New Britain Herald Newspaper, July 23, 1921, Page 5

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Car- roll with his assistant, Jim Sullivan imniediately rushed to Karnak, South Carolina, where Forrest was in jail where they interview the latter. They are informed that shortly before she was murdered, Mr. Forrest had received a letter from Bennet Hem- ingway, an unscrupulous bucketshop operator and former admirer. The letter contamned a sarcastic reference to the character of Mrs. Forrest, but never had been shown to her. Forrest tells the detectives that he came home early on the evening of the third day after the wedding and found his bride had been stabbed to acatu by an ice pick. sullivan feels the same as the na- tives, that Forrest is guilty of the crime, which theory is not sustained by Carroll. Later developements show that Hemingway was in the cabin used by the Forrests after it had been leased from Franklin Furness, an ar- tist. Unknown to Carroll and Forrest, & man giving his name as Heston, had been in Karnak for three months prior to the crime, claiming to have bought the Furness lodge but failing to have the deed recorded. Carroll sent a telegram to Furness, who was in Denver, asking of the lodge had been sold or leased to Hes- ton. < “He was in town on the eighth, in the morning.” ; “And since then?” ' “Haven't seen him.” . “Wonder why he bought that place from Furness? Have you ever heard him mention?” “No; can't say as I have. He's a close-mouthed feller. ~ Never has much to say about himself. He don't come to town only when he needs supplies. Says he likes it out there.” “Go in for fraternal order work or anything like that?"” Vot him. He's sort of standoffish like most Yankees.” “He's from the North, then?" “He come from Newark, New Jer- sey.” “I see. By the way, how did he get baggage out there?” “He didn’t bring nothin’ but a grip and one teeny trunk. Mart Farnam carried that out f.r him. That's mostly how Mart lives—doin’ odd jobs like that. He's a shiftless sort of a cuss.” “I've met him,” “Rather likable chap.” “Mart's a durn good feller ‘cept when he's been hitting the booze, and what he don't know about things hereabouts wouldn’'t even fill one page of a paper.” Next morning this telegram came from Furness: F Furness lodge mine. Has not .been sold or encumbered. Taxes paid to first of next year. Ifany trouble wire. Sullivan frowned slightly. “What do you know of this man Carter?” 2~ inquired of Carroll. “Trustworthy to a degree. Has been with the Forrests about 20 years and has been almost a father to Stan. Liked Mar; as much as he did Stan himself. Admitting that the personal element is swaying me largely in this investigation, I'd just about eliminate Carter at the outset.” They found Carter ai the garage next to the Karnmak bank. He told his story simply and with an ab- sence of circumlocution. “We came through this town about noon, Mr. Carroll. Stopped and bought some supplies and drove on out to the lodge. Very rough road and hard on the car. When we got there and checked up it was found necessary to send me back in for more stuff. I had a blowout on the way and had to change rims. “This place has a cheap vulcanizing nt and they took a long time to his said Carroll. and left the old one. Didn't dare to take the return trip without my spare tire, and when I eventually got back to the lodge it was somewhere around 6:30. “I approached the house from the near—the place fronts on a small hill which slopes down to the river. It is the rear which faces the road. As soon as I got near the little back porch I saw something was wrong. It was Mr. Stanford, sir, with the body of Mrs. Forrest in his arms. There was a good deal of blood there, sir, and—knowing what it all meant— I'm afraid I got very ill. “She was quite dead, sir., It was quite evident that she had been stab- bed through the neck with an ice- pick—" “Why do you say ‘quite ewident?' “Because the pick was lying near her, sir, and it was—was covered with blood. The wound showed that it had been driven in from the reggr, in a general right-and-left direction. Poor Mr. Stanford was almost crazy with grief. He frightened me for a while; I thought he had lost his mind. - Then he carried the body by hpmself to the car and put it