Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, December 18, 1916, Page 8

THE BEE: OMAHA, MONDAY, DECEMBER 18 W A AL 2 S WL 1916. e Scarlel Runner Vitagraph From the Popular Novel of the same name by C. N. and A. M. Williamson Stars of This Episode MR. EARLE WILLIAMS LOUISZITA VALENTINE as MARGARET PLANTAGENET Next Week Another Story and New Picture Copyright, 1916, by the Star Compsny. All Foreign Rights reserved. CHAPTER X. 'THE LOST GIRL. Christopher was scorching. He had engaged to do an Impossible thing, or impossible with a car less sympathetic than Scarlet Runner, but he believed that he was going to do it. He had a tingling rush down a long, straight stretch of road when, slow- ing as little as he might for a turning, he shot through a wooded common and ran upon something interesting. Mechanically he came to a stop, 8o suddenly that Scarlet Runner—-its ar- mor off for speed—waltzed in yes- terday’s mud, and put her bonnet where her driving-wheels should have been. Above its head and Christopher's a charming balloon was poised, its an- chor attaching it to earth in an ad- jacent fleld, while leaning over the edge of its basket-car, at a height of thirty feet in air, a young man drank a cup of tea and looked down upon the approaching motor. “Halloa!” said he in the sky. ] oa!" replied he on earth. “That's what you call slide-slip, isn't Or it's first cousin,' grumbled Christopher, angry with himself and rufied with the stranger. “Side-slip's something we never get,” said the young man in the bal- loon, watching the motorist right his car. “Or tire trouble; or—" “We don't have to say our prayers every time we want to stop,”” l!.’d Christopher. “Good bye. Hope you'll get somewher % “I'm in no hurry to get anywhere, answered the other. “I'm -out for fun; aren’t you?" 0; for business. Goodby again.” “Don’t go,” urged the balloonist. “Njce red assassin you've got—only a bit old-fashioned.” “Dld-fashioned!” echoed Christo- pher. “Why, she's the latest thing “'Lm..—_"e, T only meant old-fash. m -fash- joned in comparison with my Little Stranger. An automobile's the vehicle of Mcrdg,y. a balloon the carriage of tomorrow. ' I, they'll both be out of date © the day’ atleps said Christopher, and smiled, for there was something en- gaging about the young man in the Bky. “I dom't know where you want to go, but I bet I could get you there han you can get yourself. “What? C you go from London to Torquay in seven hours? That's what I'm to do. Shouldn't Bave fo try. St I take you?" “Car and al?” . “Come, I'm serious. Put your red crab up at the ,vllh{o. which I can see not far off, though in your worm- like position on earth you can't get @ glimpse of it. Shouldn't wonder if there's a garage of sorts.” . There was & microbe in Christopher Race's blood which went mad when came in contact with the microbe 8 adventure. His errand ndon to Tourquay was an er- Fhata e eI L he reonally conducted” ‘&:& t‘olur;.‘ uult made a little money since he set up as a man chautfeur, he could not tle- ord to An ad- ro ':o;nhhlll.fiu been answered any v%n by a Mr. Finnington Brown i ol ington hall, near uay, in- Cof him to bring his car on a visit 0 on and be engaged for a month's trip if satisfactory. _ It would surprise Mr, Finnington if the advertising chauffeur dropped in on him in a balloon, say an hour earlier than expected in a motor car, and explained that—that ~—but bother explanations!—say that, owing to unforeseen circumstances Scarlet Runner would appear later, “I accept with pleasure your kind invitation for tea and a canter,” said Christopher aloud, “Will you call for me or do I call for zou‘!" “We'll make a rendezvous,” replied the other, “a little lower down—or what you're still accustomed to con- sidering ‘down.’ When you've put up your crawler, you might just bring along an able-bodied yokel or two to help unhitch me from the stars, eh? 1 don't want to let myself down, as 1 can't spare gas.” The news of the “free show” pro- vided for the neighborhood spread mysteriously, and by the time Chris- topher and his attendants were out of the village half the able-bodied in- habitants were at their heels. A g crowd watched ling down of the balloon, and lis- tened, open-mouthed, to the instruc- 110:: iven by the aeronaut. dience, he was as calm as the weather, which, in the lull after the storm, e abled his directions to be carth, from flight. the slow for him, despite the surging au- obeyed without hitch. His basket car touched light as a swallow dropping Each of Christopher's, assistants got half a crown for thel Company CHRISTOPHER RACE others, even wilder, came into view. Also, the air seemed fresher, though not intensely cold. The sun had set behind leaden