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THURSDAY, APRIL 9. The Case of Jenny Brice By MARY ROBERTS RINEHART PROLOGUE. - Was Jennie Brice murdered? If she were murdered, who wo guilty of the foul deed? If she were not done awo with by an assassin, what becani of her? Whence did she disappear? These and a few other intei esting questions are raised a once in this very clever tale o mystery written by a woma> who is not only an adept u writing Jiction of this chara t ter, but the possessor of a styl< that chains the interest by it. clearness and directness am wins by its rich humor. Continued From Yesterday Tie left me. huuvvi-r, at the |»o!i. station "I'd rather not appear In tin Mrs. Pitman." he said apologetically "and 1 think better along my o\v Maes not that 1 have anything again* the police; they’ve done some splendi work. But this case takes lmagln tlon. nnd the police department deni with facts. We have no facts ye. What we need, of course, is to hav the man detained until We are sure o our case.” He lifted his hat and turned away and I went slowly up the steps to th police station Living, ns I had. In ■ neighborhood where the police, like th poor, are always with us, nnd wher. the visits of the patrol wagon are on of those familiar sights that no nmoitt of repetition enabled any of us to trea with contempt. 1 was uncomfortabi until I remembered thut my grand fa ther had been one of the lirst mayor of the city and that, if the patrol hn< been at my house more than once, the entire nelghltorhood would testify thal my boarders were usually orderly. At the door some one touched me ot. the arm. It was Mr. Holcombe again "I have been thinking it over.” hi said, ‘‘and I believe you'd better noi mention the piece of paper that yoi found behind the wnshstnnd. They might say the whole thing is a bonx ' “Very well,” I agreed, and went in The police sergeant in charge knew me at once, having stopped at my house more than once in flood time foi a cup of hot coffee. “Sit down. Mrs. I’ltman.” he said. "I suppose you are still making the besi ■offee and doughnuts in the city of At legheny? Well, what's the trouble in your district? Want an Injunction against the river for trespnss?" “The river has brought me a goo bit of trouble.” I said. “I'm—l'm wot ried, Mr. Sergeant I think a womai from my house hns been murdered, bu I don't know.” "Murdered!" he said, and drew ti| his chair. "Tell me about it.” I told him everything, while he sn back with his eyes half closed and 111 fingers beating a tattoo on the arm o his chair. When I finished he got up and wen into an inner room. He came back ii a moment “I want you to come in and tell thin to the chief," be said, nnd led the way All told. I repeated my story three times that afternoon—to the sergeant to the chief of police and the third time to both the others and two de tectives. The second time the chief made notes of what I said. “Know this man Ladley?" he asked the others. None of them did, but they all knew of Jennie Brice and some of them had seen her in the theater. “Get the theater, Tom." the chief said to one of the detectives. Luckily’ what he learned over the telephone from the theater corrobor ated my story. Jennie Brice was not In the cast that week, but should hnvo reported that morning (Monday) to re fPfs;' t rrri I Told Him Everything. hearse the next week's piece. No mes sage had been received from her and a substitute i p... The chief hung up the receiver an turned to me. “You are sure about Hit flock. Mrs Pitman?" be asked. "It was there when they moved upstairs (o the room?" “Yes. sir." "You are certain you will not find It on the parlor mantel when the water goes down?" "The tnnntels are uncovered now It is not there." "You think Ladley has gone for good?" “Yes. sir." "He'd be a fool to try to run nwn,> unless— Graves, you'd Itetter get Im of the fellow, and keep hint until either the wontnn Is found or the body The river Is falling, in n couple «l days we will know If she is around the premises anywhere.' Before I left 1 described Jennie Brin for them carefully. Asked what sin probably wore. If she had gone nway as her husband said. I had no Idea she had a lot of clothes, and dressed . good bit But 1 recalled that I bai Been lying on the bed the black un white dress with the red collar, tin they took that down, as well as th brown valise. The chief rose and opened the do. for me himself. "If she actually lei town at the time you mention." I. said, "she ought not to be hard t find. There are not many trains b fore 7 in the morning, and most u them are locals." "And—and ts she did not. If he cl you think she is in the house—or-or the cellar?" "Not unless Ladley Is more of a fen than 1 think lie is." he said, smllln. “Personally I believe she hns goi: away, as lie says she did. But if sli hasn’t— He probably took the bod with him when lie said he was gettin medicine and dropped it In the currei somewhere. But we must go slow wit all this. There's no use shouting 'wolf yet.” “But—the towel?" “He may have cut himself shnvlnp It hns been done.” “And the knifer He shrugged Ills shoulders good na turedly. “I’ve seen a perfectly good knlb spoiled o|iening a bottle of pickles." “But the slipper? And the clock?" “My good woman, enough shoes an slippers are forgotten In.flhe bottom of cupboards year after year in t’oo time and are found fionting around tli streets to make all the old clothes me. in town happy. I have seen itlnu everything floating about during one these annual floods." “I dare say you never saw an onyx clock fionting urouud." I replied a liftl sharply. I had no sense of humor that day. He stopped smiling at once am stood tugging at bis mustache. “No." he admitted. "An ouyx doc 1 sinks, that's true. That's a very nb little poiut, that onyx clock. He mu. be trying to sell it or perhaps"— II did not finish. I went back Immediately, only stop ping at the market to get meat for Mi Reynolds' supper. It was after bill past 5, and dusk was coming on. ! got a boat and was rowed direct! home. Peter was not at the foot of tli steps. I paid the boatman and let liin go und turned to go up the stairs Some one was speaking In the hall above. I have rend somewhere that no tW' voices are exactly alike. Just as n< two violins ever produce the satin sound. I think It Is what they cal the timbre that is different. 