Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutZurich Herald, 1932-08-25, Page 2Murder at Bridge By ANNA' AUSTIN, SYNOPSIS. Juanita Selim is tnurdered during a bridge party. Dundee, special investi- gator, believes she has been shot ..y one of her guests. Penny Crain, Daren Marshall and Carolyn Drake vere plat- ing bridge. Lois Dunlap and ''reetty 1 'les were in the dining room. Judge Marshall came in soon utter the begin- ning of the hand. John Drake came in just before the end of the hand. Dexter Sprague and Janet Raymond came in together at the end of the hand and went into the dining room. Poliy 13ea1e and her fiance, Clive Ham- mond, were in the solarium. Flora Miles' bridge tally is missing. After learning that no one was seen out- side, Dundee sends the guests to the living room, and tells Captain Strawn his findings. Suddenly he exclaims, and throws open the door oP Nita's closet. CHAPTER XI. Almost immediately Special Investi- gator Dundee rose from his crouch- ing position on the floor of Nita SeI- in 's closet, and faced the chief of the homicide squad of Hamilton's police force. "I think," he said quietly, for all the excitement that burned in his blue eyes, "that weld better have Mrs. Miles in for a few questions." "What have you got there—a dance program?" Strewn :stied curiously, but as Dundee continued to stare sil- ently at the thing he held, the older man strode to the door and relayed the order to a plainclothes detective. "I sent for Mrs. Miles," Dundee said coldly, when husband and wife appeared together, Flora's thin, tense shoulders encircled protestingly by Iraeey's plump arm. "If you're going to badger my wife further, I intend to be present, sir,' Miles retorted, thrust'ng out his chest. "Very well!" Dundee conceded curt- ly. "Mrs. Miles, why didn't you tell ene in the first place that you were in this room when Nita Selim was shot?" "Because I wasn't—in—in the room," Flora protested, clinging with both thin, big -veined hands to her husband's arm. "Sir, you have no hoof of this ab- surd accusation, and I shall personally take this matter up—" "I have the best of proof," Dundee said quietly, and took his hand from his pocket. "You recognize this, Mrs. Miles? ... Y'ou• admit that it is the tally card you used while playing bridge"`tkis afternoon?" "No, no! It isn't mine!" Flora cried hysterically, cringing against her hus- band, who began to protest in a voice falsetto with rage. Dundee ignored his splutterings. ' Inlay I point out that it is identical with the other tally cards used at Mrs. Selim's party today, and that on its face it bears your name, `Flora'?" and he politely extended the card for her inspection. "I—yes, it must be mine, but I was not in this room when Nita was —was shot!" "But you will admit that you were, i her clothes .loset at some time during the nine or ten minutes that elapsed between your leaving the bridge game, when you became dum- my, and the moment when Daren Marshall screamed?" As Flora Miles said nothing, star- ing at him with great, terrified black eyes, Dundee wen'L on relentlessly: "Mrs. Miles, when yon left the bridge an economical, healthful f od $ich in vitamins . « . Energy- produeing « Att economical ,source of highest quality protein .. fully matured .. « Draft cheese is a healthful, body- building food. Servo it with every meal. Ye e lb: packages or anted from. 'the famous S lb, loaf. Look for the Mune "!Craft" ad the only positive identification of the genuine. Made in, Canada genie, you did not intend to telephone your house. Yor came here—into this rt .,m!—and you Iay in wait, hiding in her closet until Nita Selim appeared, as you knew she would, sooner or later—" "No, no! That's a Iie—a lie, I tell you!" the woman shrilled at him. "I did telephone my house, and I talked b Junior, when the maid put him up to the phone.... You can ask her yourself, if you don't believe :ne!" "But after you telephoned, you stole into this room—" "No, no! I—I made up my fa -Frill fresh, just as Ltold you—" Dundee did not bother to tell her how well he knew she was lying, fnr suddenly something knocked on the door of his mind. He strode to the closet, searched for a moment among the multitude of garments hanging there, then emerged with the brown silk summer coat which Nita Selim had worn to Breakaway Inn that noon. Before the terrified woman's eyes he thrust a hand, first into one deep pocket and then another, finding nothing except a handkerchief of fine'. embroidered