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The Mystery of the Boole Cabinet
By Burton E. Stevenson
Copyrighted 1913 by Burton E. Stevenson
His Daughter, His Dinner—The Child in His Factory
PROLOGUE.
If a literary miner were to ap
praise this story he would say
of It:
"It pans oat a big percentage
of thrills."
There's "pay dirt" in this mys
tery story for every lover of an
exciting tale and an interesting
plot. It is one of the master
pieces of its author, who is a rec
ognited leader in the field of the
detective story.
U Round a beautifully inlaid cab-
et <Ming from the days of
Louis JXIV. which stands in a
fifth avenue mansion weaves a
ptory of plot and counterplot,
'mystery, suspense and surprise,
flim Godfrey, shrewdest of re
porters, and the detective bu
reaus of New York and Paris are
'frying to unravel the intricately
kentangled clews. And the read
er, too, will go along with them,
,breathless and absorbed, getting
now a hint, again coming up
against a blank wall, until, like
fhem, he comes to the amoving
jexplanation. And the one who
baffles reporters, detectives and
readers is Crochard, the invinci
ble, a creation in detective fic
tion.
(Continued from Yesterday)
"1 got Rogers to bed, sir." he aald.
“Ha’ll be all tight In the morning.
But faa’a a queer duck.”
“How long bare jou known him.
ParkaT
“He's been with Mr. Vintlna about
fire years. I don't know much attont
him. He’s a silent kind of fellow,
keeping to bieaelf a good deal and
aort of brooding over things Bnt he
did hla work all right, except once In
a while when be keeled orer like be
did tonight."
"Parka.” I aald suddenly, 'Tm going
to ask you a question. Too know
that Mr. Van tine waa a friend of mins
and I thought a great deal of him.
Sow, what with this story Rogers tells
and on# or two othar things, there la
tnlk of a woman. Is there any tons-
Intlun for talk of that kind?"
•No. air," aald Parks emphatically
Tee been Mr. Vnndnc’a rslet for
right years and mors, and In til that
time he haa never been mixed np with
a woman In any shape or form. 1 at
ways fancied he’d loved a lady who
died."
“Thank yon, Parks,” I aald with a
■lgb of relief. “Pre been through so
much today that I felt I couldn’t
due that And now"’—
“Beg pardon, sir," aald a voice at
tny elbow. "We have everything
ready, air."
I tuned with a start to see t little,
clean shaven man.
“lbs undertaker’s assistant, air,'
plain ad Parka, seeing my look of as
tonishment “He came while yon and
Ur. Godfrey ware in the mute room.'
“Where shall wa pat the body, sir?”
Mind tb6 BAIL
“Why not leave It when It !*r I
asked Impatiently.
“Very good, sir,” said he, and pres
ently the undertaker and hla assistant
todk themselves off, to my Inteaae re
Met
“And now, Parts,” I began, “there la
something I want to say to you. Let
go somewhere and sit down.”
“Suppose we go op to the study, sir.
Tom’re looking regularly done op. If
you'll permit me to eay so, sir.”
A f«w minutes later we were sitting
opposite each other In the room where
Vac tine and I had sat not many
home before. I Uked Parka, and I felt
he could be trusted. At any rate, 1
had to taka the risk.
“Now, Parts,” I began again, "what
I have to say to you la very serious,
and I want yen to keep It to yourself.
I know that yea were devoted to Ur.
VantlDe. I may aa well tell you that
he has remembered you In his win. I
am sue you are willing to do any
thing In your power to help solve the
mystery of hla death. I have a aort of
Idea how hla death cams about The
mystery, whatever It la, la In the ante
room where the bodice were found or
In the room next to it where the tuml-
tore la. Now, I am going to lock up
those rooms, and 1 want you to see
that nobody enters them without year
knowledge."
“Net very likely that anybody will
want to enter them, sir.” and Parka
laoghed a grim little laugh,
i/ “1 am not so sure of that.” I dis
sented. speaking very seriously. “In
fact 1 am of the opinion that there la
somebody who wants to enter those
rooms very badly. 1 am going to make
i( yonr business to keep him out and
to capture him If you catch him trying
to got In."
