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Thursday, October 15, 1931 McCORMICK MESSENGER, McCORMICK, SOOTH CAROLINA PAGE NUMBER THREE} SightJUnseen MARY ROBERTS RINEHART COPYRIGHT /QJ/ 6y MABY ROBEV' o 23? V— i TT The kitchen is, above all else, a 1 place to prepare and serve food. Oimit it to this use if possible, and arrange for laundering and such work to be done in another place. tXl Cut raw potato will sometimes remove a mud spot from black silks of firm weave. The thin film of starch left when the potato has dried can be brushed off. This treatment leaves a spot on all but black materials. Many ranchmen have discarded the old method of “roping out” calves on the range or in the cor ral, for branding. Instead, they separate the calves from the cows in the corral and drive them into small pens known as “crowding pens.” They throw the calves by hand, the smaller ones being “flanked” and the larger ones be ing “mugged” down. Flanking or mugging is less likely to injure the calves than is roping. THIRD INSTALMENT SYNOPSIS Six people, Horace Johnson (who tells the story), his wife, old Mrs. Dane, Herbert Rob inson and his sister, Alice, and Dr. Spterry, friends and neigh bors, are in the habit of hold ing weekly meetings. At one of them, Mrs. Dane, who is hostess, varies the program by unexpectedly arranging a spir itualistic seance with Miss Jeremy, a friend of Dr. Sperry and not a professional, as the medium. The sitting opens with the customary table rapping and other inconsequential and humorous happenings. Then the medium goes into a trance and gives disjointed details of a murder. After the sitting breaks up and the members go home, Sperry telephones John son and tells him Arthur Wells had killed himself. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY I told him he was right. “Then that fixes the time at which Miss Jdremy told us of the murder/' he came back over the phonef There was sdence at Sperry’s end of the wire. Then: “Wells was shot about 9:30,” he said, and rang off. I am not asnamed to confess that my hands shook as I hung up the receiver. As I stood there, I won dered for the first time whether there might not be, after all, a spirit-w T orld surrounding us, cog nizant of all that we did, touching but intangible, sentient but tuned above our common, senses? I was shocked by the news, but not greatly grieved. The Wellses had been among us but not of us, as I have said. Of the two, I my self had preferred Arthur. His faults were on the surface. He drank hard, gambled, and could not always pay his gambling debts. But underneath it all there had al ways been something boyishly hon est about him. He had played, it is true, through most of the thirty years that now marked his whole life, but he could have been made a man by the right woman. And he had married the wrong one. Of Elinor Wells I have only my wife’s verdict, and, I have found that, as is the way with many good women, her judgment of her own sex is rather merciless. A tall, handsome girl, very dark, my wife has characterized her as cold, calculating and ambitious. She has 5Bia frequently, too, that Elinor Wells was a disappointed woman that her marriage, while giving tier social identity, had disappoint- ;d hei'in a monetary way. There was no doubt, by the time ;hey had lived in our neighborhood tov a year, that a complication had risen in the shape of another man. Our street has never had a scandal on it, except the one when she Berringtons’ music teacher ran iway with their coachman, in the lays of carriages. And I am glad so say that that is almost forgot- ien - .. Nevertheless, we had realized for some time that the dreaded tri- mgle was threatening the repute if our quiet neighborhood, and as [ stood by the telephone that night [ saw it had come. More than that, it seemed very probable that into this very triangle our peaceful Neighborhood Club had been sud- ietily thrust. The street, with its open spaces, tvas a relief after the dark hall. I started for Sperry’s house, my head aent against the wind, my mind on the news I had just heard. Sperry was waiting on his door step, and we went on to the Wells iiouse. Althoueh the Wells house was brilliantly lighted when we reached t. we had difficulty in gaining ad mission. “We might try the servants’ en trance,” Snerrv ^aid. Then he .auehed mirthlessly. “■\,Ve might see,” he said, “if tbdre's a key on the nail among the /ines.” I confess to a nervous tizhten- ng of my mv'cl-'s as wc m^de our vav around