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A Red-Headed Girl By Henry Kitchell Webster Copyright 1929, North American Newspaper Alllance and Metropolitan Newspaper Service. SYNOPSIS. After the death of her father, whose last herself Rhoda White, guardiansh urcle, William Royce. Tt find ber throush the me of news Martin Forbes. a reporter and one of tells her ~that | casual. And, if his question aroused suspicion, he'd be worse off than if he'd gone straight to the clerk in the first place. His gaze was questing about the lobby, erything that everybody did, studying faces in the of finding one-dull and friendly and unsuspicious enough to suit his pi e. ‘The man who had just come down in one of the elevators and now stood 1| talking to the captain hadn't a face ou trunk, which S0d Giaire. But before be can'te his feat she goes to see & man named Max Lewis uncle and who, 5 & been Mr. McFar- st cording to Claire, had Then she hears a_familiar voice—her uncle’s. s rs and offers her money to B e o mee DALy, M Riready catied up t Babe know where she atches the telephone from the apartment at th s0es at onc suite, demanding in 's disappearance. Immediately the receiver. TWENTY-FIRST INSTALLMENT. ORBES hung up, t0o, and left the booth. Then he sat down in one of the big armchairs in the lobby. The first thing to find out was the number of Forster’s apartment, and obvious way would be to ask the clerk. But Forster was no ordinary transient guest here. A man as rich as he was, and permanently domiciled defenses. The like that; very much the contrary, in fact. In his double-breasted blue serge Martin kept staring at him, regard- less of the risk of catching his eye, until, in his own mind's eye, he had put a derby hat on his head and a brown overcoat on his back and a . | little leather notebook in his hand, and ized him. recogn! He was the man who had come to Rhoda’s apartment last night, getting names for the new city directory. And this identification led to another. This was the man whose voice he had just now been trying to remember, the man on the telephone who had been preten he was 2| e inn owaaten ‘ e In't was time gettin, any getting do from =Forster's apartment, and the action, following so Closely on their telephone conversation, had to Martin the look of spi from it. It seemed a reasonable guess that the instructions Blue Serge was giving the captain were that any per- son asking questions about C. J. Forster or trying to get through to him was to be dealt with in a special manner.. Satisfied that the captain understood these instructions, whatever they were, Blue Serge crossed the lobby to the desk. Here his business was not with the clerk, but with the manager. Leaving the desk, the man in the blue serge suit now started across the lobby in a new direction, one that would bring him, unless he veered off, uncomfortably close to Martin's chair. But before this embarrassment became acute he was diverted by one of the ho crossed his path. The suit he looked like the house detective. | giving THE EVENING STAR, WASHINGTON, D. (., THUKSDAY, UKCEMBE® 5 1929, . boy seemed unaware of him, but Blue Serge, after a sharp look, went back to the desk, summoned the manager again, brought him out into the lobby a little way, and nodded after the boy. Then he disappeared into an elevator. Martin sat still, not quite sure wheth- er he was wasting into focus. things were really coming It was worth waiting another minute for, he decided. But he didn’t have to wait. The last scene of the swift little panto- mine followed immediately. The manager, returning to his office, paused for a word to the bell captain. The bell captain spoke to the boy Blue Serge had pointed out. The boy, with a look of surprise, went into the man- ager's office to come out, a minute or two later, flushed, indignant and. withal, profoundly puzzled. Something had happened to him that he seemed utterly at a loss to account for—disei- pline, evidently, that he felt to be un- deserved. He was coming along slowly in Martin's direction. . That was luck. ‘There was a service door of some sort right beside his chair. That was luck, too, for it wasn't until the boy was in the act of passing his chair that the the significance of the little play clicked into a pattern in Martin's mind. That boy hed seen something.” He possessed, probably without suspecting it, some plece of damaging information, and they'd taken measures to prevent his Prob- ably discharged him. Laid him off on a fictitious pretense. If this was a good guess, Martin had something to tell him. He rose from his chair just when his doing so inter- sepbed the boy's progress toward the oor. " ;dx guess you're looking for me,” he said. By that time Martin had moved from his chair to where one of the great square pillars of the lobby cut off the view of the desk. The boy followed him uncertainly and asked, “What made you think I was looking for you?" Martin took the plunge. “If they Just laid you off,” he said, “I think I can tell you why they did. Who's the hatchet-faced man in the blue serge suit who works for Forster? He pointed you out to the manager just now.” “Do you mean Conley? I haven't done anything to him. Say, who are yoflu: How do you know they laid me o that information away. “‘Conley’s expecting a reporter around here in a few minuf reporter who's trying to find out about the dis- appearance of a girl. Conley knows more about it than he wants to tell, and he doesn't want the reporter to find out anything. He had you laid off because he thought you knew something about her.” “I don't know anything. about any girl that's disappeared,” protested the boi"m "tsgy, who n:“ cyouu]r' 9 e reporter nley's expecting in about 15 minutes. I got here be- After 31 years of souP-mal(in g we say: “'I:his is the finest Tomato Soup . ”» WwWe ever made! Nature with ber marvelous tomatoes, Our chefs. with their life-long experience. No wonder this soup is so delicious! Only rarely do spring rains and summer sunshine combine in just the right proportions to produce tomatoes of such magnificent flavor. Seldom within ]iving memory have tomatoes been so alluring in color, so full and firm in flesh, so heavily laden with tonic juices. Although for more than a quarter of a century Campbell’s have been leaders in the culture and development of fine tomatoes, we consider this year’s tomatoes in a class by themselves. And of course golden moments in this was to us one of the our ltilmry, for with it there came the opportunity to give that extra vividness of color, that extra deliciousness of flavor to Campbell’s Tomato Soup which has always been our ideal. Admirers of Campbell's Tomato Soup are counted in the millions. This year their enthusiasm has given a new lu'l: popuhrity to this favorite soup. Just taste it] You will say its famous color never flashed to the eye a more fascinating clnllenge. You will say its tonic, invigorating flavor never gave to your appetite a more quickening thrill. You use it in so many ways that it’s convenient and economical to get 6 or 12 cans at a time. YOUR CHOICE .. . Osder any of these Campbell’s Soups from your grocer Asparagus Bean Beet Bouillon Celery Chicken Chicken-Gumbo (Okra) Clam Chowder Consommé Julienne Mock Turte Mulligatawny Mutton Ox Tail Pea Pepper Pot Printanier ‘Tomato ‘Tomato-Okra Vegetable Vegetable-Beef Vermicelli - Tomato LOOK FOR THE RED-AND WHITE 1 !i time or whether | I ! fore he was quite ready for me. Didn't you see a girl—a red-haired girl? Didn't you answer e questions of hers or take her somewhere?” “Sure!” said the boy. “Forster was expecting her. ‘I took her up to the top floor, to the jprivate elevator. Con- ran her up fm there. But I didn’t . She was a nice kid. She wouldn’t ha@f put in any complaint about me.” “Of course, she didn't. ‘That was just his excuse for laying you off.” The boy'sy fl'é’m-mn was natural, but Martin badn’t time for it. “How g:k you know Forster expected her?" he ed. “Because we ran. her right up the minute she gave her name. Miss White, It wes. She didn't know For- ster owned the hotel, and she seemed sort of scared when she found she was going up to that bungalow of his on the roof. Conley came down in th~ private elevator to take her up. ' And she kind of backed away when she saw him. But she rode up with him, just the same.” “What time was this?"” “I don’t know,” said the boy. “It was after 3, because that's when. I came on duty. Say, do you think they're keepindg her up there?” M nodded. “I'm going up to see if she's there, anyhow.” “How you going to get in?” the boy wanted to ow. “The private eleva- tor’s locked up except when they run it themselves. The only stair—except the service stair—comes down into Forster's office on the top floor. That'’s all locked up now. The, service stair would take you right up into the pantry, and they’ll be serving his dinner just about now. I don't believe you can get up if g% fresh with old man'’s scared to death some one will get him some time.” “How about the fire escape?” Martin asked. “There’s a fire escape landing outside the window right at the end of the corridor on the top floor. And there’s a steel ladder goes up from there that curves over the sort of stone railing at the edge of the main roof. I've never been up there, but cne of the other boys told me about it. The ladder don’t exactly lead anywhere, because the bungalow don’t come out to the edge of the building. It's set back, sort of, so there’s a runway all around it. He said the windows were too high to see into, but maybe there's some way you can climb up. Or perhaps there’s & door— though it would probably be locked. And that ladder must be pretty scary, climbing right up over the edge of nothing.” Martin reached into His pocket for the tip the boy had so well earned and his fingers closed upon the one mp dollar bill whi¢ch was practically all that was left of the money he'd bor- rowed of Babe that afternoon. Penni- less again! Well, it couldn’t be helped. “Say,” said the boy as Martin held out the dollar, “are you doing all this to get a plece for the paper?” “No,” Martin admitted, “the paper hasn’t anything to do with this. She happens to be my girl.” “Gosh,” said the boy, “I don't won- der you're going up to get her. I don’t wnr;é the money. I'd like to help, if I could.” So Martin shook hands with him, in- stead, and walked away, with the best air of unconcern he could assume, to the elevators. The captain was busy trying to ex- plain something to a dull guest. they don't want you to. They say the A¢P IS THE WORLD’S “As far as you go,” Martin said in to an inquiring response lance fr the elevator boy. He hoj b would conceal hesitation on his part when it of the elevator at the fatal to his plan, e him whose room he was He must choose in advance zu.rn. Very well, he'd , the boy opened the door, an walked out and made his precalculated turn. It seemed at first that he had irade & bad guess, for he found himself walk- ing straight toward a partition of glass and with a door the middle of J. Forster.” These were But the door was sjar and there was a light inside.” The elevator hadn't started down. The operator was certainly watching him. The only oberi the oot Bhe WAL by anecs LSt r and wal and see w! happened after that. s (Continued in tomorrow’s Star.) - Rene de Bonand Dead. BIARRITZ, France, December 5 (#). —Death of Rene de Bonand, husband of Anne Harrison, the daughter of the late Learner B. Harrison of Cincinnati, Ohio, was announced here yesterday. . 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