*“1 rust me tor that sir," mjpt Parts
promptly. “What Is It you want ms
to, dor
“1 want yon to pot a cot to the ball-
way outride the door of the anteroom
and Bleep there tonight Tomorrow I
will decide what further precautions
are aacaessiy."
“Very good, air," said Parka
get the cot up at once.”
"There Is one thing more.” I went
on. *T hove given the coroner my per-
sons] assurance that none of the serv
ants will leave tho house until after
the Inquest. I suppose 1 can rely on
them ?”
"Oh, yea air. I’ll see they under
stand bow Important It la.”
"Rogers, especially,” I added, looking
at him.
“I understand, sir." sold Porks.
“Very well. And now let us go
dawn and lock np these rooms."
They were still ablaze with light but
both of us faltered a little. I think, on
the threshold of the anteroom, for In
the middle of the floor stood a stretcher,
and on It waa an obtoct covered with a
sheet Its outlines horribly suggestive.
Rut 1 took myself In bond and en
tered. Parks followed me and closed
the door.
The anteroom bad two windows, and
the room beyond, which was a comer
one, had three. All of them were
locked, but a pane of gloss seemed to
me an ahsurdly fragile barrier against
tny one who really wished to enter.
"Aren't there some wooden shutters
for these windows?" I asked.
“Yes, air; they were taken down yes
terday and pat In the basement Shall
I get them?"
“I think you’d better.” I said. "Will
you need any help?"
"No, air; they’re not heavy. If you’ll
wait here, you can snap the holts Into
place when I lift them np from the
ontslde.”
"Very well." I agreed, and Parka hur
ried away.
I entered the Inner room and stop
ped before the Boule cabinet There
was a certain air of arrogance about
It as It stood there In that blnxo of
light; something threatening, too:
something sinister and deadly—
There was a rattle at the window,
and I saw Parks lifting one of the
shutters Into place. I threw up tho
sash, and pressed the heavy bolts core-
folly Into tbelr sockets, then closed
the sash and locked It The two other
windows were aecnred In their turn,
and with a lost look about the room.
I turned out the llgbta. The anteroom
windows were soon shuttered In the
same way. Then, before extinguish
log the lights 1 approached that silent
figure on the stretcher, lifted the sheet
and looked for the last time upon the
face of my dead friend. It waa no
longer staring and terrible, but calm
| Praised the Heavy Bolte Carefully
Inte Their 8ocketa.
tad peaceful as Id eloep—almost troll-
log. With wet eyes and contracted
throat, I covered the fece again, turn
ed out the lights and left the room.
A sudden thought occurred to me.
“Parks/* 1 said, 'is It true that there
Is a burglar alarm on sll the win
dows?”
“Tee, sir. (t rings s bell In Ur. Van-
tine’s bedroom end another In mins
end sends in a call to the police/’
“Why didn’t it work when I opened
those windows just now?” 1 demanded
Parks laughed.
“Because I threw off the switch, sir.”
he explained, “when I came out to get
the shutters. The switch Is In s little
iron box on the will Just back of the
stairs, sir. ft's one of my duties to
turn it ob every night before I go
to bed.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Is It on again notv?”
"It certainly la. sir. After what you
told me I’d not be likely to forget it"
"You’d better have s weapon bandy,
too.” I suggested.
"I have a revolver, air.”
“That’s good. And don’t hesitate to
nee ft I’m going home. I’m dead
tired."
“Shall I call a cat>. sir?"
“No; the wallfc will do me good. I’ll
see you tomorrow.” /
The walk uptown did me good It
waa long past midnight when l finally
turned In at the Marathon FTigglns.
the Janitor, was Just dosing the outer
doors, and he jolneiTme In the elevator
a moment Inter.
“There’s a gentleman waiting to see
you. sir/’ he said as the car started
upward. “Mr. Godfrey, elr. He came
In about ten mlnutea ago. He said
you were expecting him. so I lot him
Into your rooms.”
