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Show gK0X0XXg I My Client's Queer Case 6 By Augustus Goodrich Sherwin f 0CCX (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.) "A barefooted bride in a way, eh?" I intimated to my old college chum, Roy Dacre. He flushed slightly. We were still close friends, five years after graduation gradu-ation and drifting into new life channels. chan-nels. He had inherited a fortune and had not gone into a profession, although al-though he made a feint at carrying on the real estate business of his deceased de-ceased - father, which really meant looking after the family investments. Dacre was about the only one ot my old friends who particularly cultivated cul-tivated me. There was a reason. I had broken all Intellectual trammels In the opinion of my college associates, asso-ciates, had placed myself beyond the select social pale by disdaining the respectable calling of the law and engaging en-gaging in the detective line. It had always fascinated me. I made a success suc-cess at the start in a big bank mystery. mys-tery. I was something of a scribbler, and I fancied that eventually my experience ex-perience might lead to my becoming an expert writer on criminology. "A barefooted bride? Yes, just that, If necessary," spoke Dacre, a trifle re-sentlngly. re-sentlngly. "What of it? Poor, obscure ob-scure but an angel! Between some pampered spoiled lady of fashion and this sweet wildwood flower, who would hesitate that valued innocence, the assurance of fidelity and love. Yes, for I love her. I believe Elsa Warren returns the sentiment. I am going to marry her if she will have me." I studied my client and friend for a minute or two to decide that he was fully resolved. He had ever been an erratic, willful fellow, doing odd things in violation of prevailing ethics, generally right in his deduction, deduc-tion, always right in his motives. I wondered what his aristocratic friends would say about this new resolution of his. "I have told you my story from beginning be-ginning to end," he added, "as I would She Seemed to Feel It a Duty to Remain Re-main With the Lonely, Bereaved Old Man. do to no other person. I need your professional assistance. Can I have It?" "In other words, you wish me to find this Reuben Thorpe and his stepdaughter, step-daughter, Elsa Warren." "Precisely." "I will think it over this evening and let you know in the morning," I answered, and with that my visitor departed. There, was -a good deal to think over. Briefly, Dacre, while hunting in a wild part of the Lake Superior country, had tustained a bad fall from a cliff-side. He had lain helpless and isolated half of the day and all of one night, unable to climb up the steep incline. He had been discovered discov-ered by a girl whose whole appearance appear-ance suggested some wild mountain maid. Her name was Elsa Warren and she uvea wun ner steplather, Reuben Thorpe, a hunter he proclaimed himself, him-self, but not averse to assisting border bor-der smugglers at times. He was a aurly, unsociable old fellow, but with one great redeeming feature in his warped nature he idolized Elsa as he had loved her dead mother. She seemed to feel it a duty to remain with the lonely, bereaved old man. In her presence all his rudeness seemed to disapperr Poor, obscure as they were, the gi;l had grown up communing commun-ing only with nature, ardently fond of books. Th.se had refined her nature, na-ture, and these her stepfather always provided, no matter ho-w poony his desultory vocation paid him. For a month Dacre was laid up at the humble cottage home of Elsa, rear a little town named Clyde. The purity and freshness of his faithful nurse had enraptured him. He made an honest, earnest declaration of love. Elsa had rjlu.'.hed and trembled. Her stepfather, coming in, flew into a passion. pas-sion. He drove Dpcre forcibly from the place. The next morning Dacre found the little hut deserted, Elsa and Thorpe had disappeared. For a month he sought them without with-out avail. Now he had come to me, believing that his presence in the district dis-trict .would cause Thorpe to remain in concealment. Twice Thorpe has been seen in the last week once in a range of hills near the coast, once running out in the lake in his launch but at a distance and speeding to cover when hailed. These facts 1 verified within a few hours after my arrival at Clyde. Dacre had searched the hills in vain. I wasted no time in that direction. It was the man who had seen Thorpe in the launch to whom I paid the most attention. He was a fisherman and he was positive of his identification of the man I was after. "You see," he observed to me, "there are one or two charges against Thorpe for violating the game laws, and of course he is under cover to evade arrest. With a steam craft, though, you can make up your mind he won't take much to over-country over-country rambling." "That looks reasonable," 1 acceded. "Where did l.e disappear to when you hailed him the other day?" "Between Point of Rocks and the Bay, as we call it. There's a mile stretch. Somewhere along there he disappeared. Cave or a secret path up those steep cliffs, I don't know, but when I ran in shore there was no sign of either craft or man' "You are sure it was Thorpe?" "Humph! I guess so. That yellow sweater and red fez of his are not to be' mistaken," was the confident reply. re-ply. I secured a small row boat and spent the better part of two succeeding succeed-ing days on the lake. I particularly hovered about the points of location designated. It was late in the afternoon and I was midway between Point of Rocks and the Bay, when I saw a light gaso line launch making from the open water wa-ter for shore. I saw, too, the man in charge yellow sweater, red fez. I was on my way to Clyde, for the sky had become overcast and a sudden stiff breeze threatened. "My man. Reuben Thorpe, sure as fate!" I breathed. I steadied the yawl as best I could. The little launch was headed for shore straight as an arrow. I sat spellbound. It was curdling. At full speed it seemed to crash into a great mass of grim gray rock and disappear! disap-pear! Particularly had I noticed a prominent promi-nent chalky line In the rock directly where the launch had vanished. 1 doubted not that I could keep it in sight and took up my oars to start direct for the spot. I was off in my calculations. A tempest of wind drove one oar from my grasp. The same fierce source drove me landwards land-wards with incredible rapidity. As I neared the frowning wall of rock, I prepared to jump to evade being dashed against it. To my infinite in-finite amazement the yawl dove into a soft, yielding surface. It was a canvas curtain painted to resemble a rocky surface on its outside out-side and the deception discoverable only at close contact! Just beyond this masked entrance was a cavelike apartment. There Thorpe and his stepdaughter had found refuge. I lingered unsuspected until I learned the situation. The poor girl was pining for her lover, but her stepfather was arranging to go far off to some isolated spot witli the morrow. His great contention seemed to be that her suitor was too high above her to mean really to wed her. But of that he was convinced, when later that night I sent for my client and led him to the cave. What came of it all? Happiness complete. Dacre gave up society, time-serving friends, hollow plans for fame. In a quiet hamlet he built a pretty home. Thorpe was welcome there, and r.s time went on some of the roughness left his rugged nature, and he became a really presentable member of he contented group of three. |