VERNONIA EAGLE, VERNONiA, OREGON
SHIFTING SANDS
SYNOPSIS
The future of the youthful and
comely "Widder" Marcia Howe Is a
conversational tlt-blt among house
wives of Wilton. Eligible bachelors
and widowers also are interested.
Marcia's married life has been un
happy, but she is lonely at times,
and has Invited her late husband's
niece, Sylvia Hayden, whom she has
never seen, to visit her. Marcia
takes to the girl at once, while Syl
via finds her aunt more like a sister.
A stranger, on the verge of exhaus
tion, finds his way to Marcia's home,
hie power-boat having run aground
In the fog. He has Marcia hide a
package containing jewelry. Elisha
Winslow, town sheriff, brings news
of a jewel robbery on a neighboring
estate. The stranger gives his name
as Stanley Heath. Ma'.cia, though
uneasy, Is unwilling to believe Heath
a thief. Sylvia, by chance, discovers
the jewels, and Is convinced that
Heath is author of the robbery. She
realizes that Marcia herself must
have hidden the jewels.
CHAPTER V—Continued
—5
“Good! Then you can stay a lit
tle while,” he coaxed. “Now answer
this question truthfully, please. You
heard what Doctor Stetson said
about my returning to New York to
day. I don't want to be pig-headed
and take a risk if It Is Imprudent;
that Is neither fair to others nor
to myself. Still, it is Important that
I go and I am anxious to. What is
your advice?"
“I think you are too 111. Can’t
anything be done from here?”
“Such as—”
"Letters, telegrams—whatever you
wish. I can telephone or telegraph
anywhere. Or I can write.”
Surprise stole over his face, then
deepened to admiration.
“You would do that for me—
blindfolded?”
“Why not? 1 simply want to
help. I always like to help when
I can.”
“Even when you do not under
stand?”
Piercingly bls eyes rested on her
face.
“I—I—do not need to under
stand,” was her proud retort.
For the fraction of a second their
glances met. When he spoke bls
voice was low—imperative.
“Marcia—come here!”
She went—she knew not why.
“Give me your hand.”
Again, half-trembling, half reluc
tant, she obeyed.
He took it in bls and bending,
kissed it
"I will stay and you shall tele
graph,” was all he said.
She sprang to fetch paper and
pencil, as if welcoming this break
in the tension.
“I’m afraid I cannot write plainly
enough with my left hand,” he said.
"Will you take down the message?”
“Certainly.”
“Mrs. S. C. Heath.”
Her pencil, so firm only an in
stant before, quivered.
"Have you that?”
“Yes.”
•’The Biltmore, New York City.”
“Yes.”
“Everything sate with me. Do
not worry. Marooned on Cape Cod
with cold. Nothing serious. Home
soon. Love. Stanley."
“Got that?”
“Yes.”
Had something gone out of her
voice? The monosyllable was flat,
colorless. Heath looked at her.
Even her expression was different—
or did he merely imagine it?
“Perhaps I would better just
glance over the message before you
send it—simply to make sure it's
right.”
"Let me copy it first,” she ob
jected.
"Copy It? Nonsense! What for?
Nobody’s going to see it”
He reached for the paper.
Still she withheld it
“What’s the trouble?”
•It isn't written well enough. I'd
rather copy it”
“Why?”
“It’s wobbly. I—I—perhaps my
hands were cold.”
“You’re not chilly?”
"No—oh, no."
"If the room is cool you mustn't
stay here.”
“It isn’t I'm not cold at all.”
"Will you let me take the tele
gram?”
She placed It In his hand.
“It Is shaky. However, that's of
no consequence, since you are to
'phone Western Union. Now, if you
truly are not cold. I’d like to dic
tate a second wire.”
“All right.”
“This one is for Currier,” he said.
“Mr. James Currier, The Biltmore,
New York City. Safe on Cape with
My Lady. Shall return with her
later. Motor here at once, bringing
whatever I need for indefinite stay.
“Stanley C. Heath.”
“Got that?”
“O. K„” nodded Marcia.
This time, without hesitation, she
passed him the paper.
“This, I see, is your normal hand
writing,” he commented as he placed
the messages side by side.
“Hadn’t I better go and get oft
the messages?” suggested Marcia,
rising nervously. “The station might
be closed. Often It Is, at noontime.”
"It doesn’t matter if they don't
go until afternoon.”
“But there might be some slip.”
He glanced at her with his keen
eyes.
“What’s the matter?”
“Matter?”
“Yes, with you? All of a sudden
you’ve turned easterly.”
“Have I?” Lightly, she laughed.
“I probably have caught the habit
from the sea. Environment does
Influence character, psychologists
say.”
"Nevertheless, you are not fickle."
“How do you know? You know
an amazing amount about > me.
seems to me, considering the length
of our acquaintance,” she observed
with a tantalizing smile.
“I do,” was the grim retort. “I
know more than you think—more,
perhaps, than you know yourself.
