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Show ' THE PRESS-BULLETI- BINGHAM, UTAH. I The Strange Case of Caveedish I By RANDALL PARRISH I Author of " The Devil's Own." My Lady of the North," Etc. Copyright by Randall Parrtsh El rr-rr--rrr :. IS "Then tt In the ether?5" ' "Sure; he's the real thing, ffat moeh to look at. maybe, but he fairly oozes the long green. He's a lawyer." "Oh, indeed." and Miss Donovan'! eyes darkened. She was Interested, now feeling herself on the verge of discovery. "From New York?" "Sure; maybe you've heard of him? He knew you as soon as Beaton men-tioned your name; he's Patrick En-rig-of Enright and Dougherty." Miss Donovan's Angers gripped hard on the footboard of .the bed, her teeth clinched to keep back a sudden excla-mation of surprise. This was more than she had bargained for, yet the other woman, coolly watching. In spite of her apparent llippancy, observed no change in the girl's manner. Appar-ently the disclosure meant little. "Enright, you say? No, I think not. He claimed to. know me? That Is strange.. Who did he think I was?" Miss La Hue bit hor lip. She had found her match evidently, but would strike harder. "A reporter on the Star. Naturally we couldn't help wondering what you style is different. No, sir; Westcott isn't after any sheriff. In the first place he hasn't any evidence. lie knows a thing or two, hut he can't prove It; and If we move faster than be does we'll block his game see?" "What fin you mean?" Lacy leaned forward, and hissed bis answer Into Enrlght's ear. "Put Cavendish where he can't get at him. There's no other chance. If Jim Westcott ever finds that fellow alive our goose Is cooked. And we've got the advantage we know where the man is." "And Westcott doesn't?" "Exactly, hut he will know. He'll comb these hills until he finds the trail that's Jim Westcott. Come on hack Inside, both of you, and I'll tell you my plan." The door closed behind them, shut-ting out the yellow glow, and leaving the hillside black and lonely, Miss Donovan did not go down to supper. Beaton waited some time In the office, his eyes on the stairs, but she failed to appear, and he lacked the necessary courage to seek her In her own room. Then Enright called him and compelled his attendance. The absence of the girl was not caused from any lack of appetite, as she sub-sidized the Chinaman to smuggle her a supply of food by way of the back stairs, which she ate with decided relish, hut she had no desire to show any anxiety regarding a meeting with the newcomers. Her newspaper experience had given her some knowledge of human nature and she felt convinced that her task of extracting information' would he greatly simplified If these people sought her company first. She was at the window when some one rapped at the' door. She arose to her feet, and took a step or two forward, her heart beating swifter. "Come In." The door opened, and the light from the windows revenled Miss La Hue, rather tastefully attired In green silk, her blond hair fluffed artfully, and a dainty patch of black court-plast-adorning one cheek. "Pardon me, please," the voice some-what high-pitche- "but they told me downstairs you were from New York." "Yes, that Is my home; won't you ,come( In?? , ' " "Sure I will. Why I was so lone-some In this hole I simply couldn't stand It any longer. I know your name; It's Stella Donovan well, mine Is Celeste La Rue." CAVENDISH NOT DEAD. 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, Patrl-- k to draw up a will leaving most of his estate to charity, with a mere pittance to John Cavendish, his cousin ana only relative, a dis-solute youth. That night Frederick Cavendish Is murdered In his apart-ments. No will being found, John Cavendish Inherits the estate. Two months later Knrfght Informs John Cavendish of the existence of tne will and offers, for IIOO.OUO. to say nothing' of it. John agrees Stella Donovan, newspaper writer, learns from Frederick Cavendish's vaiei that he Is not satisfied the bmly found was that of his employer. She Is directed by Farrlss, city edi-tor of the Star, to follow up the case. Stella learns of the will had drawn up. also of John Cavendish's Infatuation for Celeste Le Rue. chorus girl. A conversa-tion Stella overhears between Ce-leste and John Cavendish convince her Frederick Cavendish Is alive the victim of a conspiracy ennl-neere-by EnrlRht to secure his fortune, and Miat Celeste knows where he Is hidden. Ned Beaton, Dotorious gunprian. Is also men-tioned. Celeste is about to leave fer Haskell, Colorado, and Stella i.j ordered by Farrlss to proceed there at once. At Haskell Stella, repre-senting herself as a magazine writer, makes the acquaintance of Jim Westcott. Frederick Caven-dish' partner, Westcott, resents the Interest taken In Stella by Beaton, whom he knows only as a visiting New Yorker, and worsts him In a fistic encounter. Stulla conlides in Jim, who believes Cavendish Is alive. Celeste and Enright Join Beaton at Haskell. While visiting his mine an attempt Is made to shoot Westcott. CHAPTER VI Continued. Cautiously he circled the black cabin, every nerve taut for struggle, every sense alert. lie found nothing