Canadian Valley Record (Canton, Okla.), Vol. 10, No. 9, Ed. 1 Thursday, August 5, 1920 Page: 3 of 8
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THE CANTON RECORD. CANTON. OKLAHOMA
'GJio
■STRANGE
CAJ-E
smm
MLLPARRIStf
AUTHOR. OF"
"THE DBVIL'J OWN "
"MYUPY OF THE NORTH " ETC.
CX3PY7Z7<5>*fr
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"DO NOT BE ANGRY."
Synopsis. — Frederick Cavendish,
New York man of wealth, receives
a letter from an old friend. Jim
Westcott, urging him to come at
once to Colorado. Deciding to go.
he employs a lawyer. Patrick En-
right, to draw up a will leaving
most of his est&te to charity, with
a mere plttano* to John Cavendish,
his cousin and ?nly relative, a dis-
solute youth. That night Frederick
Cavendish Is rr'irdered In his apart-
ments. No w'U being found, John
Cavendish Inherits the estate. Two
months later Enright Informs John
Cavendish of the existence of the
will and offers, for $100,000, to say
nothing of It. John agrees. Stella
Donovan, newspaper writer, learns
from Frederick Cavendish's valet
that he Is not satisfied tin body
found was that of his employer
She is directed by Farrl«s. c.ty edi-
tor of the Star, to follow up the
case. Stella learns of the will En-
right had drawn up. also of John
Cavendish's Infatuation for Celeste
Le Rue, cboruB girl. A conversa-
tion Stella overhears between Ce-
leste and John Cavendish convinces
her Frederick Cavendish Ih alive,
the victim of a conspiracy engi-
neered by Enrlg-ht to secure his
fortune, and that Celeste knows
where he Is hidden. Ned Beaton,
nof-lous gunman, is aliw men-
tioned. Celeste Is about to leave
for Haskell. Colorado, and Stella Is
ordered by Farrlss to proceed there
at once. At Haskell Stella, repre-
senting herself as a newspaper
writer, makes the acriualn'.ance of
Jim Westcott, Frederick Caven-
dish's partner. Westcott renents the
Interest taken In Stella by Beaton,
whom he knows only an a visiting
New Yorker, and worsts him In a
flstlc encounter.
CHAPTER V—Continued.
The girl's eyes dwelt lovingly for
Rome time on the far-flung' line of
mountains, before she finally released
the green shade, and shut out the
Boone. Her toilet was a matter of but
a few minutes, ultliough she took oc-
casion to slip on a fresh waist, and to
brighten up the shoes, somewhat
soiled by the trnmp through the thick
dust the evening before. Indeed, It
wits a very charming young Woman,
her dress and appearance quite suf-
ficiently eastern, who finally ventured
out into the rough hall, and down the
single flight of stairs. The hotel was
silent, except for the heavy breathing
of a sleeper In one of the rooms she
passed, and a melancholy-looking
Chinaman, apparently engaged in
chamber work at the further end of
the hall.
She passed out Into the bright sun-
shine. and clear mountain air. The
board walk ended at the corner of the
hotel, but a narrow cinder path con-
tinued down that side of the street for
Bome distance. Through the rude win-
dow at the post office the clerk pushed
a plain mnnlla envelope Into her out-
stretched hand. Evidently from the
thinness of the letter, Farrlss had but
few Instructions to give and, thrusting
the unopened missive Into her hand-
bag, she retraced her steps to her
room.
There she ventured a startled gasp.
The suitcase which she had ieft closed
upon the floor was open—wide open—
Its contents disarranged. Some one
had rummaged It thoroughly. And Miss
Donovan knew that she was under
suspicion.
The knowledge gave the girl a sud-
den thrill, but not of fear. Instead It
served to strengthen her resolve.
There had been nothing In her valise
to show who she really was or why
she was In Haskell, and consequently,
If any vague suspicion had been
aroused as to her presence In that
community, the searchers had discov-
ered no proof by this rifling of her
bag.
