Evening Star Newspaper, March 30, 1930, Page 92

d have caught his death of cold. with the nurse, was holding Bud in lap, sniffing the odors of breakfast when a headline on the front page of the newspaper caught her eye. SEETON WELL FINDS GIRL SHOT DEAD IN HIS HOME., Why did Doll’'s one-track mind connect her Seeton which might have advanced him in his peculiar calling? Or was it just because Doll was again feeling out with the quick little nerve-ends of her sixth sense? According to the paper, Seeton Well, heir of the late Gen. Pontius Well, came home on the eve of his wedding day and found a richly to Paris. One inside servant and a chauffeur sufficed for his temporary needs. Mr. Well was dressing for dinner. ton had let her into the small drawing room. She hadn't given any name and Mr. Well was irritated when he heard she was there; Old Huntington, in a pathetic effort to save his master, did his bit to blacken the case. Mr. Well was nervous; probably he was think- ing of the speech he’d have to make. At any rate, he scolded Huntington and said, “Send her away.” The servant went to the drawing room and found that she had already gone. P ™ P ) Huntington identified ‘the ‘body. He would THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, LEMON VERBENA A Dijfferent Sort of Detective Story. By Wallace Irwin. Her eyes were morbidly held by the round, spattering burn in the fragile lace. That would be where the bullet penetrated. know her by her beautiful coat, if nothing else Reading feverishly, Doll felt pity for the prospective bridegroom, his reputation so blast- ed on his wedding eve. Helena Miles, his fiancee, was one of the season’s most beau~ tiful debutantes. It was pitiful to read of how she had come out like a good little sports- woman, said that Seeton could never, never have done such a thing. And Doll, being by nature a fiery partisan, stanched her tears and declared passionately that Helena was right. The article closed with bad news for Seeton. He was first held as a material witness, then released under bond. Doll was still reading when Hector came in. His collar had wilted, his eyes were sleepless, red and worried. He ran his fingers through his tousled hair and confessed, “They've put me on the Seeton Well case.” “You mean Seeton Well?” “Let’s have some coffee, Doll. Thanks . . . You see things look black for Seeton Well, and the Wellses and the Mileses have employed us to clear him——" “Goody!” “Why? You saw the newspapers. Since they went to press a lot more has come out, and unless we work fast Seeton Well's going to find himself behind bars.” “What do you mean—has come out?” “wm Well went in and found the body . he was followed by his chauffeur, & fellow named Cummings, carrying some suit cases. Cummings says Well was very nervous before he got to his bed room. When he looked at the woman he said, ‘Who can she be?” But Cummings told the police that his boss knows who she is. Seeton Well, accord- ing' to the man, has been in the habit of meeting her at drug stores and driving round the park.” “What does Mr. Well say to that?” “He can’t understand why Cummings could have made such a mistake, unless he got the woman and Miss Miles mixed. Seeton Well said that he met Miss Miles at drug stores several times when she got bored with parties. And Miss Miles has a Chinese coat a lot like the one the dead woman had. Cummings is his friend the $20. The police think it was a blind. Ralph Leacock is somewhere in Phila- delphia. They can't locate him. But the theory is that Seeton went over to his own apartment and shot the woman.’ ’ “You don’t believe that!™ “No,” growled Hector. “But it looks bad. Seeton Well sent his own car to the garage during the dinner. He went to the studio in a taxi. We can't locate the driver.” “Somebody,” said Doll with the simplicity of a child and a sage, “must have shot the woman.” “I'll not deny that. Doll, the police are on the wrong scent. Meanwhile, the real man is right under their noses. They haven’t even taken the trouble to ask him questions.” “Who—-" “Huntington, the old boy who calls himself a valet. My theory is he killed the woman to get revenge on his master for some private reason. His behavior has been suspicious. I examined the gun carefully and found it was & handsome old piece. It used to belong to MARCH 30, 1930. “Anything else?” “A"Jot else. Where was Huntington at the time of the murder? The coroner says it occurred about 10. Old Huntington pretends to be awfully absent-minded. I questioned him as much as I dared. He said at first that some one had telephoned to him just as his master was leaving; the man on the wire said say it takes a woman to find out about another woman.” “What do you want to do?” he asked. “I want to see her clothes. Then I want to talk to that old valet.” A’r the homicide bureau the detective who opened a locker for Maud and brought out the fluffy tragic garments had a pitying air which plainly said, “Cheever’s amateurs again.” Her eyes were morbidly held by a round spattering burn in the fragile lace. That would be where the bullet penetrated the poor body at close range. What a lovely thing it was, this creation of shadowy pink and gauzy silver. The idea, thought Doll, that a lot of men should be sitting in judgment on a thing so illusively feminine. Yet it was man-made, this dress. And French. But the label of the maker had been ripped out. She lifted the bodice and sniffed appraisingly. Cleaning fluid. Not the regular kind. Suddenly she lost interest in the fine texture of undergarments which she took one by one from their peg. Cleaning fluid. She sniffed