clouds. Already, as one says across the channel, it made night; and far below they saw clustering lights, shining like jewels on purple velvet cushions. Though they could feel no wind, as they bent over the edge of the basket the lights in the world below appeared to float rapldly past, as if borne by an onrushing tide. Sometimes they were hidden by black rags of cloud; but at last these rags were fringed with gleaming silver. The moon was coming up, clear and full, and, as if in obedlence tq her com- mand, the wind was still; the lights in the purple depths no longer moved | on a dark tide, but a river of silver swallowed up the yellow sparks and flooded the purple valleys. “Good!” sald Western. “Now we can descend. We shall have an illum- fnation for our landing, and though we're coming down into a mist—a sea mist, I should judge by the salt tang of it—it's 8o thin that we shall know | whether we're dropping on earth or water."” i ‘“‘Have you any idea where we are? asked Christopher, who had long ago abandoned hope of Torquay or its nelghborhood—if he had ever really had any—but, like a true,sportsman, was revelling in the adventure. “Might be Hampshire," suggested Western vaguely. "()9:—on1. mlul}t be anywhere—near th® coast. It's hard to say to thirty miles or so, the way we have been racing." He had pulled the valve-cord and they steadily descended. Now they swam in a sea of creamy mist, laced with the moon's silver. They knew that they must be near earth, but the gleaming sea-fog shrouded all detall. Suddenly, however, they became con- | sclous of a luminous gilding of the; mist close to the falling balloon, and at the same Instant the car bumped and swayed, bounding like some wild creature caught by the foot in a trap. There was a swishing of follage or pine needles, and a crackling of small branches. They were entangled In a tree. “Why, we're close to a house,” he sald to Western, whose back was turned to him as he worked. By this time Western had stopped chopping branches to glance over his shoulder, “By Jove, claimed. | “I can touch the stone ledge, just round the corner of the house wall," sald Christopher. ‘It's wet—there's a pool of—" “Water” was the word on his tongue; but, as he pulled back his hand and looked at it in the yellow haze of the lamgplight which mingled with the moon’8 rays, he drew in his breath quickly. ! “‘What's the matter?" asked West- ern. “Look,"” Christopher answered, in an odd voice, holding out his hand. Fingers and palm were dyed red, a wet red that glistened. Their lively tones were hushed now. Involuntarily they whispered. “Pooh! 1 know what you mean, but it can't be. A window sill. Why should—such things don't happen.” “All the same, I'm going to hang out from the car and try to twist round the corner far enough to see—"" ‘“‘Wait till T hang on to you, or you'll get & tumble.” Christopher leaned out, with one knee on the edge of the trapped car, one hand plunged iInto and grasping the thick-stemmed ivy. Hanging thus, he could see the window whence came the light; and as he looked, peering through the mist, a slight breeze sprang up and blew a fold of the white veil away. He could see round the corner and into the lighted window, but only a faint impression of what he saw there remained with him—a vague picture of an old-fashioned, oak-panelled room, with a great many books, and & long mirror opposite the window—for it was something in the window which caught and held his gaze. He saw It, and saw it repeated in the mirror, or, rather, saw there what he could see th no other way. A man's body hung over the win- dow sill, inert and lifeless. He had fallen backward and lay half out, his head and shoulders protruding over the stone ledge which Christopher had touched, the face upturned .and white in the mingling light of lamp and moon. There was a red stain on the fore- head, and the hair, which was dark and long, clung wet and matted over the brows., The lips were twisted into a terrible, three-cornered smile, and Christopher started back from it with a cry. “What did you see?" asked Western. Christopher told him. or heaven's sake, let's get out of ' Western stammered. As he exclaimed, something moved we are close,” he ex- work he would have been enchanted, near by, and a figure which had been to do for nothing, and while all three village youths clung grinning to the basket's edge the invited guest climbed over it in a luxurious nest stored with rugs, books, maps, food, a tea basket, and a few bottles of w e, ‘“When I say ‘Let go!' do it all to- gether,”” ordered the balloon's owner, as he pulled in his anchor and deftly festoon the rope round the car, Anyone who hangs on may get trans- lated to another