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Show The Blind Man's Eyes I By WILLIAM MacHARG EDWIN BALMER Copyright by Little, Brown and Company CHAPTER XIX Continued. 16 She told him, beginning with her discovery dis-covery of K.-iton In llii; garage and ending with his leaving her and with Donald Avery's fimlinff her in the motor; mo-tor; and now she held back one word only his mime whb'h he h;id told her, Hugh. Her father listened Intently. "You and Mr. Eaton appear to have become rnther well acquainted, Harriet," Har-riet," he said. "Has he told you noth-' noth-' lug nhout himself which you have not told me? You have seen nothing concerning con-cerning It 111. which you have not told?", Her mind went quickly hack to the polo game; Khe felt a Hush, wddch his Mind eyes could not see, dyeing her cheeks and forehead. The Mind man waited for a moment; mo-ment; he put out his hand and pressed the hell which called the steward. Neither spoke until the steward came. "Falrley," Santolne said then, quietly, qui-etly, "Miss Sim I oino and I have Just agreed that for the present all reports regarding the pursuit of the men who entered the study lust night are to he made direct to me, not through inss Minioine or .ir. Avery. "Very well, sir.'' She still sat silent after the steward had gone; she thought for an Instant her father had forgotten her presence; then he moved slightly. "That Is all, clear," he said quietly. She got up and left him, and went to her own rooms; she did not pretend to herself that she could rest. She hathed and dressed and went downstairs. down-stairs. The library had windows facing fac-ing to the west ; she went In there and stood looking out. Her mind was upon only one thing even of that she could not think connectedly. con-nectedly. Some years ago, something she did not know what had happened hap-pened to Hugh; tonight, In some strange way unknown to her, It had ctilnihialed In her father's study. He had fought someone; he had rushed away to follow someone. "Whom? Had he heard that someone in the study and gone down? Had he been fighting their battle her father's and hers? She kn?w that was not so. Hugh had been fully dressed. What did It mean that he had said to her that these events would either destroy de-stroy hi in or would send him back to her as as something different? Her thought supplied no answer. rut whatever he had done, whatever he might he, she knew his fate was hers now ; for she had given herself to him utterly. She had told that to herself as she fled and pursued with li 1 in that night; she had told it to him; she later had told It though she had not meant to yet to her father. She could only pray now that out of the events of this night might not come a grief to her too great for her to bear. She went to the rooms that had been Eaton's. The police, in stripping them of his possessions, had overlooked over-looked his cap; she found the bit of gray cloth and hugged It to her. She whispered his name to herself Hugh that secret of his name which she had kept ; she gloried that she had that secret with him which she could keep from them all. What wouldn't they give just to share that with her his name. Hugh I She started suddenly, looking through the window. The east, above the lake, was beginning to grow gray. The dawn was coming I It was be ginning to be day ! She hurried to the other side of the house, looking toward the west. How could she have left him, hurt and bleeding and alone In the night! She could not have done that but that his asking her to go had told that it was for his safety as well as hei's; she could not help him any more then; she would only have been in the way. I'.ut now she started to rush out, but controlled herself; she had to stay In the house; that was where the first word would come if they caught him ; and then he would need her. how much more! The reporters on the lawn below her, seeing her at the window, win-dow, called up to her to know further fur-ther particulars of what had happened hap-pened and what the murder meant; she could see them plainly in the Increasing In-creasing light. She could see the lawn and the road before the house. Pay had come. And w ith the coming of day, the uncertainty un-certainty and disorder within and about the house seemed to increase. Hut in the south wing, with Its sound-proof do-irs and its windows closed against the noises from the lawn, there was silence; anil in this silence, an exact, compelling, methodic machine was working; the mind ot r.asil S;:ntoine was striving, vainly as yet. hut with growing chances of success, suc-cess, to tit together into the order In width thv belonged and make clear the events of the night and all that hail gone before arranging, ordering, testing, discarding, picking up again and reordering all that had happened since that oilier murder, of Gabriel Warden. CHAPTER XX What One Can Do Without Eyes. Three