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Show The Strange Case of Cavendish By RANDALL PARRISH Author of " The Devil's Own," "My Lady of the North," Etc. I Copyright by Randall Parriah "A good hunch," WUlls replied, taking tak-ing her arm. . In their enthusiasm they upset the custom of the office and broke Into Farrlss' fullest hour. Into his Impatient Impa-tient ears they dinned the story of what they had Just learned, ending up by passing him the telegram. For a mere Instant he glanced at them, then his lips began to move. "Beaton Ned Ned Beaton Ned Beaton," he mused, and then sat bolt upright In his chair, while he banged the desk with a round, hard fist "You've run across something. I know that name. I know the man. Ned Beaton Is a 'gun,' and he pulled his first Job when I was doing 'police' In Philadelphia for the Record. Well, well, my children, this la splendid! And what next?" "But, Mr. Farrlss, where Is her put in Stella Donovan. "Where was the message sent from? Colorado, yes, but where In Colorado? That's the thing to find out." "I thought It might be the last word In the message Haskell," ventured Willis. Farrlss, seizing an atlas, thumbed It until he found a map of Colorado. Together To-gether the three pored over It. ' "There It Is!" Stella Donovan cried suddenly. "Down toward the bottom. Looks like desert country." "Pretty dry place for Celeste," laughed Willis. "I might call her up and kid her about It If" Farrlss looked at him sourly. "You might get a raise In salary," he snapped sharply. "If you'd keep your mind on the Job. What you can do Is call up, say you're the detective bureau, bu-reau, and ask carelessly about Beaton. That'll throw a scare Into her. You've got her number?" "Riverside 7683," Willis said In a businesslike voice. He disappeared Into the clattering local room, to return a moment later white of face, bright of eye, and with lips parted. "What's the dope?" Farrlss shot at him. "Nothing I" cried the excited young man. "Nothing except that fifteen minutes ago Celeste La Rue kissed the Beecher npnrtments good-by and, with trunk, puff and toothbrush, beat It." "To Haskell," added the city editor, edi-tor, "or my hair Is pink. And by heaven, I believe there's a story there. What's more, I believe we can get It It's blind chnnee, but we'll take It." "Let Mr. Willis" began Miss Donovan. Dono-van. - "Mind your own business, Stella," commanded Farrlss, "and see that your hat's on straight. Because within with-in half an' hour you're going to draw on the night cashier for five hundred . dollars and pack your little portmanteau portman-teau for Haskell. Work guardedly; query us when you have toj be sure of your facts, and consign your soul to God. Do I see you moving?" And when Farrlss looked again he did. . : , . Dougherty. Cavendish took away a copy of It In his pocket And, Mr. Farrlss, I got something else, too Enrlght and young John Cavendish are In communication further. 1 saw him leaving Tnrlght's office all excited. Following my hunch, I cultivated Miss Henly, Enright's stenographer, and learned that the two had an altercation alterca-tion and that It was evidently over some document." Stella Donovan began speaking now : "Celeste La Rue, the blonde of the Revue, has got some kind of hold on John Cavendish. It Isn't love, either; It's something stronger. He Jumps when she holds the hoop." "La Rue's mixed up In this deeply, too," Willis cut In, "While she was playing with young Cavendish and seeing him almost dally, the lovely Celeste was also In communication with guess who!" "Enrlght?" Farrlss ventured. "Exactly Enrlght," he concluded, lighting his half-smoked cigarette. "Well," the city editor tapped his desk ; "you two have done pretty well, so far. You've got considerable dope. Now, what do you make of It?" "It may be a dream," Willis said, smiling, "but here Is the way I stack It up. The night after he quarreled with John, Frederick Cavendish called in Enrlght and made a will, presumably presum-ably cutting John off with practically nothing. "Immediately after Frederick's departure, de-parture, Enrlght calls Carlton's cafe and talks to John Cavendish, who had been dining there with Celeste La Rue. It is reasonable to suppose that he told him of the will. Less than five hours afterward Frederick Cavendish Is found dead In his apartments. .i o "Cii HI Miss Stella Donovan, meet Mr. Jim Westcott. (TO BE CONTINUED.) . "ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND" Synopsis. Frederick Cavendish, New York man of wealth, receives a letter from an old friend, Jim Westcott, urging him to come at once to Colorado. Deciding to go, he employs a lawyer, Patrick Enrlght, En-rlght, to draw up a will leaving most of his estate to charity, with a mere pittance to John Cavendish, his cousin and only relative, a dissolute dis-solute youth. That night Frederick Cavendish Is murdered In his apartments. apart-ments. No will being found, John Cavendish inherits the estate. Two months later Enrlght Informs John Cavendish of the existence of the will. CHAPTER II Continued. 