in the tonneau and he sat there with it on his lap and I drove in—slowly and carefully, sir, sort of feeling that if the car bumped it might hurt Mrs. Forrest; I sort of couldn't make my- self believe that she was dead. The suddenness of it, sir—it was terrible. “We got into town_ and went straight to the sheriff's house. He was very kind, sir, and took the body in his own house, and then he arrested Mr. Forrest—sort of apologizing for doing it. But he said he had to.” The two detectives were satisfied with the man’s story. It set forth the facts clearly and lucidly. They crossed casually to the court- house and joined Sheriff Potter on the veranda. “What do you know about this man Heston who has been hanging around here for the last couple of months?” Carroll asked:, “The man who bought the Furness place?” ‘“Yet ‘ Nothing. He seldom comes to town and has nothing to say when he does. Some say he's a scientist and others say he’s a writer. No one has anything against him, and I've sort of liked what I've seen of him. Why?” “Because,” answered Carroll slow- ly, “I don’t mind telling you since vou've agreed to help us, that he has had no more right to live in the Fur- ness place than you have.” The sheriff puffed meditatively on ais cigar. “It's a right nimble mind ou've got, son. Yowd have made a ood lawyer. Have you wired this hap Furness?” “Yes.” Carroll extended the tele- gram received that morning from Furness. “There’s one fact estab- lished. “Seems to me that I'd wire him 1gain asking if he has ever heard of a chap named Conrad Heston. Carroll took a loose-leaf noteBook from his pocket and scribbled a ‘tel- egram to Franklin Furness in Den- ver. This he handed to Jim Sulli- can. “Beat it down to the depot, will you, Jim, and hang around until they get this wire off?” He turned back to the sheriff. “So much for that suggestion. And now—They tell me Mart Farnam might know something about him.” “They told you Potter. “You reckon I could hire Farnam o drive us around a bit—just so as to pump him dry?” “Good pay for little work is Far- nam’s motto,” laughed Potter. “If that’s all you want him to do he’s your meat.” right,” chuckled P There was little conversation dur- ing the first few miles of the bumpy drive to Furness lodge. They sat in a large and ancient buggy, a single- seater of such ample proportions as to afford room for the trio. Farnam, gaunt, lanky, self-impor- tant, sat on the right, driving ~with his right hand anl using his left gingerly, because, as he explained, two fingers of his left hand had been mashed in a door and he exhibited badly ‘blackened nails to testify to his assertion. I;sat her animal. NEW BRITAIN DAILY HERALD, SATURDAY, JULY 23, 1921. nolent atmosphere had acted almost as an anodyne, and he had business 7 hand. Mart Farnam was to be quizzed. The detective started abrupt- ly. “How long has Conrad Heston been in this part of the country?” “Two or three months, I reckon.” “How does he spend his time?” “Buttin’ into other people’s affairs. He ain't nowise pop'lar around San- tee swamp.’ “Say-ay—" Farnam -twisted his| elongated figure in the seat and met | Carroll's eyes squarely. ‘‘What's gone | an’ give you the idee that Conrad Heston killed Mrs. Forrest?” “I don’t think he did it,” explained Carroll. “But I do think he was in the locality at that time and there- fore had opportunity to do it, pro- vided there was a reason. Which is why I want you to tell me as much about him as you can.” “I ain’t no fair person to tell you about him,” returned Farnam quieks ly. “Him an’ me ain't never gee'd a little bit.” _“Listen to me, you fellers; there ain’t much use in your questionin’ me about this here feller. I said right off an™ I say now that I hate him worser'n poison. *“You-all got the idea that he killed this hera woman. I'm tellin’ you honest that 1 wish t Gawd you could prove it on him. Ef you need any help, I'll help you. “But I don't know as he done it. I ain’t hardly got no reason to think so. All I could swear to was that on the evenin' the woman was killed he was in the woods near the lodge.” “What time was that?” **"Bout somewhere around 5 o'clock or a léetle after, I should say.” “Did he know that the Forrests were coming to the cabin?” § “If he did he was a wonder. No- body