known that retreat by way
of the roadway to the city was al
ready cut off. Then why" and
the eyes bored mine "did he run in
the opposite direction from the
house, rather than toward it? We
found the body ten yards farther
down the slope."
"Men In such terror as he must
have been are not particularly care
ful which way they run. They only
want to get away in any direction."
"But the most frightened man
won't run In the face of danger.
It is perfectly evident then that his
foe came behind him between his
ovn position and the house."
That seems to be Indisputable.
The murderer must have chased
him."
Of course."
And he must have been unbeliev
ably fleet It was true that Hay
ward was a large man physically,
and would not ordinarily have been
able to run very fast. But in such
terror as he was, he would have
run faster than any expert track
man. You know, Long, that no man
ever really runs until he is in terror.
Some reserve power and strength
comes to his aid. You remember
that from your own boyhood the
way you could get away from a
watermelon patch when the owner
got out his shotgun. He ran some
what downhill, so every condition
was with him for a fast flight And
yet his enemy caught up with him
within ten yards!"
'It Is an important fact, Ernest.
'It certainly is. Police records
show that in very few cases have
crimes been committed by a crim
inal actually overtaking a fleeing
victim when they were both on foot.
The victims fear makes him the
fleetest; and the criminal has only
the strength of his purpose to make
him fleet Yet Hayward was over
taken in ten yards."
Yes."
He probably ran screaming a
sound that could not be heard above
the roar of the storm."
I agreed to this, too.
"It's no ordinary crime, Long.
The murderer had no ordinary mo
tives. His passion, his blood mad
ness. If I may use the word, must
have been Just as terrific an emo-
toin as Hayward's fear an emotion
that inspired him to run fast en
ough down that slope to overtake
his prey within ten yards.
'I don't believe I like the word
prey in this capacity, Ernest," I told
him. "There's an Inference In It
that isn't soothing to the spirit. But
there isn't any doubt about the
fury and intensity of the slayer.
There's another element that proves
It even more clearly than the fact
that he overtook Hayward within
ten yards.
What is that?"
'The terrible, rending violence of
the blow. A cold-blooded murderer
wouldn't have struck like this. The
slayer would have waited in the
darkness struck from ambush with
a billy or knife or pistol. Now look
at this."
I showed Ernest the Imprint in
the turf where the body had lain.
It was singularly deep and distinct
"Does it mean anything to you?
I asked.
'Do you mean that the blow was
so violent that Hayward was simply
knocked Into the earth when ha
fell?"
"Nothing else. It is likely that
he never moved or cried out after
that blow struck him down. He
was hurled to the ground with such
force that he left this Imprint as If
a meteor had struck him. The neck
was broken ji clean, violent break.
I knew it when I examined the
body."
We found one other clew that for
a little while made us hopeful. It
was one half of a cuff-link, broken
sharply off. It was a rich thing, of
gold and a single ruby. Then we
walked back toward the house.
"I suppose you'll knew where sus
picion will point" Ernest said, just
before we reached the steps.
We stopped face to face.
"Good Heavens, man! Don't you
think I have eyes? No one can help
but see the way things point and
there's nothing In this world to do
but cover our eyes and yell coin
cidence! But the detectives that
come In the boat today they'll be
fresh and have clear eyes. And
they'll suspect Ahmad Das. He was
the one man that was out on the
hillside with Hayward at the mo
ment of the murder."
"Of course. Although It is true
he started In another direction."
"You remember that ho took a
long time to get down to the gar
age. He might have waited for
Hayward on the trail then circled
back to the garage and only pre
tended to look for him. I don't say
it's true, but that's what the cor
oner and the detectives will sug
gest" "But why didn't he strike him as
he went past, Instead of chasing the
screaming man down the hill?"
"Who knows! There might be
such a thing as missing his first
blow, and knowing that only by si
lencing the man's lips could he be
saved from an attempted murder
charge. At least, Ahmad Das will
be suspected. And the crowning
point is that he hated Hayward.
"And Hayward hated him," I
agreed.
"Next after Ahmad, the negroes
will be suspected, charged with be
ing in the pay of either my father
or me, or possibly you."
