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Show WEDDING MARCH J W I J j j )) f 3 I ! c,Mu::rni By MONTE BARRETT CHAPTER X Continued 16 Kilday snorted. "I think that girl 3 warped your Judgment, Peter. I stand by my case." No, wait," Peter cautioned. "We n't afford to overlook a single bet. rhaps we know whnt the mur-rer mur-rer was looking for here? Didn't i come here ourselves, In search some clue that would Identify mysterious woman In blue for ? Didu't you attempt to Identify se keys In the hope that sooner later, one of them might help the Identification of that woman? His told us she was In love with mklin. He overheard her con-sation con-sation with Franklin Just before' murder. 'What's to prevent the murderer m having the same hunch that we i? If It was that woman, say, ! with his left hand. It struck something, some-thing, a chair probably, and 6lid to the Moor with a noise that seemed uncanny In the unnatural stillness. Ills eyes ached with the effort to penetrate the blackness. Nothing happened. His enemy was too canny to be taken In like that. It Irked him, and yet he yielded the man a grudging admiration. It explained why the fellow hadn't attacked at-tacked him as he came through the door. He was taking no chance of the struggle being overheard In the corridor. In that event, he might be in one of the other rooms by now. There might be an exit by way of a fire-escape. Or one of the other offices might have an entrance opening on the corridor. The thought hastened Peter's movements. He must capture the man, before he had opportunity to escape. Silently, as before, he moved around the table, anxious once more to reach the partial security of the wall. He rounded the table, his left hand extended before him, his right at his side clutching the revolver. re-volver. lie was warned, ne did not know how. It might have been the faintest whisper of breath a slight rustle of movement. Or that even more vague instinct of danger which he had often felt before. Whatever It was, he sensed his peril and whirled, swiftly, to face the room. The blow caught Peter on the back of the jaw, near the ear, just as he was turning. It was a terrific smash, that would have ended the struggle right then, had he not turned when he did. As it was, It glanced off, but its force knocked him off balance and sent him sprawling to the floor on all fours. The novelist's quarry had used the same strategy that Peter had adopted. He had been standing, back to the wall, waiting to catch his enemy en-emy between himself and the vague light of the windows. As Peter rounded the table he came into the position for which the man had been waiting. At the impact of the blow, Peter's Pe-ter's revolver clattered to the floor. Partly dazed, the novelist lost a precious pre-cious moment in groping for the weapon in the darkness. In that instant in-stant his enemy was upon him. The accuracy of a second blow wras spoiled by the darkness. It caught Peter on the shoulder, but it served to acquaint his assailant with his whereabouts. The man was on his back, raining blows down upon him, terrific, flail-like blows, that bruised and stunned, but still could find no vital spot. Unless he could reverse the tables, and quickly, Peter realized real-ized he was through. He drew his right leg up under him, and then kicked out with all his strength. His lashing foot caught the other man In the ankle and sent him spinning against the table. Peter Pe-ter kicked again, but the second effort ef-fort missed. However, he was free of those crushing blows. Once more he groped for his weapon, but could thoroughly, but we looked In every place It was reasonable to believe Franklin might have papers or pictures pic-tures which could have Identified this woman. We are moderately sale In assuming that he found nothing noth-ing here. That being true, what would be his next move? "The evidence he feared might betray him Is still missing. He has the same reason to fear discovery that he bad when he searched this place, will he stop now? I don't think so. We've struck a warm trail, Sergeant." "You think he'll attempt to find and destroy this evidence somewhere some-where else?" "That's what I would do, if I were In bis shoes," declared the novelist. novel-ist. "I feel pretty sure I would conclude con-clude that the evidence was In the only other place it could be bis office. of-fice. That's where I'd look next." "We've looked there," the detective detec-tive objected. "We didn't find anything." any-thing." "We didn't go all through his files." Peter was emphatic. "But that isn't the point. The murderer doesn't know we've looked, does he? I maintain that the man who was so anxious to find something here will probably look there next. Unless he's already beeD there. It's worth trying. Let's go there and see. You have Franklin's keys. We can set a trap for him." Kilday, still wedded to his theory that Webster Spears was the murderer, mur-derer, was nevertheless Impressed. "It would probably be a wild goose chase, but Td do it if I hadn't sent word to Bullis to be at my office. I'm going to confront him with Cal-lis Cal-lis Shipley and see if he can or will identify her as the woman he saw quarreling with Franklin In that study. They're both probably waiting wait-ing for me by now." "Then let me have the keys," urged Peter. "I'll go alone. It's worth trying, anyway." "If you don't have a revolver, you'd better take this one." Kilday thrust a blue