Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 141: what you’re looking at

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

THE BLACK TUBE, He reached his apartment, glanced hur- riedly over a number of reports that had come in and telephoned for his car. He drove straight to Brookmeadow and reached the lower end of the estate just be- fore dark. Instead of driving to the office he ran his car into a field up the lane and started to walk along the road. With the greatest care he traced the tracks of all automobiles that had been along the lane, but he found difficulty, except where a car had turned out of the beaten track, In one or two places he discovered where cars had done so and evidently been left for some little time.'| He made a careful note of the tracks, as to tire tread, and then went back to his car and drove to the office. Deston and Homes were seated on the veranda. They both jumped up as he stopped. “Mrs. Sands is back,” called Deston. ‘“‘ Miss Thurston just telephoned me.” Craton laughed. ‘“ Telephoned you!” he smiled. ‘‘ Why didn’t she come down to see youe”’ : Deston flushed. ‘‘ You are a queer Stick. Oh, I took your advice and walked up that way this afternoon.” ‘Nice walk?” inquired Craton se a far-away look in his eyes. Deston held out his hand. “ You may congratulate me if you want to,” he said, his eyes bright. “T do, heartily,’ declared Craton, grip- ping the younger man’s hand. “And I myself,” nodded Deston, “ and in more ways than one. You certainly have treated me royally when I know per- fectly well there was plenty of reason for suspecting me.” Craton chuckled. ‘‘ Not one single rea- son when you take the facts and shake them all out in the breeze. Those who aren’t guilty are chaff to me, and I winnow them aa Tog ‘“ What have you left for grain?” queried Homes, “Just a minute,” begged Craton and hurried to the telephone. ‘“ Got those check books?” he asked, com- ing back. ‘Mr. Marsh took them,” explained Des- 131 ton, “‘ before the sheriff arrived. He want- ed to get a line on the exact condition of the ready cash in hand and to try and check up the standing of Mr. Sands’s contracts.” “Good,” nodded Craton. “I'll see him and get what little information I want from them. Well, sheriff, want to take a ride?” “Tl go anywhere if you say the word. Getting hot on the trail?” “Can't say. I just phoned my apart- ment and I find Mr. Buckwell is there waiting for me. I’m going to have a talk with him.” “ But there’s Mrs. Sands,” protested Homes. ‘‘ Don’t you want to see her now you are right here?” “Tl not bother her now. She can’t really want to talk with me and I’ve an idea Til learn all she knows from another quar- ter.” ‘ But,” frowned Homes, “ she was right here—so that girl said—right here at the very time the shot was fired.” * Well she’s come back, hasn’t she?” Se Sre.” “ Can’t we figure then that she is inno- cent?” ‘Well, I don’t see how, when we don’t know where she’s been or what she’s got to say for herself.” ‘““ But when she ran away and came back it looks as if she might be innocent.” “ But Sands said: ‘ She shot me, A—’ ” ‘True, and I think he intended to say: ‘She shot me, that actress,” replied Craton. Homes shook his head doubtfully. “Did Mrs. Sands run away?” demanded Deston. : ‘She did. Or at least—this is not to be told—she thought some one else shot her husband and tried to get him to run away. He thought—finding out what had hap- pened here from a telegram—that she had done it and was either willing or persuaded to have her run away. But they both thought better of it and came back.” “{ don’t see how vou get at just what Mrs. Sands and Buckwell thought when you haven’t talked with either of them,” argued Homes. “Then come along with me and we’ll find out just how near I am to being right.” oO GOMIGIOOKSACO