Shall I hold the betraying mirror
up before you?”
“The mirror of truth? God for
bid! Who of us would dare face
It?” she protested, still smiling, but
with genuine alarm. “Now do let
me run along and send off the mes
sages. I must not loiter here talk
ing. You are forgetting that you're
111. The next you know your tem
perature will go up and Doctor
Stetson will blame me.”
"My temperature has gone up,"
growled Stanley Heath, turning his
back on her and burying Ills face
in the pillow with the touchiness
of a small boy.
Sylvia, meanwhile, had heard
Stanley Heath call Marcia and
hailed her aunt's departure from
the kitchen as an opportunity for
which she had been anxiously wait
ing.
No sooner was the elder woman
upstairs and out of earshot than
she tiptoed from her room, the
monogrammed handkerchief in her
pocket
She had pried out the brick and
had the jewel-case in her hand,
wrapped and ready for its return
when conversation overhead sud
denly ceased and she heard Marcia
pass through the ball and start
down stairs.
Sylvia gasped. There was no
chance to put the package back
and replace the brick, which fit
ted so tightly that its adjustment
was a process requiring patience,
care and time.
Flustered, frightened, she jammed
the jewel case Into her dress and
frantically restoring the brick to
the yawning hole In the hearth as
best she could, she fled up the back
stairs at the same moment Marcia
By...
Sara Ware Bassett
© by the Penn Pub. Co.
WNU Service.
descended the front ones.
Once In her room, she closed and
locked the door and sank panting
Into a chair to recover her breath.
Well, at least she had not been
caught, and In the meantime the
jewels were quite safe.
She took the case stealthily from
her pocket Now that the gems
were In her possession. It certainly
could do no harm for her to look
at them—even try them on, as she
had been tempted to do when she
first discovered them.
Probably
never again In all her life would
she hold in her hand so much
wealth and beauty.
Accordingly she unwound the
handkerchief and opened the box.
There lay the glistening heap of
treasure, resplendent in the sun
shine, a far more gorgeous spec
tacle than she had realized.
She clasped the diamonds about
her neck; fastened the emerald
brooch In place; put on the sap
phire pendant; then added the
rings and looked at herself in the
gold-framed mirror.
What she saw reflected dazzled
her. Who would have believed jew
els would make such a difference
in one’s appearance? They set off
her blond beauty so that she was
suddenly transformed into a prin
cess.
She really ought to have jewels.
She was born to them and could
carry them oft. There were myriad
women in the world on whom such
adornment would be wasted—good
and worthy women, too.
Then a voice Interrupted her
reverie.
It was Stanley Heath calling.
She heard Marcia reply and come
hurrying upstairs.
Guiltily Sylvia took off her spar
kling regalia; tumbled It uncere
moniously Into Its case; and slipped
it into the drawer underneath a pile
of night-dresses. Then she softly
unlocked the door and sauntered
out
It was none too soon, for Marcia
was speaking to her.
“Sylvia?”
“Yes.”
“How would you feel about going
out to the village for the mall and
to do some errands? The tide is
out and you could walk. Prince
needs a run.”
“I’d love to."
"That’s fine. Here’s a list of
things that we need at the store.
You’re sure you don’t mind going?”
“No, Indeed. I shall enjoy being
out."
“She’s dreadfully anxious to get
us out of the way, Isn’t she.
Prince?" commented young Sylvia
as she and the setter started out
over the sand. “Now what do you
suppose she has on her mind? She's
up to something. Marcia Isn’t •
bit of an actress. She's too gen
uine.”
Marcia, standing at the window
watching the girl, would have been
astonished enough had she beard
this astute observation.
She did want Sylvia out of the
way. .The girl had read her cor
rectly.
She must telephone the messages
to the stationmaster at Sawyer
Falls, the adjoining town where the
railroad ended and the nearest tel
egraph station was.
She got the line and had no sooner
dictated the telegrams than she
heard Heath's voice.
During the interval that had
elapsed since she had left him, both
of them had experienced a reaction
and each was eager to make
amends.
Marcia regretted her flippancy.
It had been childish of her to give
way to pique and punish Heath
simply because It was proved he
had a wife. Why should he not be
married?
Heath had been quite frank about
the message and its destination. On
thinking matters over, it occurred
to Murcia be might have considered
this the easiest way to Inform her
of things he found It embarrassing
to put into words.
And she?
Instead of appreciating his hon
esty, chivalry, gentlemanly conduct
as she should have done, and re
ceiving It graciously, surprise had
betrayed her into displaying resent
ment
She was heartily ashamed of her
self. No matter how much it hum
bled her pride, she must put things
right. Fortunately It was not too
late to do so.
Therefore, a very different Marcia
Howe responded to Stanley Heath s
summons.
She was now all gentleness,
friendliness, and shyly penitent
“Here I am, Mr. Heath. What
can I do for you?” was her greet
ing.
