Evening Star Newspaper, September 21, 1930, Page 94

O GET 'ER A Complete Yarn, Filled to the Brim W ith 1 hrills for the Reader. «“The Queerest and Sweetest De- tective tn the #orld” Shows How to Solve a Mystery. 'LL bet you a fox scarf Mr. Ryan didn't steal those pearls,” said Doll. “We’'ve been on the case a week now,” Hector reminded her. “I guess that gives us a right to an opinion. It must have been a well cooked plot, getting that $130,000 string out of the best guarded jewelry store on Fifth avenue. And I won't say the Brownings were there for nothing.” “You're never really -told me about it,” said Doll. Hector proceeded to outline the Fontelle pearl robbery. It happened about 10 in the morning. Out back, where Fontelle kept his very precious gems, a -loudly dressed couple argued as they pawed over strings of pearls which Mr. Ryan had laid out on a velvet cushion. Mrs. Browning, fox faced, seemed indifferent. Suddenly, Mrs. Browning’s face went chalky . white, her lips blue; she fell against the show- case, and as she sank to the floor, her husband cried out, “She’s got a bad heart!” . “And when she came to, one siring was gone,” Hector continued. “They were known as the Dewchester pearls. Fontelle ordered the doors closed and called our office. 7¢ e Brown- ings put up an awful kick but we cct!dn’t find & pearl on 'em.” “Weren't there any other people there?” asked Doll. “Yes. There were two very prominent people back in the pearl department. Judge Landseer —you know—the big law firm, Landseer, Dowl and Landseer. He came in with an elderly lady Nathan Frothingham.” . “Oh, you mean the one who makes speeches for the Milk Fund and organizes day nurseries and " QHE'S the widow of Supreme Court Justice Frothingham. She’s been dealing with Fontelle’s now for over 30 years. But she and the judge were ail for being searched. She sald it wouldn’t be fair to the Brownings, if they weren't. But Fontelle refused to hear of “So you think poor Mr. Ryan did it?"” “YWhy shouldn’t I?” Haven’t I had our best treiling him? Haven't our ropers sat in games and night club blowouts? trusted with great wealth starts ht life, gambling, getting into default or steal -before he with it.” 't take the pearls?” insisted Doll. don’t do things without a motive,” Hec. “We have evidence that Browning just cleaned up a fortune on the Street promised his wife a present. And her doctor told us she really has heart attacks.” “Just the same,” said Doll, “I'll bet Mr. Ryan didn’t do it.” Doll was demonstrating to the cook that pearls, and her reasoning had progressed like this: It's fairly safe to bet it isn’t Mr. Ryan, but maybe it is. Then there are the Brownings. If Mr. Browning is really rich and Mrs. Brown- ing has chronic fainting spells—well, that ought to let them out. And Judge Landseer. Of course, Judge Landseer's a public man and public men don’t steal—not in that crude way, anyhow. : But who's the most improbable person of all? Mrs. Frothingham. Her high family connec- tions and tireless doing of good deeds put her way above suspicion. And, reasoned Doll, if this Mrs. Prothingham is as nice as they think she is, she’ll do a lot to help. If she’s not, she’ll bear watching. i Doll looked her up in the telephone book. It would have been safe to telephone and make some sort of fictitious appointment, but Doll decided to walk and consider expedients on her way. When she reached the tall brick build- ing, a stroke of luck saved her from announcing herself as an organizer of immigrant girls’ homes. “Are you the lady wishing to look at Mrs. Frothingham’s apartment?” asked a uni- formed man as soon as she mentioned Mrs. Frothingham’s name, “Why, ves, I am.” This was too good to be true. She had herself announced as “Mrs. So Mrs. Frothingham had suddenly decided 0 move! An apple-faced German woman opened the door of 9-C and showed Doll into a wide room. “Mrs. Case?” A warmih in the question seemed to breathe s whelesome alr into the half-dismantled interior as Mrs. Frothingham came in. She was slight and pretty. Her dark eyes were quick with jinterest. Her hair was snowy white, beautifully dressed. “She's adorabie,” thought Doll. AS she hesitated, Mrs. Frothingham put her at her ease. “I haven’'t much experience with renting. I shouldn’t have taken so many of my things out. There are three master’s bed rooms, if you care to see them. I can’t use so large an apartment.” Tragedy, half invisible, - crossed her face. “Busy women ought to live in hotels.” “I would,” ventured Doll, “but I've got my Dark eyes brightened. “How old “Bud’s a boy. He'll be three next month.” “Aren’t they adorable at that age!” They were standing in a bed room door. On a little table was a photograph of a baby trundling his velocipede. “He’'s my grandson—the young- est.” Mrs. Frothingham's cheeks flushed. Then she returned to business. “My lease is up in 13 months. I'm paying $4,500 a year and all I want is to get out without losing too much. I'm asking $4,000.” “You're putting the rest of your things in storage?” Mrs. Frothingham was suddenly grave. “Well—I'm willing to make what they call a business proposition. If you can use what's left here, I'll throw them in with the lease— provided you pay me $2,000 in advance. That’s what trades people call a premium, isn't it?” Her expression was curiously masked. “That would be worth while,” admitted Doll, She had a feeling of being in deep. Shamed by a sense of betrayal, of worming into this fine woman’s affairs, she wandered to the drawing room. Mrs. Prothingham, she felt, was lying about something important. “My goodness!” the lady cried, looking at her watch. “Half past eleven, and Carol Van- dermant’s coming to take me to that commitiee meeting. You'll wait till I put on my hat, won’t you?” She gave Doll’s knee a friendly pat and was gone long enough to allow further considera- tion of the drawing room. On a small taboret lay a yellowish pamphlet. Instinctively Doll reached out for it. On the cover there as®a portrait of Mrs. Frothingham and underneath it the announcement: - Meeting Place Club, October 11, 4 P.M. Needlewomen's Guild of América presents MRS. NATHAN FROTHINGHAM sabject: KEEP THE CHILD AT HOME Presiding, Mrs. Theodore Vandermont “And today's the eleventh,” thought Doll, dropping the pamphlet into her bag just as Mrs, Frothingham came back. They went down in the elevator. A very fine car was waiting at the curb. Behind the glass of the tonneau Mrs. Theodore Vandermont showed her cool beauty. 