sphere. Farewell forever. Now-—let go!" hiding among the battlements sprang up and ran towards the swaying bal- loon, Highly wrought as they were, at ,|first the two young men were struck with horror, as if beholding a spirit; but as the clear moonlight fell upon ,| the form, common sense came back and they knew this was no ghostly | vision. A girl in a white dress was hurry- ,| Ing along the flat roof, her arms out- stretched in a detaining gesture. “Save And they did let go with scared pre-| me!” she faltered, her voice broken ision. “Let's be happy as birds, sions of things in general. I'm Pau ‘Western— “I might have guessed that,” cut ' in Christopher. nner o ' week. Delighted to meet you. “You're the Western, is my name—Christopher Race-- it had been the Ace of Diamonds'"” "I suppose Ace of Hearts would have suited the case better?” _ “Never was in love In my life," said _ Christopher. “Though one has fan- course.’ cles, . “We're bobbing about,” sald West- ‘ern, “but I'll run her up higher and " see If we can't catch that breeze.” He began emptying sand out of a i but so far as Christopher could nothing happened except that the range sank out of sight and telling each other our names and impres-|effect of the moonlight, the big balloon race last As for me, the only race I have to my credit # 'Ace’ ~* they used to call me at college. Would by fear or pain. Whether or not it was partly the the girl 1| seemed to Christopher and Western the most beautiful creature they had ever seen. She had hair which the moon burn- ished to copper, and it fell in two long, thick ropes or braids over slim shoul- ders and young bosom. The white ra- diance which had pierced the blowing mist shone into her eyes, making them large and dark, and wonderful as well that mirror stars in black depths. "Oh, save me-——take me with you ~~whoever you are—wherever you go ~anywhere away from this awful house!” she begged of the strangers, as she came flying across the dark, flat expanse behind the battlements, And eagerly (Christopher Race and Paul Western put out their arms to reach and draw her into the car. the girl. A new puff of wind caught the balloon again, so that both men staggered and fell upon their knees. So great and so sudden was the strain that the branch which for a moment had arrested them broke with a sharp snap, and the balloon, already light- ened of ballast, was whirled away like a soap bubble before they had time to speak. In a second the white girl and the dark battlements had been swept out of sight. Western got to his feet and seized the valve cord, but Christopher, still on his knees, cried out a warn- ing, “Stop!" “Listen,"” sound?" Western paused with his hand on the cord, his ears alert, The balloon was in a boiling surf of snowy cloud, lit by the moon. They could see nothing save this glittering froth, but there was a sound louder and more ominous than the harp-like singing of the cordage. From below came at short, regular intervals a deep, reverberating boom, In his excitement Western had not heard, until Christopher compelled his attention, “The sea!" over the sea.' “Another moment and we should have been in it,” added Christopher. “Then that house must stand close to the shore,” Western said. We're being blown out to aren't we?” finished Christopher. “I'm afrald we are,” the other ad- he said, “what's that he exclaimed. “We're sea, a dark wall, and a voice hailed them in French. Both young men could speak the language, Race better than Western, and between them they explained that they were not burglars but balloonists; that they had crossed the Manche, and had found a resting place on the land of monsieur, of whom they begged assistance. Could he give them a cart to the nearest railway station? If he could, they would give him money, much money, in return. In five minutes more the mayor and the mayor’'s sons were all out of the house, and some went to gaze curious- ly at the deflated balloon, while others helped their father get ready the white-covered cart. Succor and protection for the Little Stranger were promised and the Eng- lishmen were informed that they had alighted within twelve kilometers of Havre. They dashed on to the quay as the last whistle blew for the de- parture of the night boat, and flung themselves across the gangway just as it was being hauled ashore. The journey back to England across a turbulent and noisy sea was a vul- gar experience compared to their flight with the wind among the stars. But as neither felt in the mood for rest, it gave them time to discuss de- talls of their premeditated quest. It was 8 in the morning when they touched English soil, and their first thought was to buy a newspaper, of which they scarcely let a