the house. If the key vas there, we were on the track of \ revelation that might revolution- ze much that we had held funda mental in science and in pur cnowledge of life itself. If sitting H Mrs. Dane’s quiet room, a wo- •na-’-i could tell us what was hap- Dening in a house a mile or so away t opened up a new earth. Almost i new heaven. I* stopped and touched Soerrv’s inn. “This Miss Jeremy—did she enow Arthur Wells or Elinor? If he knew the house, and the situa- ;ion between them, isn’t it barely possible that she anticipated this :hing?” “We knew them,” he said gruf- :y, “whatever we anticipated, it vasn’t this.” Sperry had a pocket flash, and vhen we found the door locked we iroceeded with our search for the sey. “Here’s the key,” Sperry said, and Wd it out. The flash wavered in lis hand, and his voice was strain- -d- We admitted ourselves. “Look here. Sperry,” I said, as ve stood inside the door, “they lon’t want me here. They’ve sent or you, but I’m the most casual ;ort of an acquaintance. I haven’t iny business here.” That struck him, too. We had >oth been so obsessed with the icene at Mrs. Dane’s that we had lot thought of anything else. “Suppose you sit down in the ibrary.” he said. “The chances ire against her coming down and the servants don’t matter.” As a matter of fact, we learned later that all the servants were out except the nursery governess. There were two small children. There was a servants’ ball some where, and, with the exception of the butler, it was after two before they commenced to straggle in. ex cept two-plain-clothes men from the central office, a physician who was with Elinor in her room, and the governess, there was no one eise m the house but the children, asleep in the nursery. As I sat alone in the library, the house was perfectly silent. But in some strange fashion it had appar ently taken on the attributes ot the deed that had preceded the silence. It was smister, mysterious, dark. Overwrought as I was, I was forc ed to bring my common sense to bear on the situation. Here was a tragedy, a real and terrible one. Suppose we had in some queer fashion, touched its outer edges that night? Then how was it that there had come, mixed up with so much that might be pertinent, such extraneous and grotesque things as a hurt knee, and throw ing w a tones ana pens aoout . I remember moving impatiently, and trying to argue myself into my ordinary logical state of mind, but I know now that even then I was wondering whether Sperry had found a hole in the ceiling upstairs. Suppose Sperry came down and said Arthur Wells had been shot above the ear, and that there was a second bullet hole in the ceiling? Added to the key on the nail, a careless c,ustom and surely not common, we would have conclu sive proof that our medium had been correct. There was another point, too. Miss Jeremy had said, “Get the lather off his face.” That brought me up with a turn. pet. It was a dark Oriental, with much red in it. I touched the place, and then ran my folded handkerchief over it. It came up stained with blood. “There would be no object in using cold water there, £o as not to set the stain.” Sperry said thoughtfully. “Whether he fell there or not, that is where she al lowed him to be found.” “You don’t think he fell there?” “She dragged him, didn’t she?” he demanded. Then the strange ness of what he was saying fyruck him, and he smiled foolishly. “What I mean is, the medium said she did. I don’t suppose any jury would pass us .tonight as entirely sane, Horace,” he said. He walked across to the bath room and surveyed it from the doorway. I followed him. It was as orderly as the other room. On a glass shelf over the wash-stand were his razors, a safety and, be side it, in a black case, an assorc- ment of the long-bladed variety, one for each day of the week, and so marked. Sperry stood thoughtfully in the doorway. “The servants are out,” he said. “According to Elinor’s statement he was dressing when he did it.” “And yet some one has had a wild impulse for tidiness here, since it happened. Not a towel out of place!” It was in the bathroom that he told me Elinor’s story. According to her, it was a simple case of suicide. And she was honest about it, in her own wav. She was shock ed. but she was n\t pretending any wild grief. She hadn’t wanted him to die, but she had not felt that they could go on much longer to gether. There had been no quar rel other than their usual bicker ing. They had been going to a m *.:v U r “It was 9:39 when Miss