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Novelized from the Photo Play of the Same Name. Produced Dy the Universal
Film Manufacturing Company.
SYNOPSIS.
• Hanford Quest, master criminologist of
/ the world, finds that in bringing to jus
dice Macdougal. the murderer of Lord
Ashleigh's daughter, he has but just be
gun a life-and-death struggle with a mys
terious muster criminal. In a hidden hut
in Professor Ashleigh's garden he has seen
an ape skeleton and a living creature, half
monkey, half man, destroyed by fire. In
his rooms have appeared black boxes con
taining notes, signed by a pair of arm
less hands. I.aura and Lenora, his assis
tants. suspect Craig, the professor’s serv
ant, of a double murder The black boxes
continue to appear in uncanny fashion.
Craig, trapped, escapes to England.
Quest, Lenora and the professor follow
him. Lord Ashleigh is murdered by the
hands. Craig, captured, escapes to Port
Said. Quest and his party follow, and be
yond into the desert. They are captured
by Mongars. escape with Craig as their
captive, and turn him over to Inspector
French in San Francisco. He escapes in
a train wreck, outgenerals his pursuers,
and starts back to New York.
FOURTEENTH INSTALLMENT
A BOLT FROM THE BLUE.
CHAPTER XXXI.
There was a peculiar, almost fore
boding silence about the camp that
morning when Laura returned from
her early ride. The only living person
to be seen was the Chinaman, sitting
on a stool in front of the wagon with
a dish of potatoes between his knees.
“Say, where’s everyone?” Laura
sang out, after she had looked into Le
nora’s tent and found it empty.
The Chinaman looked up at her
malevolently.
“All gone,” he announced. “Cow
boys gone workee. Missee gone hurry
up find Mr. Quest.”
Laura hesitated, puzzled. Just then
the professor came cantering in with
a bundle of grass in his hand. He
glanced down at the Chinaman.
“Good morning, Miss Laura!” he
said. “You don’t seem to be getting
on with our friend here,” he added in
an undertone.
“Pshaw!” she answered. “Who
cares what a chink thinks! The fel
low's an idiot. I’m worried, professor.
Lenora's gone out after Mr. Quest and
the inspector. She wasn’t fit to ride
a horse. I can’t make out why she’s
attempted it.”
The professor unslung some field
glasses from his shoulder and gazed
steadily southward.
“It is just possible,” he said, softly,
“that she may have received a warn
ing of that.”
He pointed with his forefinger. Laura
peered forward. There was something
which seemed to be just a faint cloud
upon the horizon. The professor
handed her his glasses.
“Why, it’s a fire!” she cried.
The professor nodded.
“Just a prairie fire,” he replied —
“very dangerous, though, these dry
seasons. The flames move so quickly
that if you happen to be in a certain
position you might easily be cut off.”
Laura turned her horse round.
“Come on, professor!” she ex
claimed. “That’s what it is. Lenora’s
gone to try and warn the others.”
They rode to the very edge of the
tract of country which was temporar
ily enveloped in smoke and flame.
Here they pulled in their horses and
the professor looked thoughtfully
through his field glasses.
Laura gave a little cry and pointed
with her riding whip. About twenty
yards farther on, by the side of the
road, was a small white object. She
cantered on, swung herself from her
horse and picked it up.
“Lenora’s handkerchief!” she cried.
The professor waved his arm west
ward.
“Here come Quest and the inspec
tor. They are making a circuit to
avoid the fire. The cowboy with them
must have shown them the way. We’d
better hurry up and find out if they’ve
seen anything of Miss Lenora.”
They galloped across the rough
country towards the little party, who
were now clearly in sight.
From the center of one of the burn
ing patches they saw a riderless horse
gallop out, stop for a moment with
his head almost between his forelegs,
shake himself furiously and gallop
blindly on again.
Laura would have turned her horse,
but the professor checked her.
“Let us wait for Quest,” he advised.
The cowboy, riding a little behind
the two others, had unlimbered his
lariat, swung it over his head and se
cured the runaway. Quest galloped up
to where Laura and the professor were
waving frantically.
“Say, that’s some fire!” Quest ex
claimed. “Did you people come out to
see it?”
“No, we came to find Lenora!”
Laura answered, breathlessly. “That’s
her horse. She started to meet you
must be somewhere —”
“Lenora?” Quest interrupted, fierce
ly. “What do you mean?”
“When I got back to camp,” Laura
continued, rapidly, “there wasn’t a
soul there except the Chinaman. He
told me that Lenora had ridden off a
few minutes before to find you. We
came to look for her. We found her
handkerchief on the road there, and
that'* bar horse.”