paragraph at your mergcy. You wouldn't have | seen the girl if it hadn't been for me, | You might stand aside and let me pro- pose. Americans think nothing of asking a girl to marry us the first time we see her, if we really want her and some other fellow's likely to snatch her out of our possession. But an Englishman could never do the thing offhand like that. He—" ! ““Nonsense,” cut in Christopher. “I'll come to an agreement with you. If we { find the girl—" “When we find the girl. ETaR) “When we find her, the one who does the most towards saving her shall have the right to speak first. Do you agree?” “Yes,"” said Western, ment’s hesitation. Scarlet Runner had sped under the shadow of a ruined castle, and was nearing Ardwanage, when a train which had not yet gathered full speed after leaving the station ran towards them along the line, that here lay parallel to the road. Race had slowed down for a frightened horse, and he was in the act of putting on speed again when Western sprang up in the seat beside him. “Turn—as quick as | you can,” he stammered. ‘“‘Catch that i train. She's in it!” “She?” echoed Christopher, bewil- dered, but obeying. “‘She—the girl—my saw her.” “Our lost girl,” Christopher amend- | ed, and slipped in his four speed. “It Don't say after a mo- lost girl. 1 ‘THE GIRL DID NOT FALTER FOR AN INSTANT mitted. “Great Scot! T wouldn't have had this happen for anything!" “Is it so dangerous?" “Hang 'danger! 1 wasn’t thinking of myself-—or you either. I was thinking of the girl—that beautiful, that divine girl. We've lost her—deserted her, left her abandoned-—do you under- stand? We ocan’t get back to her. We don't know where she is. We can never find her again.,” “We must,” said Christopher. “She begged us to save her. From what, I wonder? What had happened? What was she afraid would still happen? What can be the secret of that terrible house?" Western tilted out another bag of sand. The clouds fell from under them as they shot up into more rarefied air. “The best thing we can hopée for now, 1 suppose,” he went on, “is to get to France, and then back again, to find her and the house, or to spend all we have and are in trying to do it. If we're to make this passage without shipwreck, we must travel high.” They were racing over a sea of steel which they could see sometimes through a hole in a torn carpet of cloud. Western did not say anything to discourage his guest; but, though he was a novice, he had heard bal- looning men talk since the sport came into fashion, and he knew that the English channel was wide, that they might never see the other side, be- cause the balloon might not have buoyancy enough to carry her pas- sengers across. So the night went on, and as the bal- loon held her own the adventure would have begun to seem commonplace, had it not been for the dark picture of the tragic house by the sea. There was nothing to do but to eat when they were hungry, to throw out ballast when the Little Stranger showed signs of. faltering, to light their lamps and consult the compass or the anemom- eter. After midnight the gale grew weary. They still hung over the sea, but far away shone a lamp like a fallen star. It was a lighthouse, Western said; and, though they lost the welcome gleam, it was not long after when they heard once more the thunderous booming of surf. “Land!" shouted Western. brought us safely across, after all, Below lies France-—Normandy, per- haps. Now's our chance, and we must take it or fare worse.” He pulled the valve-cord and they fell, thrilled with the wild joy of dan- ger and uncertainty as they peered over the edge of their fraid car-into the gulf of moonlight and shadow. The earth flew up at them, and not far off were a group of farm buildings, with a large pond beyond. Delay of a moment might mean disaster, for here was the place to alight—not on those pointed gables or in the shining sheet of water. Western opened wide the valve, the car came quietly to earth, and before she could bump or drag he tugged the red ripping cord and tore the Little Stranger from foot to crown. 