Evening Star Newspaper, September 22, 1935, Page 89

agazine Section Five Minutes to Decide Downs grinned. “It's true, if Marian 1ys so.” A mechanic reported, “‘Ready, aptain Downs.” “0. K. All aboard.” Marian started for the plane. [ topped her. “If you get in you're ped.” She smiled at me. 1 was going to *jire my resignation from Mexico nyway.” | 1 took her by the arm — firmly this me, o she couldn’t wriggle out of the ip — and walked her a few steps way from the rest. “Listen, young loman, don’t think you're stopping e story this way. What happened is lenty, even if she doesn’t get away 1 the first boat she'll be along on the 'xt commercial out of here — you n't fool me."” #No she won’t, young man,"” farian mocked. “She hates Rusty \d she hates me. Look at her.”” I sked. If I'm any judge of expres- ons Marian was right, *“Then why in the name of Horace recley are you saving her?” “I told you they had some nice kids, 0 up and see "em sometime. Besides, m not doing it entirely for her. I'm stting old and I've just been fired om my job. I ought to get married.” “Then why not marry me?"” “You never asked me."” “Damn it, will you?"” “Damn it, ves, if you don’t print the ory."” “I've got to print it. I told the Old rarked, and presently he picked up a asket and fishing-rod he had left eside a big stone. “1 came up here last week to fish,” e explained, “but this confounded row put an end to 1t. I tried a few asts this morning in some pools up 1e burn, but it was no good."” The Inn turned out to be a dismal- yking grey stone house on the road- de, with some farm buildings behind . 1 told the landlord, a lanky, fair- aired man of about sixty, that I had sme from Falcon Castle. He tugged i, short beard doubtfully when I sked him about the road to Blairavon. “The snowplow? It's deeficult to 1y, sir. The snow’s drifted verra deep 1 places. We'll no see the roads open ) two or three days, I'm thinking."” This was all the satisfaction I could et, and Mr. Roxburgh took me into ne hotel sitting room, where a fire of me black stuff he called peat was urning in the grate and filling the air ith a pleasantly pungent fragrance. ‘he landlord brought in some excel- mt Scotch whisky, and 1 settled own to smoke a pipe before setting ut on the return journey. Mr. Roxburgh was an interesting alker. He told me he had been in the abit of coming up to Falcon Inn very August for the grouse-shooting, nd I gathered that he was a man of ndependent means. This year he had - lezided to try his luck on some of the rout streams and the little hillock ibove the Inn; but the unexpected fall of snow had upset that project, or the water was heavy with what he ermed ‘‘snow-broo.” When 1 asked him if he had ever net my grandfather on one of his isits, he looked at me with a curious ile. “'Oh, yes. I knew Felix Swinburn uite well.” ‘“Were you really intimate with jm?”’ The man put down his drink on the hble at his side. ““Well, hardly that. ut I used to dine with him at Falcon astle quite often.” “Did you like him?” 1 enquired. Mr. Roxburgh stroked his heavy in. “You talk as if you didn’t have wuch use for him yourself,” was his « Buarded reply. *‘I never set eyes on Felix Swinburn my life,” 1 said. ““The reason? Well, here was a kind of family feud years go — before I was born. 1 believe 'm his only relative. 1 suppose he ad no reason to bear me any resent- went, so he left me Falcon Castle.” “And its contents, I hope?”’ re- Continued from page nine Man I had an exclusive and if 1 don’t turn it in I'll be fired, too.” “What of 1t? It doesn’t hurt much. Anyway, 1 told you you should be writing for the magazines.,”” She was moving toward the plane. “If you've got to have a sensational newspaper story, publish the one about my wed- ding in Mexico City. I'll wire the details.” iNOL *“You'll be scooped by the Guardian if you don’t.” I hadn’t noticed, but Douglas Allet had left the party. [ could see him, now, in the lunch-room, tele- phoning. “If 1 don’t print anything — then what?"” “I'll be back on the first plane.” We were abreast of the exploding motor. She was saying something else but I couldn’t hear it. I yelled: “What did you say?”’ “Wire me expenses, care of Amer- ican Express, to come back —if I'm to come back.” That’s the way it is. The plane pulled out. Bennington sent Allet down to the office in his car and drove away with his wife in her roadster. And here I am back in the Star Building, with about five minutes to spare if 1 decide to bust the story. Shall 1, and lose Marian? Or shall 1 be untrue to my code and win Marian? If you see this story in a magazine you'll know which way 1 decided. Falcon Castle Continued from page ten marked Mr. Roxburgh with an en- quiring glance. “Everything,” I assented. “Good,” said the man, drawing slowly at his pipe. ‘““There’s a lot of valuable old stuff in that house, you know. Or perhaps you don’t — yet. There's the antique furniture. Col- lecting happens to be a hobby of mine. Felix Swinburn had some re- markable pieces of the Satyr Mask period. Have you looked at them?"’ It was a subject 1 knew little about, and I said so. “‘As a matter of tact,” 1 went on, “the old boy left a letter for me. The usual kind of thing — an old man’s blessing, and so forth — and he asked me to treasure a cer- tain mirror as a memento of him. It struck me as a quaint idea.” Mr. Roxburgh looked up sharply. “‘A Satyr Mask mirror? I'd rather like to sce it.”” Then he sat back and smiled. ‘I suppose you know Felix Swinburn’s friends used to call him old Satyr Mask. By gad, he did have anevil face. Not that he could help it.” “You think not? From what I can gather,” 1 observed, “my esteemed relative seemed to have led a pretty evil life.” Mr. Roxburgh stared up at the ceiling for several moments. “Well, perhaps you're right. He was a queer old devil. But he was no hypocrite, mind you. He didn’t pretend to be a plaster saint.” “Tell me this, Mr. Roxburgh.” I said, leaning forward. “Did you ever get any hint about some mystery con- nected with him?” The man’s gaze dropped, and he stared into the fire. “I don't quite understand you, Mr. Irvine.” “I'm going to tell you something about Felix Swinburn,” 1 continued, “and I hope you'll regard it as confi- dential. During the last year, my grandfather lived like a recluse at Falcon Castle. He never once ventured to go outside the grounds. If you were up here last August, did you happen to notice any change in him?"* “Now that you mention it, I did,” said Mr. Roxburgh, smoothing his crisp black hair. “I dined with him, and he didn’t seem like his old self at all — nervous and off-color.” “And you don’t know of any reason for the change in him?” Mr. Roxburgh turned deliberate and looked me in the eye. *‘Have you got anything on your mind, Mr. Irvine?” I sat in that armchair thinking hard. A couple of minutes must have THIS WEEK passed betore I came to a decision. So far as 1 was any judge of men, Mr. Roxburgh was the type one could trust. More than that, he seemed to have known my grandfather fairly well, and it was possible he could be of considerable help to me. Since | was bound, as soon as the roads were open, to inform the police of the murder of Mr. Paul, was there any harm in tell- ing my new acquaintance the story now? None that I could see. I finished my whisky at a guip, settled down in my chair, and began to speak. 1 gave him every detail I could. I described the unexpected arrival of Mr. Paul and Lucille Paradene dur- ing the snowstorm. I told him about my discovery of the man’s dead body in my grandfather’s room, and its subsequent disappearance. I related what little I knew about Mr. Roger Barnett and Lucille Paradene’s stealthy visit to his house during the night. Mr. Roxburgh listened to me without uttering a word, and when I had finished, he put down his pipe and drew in a long breath. “A most extraordinary business, Mr. Irvine,” he said. “Honestly, I thought at first you were pulling my leg.” I laughed grimly. “‘I wish to heaven I were! These last few days have been the queerest I've ever spent in my life. I've got to the point where I can hardly trust anyone.” “Even me?” “I didn’'t when I saw you in those pine woods,” I told him bluntly. “I couldn’t make out what the devil you were doing there.” Mr. Roxburgh gave a quick laugh. “*Another drop of Scotch, my friend!"” he suggested, ringing the bell and giving an order to Macgregor. ‘“And by the way, Mr. Irvine,” he added while the landlord went off to replenish our glasses, “why not stay to dinner with me? It'll give us a chance to talk. You'll find your way back to Falcon Castle quite easily in the moonlight.” I thanked him for the invitation, and Macgregor assured us that dinner would be on the table by seven o’clock sharp. I felt it would be an immense relief to talk with someone like Mr. Roxburgh, and since he was the only guest in the Inn, we had the little dining room to ourselves. Afterwards, we sat beside the fire, with pipes alight, until it was nearly ten o’clock. But even after we had gone over every detail several times, Mr. Roxburgh admitted he was still as much at sea as | was. “It's got something to do with old Swinburn,” he declared after a long silence. ““What can the old devil have been up to in the last year of his life?”’ “He didn’t shut himself up in Fal- con Castle for nothing,” 1 declared. “Curious,” Mr. Roxburgh mut- tered. “‘Damned curious.” “And don’t forget Dunstan,” I went on. “The old fellow's been scared to death, and his wife, too.” “I wonder if Dunstan knows more than he’ll admit,” murmured Mr. Roxburgh. “I hardly think so,” I said with reasonable confidence. “The old fel- low's been very loyal to my grand- father, and probably had some real affection for him, too— otherwise he'd have gone off to another job years ago. I guess he’s wishing to heaven now that he had!” “And you must be wishing you had never come north to this benighted place,” remarked my companion with a laugh, as I rose to go. ““Must you hurry back? I'll come with you part of the way.” We continued to talk as we trudged up the hiliside together in the moon- light. “There’s something mighty queer going on, Mr. Irvine,” he said, “and if you take my tip, you’ll keep well out of it. As soon as the roads are open, get hold of the police and leave them to their job. You clear out as soon as you can. As for the beautiful Lucille Paradene — well, I don’t quite know what to say.” When we drew to a halt, I put to Mr. Roxburgh a suggestion | had al- ready made. ‘‘Can there be somebody hiding in Falcon Castle?”” I said. “Somebody I've never seen? With those corridors and spiral stairs, it wouldn’t be difficult. Why, there might be a hiding place that even Dunstan doesn’t know about. Or else” — 1 hesitated as another idea struck me — “‘or else there might be a secret way of getting into the house. . . ."” The moonlight glinted in Mr. Rox- I'I'HOU'I' COOKING ! N burgh’s grey eves, and he shook his head. *'Lord knows! I wouldn’t be sur- prised if the whole affair is never cleared up. But don't let itget on your nerves. Leave it to the police,” he repeated emphatically, ‘“‘and get away as soon as you can. Look here — why not shut up the house and move down to the Inn? There’s plenty of room for you all.” I promised to think it over, and Mr. Roxburgh showed me a short-cut which would take me home without my having to climb up towards the pine woods. “It’ll bring you to the point where you forded the stream,’ he said, as we shook hands. ““Good- night, Mr. Irvine, and don’t hesitate to let me know if anything else happens.”” I set out along the lower slope of the hill; and, glancing back, I saw the dim figure of Mr. Roxburgh on his way down towards the Inn. He had put forward no theory, but my talk with him had served to clear my mind. One fact now stood out more prom- inently than any other, and I began to wich I had discussed it more fully with my companion. I felt fairly con- fident that if I could discover the source of my grandfather's income — amounting in the last year to nearly twenty-five thousand dollars in Amer- ican money — I would understand the whole business. As I ploughed my way through the snow, I decided that before I went to bed I would make another search of all my grandfather’s papers and be- longings. It looked as if the old man had deliberately concealed everything connected with his money; and this, as well as the fact that the London lawyer had been kept in ignorance of the matter, strongly suggested that the source of his mysterious income had been a tainted one. . .. In my eagerness to get back, I quickened my stride. But presently I found it was becoming more difficult to keep up a good pace. The snow was banked up in ridges, and I had to make several detours which took me down to uneven ground. It was treacherous, too, for once or twice I JK stepped into marshy holes where ic splintered under my feet. I hegan 10 wish I had kept on the trodden path we had made in the afternoon. After I had stumbled over the re- mains of a dry-stone wall, I went for- ward in the hopes of making better progress. But to my surprise the ground below the smooth snow-crust took a sudden dip downwards, and with a gasp I found myself slipping into a gully. I was completely buried; and if I had not twisted round and clutched the tussocks of frozen grass, I do not know how deep I might have slid. As 1 crouched there, half-suffocated, 1 could hear the mutter of running water below me; wher at last I man- aged to scramble up beside the broken wall, I thanked my stars I had es- caped so lightly. It was fairly certain I had not listened to Mr. Roxburgh'’s directions, for I knew he would never have sent me across this broken ground. Heartily disgusted, I began to retrace my steps to the point where 1 had said good night to him. The track along the higher slopes might be a more lengthy one, but at least it would bring me to the door of Falcon Castle in safety. It was almost midnight before I drew near the house, and 1 was not surprised to find the place in darkness. I had told Dunstan to go to bed at the usual hour, and I hoped Lugille Para- dene had also retired. I was not particularly anxious to meet her. After what had happened in the night before, I was finding it difficult to be more than civil to her; and I felt 1 had been little better than an impres- sionable schoolboy to have let myself be captivated by her big dark eyes and sad mysterious smile. She had told me she needed my help, and I could recall the appeal in her voice. But now I was confident she had been acting a part — and acting it with subtle skill. As 1 paused and looked up at the dark outline of the house against the starlit sky, and thought of the strange events that had happened within those walls since Saturday evening, I (Continued on page 15) P GUE PIE ND LEMON MERIN s St EAGLE BRA Blend together Fagle Bm‘lc\; prated lem- % n Juice, gagle Brand o qonsed Milk, lemon J and egg yolks: can) Eag G tract, . 11 cope O 30 ndeoned Milk 0004 or Temon e‘h } you were cook sweetene 0 & 5 ough ) V: ::; tsmon j‘“:: temon or (It thickent ,;1::‘::; creamy § “‘G"C:isc T e ind O . it. to a g n b““:o:: lehon extract “‘,‘gu‘: "into baked P S‘c‘s(“‘k“:,ok)covel 14 teas o FREE i ites iy ranulated C\'““‘b Ct - ésnc\eade by be;nnflégi: ‘\:‘l‘::\‘ L g withmerin adding sugat: 38X oy sugar 1 -inch) until stiff 2 (350 F.) Baked pie she . (hat's always P : a lemon filling t Try it, an ber — Evaporat d ¢ use Sweetend o Here's 100 thick- e But rememb recipe. 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