New Britain Herald Newspaper, July 29, 1921, Page 5

! Phonographs Saturday at Saving of $15 These Phonographs are from our regu- lar stock—marked down for quick clearance—and a few were accepted in exchange on large instruments. $70 Machine $150 Machine $175 Machine $80 Machine $125 Machine P s There are 19 more wonderful values. All well-known makes—only one— of a kind in some instances. A Few Examples: Balance on Easy Terms. Immediate Delivery. In fairness to cther dealers we mention no names here. 4 Extra Charges NEW BRITAIN DAILY HERALD to $82 This is an opportunity that has not heen equalled, to our knowledge, any- where. You cannot afford to miss it. Every instrument fully guaranteed by Widener’s. All will be sold Saturday at great savings. PLACE YOUR ORDER EARLY 138 Main Street liOREIGN LANGUAGE RECORDS....59c¢ While They Last Polish—Italian—Swedish—German THE UNLATCHED DOOR — By Lee Thayer — Concerning a And a Man a Maid Murder (Copyright, 1920 by T he Century Company.) CHAPTER 1. The Unlatched Door. Richard Van Loo Schuyler was a young man of large and variously as- sorted wealth. His ancestors had helped to make the history of New York, from the period in which old Peter Stuyvesant stumped through its narrow, crooked streets on his wooden leg. The family had dwindled in size as the years went on, until now, eéxcept for a few cousins scattered over the world, its only representa- tives were the aforementioned Rich- ard and his old Aunt Van Loo. Richard was a good-looking young fellow, tall and fair, a natural ath- lete. His manners were simple and gracious and he made friends with such careless ease that he often failed to make the necessary effort to re- tain them. And now, though still under 30, Richard Schuyler, for the first time in his life, was bored. It was the spring of the year and a feeling of unrest filled him with vague unhappiness as he pursued his idle way along the perfumed bypaths of the park. Just ahead there was the gleam of water through the trees and a sudden dip of the path btrought him to the landing stage where a few happy children in the care of prim nurses were embarking for wild adventure in the swan boats. Dick humorously “jollied” a little boy, who, in his spirit of adventure, was in danger of falling overboard. The boy laughed and Richard heard an echo, quickly suppressed, close be- hind him. He turned sharply, and his eyes met two dancing gray ones filled with keen enjoyment. They flashed on him for the merest instant and then dropped to the capering figure by his side; but the smile on the fresh curv- ing lips remainec and a dimple still showed in the rounded cheek. Richard Schuyler stood for a mo- ment covertly regarding her. She was a young girl, small and slender, with a supple, almost boyish figure. There was something vaguely familiar about Ber face that troubled Richard. It was the sort one does not forget and he was sure had seen it betore Dick climbed the steep ascent to the driveway, a puzzled frown on his face. He had walked on for some time, | deep in thought, when slowly, slowly a picture began to develop itself on the sensitive background of his con- sciousness. “Oh, damn!” he thought with re- sret, as the vision came clear in all its details. “She’s only a maid in the house next door. No wonder I couldn’t place her!” There was no one in sight except two people pacing slowly forward at some distance from him. It was still light enough to see quite clearly and, with a little start, he recognized the girl. It was the maid next door. He looked quickly at the girl's com- panion and drew in his breath with a low whistle. It was obvious, from the elegance of the man’s dress and carriage, that he was not at all the sort of person with whom it was proper for a self-respecting serving- maid to be out-a-walking.” The girl had stopped suddenly, bringing the man beside her to a standstill. Schuyler could not hear her words, but her stamping foot and passionate gesture of dissent were unmistakable. Her companion had asked her something and she had re- fused with all the emphasis of which her small figure was capable. He said something more, leaning toward her almost threateningly, and she threw up her little head in defiance. Then the girl said, “No, no! I will not, come what may! You have no right to try to force me to do some- thing against my will!” Richard was struck by the tone of her voice. It was low and clear and her intonation was that of a culti- vated woman of the world. The thought flashed through his mind as the girl's companion answered an- grily and put his hand on her arm. With a sudden movement, the girl released herself, passed the man and dashed swiftly down a side path lead- ing toward the east. The man turned quickly in pur- suit—and brought up sharply against Richard’s' brawny shoulder. 