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The Blyth Standard, 1930-05-01, Page 6The quality of Salada is the only premium offered PP "SEA 'Fresh from the gardens' The Stcp on the Stairs By ISABEL OSTRANDER CHAPTER X.—(Cont'd). "Wo ar not criminal lawyers!" the other stiffened. "My father is a para- lytic, chained to his wheel chair. What can we knew of any crime, espe- cially one conunated in New York?" "Because his memory doubtless reach:ns back, let us say, fourteen - years. Have yo, heard of the recent urder of the celebrated portrait painter, Mrs. Vane? Does 'Vane' sug- gest a substitute Inc that of your father's late partner, Veniner?' The young attorney gasped and seized the edge of his desk. "Heavens! You don't neon, that creature who ran off with Vetner's that the latter was a eomparati e stranger here, and we thought you might be able to tell us where she came from and who her people were A. faint flush had come into the withered cheeks and Barry could see that he was shaking excitedly. "Irene Verner'," Barry prompted quietly. "Her maiden name was Irene Barrows and she was visiting a school friend here—" "Ada Johnson," the quavering voice supplemented. "I suppose she took pity on Irene. Irene carte from Wheatfield, and 1 guess her guardian sent her to finishing school as a last resort to get her in with rich folks and marry her off. Anyway, Ada Johnson brought the girl hone and the trouble started." "Do you know anything about this guardian of Irene Barrows', sir?" the detective asked. "Did cu ever meet him?" "Yes, he came on for the wedding, but somehow I can't recall his name. I remember the man himself, though, because I've met so many of his type; hard -listed, hypocritical president of a small country bank. He died soon after, I understand," "Please, Mr, Scull; , it is tine for your drops now," A nurse approached the invalid. "If the gentleman will excuse you, I'm sure you have talked enough." The invalid teak the medicine and roused himself to peer at the small car chugging up the driveway. "Who's conning?" "1t is Mrs. Tyrrell," the nurse re- plied and turned to nne4t the stout lady woo had descended from the runabout and was crossing the lawn toward them Ada on one of her duty calls!" the old man grumbled. "She may be able to give you more information than 1, however, for sloe was the girl I told you about who brought Irene to Cleve- land in the first pines." Barry ro.ie and the old man cackled as he extended lois hand, "My dear Ada," he responded, "You were never more welcoin© than at this moment!" coni 1 was only a schoolboy at the time, but I remember the scandal. ']omg Mrs, Verner horse]; died soon afterward." "It is odd under the circumstances tl at Matt Venne•'s wife's family didn't come forwa"d and claim her body when she died insane from the mental suffering she had e_dured at his hands," Barry remarked, "Who was she? Where did she come front? "Iler maiden name was Barrows, Irene Barrows, hut I never heard that site had any living relatives; that is, none of them came forward during any phrase of the tragic affair," Phil- lip added. "1 rennenre:r hearing that she was 110 orphan, a school friend of one of the debutantes of that time and that the marriage wasn't a par- ticularly advantageous ono according to the senior Venner, from the stand- point of either money or social posi- tion." "We have learned diet she was a stranger in Clevelana but not where she came frons," Barr, repeated. "Can you tell me? Perhaps your father can. help ate." Barry rose. "I doubt it, But I will take you to hint." In 'Phillip's roadster they soon reached the fashionable suburbs. On n terrace stood a wheel chair in which reclined a solitary • figure wrapped to the chin in steamer rugs, Phillip began: "I same to bri:ig a friend out to see you, a—a prospective client, Mr, Barry, This is my father." "Glad to see you, Mr. Barry; glad the old man isn't altogether forgotten et the office, Phillip, run along." Phillip shot a warning glance at the detective and departed, "Now fire away, Mr. Barry I pre- sume you have your proper creden- tials?" "Social?" Sergeant Barry's tone was innocent. "Professional, sir! My son is a fool, Lut 've handled enough criminal cases in my time to know a detective when I see one, and your visit isn't altogether a surprise, Miss Haskins, my nurse, wouldn't read the latest