1 have for instance, never heard a voice like Mr. Pitman's, although Mr. Harrj Lauder's In a phonograph resembl * it And voices hate always done to: me what odors do for some people, re vived forgotten scenes and old mem ories. But the memory that the voice at the head of the stairs brought back was not very old. although I had for gotten it. I seemed to hear again all at ouce the lapping of the water Sun day morning as it began to come In over the doorslll; the sound of Terry ripping up the parlor carpet and Mrs Ladley calling me a she devil in tin next room, In reply to this very voice But when I got to the top of tin stairs It was only Mr. Howell, who had brought his visitor to the flood district, nnd on getting her splasliei with the muddy water hud taken her to my house for a towel and a cake oi soap. I lighted the lamp In the hall and Mr. Howell introduced the girl. Sin was a pretty girl, slim and young, nnd she had taken her wetting good naturedly. “I know we are intruders, Mrs. Pit man,” she said, holding out her hand ■"Especially now. when you are In trouble." ”1 have told Miss Harvey a little." Mr. Howell said, "and I promised to show her Peter, but he Is not here." I think I had known it wus my sis ter's child from the moment I lighted the lamp. There was something of Alma In her. not Alum's hardness or haughtiness, but Alma's dark blue eyes with black lashes, and Alma's nose. Alma was always the beauty of the family. What with the day's ex citement and seeing Alma's child like this. In my house. I felt things going round and clutched at the stair rail Mr. Howell caught me. “Why. Mrs. Pitman!” he said “What's the matter?" I got myself in hand in a moment and smiled at the girl. “Nothing at all," 1 said. “Indigestion most likely. Too much tea the last day or two uml not enough solid food. I've been too anxious to eat" lida -for she wus that to me ut once, although I had never seen her before—Lida wna nil sympathy and sweetness. Sim actually asked me to go with her to a restaurant and have a real dinner. 1 could imagine Alma, had she known! But I excused myself. "I have to cook something for Mr. Reynolds," 1 said, "nud I'm itetter now, anyhow, thank you. Mr. Howell, may 1 speak to you for a moment?” He followed me along the hack hall, which was dusk. "I have remembered something that I had forgotten. Mr. Howell.” I said. “On Sunday morning the Ladleya had a visitor.” “Yes?" "They had very few visitors." "I see.” “I did not see him. but I heard his voice." Mr. Howell did not move, but I fancied lie drew his breath.in quick ly. "It sounded—lt was not by any chance you?" "I? A newspaper man. who goes to bed at 3 a. m. on Sunday morning, up and about at 10!" “I didn’t say what time it was." I said sharply. But at that moment Lida called from the front hall. "I think I hear Peter." she said. “He is shut in somewhere, whining." We went forward at once. She was right. Peter wus scratching nt the door of Mr. Ladley’s room, although 1 bad left the door closed and Peter in the hail. I let him out. and he crawl ed to me on three legs, whimpering. Mr. Howell bent over him and felt the fourth. “Poor little beast!” he said. “His leg is broken." He made a splint for the dog, and with Lida helping they put him to bed In a clothes basket in ray upstairs kitchen. It was easy to see how things lay with Mr. Howell. He was all eyes for her. He made excuses to touch her hand or her arm, little ca ressing touches that made her color heighten. And with it ail thpre wns a sort of hopelessness in his manner, as If he knew how far the girl was out of his reach. Knowing Alma and her pride. I knew better than they how hopeless it was. I was not so sure about Lida. 1 wondered if she was in love with the boy or only in love with love. She was very young, as I had been. GOd help her if. like me. she sacrificed ev erything to discover too late that she was only in love with love. CHAPTER V. M*' \R. REYNOLDS did not come home to dinner at all. The WjjPl water had got into the base nieut at the store, he tele phoned, one of the flood gates in a sewer having leaked, and they were moving some of the departments to an upper floor. 1 had expected to have him in the house that evening, and now I was left alone again. Rut. as it happened. I whs not alone Mr. Graves, one of the city detectives, catue at half past 6 and went carefully over the Ladley*’ room. I showed him the towel and the slipper nnd the bro ken knife and where we hud found the knife blade. He was very noncommit tal and left in a half hour, taking the articles with him in a newspaper. At 7 the doorbell rang. I went down as far us 1 could on the staircase, and I saw a boat outside the door, with the boutmHn and a woman in it. 1 called to them to bring the boat back along the hall, and I had a queer feel ing that it might lie Mrs. Ladley and that I’d been making a fool of myself all day for nothing. But it was not Mrs. Ladley. “Is-this No. 42?” asked the woman, as the bout came back. “Yes.” “Does Mr. I .ad ley live here?” “Yes. But he is not here now.” “Are you Mrs. Pittock?” "Pitman, yes.” The boat bumped aguinst the stairs, and the woman got out. She was as tall as Mrs. Ladley. and when I saw her in the light from the upper hall 1 knew her instantly. It wus Templ6 Hope, the leudlng woman frojp the Liberty theater. "1 would like to talk to you, Mrs. Pitman." she said. “Where can we go?” 1 led the way back to my room, and when she had followed me in she turned and shut the door. “Now, then." she said without any prelL. oury, “where is Jennie Brice?" “I don’t know. Miss Hope," I an swered. We looked at each other for a min ute, and each of us saw what the other suspected. “He has killed her!" she exclaimed “She was afraid he would do it, and be has." "Killed her and thrown her Into the river." 1 said. “That’s what I think, and he'll go free at that. It seems there isn't any murder when there isn’t any corpse." “Nonsense! If he has done that the river will give her up eventually." “The river doesn't always give them up,” I retorted. "Not in flood time, any bow. Or when they are found It is months later, and you can't prove any thing." To Be Continued Tomorrow THE AUGUSTA HERALD. AUGUSTA. 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