"Yes, all of them will be investi
gated." "Vilas won't be accused very
naturally and of course my sister
won't It would take more than a
woman's strength, or even the
strength of any other than a large,
powerful man to administer such a
blow as killed Hayward."
We had now nalted below the
veranda.
"There's one other thing to re
member," I told him.
"What is that?"
"Another thing to wonder at As
you say, only a powerful man, or
something very powerful, could
have dealt this blow. A man could
not have don it except with some
great, heavy weapon that by its
own weight would gather tremen
dous momentum. It was dark, and
the two of them were in mad flight
down 'the hill. Then think what
wonderful accuracy, what perfect
muscle control, was necessary for
the pursuer to swing his weapon
and strike the fleeing figure In front
of him in the darkness a blow as
accurate as that with which a but
cher fells a steer. It doesn't seem
hardly human."
He started up the steps, and
turned with a little laugh that was
somehow very grim. "You might
as well quit looking for things to be
human around this house," he told
me. "Abandon such hope ye who
enter here."
Just then we heard the voice of
the watchman bellowing down the
staris. His glass had revealed the
shadow of a boat upon the far
reaches of the marsh.
At first the boat was just a black
speck so far distant that we could
not tell whether it was some one
escaping from the plateau or a boat
from the mainland.
"If it is the murderer, and he's
getting away, there's no chance to
stop him," Southley said. "We can't
get word to the other side in time."
The speck was hard to follow.
There were so many tree clumps
and thickets that hid it. But slowly
it became apparent that the boat
was drawing nearer, and that it had
a smaller craft, evidently a large
rowboat, in tow. And within a half
hour more we could distinguish its
occupants.
The large craft a long, low
motor boat contained five men. Of
course, one of them was a negro I
had sent, one was evidently the
skipper or owner of the craft, and
two of the others were the coroner
and his assistant My hope lay in
the fifth. If my telegram had gone
true to its destination, tonight there
would be new forces to cope with
this problem of Southley Downs.
Most of the male occupants of the
house were down at the edge of the
water to greet the crafts. Their
progress was slow. They constantly
faced the danger of snagsand sub
merged shrubbery that might wreck
the motor boat Ernest called to
them, and showed how they might
make a landing in the deep water
beside the isthmus.
At first we couldn't see their
faces. The glitter of the water pre
vented it. But when at last they
drew close it was with the sense of
the deepest disappointment to me.
I looked in vain for the face I had
hoped to see.
No one could mistake the coroner.
He looked the part somber clothes
and all ; he had the voice, too those
unmistakable tones of a confirmed
mourner who knows all flesh is
dust His assistant was a rather
sprightly young man, with the
gloom of his profession yet to come
upon him. The man who steered
the boat was a character not un
familiar to those who know the
waterways. He seemed to be a
quaint, good-natured old chap with
sparkling eyes and a bushy beard
a man evidently sixty years of age
and still sprightly as a chickadee.
The mission had evidently not af
fected him at all. He called us a
cheery greeting as the boats drew
up. When he rose to make the
motor boat fast all of us saw that
his garb fitted the rest of him. He
wore an old, mud-bespattered suit,
and queer little rubber boots that
were tied with strings and came
just to his ankles, making a ludi
crous bag of each of his trouser
legs.
Sam, the colored man, was in the
back of the boat, and next to him
sat a lean, thin-faced man I had
never seen before. But he had an
official air, and I guessed him right
as an inspector from a near-by city
a man on the plain-clothes force.
He was an alert, determined man
with a distinct air of authority.
My first words were with Sam.
He swore that he had sent my tele
gram to the address I had Indicated.
"I waited an hour for an answer,
sir, and none came," Sam told me.
"I could not wait no more. The
detective gen'man said we had to
go without him and like as not he
wouldn't be no good, nohow."
(Continued next week.)
TnTfs
by Nancy hart
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Wrap each box in a different
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Drain juice fruit from pint can
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Colored Melon Pickles
When making melon pickles, div
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boil one sliced lemon for flavoring.
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Prune toast is a delicious break
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Place a piece of ice over chewing
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An occasional change of pictures
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