Jeremy told us Wells was shot,’ Sperry reminded me. Would a man stop shaving to kill himself? If he did, why a revolv er? Why not the razor in his hand? I knew from my law experience that suicide is either a desperate impulse or a cold-blooded and cal culated finality. A man who kills himself while dressing comes under the form of classification, and will usually seize the first method at hand. But there was something else, too. Shaving is an automatic process. It completes itself. My wife nas an irritated conviction that if the house caught fire while I was in the midst of the process, I would complete it and rub the soap from my face before I caught up the fire-extinguisher. Had he killed himself, or had Elinor killed him? Was she the sort to sacrifice herself to a violent impulse? Would she choose the hard way, when there was the easy one of the divorce court? I thought not. And the same was true of Ellingham. Here were two people both of them careful of appear ance, if not of fact. There was another possibility, too. That he had learned something while he was dressing, had attacked or threatened her with a razor, and she had killed him in self-defense. I had reached that point when Sperry came down the staircase ushering out the detective and the medical man. He came to the library door and stood looking at me, with his face rather paler than usual. “I’ll take you up now,” he said. “She’s in her room, in bed, and she has had an opiate.” “Was he shot above the ear?” “Yes.” I did not look at him, nor he at me. We climbed the stairs and en tered the room, where, according to Elinor’s story, Arthur Wells had killed himself. It was a dressing- room, as Miss Jeremy had describ ed. A wardrobe, a table with books and magazines in disorder, two chairs, and a couch, constituted the furnishings. Bevond was a bath room. On a chair by a window the dead Tnan’s evening clothes were neatlv laid out, his shoes be neath. His top hat and folded gloves were on the table. Wells lay on the couch. The house was absolutely still. When I glanced at Sperry he was staring at the ceiling, and I followed his eyes, but there was no mark on it. Sperry made a little gesture. “The detective and I put him there. He was here.” He showed a place on the floor midway of the room. “Where was his head lying?” I asked, cautiously. “Here.” I stooped and examined the car- dance that night. The servants had all gone out immediately after dinner to a servants’ ball and the governess had gone for a walk. She was to return at nine-thirty to fasten Elinor’s gown and to be with the children. Arthur, she said, had been de pressed for several days, and at dinner had hardly spoken at all. He had not, however, objected to the dance. He had, indeed, seem ed strangely determined to go, al though she had pleaded a head ache. At nine o’clock he went up stairs, apparently to dress. She was in her room, with the door shut, when she heard a shot. She ran in and found him lying on the flqpr of his dressing-room with his revolver behind him. The governess was still out. The shot had roused the children, and they had come down from the nursery above. She was frantic, but she had to soothe them. The gover ness, however, came in almost immediately, and she had sent her to the telephone to summon help, calling Sperry first of all, and then the police. “Have you seen the revolver?” I asked. “Yes. It’s all right, apoarently. Only one shot had been fired.” “How soon did they get a doc tor?” “It must have been some time. They gave up telephoning, and the governess went out, finally, and found one.” “Then, while she was out ?” “Possibly,” Sperry said. “If we start with the hypothesis that she was lying.” “If she cleaned up here for any reason,” I began, and commenced a desultory examination of the room. Just why I looked behind the bathtub fordes me to an ex planation I am somewhat loath to make, but which will explain a rather unusual proceeding. For some time my wife has felt that I smoked heavily, and out of her solicitude for me has limited me to one cigar after dinner. But as I have been a heavy smoker for years I have found this a great hard ship, and have therefore, kept a reserve store, by arrangement with the housemaid, behind mv tub. In self-defense I must also state that I seldom have recourse to such stealthv measures. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Hunters and sportsmen have been killing from 12 to 15 million ducks a year. 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