Farrlss* letter contained nothing of
Interest except the fact that Enright
had also left for the West. He In-
structed her to be on the lookout for
him In Haskell, added a line or two
of suggestions, and ordered her to pro-
ceed with caution, as her quest might
prove to be a dangerous one.
Miss Donovan thought rapidly and
clearly, more than ordinarily eager to
solve this mystery? It was Frederick
Cavendish who had formerly been the
partner of Jim Westcott. This was
why no answer had come to the tele-
grams and letters the latter had sent
Past. What had become of them i Had
they fallen hands of these
others? Was f.his the true reason tor
Beaton's presence In Haskell, and also
why the La Hue woman had been
hastily sent for?
Westcott'8 discovery was not even
proven yet; its value had not been
definitely established; It was of com-
paratively small Importance contrast-
ed with the known wealth left by the
murdered man In the East. No. there
must he some other cause for this sud-
den visit to Colorado. But what? She
gave little credence to the vague sus-
picions advanced by Vulois; that was
altogether too impossible, too melodra-
matic, this thought of the substitution
of some other body. No doubt there
had been a crime committed, Its object
the attainment of money, but without
question the cost had been the life of
Frederick Cavendish.
The harsh clnng of the dinner-bell
from the porch below aroused her to a
sense of hunger.
Ten minutes later Tlmmons, guilt
less of any coat, but temporarily lay
ing aside his pipe as a special act of
courtesy, escorted her Into the dining
room and seated her at a table be-
tween the two front windows. Evi-
dently this was reserved for tlie more
distinguished guests—traveling men
and those paying regular day rates—
for its only other occupant was an In-
dividual In a check suit.
A waitress, a red-haired, slovenly
girl, with an Impediment in her speech,
took her order and disappeared In the
direction of the kitchen, and Miss
Donovan discreetly lifted her eyes to
observe the man sitting nearly op-
posite. He was not prepossessing,
yet she Instantly recognized his type,
and the probability that he would ad-
dress her If the slightest opportunity
occurred.
The waitress spread ont the various
dishes before her, and she glanced at
them hopelessly. As she lifted her
gaze she met that of her vis-a-vis fair-
ly. and managed to smile.
"Some chuck," he said in an at
tempt at good-fellowship, "but not
to remind you of the Waldorf-Astoria.
"I should say not," she answered,
testing one of her dishes cautiously.
"But why associate me with New-
York?"
"You can't hide those things In a
joint like this. When did you leave
New York?"
"Oh, more than a week ago," she
lied gracefully.
He stroked his moustache.
"Then I suppose you haven't much
late New York news? Nothing start-
ling, I mean?"
No; only what has been reported In
the western papers. I do not recall
anything particularly Interesting." She
dropped her eyes to her plate and
busied herself with a piece of tough
beef. "The usual murders, of course,
and things of that kind."
There was a moment's silence, then
the man laughed as though slightly ill
at ease. "Whatever brought a girl like
yon down in here?"
She smiled.
"I'm a feature writer; I'm doing a
series on the West for Scribbler's,"
she told him. "I visit New Mexico
next, but I'm after something else be-
sides a description of mountains and
men; I'm also going to hunt up an old
friend interested In mining, who told
me if ever I got out this way I must
look him up. He was continually sing-
ing this valley's charms, and so here
I am. And I'm planning n great sur-
prise on him. And. of course, I'm lit-
erally drinking In atmosphere—to say
nothing of local color, which seems
mostly to be men and revolvers."
The man opposite wet his lips with
his tongue in an effort to speak, but
the girl ' as busy eating and appar-
ently paid no attention. Her calm in-
difference convinced him that her
words were entirely Innocent, and his
audacity returned.
"Well," he ventured, "do you agree
with this prospector friend?"
"The scenery, you mean?" glancing
up brightly. "Why, it is wonderful, of
course, and I am not at all sorry hav-
ing made the journey, although it
hardly compares with Tennessee Pass
or Silver Plume. Still, you know, It
will be pleasant to tell Mr. Cavendish
when I go back that I was here."