automatic Into his friend's hand as they parted. "Not," he added, "that I think you'll need it." Peter laughed. "It's always the unloaded gun that goes off," he retorted, re-torted, "and the hunch that looks like a flivver sometimes brings home the bacon." The offices of Franklin and Dunbar Dun-bar were on the second floor of the Greer building. Peter was familiar with the general plan as a result of his previous visit there with Dunbar Dun-bar and Kilday. In the taxi, he formulated a plan. Franklin's keys would admit him without difficulty. Once Inside he decided he would wait in Franklin's private office, In darkness, in order that his presence might not be detected and frighten off the intruder, should he come. It was just eight o'clock, but the building was nearly deserted. With the exception of one globe, burning burn-ing in front of the elevator, and a red bulb at the end of the corridor, marking a fire exit, the floor was in darkness. Most of the doors were paneled with glass, so that a light within would betray their occupancy, occu-pancy, but this was not true of the suite occupied by Franklin and Dunbar. Dun-bar. A number of offices had been thrown Into one large suite for this firm, and here a walnut paneled facade, fa-cade, with a solid door, barred the corridor. Teter had not expected that. He hesitated in front of the door, keys in hand. What if the unknown visitor vis-itor he was expecting were already here? Would be not be stepping iuto a trap of his own making? He frowned at the panels In search of some telltale gleam of light which would betray some one within, but If there were a light beyond that facade, be could not detect It. Well, It was a risk he had to take. He sldfted the keys to his left hand and drew the revolver Kilday had loaned him. If his quarry were already al-ready here, Peter did not Intend to lie caught napping. Even as he took the precaution, the novelist chuckled to himself. "I'm going In for melodrama," melo-drama," he told himself. "There's no one here." The first key he cautiously tried did not fit. He withdrew it and selected se-lected another whose Irregularity seemed to conform with the outline of the slot in the lock. This time It fitted. There was only a slight click as be thrust the key home, but it sounded slartlingly loud In the stillness still-ness of that corridor. How had the key made such a sound? Then he smiled at bis nervousness again. "Don't get jumpy," be cautioned himself as be turned the key. The door swung open with a slight creak and Peter stopped Into the dark ollice, his eyes straining to pierce the thickness of the gloom. His fingers groped for the light switch. It should be somewhere near the door. ..Then he stopped rigid. Were his nerves playing tricks again? Or was there some one else in the room? He remembered that slight click that had startled him, outside. It hadn't been nerves, then. He recognized recog-nized the sound now. It hud been the throwing olT of the electric switch. Warned by the rattle of bis key In the lock, whoever shared this room with him had turned off the lights. Peter gripped his revolver tighter. tight-er. He was convinced that he was standing within a few feet of Jim Franklin's murderer. CHAPTER XI In the Dark. 'TP HE room was in darkness a Sty-gian Sty-gian blackness that was impenetrable. impene-trable. Peter concluded that the blinds had been drawn against observing ob-serving eyes, because almost no light filtered through the windows. He closed bis eyes to accustom them to the lack of light. When he opened them again he could decry two rectangles, rect-angles, ligJiter than the gloom about him. The windows. They were to his left. Swiftly he outlined a plan of battle. He must reach the wall to the right, to prevent surprise from the rear. Then, hugging the wall, he could move slowly forward until his foe was silhouetted against the faint glow of the windows. With his thumb he released the safety on his revolver. The slight metallic noise of It sounded loud against the hushed background of the room. The faint tang of tobacco tobac-co was in the air. Where was that wall? Peter wished fervently that he had not advanced so far into the room. He did not dare raise his feet. Any collision with unseen furniture any noise, no matter how slight would betray his exact whereabouts to his quarry. Cautiously Cau-tiously he slid his feet along the floor, thankful for the thick silent pile of the rug. Below In the street a car changed gears. Queer, how outside noises drifted Into the stillness here. He could even hear his own breathing. Peter stopped then, holding his breath. Perhaps he was close enough to hear the telltale whisper of the other fellow's breathing. There was no sound here only the muffled distant noises from outside. out-side. Once more he moved cautiously cautious-ly forward. Again he stopped. This time It was the ticking of his own watch which disturbed him. If he could hear it, perhaps the other fellow fel-low could, too. He crouched, unbuckling the wristband, and slid the offending timepiece along the floor, several feet behind him, never once relinquishing relin-quishing his grip on the revolver. Once more he peered about him, his eyes straining to pierce the blackness. Except for the barely discernible outlines of the windows, there was nothing by which he could get his bearings. He searched his mind for some memory of the room, some characteristic which might be of value to him now. He