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Show Synthetic Gentleman L CHANNING Ft 7 POLLOCK- copyright, Changing pollock, WNU service CHAPTER VII 10 TIIKY wore a curlonsly Inert little lit-tle group for a minute or two after the revelation. It was like a play, Barry thought; curtain down on a climax, and the actors relaxing until It should rise again for the next scene. After a time, Barry crossed the ' room to the pair. Pat turned on him. "Well, now you know," she said. "You know about us, but remember we know about you, too." She was herself again; hard and defiant. Ignoring her, for the moment, Barry asked the Judge, "Do you want to tell me what happened?" "I wrote my1 opinion In the Jefferson Jef-ferson street proceedings, and then, again as you say, I couldn't go through with It. I'd never done a crooked thing In my life. I don't know how I ever made that speech at the Astor. The Instant It was finished, I telephoned Kelly. 'You'd better come down and talk It over,' lie said. "Of course, It would have been fatal for anyone to learn of that meeting. That's why I got out of the taxi at Twenty-third street. As I told you, Kelly admitted me himself. him-self. He was drunk, and In a bad temper. 'What's the matter with you?' he asked, when we'd gone Into the drawing room. 'White-livered? 'White-livered? Here; take a drink, and forget It' "There was a bottle on the table, and two glasses. Both of 'em had been used, but he half-filled them, and gave me one. I needed It, but I can't drink Scotch never could. I told Kelly so, and he blazed out at me. 'You're too good to drink with me Is that It?' ."'No, I answered: 'that's not It But I can't hand down that decision. deci-sion. I simply can't, Mr. Kelly. It's rotten, and everyone knows It I've got the cursed thing In my pocket, and ' 'And I've got something In my pocket,' he shouted " i "Father!" Pat Intervened. "For over an hour, I pleaded and argued. And Kelly kept drinking, and getting uglier. He was a big man, with a bull neck, and huge hands. At last, he said, 'Shut your damned mouth, and get out of here!' "I said, 'I'm not going.' "'No?' he sneered, and got up from his chair. He stumbled across the ropm to a great, old-fashioned desk, and got a revolver. 'Now, beat It,' he yelled, 'and damned quick!' "'All right,' I said, 'but I won't file that decision.' "I walked Into the hall, and Kelly stood, leaning against the door, with the pistol In his hand, so furious furi-ous that I half expected him to shoot before I could get my hat. 'You think you can scare me,' he shouted. 'You and The Globe. You think you got something on me. Witnesses. Squealers. Well, I know how to take care of them, by God ! Beat It! And, If that decision ain't filed by noon, today, I'll ' " Again, Pat said, "Father!" "I know," Hambldge Interrupted himself. Pat's admonition had come Just In time, Barry thought The Judge had risen, tense, nnd so excited that he seemed on the verge of collapse. "And that was that," Barry calmed him. "Not quite," Judge Hambldge continued, con-tinued, but In a lower tone. "When I got to the bottom of the steps the stone steps. I mean I stood thinking. If I left that way, there was no telling what Kelly might do. 'I've got to go through,' I thought. 'It's ruin either way, but. If I obey orders, ruin only for me. I'd better bet-ter give In.' I couldn't make up my mind, though. I kept looking back, half decided. And, suddenly, a queer thing happened. The front door swung open." The Judge mopped his hands again. "I'd shut It carefully," he resumed, "but there It was, wide, almost like an invitation. I walked Into the hall. The glass doors to the drawing room Mere closed, but I could see the 1ght through them. When I put my hand on the knob, the lights went out. I turned the knob, and pushed, but the door wouldn't open. Not latched It was as If some one was holding It. 'Kelly,' I thought. 