OCR Text |
Show rctyt; ruui vL BLACK iH Irl- SOMBREROf ' WMkfkhr.x IFFORD KNIGHT I i -front of the house a fliwer ed weakly as if impatient t fr slow coming. And there w, , climbing out of a most ar -contraption. It looked a3 if"?''' been stolen from a junk yZK jaggd rent was in the top of which waved grotes,, ' the light stir of air. The ! 6 had died with a hollow cou-T we rounded the corner 0j ; house, and the villain had clir from under the wheel and twisting the crank and gnJ'4 profanely -as if to torture it ' another try at life. "Pay the ' gentleman for , , said Elsa to Dwight. "It's b! dollars and I haven't it." the man had gone roaring jc cently off down the hill she';' plained : "He was such an inw man; I rode with him instead r' (Continued on page five) in m rpid died it meant about two SndreT thousand dollars to me. -Ira reae one, to be S-oh fhadTlve then, too." tr -id Dwight. "What's mine is yours. That's not what I meant, dar- ""Whafs your motive, Margar-et?" Margar-et?" inquired Rogers. "Jealousy." "Jealousy!" echoed Dwight. "You don't mean ?" "I mean "just that." Margarets voice was firm. "I was so jealous of Kitty Chatfield I could have kiAdd?sturbance from the driveway drive-way interrupted our conversation We went around to see what it meant but before we reached the Ml am namely, an ever, for what I am ut humble professor of ing . erature." didnt mean "Sorry, Hunt. anything." nwieht; it's not "No apologies, . important. What were 50a goi t0 say, tho"? a re. Jnbt Nichols' man- neLhI've thought at times P fflttv Chatfield's death, what since Kitty unimaginative embarrassment an ummes sleuth could cause me. You see, rmvrdarlin" Marga-j :Zt o survivorship. It doesn't lrnow how the arrangement came aboututwhenKuC managed in a year or two to escape es-cape to school in the East. And after that-well, there was the baby. She was seventeen by tnai tlBut who is there that could possibly want to make away with Aunt Kitty if that is what really happened?" I asked, moved some-what some-what by what Huntoon Rogers had said before Margaret came out. , Nobody could think of a reply at once, then Dwight's chair stirred stir-red and he cleared his throat reluctantly. re-luctantly. . "Well," 'he began, ' that, 01 course, is why there are detectiveslike detec-tiveslike Hunt Rogers' "Not detective, Dwight," Rogers Rog-ers interrupted quickly. "I'll admit that I've been drawn into more than my share of affairs of that kind. I prefer to be known, how- CHAPTER I We were agreed, that warm October Oc-tober evening as we sat gazing down from the hills upon the twinkling lights of Los Angeles, that the story of Elsa Chatfield should be written. Elsa, we thniirrht tvnified something eter- . 4 "I do'nt like the piano and the singing. Not much, anyhow," she said. "Nobody can sing these horrible hor-rible modern songs, if they really can be called songs. Did I interrupt inter-rupt you, darlings? Forgive me and go right on talking." "We were just talking, dear. was dead. Either Elsa didn't like' Mexico or Sam thought it best for her to be up here, she did visit him, though, occasionally. Anyway, Any-way, Elsa had to move in with Aunt Kitty and go on listening to Aunt Kitty talking, talking. Poor Elsa! She was twelve then, and Speculating about woman,' said -Dwight, lighting a fresh cigarette. ciga-rette. "We mentioned Elsa Chatfield Chat-field and then came to rest upon Aunt Kitty." "Lovely old cat," said Margaret. "Did you know her, Hunt?" "No, Margaret," replied Rogers. "A plump, sleek tabby who sat a lifetime on silk cushions over in Pasadena, then at the end sank her claws in Elsa and died. She ought to have had a love affair and a baby!" Dwight blew a cloud of ghostly smoke into the shadows and said that Elsa's aunt had been in love once. Margaret was incredulous. "You didn't know Sam Chatfield Chat-field Elsa's father did you, Hunt?" asked Margaret, turning to Rogers. Huntoon Rogers said that he had not. "I was right in . thinking that you came into our circle after Sam fled. He was a small, round, reddish man who quite remarkably had no egotism. Dwight, I think, is a little taller nal in the spirit of American youth something so fascinating to us older individuals that it should be set down as a part of the permanent record of the American scene. There was a difference of opinion, opin-ion, however, as to where the story should begin. Dwight Nichols Nich-ols was for omitting all mention of Aunt Kitty and starting in boldly with the baby. "Babies are always good to open op-en with. New life, you know. Everything Ev-erything before them. The world and the devil. Of course, I'm not a writer, Barry, as you are; I'm only a sportsman." Huntoon Rogers has since denied de-nied that he foresaw even the smallest part of the story which began that night in the hills overlooking over-looking the vast metropolitan area of Los Angeles and had its end far down the West Coast of Mexico. Mex-ico. And, of course, Dwight Nichols Nich-ols and I were merely talking in thn nir when we agreed that the than Sam. Anyway, he bounced like a rubber ball when he walked and he was something in a bank in Pasadena. "Sam Chatfield sat behind a huge mahogany desk all day and said no. That's an awfully hard sort of job, don't you think?" she said seriously. "For just imagine men coming with ambition and hopes, or in desprate straits about their finances and needing money, and having to say no to them. Any decent person would feel it dreadfully. And, of course, Sam did, because he was sl decent sort, you know. He simply clutched decency to himself with all the passion of a fierce new love. Of course, to make up for it, Sam had to say yes when he was away from the bank, and so he never said no to anything that con- story of Elsa Chatfield should be written, for the story then was only about to begin. "You know, Barry," Dwight said, looking