linen and a pair of brown suede gauntlet gloves. "Will you let rae have the note, please, Mrs. Miles? The note Nita received during her luncheon party, and which she thrust, before your eyes, into a pocket of this coat? . . is in your hand bag, I am sure, since you have had no opportunity, unobserved, to destroy it." "What ghastly nonsense is this, Dundee?" Tracey Miles demanded furiously. Btt Dundee again ignored him. His implacable eyes held Flora Miles' until the woman broke suddenly, pit- eously. She fumbled in the raffia bag which had been hanging from her arra. "What does it all mean?" Tracey Miles collapsed like a pricked balloon, became almost as wrinkled and ab- surd, as he saw the corner or a blue - gray envelope slowly emerging from his.wife's hand bag. "That's my sta- tionery—one of my business envei- opes—" Flora Miles dropped the bag„ which she need no longer watch and clutch with terror, as she dug her thin fin- gers into her husband's shoulders. "Forgive nee, darling! Oh, I knew God would punish me for being jeal- ous! I thought you were writing love letters to—to that woman—" Dundee did not miss the slightest significance of that scene as he re- trieved the hand bag and drew out the blue -gray envelope. It was inscribed, in a curious handwriting: "Mrs. Se- lim, Private Dining Room, Breakaway Ian" "Let's see, boy," Strewn said, with respect in his harsh voice. Dundee withdrew the single sheet of business stationery, and obliging- ly held it so that the chief of detec- tives could read it also. "Nits., my sweet," the note began, without date line, "Forgive your bad boy for last night's row, but I must warn you again to watch your step. You've already gone too far. Of Bourse I love you and understand, but— Be good, Baby, and you won't be sorry." The note was signed "Dexy." Dundee tapped the note for a long minute, while Tracey Miles continued to console his wife. A new avenue, he thought—perhaps, a long, long aver ue... "Mrs. Miles" be began abruptly, and the tear -streaked face turned to- ward him. "You say you thought this letter to Mrs. Selim had been written by your husband?" "Yes," she gasped. "I'm jealoua- natured. I admit it, and when I saw one of your own—I mean, one of Tra- cey's business envelopes—" "You made up your hind to steal it and read it?" 'Yes I did! A wife has a right to know what her husband's doing if it's anything—like that—" Iyer haggard black eyes again implored her hus- band for forgiveness, before she went on: "I did slip into Nita's room, and go into her closet to see if she hail left the letter in her coat pocket. I closed the door on myself, thinking I could find the light cord, but it was caught in one of the dresses or some- thing, and it took nhe a long time to find it in the dark of the closet, but I did find it at last, and was just read- ing the note--" "You read it, even after you saw that the handwriting on the envelope wasn't your husband's?" Duihdee quer- ied in assumed amazement. Flora's thin body sagged. "I --I thought maybe Tracey had disguised his handwriting.. , So I read it, and saw it was from Dexter—" "Mr. Miles, do you know how some of your business stationery got into Sprague% hands?" "He had plenty of opportunity to filch stationery or almost anything he wants, hanging around my offices, as he does—an idler,-" But Dundee was in a hurry. He' wheeled from the garrulity of the husband to the tense terror of the wife. "Mrs, Miles, I want you to tell me exactly what you know, unless you prefer to consult a lawyer first -.--"- "Sir, if you are insinuating that my wife—" "Oh, let me tell him, Tracey," Mrs. Miles capitulated suddenly, complete- ly. "I was in the closet when Nita was killed, I suppose, but I' didn't know she was being killed! Because I was lying in there on the closet floor in a dead faint!" Du.hdee stared at the woman in- credulotsly, then suppressed a ' groan of almost unbearable disappointment. If Flora Miles was telling the truth, here went a -flying his only eye .wit- ness, probably, or rather, his only ear witness. "Just when did you faint, Mrs. Mies?" he asked, struggling for pa- tience. "Before or after Nita came into this room?" "I was just finishing the note, with the light on in the closet, and the door shut, when I heard Nita come into the room. I knew it was Nita 'because she was singing one of those Broad- way songs she is—was—so crazy about. I jerked off the light, and crouched way back in a corner of the closet. A velvet evening wrap fen down over my head, and I was nearly smothering, but I was afraid to try to dislodge it for fear r hanger would fall to the floor and make an awful clatter. And then—and then—" She shuddered, and clung to her husband. "What caused you to faint, Mrs. Miles?" "Sir, my wife has heart trouble—" 'What did you hear, Mrs. Miles?" Dundee persisted. "I couldn't hear very well,, all t..ngled up in the coat:, and 'way back in the closet, but I did hear a kind of bang or bump—no, no! not a pistol shot!