men at least three men had fought !n the study In Santolne's presence. Eaton, It was certain, had teen the only one from the house present pres-ent wdien the first .shots were fired. Had Eaton been alone against the thw two! Hid Eaton been with one v- . of the other two against the third? It appeared probable to Suntolne that Eaton bad oeen alone, or had come alone, to the study and had met bis enemies there. Santolne fi.dt that the probabilities were that Eaton's enemies had opened the safe and had been surprised by Eaton. Hut If they had opened the safe, they were not only Eaton's enemies; ene-mies; they were also Santoine's; they were the men who threatened Santoine's San-toine's trust. Those whom Eaton had fought In the room had had perfect opportunity for killing Santolne, If they wished. Hut Santolne felt certain no one had made any attack upon him at any moment In the room; he had had no feeling, at any Instant, that any of the shots fired had been directed at him. Blatchford, too, hail been unat-tacked unat-tacked until he bad made It plain that he had recognized one of the Intruders; Intru-ders; then, before Iilatehford could cull the name, he had been shot down. It was clear, then, that what had protected Santolne was his blindness; he had no doubt that. If he had been able to see and recognize the men In the room after the lights were turned on, he would have been shot down also. Rut Santolne recognized that this did not fully account for his Immunity. Im-munity. Two weeks before, an attack at-tack which had been meant for Eaton had struck down Santolne Instead; and no further attempt against Eaton had been made until It had become publicly known that Santolne was not going to die. If Santolne's death would have served for Eaton's death two weeks before, why was Santolne immune now? Did possession of the contents of Santoine's safe accomplish the same thing as Santoine's death? Or more than his death for these men? For what men? It was not, Santolne was certain, Eaton's presence In the study wdilch had so astounded Elatchford, Wallace and Eaton had passed days together, nnd Blatchford was accustomed to Eaton's Ea-ton's presence in the house. Someone whom Iilatehford knew nnd wdiose name Santolne also would know and whose presence In the room was so strange nnd astonishing that Elatchford Elatch-ford had tried to prepare Santolne for the announcement, had been there. The man whose name was on Blatch-ford's Blatch-ford's tongue, or the companion of that man, had shot Elatchford rather than let Santolne hear the name. He was beginning to find events fit themselves together; but they fitted Imperfectly as yet. Santoine knew that he lacked the key. Many men could profit by possessing pos-sessing the contents of Santolne's safe and might have shot Elatchford rather than let Santoine know their presence there; It was Impossible for Santolne to tell which among these many the man who had been In the study might be. Who Eaton's enemies were was equally unknown to Santoine. But there could be but one man or at most one small group of men who could be at the same time Eaton's enemy nnd Santoine's. To have known who Eaton was would have pointed this man to Santolne. Gabriel Warden had had an . appointment ap-pointment with a young man who had come from Asia and who Warden had told his wife he had discovered lately had been greatly wronged. Eaton, under Conductor Connery's questioning, had admitted himself to be that young man ; Santoine had verified veri-fied this and had learned that Eaton was, at least, the young man wdio had gone to Warden's house that night. But Gabriel Warden had not been allowed al-lowed to help Eion ; so far from that, he had not even iten allowed to meet and talk with Eaton ; he had been called out, plainly, to prevent his meeting Eaton, and tilled. Eaton disappeared and concealed himself at once after Warden's murder, mur-der, apparently fearing that he would also be attacked. But Eaton was not a man whom this personal fear would have restrained from coming forward later to tell why Warden had been killed. He iiad been urged to come forward and promised that others would give him help in Warden's place; still, he had concealed himself. This must mean that others than Warden War-den could not help Eaton ; Eaton evidently evi-dently did not know, or else could not hope to prove, what Warden had discovered. dis-covered. Santoine held this thought In abeyance; abey-ance; he would see later how It checked with the facts. Eaton had remained In Seattle or near Seattle eleven days; apparently and to escape attack during that time, ho had been able to conceal himself He had been obliged, however, to reveal re-veal himself when he took the train; nnd as soon as possible a desperate attempt bad been made against him, which, through mistake, had struck down Santoine instead of Eaton. Eaton had taken the train ut Seattle