1 beg your pardon,” said Richard, broad wooden seat of the hat rack which was built into the wall. He laughed a little as he kicked off his wet shoes. “Dear auntie mustn’t be disturbed,” he said; “I'll go upstairs in my stock- ing feet.”” He reached out his hand to pick up his shoes and touched something soft and smooth as velvet —but cold—cold with a clammy hor- ror that chilled the very marrow of his bones. What did it mean? Tohoroughly sobered now, he groped for the light switch beside the settee, but could not find it. He took a paper of matches from his pocket and iighted one, Slowly the. truth forced itself through his numbed fac- ulties: He was in the wrong house. The house was very still. The steal- thy whispering of a clock, somewhere in the shadows, jarred on every nerve. With a conscious bracing of his muscles he knelt down upon the floor and moved the tiny flame slowly for- ward. There it was, the face he had touched. He remembered well the last time he had seen it—at the opera—flashing and glowing with health. He rose slowly to hig feet and stood rigid considering. ‘‘She is dead, quite dead,” he thought, ‘“of that there can be no shadow of doubt. If I were to call for help it could do her no good— poor thing! And how to explain my being here?” He turned aside, picked up his shoes, whose position he had noted close in front of the settee, took his hat from the wall and stepped softly down the hall to the door. He opened and closed it quietly and put on his pumps. *x % It was a long time that night before Richard Schuyler slept. At last he fell into a troubled, dream-haunted slumber. The sun was shining brightly in his windows when he awoke, for he had neglected to draw the blinds. With a start he turned Iover and looked at his watch. “Half-past seven!” he exclaimed; “and I promised Blakeslie to make | the 8:40 for Meadow Bay! He said I'd never do it, 'but I'll show him.” The household, used to the young master's erratic ways, responded nobly and with time and to spare Richard Schuyler, suit case and golf- bag in hand, opened his door and stepped out into the morning ' sun- light. “Mr. Schuyler! M-. Schuyler!” On the steps of the house he had just passed stood the girl he had seen in the park on the previous day. “Can you come here for a moment?” the girl called softly. “I'm in great trouble and I don’t know what to do. Oh, please come!” He ran quickly up the steps. The girl had stepped back into the ves- tibule and now stood holding the handle of the inner door. “You'll think it very strange,” she said tremulously, “but there are only women in the house and something awful has happened! I don’t know what to do. I saw you through the door.” She pointed to the glass panel. “Yes, yes,” Dick said soothingly, “I understand. What is it, and how can I be of service to you?” “There has been a murder commit- ted here!” she cried in a voice that shook with fear. “What!” he exclaimed, with every appearance of shocked astonishment. “A murder? In this house? Who—" “Mrs. Rutledge has been killed, and Mr. Rutledge is away from home at Tuexado. There is no one here but a few of the servants, and they would be of no use in an emergency. I want to do the right thing and I don’t know what it is.” “r'll be glad to help you in any way in my power,” he said gravely, putting his hand on the door. The hall was dim after the brilliant light of the street, but the figure on the floor was easily discernible. Dick that effectively barred the way. “Very [set down his luggage just inside the clumsy of me, I'm sure. cept my apolosies.” “It's quite all rigzy, old chap,” the other said, controlling his voice with an effort. “Now let me pass, if you please.” “Certainly,” said Schuyler pleas- antly, without, however, giving ground, “but are you sure I didn’t hurt you? I'm such a blundering ass; Pray ac- gets into all sorts of trouble if one doesn’t look ahead, don’t you know? Quite sure you're all right?” “Yes, quite sure,” said the smaller man, relenting in the form before him. “It's good of you not to mind,” Richard said, moving slowly aside