'He won't let me In. I've got to act quick now.' Almost In a daze, I wandered up to the avenue. At nine o'clock, I gave the decision to my clerk, and told him to file It Immediately. A few hours later, I Ion rued that Kelly was dead. The papers said his body was found stretched across that door to the hull I knew then It wag there j when I left the house, and that was why I couldn't open the door." Pat said, "Are you satisfied?" "Are you?" Barry asked. "Or would you rather that I tried to And who killed Kelly?" "What does It matter " Pat began, be-gan, hotly. "It think Mr. Gilbert's answered that question," the Judge Interrupted. Interrupt-ed. "We've got to clear young Rld-der. Rld-der. At any cost Pat, we've got to clear him." "Mr. Gilbert's our friend," her father fa-ther went on. "He says so, and I believe him." "What do you want to know, Mr. Gilbert?" "How long did you stand at the foot of the steps before that door swung open?" "Five minutes. Maybe, a little more." "Do you think some one opened It? Some one who, then, went In to Kelly?" "You mean, the murderer?" Barry nodded. "No. That's the last thing he would have done. The door probably prob-ably didn't latch, when I closed It" "While you were In the house, did you see anyone but Kelly?" "No. We were shut In together." "Did you hear anyone?" "Since you mention It, once I did think a heard the front door close. I may have Imagined It, but now I remember Kelly asked, 'Who's that In the hall?' It was about half an hour after we went Into the drawing draw-ing room, and I looked out, ttot there wasn't anyone." "He or she may have gone Into the dining room," Barry said. "Whoever killed Kelly came out of the dining room; I'm certain of that." "Why?" "Because the drink Kelly offered you was Scotch whisky. Was there anything else In the room?" "If there had been, I'd've asked for It" "Exactly. And the weapon that crushed Kelly's skull was a cut-glass cut-glass decanter containing rye whisky. "In the five minutes you were standing on the pavement," Barry reasoned, "some one came out of that dining room with that decanter, decan-ter, and struck Kelly. There was no time for a quarrel. That man or that woman knew what he or she was going to do." "Why do you say 'she'?" Pat asked. "This wasn't a woman's crime." "It's not a criminal's crime, either," ei-ther," Barry answered. "A criminal crim-inal would have brought the weapon, weap-on, and It wouldn't've been a cut-glass cut-glass decanter. A criminal might have worn gloves, to prevent leaving leav-ing finger-prints. But since this wasn't a criminal, the fact that there were no finger-prints suggests that the murderer Just happened to be wearing gloves." "And?" Pat Inquired, tensely. "And men don't often wear gloves on a warm night Women do. It was a warm night" "It was very warm," the Judge said. "You are a shrewd young man," the girl gibed at him. "But your assumptions are ridiculous. Gloves! Anyone might have worn 'em. Anyone Any-one might remember the risk of leaving finger-prints, and wipe them off a bottle with a handkerchief. Anyone mlght've come In through an unlatched door any time after my father left" "But," Barry objected, "Kelly was dead then." "How do you know that? How do we know my father wasn't right when he thought Kelly was keeping him out? All your conjectures lead nowhere, Mr. Gilbert The only discovery dis-covery you've made Is that father saw Kelly after young Eidder did. And, as I told you, that's merely Implicating one Innocent man Instead In-stead of another." "And you " "Naturally, It's the second Innocent Inno-cent man I care about Especially since his Innocence of murder wouldn't keep your disclosures from disgracing him." Her voice broke. "Itldder'll be free in a few weeks," she pled. "Wait, Mr. Gilbert You don't know how many Innocent people peo-ple you may drag Into this." Barry hesitated. He now remembered that he had told Pat he loved her. "It didn't get me anywhere," Barry thought. "It never will. I'm not even sure that she heard me, but I'm glad 1 spoke, all the sumei" Aloud, he said, 'Til wait, Pat." She glanced at him gratefully. "Not until the trial, though," h warned her. "I won't take thai chance. I won't let this girl. Peggy go on suffering until then. Bui now I bollere I Enow who murdered! Kelly. Someone who came Into the' house while your father was there. Someone so full of the thought of it that she bungled the new lock! on the front door." ; "You think " Hambldge began. ; "I think that's why It blew openJ And I think, too, that revealing1 your visit now would be merelyl 'tipping our hand.' The person I: suspect has already covered her tracks pretty well." "Then," Pat said almost lncredu-! lously "Then you're not going to. repeat this story?" "Not even to Winslow. He hasn't much more faith In my 'sleuthing' than you have. We'll leave him to work out Rldder's defense. For the present let's agree on an armistice. armis-tice. Mutual silence. If the time arrives when I feel I must speak, I'll come to you first. Is that fair?" "Quite." From the very beginning, Barry had suspected Mrs. Kelly. "She sued for divorce recently, and withdrew with-drew the case," Peter Winslow had told him. "Do you think that might Indicate that she killed her husband?" hus-band?" Barry did, and one discovery dis-covery after another confirmed the Idea. "But," as Barry had reminded remind-ed his city editor, "Mrs. Kelly was In Harlem. She went to a dance." "Ever hear of faking an alibi?" Harwood had asked, advising a "check up." That sounded promising until, as the first move In his Investigation, Barry dug up The Herald Tribune of "the morning after the body was found." Mrs. Kelly had told him that paper contained a full record of her social activities, and It did. "At the time of the murder, Mrs. Kelly, who sued for divorce recently, re-cently, and withdrew the case, was awarding prizes at a fancy dress ball of the Crosstown Chowder and Outing club In Harlem Gardens. This was at midnight, and the other judges were . . ." "Kelly wasn't killed at midnight," Barry realized. "He wasn't killed: until two hours after midnight. If Mrs. Kelly got through with her prizes-" ; "Well," Barry exulted, climbing Into the subway. What next? Say, nothing, and saw wood that's what." Monday morning Barry dropped In on Peter Winslow. Obviously, he was doing a great deal. "Got the defense all planned," he declared, showing Barry a thick sheaf of "It's Not a Criminal's Crime, Either," Ei-ther," Barry Answered. memoranda. "Loose-leaf memo-: randa It was, in the most literal; sense scrawled on waste paper; and the backs of envelopes. , Order; may be Nature's first law, but lt: wasn't this lawyer's. "No, I'm not neat," Peter smiled,. Intercepting Barry's glance. "Ex-: cept personally, and that Is Julie's achievement. Julie's Mrs. Winslow, of course, and she buys all my clothes. Lays 'em out for me, too even the boutonnlere. I; often ask her If she wants me to look like a gigolo. Don't worryl about this stuff, though," Indicat-' Ing the sheaf of memoranda. "Miss1 Clark'll have that straight by. night" Miss Clark was his secretary. "Women keep you in order," he went on smiling; "that's about the' only thing I have against 'em." "There's nothing to this case,", he continued. "It'll come to trial In a few weeks now, and be over In a few hours. Want to hear what I'm going to ask that Filipino?" Fili-pino?" Listening, Barry felt again that, his own activities had been merely foolish. A dozen questions disposed dis-posed of all the evidence the but-, ler had given so far, and made It apparent that what he actually knew of young Rldder's visit was actually nothing. "You heard a quarrel? A violent quarrel? And you were alarmed? That's why you came upstairs? Rogers left then? And the lights were still burning In the front room. If you were alarmed, why didn't you knock at the door to make sure your master mas-ter was all right? Not so very much alarmed, were you? In fact, you weren't alarmed at all until you saw what had happened." This was the beginning of an Inquiry that, twisted about, doubled on Itself, and was likely to leave any jury on earth uncertain to convict anyone of a capital offense. "Particularly , anyone with a wife and child," Pe' ter said- "Peiiy was In here Friday." he added. "She looks as though she'd been dragged through a knot j hole. I wanted her to come to us for the week-end, but we're In town most of the time I'm going to talk to the Hambidges about having her out there." "That would be great," Barry kindled. "They'd be company for each other. It wouldn't do Pat a bit of harm to learn how the other