2 Cavendish leaped to his feet his hand gripping his cane. "You damned black " "Walt!" and Enrlght arose also. "Not so loud, please ; your voice might be heard in the outer office. I said my services would cost you a hundred thousand dollars. Take the proposition proposi-tion or leave It, Mr. John Cavendish." "But but," the other stammered, all courage leaving him, "I haven't the money." "Of course not," the threat on En-right's En-right's face chnnging to a smile. "But the prospects that you will have are unusually good. I am quite willing to speculate on your fortunes. A memoranda memo-randa Tor legnl services due one year from date such as I have already drawn up and bearing your signature, will be quite satisfactory. Glance over the Items, please; yes, sit here at the table. Now, If you will sign that there will be no further cause for you to feel any uneasiness this line, pi ease." Cavendish grasped the penholder In , hl.s fingers, and signed. It was the not of a man dazed, half stupefied, unable to control his actions. In a way It was a confession of guilt, an acknowledgement of his fear of exposure, ex-posure, yet he felt utterly incapable of resistance. Enrlght unlocked the door, and projected his head outside, comprehending clearly that the proper time to strike was while the Iron was hot. Calling Miss ITenly, one of his stenographers, ste-nographers, he made her an odlclal witness wit-ness to the document and the signature signa-ture of John Cavendish. Not until ten minutes later when he was on the street did it occur to John Cavendish that the carbon copy of the will, together with the rough notes in his cousin's handwriting, still remained re-mained In Enright's possession. Vainly Vain-ly he tried to force himself to return nnd demand them, but his nerve failed, fail-ed, and he shuffled away hopelessly In the hurrying crowds. I 1 As Frnncols Valois trudged along the night streets toward his rooming house he came face to face with a trim young woman in a smart blue serge. "Oh, hello!" she cried pleasantly, pleasant-ly, bringing up short. Then seeing the puzzled look upon the valet's face, she said : "Don't you remember me? I'm Miss Donovnn of the Star. I came up to the npnrtments the morning of the Cavendish murder with one of the boys." Vulois smiled warmly; men usually did for Miss Donovan. "I remember," he said dolorously. The girl sensed some underlying sorrow in his voice and with professional profes-sional skill learned the cause within a minute. Then, because she believed thnt there might be more to be told, and because she was big-hearted and Interested in every one's troubles, she urged him to accompany her to a near-by restaurant and pour out his heart while she supped. Lonely and disheartened, Valois accepted gladly and within half an hour they were seated at a tiny table in an Italian cafe. "About your discharge?" she queried after a time, "I was not even asked to accompany Mr. Frederick's body," he burst out, "even though I had been with him a year. So I stayed In the apartment to straighten things, expecting to be retained in John Cavendish's service. I even did the work In his apartments, but when he returned and saw me there he seemed to lose his temper, wanted to know why I was hanging around, and ordered me out of the place. Flung money at me, he did, told me to get out, that he never wanted to see me again. Since then I have tried for three weeks to find work, but It has been useless." While she gave him a word of sympathy, sym-pathy, Miss Donovan was busily thinking. think-ing. She remembered Willis' remark In the apartments, "Are you sure of the dead man's Identity? His face Is badly mutilated, you know;" and her alert mind sensed a possibility of a newspaper story back of young Cavendish's unwarranted and strange act. "Mr. Valo.s," she said kindly, "would you 'jnnd if I asked you a question or two more?" "No," the mnn returned. "AU rigid. First, what sort .f a hutn " - vir -master?" Valois answered almost with reverence: rever-ence: "A nice, quiet gentleman. A man that liked outdoors and outdoor sports. Best of all, he liked to spend his evenings at home reading." "Not much like his cousin John," she ventured with narrowing eyes. "No, ma'am, God be praised I There's a young fool for you, miss, crazy for the women and his drinking." drink-ing." "I understand that he was dependent upon Frederick Cavendish." "He was, miss," Valois said disgustedly, disgust-edly, "for every cent" "Did they ever quarrel?" "I never heard them. But I do know there was no love lost between them, and I know that young John was always broke." "Girls cost lots on Broadway," Miss Donovan suggested, "and they keep men up late, too." Valois laughed lightly. "John only came home to sleep occasionally," he said; "and as for the women one of them called on him the day after Mr. Frederick was killed. One of those tall blondes with a reddish tinge In her hair. He likes that kind." Miss Donovan started Imperceptibly. This was