I found Godfrey lolling In an easy
chair, and be looked up with a smile
at my entrance.
“How do you keep it up. Godfrey?"
I asked, sitting down opposite him.
“You don't seem tired at all.”
“T am ti r ®d though." he said, “a lit
tle. But I’ve got a fool brain that
won’t let my body go to sleep so long
as there Is work to be done. Besides.
! have a thing or two to tell you.”
“Go ahead,’’ I said.
“We bad a cable from our Paris of
fice Just before I left It seems that
M. Theophlle D’Aureile plays the fiddle
In the orchestra of the Cafe de Paris.
He played as usual tonight so that It
Is manifestly Impossible that he should
also be lying in the New York morgua
Moreover, none of bis friends, so far
as he knows, la In America. No donbt
he may be able to Identify the photo
graph of* the dead man. and we’ve al
ready started one on the way. but we
can’t hear from it for six or eight days.
But my guess was right—the fellow’s
name isn’t D’Aureile.”
"You say you have a photograph?”
“Yes; I bad some taken of the body
this afternoon. Here's one of them.
Keep It You may have a use for It”
I took the card, and. as 1 gazed at
the face depicted upon it I realized
that the dlatorted countenance l bad
seen In the afternoon had given me
no Idea of the man's appearance. Now
the eyea were closed and the features
composed and peaceful, but even death
failed to give them any dignity. It
was a weak and dissipated face, the
face of a hanger on of cafes, of a loit
erer along the boulevards.
”1 don’t see what business be could
have had with Philip Vantine,” I aald.
"Neither do 1; but no doubt wo can
establish this fellow’s Identity In time
—sooner than we think, perhaps, for
most of the morning papers will run
hla picture, and if be is known here In
New York at all, it will be recognised
by some one. When we find out who
be Is. we can probably guoss at the
nature of bis business with Vantine.
We can find out who the woman waa
who called to see Vantine tonight—that
la just a case of grilling Rogers; then
we can run her down and get her se
cret out of her. Wo can find why Rog
ers Is trying to shield her. All that la
comparatively simple. But we don’t
want to know these things. What we
want to know la bow Philip Vantine
and this unknown Fronchman were
killed. And that la Just the one thing
which, 1 am convinced, neither the
man nor the woman nor Rogers nor
anybody else we have come across in
tbla case can tell us. There's a per
sonality behind all this that we haven't
even suspected yet and which, I am
free to confess, I don’t know how te
get at”
"Godfrey," I said, "what I am about
to tell you la told In confidence, and
must be held In confidence until I give
you .permission to uso It Do yon
agree?"
“Go on,” he said, bis eyes on my
face. v
"Well, I believe I know bow these
two men were killed. Listen."
And I told him In detail the story of
the Boule cabinet I repeated Van-
tine’s theory of Its first ownership; 1
named the price which he was ready
to pay for It; I described the difference
between an original and a counterpart
and dwelt upon Vantine’a assertion
that this was an original of unique and
unquestionable artistry.
“Beautiful!" Godfrey murmured from
time to time. “Immense! What a |
case It will make. Lester!” he cried.
"Then you eee It too T I questioned. I
"See Itr and be dropped Into hla !
chair again. “A man would be blind
not to see It But all the same. Lester,
I give you credit for putting the facta
together."
CHAPTER VI.
Guesses at the Riddle.
ERE are the facts of our
case.” and Godfrey checked
them off on hla fingers.
"The cabinet contains a se
cret drawer. Thla la Inevitable If It
really belonged to Mine, de Monteepan.
Any cabinet made for her would be
certain to have a secret drawer. That
drawer must be adequately guarded,
aud therefore a mechanism waa de
vised to stab the person attempting to
open It and to Inject into the wound a
poison so powerful as to cause Instant
death. Am I right so far?”
“Wonderfully right” I nodded. "I
had not pnt It so clearly even to my
self. Go ahead."
"We come to the conclusion, then."
continued Godfrey, "that the business
of this unknown Frenchman with Van
tine in some way concerned this cabi
net"
“Vantine himself thought eo.” I broke
in. “He told me afterward that It waa
because he thought so he consented to
see him.”
