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Show Myf BLACK rA WhCLIFFORD KNIGHT - Xl Elsa Chatfleld, Hollywood artist, ll disinherited dis-inherited by her Aunt Kitty, who died from an overdose of morphine. Hunt Roger! and Barry Madison, sleuths, co to Mazatlan, Mexico, to solve what they believe to be Kitty Chatfleld's murder. On arriving they find that Elsa's party had preceded them by plane. During a fiesta at the ranch of Sam Chatficld (Elsa's father) James Chescbro is murdered. mur-dered. Lombardo, Mexican police chief, arrests Reed Barton, but he Is later released. re-leased. While fishing for martin, Sam Chatfleld has a strike. As he Is about to land the fish, his swivel chair gives way and he topples out. The marlLn's rapier-lute rapier-lute sword drives through htm and he sank below the waves. CHAPTER XIV I saw the black, wicked point emerge through the white shirt on his back, and then instantly in one mighty threshing of foaming water, Sam Chatfleld, impaled upon the cruel weapon, swordflsh and all tank below into the depths of the sea. We stared horrified from the rocking rock-ing launch at the spot where they sank. For some moments huge billowing bil-lowing masses of bubbles streaked with blood came boiling up to the surface. Finally even these ceased, and the dancing, sparkling waters of a blue sea held no sign of what had happened. Rogers accompanied Dwight and Reed Barton that afternoon when they went solemnly into the lounge to break the news. The rest of us baby which had so startled us al only a few days previously. Undeniably Un-deniably it was a most appealing picture; Rumble was right when he said it contained heart interest. But those damnable cut lines underneath the picture: "Elsa Chatfleld, whose caricatures have recently won wide acclaim, and her small daughter, Mary Frances." "That was a lousy thing for Rumble Rum-ble to do," I said. "His explanation was plausible and quite innocent of any intent to harm." "Lousy just the same, for the effect ef-fect that it must have had back home. I wonder if Elsa dares face it now. It will revive among her friends and acquaintances the old story that once re-echoed up and down South Orange Grove Avenue in Pasadena." "I remember Dwight's telling us of it." "Hard on Elsa." "Very." "Especially now that Chesebro's dead." I passed the clipping back to him and he took it and studied it for a long while under the light. "Now that Chesebro's dead, his picture will be in the papers. The two so close together, in point of time Chesebro's and Elsa's with the baby will set everybody who's interested in-terested to comparing the two." Rogers put the clipping down and inhaled deeply of his cigarette. He rilpw trip Kmnlrfl fi-nm til'c limps in a ed his legs outside of the launch and stepped down upon the deck of the yacht. I followed, holding my back. "I think that we should have a talk with George." he said. A little group of household servants serv-ants clustered about the huge studded stud-ded door as we drew up at the ranch. Willing hands helped Berta from the taxi; scurrying feet went to prepare the 'way, while Berta, round and plump and widowed, made a pathetic figure between Elsa and Margaret as they helped her to the seclusion of her room in the great house. Rogers and I hung our hats on the rack at the entrance and prepared to wait In the big living room until we could in decency depart to a more cheerful atmosphere. Rogers offered his cigarettes and lighted one himself. "It's all very puzzling, Barry," said Rogers with a sigh. "I don't make much of it. To get back, though," he continued, "to the case of Kitty Chatfleld; everybody has been frank to confess a motive of sorts, ranging from Elsa's bitter hatred of her aunt down to Rumble's unpaid bill. Again, in the death of Chesebro, Rumble has a well-defined motive; Reed Barton and Dwight Nichols have motives equally good; and Elsa, the other day, while still very angry, threatened to kill him. Whatever it was that roused her to were purposely occupied with getting get-ting the launch stowed on deck and preparing to weigh anchor, for we were, of course, returning immediately immedi-ately to Mazatlan. Dwight came out at last, followed by Rogers and Reed Barton. The latter two joined me at the rail, while Dwight walked lowly forward to the bridge. "Berta took it very hard," Rogers Rog-ers commented, as if making a required re-quired report. "In fact, she went to pieces. It was all that Margaret and Elsa could do to quiet her. Margaret Mar-garet gave her a sleeping powder, and she'll probably soon be asleep." We came abreast the harbor entrance en-trance and into smoother going; the yacht ceased to roll in the long wells. Something was on Rogers' mind. It was quite obvious, now that I had learned to recognize his moods. "Barry," he said speculatively, "could this afternoon's tragedy have been entirely an accident, do you think?" "It couldn't have been anything else. An accident, you know, may . have many purely coincidental f acton ac-ton In it, but they all click In sequence. se-quence. That's what constitutes an accident. How else, except by accident, ac-cident, would a swordflsh stab a man to death?" "I don't mean the swordfish's part In it," he said. "That, of course, is quite accidental. But could It have been an accidental factor In the sequence se-quence you speak of for the chair to break?" "It did break." "Yes, I