—and because it came from so nme I thought it was Nita. or Lydia coming to get something out of the closet, and I'd be discovered, so I —I fainted—" She drew a deep breath and went on: "When I came to I heard Karen screaming, and then people running in— But all the time that awful tune was going on and on—" "Tune?" Dundee gasped. "Do you mean—Nita Selim's—song?" To be continued.) 1 Shall Go With the Plover I have been talking with the plover, The snowy plover, Running in and out with the joyous tide Or flying low over The white spindrift of jade=tinted. water. Cold mistral blowing In from 'a brilliant hate' strums Tarantellas knowing Enchantment of dim aqueohs 'beauty In realms far under The sea. And the rain bird, the plover Tells me the wonder. We have been talking of his mate nesting Among the rushes In a marsh filled with pale honey glints And shadowy hushes. I must have come here unlike other people For in a still hour I was found on a bank of cloudy white Parsley in flower Near a marsh where the rain bird and his mate Flew gacefully over; I have talked with them always and some day • I shall go with the plover. —Annice Calland, in the University of California Chronicle, OH! The new proprietor of the village store was Isaac Isaac. Business was not good, and, Isaac stood at the door one morning gazing gloomily at the all but empty street. '. A little girl who had just turned the -Corner paused uncertainly before him, a crumpled pound note In one hand.Instantly Isaac was all smiles. "I say," began the little girl, "does my mammy owe you a pound?" "She does," said Isaac. "And and whose little girl are you?" Thousands of MOTH ERS ARE GRATEFUL. eeeeeemasesseso " - I wish I had known about this when I raised my first baby," so many mothers tell us. Fretful, crying babies make mothers grow old. Our new Baby 'Welfare book tells how to keep your baby laughing and well --a joy rather than a care. Write today and it will be mailed to you free. The Hordes Go. Limited, 115 George 8t., l'oronto, oat. Gentlemen: "Please send mo freo ,copy o[ booklet entitled ":Baby welfare." Address am, 1 to The Difficult Art Of Taking a W elk By Franz Kessel, in Die Literariscbe Welt, Berlin. Walking, this most ancient of all l forms of locomotion, should be a pure [pleasure, divested of any practical pur- pose, in our epoch, which abounds in means of transportation. Vehicles of all kinds, private and public, small and large, fast and slow, take care of all our practical needs. For the sake of health the dweller of the city, where he can neither row of sail nor ski, practiees so-called Footing. This, however, has nothing to do with tak- ing walks. Footing is really an exer- cise, and those who indulge in it are kept so busy with executing the cor- rect movements and breathing regu- larly that they have no time to look to right or left. Neither utilitarian nor hygienic pur- poses should be connected with a walk. It should be taken for its own sake, and should be more than any- thing else a relaxation, with the ecstasy of childhood in our gait, and that light elasticity that is called equipoise. In these hard times we especially recommend the pleasure of taking walks to all who are light on their legs. It is the cheapest enjoyment, not a specific capitalist pastime. It is a treasure of the poor, almost a pri- vilege of theirs. If you say you have no time for taking walks, we would reply: get out of bus, or street car, or tube a little before you reach your destination and walk the remainder of the way. It happens so often that we arrive at our destination too early and have to waste our precious time in stuffy offices and waiting rooms, with impatient and hurried newspaper read- ing. Now and then take such a brief weekday holiday, make a festive oc- casion of it, and take a leisurely stroll. And dont' tell me that strolling is con-, trary to the rhythm of our times, for only those who know how to do it know how to appreciate and under- stand the