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I ET US TELL YOU
More about it
THE STORY SO FAR: Running away
from marriage to Ned Paxton, rich but
a gay blade, Janice Trent becomes secre
tary In an Alaska wilderness camp over
the protest of Bruce Harcourt, a long
time friend. Bruce is chief engineer,
succeeding Joe Hale, deposed for negli
gence. Milllcent Hale, his wife, is also
attracted to Bruce. Janice tells Ned
Paxton she Is married to Harcourt. The
latter overhears her and insists on an
Immediate marriage. The newlyweds are
Interrupted at home that night by Mrs.
Hale who says her husband has been
shot dead. She exclaims: “If you had
only waited Bruce.” Bruce spends the
night investigating the murder. When
Jimmie Chester, Millicent’s brother, runs
oft in a plane Bruce brings him back.
In the meantime, Ned Paxton invites
the women to his yacht. Janice and
he, and two natives, leave in a launch
to view a volcano closer. Suddenly it
erupts. The boat is stranded on a lonely
beach. The two natives run off with the
launch. Paxton and Janice spend a fear
ful night. Their fire keeps Uie wolves
away. Bruce comes to the rescue finally.
Now continue with the story.
CHAPTER XVIII
Harcourt’s voice shook. “Nothing
up my sleeve, dear, but eats in
the cockpit.”
“And smokes?” Her voice spoke
betrayingly. “Ned has suffered un
told tortures since his last ciga
rette. He has been wonderful,
Bruce, but he is so exhausted I
was frightened. Thank God, you’ve
come. You’re so—so staunch, so
brown, so—so heart-warming.”
* • •
Bruce Harcourt tapped on the door
of Janice’s room. No answer. He
glanced at his wrist-watch. Ten
o’clock. He tapped again. Dead
to the world probably, tired child.
Immediately upon landing on the
flying field soon after dawn, she
had gone to the H house, two of the
men had rowed Paxton out to his
yacht. He hated to waken her, but
the Commissioner wanted to push
the investigation. Chester was up,
bandaged, grim-lipped, ashen. They
needed Jan to take stenographic
notes. He lifted the latch, entered
the room. She lay as in a rosy
cloud, bare arms outspread as if
she had flung herself face down in
utter exhaustion. Her hair which
waved to the shoulders of her or
chid pajama blouse still showed
damp traces of a shampoo. Her
hands were scratched and burned.
On one a circlet of diamonds emit
ted tiny sparks. His ring.
With a sudden surge of love and
longing he pressed his lips to her
bare arm. He spoke softly twice
before she stirred. She opened the
one visible eye, gazed up at him
unseeingly, as though her spirit were
struggling back from a far country,
sat up with a start. A delicate
flush spread to the little damp curls
at her temples.
“Bruce! What are you doing
here?”
He felt his color mount to match
‘ hers. “I knocked and knocked. You
didn’t answer—so —l walked in. The
Commissioner wants you to take
notes. Feel equal to it?”
She was pulling on a satin coat
colored like a Persian amethyst.
“Equal to it! I? The silly season
must be on when you ask me such a
question. I’ll be with you in just ten
minutes.” As he lingered at the
foot of the bed, she added crisply,
“that is, unless I’m detained by
callers.”
He laughed. “I’m going.”
As he strode along the board walk
he relived the few moments before
the charred shack, when he had
held Janice in his arms. Did her
emotion at seeing him come from
any deeper feeling than relief at
being rescued?
The question lay ilke an under
tone in his mind as he conferred
with the Commissioner and his dep
uty in the Samp living-room. Jimmy
Chester appeared unconscious of the
black-robed woman beside him who
clutched at his hand with its dark
seal-ring. The Commissioner sensed
her appealing loveliness if Jimmy
didn’t, Bruce Harcourt told him
self, as he noted the official’s fur
tive glances in her direction. The
eyes of Martha Samp were on the
same business, as she sat stiff-joint
ed as a marionette in the wing-back
chair. Miss Mary, in a low rocker,
was darning a sock. She looked up
as Janice entered in a navy blue
frock with collar and cuffs of ex
quisite fineness.
“My dear! My dear! I lived cen
turies last night. I didn’t know how
you had grown into my heart—until
—until—” she wiped her eyes.
