Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

THE BLACK “TUBE. = Gare was answered by Central ihe instant he remoyed the receiver. : “ Jerry?” he asked, as he got his num- ber. “I’m at Willet Sands’s estate, Brookmeadow. Better get right out and bring two men with you. You know the way? Good.” : | He hung up and drew a deep breath into his lungs. His brows clouded. Then he cast a quick glance about the floor, picked up a pencil and the top of what appeared a fountain pen, and scraped up a small quantity of wax which lay in a tiny Spot. on the floor under the table. An examination of the walls of the booth resulted in his finding a single hair caught on a sliver close to the door; not over three feet from the floor. Stepping out into the room, his eyes sought the telephone wires which ran from the booth to the desk extension in the li- brary. Standing on a chair, he discovered, back of the picture molding, where they had been cut and removed for a distance of four feet. CHAPTER IV. THROUGH THE HOUSE. ROM the library Craton passed through the side hall and into the dinmg room. This room was long and wide with a high wainscoting done in: dull white against which the richness of the mahogany highboy, the old fashioned straight backed chairs and the round table stood out with rich distinction. ‘In all details the house was furnished as one might expect to find a home rather than a building used as an office, which was virtually the sole use made of the old ram- bling house. Ten minutes in the rear of the house, a quick trip around the veranda, and Craton passed through the library into the hall. Marsh stepped from the room on the right, closing the door behind him. “ T’ve been upstairs. Sands is still alive. Miss Thurston is in the room right over the library. She is pretty well broken up, but J didn’t suggest her going, thinking you might want to talk with her. Be — ABT “T will in a little while. IT Want to get Deston’s story first.” “ He’s in here *—nodding behind him, “T’ve been talking with him, and he ap- pears quite frank, but he’s nervous-and— well, judge for yourself. zs There was that in Marsh’s tone and manner more than his words which caused Craton’s brow to lift. “I want to go over the house, the upper part. Let Deston come with me. He might as well show me about. There seems to be no servants around, save the chauffeurs out- side.” 3 “ There is only one servant, a fellow by. the name of Akron,” explained Marsh, as he opened the door at his back and spoke to Deston. “He’s in the kitchen, I suppose?” sug- gested Craton. “Akron? He’s out,” corrected Deston. “He had a telephone call saying his moth- er was quite ill.” _“Doesn’t have much toe do, I fancy,” mused Craton. “Not a great deal. Cooks my meals— I live here, you know—and looks after the inside of the house. Once in a while Mr. Sands has business friends here for !unch- €on or dinner.” “ And this man Akron is the only ser- vant?” “The only one ce a gardener who takes care of the’ grounds. He lives in a cottage up the road to the left, and comes down in the morning.” Craton nodded. “ I want to glance over the house to get a general idea of the plan in my head. Perhaps you'll lead the way, Mr. Deston.” Marsh went back into the room on the jl right, used by Deston as his office, while _ the two passed into the library. “Queer about that revolver,” mused Craton, pausing at the mantel. “Tf he _ did shoot himself it is certainly odd; doesn’t look like a man’s weapon, a big, domineer- ing man like Sands.” His glance was apparently upon the pis- tol, but his eyes—which had a faculty of — seeing what they were not looking at— caught the change in expression on Des- - ton’s face. a Somic bok icon.