interesting; a woman In John Cavendish's apartment the day after his cousin's murder! But who was she? There were a million carrot-blondes In Manhattan. Still, the woman must have had some distinguishing distin-guishing mark ; her hat, perhaps, or her Jewels. "Did the woman wear any diamonds?" dia-monds?" she asked. "No diamonds," Valois returned; "a ruby, though. A ruby set In a big platinum ring. I saw her hand upon the knob." Miss Donovon's blood raced fast. She knew that woman. It was Celeste Ln Rue. From what Miss Donovan knew of Miss La Rue, she did not ordinarily seek men ; therefore there must have heen a grave reason for her presence ln John Cavendish's apartments Immediately after she learned of Frederick's death. A thousand thou-sand speculations entered Miss Donovan's Dono-van's mind. 1 "How long was she in the apartment?" apart-ment?" she demanded sharply. "Fifteen or twenty minutes, miss until after the hallman came back." "Have you told any one else what yon have told me?" "Only Josette. She's my fiancee. Miss La Baum Is her last name. She questioned me about losing my Job, and her questions brought things Into my mind that I might never have thought of otherwise. And at last I came to believe that It wasn't Mr. Frederick who was dead at all." Miss Donovan's eyes dilated 1 with eagerness and amazement. "Not Frederick Cavendish I Mr, Valois, tell me why?" The other's voice fell to a whisper. "Frederick Cavendish, miss," he said hollowly, "had a scar on his chest from football, he once told me and the man we laid out, well, his body was a bit burned, but had no scar on his chest.". Miss Donovan sprang suddenly to her feet. "Mr. Valois," she said breathlessly, "you come and tell that story to my city editor, and he'll see that you get a Job and a real one. You and I have started something, Mr. Valois." And tossing money to cover the bill on the table, she took Valois' arm, and with him ln tow hurried through the restaurant to the city streets on one of which was .the Star office, where Farrlss, the city editor, daily damned the doings of the world. ' Farrlss, for once, was enthusiastic. "A great lead ! By the Lord, It Is ! Now to prove It, Stella" Farrlss always al-ways resorted to first names "you drop everything else and go to this, learn what you can, spend money If you have to. I'll drag Willis off police, and you work with him. I'll give you a week when you've got something, come back !" CHAPTER III. On the Track of a Crime. In the city room of the Star, Farrlss, the city editor, sat back In his swivel chair smoking a farewell pipe preparatory pre-paratory to going home. His thoughts were suddenly Interrupted by a clatter of footsteps, nnd, slapping his feet to the floor, he turned to confront Willis and Miss Donovnn, Miss Donovan smiled at him. "Great luck! We've got something; and we dug all week to get It." "Well, for Pete's sake, shoot!" demanded de-manded Farrlss. "Cavendish, I suppose sup-pose r . ' The two nodded. Their eyes were alight with enthusiasm. "In the first place," said the girl, with grave emphasis, "Frederick Cavendish did not die Intestate as supposed. sup-posed. He left a will." Farrlss blinked. "That's Interesting. There was no evidence of that before." "I got that from the servants of the College club," Willis Interposed. "The will was drawn the night before I he murder. And the man thnt drew it v.ns I'r.trlck Enrlght, of Enrlght nnd As they sat toying with their food, their eyes commanding the entire room, they saw a woman swing Into the cafe entrance and enter the booth directly ahead of them. "La Rue!" whispered Willis to Miss Donovan. Ten minutes later a young mnn entered the cafe, swept It quickly with his eyes, then made directly for the enclosure occupied by his Inamorata. The man was Cavendish. In the booth behind, Miss Donovan and Willis were all attention, their ears strained to catch the wisps of conversation thnt eddied over the low partition. "Well, I'm here." It was John's voice, an Ill-humored voice, too. "But this is the last time, Celeste. These meetings are dangerous." "Yes when you talk so loud." Her soft voice scarcely reached the listeners. listen-ers. "But this time there was a good reason." She laughed. "You didn't think it was love, did you, deary?" "Oh, cut that out!" disgustedly. "You want more money, I suppose." "Well, of course," her voice hardening. harden-ing. "Naturally I feel that I should share ln your good fortune. But the amount I want now, and must have to-night to-night John Cavendish Is not altogether for myself. I've heard from the West." "My God! Has he been located?" "Yes, and Is safe for the present. Here, rend this telegram. It's not very clear, but Beaton wants money and asks me to bring It." "You? Why does he need you?" "Lack of nerve, I guess ; he's out of his element in that country. If it was the Bowery he'd do this sort of Job better. Anyhow, I'm going, and I want a roll. We can't either of us afford to lie down now." Cavendish half smothered an oath. "How much do you want?" "Ten