“Martha was right when she said
where you were was home for her
and me.”
Janice left a kiss on her soft gray
hair before she took the chair with
a broad arm which the deputy fussi
ly placed for her.
The Commissioner looked up from
his notes. “Bring in the Indian
girl.”
Miss Mary padded out of the room
breathlessly, her usually serene face
crinkled with anxiety.
Tatima swayed in on the heels
I of the younger Samp sister. Her
practical work-dress was a maze of
brilliant color, her blue beads were
her only ornament. Her great dark
eyes smoldered, she tossed her su
perb head as she met the Commis
sioner’s grilling eyes.
“Hear you’ve had a present late
ly-”
“Who, me?”
"Yes, you. Who gave you that
HOUSTON HOME JOURNAL, PERRY, GEORGIA
The Indian bared yellow teeth in a wolfish smile.
silver jewelry you were swaggering
round in?”
“Who tole you I—w’at you say,
swagger?”
“Answer my question. Who gave
you the silver?”
“Kadyama.”
“Is that true?” He turned to the
lowering Indian, who stood awk
wardly twisting a soft hat in his
hand.
“Yes. I geeve it. She marry on
me.”
“Cost a lot of money, didn’t it?
Where’d you get the cash?”
Kadyama shot the inquisitor a
murderous glance before he mo
tioned with his thumb.
“Pasca pay money he owe.”
Harcourt stared incredulously at
his house-boy. Pasca with money!
“Is this true? Did you pay Kady
ama money?”
Pasca looked furtively at Chester.
Did he answer with a slight nod or
was it a figment of his own hectic
imagination, Harcourt wondered.
“Yes sirree. I pay Kadyama
much money. Leetle game we had.
I lost. He want long time I pay.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“He geeve it me.” All eyes fol
lowed his nod toward the couch.
“Mm. You say that Mr. Ches
ter gave it to you. Know where he
got it?”
“How I know where he get it? He
mak much money p’raps. All engi
neers mak much money.”
“Why did he give it to you?”
“Meester Chester, he say to me,
T geeve you two hun’ed dollar—you
help me.’ He nice fella. I say
‘Sure.’ ”
“How did he want you to help
him?”
“He say he must mak quick get
away in plane the fella you sen’ for
finger-print man go in. I help your
man, honest lak, then Meester Ches
ter pull heem out hard. I help
Meester Chester get off, den lock up
your man. Meester Chester pay me
two hun’ed dollar. I pay Kadyama.
Yes sirree.”
“Is this true, Chester?”
“Yes.”
“Where’d you get that money?
Hale’s roll?”
A contemptuous smile touched the
corners of Jimmy Chester’s
blanched lips. “No. I’ve never
needed to steal from my brother-in
law.”
“Then where—”
“Just a minute, Commissioner. I
wish next you’d ask Kadyama why
he wasn’t at the squaw-dance the
night Joe Hale was shot. Why he
was hanging round the back door
of the Hale cabin.” Grant’s voice
caught in a gulp, his green eyes
blazed with excitement. Kadyama
started to bolt. Grant caught him.
“Come across, Kadyama.”
The Commissioner sat forward in
his seat.
“Yes, Kadyama—come across.”
A speck of foam bubbled at the
corners of the Indian’s lips, his eyes
burned deep ruby lights.
“Aw right, I tell. I went to Hale
cabin—good chance—one, two dance
goin’, everybody there, he alone, to
tell heem Tatima my squaw.”
“Did you tell him?”
“Never had no chance. I go in
back door. Look roun’ screen. Mees
ter Hale sit in wheel-chair countin’
roll of money. I tink, now’s my
time. I step out—not quick enough
—front door open, slow —slow—”
“Go on! Who came in that door?”
Kadyama pointed to the couch.
“Chester! I thought so. What did
Hale do when he came in?”
Kadyama sniffed contempt. “You
tink you pretty smart fella, catch
me, huh? Not Meester Chester come
in. She, Mees Hale.” He pointed
to the woman who sat, fair head
bent, clutching her brother’s hand.
Miilicent! She had said that she
had found Hale dead! Harcourt
crushed back dismay, to listen.
“Mrs. Hale. Are you sure?”
“Let me speak.”