Se-attle because Santoine was on it; he' had done tills at great risk to himself. him-self. The possibilities were that Eaton Ea-ton had taken the train to inform Santoine San-toine of something or to learn something some-thing from him. But Eaton had had ample opportunity since to inform Santoine of anything he wished ; and he had not only not Informed him of anything, but had refused consistently and determinedly to answer any of Santoine's questions. It was to learn something from Santoine. then, that Eaton had taken the train. The blind man turned upon his bed; he was finding that events fitted together to-gether perfectly. He felt certain now that Eaton had gone to Gabriel Warden War-den expecting to get from Warden some Information that he needed, and that to prevent Warden's giving him this. Warden had been killed. Then Warden's death had caused Santoine to go to Seattle and take charge of many of Warden's affairs; Eaton had thought that the Information which had been In Warden's possession might now be In Santolne's ; Eaton, therefore, had followed Santolne onto the train. The inference was plain that something some-thing which would have given Santoine San-toine the Information Warden had had and which Eaton now required had been brought into Santoine's house and put In Santoine's safe. It was to get possession of this "something" before It had reached Santoine that the safe had been forced. Santoine put out his hand and pressed a bell. A servant came to the door. "Will you find Miss Santolne," the blind man directed, "and ask her to come here?" The servant withdrew. Santolne waited. Presently the door again opened, and he heard his daughter's daugh-ter's step. "Have you listed what was taken from the safe, Harriet?" Santolne asked. "Not yet. Father." The blind man thought an Instant. "Harriet, something has been brought Into the house or the manner of keeping something In the house has been changed within a very few days since the time, I think, when the attempt to run Eaton down with the motor car was made. What was that 'something'?" His daughter reflected. "The draft of the new agreement about the La-tron La-tron properties and the lists of stockholders stock-holders in the properties which came through Mr. Warden's office," she replied. re-plied. "Those were In the safe?" "Yes ; you had not given me any Instructions In-structions about them, so I had put them in the other safe; but when I went to get the correspondence I saw them there and put them with the correspondence in my own safe." Santoine lay still. "Who besides Donald knew that you did that, Daughter?" he asked. "No one." "Thank you." Harriet recognized this as dismissal and went out. The blind man felt the blood beating fiercely in bis temples and at his finger-tips. It amazed, as- IIP "Have You Listed What Was Taken From the Safe, Harriet?" Santoine Asked. tounded him to realize that Warden's murder and all that had followed it had sprung from the Latron case. He recollected that he had been vaguely conscious ever since Latron's murder of something strained, something not wholly open, In his relations with those men whose Interests had been most closely allied with Latron's. It had been nothing open, nothing palpable; pal-pable; it was only that he had felt at times In them a knowledge of some general condition governing them which was not wholly known to himself. Whoever Blatchford had seen was someone well known to him, whose presence had been so amazing that speech had failed Blatchford for the moment and he had feared the effect of the announcement on Santoine. San-toine. This could have been only the principal himself. Some circumstance which Santoine comprehended only Imperfectly as ye', had forced this man to come out from behind his agents and to act even at the risk of revealing himself. It was probably he who, finding Elatchford's presence made revealment inevitable, had killed Blatchford. But these circumstances cir-cumstances gave Santoine no clew as to who the man might be. The blind man tried vainly to guess. The only circumstance regarding the man of which Santoine now felt sure was that he was one of the many concerned con-cerned in the Latron case or with the Latron properties. "What time is it?" the blind man suddenly asked the nurse. "It is nearly noon, Mr. Santoine." "Will you leave me alone for a few moments?" he directed. lie listened till he heard the door close behind the nurse; then he seized the private 'phone beside his bed and called his broker. "How is the market?" he Inquired. There was something approaching to a panic on the stock exchange, it appeared. Some movement, arising from causes not yet clear, had dropped the bottom out of a score of important stocks. "How Is Pacific Midlands?" Santolne San-tolne asked. "It led the decline." Santoine felt the blood In his temples. tem-ples. "M. and N. Smelters?" he asked. "Down seven