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Show l Bv JOSEPH McCORD wnu vwr, ' V INSTALLMENT TEN THE STORY SO FAR: Larry Cutter ing a contract providing that she maj watching him. She cashed one ot the startled pretty Jacqueline (Jack) An- continue to live as she is living (or six bonds when her father, Vince Anthony, thony, public stenographer at the Hotel months, after which she could tear up needed an operation. When she visited Raynear, by telling her she could realize the contract. He gave her 510,000 as him she was greatly relieved to learn her globe-trotting ambitions by marry- surety. Jacqueline warned Larry when the operation was successful, ing him. They were married after sign- she learned that Detective Staples was Now continue with the story. I -- Jacqueline's relief was unspeakably, unspeak-ably, but already she was face to face with a problem that must be solved within a short time. What must she do when Vince left the hospital? She could not take him home with her to her little apartment, apart-ment, and he could not go back to that dreadful room in Elder street. He would need care for a long time perhaps. How could she manage that? . . . And there was all this expense. ex-pense. Dr. Kennedy's bill. The cash from that bond presented present-ed only a temporary solution. It was merely a loan. And that reminded re-minded her . . . Vince's second week was up. She would settle that on her way out; that would be one less worry. It proved to be one more. The clerk . at the cashier's window thumbed hastily through a file and extracted a card. "This account was settled today, and an advance of one week paid on the room. This envelope was left with me when I came on duty. I believe it is your receipt." There were two pieces of paper in the envelope. One was a statement state-ment from the hospital, including the operation expense and a week's additional rental for Vince's room. A rubber stamp indicated the account ac-count was paid. Dated today. The other appeared to be a leaf torn from a memorandum book, scrawled over with a man's handwriting: hand-writing: "Received from Miss Jacqueline Anthony, even date, the sum of two-hundred two-hundred dollars ($200.00). Account in full. Thanks. Erasmus Kennedy, M. D.Larry, D.-Larry, of course. Jacqueline stuffed the receipts into her bag and left the building. Her first reaction was a hot resentment. re-sentment. Larry had no right to place her under obligation that way.-It way.-It had been hard enough to do what she had for Vince . . . swallowed all her pride. All this was involving involv-ing her more deeply in . . . In what? Perhaps Larry meant only to be kind. But this hurt . . . she gave a little gasp of consternation. It hadn't occurred to her before. If she insisted upon paying these bills, she would be forced to do it . . . with Larry's money! How could she ever have become enmeshed in such a net of circumstances? circum-stances? But she would have this out with Larry the very first time there was a chance to talk to him. Jacqueline gave up the puzzle with a tragic little groan that was very nearly a sob. Unfortunately for her peace of mind, there was no sign of the errant er-rant Larry Cutter during the ensuing ensu-ing days. He might be in hiding, for all she knew . . . But you would think he would be sufficiently interested to want to hear about Vince, how nicely he was getting along now. Vince's improvement was the only bright spot,. In another week or so, Vince would be leaving the hospital. And for . . . where? That problem struck her with renewed re-newed force when she called to see Vince that night. He was propped high in his bed. He was smoking, and waved a cigarette at her cheerfully. cheer-fully. "Hello, Skipper!" "I am better. Feel fine. And I had a caller. A friend of yours." "Who, Vince?" "Mr. Cutter. He was here almost two hours. Seemed to know you pretty well." "Oh, yes . . . We're quite good friends." ' "Where'd you meet him?" "He's been staying at the hotel for quite a while ... off and on. I've done quite a little work for him." "He's a nice fellow. And he's an engineer, Skipper." Vince beamed. "I don't know when I've met a fellow fel-low you could talk to the way you can with him. He's got a head on his shoulders. Smart as a whip." "Do you think so?" "I'll say. I was telling him about my new invention. He was so interested in-terested and seemed to understand so well what I was trying