'The gas gushed out, and folds of silk enveloped the two young men as the ballooh lost shape and collapsed. “Let her lie as she is," said Western coolly, as he scrambled out and extri- cated his companion. ‘“Our business is to get back to that girl," “‘She’s But fate came between them and 4 A square of light flashed yellow in g0 unregarded. But they learned noth- ing. So far, the battlemented house kept its secret; nevertheless, if for- tune did not favor them in one way, it did in another, for they discovered a train leaving Southampton almost immediately after the arrival, which would take them across country to Scarlet Runner. All night the expert balloonist had puzzled over the problem of distances and speed, trying to determine from the map of England how far and in what direction the Little Stranger had drifted after taking Race on board, before the sudden gale had subsided and dropped him, in a rising sea fog, at the lost house. Now, in obedience to Western's calculations, Scarlet Run- ner's bonnet was pointed upon a southeasterly course, slanting always toward the sea. When, well on in the afternoon, they came to Weymouth, taking the coast road when there was one, and, when they wandered irrelevantly else- where, exploring each side track which might lead to a house by the shore. So darkness fell, and all the searching and all the questionings had been in vain. It was useless to go on after nightfall, and in the sequestered hol- low of Lulworth cove they stopped till dawn beckoned them on. It seemed to Christopher that it would be a delicious romance to find and save her from the horror she had feared, to win her love and eventually marry her about the time that his rich relative should decide to leave him everything, thus making himself for- ever safe against a wife of his uncle's choosing. Therefore, when Western began to make some such remark, apropos of his own state of mind, Christopher frankly proclaimed his own intentions. “But I tell you the girl is mine,” iargued the other, surprised and dis- gusted, for he had taken Christopher's helpfulness for disinterested sympa- thy. “Why 1is she yours more tham mine?" argued ‘Race. “‘Because—I saw her first,” Western. “That would be difficult to prove,” said Christopher. “Anyhow, it was my balloon.” “I was your honored guest. Be- sides, if you hadn't thrown out sand, we could have stopped and taken her away. “1 laid first claim, You can't deny that. You should have spoken when 1 first told you how much I admired her. Oh, tby every rule, she's mine." “First catch your hare,” said Chris- topher. “What a simile! If only for that, you don't deserve her.” “So far as that's concerned, 1 don't suppose there's much to choose be- tween us."” “I wish I thought you were chaff- ing,” said the American, “I'm not.” “Then how's this thing to be de- cided ?" “By the girl-—when we find her.” “Yes. But one of us—the one. who gets ahead—is bound to have the best chance. Look here, I'm obliged to stick to your company, for I can't get on without your car; it would mean too much to delay now to wire some- where and try to hire an equally good one.” “There isn't such a thing" Christopher. “Well, one half as good, then. said said = Scarlet Runner can catch that train, and she's really in it, the first chance is mine—eh?" “Yes—yes, anything, if you'll only bring me to her,” gasped Western. “She was there—you may take my word. There's no one like her. Her face was at the open window, with the same expression on it as when she begged us to save her. Whatever the mystery is—whatever has happened since that night—she's horribly un- happy and frightened. It may be that it isn't too late to save her yet.” The smoke of the locomotive trailed its dark flag along the sky, and Scarlet Runnner hurled herself in pursuit. The heavy engine drawing its huge load could do forty miles an hour on an even track; the light car, clean and springy as a trained athlete, could sprint at least twenty miles faster on the road, but that road must be clear, and there came in the skill of the driver. Christopher born, not made. His eye saw and understood with the quickness of light. His hand and foot moved with automatic precision; his nerve was un- shaken. Western admired him, and for the moment compared the sport of ballooning unfavorably with that of motoring. “We shall do it!” cried Western; and then, round a turn, showed a railway crossing. A moment earlier, and the car would have shot through like an arrow; but Race had to jam the brake on with sudden force, or Scarlet Run- ner's bonnet would have crashed into the gates as they swung shut. 5 The car was ahead of the train at the crossing, and Western shouted an offer of ten pounds to the gate keeper if he would open for a second and let them rush by; but the man shook his head, and they had to wait, not only to see the train go past, but to sit chafing while the huge caterpillar length of a luggage train followed, crawling along the other line. Later it was shunted onto a siding, and blocked the way for five of the longest minutes either young man had ever known. The race was over and they had lost. It was easy enough to learn from the gate keeper that the train they had chased was bound for London, but, as it would stop at four stations before reaching its destination, it was impossible to guess at which the girl was most