Quest did not wait for another word.
He jumped a rough bush of scrub on
the right-hand side, galloped over the
ground, which was already hot with
the coming fire, and followed along
down the road which Lenora had
passed. When he came to the first
bend, he could hear the roar of flames
in the trees. A volume of smoke al
most blinded him; his horse became
wholly unmanageable. He slipped
from the saddle and ran on, staggering
from right to left like a drunken man.
About forty yards along the road, Le
nora was lying in the dust. A volume
of smoke rushed over her. The tree
under which she had collapsed was
already afire. A twig fell from it as
Quest staggered up, and her skirt be
gan to smoulder. He tore off his coat,
wrapped it around her, beat out the
fire which was already blazing at her
feet and snatched her into his arms.
She opened her eyes for a moment.
“Where are we?” she whispered.
“The fire!”
"That’s all right,” Quest shouted.
“We'll be out of it in a moment. Hold
tight to my neck.”
“Say, that was a close shave,” he
faltered, as he laid Lenora upon the
ground. “Another five minutes —well,
we won't talk about it. Let's lift her
on to your horse, Laura, and get back
to the camp.”
CHAPTER XXXII.
The professor laid down his book
and gazed with an amiable smile to
wards Quest and Lenora.
“I fear.” he remarked, dolefully,
‘‘that my little treatise on the fauna of
the northern Orinoco scarcely appeals
to you, Mr. Quest.”
Quest, whose arm was in a sling, but
who was otherwise none the worse for
his recent adventure, pointed out of
the tent.
“Don’t you believe it, professor,” he
begged. “I’ve been listening to every
word. But say, Lenora, just look at
Laura and French!”
They all three peered anxiously out
of the opening of the tent. I.*ura and
the inspector were very slowly ap
proaching the cook wagon. Laura
w'as carrying a large bunch of wild
flowers, one of which she was in the
act of fastening in French's button
hole.
“That fellow French has got grit,”
Quest declared. “He sticks to it all
the time. He’ll win out with Laura
in the end, you mark my words.”
“We’ve wired for them to meet
Craig,” Quest said, after a short si
lence. “I only hope they don’t let him
slip through their fingers. I haven’t
much faith in his promise to turn up
at the professor’s. Let’s see what
Laura and French have to say.” . . .
“Can’t see any sense in staying on
here any longer,” was French’s imme
diate decision, “so long as you two
invalids feel that you can stick the
journey. Besides, we’re using up
these fellows’ hospitality.”
They busied themselves for the next
hour or two, making preparations.
After their evening meal the two men
walked with Lenora and Laura to
their tent.
“I think you girls had better go to
bed,” Quest suggested. “Try and get
a long night's sleep.”
‘That’s all very well,” French re
marked, “but it's only eight o’clock.
What about a stroll. Miss Laura, just
up to the ridge?”
Laura hesitated for a moment and
glanced towards Lenora.
“Please go,” the latter begged. “I
really don’t feel like going to sleep
just yet.”
‘l’ll look after Lenora,” Quest prom
ised. “You have your walk. There’s
the professor sitting outside his tent.
Wouldn’t you like to take him with
you?”
Laura glanced indignantly at him as
they strolled out, and Lenora laughed
softly.
“How dared you suggest such a
thing!” she murmured to Quest. “Do
look at them. The inspector wants
her to take his watch and she can’t
quite make up her mind about it. Why,
Laura's getting positively frivolous.”
When the inspector returned Quest
handed him a telegram:
To Inspector French, Allguez, N. M.:
Very sorry. Craig gave us slip after
leaving depot. Niece disappeared from
address given. No clues at present.
When are you returning?
French swore softly for a moment.
Then he dropped into a chair.
“This,” he declared, “is our unlucky
evening.”
CHAPTER XXXIII.
The woman who had just laid the
cloth for a homely evening meal
smiled across at the girl who stood
at the window.
“It’s all ready now directly your
uncle comes home,” she announced.
Mrs. Malony came to the girl's
side.
“Your poor uncle looks as though a
little peace would do him good,” she
remarked.
The girl sighed.
THE DOUGLAS ENTERPRISE, DOUGLAS, GEORGIA.
"If only I could do something for
him!” she murmured.
‘He's in some kind of trouble, I
think, ’ Mrs. Malony observed. ‘He
is not what you might call a commu
nicative person, but it’s easy to see
that he is far from being happy in
himself. You’ll ring when you're
ready, Miss Mary?”
The door was suddenly opened and
Craig entered.
“Look across the road,” he begged.