to do that . . ." Vince smiled a trifle sheepishly. "I guess I spilled pretty nearly the whole works to him. But I know he isn't the kind of a fellow to try to do me out of anything." "Oh, I'm quite sure he wouldn't." "That's the way I size him up . . . especially since he's a friend of yours." Vince lowered his voice. "Cutter says I'll be making a big mistake if I don't go ahead with this thing. I wouldn't wonder a bit if he'd help me launch the blamed thing . . . get it started, you know." "I wouldn't worry about it yet," Jacqueline suggested cheerily, trying try-ing to hide the dismay she felt. Suppose Sup-pose Vince were to accept Larry's help! She knew from a long and bitter bit-ter experience about those "inventions." "inven-tions." "You must get well and strong again before you even think about work." She resolutely changed the subject sub-ject until the time came for her to lake her departure. As she reached the street, a tall figure loomed out of the shadows and a familiar voice spoke. "I thought you'd be coming out about this time," Larry said, smiling. smil-ing. "Busy for a little while?" Without With-out waiting for an answer, he tucked his wife's arm through his and started start-ed across the street. "The car's over here," he explained. After they had left the hospital behind, be-hind, he offered: "I had a sort of sneaking idea you were set to give me a lecture, so I thought I'd be obliging. How about it?" "I do want to talk to you," Jacqueline Jac-queline said soberly. "And you thought I was keeping out of your way." Larry had a disconcerting dis-concerting way of figuring things out. "Shoot." "I don't know what to say . . ." Jacqueline began unhappily. "Of course I want to thank you first of all for paying those bills . . . for Vince . . . but . . . but I wish you hadn't." "I don't see why, my dear," Larry Lar-ry said. "I can't think of any better bet-ter use of money than taking worries wor-ries off your shoulders." "That's just it!" she cried softly. "Can't you see that . . . that it hurts?" , "I'd never hurt you, Jack. I just want to . . . help By the way, I hope you don't mind my dropping in "He's got a head on his shoulders. shoul-ders. Smart as a whip." on your father today. I thought, maybe, he might be finding the days long." "It was goocj of you. He appreciated appre-ciated it." "Nothing of the sort. I had a good time and a very interesting visit. He sure is wrapped up in his latest project . . . very anxious to get back to it." "Larry!" she burst out, in spite of herself. "All Vince's inventions have been . . . duds. Ever since I can remember. When one flops, he just goes on to the next." "You know," Larry observed musingly, mus-ingly, "inventors are queer animals. I should know, being a son of my father. And as for duds . . . sometimes, some-times, they go off unexpectedly. All this talk and the moonlight have put me in a reminiscent mood, Jack. Won't you let me show you a relic of my youth? It's not so far from here . . . not more than an hour." "What is it you wish me to see?" "The birthplace of a hero." "Yours, you mean? All right. I'll go . . . for the ride." When the city was left behind, Jacqueline said, "Isn't the moonlight moon-light beautiful? Did you ever notice how it seems to ... to take the rough edges off everything?" "Hope that includes me," Larry ventured. "You are rather nice . . at times," was his reward. "Thanks. But I was going to tell you about our old place." "Does some one live in it now?" "No, worse luck, and it seems to be going to pieces. I always wished I might get it for myself and make it look the way it did when I was a kid. Guess I told you my dad lost all his money." "Yes." "He and your dad would have hit it off well." Larry observed unexpectedly. unex-pectedly. "The old gentleman was quite a scientist. The basement of our place was his laboratory and workshop and he almost lived in it." Larry's voice died away. He was staring at the road ahead of the car. "Has your mother been . . . gone long?" she ventured. "Died less than two years after my father. I think I was more self-reliant self-reliant than he was. When he died, there didn't seem so much left for mother. And . . . here's where we leave the main road," Larry observed, ob-served, making a right turn. "The next crossroad marks the line of our old properly." A few moments later, on the crest j of a wooded knoll, he swerved the roadster into the weeds