The Wingham Advance-Times, 1936-03-26, Page 6*
WINGHAM ADVANCE-TIMESPAGE SIX
WOMAN
REX BEACH
Thursday, March 26 th, 1936“
SECOND INSTALMENT
SYNOPSIS: Amos Ethridge is
found murdered in a country lane with
a crude cross of twigs on his breast
and a scented sheet of note paper in
Jiis pocket. He was the richest man
in the state with power and influence
enough to make himself a candidate
for Governor. With his death came
hints of an unsavory private life, of
wronged women and betrayed hus
bands and fathers who had reason to
wish him dead. There was also a pol
itical organization opposed to him . .
Mary Holmes, called “the goose wo
man” by newspaper reporters, lives
nearest the scene of the crime on a
small chicken farm . . . Gerald Holm
es, her talented young artist son, has
been befriended by the murdered
Ethridge.
The mystery of the murder, by the
. way, still remained unsolved. The
-clues left by the slayer of Amos Eth
ridge were so slender that no progress
had been made in piecing them toge
ther, and, naturally, theories of vari
ous sorts began to be advanced. Sev
eral of the Chicago papers declared
that the cross of twigs on the dead
man’s breast proved it to be a Klan
outrage, and this explanation was gen
erally accepted, for Westland was a
stronghold of the secret order and
Ethridge was a bitter enemy of the
organization. What is more, an im
pressive demonstration had recently
occurred here. There had been a par
ade and a midnight conclave at which
scores of new members had been in
itiated. Special trains had been run
from' distant points, hundreds of au
tomobiles had assembled, thousands
of robed men had gathered in the
light of a tremendous fiery cross on
a hill just outside the city limits.
Out of this occurrence had sprung
a bitter political quarrel, for Amos
Ethridge had boldly proclaimed
through the press that the Governor
was an avowed member and that the
conclave had been planned with his
knowledge and consent. Ethridge had
gone further; he had charged that the
entire machinery of law enforcement
had been betrayed, delivered over to
the Invisible Empire. He had prom
ised to adduce irrefutable evidence,
proof positive, when the time came.
His accusations had met with a tre
mendous popular response, and, as a
matter of fact, it was largely as a re
sult of this outspoken support that
he announced his intention to run for
Governor at the coming election,
pledging himself, if successful, to
wage relentless war upon the hood
ed order and to restore the govern
ment to the people.
Threats against life had followed.
He had received warnings forecast
ing much the same end as had actu
ally overtaken him. His murder upon
the very eve of the campaign con
vinced most people that the charges
voiced by the Chicago newspapers
were indeed sound.
But those charges were not so
readily accepted by the citizens of
Westland. Amos Ethridge had been
a great man locally and during his
lifetime his power had been such that
few of his neighbors dared speak a
word against him, but, now that he
was dead, tongues began to wag.
From various quarters there arose a
hissing of scandal. People voiced op
enly what they had never ventured to
more than whisper—viz., that Eth
ridges’ private life had not been above
reproach, that; there were chapters in
it which would not bear the light of
day, and that the authorities would
have to look further than the secret
order to find his slayer. What about
that “Thursday” note that
found in his pocket? There
than one husband or lover,
more than one father, in
who smarted under a sense of outrage
and who had reason to thank God the
millionaire was dead. Let the police
discover what woman’s fingers had
penned that note, then perhaps the
mystery could be solved. It was even
whispered that out of the solving
there might result a scandal more
painful to the community than its pre
sent sense of loss, and that under the
circumstances
of wisdom to
Such came to
in Westland.
and no arrests were made, certain
citizens began to nod and. to speak
guardedly of “influence.” The out-of-
town correspondents heard these i
whispers and promptly wired them in.
As a result a special prosecutor was
appointed by the state and he came
on to take charge of the investiga
tion.
On Thursday evening, a week after
the crime, Gerald Holmes drove his
new car cut the road towards his mo
ther’s farm. It was early, nevertheless
it was quite dark. As he crossed the
bridge at the Italian settlement he
noticed that his right headlight sud
denly went out, just as it had gone
out a week previously at this precise
point. To-night he did what he had
done on that other occasion; he stop
ped, got out, and went around to the
front of the car to investigate. Gerald
did not pretend to much knowledge
of automobiles, but this coincidence,
it seemed to him, proved precisely
what he had told the dealer; to wit,
there was a' loose electric connection
somewhere and a certain sort of jar
destroyed the contact, dislocated
I something or other. The dealer had
promised to have it fixed but—-well,
this was a sample of his work. Fifie
way to turn out a brand-new car, ev
en a cheap one!