He choked and his face seemed to
whiten suddenly.
"Mr. Cavendish?" he gasped. "Of
New York? Not the one that was
killed?"
It was her turn to stare across the
tah'.e, her eyes wide with horror, which
she simulated excellently.
"Killed! Has a man by that name
been killed lately In New York? It
was Frederick Cavendish I referred
to." Her pretense was admirable.
Fie was silent, realizing lie had al-
ready said too -much.
"Tell me," she Insisted, "has he
been killed? How do you know?"
Her earn£§t/ies5. her perfect acting,
convinced lihn. It was a mere coin-
cidence, he thought, that this name
should have crcpped up between them,
but, now that it had, -he must ex-
plain the w"holer affair'-Ko irs not to
arouse suspicions < He clehred his
throat and compelled Ills-eyes to meet
those across the table.
"Well, I don't know r uch about It,
only what I read," hp began, feeling
for words. "He was found dead In bis
apartments, apparently killed by a
burglar who had rifled his safe."
She sat with her chin Id the palm
of one hand, watching him from be-
neath the shadow of lowered lashes,
but his eyes were bent downward at
his plate.
"Are you through?" he questioned
suddenly.
"Yes; this—this awful news has
robbed me of all appetite."
Neither had noticed Westcott as he
entered the room, but his first glance
about revealed their presence, and
without an instant of hesitancy the big
miner crossed the room and ap-
proached the table where the two
-were sitting.
"I hope I do not Interrupt," be said
pleasantly. " I had reason to suppose
you were unacquainted with Mr. Bea-
ten here."
"What reason?" her surprised tone
slightly indignant.
"I believe the gentleman so In-
formed me. It chanced that we had
a slight controversy last night."
"Over me?"
"Over his curiosity regarding you—
who you vere; your presence here.
I Informed him that it was none of
his business, and that If he mentioned
your name In ray presence again there
was liable to be trouble. We scrapped
it out."
"You—you scrapped it out? You
mean there was a fight over me—a
barroom squabble over me?"
"Not in a barroom; in the hotel of-
fice. Beaton drew a gun, and I had to
slug him."
"But the affair originated over me—
my name was brought Into it?" she In-
sisted. "You actually threatened him
because he asked about me?"
"I reckon that was about how It
started," he admitted slowly. "You
see, I rather thought I was a sorter
friend of yours, and that I ought to
stand up for you."
Her eyes were scornful, angry.
"Indeed! Well, permit me to say,
Mr. Westcott, that I choose my own
friends, and am perfectly competent
to defend my own character. This
closes our acquaintanceship."
She moved about the end of the
table and touched Beaton's sleeve
with her fingers.
Would you escort me to the foot of
the stairs?" she asked, her voice
softening. "We will leave this bellig-
erent Individual to his own company."
Neither of them glanced back, the
girl still speaking as they disappeared,
but Westcott turned in his chair to
watch them cross the room. He had
no sense of anger, no desire to retali-
ate, but he felt dazed and as though
the whole world was suddenly turned
upside down. So she really belonged
with that outfit, did she? Well, it
was a good joke on him.
Before he finished his meal his mood
had changed to tolerant amusement.
That tli > girl had deliberately deceived
him was plain enough, revealed now
in both her manner and words. It
was clear she really belonged to the
Lacy crowd, and had no more use for
him. *
He could scarcely comprehend the
situation; how a girl of her apparent
refinement and gentility could ever be
attracted by a rough, brutal type such
as Ned Beaton so evidently was. There
surely must be some other cause draw-
ing them together. Yet, whatever It
was, there was no doubt but that he
had been very properly snubbed. Her
words stung: yet it was the manner
In which she had looked at him and
swept past at Beaton's side which hurt
the most. Oh, well, an enemy more
or less made small difference In his
life; he would laugh at it and forget.
She had made her chnice of compan-
ionship, and It was just as well, prob-
ably, that the affair had gone no fur-
ther before he discovered the sort of
girl she really was.