to reward his search whoever the cow-ard had been, he had disappeared among the rocks, vanishing completely In the black night. The fellow had not even waited to lenrn the effect of his shot. It was uot until he came back to the open door that the miner thought of his companion. What had become of Jose? Could It be that the Mexican was hit? He entered, shrink-ing from tlie task, yet resolute to learn the truth. A black, shapeless figure, . scarcely discernible as a man, lay huddled beneath the table. Westcott bent" over It, feeling for the heart and turning fnce upward. There was no visible mark of the bullet wound, but the body was limp, the face ghastly in the grotesque dance of the flames. The assassin had not wasted his shot Jose Salvarl would never see Mexico again. The heavy green curtain extended to the sill, but was silt in one corner. Willi his eye close to this slight open-ing be gained a partial glimpse of the interior. There were three men In the room, and Westcott drew a quick breath of surprise as he recognized the two faces fronting him Bill Lacy at the desk, a pipe In his mouth, his feet elevated on a convenient chair, and Beaton, leaning back against the wall, apparently half asleep with his eyes closed. The third man was facing Lacy, but concealed by the stove; he seemed to lie doing the talking, and held a paper In his timid resembling a map. Suddenly be rose to his feet and bent over the edge of the desk, and Westcott knew him Enright! Desperately determined to learn what was being said, the miner thrust the heavy blade of Ills jackknlfe be-neath the window snsh and succeeded in noiselessly lifting it a scant half inch. He bent lower, the speaker's voice clearly audible through the narrow opening. "There was a dead man back East, wasn't there?" "What difference does that make?" "None, particularly, except to uat-urnl- ly Increase the worth of my serv-ices. I'm not squeamish about stilts, but I like to know what 1 am doing. What are you holding on to this other feiiow for?" Enright walked nervously ncross the room, chewing nt ills cigar, only to come back and fafe Ills questioner. "Well. I suppose I might as well tell you," he said almost savagely. "You're In too deep already to wiggle out. We made rather a mess of it in New York, and only a bit of luck helped us through. We had the plans ready for three months, but nothing occurred to give us a chance. Then all nt once Cavendish got bis first telegram from Westcott and decided to pull out, not telling anyone where he was going. He employed me to draw the will, and told me he planned to leave the city for some time. As soon as I could I told the others over the phone, and we got busy." Lacy stared Incredulous. "And there hasn't been no killln'?" Enright shook his head. "Not by any of us." "Then how about that dead man in New York the one that was buried for Cavendish? Oh, I read about that. Beaton showed It to me in the pa per." "That's the whole trouble," Enright answered gravely. "Ido not know who he was. or how he came there. All I know Is, he wns not Frederick Cavendish. But his being found there dead In Cavendish's apartments, nnd Identified, puts us In an awful hole. If the rest of this affair should ever become known. Do you see? The charge would be murder, and how are we going to hold the real Cavendish alive, nnd not have it come out?" "The other one the stiff wasn't Cavendish?" ' "Certainly nnt ; you know where thrust deep Into his trouser pockets. Then, after a few minutes' cogitation, he resumed : "All right then; we'll take it as It lies. The only question unsettled. En-right, is what Is all this worth to me?" CHAPTER VII. Miss La Rue Pays a Call. Some slight noise caused Westcott to straighten up, and turn partially around. He had barely time to (ling up one arm in the warding off of a blow. The next Instant was one of mad, desperate struggle. In which be realized only that he dare not relax his grip on the wrist of his unknown antagonist. It was a fierce, intense grapple, every muscle strained to the utmost, silent except for the stamping of feet, deadly In purpose. Twice Westcott drove his clenched right into the shadowed face, smash-ing It the last time so hard the man's grip relaxed, and lie went staggering back. With a leap forward, the bat-tle fury on him, Westcott closed be-fore the other could regain position. Again the clenched fist struck and the fellow went down In the darkness, whirling backward to the earth and lay. there, motionless. An instant, panting, breathless, scarcely yet comprehending what "had occurred, the victor stared at the huddled figure, his arm drawn back. Then he became aware of excitement within, the sound of voices, the tramp of feet on the floor, the sudden open-ing of a door. A gleam of light shot out, revealing the figures of men. With one spring he was across the shapeless form on the ground, and had vanished Into the darkness be-yond. Lacy wns first to reach the uncon-scious body, stumbling over It In the black shadow, as he rushed forward, revolver in hand. He cursed, rising to his knees, nnd staring about in the silent darkness. "There's a man lying here dead, likely. Bring