hereabouts knew of it.” They jogged around a bend in the road. Far ahead, and coming toward them, was a horse, and as they drew. closer Carroll saw that there was a sirl upon it. Even before he could see. her face he admired the costume of divided riding skirt and blue-collar'd middy blouse; his eyes glistened with frank admiration at the ease with which she Gone from Mart’s face was the easy, indifferent smile; gone from his manner was the lolling shiftlessness. The buggy and the girl drew close to one another. And just before they passed Mart Farnam raised his hand and removed his battered felt hat with a flourish. “Evenin’, Esther.” The girl looked at him. She looked through him. She galloped by with- out a sign that she had seen Far- nam, the bugsy or the occupants of the buggy! For a few moments Farnam’s face grew beet red. Then the color reced- ed, leaving a deathly pallor. His sinewy frame shook as though with palsy, his feet scraped a bit. Carroll turned to gaze after the girl. He had been amazed by her virile beauty. She was an exotic in this drear waste. And Farnam . . . The eyes of the swamp angel wero | fixed on nothing. They wers nar- rowed, now; a bitter glance staring out from under half-closed lids. For a while no one spoke, and it was | Carroll who broke the silence— broke it because he had to, and seek- ing to be as tactful as possible under the circumstances. “Mighty pretty girl, wasn't she, Sullivan? By the way, Mart, who is she?” Farnam moistened his lips with his tongue. “She—she—" He choked, then began over: “She's the reason I hate Conrad Heston!” v CHAPTER 1IV. “Cherchez la femme!” The words slipped from the tight-pressed lips,of Jim Sullivan and reverberated in Carroll's ears. Find the woman! Here, at least, they had found a woman; a woman in some way mixed up with the mysterious Conrad Heston! For some time there was silence in the battered buggy as it clattered along the corduroy roadbed. Tha grim silence of the forest enfolded them like a muffling mantle. But Car- roll was too vitally interested from’ a personal, as well as a professional, standpoint to allow the matter to drop where it was. “You have known her long?” To his surprise Mart Farnam an- swered frankly. It was almost as though he was eager to speak of her to some one. “I been knowin’ her all my life.” “What is her name?” “Esther. Bsther Devarney.” “And Heston?” suggested Carroll, softly. The bruised fingers of Mart Far- nam's left hand balled into a bony fist. He seemed oblivious to the pain the action must have caused. ‘“He's more her kind. She’s been sort of highbrow sence her old man sent her to school down to Charleston.” “Educated, eh?” “Yep. Plenty of book-learnin’. It sort of got high-falutin’ notions into her head an’ sence she graduated there she cain't sort of seem to fit into her home no more. Ain't none of the folks around here seem to understand her. They say I’d be fool- ish to marry her, seein’ as she wouldn't never be contented and we'd allers be unhappy. But that ain’t getting around the fact, Mr. Carroll, that I want to marry her an’ that I hate the man who took her from me.” “Conrad Heston?"” “Yep. He's the one. That's why I hate nim. He ain’t my kind. I guess you'll understand@ him better'n I do. He's got book-learnin’, too; and from the time he got here first-off an’ met her. they been that thick. But you know wel: as I do that he ain't the marryin’ kind—not where a girl like her is concerned.” “You don’t mean—?" “Yes,” bitterly, “I do mean—ijes’ that. She’s been goin’ to his placa day after day sence he's been alivin’ there. He’s been amakin’ love to her. An’ if he’d been fixin' to marry her, there’'s been plenty of chance. I met her 'bout three days ago—"" “The ninth?” o ——— NEW BRITAIN BIRD STORE ALIVE OR FRESH KILLED BROILERS AND FOWLS Also the well known Purina Chicken Al bY HE ENJUYS PERFECT HEALTH “FRU.T-A-TIVES” K. i Stomach, 'l , and Liver in order F. R. ADAMS 154 Elm St., Lakeport, N. H. “I realize that I have reached the age (65) when one often requires fixing up. My digestipn was not right and trouble with my Liver and Bowels caused considerable distress. I could not get rid of “he Consti- pation ; agd the insufficient action of my bowels resulted in my blood absorbing the poisons. Last fall, I began taking ‘Fruit- a-tives’ or Fruit Liver Tablets, and after using them for a short time I could see they were just what my system required. My liver becamo active and improvement in every way was apparent. I doubt whether anyone could fecl better than I do; and I am willing to give credit where credit is due, to *Fruit-a-tives’.” F. R. ADAMS. 