points." "8. F. and D?" "Eight points off." Santolne's hand, holding the telephone, tele-phone, shook in Its agitation; his head was hot from the blood rushing through it. bis body was chilled. An idea so strange, so astounding, so incredible in-credible as It first had come to him that his feelings refused It though his reason told him it was the only possible pos-sible condition which could account for all the facts, now was being made all but certain. He named stock after stock ; ail were down sVrlously depressed de-pressed or had been supported only by a desperate effort of their chief holders. The blind man could write as well as any other by following the position of the lines with the fingers of his left hand. He wrote a short note swiftly now, folded, sealed and addressed It and handed It to the servant. "Have that delivered by a messenger messen-ger at once," he directed. "There will be no written answer, I think; only something sent back a photograph. photo-graph. See that It is brought to me at once." He heard the servant's footsteps going rapidly away. He was shaking with anger, horror, resentment; he was almost not quite sure now of all that had taken place; of why Warden had been murdered, of what vague shape had moved behind and guided all that had happened since. He recalled Eaton's voice as he had heard it first on the train at Seattle; and now he was almost sure not quite that he could place that voice, that he knew wdiere he had heard 1J oeiore. He lay with clenched hands, shaking shak-ing with rage; then by effort of his will he put these thoughts away. The nurse reminded him again of his need for food. "I want nothing now," he said. "Have it ready when I wake up. When the doctor conies, tell him I am going to get up today and dress." He turned and stretched himself upon his bed ; so, finally, he slept. CHAPTER XXI The Man Hunt. The rolling, ravine-gullied land where Harriet had left Eaton was wooded thickly with oaks, maples and ash ; the glare from the burning bridge lighted the ravine for only a little way; Eaton had gained the bottom bot-tom of the ravine beyond the point where this light would have made him visible and had made the best speed he could along it away from the lights and voices on the road. This speed was not very great ; his stockinged feet sank to their ankles in the soft mud of the ravine; and when, realizing realiz-ing that he was leaving a trace easily followed even by lantern-light, he clambered to the steep side and tried to travel along its slope, he found his I progress slower still. In the darkness dark-ness he crashed sometimes full against the tree-trunks ; bushes which he could not see seized and held him, ripping and tearing at his clothes; invisible, fallen saplings tripped him, and he stepped Into unseen holes which threw him headlong, so that twice he rolled clear to the bottom of the ravine with fierce, hot pains which nearly deprived him of his senses shooting through his wouuded shoulder. shoul-der. When he had made, as he thought, fully three-quarters of a mile and must be, allowing for the winding of the ravine, at least half a mile from his pursuers, he climbed to the brink of the bank and looked back. He was not, as he had thought, half a mile from the road ; he was not a quarter of a mile; he could still see plainly the lights of the three motorcars upon the road and men moving in the flare of these lights. He was certain that he had recognized the figure of Avery among these men. Pursuit of him, however, appeared to have been checked for the moment ; he heard neither voices nor any movement in the woods. Eaton, panting, threw himself down to recover breath and strength to think. There was no question in Eaton'9 mind what his fate would be if he surrendered to, or was captured by, I his pursuers. What he had seen in Santoine's study an hour before was so unbelievable, so completely unde-monstrable unde-monstrable unless he himself could prove his story that he felt that he would receive no credence. Blatchford, Blatch-ford, who hail seen it in the light in the study, was dead; Santoine, who would have seen it if he had had eyes, was blind. Eaton, still almost stunned and yet wildly excited by that sight, felt only, in the mad confusion of his senses, the futility of telling what he had seen unless he were in a position to prove it. Those opposed to him would put his statement aside with the mere answer that he was lying; the most charitably inclined would think only that what he had been through had driven him insane. Eaton understood Hint his possibility possibil-ity of escape was very small, even if escape had been his only object; hut Eaton's problem was not one of escape es-cape it was to find those he pursued pur-sued and make certain that they were captured at the same time he was; ami. as he crouched panting on the damp earth, he was thinking only of that. (TO BE CONTINUED.) |