3 DOLL lunched with Bud, as usual, but she could not focus her eyes on her son. She had a feeling that the finespun, high-minded Mrs. Frothingham must not be thrown unpro- tected to professional detectives. Whatever she had done, she wasn’'t guilty. When it was nearly 4 and she was about to leave for Meeting Place Club a messenger from Cheever's appeared and handed her a note. It was from Hector: “Dearie, I don’t think 11l be home tonight, Find that R. examined B, after the pearl job. Team work. B. walked out with the goods. Expect to land him before break-. fast. Don’t worry—Hec.” The auditorium of Meeting Place Club was filling. Doll bought a seat sufficiently forward to admire the famous Theodore Vandermont fortune as examplified in the faultlessly gowned lady who introduced Mrs. Frothingham. The gently patrician little lady, coming for- ward, was pale, and stood an instant, hesitant. “I'm going to tell you the only way I can,” she began quietly, “and I'm not going to give you any figures, because 1 haven’t much of a mem- ory for figures.” Her memory was for pictures, human pictures, vividly sketched. She hated the sight of children in dismal uniforms be- tween dismal walls. She stood there telling tale after tale of the children whom her work had brought to better conditions of life. ‘Then the speech was finished. She steod for THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHING ———I| The Story-of @@ My Doll threw herself at a taxi, skinned her knees scrambling in. “Follow that &'3 blue car,” she told the driver. an instant like one who had made an exertion beyond her strength. Doll's head was a-whirl. “She’s so wonderful,” she thought, and was overcome by an urge to speak to her. Already admirers were meunting the plat- form. Doll pushed forward. Peculiar. Mrs. FProthingham had looked straight at her, unrec- ognizing. After that instant’s glance, the lec- turer had turned away in a flash of painful self- consciousness. She whispered something to Mrs. Vandermont and the two hasténed through a side door. For a while Doll hesitated, then it dawned upon her that they had slipped out by an exit in the chamber beyond. She ran through the emptying house and into a side street just in time to see Mrs. Frothing- ham’s hat visible through the back window of Mrs. Vandermont’s car. Doll threw herself at a taxi, opened the door while it was still in mo- tion, skinned her knees scrambling in. Keep your eyes on that big blue car. Gcl- Follow it,” she told the driver. blue car so closely tou . The cars ven for an instant the taxi fell behind. Then in the middle of a block, Mrs. Vandermont’s car stopped in front of Crossman’s department store. Mrs. Frothingham’s neat figure was seen stepping to the sidewalk. Then the blue car drove on. In an instant Doll had passed some bills to her driver and was making her way rapidly toward Crossman’s. She entered the store. WAI.KING in knois. of people, Doll peered cautiously right and left. Then sud- denly, she saw Mrs, Frothingham mussing over an exhibit of feather fans. There was just time for Doll to conceal herself in the jog of a staircase. Through the spindles she could see the lady raise her eyes, look alertly from side to side, then go on with her examination. Then Mrs. Frothingham moved. With a calm, forced smile, she made straight for the artificial-jewel department; her hand trembled as she pointed down into the showcase. “Those pearls—they’re pretty.” ”"ol'fle?. madam. ‘They're marked down to The girl brought out the tray. WMrs. Proth- ingham lifted orie long pale strirg and drew it over her fingers. Then Doll's heart stood still. Sometimes you can't believe the things you see. And here was an exciting instance. A gong was sounding for the store to close. The clock over the mantel was pointing to- ward 5 a.m., but Doll had no idea of going to bed. A vicious thunderstorm was rolling over New York. What a storm! She had been drinking black coffee, to be wide awake if Hec should ring her up. . How barbarous, thought Doll, that Mrs. Frothingham, who wanted to mother all the bables in America, should be brought low over that wretched string of bubbles. And she just mustn’t be guilty. The telephone rang. Hec’s dry voice. ‘“‘How are you, dearie?” “I'm all right. Can you talk?” “Yep. But make it snappy.” In the flat second in which, if we must, we can debate very mixed questions, Doll went over her separate loyalties. She had full faith in Mrs. Frothingham'’s goodness and the old lady needed protection. But Doll couldn't bear betraying Hec for anybody. She began her story in a jumhle: “Listen, Hec. She delivered a lecture at Meeting Place Club—yes, I followed her after to Crossman’s. I saw her buy a string of $3.97 pearls. She bought one string and, when the clerk wasn't the tray where you dropped tray—" The store was just “Doll, do you mean to say those were the Dewchester pearls——" 2 “What do you think, goose?” “It doesn’t seem possible.” Thunder was clapping. “How do you know they were?” “Because——" Flash——boom-trrrr-room- boom. The wire choked off her attempted ex- planation. | Then, eut of a momentary lull his voice came : “Doll, I'll have a force of men at Cross- She screamed it hysterically. “That’s just what I don’t want you to do be-