again. And the lovely Ko-su coat merely interested her as a smell. The same cleaning fluid had been used on every one of the garments, even the gilt shoes. Everything but the stockings. Holding them up, she made a discovery quite as important as the prevalent scent. They were light tan, not at all in keeping with the rest of the costume; and they were of a cheap imitation silk. “Thank you.” Dell left the detective gaping. Amateurs, especially female ones, usually ask a lot ef useless questions, . But her mind was searching, searching. That faint fragrance clinging like a half-told secret. And those pathetically cheap stockings, seeming to apologise for themselves in such queenly company. The gift slippers held the prevailing scent, too. Like a mingling of lemon verbena with ether * * * At the street door Doll ran into Hector, look- ing worried and hurried. “I was wrong about the pistol,” he grumbled. “Seeton Well has ad- mitted that he himself sent the old man to have the gun repaired. Said it’s one his father car- ried on his ranch and he wanted it put in order. Of course, the police don’t believe it. Gee. It looks as if that boy was trying to send himself to the chair. Oh, hello there.” A car had stopped by the curb and a young man stepped out. “That’s Seeton Well,” whis- pered Hector and ran to greet his client. As the two came toward her, Doll had a chance to justify her prejudice in Seeton’s favor. He had honest blue eyes behind a pair of student’s spec- tacles; his boyish smile proclaimed his inno- cence. The sight of him redoubled her interest and she was thrilled when Hector introduced him. “The minute I read the paper I ssld you didn’t do it,” she blurted out, because she felt that an expression of confidence would help. “Thank you.” His face lighted up. But I wish all the world felt that way, Mrs. Stoat. Anyway, I have some good news for your hus- band. My cousin just got back from Philadel- phia and he’s shown the police the shelves I ransacked for those etchings last night. Or shouldn’t I be talking lke this, Mr. Stoat?” Ignoring Hector’'s look, Doll broke in, “Oh, you can say anything to me. I'm helping on the case. Aren't I, Hector?” “That’s fine!” declared Seeton Well. “And I wonder, Mr. Well,” she hastened to ask, “if it would be all right for me to go and talk with your butler?” “Valet,” corrected Hector grimly. “Certainly. If you can get by the police.” “I've got an order from Cheever's.” And wasn't he a prince! Where in the world did he live? She turned to ask him, but found that he had already gone. Then she saw his chauffeur standing by the car, surreptitiously drawing on a cigarette. e was as good Jook- ing as Well, but in a different way. He wore his uniform like a soldier. When she asked for Mr. Well's address he told her promptly. She had the feeling of one talking to sentry. “That was a pretty terrible thing, wasn’t it?™ she ventured. “It was ‘orrible. I've been in the war, lady, and I've looked on the dead more than once. tBuct.oseeuvcmnnllke that—it gave me & urn.” “How do you think she got in while Mr. Well was away?” “’Eaven knows,” said Cummings. “At first I thought she was a lady Mr. Well took a fancy to and used to ride about with in the park, That was my mistake and I'm sorry.” N the long trip up-town Doll’s noglmicted by the thousand smelils of umerground travel, was still haunted by the scent of clean- ing fluid. A cleaning fluid with the faint odor Maud Stoat’s life? “Madame Artois!” A woman from Cheever’'s, wearing a maid’s uniform, let her in to Seeton Well's maisonette, examined her credentials, showed her to the butler’s pantry. An old man, sitting in his shirt sleeves was reading and smoking his Before he saw her, Doll noticed the wasted ammunition . Poor Hector, thought Doll, thep said “Hem!” to attract his attention. “I beg pardon, madam,” Huntington's hands still shook as he took off his spectacles. “I'm from the Cheever Bureau,” she ex- “I'm Mrs. Stoat. I'm here to help you out. You've got yourself in wrong with the police by telling lies.” you say to them that you went to see your sick boy, then tell my husband that it wasn’t your boy, that you can't re- member the place you went, that you've lost the addresses? Now, where did you go last night?” “I went to Brooklyn, just like I And it was to see my son. tell anything, because, you been’—a whisper—*“dealing got him once.” Then aloud: “How was it queer?” “That man calling me by ’phone just fore Mr. Seeton went out. _And saying Charlie wanted me quick. And when I wemt to Brooklyn Charlie wasn't home.” “Was it & man ’phoned you?” left for Brooklyn?” “I—I can’t see—" “Are there any closets near the room where she was waiting?” He shuffiled weakly and she urged, “Come on, show me.” “You see, ma’am”—he was leading her from closet to closet—“the police went through pretty thorough. But ‘ere’s a door opposite the coat closet we usually keep locked.” There was a key in the door indicated, and Doll turned the knob and peered in on a row of dark suits. . “Was the key in last night?” “Yes, ma’am. The detectives was asking me that, too. I'd had Mr. Seeton's suits out that afternoon to brush them.” “When did you finish brushing these things and put them back?” she asked Huntington. She had reached the rear of the closet and was holding up the last sleeve in the row. “About 4 o'clock, I should say, ma’am.” It was a dress coat she was gripping so firmly. The evidence was not very plain. A detective might have missed it. But running down the sleeve she caught the faint line of white. It was powder. Face powder perhaps? Raising the sleeve to her useful nose she sniffed