rhythm of our times correct- ly. In each of us lives a hidden idler, who craves to forget troubles and business worries for a while and to do things which have no definite purpose. If you take a walk in this spirit the street, used for once for a purpose other than utilitarian, will show itself very friendly towards you. It will be- come a day dream, turning window shows into landscapes, and signboards into mythologic figures. There is no newspaper more fascinating than luminous advertising. Its disappear- ance at regular intervals is a visible symbol of the perishableness of all things. It is necessary that our mind become again and again impressed with this truth, so that the pleasure we are enjoying may acquire greater importance. There is no need to search for the unknown. Visit your own city, stroll through the stone maze, through which profession, habit and duty lead you every day. As you walk through the familiar streets, go through the experience of their strange lives. Ob- serve how they live, how they become in turn quieter or more lively with traffic, how they are alternately more exclusive or poor. Live with the street when it gets sleepy or feverish with traffic. Learn the history of doorsteps which seem to grow more and more quiet, because fewer and fewer feet tread upon them. Live with them in their past, but at the same time watch that which is in formation, fences, scaffoldings, new construc- tions which speak to you of the future, while old houses and things gradually withdraw into the background. Think of the life story of shops and eating places, and learn the law, even though it may sound like a supersti- tion, of places to which i11 fate seems attached, of places whose owners and merchandise change perpetually for no apparent reason. Observe them be- fore they are threatened with a new collapse, how they display a feverish haste in outdoing one another with sales and attractive prices and shows. Window' shows and bilis of fare dis- played in windows and on doors tell a tale of success or failure, without your having to go inside, This is another great privilege of the stroller. He does not have to enter places and start conversations, for he can read the story of a street as he reads al book, and the fate of a shop as he looks at its windows. The faces of strangers who pass by tell him even more. Tlieincomparable charm of such leisurely and observant walking lies in its power to get our minds off our ,more or less tolerable private lives, because it establishes a communion between ourselves and the lives and fates of other people. Taking a walls does not call for com- pany, as the promenading of yore. It is not easy to And good company for a walk, Children are very bad com- panions on a walk, because the street is to them a place to play. There is no regularity in their walking; either they delay or run. Painters and writers are disturbing company, be- cause they invariably attempt to in- terpret and explain everything accord- ing to their own artistic ideas, and to put their own meaning into things, 'in- stead of absorbing the plcture without personal desires. Musicians are better company. Women aro sometimes- ex- cellent company for a stroll, especial- ly if they are busy shopping. They are then so absorbed by their business that they leave their male companions Lowest Price in 15 Years "Fresh from the Gardens" in peace to enjoy the happiness of a purely contemplative existence, However, he who knows how to take a walk will always prefer to be by himself. But he must beware of de- generating into a gloomy novel hero who attempts to discover the image of his own life and frustrated hopes in everything he sees. To be happy when taking a walk, a man must forget him- self. The real stroller is like a reader who reads a book for his own per- sonal enjoyment. Such people become even rarer, as most readers have the ambition to pass judgment on what they read. If you know how to consider a street as a book, read it, but don't criticize, and don't be hasty in your judgments on things ugly or beautiful.' For these two conceptions are really only rela- tive. Let yourself be deceived and tempted by illumination, by the hour of the day and the rhythm of your own steps. Artificial light, especially when it still struggles against a rest of day- light, is flattering and fascinating, a magician which makes things appear beautiful, evokes new images and changes old ones, as it comes and goes. Artificial light is