a light. No, the fellow Is alive. Dammit, It's Moore. Here you what happened?" The fellow groaned, opened his eyes, nnd looked about dazedly. "There there was a fellow at that window there. I I saw him from be-low, and crept up behind but he turned around just as I struR:'fB "He as at that window,! ytfTsay?" "Yes; kneelin' down like he was lookin' Into the room. Oh, Lord !" Lacy crunched over to the side of the shack, and bent down to get a better view. His fingers came In con-tact with the knife which upheld tne snsh, nnd he plucked It out, holding It up Into the beam of light passing through the rent In the torn curtain. He stared at the curiously carved handle Intently. "That's Jim Westcott's jack-knif- He's been listening to nil we said. Now we are up against It." "What's that?" The question enme from Enright. still nt the corner of "There's More Ways of Making Money In New York Than Drawing a Sal-ary.' was doing out here. You are in the newspaper business, aren't you?" "Yes," realizing further concealment was useless, "but on my vacation. I thought I explained all that to Mr. Bea-ton. I am not exactly a reporter. I do feature-stuff.- " "Whatever that is." "Human-tntere- st stories; anything unusual ; strange happenings in every-day life, you know." "Murders, and and robberies." "Occasionally, If they are out of the ordinary." She took a swift breath nnd made the plunge. "Like the Fred-erick Cavendish case do you remenx ber that?" Miss La Hue stared at her across the darkening room, but if she changed color the gloom concealed It and her voice was steady enough. "No," she said shortly, "I never read those things. What happened?" "Oh, nothing much, ne was rich, and was found dead In his apartments at the Waldron evidently killed by a burglar. The case is probably forgot-ten by this time. Let's speak about something' else 1 hate to talk shop." Miss La Iiue stood up, and shook out her skirt. "That's what I say; and It seems to me it would be more soclnl If we had something to drink. You ain't too nice to partake of a cocktail, are you? Good ! Then we'll have one. What's the hotelkeeper's name?" "Tlmtnons." "Do you suppose he'd come up If I pounded on the floor?" Miss Donovan slipped off the bed. "I don't believe he Is in the office. He went up the street Just before dark. You light the lamp while I'll see If I can find the Chlnnnvin out In the hall." She closed the door behind her, strode noisily down the hall, then nnd swiftly retraced her steps nnd stooped silently down to where a crack yawned In the lower panel. That same Instant a match flared within the room and was applied to the wick of the lamp. The narrow opening gave only a glimpse of half the room the wash-stan- the chair, and lower part of the bed. She saw Miss La Rue drop the match, then open her valise nnd go through It. swiftly. She found nothing, and turned to the wash-stan- d drawer. The latter was empty, nnd was Instantly closed again, the glr' slnrlng about the room, as though af her wit's end. Suddenly she disap-peared along the edge of the bed, be-yond the radius of the crack In the door. What was It she was doing? Senrchlng the bed, no doubt; seeking something hidden beneath the pillow, or mattress. Stella's feelings, lead her into a trap of the enemy. (TO BE CONXiNUCD.) If M&mmm A very prettv name; rather un-usual. Are you French?" The other laughed, crossing her feet carelessly, and extracting a cigarette case from a handbag. "French? Well, I guess not. My dad's name was Capley, and I an-nexed this other when I went on the stnge. It tickles the Johnnies, nnd sounds better than Sadie Capley. You liked it yourself." "It Is better adapted to that pur-pose you are an actress then?" "Well, nobody ever said so. I can dance nnd sing n bit. and know how to wear clothes. Tell me, when were you In New York?" "About a month ago." "Well, didn't you see the Revue?" "The last one? Certainly." "That's where I shone second girl on the right In the chorus, and I wns In the eccentric dance with Joe Stenrns; some hit what?" "Yes, I remember now; they called you the Red Fairy because of your ruby ring. What In the world ever brought you out here?" Celeste laughed, a cloud of smoke curling gracefully above her blonde hair. "Some Joke, Isn't It? Well, It's no engagement at the Good Luck dance hnll yonder, you can bet on that. The fact Is I've quit the business, nnd am going to take a flyer In mining?" "Mining? That sounds like money In these days! They tell me there Is no placer-minin- g any longer, nnd that It requires a fortune to develop. I wouldn't suppose a chorus girl " "Oh, pshaw!" and Miss La Rue leaned forward, a bright glow on each cheek. "There are more ways of mak-ing money in New York than drawing a salary. I've caught on to a few things In the last five years. It pays better to be Celeste La Rue than It ever did to be Sadie Capley. Do you get me?" Miss Donovan nndled. Her acquaint-ance with New York fast life supplied all necessnry details, and It wns qtiltf; evident this girl had no sense of shame. Instead she was rather proud of the success she had achieved. "I Imagine you are right," she ad-mitted pleasant. "So you