mews of the Vane case to me. I made her do so yesterday before she real- ized what she had strayed into, and when I learned that 11,at old clerk of ours, Griswold, was mixed up in it, I rather expected that the old scandal would be raked up again." Barry laughed wit h boyish frank- ness. "I won't try to lie to you, sir!" he exclaimed, "We have reason to be- lieve that the woman who was killed was some connection of the unfortun- ate Mre, Matthew Venner. We know patron's face an,, the little car swerv- ed as she gripped the wheel. "Irene!" she gasped, "011, dop't remind me of her! Do you know the whole wretched story, Mr, Barry?" "All except the details of your friendship with her and what you may know of her family" "When sloe was seventeen and I a year older. I brought her home here RIGLE>• to give her a real goad time, and she met Matt I'm not going to one any thing about, him for he's gone, too,, but the whole thing turned out to be a mistake, In a month they were mar- yied and two years later his father tool( en that miserable sneak of s clerk, and at course his wife came to Cleveland, too.5 Iler lips tightened, "Mrs, Griswold, you mean? The one who ran away with Matt \renne'P" Barry asked. "Yes. She was fascinating, I'll say that foe her, even though ' never liked her. "Curiously enough, Irene did, and that makes what happened all the worse, She was brilliant and differ- ent, somehow, and beside her, poor delicate little Irene was like a dull, gray moth to most people." "And you never heard that she had • $gas- CTP" --'c•.- any relatives in Wheatfield or else- --- where?" Barry asked, "Why, yes! How stupid of me! people en a farm near Whentfleld were II taking care of. I forgot ':bout her, for she wasn't at the wedding and I never saw her except once, long after -- Irene's death." Stella E. Fulton "A sister!" Barry exclaimed.' When did you see her? What was her first name? Please tell me about her, Mrs, Tyrrell; perhaps she is the relative I know of in New York." "Well, about seven year's after Irene's death and Mat.t's suicide, a young woman called on me who said she was Mrs, Matthew Venner's sister. Except for being pale and slim I couldn't see any resemblance, for Irene laic dark hair and this girlie looked as though it had been bleached almost white in the sun. 'There was a strength and assert- iveness in her manner, too, that Irene had never had, and although she Was shorter by at least four or five inches her face was as old as the hilts," "For what purpose had she come to you?" Barry looked away as he spoke. "That was the strangest part of it!" his companion exclaimed, "I sup- posed, naturally, that she had conte to tale of Irene, but instead she asked innumerable questions in a horrid, eager sort of way about—about the Griswold woman, She didn't give any first name, simply announced herself as 'Miss Barrows'." "Had you ever heard your friend mention a younger sister?" Barry's tone had quickened. "Yes, at school. ;;he had mentioned her by some silly nickname, I gath- ered that they came of pretty good Old stock but had become reduced in circumstances. .,. "I know she wanted her little sister present at her marriage to Matt, but that guardian of hers put his foot down and said he wasn't going to have the child's head filled wish notions that would make her discontented; that she would have to stay where cava very best work;" she was till she was eighteen, There was a younger sister that some 111m, too, 1 suppose, t n a e mproving Georges fore what it was coming to., I'll try your plan, Sarah;" School Work "I'm so discouraged about George," said young Mrs. Painter with a Sigh. "1 to doesn't seem to take any interest in his school work at all. I try so hard to arouse him. I say, 'Why can't you be like Edward Slater? Ed- ward is at the head of his class and I Gan save he is no smarter than you are.' I even offered George a dolar if be would beat Edward's record in arithmetic. But St's mo use. He does not even try;' "Don't you think that nosy be one root of your trouble?" responded her friend, Sarah. "When you set out to get one child to outdo some other child, you make it doubly hard for him to do so. For instance, instead of George putting his entire energy 5010 ids school work, a good part of it is spent in watching Edward, trying to find out what it is that gives Edward the lead, and perhaps