half lives." "Right!" Peter exclaimed heartily. heart-ily. "I'll call Pat today." In spite of himself, as he was leaving, leav-ing, Barry mentioned his Harlem theory. Peter listened Intently. "Well," he said, "you are a Hawk-shaw." Hawk-shaw." "You'd be surprised if I landed Mrs. Kelly, wouldn't you?" "No," Peter replied, smiling again, "but I'd be terribly surprised If you didn't begin suspecting some one else ten minutes afterward." after-ward." CHAPTER VIII THE more Barry thought of It, the more certain he became that the Judge's story, and the revelations revela-tions In Harlem, removed the only reason for questioning Harwood's hypothesis. When the divorce action ac-tion was filed, Kelly had promised not to see Betty Barclay again. That promise had Induced the withdrawal with-drawal of the petition. And then Betty Barclay had phoned, while Kelly was out, and Just as Mrs. Kelly Kel-ly was going. In Harwood's own words, Mrs. Kelly "went wild." Failing to get legal counsel, she taxied to Harlem, and there she got "madder and madder." Just after midnight, she drove 'home, and found Kelly alone drunk, and with the accumulated wrath engendered by two trying Interviews There were words, and a handy decanter. The design began being almost too nearly perfect He found Peggy doing some mending mend-ing In her dingy room. She had lost flesh, and seemed to be always staring at nothing. "It's Jacky," she confided In Barry. "I'm worried about him." The youngster looked pale and 111. "Look here, Peg; will you have lunch with me tomorrow at the Astor? As-tor? I want you to meet somebody." some-body." "Miss Hambldge?" "Yes." "She'd turn up her nose at me like an elephant reaching for peanuts." pea-nuts." "I don't think so. Anyway, I want you to know each other." The appointment was made, at last one o'clock and Barry called Pat "Well, the trail's hot, all right" "Tell me about it" "I don't dare over the wire. You know; operators. Come in and lunch with me?" "When?" "Tomorrow at one." Pat was eagerly anxious to hear his news, and there was no other way. But, If Pat's nose remained static when she learned she was to encounter Peggy, her mouth straightened. "Why? What have I In common with this girl?" "Well," Barry answered, flatly, "you're keeping her husband In prison." Pat flushed. "You owe her something for that don't you think? What're you being be-ing so high hat about? This girl's Mrs. John Clarke Rldder, Jr., you know." "I'm not being high hat Only, naturally, just now, I don't feel much like meeting strangers. Especially Es-pecially strangers with whom I have no community of Interest" Lunching together, however, It goon became evident that there was a "community of Interest" Pat warmed to this painted chorus girl, fearful for her husband exactly as Pat was fearful for her father. Both heard Barry's account of his discoveries with regard to Mrs. Kelly. "It seems pretty conclusive," Pat said. "I never thought of that dame I mean, woman," Peg added. "Would that get Jack off quick?" - Barry explained his understanding understand-ing that, If there were definite proof of another person's having committed commit-ted a crime, anyone In custody was released Immediately. "The district attorney moves for a dismissal of the Indictment I believe," he told them. "Gee !" Peggy said, with the tears In her eyes. Pat was no fool, and she found herself respecting and liking this "night club hoofer." She was Mrs. Ridder, after all. "Whoever the girl might have been, It was the tears beginning to dissolve the beads that stirred Pat. She had never seen anyone cry that way before cry with her lips twisted into a smile. "You've certainly stuck to your husband," Pat observed. "Why not? When you really .love anybody, you don't care what thev do, or have done, or what they are. It's what they are to you that counts. You're not thinking what you're going to get, but what you're going to give. That is, the right kind of girl Is." (TO BE CONTINUED) Named Patagonia When Magellan was on his voyage voy-age around the world he stopped at a place In South America, where he found large footprints In the sand. He named Is Patagonia, oi "land of big feet" . - |