Gerald shook the lamp gently, but
it appeared to be rigidly attached to
its suport and the bulb did not re
light. He was afraid to shake it too
hard, for fear of pulling it off—this
was no rugged, hand-made, foreign
car. Then he fingered aimlessly at the
wire beneath the lamp, but that, too,
was disappointingly secure. He reas
oned that the wire must run in under
the hood of the machine and some
where attach itself to a battery or a
dynamo or a generator or something,
so he stepped back, lifted the bonnet,
and peered inside. He could make out
very little indeed, even with the aid
of a match, and recognized nothing
that could by any possibility be con
sidered a dynamo or an electric light
ing plant, The vital organs of an au
tomobile, it seemed to him, were un
necessarily complicated; he would
have considered many of them utter
ly useless except for the ,fact that
here and there “things” were revolv
ing. He quickly discovered several
wires, any one of which might be the
cause of his trouble, so, striking a
second, then a third match, he ging
erly tested them, He had not gone
far when he uttered a grunt and jerk
ed his hand away, incidentally bump
ing his elbow against something sharp
and hard. Automobiles are full of
painful corners. He dropped the
match and swore, whereupon he
heard subdued laughter and through
the gloom discovered a couple of fig
ures near by.
“Do you fellows know anything
about automobiles?" he inquired.
had been
was more
yes, even
Westland
it might be the part
let sleeping dogs lie.
be the general feeling
As the days crept by
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ROCHESTER-BUFFALO -ERIE
“Is that you, Jerry?” she asked.
AFTER BRITISH CABINET MEETING
Anthony Eden,
Minister, leaving No, 10 Downing St,,
London, after a meeting of the Bri
tish Cabinet just previous to the con*
A
British Foreign ference of the Locarno powers ifi
London on the question of Germany's
rearmament of the lUiineiand,
There came an answer in Italian,
so'he confessed, ruefully: “Well, nei-
ther^do I. I can drive ’em, but I can’t
fix ’em.”
He closed the bonnet, passed back
through the glare of his good head
light, and, stepping into the car,
drove on. It was a relief to note that
the car ran as well with one light
as with two. Some car! This little
buggy might have her faults, but he
loved her, just the same. It was the
first automobile he had ever possess
ed' and his pride of ownership was
inordinate, for it represented a ter
rible extravagance. It was a lovely
shade of blue, too, the particular
shade he adored, and he would have
immensely enjoyed showing to his
mother. That, however, was imposs
ible. He could never make her und
erstand. Involuntarily, he fetched a
deep sigh and shook his head.
Instead of proceeding on past" the
poultry farm and parking his mach
ine in the grove near the entrance
to the Ethridge lane, as he had done
a week previously, he turned in
through a break in the fence before
reaching the farm, and killed his mo
tor under a wide-spreading tree. It
was barely possible that the police
might be watching the scene of the
tragedy, and in any event it was not
a nice place to be on a dark night.
Gerald hated dark colors, dark nights,
dark deeds and the thought of what
had occurred a week ago tonight in
that lane, half a mile ahead, gave him
a sick feeling. He felt jumpy as he
set out across the open pasture land
towards the lights of his mother's cot
tage, and more than once he cast ap
prehensive glances back of him, or
stopped to listen.
Soon the familiar outlines of chick
en houses ami runs appeared, then a
dog barked. It was Jack, the old Air
dale. The dog recognized Gerald’s
voice and greeted him with extrava
gant affection when the young man
dropped down inside the fence. Mrs.
Holmes had heard the disturbance;
she opened the kitchen door and peer
ed. out, inquiring guardedly:
“Is that you, Jerry?”
“Hello, motherl” Gerald entered
and closed the door behind him, then
stopped to kiss the woman's upturned
lips. When his face was within a
hand's breadth of hers he checked the
movement and cried, reproachfully.
“Oh, motherl”
Mrs.