could think of nothing. Still, he could not be far from the wall opposite the windows. Once there, his chance of finding the other man, without himself being found, was much better. bet-ter. He resumed his cautious advance. ad-vance. His foot struck something. His grip on the revolver tightened. He explored with his free hand. It was only a chair. He moved around it and advanced again slowly, slow-ly, silently. And then he found the wall. With a feeling of relief, he backed against It, facing the room. If he were surprised now, It would not be from the rear. Then, still taking every precaution against any sound which might betray be-tray his whereabouts, he sidled along the wall, exploring the room with slightly more success, now that he had the room silhouetted between be-tween himself and the windows. Peter Pe-ter moved on slowly. Ills back struck a picture on the wall. It scraped against the plaster, but did not fall. He caught his breath and moved more quickly. If the fellow were tempted to shoot at the sound, it would be just as well not to be there. Next he encouutcred a table against the wall. His progress here was blocked. He would have to move around it, once more exposing his rear to attack. Again he paused to listen. He was tempted to believe that his nerves had deceived him that there was no one else In this room, after all. And yet he could not forget that click of the light switch, before he opened the door. Nor the odor of tobacco. And then there was the drawn blinds. Why should the shades of an office be drawn in this way? No, there was certainly some one here. Peter thought of the picture he had nearly knocked from the wall. It had almost betrayed him. His lingers explored the table top. The incident had suggested a new strategy. If he could, by some means, cause the other man to betray be-tray his whereabouts, the rest should be simple, lie found a calendar calen-dar pud. Still gripping the revolver, lie tossed the pad across the room V - 1 - ') V f tThink That Girl Has Warped r Your Judgment, Peter." '.. she knew Franklin possessed ;rs, or pictures which might j tify her, wouldn't it be reason-, reason-, to expect her to make some at-((jt at-((jt to get them? Of course It Jld. If that evidence exists, its '.ruction removes our last hope Diving the mystery of Franklin's ,: h." )h, yeah?" Kilday's smile was c ive. "I thought you were con-r con-r ed that a woman couldn't have ,! 'ered that blow?" c 'm coming to that," Peter hur-(,'-on impatiently. "Suppose, as we z--ive, that crime was committed man. That still doesn't elim-'r'i elim-'r'i this woman in blue as a pos-sfc pos-sfc motive for the crime. She '"'it have been the daughter, sis-1:ir sis-1:ir wife of the slayer. Wouldn't i;a itill be Interested in removing a (evidence of her identity which ,zs t possibly Identify him with the "ire? ;or'e have a peculiar case, Ser-ya! Ser-ya! t. The knife with which the an was committed; the curtain ite- which it was wiped; the re- t'.ir bearing the slain man's r. ib-print, and possibly that key-WI, key-WI, found in Franklin's pocket are wnly real clues we have found. (-..e has been an abundance of ise: IR'e' lJ1'oviued y the activities l"s .glit or nine persons, most of ji had motives which might have and led the Dulr1 Theoretically, 0;heory upon which we are hold-i hold-i a'Yeb.sler Spears Is sound. But ' his arrest, this apartment has Tt, rilled and we cannot afford to ook the significance of this." ldetor rmised in his restless pac-f pac-f the room to face his friend. br0"?ose J'ou were the man who loo;erod Jira Franklir. nd you oimnitted the crime because of jivoman In blue. What would e doing now? What would you unlinking? rut yourself In the le ''mil's place." li:-l be trying to keep from get-if get-if taught," was the sergeant's suc-se suc-se d; reply. da? course," reter agreed. "But S! Now I" lie glanced at the of l-'slon about him which marked rtb 'I'uHnieiit had been ransacked ile; I had heen the murderer, I mpltf be trying to remove any posies pos-ies evidence that would connect re (' the woman In blue with the ass- As for myself, I'd probably n,e:.ii!'e enough. But that woman 1,18 s: worry me. She loved Frank- pj ( Probably he had letters, some-tue some-tue or a picture which might ul-, ul-, iily reveal her Idcntily to the In 1" And If they found her. It tue, be easy to find me, because , lofi' i'l Is some one In whom the jro ''T Is vitally Interested his 3 e'ciu-t, sister or wife. That's re. ) would be figuring. Why isn't bulilie answer to the search that tne:?en made of this apartment? gars'-oiuerer Is making his calcu-g(j calcu-g(j Mi in very much the same way. sn P we were here before him," relist pointed out. "Of course t03iii:n't take things apart quite as The Blow Caught Peter on the Back of the Jaw. not find it. Again he had wasted a precious second In vain search for the revolver. Too late now. reter rolled to the right quickly to avoid the other'3 rush. Only one blow caught him, and he was half-way to his feet before they came to grips. Once more the blows rained ou him, fierce hammers of rage, any one of which might end the struggle if it landed in a vital spot, reter was thankful for the darkness which prevented accuracy. Nor was he helpless now. With all his strength he hurled his fists at his invisible in-visible foe, and found an uncertain exultation at the hard Impact of his knuckles which told him they ' had found a target. j (TO BE CONTINUED.) |