in copying the least important things tloat loo does. In other words, you are urging hint to be an !inflator, and you know that an Imitator seldom produces anything as good as tate thing he imitates;" "Well, then, if you don't approve of what 1'vc done, tell me what you would do to interest George in his school," demanded Polly, slightly aggrieved, "Perhaps you can find out what Is the matter with lois arithmetic. It nosy be only carelessness h1 setting down the problem, Or he may be slow in setting down his problems and that gives him a low mark in all the speed tests, But at any rate, I would be careful not to suggest to him a comparison with any other child. To Improve on his own record Would bo a better incentive. Just let hint know that you only expect him to de his "Irene went to see her regularly "I am surprised that you think it after her marriage, but never said anything about those trips nor brought her to Clevelrad," "Did Irene's sister tell you nothing about herself or her plans for the future?" "I behove she did mention some- thing about being on her way East:' "What sort of questions did she ask you about Miriam Griswold?" Barry urged. "Think, Mrs. Tyrrell; this may be more important than you know 1" She glanced quickly at hien in amazement. (To be continued.) CHAPTER XI. "Let me present Mr. Barry, Mrs, Tyrrell," said the invalid. "Mr. Barry thinks he knows a relative of a dead friend of ours. I was just telling him that you were the one person who could give him the information he de- sires." "This has been a most fortunate meeting if you can spare ane a few minutes, Mrs. Tyrrell," smiled Barry, "for I must catch the next train back to New York," "I WAS about to suggest that I give you a lift in my ,car!" she beamed upon him.' "We oust not tire may dear old friend here and I confess that any curiosity has been aroused. Good-bye, Mr, Scully." Barry escorted the lady i. her run- about. "Who was this old friend of mine whose relative you know?" asked Mrs. Tyrrell. "I believe when you knew her first that her name was Ilene Barrows, afterwards Mrs, Matt Venner, Barry replied steadily, All the color vanished from his corn - 7 r ;,i Keep awake with Drowsiness is dangerous. Weary miles seem shorter and the day is brightened when you have Wrigley's with you,! Its sugar peps you up. Its delicious flavor adds to any enjoyment. A five cent package 0 safety insurance Aids digemien, tool Jim and Margery's House I've said I'd never marry, 1, And still, cud still, and still, Since I've seen J!no and Margery's house, Perhaps, perhaps, I will, It's such a quaintly modern place, 01d English style, you blow. And, In the garden back.of it, Old fashioned posies grow; And everything's just right inside— The living room, the hall, The dining room, the kitchen and The bedrooms; loves tinea all! And Margery has a Persian rug, A waffle iron, a chair Sent all the way from Belgium, and A set of gnimpe' ware. And Margery has a sun porch hung With curtains, willowy green, And all Its windows loolt 11pou A neat Surburbau scene. ISSUE No, 17-'30 And Margery has her pantry shelves Lace -paper -edged and trim; And Margery has a breakfast nook, And Margery has her Jinn! I've said I'd never marry, 1, Alnd still, and still, and still, Since I'vo seen Jim and Margery's home, Pelraps, perhaps, I will! Artificial Graphite Production Artificial graphite, an electric fur- nace product, Is made near Niagara Falls, Ontario. Use MInard's 1n the Stable. is 50 terribly important that I should not sagest any rivalry with another child. But I am willing to try out your plan, at least fora while. George simply hates school at the present time," said Polly regretfully. "There Isn't any fun in imitating other people—at least not to any one with as active and original a mind 118 George has. Can't you imagine how it would be It you and I were asked to write an essay in imitation of Ma- cauley or a play like Shakespeare's and do them better than the originals? The very idea of imitating and at the same time excelling the work of a pe'sot of ability would appall us, dia- courage us, and we should hate the task with all our might." "And we should hate Macauley and Shakespeare with all our might, too," said Polly. "I believe George hates Edward Slate'," she added, thinking out her problems. 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