Westcott reached this decision and
the outer office at the same time, ex-
changed a careless word or two with
Timmons, and finally purchased a ci-
gar and retired to one corner to pe-
ruse an old newspaper. It was not so
easy to read, however, for the news
failed to Interest or keep his mind
from wandering widely.
Who was this Beaton, and what
connection could be have with Bill
Lacy's gang? The row last night had
revealed • mutual interest between
the men, but what Was its nature?
Lacy's purpose he believed he under-
stood to some extent—a claim that It
was an extension of the La Roslta
vein which Westcott had tapped in his
recent discovery. But he had no per-
sonal fear of Lacy; not, at lent \ If
he could once get the backing of Cav-
endish's money. But these other
people—Beaton, Miss Donovan, and
still another expected to arrive soon
from the East—how were they con-
nected with the deal?
He was so deeply engrossed In these
thoughts that he remained unaware
that Tlmmons had left the office, or
that the Chinese man-of-all-work had
silently tlptoed^down the stairs and
was cautiously peering in through the
open doorway to make sure the coast
was clear. Assured as to this, the wily
oriental sidled noiselessly across the
floor and paused beside him.
"Zis Meester Vest c-ott?" he asked
softly.
"That's my name, John; what Is It?"
The messenger shook a folded paper
out of his sleeve, thrust It Into the
other's hand hastily, and, with a hur-
ried glance about, started to glide
away as silently as he had come. He
vanished into the dark hall, and there
was the faint clatter of his shoes on
the stairs.
Westcott, fully aroused, cast his
glance about the deserted room, and
unfolded the paper which had been
left In his fingers. His eyes took in
the few penciled words Instantly.
"Do not be angry. I had the best
of reasons. Meet me near the lower
bridge at three o'clock. Very impor-
tant. S. D."
He read the lines over again, his
lips emitting a low whistle, his eyes
(.arkening v.ith sudden appreciation.
It had been a trick, then, a bit of play-
"Would You Escort Me to the Foot of
the Stairs?"
acting I But had it? Was not this
rather the real fraud—this sudden
change of heart This note might
have a sinister purpose; be intended
to deceive. No! He would not be-
lieve this. All his old lurking faith
in her came back in a flash of revela-
tion. He would continue to believe in
her, trust her, feel that some worthy
purpose had Influenced her strange
action. And, above all, he would be
at the lower bridge on the hour set.
He was back at the desk when Tim-
mons returned.
"What do I owe you, old man?"
He paid the bill jokingly and In
the best of humor, careful to tell the
proprietor that he was leaving for
his mine and might not return for sev-
eral days. He possessed confidence
that Timmons would make no secret
of this In Haskell after his departure.
He was glad to notice that Beaton
observed him as he passed the Good
Luck saloon and went tramping down
the dusty road.
The only carriage belonging to the
town livery passed soon after his ar-
rival, evidently bound for the station,
and from his covert he recognized
Beaton lolling carelessly In the back
seat. This must mean that the man
expected arrivals on the afternoon
train, important arrivals whom he de-
sired to honor. There was no sign,
however, of Miss Donovan; the time
was up, yet with no evidence of her
approach.
Westcott waited patiently, arguing-
to himself that her delay might be
caused by her wish to get Beaton well
out of the way before she ventured to
leave the hotel. At last he strode
down the path to the bridge, and saw
her leaning over the rail, staring at
the ripples below.
"Why," he exclaimed in surprise,
"how long have you been here?"
"Several minutes," and she turned
to face bim. "I waited until the car-
riage passed before coming onto the
bridge. I took the foot path from the
hoteU"
"Yru sent for me; there is soma ex-
planation, no doubt?"
The lady smiled, lifting her eyes to
his face.
"There Is." she answered. "A per-
fectly satisfactory one, I believe; but
this place Is too prominent, as I have
a rather long story to tell."
"There Is a rock seat below, Jnst be-
yond the clump of willows, quite out
of sight from the road," he suggested.
"Perhaps you would go with me
there?"