far off over the vast meadow of twinkling lights below us, "I thought once that I understood under-stood women. But that was when I was younger. I could have done justice to Elsa then." Margaret Nichols at this moment mo-ment came out and joined us, sitting sit-ting on the top step with her cigarette which she smoked lazily. It was one of those rare nights in California when one could sit out of doors comfortably and her bare arms and throat seemed to smoulder smoul-der whitely in the half light which shone from the livingroom win--dows. There was a quality of ex-quisiteness ex-quisiteness about Margaret that pvnlninprl DwiVht he had a Das- sion for the exquisite, ad Margaret Mar-garet loved him devotdly. Margaret Marga-ret now desired our company. V j Black Sombrero By Clifford Knight WNU Features. (Continued from page four) in the shiny car the other taxi man had. I like intense people. It was bumpy, but there-was moonlight, moon-light, and I didn't mind." She shook me warmly by the hand, murmured Huntoon Rogers' name when Margaret introduced him; and then, with her arms linked in mine and Dwight's most confidingly, confid-ingly, we went toward the house. "But Where's your car, Elsa?" asked Dwight. "I sent it this morning to Jimmy the Cheese." She stopped short . I with a burst of laughter con- Reived in a sudden little ecstacy of humor. "Fancy! I never thought of calling him that before! be-fore! And I've known him for years, too. To Mr. James Chese-bro, Chese-bro, Dwight, trustee," she said pompously. Freeing her arms she drew in the air before her own beautiful figure a great stomach and strutted in the grass. "He and I are through with each other now. We don't have to hate each other any longer. We are both glad, of course. Aunt Kitty cuts me loose today. I'm on my own." There was an exuberance, exuber-ance, an elation in her voice. The fact was thrilling to her. Dwight already had explained the arrangement. There had been no money she could count on from her father after he went to Mexico; Mexi-co; Aunt Kitty had assured her expenses. But at her death Elsa had been disinherited. "She gave her the income from the estate for a year from the date of her death," Dwight had said, "knowing that Elsa ought to save something out of it, but darn well confident she wouldn't." Sounds of laughter came from the house as we mounted the steps and burst in upon the others. I lost, of course, the soft touch of Elsa's hand upon my arm and the comfort of .her nearness to me, me " She stopped in vague alarm She had not spoken the truth. The process of her though was visible in her face. "Except the clothes on my back." Dismay was in her eyes. "And " She stood up and tugged first at her cuffs, then at the shoulders of her dress. "I'll not keep these any longer." "Do them all up in a nice package, pack-age, Dwight, and send them ,to-morrow ,to-morrow to Mr. Chesebro, with love from Elsa. Be sure to put in the love." She smiled down upon Dwight as he gathered the small bundle, one tawny, beautifullly tanned arm pointing to where the ring had rolled. "And, Margaret, dear, please get me one of your old suits for a working girl." Margaret arrived instantly with a heavy apricot negligee and the working girl suit was searched out within the seclusion of Margaret's Mar-garet's bedroom. Huntoon Rogers is a large man probably six f et tall and with a frame in proportion, He has mild blue eyes, such as I have never seen elsewhere; his ears are prominent, as is his nose, the latter lat-ter not to his disadvantage. The blond hair is beginning to thin on top. He looked up at me after a few moments and spoke so quietly that nobody else in the room could hear him. "She hated her Aunt Kitty, I didn't she? Bitterly." i thor's imagination of yours, what it means to be free! Free of Aunt Kitty and the centuries of 'No' and 'Cannot'! It's freedom, Barry, when I thought freedom had forsaken for-saken me." (To Be Continued) ror sne new lo emrjra.ee una ui the girls among the crowd of young people making merry in the livingroom. But not, however, before she had tossed to me over her shoulder the urgent command, "Barry, don't go away tonight without me." I have no doubt that Jimmy the Cheese, as Elsa called him that night, was relieved that the departed de-parted Aunt Kitty finally had cut loose her niece. An old ladies' home, even though it were filled top and bottom with tea-and-toast old ladies, was a much easier task for a dignifid administrator, almost middle aged, than just Elsa. She had sent him her expensive ex-pensive motor car . that morning, and a letter explaining, "You're aware that Aunt Kitty didn't expect ex-pect me to have a cent left today. to-day. So I'm not disappointing her. I can't think of keeping anything my dear aunt's money has paid for." "And I haven't," said Elsa from her chair beside the piano that evening she joined us at Dwight and Margaret's. "Not a penny or anything her money has given "There's no doubt of it." He went on playing. He displayed dis-played remarkable skill. If I had not stood watched the dexterity of his left hand, I'd have thought he was playing a two-handed composition. com-position. "What did Aunt Kitty die of?" "An overdose of morphine." His flying fingers executed a long run. "Was she an addict?" "Yes." "Self administered?" . he inquired, in-quired, finishing the piece with a restful chord. "The police said yes; the district dis-trict attorney's office, as you are aware, has doubts." "It's a stone rolled away from the tomb," said Elsa, full of classical clas-sical allusions, her quiet voice devoid, de-void, however, of the theatrical. "It's Tantalus fed at last and Sisyphus at the top of the hill. The dead hand has let go its terrible ter-rible grip." She drew her head back to breathe immensely of the moonlit moon-lit night. "Barry, oh, you can't imagine, even with that trick au- |