(Tr he Continued Tomorrow.)
H
*rjrm'0'*rqrjgrjgr
|ANY A MAN proud
of himself and his
money in this country
would be the centre of
a swarm of childish
ghost-faces if he had
his deserts; he would
neither eat nor sleep
nntilI it came his time
to visit the graveyard
permanently.
WWWWWWWjff
j&jsrj*arjsrjgj&e
H OW LONG WILL it
take the govern
ment that forbids dog
fights and bull fights
and cruelty to other
animals to forbid the
matching the strength
of a delicate child
against the speed of a
machine, and wearing
out the life that has
hardly begun ?
If the Exploiters of Child Labor Had Imagination or Heart Their Peace of Mind Would Often Be Disturbed by a Ghost
Like This at the Dinner Table. (See editorial.)
Other Ghosts Than Banquo’s
Ought To Be Written
Into Plays
The Man Who Turns the Lives of Children Into Money,
Dresses His Wife and Dauahter With the Lives and
Blood of Other People’s Children. Is More a Murderer
Than Macbeth, and He, Too. Should Be Haunted.
CopjVlght 1914 by Star Company.
vidow era in the
many
United
The Government of the United States is wondering
whether or not it will stop murders in Mexico.
When will the Government of the United States make
np its mind to stop the murdering of children iN AMERICA
—in Business, in the national game of earning
DIVIDENDS AND PILING UP MILLIONS?
We ought to interfere in Mexico, of course. We ought
to stop the murders of men and women and children.
Probably we shall do so.
But when shall we stop the murders here at home?
When shall we make it illegal for a man to do with
machinery and fines and early hours and heartbreaking
work and high-speed machines MURDER BY WHOLE
SALE?
We attract your attention today by the picture on this
page of a working child appearing as a ghost at the din-
ner table of a child-exploiter.
You know the famous scene of Banquo's appearance at
the feast.
Macbeth has just had him murdered, and sits down to
enjoy himself with his wife and courtiers
But the whost of Banquo leaves the corpse thrown
into the ditch and appears at the table before Macbeth's
eyes. It is no longer a pleasant dinner for Macbeth.
What a pity that the ghosts of murdered children could
not do for their employers— THEIR MURDERERS—what
Banquo's ghost did for Macbeth.
You may see in restaurants, in splendidly furnished
houses, men with money, their wives and families well
dressed, polite servants waiting upon them—and if the
ghosts of the children they have murdered in their divi
dend earning could appear you would see thousands
thousands of thin, white faces, faces of children driven
into the grave before they were old enough to know life s
meaning.
Many a man proud of himself and his money in this
country would be the centre of a swarm of childish ghost-
faces if he had his deserts; he would neither eat nor sleep
until it came his time to visit the graveyard PERMANENT
LY.
It is atrocious to permit men in Mexico to murdei
other men.
It is horrible that brute force should take helpless
creatures, stand them up against a wall and shoot them
down in dozens.
But is it not infinitely worse, in oilr own country
without the pretext of war or hatred, to permit one power
ful man to use his money, his foremen and his machines t*
deprive children of air, of sunlight, of hope, of opp° r ’
t unity?
When will murders for profit be stopped in the Un ^ te i j
States? How long will it he before that which is nobo 1
business shall become everybody’s business?
How long will it take the Government that forbids
fights and bull fights and cruelty to -other animals
FORBID MATCHING THE STRENGTH OF A DELlC * p
CHILD AGAINST THE SPEED OP A MACHINE. A
WEARING OUT THE LIFE THAT HAS HARDLY BEGU
a!.’*!?? 1
That prosperity and Immorality g->
together is the surprising statement
c by the Central South London
» Church Council in the annual
report of its social purity rescue and
temperance section*.
says that there are 6H u0 ° ,n ‘ i
women in the Smith than ^
colored persons of both ftx !'|j,*t I
fore, no one need y .r ****
colored woman * vote
things in the Soutig