"What trail Is that?"
"It leads to mines up the canyon,
my own Included, but Is not greatly
(raveled; the main trail Is farther
east."
She walked to the edge of the bridge
and permitted him to assist her down
the bank. There was something of
reserve about her manner, which pre-
vented Westcott from feeling alto-
gether at ease. Neither broke the si-
lence between them until they readied
the flat boulder and had found seats
In the shelter of overhanging trees.
She sat a n>oment, then she turned
toward him .questioningly.
"I was ve.-y rude," she said, "but
you will forgive me when I explain
the cause. I had to act as I did or
else lose my hold entirely on that
man—you understand?"
"I do not need to understand," he
answered gallantly. "It Is enough that
you say so."
"No. It is not enough. I value your
friendship, Mr. Westcott, and I need
your advice."
"You may feel confidence in me."
"Oh, I do; indeed, you cannot real-
ize how thoroughly I trust you," and
Impulsively she touched his hand with
her own. "That is why I wrote you
to meet me here—so I could tell you
the whole story."
He waited, his eyes on her face.
"I received my letter this morning—
the letter I told you I expected, con-
taining my instructions. They—they
relate to this man Ned Beaton and the
woman he expects on this train."
"Yonr instructions?" he echoed
doubtfully. "You mean you have been
sent after these people on some crimi-
nal matter? You are a detective?"
There must have been a tone of
distrust In his voice, for etfe turned
and faced him defiantly. - '•>
"No; not that. Listen: I am a
newspaper woman, a special writer
on the New York Star." She paused,
her cheeks flushing with nervousness.
"It—It was very strange that I mot
you first of all—for it seems that the
case Is of personal Interest to you."
"To me! Why,-"that is hardly likely,
If It originated In Nevr York."
"It did"—she drew in a sharp
breath—"for It originated in the mur-
der of Frederick Cavendish."
"The murder of Cavendish! He has
been killed?"
"Yes; at least that Is what every-
one believes, except possibly one man
—his former valet. His body was
fouud lying dead on the floor of his
private aparlment, the door of his safe
open, the money and papers missing.
The coroner's jury brought in a ver-
dict of murder on these facts."
"But when was this?"
She gave the date and he studied
over It.
"The same day he should have re-
ceived my telegram," he said gravely.
'That's why the poor fellow never an-
swered." He turned to her suddenly.
"But what became of my others," I14
asked, "and of all the letters I wrote?1
"That Is exactly what I want to
learn. They must have been delivered
to his cousin, John Cavendish. I'll tell
you til I know, and then perhaps, be-
tween us, we may be able to figure It
out."
Briefly and clearly she set before
him the facts she and Willis had been
able to gather: the will, the connec-
tion between Enright and John Cav-
endish. the quarrel between John and
Frederick, the visit of John to En-
rlght's office, the suspicion of Valois
that the murdered man was not Cav-
endish, and, finally, the conversation
overheard in Stelnway's, the torn tel-
egram, and the meeting between Ce-
leste La Rue and Enright.
When she had finished Westcott sat,
chin in hand, turning the evidence
over In his mind. "Do you believe
Frederick Cavendish Is dead?" he
asked suddenly.
"Yes."
Westcott struck his hand down on
the rock, his eyes glowing dangerously.
"Well, 1 don't I" he exclaimed. "I
believe he Is alive! My theory is that
this was all carefully arranged, but
that circumstances compelled them to
act quickly and before they were
entirely ready. Two unexpected oc-
currence hurried them Into action."
Enright the lawvgr and
the blonde La Rue.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
At the Phone.
"The operator has .given me the
wrong number," said Hie -man's voice.
"The number's all right," said the
woman's voice. "The operator has
ctv«a tt the wroog p-wwo."—fkmtm
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McDowell, C. S. Canadian Valley Record (Canton, Okla.), Vol. 10, No. 9, Ed. 1 Thursday, August 5, 1920, newspaper, August 5, 1920; (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc176334/m1/3/: accessed April 19, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.