at the side j of the thoroughfare and cut off the motor. "Well, here . . ."He leaned forward, for-ward, staring intently past his companion. com-panion. A little exclamation of delight escaped es-caped Jacqueline. There, in the brightly lighted clearing, stood an unusual house. It was long and low, with four former windows set in its steeply pitched roof. The central entrance door was shaded by a por-, tico adorned with heavy, square columns. col-umns. On either side of the main structure, an ell. Bathed in moonlight, moon-light, the clapboard walls appeared as white as though freshly painted. Even the windows, many of them with shattered panes, seemed able! to hide their scars. "Larry! What a beautiful little home!" Jacqueline said breathlessly. breathless-ly. "What a shame that no one is living liv-ing in it. Has it been empty long?" "Ever since, we lost it. The owner own-er never used it." "But, Larry . . . that high wire fence looks as though it were new." "It is," was the grim retort. "Brand-new." "Why do you suppose it's there? It even has barbed-wire on the top." "Yes. I've noticed. The owner must have decided that he didn't want anybody fooling around there." Larry leaned back in his seat, filled and lighted his pipe and sat smoking in silence. Jacqueline sensed that he was thinking deeply and did not disturb him. She resumed re-sumed her study of the old house, trying to picture how it must have looked in former days, how it would look now with the soft glow of lamps , shining from the black windows. There should be climbing roses over those columns. She would clear away the encroaching underbrush, build a wide, velvety lawn . . . take away the tumble-down stable in the rear. And that disfiguring fence. It seemed to run ... "Larry!" She whispered his name, catching at his arm. "There's somebody standing in those bushes over there. I . . .1 saw him move!" Larry shifted his position slightly and leaned forward, one arm resting on the wheel. "Hey, you, over there!" he called sharply. A deep silence followed.-. Jacqueline Jacque-line held her breath. The bushes rustled and the dim figure of a man appeared. After standing uncertainly uncertain-ly for an instant, he strolled forward. for-ward. He was a short, heavily set man wearing a sweater pulled up about'his neck. "That will do," Larry ordered brusquely. "What's the big idea?" "Just what I was goin' to ask you, mister. You're on private property here. Better go somewhere else to do your neckin'." Jacqueline felt Larry's arm grow tense. "We have been admiring the house," he answered, quietly. "Do you happen to know if it is for sale and who owns it?" "Don't know." "It doesn't look so valuable. I should think that fence would be protection pro-tection enough without you ..." "That ain't none of your business. You'd better be movin' on." "Please!" Jacqueline whispered. Larry chuckled as he started his motor. "What a dreadful looking man!" she gasped. "He's a guard or something, some-thing, isn't he?" "Has all the earmarks of one. That seems to be a valuable piece of property . . . Maybe I can'tjiave it, after all." Jacqueline pondered that remark in silence. Larry made another turn. "What a beautiful house that is over there!" Jacqueline exclaimed. "Yes, that's some joint. By the way, it's where the present owner of Fairlawn lives." "Fairlawn?" ! "Yes, the former Cutter castle. My mother gave it that name." "It's a pretty name. But I thought you didn't know the owner's name. You asked the man who it was, didn't you?" "Sure, I know. I was just seeing how much the gentleman would talk." Jacqueline laughed. Then they were silent. "Larry," she said suddenly, "I can't help wondering something. That man who owns your house . . . is he a friend of yours?" "I wouldn't say that, exactly. What's on your mind now?" "Something Lieutenant Staples said to me. I didn't tell you before, because you didn't ask. But he did say that there was someone . . . And then, when I saw the way that house was guarded . . ." "Fine! You do read mystery stories, sto-ries, after all." Jacqueline subsided with a distinct dis-tinct feeling of disappointment. Larry Lar-ry wasn't going to tell her anything, after all. But she was satisfied ol several things now. The same man who was having Larry watched was the owner of that house. It was Larry 'hom he was trying to kecr ( II the property, out of the home tr.at had been his father's. (TO UECONTIKVKD) |