“Tell me if there is a man in a blue
serge suit and a bowler hat, smok
ing a cigar, looking across here. ’
Mrs. Malony and the girl both
obeyed. The girl was the first to
speak.
“Yes,” she answered. “He is looking
straight at these windows. ’
Craig groaned and sank down upon
a chair.
“Leave us, if you please, Mrs. Ma
lony,” he ordered. “I'll ring when I'm
ready.”
The landlady left the room silently.
The girl came over to her uncle and
threw her arm around Ills neck.
He patted her head, felt in his pock
ets and drew out a little paper bag,
from which he shook a bunch of vio
lets,
“How kind you are to me!” she ex
claimed. “You think of everything!”
He sighed.
“If I had had you for a little longer,
Mary,” ho said, "perhaps I should have
been a better man. Go to the window,
please, and tell me if that man is
still there.”
She crossed the room with light
footsteps. Presently she returned.
“He is just crossing the street,”
she announced. “I think that he seems
to be coming here.”
Craig took the girl for a minute into
his arms.
“Good-by, dear,” he said. “I want
you to take this paper and keep it
carefully. You will be cared for al
ways, but I must go.”
“But where must you go?” she
asked, bewildered.
“I have an appointment at Profes
sor Ashleigh's,” he told her. “I cannot
tell you anything more than that.
Good-by.”
He kissed her for a moment pas
sionately. Then suddenly he tore him
self away. She heard him run lightly
down the stairs. Some instinct led her
to the back window. She saw him
emerge from the house and pass down
the yard. Then she went to the front.
The man in the blue serge was talking
to the landlady below. She sank into
a chair, puzzled and unhappy. Then she
heard heavy footsteps. The door was
opened. The man in the blue serge
suit entered, followed by the protest
ing landlady.
“There’s no sense in coming here
to worry the young lady,” Mrs. Malony
declared, irritably. “As for Mr. Craig,
I told you that he’d gone out.”
“Gone out, eh?” the man repeated,
speaking in a thick, disagreeable tone.
“Why, I watched him in here not ten
minutes ago. Now then, young lady,
yj» BKaBaMMHWw. . ,
“I Cannot Tell You Anything More.
Good-By.”
guess you’d better cough up the truth.
Where’s this precious uncle of yours?”
“My uncle has gone out,” the girl
replied, drawing herself up. “He left
five minutes ago.”
“What’s that in your hand?” he de
manded.
“Something my uncle gave me be
fore he went out,” the girl replied.
“I haven't looked at it yet myself.”
“Give it here,” he ordered.
She spread it out upon the table.
“You may look at it if you choose,”
she agreed. “My uncle did not tell
me not to show it to anyone.”
They read it together. The few
lines seemed to be written with great
care. They took, indeed, the form of
a legal document, to which was af
fixed the seal of a notary and the
name of a witness:
“I, John Craig, being about to re
ceive the just punishment for all my
sins, hereby bequeath to my niece,
Mary Carlton, all moneys and prop
erty belonging to me, a list of which
she will find at this address. I make
one condition only of my bequest, and
I beg my niece to fervently respect it.
It is that she never of her own con
sent or knowledge speak to anyone of
the name of Ashleigh, or associate
with any of that name.
JOHN CRAIG.
The man folded up the paper.
“I'll take care of this,” he said. “It’s
yours, right enough. We’ll just need
to borrow it for a time. Go and get
your hat and coat on, miss.”
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“He Fought Too Hard,” Quest Said Gravely. “He Is Dead!"
“I shall not,” the girl objected. “My
uncle told me, if anything happened
to him, that I was to remain here.”
“And remain here she shall, as long
as she likes," Mrs. Malony insisted.
‘T’ve given my promise, too, to look
after her, and Mr. Craig knows that
I am an honest woman.”
“You may be that,” the man re
plied, “but it’s just as well for you
both to understand this. I’m from the
police and what I say goes. No harm
will come to the girl, Mrs. Malony,
and she shall come back here, but for
the present she is going to accompany
me to headquarters. If you make any
trouble, I only have to blow my whis
tle and I can fill your house with po
licemen.”
“I’ll go,” the girl whispered.
In silence she put on her hat and
coat, in silence she drove with him
to the police station, where she was
shown at once into the inspector's of
fice. The man who had brought her
whispered for a moment or two with
his chief and handed him the paper.
Inspector French read it and whis
tled softly. He took up the telephone
by his side.
“Say, you’ve something of a find
here,” he remarked to the plain
clothes man. “Put me through to Mr.
Quest, please,” he added, speaking
into the receiver.
The two men whispered together.