thousand. I'm willing enough to split fifty-fifty. This Colorado Job Is getting to be expensive, deary. I wouldn't dare draw on you through the banks." In the back booth Willis muttered : "Gad, things are going great." Then he bent his ear to sedulous attention and again he could hear the voice of Cavendish. "You've got to tell me what you're going to do with the money," it said. The La Rue woman's answer could not be heard ; evidently it was a whispered whis-pered one, and therefore of utmost Importance. Came a pause, a clink of glasses, and then a few straggling words filtered over the partition. "But if the man should talk!" "Forget It! Ned Beaton is an oyster. oys-ter. Besides, I've got the screws on him. Come on, Johnnie boy, don't be a fool. We are In this game nnd must play It out It has been safe enough so fur, and I know what I am doing now. You've got too much at stake to haggle over a few thousand, when the money has come to you as easily as this has. Do I get the money?" He must have acceded, for his voice no longer rose to a high pitch. Presently, Pres-ently, when the orchestra began playing play-ing again, Miss Donovan nnd Willis Judged the pair were giving their attention atten-tion to the dinner. Finally, after an hour had passed, Cavendish emerged from the booth, went to the checkroom, check-room, and hurriedly left the cafe. Waiting only long enough to' sntisfy herself that Cavendish was gone, Celeste Ln Rue herself emerged from the booth and paused for a moment beside Its bamboo curtains. Then turning suddenly, she made her way, not toward the exit of the cafe, but to another small booth near the checkroom, check-room, and Into this she disappeared. But before she had started this short Journey, a yellow piece of paper, closely folded, slipped from her belt where It had been tucked. "It's the telegram ! The one of which they were speaking." Miss Donovan's voice whispered dramatically dramati-cally as her eyes swept the tiny clue within their ambit. At her words Willis was out of the booth. As Miss Donovan watched, she Raw him pass by the folded evidence. What was wrong? But, no suddenly she saw his handkerchief drop, saw him an Instant later turn and pick it up, and with It the telegram. Disappearing Disap-pearing In the direction of the men's room, he returned a moment Inter, paid the check, and with Miss Donovan on his arm left the cafe. Outside, and three blocks away from Stelnwny's, they paused under nn arc light, and with shaking hands Willis showed her the message. There, In the flickering rays, the girl read Its torn and yet enlightening message ; "lorado, May 19, 1915. "him safe. Report and collect, come with roll Monday sure 've seen papers. Remember Haskell. "NED." "It's terribly cryptic, Jerry," she said to the other, "but two things we know from It." "One, Is that La Rue's going to blow the burg some day soon." "The other, that 'Ned,' is Ned Beaton, Bea-ton, the man mentioned back there In Stelnwny's. Whatever his connection Is, we don't know. I think wo had betlur go to Farrlss, don't you?' "La Rue!" Whispered Willis to Miss Donovan. Again It Is reasonable to suppose that he was croaked by John Cuvendlsh, who wanted to destroy the will so that he could claim the estnte. "The dead mnn Is buried, and John starts spending money like water. One month later he receives a letter asking him to call at Enright's office. "What happened there Is probably this: Young Cuvendlsh was Informed of the existence of the will, and It was offered to him at a price which he couldn't refuse to pay Just then. "Perhaps he was frightened into signing a promise to pay as soon as he came Into the estate tricked by Enrlght. John Cavendish may be Innocent, In-nocent, or he may be guilty, but one thing Is certain he's being badgered to death by two people, from what little we know. One of them Is the La Rue woman ; the other Is Enrlght." Farrlss sat reflecting deeply, chewing chew-ing the stem of his dead pipe. "There's one thing that conflicts with your hypothesis. Valois' statement state-ment that he was almost positive that the dead man was not Cavendish." "I now believe Valois Is mistaken, In view of developments," said Willis with finality. "So does Stella Miss Donovan, I mean. Remember the body was charred across the face and chest nnd Valois was excited." Farrlss was silent a moment "Stick to It a while longer," he rapped rap-ped out; "and get Ln Rue and Cavendish Caven-dish together at their meeting-place, If you can discover It." "We can!" Interjected Willis. "It's Stelnway's cafe, the place where the police picked tip Frisco Danny and Mud Mike Melghan two yenrs ago. I followed them, but could not get near enough to hear what they said." "Then hop to It," Farrlss rejoined. "Stick around there until you get something deeper. As for me I'm going borne. It's two o'clock." It was the second night after Farrlss hud given them his Instructions thnt Miss Donovan nnd Willis, sitting In the last darkened hnoth In Sieinws.v's cafe, were rewarded for their vigil. |