likely to get out. “Ready to go on,” said Christopher. “We won't go on. We stop here,” asnwered the American excitedly. “Read this.” “Murder or Suicide of a Baronet. Master of Abbey Court, Dorsetshire. Beautiful Young Girl Accused, and Arrested by Police While Trying to Escape.” Christopher read on, eagerly ab- sorbing the sensational version of the mystery ‘which to him and his com- panion had seemed impenetrable. Sir Digby Plantagenet was an ec- centric middle-aged baronet, claiming descent from kings. He was a child- less widower, living alone save for two old servants, in a desolate but beautiful house, dating from the days of Henry VII. Though rich enough to keep a generous household, he lived almost as a miser, and saw no one until a year ago, when he sent for a daughter of hie dead brother, a young girl, Margaret Plantagenet, whom he bad been educating in a French con- Race was a driver vent school. The girl had come to live with her uncle, and eight or nine months after her arrival both servants —husband and wife—had left The gossip of the countryside was that Sir Digby's growing eccentricity had been that, having hoped that their master's fortune might become theirs by his will, jealousy of the beautiful niece had finally compelled them to give no- tice. For several months the young girl had acted as her uncle's housekeeper, without assistance. No servants were engaged, no visitors received; no one three privileged tradesmen from | Marne, the country town, ten miles distant. The day before the publica- tion of the report a Marne grocer had called at Abbey Court with his cart, as he was in thé habit of doing twice a week, to bring milk and other stores which Miss Plantagenet used in her housekeeping. His kuocking re- mained unanswered, and at last he discovered that a side-door was un- i locked. Fearing some tragedy in the | strange household, he entered, cried Miss Plantagenet's name, but had no answer. He then ventured on an ex- ploration, and finally made a dreadful discovery; the body of Sir Digby hung half out of a window invisible from the back of the house where the grocer been shot in the breast and in the head, though no weapon was to be seen, and Miss Plantagenet, the only other occupant of the house, had dis- appeared. The grocer at once noti- ’fled the police at Marne and search | was made for the missing girl. Late in the evening she was found at Wey- mouth, in a state of collapse, at a small hotel near the railway station, where she had arrived that morning. She was arrested on suspicion of mur- | Jering her eccentric uncle, whose heir- ess she was believed to be, but her weakness and hysterical condition had prevented her from making a state- ment. A doctor had, however, been called in and announced that Miss Plantagenet would probably be well enough next day to be taken back by train as far as Marne, where she would have to appear at the coroner's in- quest. “She's here now,” said Western, “By this time the inquest has probably he- gun. Those men I saw must have been policemen in charge of the poor child—the brutes! We must go to the | inquest ourselves, as quick as we can get there. Only think; if I hadn't | bought that paper we’'d. have been off to the next place. This time I am the | Ace of Trumps.” “You wouldn't have got to Marne if it hadn't been for me,” replied Christopher, and Western had to ad- mit that this was true. ‘“So far it's a tie,” he said, “and the grand test is still to come.” The people of the garage where Christopher had bought his petrol knew all about the “murder” (as they prematurely termed it) and were en- chanted to point out the way to the inn where the coroner's inquest was at that moment being held. According to public opinion, Miss Plantagenet had had motive enough to kill her uncle. He was a man of vindictive temper, an expert in the art of irritating and torturing those dependent upon him. Some said that he was mad and for the last year or two he had been feared by everyone forced to come in contact with him. Ever since a fall from a horse in hunt- ing six or seven years ago he had been peculiar, and had grown more so ev- ery year. Little was known in Marne about seen and was considered beautiful. As for the servants, Mr. and Mrs. Honey, they had never had a good word to say for the young girl since they left Abbey Court to live at Marne. They described her as an ambitious, designing creature, whose one idea had been to get Sir Digby into her power, but, then, they were prejudiced, as she had accused them of pilfering, and it was through her that they had lost their soft berth, or so everyone sup- posed, Their evidence would cer- tainly go against Miss Plantagenet at the inquest. Mrs. Honey had