The girl stole from her place and
turned over rapidly the pages of a di
rectory which was on the round table
before her. She found the “A's” quick
ly. Her eye fell upon the name of
Ashleigh. She repeated the address
to herself and glanced around. The
two men were still whispering. For
the moment she was forgotten. She
stole on tiptoe across the room, ran
down the stone steps and hastened
into the street.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
The professor, who was comfort
ably seated in Quest's favorite easy
chair, glanced at his watch and shook
his head.
•J am afraid, my friend,” he said,
“that Craig’s nerve has failed him. A
voluntary surrender was perhaps too
much to hope for. ’
Quest smoked for a moment in si
lence.
His servant entered bearing a note.
“This was left a few minutes ago,
sir,” he announced, “by a messenger
boy. There was no answer required.”
The man retired. Quest unfolded
the sheet of paper. His expression
suddenly changed.
“Listen!” he exclaimed.
To Sanford Quest:
Gather your people in Professor
Ashleigh’s library at ten o’clock to
night. I will be there and tell you my
whole story. JOHN CRAIG.
The professor sat for a moment
speechless.
“Then he meant it, after all!” he
exclaimed at last.
“Seems like it,” Quest admitted. “I’ll
just telephone to French.”
The professor rose to his feet,
knocked the ash from his cigar, strug
gled into his coat and took up his hat.
Then he waited until Quest had com
pleted his conversation. The latter’s
face had grown grave and puzzled. It
was obvious that he was receiving in
formation of some importance. He
put down the instrument at last with
a curt word of farewell.
The professor moved towards the
door.
“If only this may prove to be the
end!” he sighed.
Quest spent the next hour or so in
restless deliberations. There were
still many things which puzzled him.
At about a quarter past nine Lenora
and Laura arrived, dressed for their
expedition.
“I’m afraid we are in for a bad
thunderstorm, girls,” Quest remarked.
Laura laughed.
“Who cares? The automobile's
there, Mr. Quest.”
“Let's go, then,” he replied.
They descended into the street and
drove to the professor’s house in si
lence. Even Laura was feeling the
strain of these last hours of anxiety.
On the way they picked up French
and a plain-clothes man and the whole
party arrived at their destination just
as the storm broke. The professor
met them in the hall. He, too, seemed
to have lost to some extent his cus
tomary equanimity.
“Come this way, my friends,” he in
vited. "If Craig keeps his word, he
will be here now within a few min
utes. This way.”
They followed him into the library.
Chairs were arranged around the table
in the middle of the room and they
all sat down. The professor took out
his watch. It was five minutes to
ten.
“In a few minutes.” he continued
solemnly, “this weight is to be lifted
from the minds of all of us. I have come
to the conclusion that on this occa
sion Craig will keep his word. I am
not sure, mind, but I believe that he
is in the house at this present moment.
I have heard movements in the room
which belonged to him. 1 have not
interfered. I have been content to
wait.”
“He has at least not tried escape,”
Quest remarked. "French here brought
news of him. He has been living with
his niece very quietly, but without
any particular attempt at concealment
or any signs of wishing to leave the
city.”
“1 had that girl brought to my office,”
French remarked, “barely an hour ago,
but she slipped away while we were
talking. Say, what’s that?”
They all rose quickly to their feet.
In a momentary lull ot the storm they
could hear distinctly a girl's shrill
calling from outside, followed by the
clamor of angry voices.
“Gee! I bet that’s the girl,” French
exclaimed. “She’d been looking up
the professor’s address in a director!'.”
They all hurried out into the hall.
The plainclothes man whom they had
left on guard was standing there with
his hand upon Craig’s collar. The
girl, sobbing bitterly, was clinging to
his arm. Craig was making desperate
efforts to escape. Directly he saw the
little party issue from the library, how
ever, the strength seemed to pass from
his limbs. He remained in the clutches
of his captor, limp and helpless.
“I caught the girl trying to make her
way into the house,” the latter ex
plained. “She called out and this man
came running downstairs, right into
my arms.”
“It is quite all right,” the professor
said, in a dignified tone. “You may
release them both. Craig was on his
way to keep an apointment here at
ten o’clock. Quest, will you and the
inspector bring him in? Let us re
sume our places at the table.” *
The little procession made its way
down the hall. The girl was still
clinging to her uncle.
“What are they going to do to you,
these people?” she sobbed. “They
sha’n’t hurt you. They sha’n’t!”
Lenora passed her arm around the
girl.
“Of course not, dear,” she said,
soothingly. “Your uncle has come of
his own free will to answer a few
questions, only I think it would be
better if you would let me —”
Lenora never finished her sentence.