“Very
don’t want to. But for Heaven’s sake |
don’t start in with a temperance lee-1
ture!” There was a moment of sil
ence, then: “Yon don't understand !
what it is to live alone, in a place ‘
like this. You’re never lonesome. You
have people to talk to. You see and
hear things—”
“AH right, mother. I won’t lec
ture. But you know how I feel about
—drinking.” The young man bent his
head and pressed his lips to the wo
man’s cheek.
“When did you get back from Chi
cago ?”
“Today, This afternoon.”
“Have a good trip?"
“Yes. They liked my drawings and
gave me some more work, I got a
new story to illustrate, too. But—I
was all broken up over the murder,
of course! I left here the next morn
ing, you remember? I didn't hear of
it until that afternoon—then just the
bare account. Gee}, It was a shock,
I felt as if I ought to get on the train
and come right back, I wanted to be
here for the funeral, too, but—I didn’t
get my money in time and I didn’t
dare try to borrow from that editor.”
Mrs. Holmes smiled faintly, almost
sneeringly. “The funeral went off all
right without you,"
“You don’t understand how I felt
towards Mr. Ethridge. You never lik
ed him, after what he did for me, but
I did, for he gave me my start; made
it possible for me to have a career.
Not many rich men would interest
themselves in
“In the son
Mrs. Holmes
you read the
they called me?”
Gerald flushed. “Yes. Yes. I read
—everything.”
“The rotters! Well, you're not rag
ged now, are you?” Mrs. Holmes
stared at her son, and in her gaze,
oddly enough, there were both pride
and resentment. As an artist she hat
ed Gerald, as a man she—well, he was
her son, blood of her blood. What
she beheld was a handsome yquth—
a boy of sufficient good looks and
charm of manner to warm any mo
ther’s heart. Gerald’s face was frank
and sunny; it was unusually express
ive too, but curtained with that veil of
conscious repression common to sup
ersensitive people; it was the eager,
dreamy face of an artist, a writer, a
musician. The boy’s faults and his
weaknesses, Mary Holmes well knew,
were tlje faults and the weaknesses
of most dreamers.
She had never dared to analyze
very closely her feelings for this child
of hers—it is doubtful if she would
have succeeded very well had she
tried—for ever since she had nursed
him at her breast he had roused with
in her emotions that violently clash
ed. There were times when he filled
her with a great satisfaction, a sub
lime contentment, then again times
when she hated him fiercely—yes, hat
ed him! There were occasions when
she lavished upon him a sort of sav
age affection—these occasions were
rare, by the way— and again occas
ions when she treated him with a
cruelty that was positively feline.
Nearly always, however, her feelings
were mixed and he excited that dis
tressing
He was
torture,
“Gee!
izc that 1 hadn’t been gone from here
for half an hour—an hour at most—
when it happened,”
“Why, I might have
it!”
"You? Nonsense!
Ethridge drove up in an automobile
and left it standing in that pine grove
, across from the lane. I saw the tracks
, the next morning.” Young Holmes
started: he eyed his mother appre
hensively. “By the way, you must
have met Mr. Ethridge on you way
back to town?”
“N-nol”
“You must have met him. You
couldn't have had time to walk to the
end of the street-car line before he
came along. It didn’t seem to me
you'd been gone ten minutes when I
heard his car pass and then the shots.
Of course, it was longer than that—"
“Have you talked to the police?”
“Certainly! They questioned me the
morning of the murder and. they’ve
been here a couple of times since."
“Did you—tell them about those—
those automobile tracks? I suppose
of course they noticed them?”
Mrs, Holmes nodded. “Sure! You
couldn't miss them—they were as
plain as the nose on your face.”
“Have they formed any suspicions?”
(Continued Next Week)
a ragged, obscure—”
of a ‘goose woman!’ ”
broke in. “Of course,
papers and saw what
warfare within her bosom;
at once her comfort and her
her blessing and her bane.
It gave me a fright to real-
Gerald went on.
been involved in
Whoever killed
1
1
Holmes answered petulantly:
well! Don't kiss the if you
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ABNER COSENS, Agent.
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Dr, W. A, McKibbon, B,A,
PHYSICIAN And SURGEON
Located at the Office of the Late
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Office Phone 54.Nights 107
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How to Beautify Home Surroundings
It is generally accepted that the
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“Frequent the company of your
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Three sailors were spending their
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“Bill,” said the first sailor, “wot’s a
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Bill scratched his head, nonplussed.
“To tell you the truth, shipmates,”-
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