very useful in places where perverseness of taste has created hideous architecture. And the scaffolding of luminous advertising is often a blessing, for it makes mon- strosities disappear momentarily. However, even ugliness may acquire charm and a certain beauty when we look at it in a friendly spirit. This Is something the aesthetician never sus- pects, but it is an open secret to the artist of walking. The slight fatigue which befalls peo- ple who are always on the road but never in a hurry is a blissful sensa- tion. It is really a wonderful experi- ence, for our senses then begin to evoke memories of long -forgotten times. Strange streets through which we happened to pass years ago be- come fused into one with the familiar thoroughfares through which we stroll, and through the stratum of the present pierce glimpses of the past. But do not let us take you into the realm of the unconscious. To break the spell, we would recommend never to set out on a walk without some goal. There is an amateurishness in haphazard walking which easily be- comes dangerous. Always go on a walk with the intention of arriving somewhere, and if you go off your road, it will probably be a pleasant experience. For every deviation pre- supposes a right way. If you wish. to look at a particular thing don't rusk towards it, for it will run away from you. Give it a chance to get used to the sight of you. There is a way of establishing a face-to-face with inanimate things. To look with benevolence upon a thing or a street is not enough. Give it the time to make friends with you. All this refers to walking within the city Iimits, not to that peculiar world of transition which are the suburbs and immediate surroundings of every town. "What's that you're putting in your pocket?" asked Murphy, "Dynamite," whispered Donovan, "I'm waiting for Casey. Every time he meets me he slaps me on. the chest and breaks my pipe. Next time he does it he'll blow lifs hand off." Success It was this• summer that I first met Sir George White, the hero of as pretty and graceful a little tale as any I ever conceived and set down. So it shall be set down here. He was then Captain George White, of the Ninety -Second! about eight or nine and thirty, as far as I could judge. He was a disappointed but not a disgrunted man. He would sit on the sofa in our drawing -room and discourse for hours on how im- pssiblo it was for him to hope for anything in his career. There was no chance of his getting his majority before forty. Iie was sending in his papers and must turn to something else. I used to do Mark Tapley and assure him, which was to my mind true, that nature had not intended him for a soldier. He was much more the' scientific, the philosophical, build. But he was obstinate. His; chance had gone. "Wait till the last moment at any rate," were my words when he came to say good- bye on bis way plainwords. . . "Something may `turn up," "My papers are on their way," was his; reply. I did not see him or hear •from him for ten years. Then I met him at a ball in full uniform. I went up to him and put my finger on the gold oak -leaves that adorned collar and cuffs; for by that time he was Military Secretary to the Viceroy. The Afghan War had broken out; he had recalled his papers; he had done well exceedingly. "Don't be rude," he said laugh- ingly; and we recounted old times. I did not see him again for more than another ten years; not till after I bad written "On the Face of the Waters." Then, at a big ball, I saw a brilliant figure crossing the polished floor -with outstretched hands, followed by a somewhat! startled -looking aide-de-camp. It was Sir George White, Commander -1 in -Chief, ablaze with decoehtinx se "You've ,done It too," he.,said his own merry smile; and , on again we recountered old times, And what is more, when, dining; with him next evening, an. extra guest on a gala night, I went to say good -night, he offered me his arm, eloaked me in the cloak -room de- spite his aide's protestations, and saw me to my carriage and shut the door, sayill ;-- "TilI next time!"—Flora Annie Steel, in "The Garden of Fidelity." Kate—"Would you leave your home for me?" Frank -"I would leave the game in the ninth innbig with the score a tie." Artist: "Shall I paint you frock -coat?" Mr. Newrich: don't make any fuss—just wear overalls." • in a "Ole your Packed full of tender, plump, uncrushed Sultanas, retaining the fine flavor of the fresh fruit. Just as wholesome as they are delicious.