told a friend last night, after the news came, that an old-fashionde pistol kept by Sir Digby had disappeared from its place soon after his niece came to Ab- bey Court, and probably the young lady knew where it was. Besides, if she were not guilty, why had she run away to Weymouth, instead of letting the police know what had happened? Christopher Race and Paul Western listened to these scraps of informa- tion, for they wished to know some- thing about the case before going to t the ceroner’s inquest. The more they knew, the more clearly would the: derstand how to go to work, they id to each other. But five minutes of such gossip sufficed, and then they were off in Scarlet Runner for the Bell Buoy inn. A crowd stood before the door; the bar was thronged and men packed shoulder to shoulder, talking in low, eager tones, blocked the dim hall, but Christopher and Western contrived to squeeze through as far as a door kept by a big policeman. They knew that behind that closed door the coroner's inquest was in full swing. “We must be allowed Western said imperatively. This would not have been Race's way, but Western had taken the ini- tiative. “Impossible, sir,” replied the repre- sentative of the law. “Room’s crammed. There isn't space for one more, let alone twe.” “But we're important urged Christopher. The big man grinned. “If I'd let in every man Jack—and every woman Jill, for the matter o' that—who said they were important witnesses, 1 should have let in half the town,” he returned calmly. “They've got wit- nesses enough in there and too many, maybe, for that poor girl.” “If you mean Miss Plantagenet,” said Western quickly, "I intend to marry her.” As he spoke he looked defiantly at Christopher, who, though audacious himself, was astonished at this audac- ity. 5 The manner of the policeman changed. *“Oh, very well, sir, if you are Miss Plantagenet's intended hus- band that alters the case. You had better write that on a card and I'll send it in. Then you and your friend wiil probably be admitted.” Thus Western had in an instant be- come, of the pair, the person of para- mount importance. Triumphant, he drew out a visiting card and scribbled something upon it. The policeman opened the door wide enough to pass this to a comrade, and a few min- utes later the coroner's officer was ushering the two young men into the crowded coffee room. They were led to a position near the long table, headed by the coroner. and their pulses .quickened as they saw the girl, found again, and more beautiful than on the night when they had lost her. She had asked to make a statement, to pass,™ witnesses,” too much for them, but others said| ever came to the house except two or | entered. The unfortunate baronet had | Miss Plantagenet, but she had been | and, though advised by the coroner to | keep silence, had persisted, pleading that she had nothing to conceal. She was speaking as Christopher and Western took their places, and, seeing them, so bright a color sprang to her white face that the young men knew they had been recognized. . The girl did not falter for an in- stant, however, but went on nervously, excitedly, denying that she knew any- thing of the old-fashioned pistol kept in her uncle's study—beyond hearing from Honey that it had disappeared from its place. She did not take it; she had been very unhappy in her uncle's house; they had not had a quarrel on the night of his death, but there had been a distressing scene. “He called me into his study,” she went on, “and said cruel things; that I was careless of his interests; that I was altogether a failure, and that I didn't deserve a penny of his money. I told him if he thought I was staying | for that I would go; if I hadn’t hated | to leave him alone in his gloomy house 1 would have gone long ago. Then hg flew into one of his rages, which al- ways frightened me dreadfully, and made me believe that he really was a lunatic, as Honey and his wife used to say. This was the worst I had seen. Often he had struck—now he threat- ened to kill me. He said rather than 1 should leave his house and carry evil reports he would shoot me. I rushed out of the room screaming, for I believed he meant to keep his word, and T believe it still. I didn't know where to hide from him, for the lock on my door, as on most of the doors, was broken. Then I thought of the roof—a flat roof, with battlements—and I ran through many passages till 1 came to the ladder- i like stairway that leads to it. I | climbed up, trembling, for I could hear my uncle calling my name and | slamming doors. At the top I pushed back the rusty bolt and slipped out. I expected him to find me, and I had | not been hiding long when I heard two shots. 