“Sit down, Chester, your turn will
come. Go on, Kadyama, what hap
pened next?”
“Meester Hale, he begin to talk
loud an’ hard. Vera fast. Mees
Hale say nothin’. She open table
drawer, tak out somethin’. She
laugh, she say:
“ ‘See this revolver, Joe? I bor
rowed it. Bully in you skulk when
Jimmy t’reaten you. I try it. If
you say one word more, I fire.’ He
curse, jump for her, he catch re
volver way from her han’, it fire,
he fall. I go.”
The occupants of the room sat as
still as though under the spell of a
necromancer.
Millicent Hale rose, caught the
mantel shelf to steady herself.
‘‘Kadyama is telling the truth. I
had seen my husband cringe be
fore my brother’s threat. I thought,
‘Perhaps I’ve been too easy, per
haps Joe will have more respect
for me if I defy him.’ I had been
frightfully unhappy. It seemed as
though I couldn’t go on another day.
I was crazed with despair.” Her
voice, which had been broken, stead
ied. She straightened, cast off con
fusion, fear, like a princess discard
ing a tattered cloak. ‘‘Believe me
or not, I had not the slightest inten
tion of shooting my husband. I
didn’t even know the revolver was
loaded. I had never had one in
my hand before I took Mr. Har
court’s down from the wall and hid
it in our cabin. Before I could make
my grandstand play of aiming it,
Joe had caught it. It went off. He
fell. Terrified, I tried to lift him.
Horrified, I realized what had hap
pened. I would be accused of shoot
ing him, I, who never in my life
had hurt anything. What should I
do? A roll of money lay at his
feet. I tucked it into the bosom of
my gown. Crazed, I picked up the
revolver, stole down to the shore,
flung it into the water. 1 raced and
stumbled to the H house to tell
Bruce Harcourt what had happened.
He would advise me what to do.
When he opened the door—l remem
bered that that —he was mar
ried—l called out something, then
the room went black.” She dropped
to the couch. Her brother put his
bandaged arm about her.
The Commissioner’s eyes were
points of steel as he regarded them.
“If that’s true—” he held up his
hand as Millicent Hale opened her
lips. “I believe you. Only a fool
would doubt your story—why in the
devil did you make your get-away,
Chester?”
“It was a dumb move. When Har
court told me that his revolver had
been stolen, the remembrance of my
sister’s laugh after I had threat
ened her husband flashed through
my mind. I remembered the ques
tions she had asked, the interest
she had shown in the holster on the
H house wall the afternoon we were
decorating for the party. I was
certain that she had shot him. I
felt responsible. I had put the fool
idea into her head. I didn’t realize
it was an accident. I thought if I
got away you would think I did it.
It would give us time to figure out
the best thing to be done.”
The Commissioner glared at Kady
ama. “Why haven’t you told of
what you saw?”
The Indian bared yellow teeth in
a wolfish smile. “Why I tell? Much
obliged to Mees Hale. She save
me much trouble—p’raps prison. I
help her. W’en you say I shoot
heem den plenty time to tell.”
“It didn’t occur to you that com
ing across with the truth was the
best thing to be done, I suppose,
Chester?”
“Sakes alive, Mr. Commissioner,
it occurred to me.” Martha Samp’s
agate eyes sparkled.
“You—you—suspected the truth
all this time?” The Commissioner’s
diction suggested a skipping motor
engine.
“I did. I told you I heard her
and her husband quarreling, I didn’t
try to hear what they said. I slipped
away as I told you, thinkin’ that
while ice-cream might be coolin’ to
the tongue, ’twouldn’t do much to
tempers. That night when I went
to the H house an’ found her skins
all wet and draggled, I suspected;
when I found this tucked in her
bodice —I knew.”
She drew a roll of bills from her
pocket, tossed it to the table. Color
darkened the Commissioner’s face
His fingers twitched with anger.
“You’ve let us sweat blood over
this when all the time you knewi
Why didn’t you tell, woman?”
Martha Samp rose in impressive
d’gnity. “You came here like i
lord. Just thought I’d see how a
real live official handled a case. I’ve
got my knowledge from the papers,
an’ I’ll say right now, reports
are much more interesting than the
real thing as conducted by you.”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
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Built for Co-operation
We are made for co-operation,
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