They had reached the entrance now to
the library. The professor was stand
ing in the doorway with extended
hand, motioning them to take their
places at the table. Then, with no
form of warning, the room seemed
suddenly filled with a blaze of blue
light. It came at first in a thin flash
from the window to the table, became
immediately multiplied a thousand
times, played round the table in
sparks, which suddenly expanded to
sheets of leaping, curling flame. The
roar of thunder shook the very foun
dations of the house —and then silence.
For several seconds not one of them
seemed to have the power of speech.
An amazing thing had happened. The
oak table in the middle of the room
was a charred fragment, the chairs
were every one blackened remnants.
“A thunderbolt!” French gasped at
last.
Quest was H the first to cross the
room. From the table to the outside
window was one charred, black line
which had burnt its way through the
carpet. He threw open the window.
The wire whose course he had fol
lowed ended here with a little lump
of queer substance. He broke it off
from the end of the wire, which was
absolutely brittle and natureless, and
brought it into the room.
“What is it?” Lenora faltered.
“Say, what have you got there?"
French echoed.
Quest examined the strange-looking
lump of metal steadily. The most cu
rious thing about It seemed to be that
it was absolutely sound and showed
no signs of damage. He turned to the
professor.
“I think you are the only one who
will be able to appreciate this, profes
sor,” he remarked. “Look!” It is a
fragment of opotan—a distinct and 1
wonderful specimen of opotan.”
Everyone looked puzzled.
“But what,” Lenora inquired, “is
opotan?”
“It is a new metal.” Quest explained,
gravely, “towards which scientists
have been directing a great deal of at
tention lately. It has the power of col
lecting all the electricity from the
air around us. There are a dozen
people, at the present moment, con
ducting experiments with it for the
purpose of cheapening electric lights.
If we had been in the room ten sec
onds sooner—”
He paused significantly. Then he
swung round on his heel. Craig, a
now pitiful object, his hands nervous
ly twitching, his face ‘ghastly, was
cowering in the background.
“Your last little effort, Craig?” he
demanded, sternly.
Craig made no reply. The profes
sor, who had disappeared for a mo
ment, came back to them.
“There is a smaller room across the
hall,” he said, "which will do for our
purpose.”
Craig suddenly turned and faced
them.
“I have changed my mind,” he said.
“I have nothing to tell you. Do what
you will with me. Take me to the
Tombs, deal with me any way you
choose, but I have nothing to say.”
Quest pointed a threatening finger
at him.
“Your last voluntary word, perhaps,”
he said, “but science is still your mas
ter, Craig. Science has brought many
criminals to their doom. It shall take
its turn with you. Bring him along,
French, to my study. There is a way
of dealing with him.”
*******
Quest felt his forehead and found it
damp. There were dark rims under
his eyes. Before him was Craig, with
a little band around his forehead and
the mirror where they could all see It.
The professor stood a little in the
background. Laura and French were
side by side, gazing with distended
eyes at the blank mirror, and Lenora
was doing her best to soothe the ter
rified girl. Twice Quest’s teeth came
together and once he almost reeled.
“It’s the fight of his life,” he mut
tered at last, “but I’ve got him. ’
Almost as he spoke they could see
Craig’s resistance begin to weaken.
The tenseness of his form relaxed.
Quest’s will was triumphing. Slow
ly in the mirror they saw a little pic
ture creeping from the outline into
definite form, a picture of the profes
sor’s library. Craig himself was there
with mortar and trowel, and a black
box in his hand.
“It’s coming!” Lenora moaned.
Quest stood perfectly tense. The
picture suddenly flashed into brilliant
*#% '<£&%?!&> '&. lV *■ * *
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“I Caught the Girl Trying to Make
Her Way Into the House.”
clearness. They saw Craig’s features
with almost lifelike detail. From the
corner of that room where the profes
sor was standing, came a smothered
groan. It was a terrifying, a paraly
zing moment. Even the silence seemed
charged with awful things. Then sud
denly, without any warning, the pic
ture faded completely away. A cry,
which was almost a howl of anger,
broke from Quest's lips. Craig had
fallen sideways from his chair. There
was an ominous change in his face.
Something seemed to have passed
from the atmosphere of the room,
some tense and nameless quality.
Quest moved forward and laid his
hand on Craig’s heart. The girl was
on her knees, screaming.
“Take her away,” Quest whispered
to Lenora.
“What about him?” French demand
ed, as Lenora led the girl from the
room.
“He fought too hard,” Quest said,
gravely. “He is dead. Professor —”
They all looked around. The spot
where he had been standing was
empty. The professor had gone.
(TO BE CONTINUED.) i