50c. a box, 6 for $2.50, trial size 25¢. At dealers or from FRUIT-A-TIVES Limited, OGDENSBURG, N. Y. e —— “Yes., I met her then an’ I told her even after what'd happened I cared for her an’ was willin’ to marry her if she'd drop him. I tol’ her that —that was what I was willin’ to do. An’ she—she laughed at me!” 2 And finally they stopped before an old stone pair of gateposts, between which swung a heavy iron gate. Stretching away toward the river for a distance of about 300 or 400 yards was an avenue of poplars, straight and tall and stately and framing a small, very attractive little cypress and gum cabin at the other end. To the west from the gateway stretched the road over which they had just driven. To the right it wound in a general southeasterly di- rection toward the settlement where Mart Farnam and the Devarneys oA, Farnam alichted and proffered his services as guide. Carroll waved| B ‘on’t think so, obliged just the same. over the scene witk Mr. Sullivan— just the pair of us. Not that we don’t appreciate your offer—"" Mart shrugged. “Have it your own way. If you want me—call me. Mart. Much T'd rather look The Offi. Distance 1 Mile 5Miles 10 Miles 15 Miles 20 Miles 25 Miles 50 Miles 75 Miles 100 Miles One Hour Chowder, Scratch, Chick and Pigeon Feed. All Sorts of Fishing Tackle PARIS SAYS BY MARIAN HALE. New York, July 22.—Here we are, fresh from Paris without a hoople miss- ing, Maybe they will come to America and maybe they will not. ¥ But at any rate the gay Parisiennes are billowing about the race tracks and summer resorts of France, all dolled up in regular grandmother clothes. Truly, they are ‘“‘all over the place.’ New York designers say that even if the hoopskirt is recognized in our best American style circles, it will be in a very modified form. New York has something to say about fashions these days—so freaky fashions from the other side are elim- inated by the authority of our own style arbiters. Even in fashions America strives to be practical, We haven't room for hoopskirts except on the stage. Fancy a bevy of hoopskirted damsels in a crowd! 1t is to smile! “Jus’ one more word, Mr. Carroll, an’ then I'll be moseyin’. This here river runs due east for a mile or so, then it turns off 'most due south. It runs down by near where I live. But just where the bend comes is a little cabin.” He stopped short and turned away. “What about the Carroll. . “Nothin’. Nothin’—only if you wish to ask me where Conrad Hes- ton would most likely be found, I'd sort of guess that there was it.” S Carroll and Sullivan approached the cosy little lodge slowly, intent on their work, keen eyes missing no de- tail of the scene. At length they reached the cabin. Carroll stopped, and bent his eyes intently on the two wooden steps leading from the ground to the dog-trot. “See here, Jim.” It was perfectly plain; two large spotches outlined in red, and un- doubtedly made by the large shoes of the murderer. The outlines of the footprints were not clear, but they were sufficiently impressed to estab- lish the fact that the man had worn a large shoe. Sullivan put his hand on the screen door leading to the Ydog-trot, but Carroll stopped him. “One thing at a time, Jim. TId like to see if these tracks prove any- thing.” Sullivan frowned a bit. “They’re not very clear, chief, but it strikes me that they were made by a large foot and that the man who made them walked toward the house and* ran away.” 4 “Why s0?”" “Wherever there is enough dirt for the footprints to register they show fairly plainly the imprint of the heels; heels which I should say were con- siderably run down on the outer edges. On the reverse tracks there are no heel marks at all. Instead they show the tips of the broad toes very plainly, which would seem to indicate that the man, whoever he was, was running and running fast; running on his toes and digging into the turf. 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