Adventure, August 3, 1919 — page 72: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

+ a ie COPA DE eee AR hiding-place to see if I’d settled down, and— Did you hear voices just before I caught you?” “ 'Ves,’”? And then I told her of my interview with Hardridge and tried to make it clear to her that it would be difficult to leave Cragcastle that night without stopping a bullet. I argued the more convincingly because even then, in a nebulous way, the plan I later acted on was forming in my mind. But, to put it through, I must win Miss Maxon’s confidence completely. My exact arguments don’t matter. And, anyway, the personal element figures mainly In matters of this kind. Any one would find it hard to tell me why she should not have stayed in the house. And she ad- mitted, at+last, that no one would be concerned about her whereabouts. She was teaching in San Bernardino, had come north during the few days of vacation and was merely registered at one of the San Francisco hotels. After that she quite readily told me the object of her search in Cragcastle. I'd already divined that it was family jewelry; she centered the search to a single sapphire—a sapphire that had come down in the Maxon family for many generations, always fromyelder son to elder son, until John Maxon, Sr., had broken the chain. He was the younger of two brothers and the favorite with their father. Indeed, be- tween the other son and their parent had come a wide estrangement—the girl gave me to understand that it was through some machination on the part of John Maxon. Anyway, all the family estate had been willed to John Maxon, except only the famous sapphire—and that had disap- peared, And Miss Maxon was sure her uncle, John Maxon, had stolen it and, being un- willing to dispose of it and unable to display it, had kept it hidden all these years. She said he had even boasted of the theft to her father. And she was sure it was still in Crageastle, where he had suddenly and unexpectedly died. Was it? It seemed a fantastic tale but not an incredible one. A great gem and family strife—how related are the two ideas! And I had — considering the proverb, “Like father, like son’’—no reason to think over highly of the petesial an- Rib Adventure > * et nm y co ai ae Eeeamicbookctcom a me ot cat ae tealioge ty shcics. and gloat over his s all forms of wealth, pe rime most easily to this form of vice—as witness history. Truly the love of jewels—but 4 ry wa ee ahs ae a story was very on m desire to helpdier: inks “Please don't think that—that it’s for myself. But my father’s quite ill—has been for years. He's never had—proper care. I don’t make enough as a teacher, and, if we could get the sapphire and sell | it ‘ “I'll get it for you,” I said. “Or I think can.” For her tale of the sapphire had given me the second half of the idea I needed. “Oh! How?” “Not by searching. We might search , a year and never find it. Your uncle had | a good many years to contrive a hiding- , place. But, if it’s in this house, I think “i I can get it. Ill try, anyway.” I wasn’t too sure. But, if my mental laborings had borne true fruit—if I'd judged accurately the character of the suddenly resurrected John Maxon and his motive in having Osborne inveigle me into : impersonating him at Cragcastle—then we ~ had a chance. For, of course, if John Maxon were alive, he was the prin , Osborne only the agent. I thought it quite clear, too, why he should temporarily desire an understudy in the play called life. In short, I simply took for granted the truth of Hardridge’s description of him, thought what such a man would do in stich a case as he had found himself on reading his father’s will— and in such and such another case—and mapped my moves accordingly. Without telling her anything of my plan, I finally got Miss Maxon to retire for the night. Indeed, she was very tired. There were bedrooms in the second story of the house, and I led her to one that had strong shutters over the window and confidence- inspiring bolts. ‘ ; "ob light ty to ae cellar, eet o t and passed ugh t ae = ito front door, Taking ver in my hand, Lopened the door ond dared throu _ Hastily <3 ; | { 4 wf’ Tho - ot twenty — fhe the key in the lo from the door * Pl ve a oo *