1 supposed he had fired | them to terrify me. After that all | was silent. 1 decided to wait, if I | were not discovered, till dawn, when | T would slip down, hoping my uncle might be asleep. I planned to go to Weymouth, because it was a Dbig town, and I knew a girl there who ! used to be at school with me in | France. 1 didn’t realize how weak my | experience had made me. I meant | to look for her. I never expected to | feel so ill that 1 should have to go | to a hotel or faint in the street. Oh, that awful railway journey to Wey mouth: i “This is_irrelevant,” broke in the coroner. “You walked to a more dis- tant railway station than Marne and caught the first train to Weymouth, before Sir Digby's fate was known. | But do you mean ‘the jury to under- | stand that you remained on the roaf | all night without being aware that your uncle was dead?” “I do,” answered the girl. “I dared not go down. Once, though, T hoped to be taken away." “While I was on the roof,” she went on faintly, in her uneasiness giv- ing an air of artificiality to her state- ment, “soon after dark it must have been, a balloon came close to the house. Two young men were' in it, | gentlemen, and I begged them to save | me. Their balloon was caught some- how in a tree, and they were so near for a minute that I hoped they could take me with them. They must have seen how frightened 1 was, and [ | think they meant to help, but a wind came and freed the balloon, whirling it out of sight, so they had no time.” A titter of incredulous laughter among the onlookers interrupted her, and was quickly checked. But it had not died before Western, ignoring the formalities of a coro- ner's inquest, stepped forward. “They are here as witnesses,” he exclaimed. “We are the two balloonists, my friend and I, and we can corroborate every word Miss Plantagenet has said. We can prove her innocence; for if she had wmurdered her uncle she » would have known that his dead body | was lying half out of his window; that we had probably seen it there, and she would have hidden herself instead of rushing toward us and beg- ging that we would take her away.” Twice the coroner strove to stop Western, but the tide of his indignant eloquence was not to be stemmed. Margaret Plantagenet, flushed and grateful, moved aside, and the Amer- fcan was sworn as Itness. “You and your friend never saw }Mlss Plantagenet until the night in | question?” the coroner asked. [EE N = | “Then"—very slowly and distinctly —~-*“how comes it that you should have declared, on your visiting card which you sent in to me, that you were en- gaged to marry that young lady?”’ At this question there was a sur in the room, and the jury gazed at West- ern, but he answered, unabashed— “T didn't say T was engaged to her. If you will look again, you'll see that 1 said I intended to marry her. 1 wrote that so that T might have a chance to come in and give my evi- dence. But it is true. T do hope to marry Miss Plantagenet—hope it be- | yond everything. T shall propose to her on the first opportunity, and tell her that I fell in love at first sight with the sweetest, purest, most inno- cent girl I ever met. That girl a mur- deress! My friend and T would have been fools even to think of such a thing—when we'd seen her face and heard her voice. I can prove every word I am going to say about my balloon, which took us over to Nor- mandy before we could descend. The first thing we did was to catch a train back and scour the country in my friend's automobile looking for the lost girl and the lost house; we couldn’t locate them exactty. We learned what we wanted to know only by the paper today. We were never nearer the house of Abbey Court than being caught in a tree; we didn't de- scend; the dead body in the window was a mystery to us. But I would wager my dearest possession—which is my balloon—that the pistol you were talking about dropped out of the dead man’s hand when he had shot himself in his frenzy, and fell into the bushes under the window where he lay. 1 advise you to send and look for it. So frank, so_ enthusiastic, and so handsome was Paul Western, the fa- mous_balloonist, whose name nearly everybody knew, that he carried all before him. Perhaps it was largely due to his evidence and the fact that his belief in the girl's innocence was unassailable, that the coroner’s jury brought in its verdict at last, “Suicide whilst temporarily insane.” Christopher admired Paul Western more than ever, freely admitted that his was the “first right,” fairly won, and after all was glad to think that he had helped him win out. And Western did win the girl; it would also have been strange if Chris- topher had not been asked to be best man at the wedding. | (Another Adventure Next Week)