at last. The other darted past him without another word. Richard followed the swiftly re- treating figure at a sufficiently brisk pace to keep it in sight. His interest was strongly aroused. Soon the brightly lighted avenue appeared close at hand and the dark man’s pace slackened to a walk. The girl was nowhere to be seen. That night Dick stood on the bril- liantly lighted doorway of one of the swiftest of New York’s all-night res- taurants, swaying a little on his well- shot feet. He #nd his friends had been “hitting it up,” as they would have expressed it. The rain, which had threatened earlier in the evening, was now fall- ing heavily. A gorgeous being in gold and scarlet with a figure like a gren- adier’s and a face like an archbishop’s applied his great strength and intelli- gence to the arduous task of calling a cab. “Bighteen East Sixty— street,” Dick yawned. The car rolled smooth- ly away; Richard Schuyler dozed. He was awakened at last by the stopping of the car in front of a house. Dick dashed rapidly.up the steps, pausing in the shelter of the vestd- bule to pull out his latch key— He shivered slightly and he stooped to fit his key in the lock. As his hand touched the door he felt it swing slowly inward under his fingers. He straightened in surprise and an- noyance. The door swung open to its full width and Dick stepped inside. The soft, rich perfume of roses greeted his nostrils and he paused a moment. “Some enamored chorus girl been sending me flowers?” he speculated, smiling increduously. “Or perhaps an old flame of auntie's has turned up. Don’t run much to flowers in this house; that's certain.’ He closed the door quietly as he| spoke, groped his way over to the right, and, after hanging his hat on steady, towering [never can look where I'm going. One|I saw—" door and dropped his bat beside it. He knelt beside the still form and gently touched the wrist, which had lost its flexibility. Rising, he shook his head. “No hope at all,” he said. “She must have been dead for hours. When did you discover—" “I was a little late and I ran down the stairs and was in the hall before She stoppel an instant to steady her voice and went on. “For a second I thought she had fainted. Then' I went nearer and saw the blood.” She put her hands together lookiug angrily for any sign of |and clasped them so tightly that the knuckles showed pearly white. “I was stunned! Then I thought of poor old Miss MacLeod, the housekeeper, and what a shock it would be to her. I knew the cook would be of no use and there was no one else in the house. I looked into the street and saw you passing. I knew you could be kind and helpful’—there was a faint, elusive lightening of the grav- ity of the pale face for an inntant— “sc instinctively I called to you.” “I'm very glad to be of service, Miss—"" With a slight start she looked down at her dress. “My name is Nora,” she said slowly. Nora gave him tho telephone num- ber of the Rutledge house at Tuxedo and Dick called up to learn that Mr. Rutledge had not yet arrived there. When he had finished telephoning the gril—who had left the- room—re- turned. Dick also telephoned for a physician and had informed the po- lice of the tragedy. When he told Nora of what he had done she seemed almost not to be listening. “Yes,” she murmured with an air of inattention. There was something so odd in her manner that Schuyler looked at her more attentively and saw that she held in her hand a small packet. Her eyes followed his and suddenly her indecision, which had been quite ap- parent vanished. She raised her head and looked him full in the eyes. “You have been so good to me, Mr. Schuyler, and have helped me so much that I'm going to ask some- thing more of you. You know,” with a little smile, “‘the best reward for having wrought well—' " “qs to have more to i —_— (Continued Tomorrow) CASTORIA For Infants and Children do’” He FRIDAY, JULY 29, InUse ForOver 30 Years Always vears 7 ‘ I ,_,v’//’ 1921. = BEGINNING THURSDAY And the Ba]aqce of the Week ALL OUR MEN’S AND YOUNG MEN’S SUITS FORMERLY SOLD FOR $35.00 and $40.00 NOW REDUCED TO The Profit in the Suits Is Gone —Only the Profit in Meeting New Customers Remains! We Will Dispose of Every Suit Before Fall Goods Come in. Qur Prices Will Do It Connors-Halloran Stores, Inc. 215 MAIN STREET, NEW BRITAIN REG., U.S. PAT. QFF. GASOLINE and The sign or a reliable dealer and the world's best Gasoline STAN'.DARD OIL CO. OF NEWYORK » [ SV Nad 7a