This time she did not hesitate,
but went directly to the chair be
side his bed and sat down. He
smiled and, meeting his eyes, she
smiled back. This was better.
Heath sighed a sigh of relief.
“I’ve been thinking, since you
went down stair«, about Currier.
He ought to arrive late tonight or
early tomorrow morning. Although
he will not know in which house I
am quartered, he will have the wit
to Inquire, for he has more than
the ordinary quota of brains. 1
don’t know what I should do wlth-
"Hush, Marcia. The Jewell Will Be
Found."
out him. I shall have him leave the
car In the village and after he has
delivered over the clothing he Is to
bring, he can take the noon train
back to New York, carrying the
Jewels with him."
“I see," nodded Marcia.
She did not see. Nevertheless she
heartily Welcomed the Intelligence
that the Jewels with their damning
evidence, If evidence It was, were to
be removed from the house. The
sooner they were out of the way the
better. If they were not damning
evidence they at least were a great
responsibility.
Suppose something were to hap
pen to them? Suppose somebody
suspected they were In the house?
“So,” continued Stanley Heath,
“I think sometime today when you
have a good opportunity you’d bet
ter get the case and bring it up
here. I shall then have It here in
my room and I can hand It over to
Currier without any trouble.”
“I’ll go fetch It now. Sylvia has
gone to the village and this Is a
splendid chance," cried Marcia.
“Fine!”
“I’ll be right back."
He heard her speed down the
stairs and listened to her step In
the room below.
Then there was silence.
A few moments later she came
racing back, white and breathless.
“They're gone I” she cried. “The
place Is empty! The Jewels are
not there 1"
Her terror and the fear lest her
pallor foreshadowed collapse pro
duced In Heath that artificial calm
one sometimes sees when a strong
nature reins Itself In and calls upon
Its reserve control.
The man thought only of how to
quiet her. Beaching out, he touched
her hair.
“Hush, Marcia. The Jewels will be
found. Don't give way like this. I
cannot bear to see you. The whole
lot of them are not worth your
tears."
"But you left them In my care.
It was I who suggested where to
hide them,” she moaned.
“I know. And it was a splendid
idea, too. I could not let that
sheriff of yours peel off my clothes
and find the diamonds on me. He
Isn't a man of sufficient Imagina
tion—or perhaps he Is one of far
too much. I am not blaming you—
not In the least. We did the best
we could in the emergency. If
things have gone wrong, it Is no
fault of yours.”
"But you trusted me. I ought to
have watched. I should not have
left the kitchen day or night," de
clared Marcia, lifting her tear-
stained face to his.
“You have been there most of the
time, haven’t you?"
“I went to see them get the boat
off yesterday."
“Still some one was here. Sylvia
was In the house.”
“Yes, but she knew nothing about
the jewels and therefore may not
have realized the importance of
staying on deck. All I asked her
to do was to remain within call.
She may have gone upstairs, or
Into another room.”
"When she comes back, you can
ask her. Now we must pull our
selves together, dear,” went on
Stanley gently. “It Is important
that we do not give ourselves away."
She rose, but he still held her
hand, a common misery routing
every thought of conventionality.
The firmness and magnetism of
his touch brought strength. It was
a new experience, for during her
life with Jason, Marcia had been
the oak—the one who consoled, sus
tained. For a few delicious mo
ments, she let herself rest, weary
and unresisting, within the shelter
of Stanley Heath's grasp. Then she
drew away and, passing her hand
across her forehead as If awaking
from a dream, murmured:
“I'd better go down. Sylvia will
be coming.”
“Very well. Now keep a stiff up
per lip."
“I will—I’ll do my best.”
Even as she spoke the outer
door opened, then closed with a
bang.
“There’s Sylvia now. I must go.”
The girl came In, aglow from
her walk.
“I’m awfully sorry I banged the
door,” she apologized. “A gust of
wind took IL I do hope I didn’t
wake up Mr. Heath. Here’s the
marketing. And Marcia, what do
you suppose? I had a letter from
Hortie Fuller—that fellow back
home that I’ve told you about He’s
send me a five-pound box of candy
and he wants to come to Wilton
and spend his summer vacation."
The girl’s eyes were shining and
she breathed quickly.
“Of course I don't care a but
ton for Hortie. Still, it would be
rather good fun to see him. After
all, Hortie isn't so bad. Thinking
him over from a distance, he really
Is rather nice. Come and sample
the candy. It’s wonderful. He
must have blown himself, and sent
to Chicago for It, poor deart I’ll
let you see the letter, all except
the part which Is too frightfully
silly. You wouldn't care about that
I don’t myself.”
Sylvia shrugged her shoulders.
Alas, this was no moment to talk
with her, and artfully draw from
her the happenings of the previous
day.
Inwardly distraught but outward
ly calm, Marcia took the letter and
tried valiantly to focus her atten
tion upon It.
ITO RE CONTINUED)