found a backer? A mining mas?" "Not on your life. None of your wild west for me. As soon as some business Is straightened out here, it's back to Broadway." "Who Is It?" ventured the other cau-tiously. "Mr. Beaton?" "Ned Bea,ton V Miss La Rue's voice rose to a shriek. "Oh, Lord I I should say not I Why that fellow sever had fifty dollars of bis own at one time in his life. He's only a tin-hor- n sf art" Westcott straightened the body out, crossing the dead hands, and covered the face with a blanket stripped from a bunk. The brief burst of Uituie died down, lenving the room in The miner wns conscious only of a feeling of dull rage, a desire for revenge. The shot had been clearly intended for himself. The killing of Jose had been a mere accident. In all probability the murderer had crept away believing he had succeeded in his purpose. If he had lingered long enough to see anyone emerge from the but, he would naturally Imagine the survivor to be the Mexican. Good ! This very confidence would tend to throw the fellow off his guard;, he would have no fear of Jose. He reached beneath the blanket nni drew forth the dead Mexican's revol-ver, slipped the weapon Into his own belt, opened the door and went out. closing It tightly behind him. .lose could He there until morning. While the darkness lasted he had work to do. Ills purpose settled, there was no hes-itancy In his movements. His was the code of the West; his methods thoe of the desert and the mountains, the code and method of a fighting man. A dim trail, rock strewn, led to the spring, where it connected with nn ore road extending down the valley to Haskell. Another trail across the spur shortened the distance to the La Kos-It- a shafthouse. But Westcott chose to follow none of these, lest he run into gome ambuscade. Slowly utiil silently, cautious to dislodge no'rolllng stone, and keeping well concealed among the rocks, he finally descended to the level of the shaft, feeling confident that his presence was not discovered. He had no clearly defined plan, only a desire to learn exactly what was be-ing done. The office beyond the shaft was lighted, although the faint gleam was only dimly revealed along the edge bf lowered curtains concealing the Interior. However, this evidence that some one wns within served to attract Westcott's attention and he crept around, under the shadow of the dump, and appronehed the farther corner. He could perceive now two men on the hoisting platform and hear the growl of their voices, but without being able to distinguish speech. Re-volver In hand, he made the round of the building to assure himself that no guard had been posted there, then chose the window farthest away from the rbuft and ndavord to look la. Cavendish Is." "I never saw Fred Cavendish ; I wouldn't know him from Adam's off-o- I've got the fellow Beaton turned over to me." "Well, lie's the man ; the dead one Isn't." "How do yon know?" "Bemuse Frederick Cavendish bought and signed a round-tri- p ticket to Los Angeies, and hoarded the mid-night train. My man reported that to me, and Benton just had time to catch the same train before It pulled out. Isn't that true. Ned?" "Yes. It Is, and I never left him." "But." Insisted Lacy stubbornly, "did you see the dead one?" "Yes. I kept away from the In-quest, but attended the funeral to get a glance at his face. It seemed too strange to be true. The fellow wasn't Cavendish; I'd swear to that, but he did look enough like him to fool any-body who had no suspicions aroused. Dammit, it's spooky, the very thought of it." "Rut you saw a difference?" "Because I looked for it; I never would have otherwise. But anyway. I was already convinced that he wns not the man. I am not sure what I should have thought If I had met him alive upon the street." Lacy appeared amused, crossing the room, and expectorating Into the open stove. "You fellows make me laugh," he said grimly. "1 am hardly Idiot enough to be taken In by that sort of old wives' tnle. However, If thnt Is your story, stick to it but if you were to ever tell It In court. It would take a jury about five minutes to bring In their verdict. Let's get to busi-ness. You want me to help out In a sort of accident, 1 presume a fall over a cliff, or the premature discharge of blasting powder; these things are quite common out here. And to pre-vent any stir nt this end. before you fellows get hold of the stuff, you want me to call off my working gang and let Westcott alone. Come, now, speak up." "Yes," acknowledged Enright. "I ' don't care so much for Westcott, but I want things kept quiet." Lacy whistled a few bars, his bands Again the Clenched Fist Struck. the house, unable to tell what bad happened. "Westcott has been here listening to our talk. He pried up the window with this knife, so he could hear. Moore caught him, nnd got knocked out." "He he heard our talk In In there." repeated the dazed lawyer, his lips trembling. "And has got away? Good heavens! man, where has he gone? After the sheriff?" Lacy stared at him through the darkness, and burst into a roar of un-restrained laughter. "Who? Jim Westcott? The sher-iff? 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