know, but " "You're wondering If someone could have tampered with the chair with the expectation of causing an accident." "Exactly." "Well perhaps." "Of course it's an Idea that requires re-quires exploring. But there's, a practical prac-tical side to it; was or was not the seat tampered with? And can we determine at this time whether it was or not? Let's go see." Without waiting for my reply Rogers Rog-ers walked aft to the launch which was stowed in its cradle. We paused beside it in the dusk. "Have you a flashlight, Barry?" "I'll get one." "I can re-assemble the mechanism," mecha-nism," Rogers remarked after tome tinkering, "if you'll hold the light for me, Barry." He gave it to me and I directed the rays while he fitted together the several parts. He soon had it complete, except for a nut I am not much of a mechanic, but Rogers had demonstrated that he was quite good at it, and soon we had the chair back in what seemed normal working order. "The swivel seems to work all right. Sit down in it, Barry, and let me watch the mechanism." I aat down as he requested. "Now rock back and forth in it, and swing round and round In it." I followed his instructions, while he lay fiat on his stomach and with the aid of the flashlight peered underneath. un-derneath. Suddenly and without warning the seat collapsed under me and I fell with it in a heap. Rogers, exhibiting extraordinary agility for a man so large, managed man-aged to escape unhurt "Didn't hurt you, did it, Barry?" he inquired, sitting up, hugging his knees. My back had suffered a alight wrench, and I said so. "I'm orry," he apologized, "but you ware nearer Sam Chatfleld's weight than I." "Do you think, then, that somebody some-body tampered with the chair?" "What about George?" "Last night while we were anchored, an-chored, and before any of us had gone ashore, Elsa and I were at the rail. Somebody was loafing in the launch alone and in the dark. Elsa asked me who was down there. I thought it was some one of the hands, perhaps. And then George Rumble climbed out and came up the ladder." Rogers got slowly to his feet, shift- thin cloud before he spoke again. "Unquestionably, Barry, it's Chesebro's child," he said. "You can't mistake it if you have even half an eye for such things." We sat silently turning over in our thoughts once more the implications impli-cations in this most amazing of the many strange events that had occurred oc-curred to us. As we sat there in the study there came the sound of a motor car on the gravel outside. It stopped and the motor was shut off. There followed the sound of voices, and footsteps upon the graveled approach. ap-proach. A brief command in Spanish Span-ish was given at which Rogers sat up quickly. I translated the words in the voice of the jefe del policia; "Bring the prisoner!" Pedro, the pulque seller, stood in the living room between Lombardo and the latter's satellite, Alvarez. He made a sorry-looking figure, in contrast to the neatly dressed Dr. Miguel Cruz, who was In the party, and the uniformed police. His white cotton trousers were wrinkled and stained with dust; his white shirt was so torn that much of his brown back was visible. His sharp foxlike fox-like face was haggard. His small dark eyes were dull with weariness. He was bareheaded and barefooted. I had not noticed before now that the man's left arm was bandaged just below the elbow. The rag was dirty and there was an old stain of blood upon it. Pedro, I noted, kept that arm quietly and with a minimum mini-mum of movement at his side. "Pedro has reflected upon his conduct of that night he ran away; he regrets that he did so, eh, Pedro?" Pe-dro?" "Yes, sir." "And he is eager now to co-operate with us." "Yes, sir." "You wish to go ahead with the enactment?" "Of course, Senor Rogers." "May I suggest that we are not all here? Senores Nichols, Barton, and Rumble are not present." "They are following us, senor. I talked with Senor Nichols before I started with the prisoner." "Senor Chatfleld of course " "It is very sad the death of Senor Chatfleld. I heard that he had died at sea, but I do not know the details, de-tails, senor." "I'll tell you. Let Pedro sit down." Rogers pointed to a chair. "And you and Doctor Cruz come with us into the study." Alvarez and the prisoner relaxed outside in the living room. Lombardo Lom-bardo and Cruz followed us into the study. I poured a whiskey and soda for them and we sat down. Rogers Rog-ers began a detailed account of the accident, omitting, however, all our speculations as to the part Rumble might have played in it. "It is very sad, senor, the death of so good a man as Senor Chatfleld," Chat-fleld," Lombardo said when Rogers had finished. "Were the gentlemen Senor Nichols Nich-ols and the others coming immediately, immedi-ately, Senor Lombardo?" I inquired. "I believe so, Senor Madison. When I mentioned to Senor Nichols that Pedro had been returned to Mazatlan, and that I wished to proceed pro-ceed with my investigation, he said that he would try to find Senor the caballero with the very fine clothes and bring him along. Who knows" and he shrugged his shoulders shoul-ders "but what he is the guilty one? We must have all who were here that night of the fiesta." "Of course," Rogers answered. The next moment a car rolled up to the front door, the motor died with a cough, and footsteps sounded briskly upon the gravel. "It is they, senores," said Lombardo, Lom-bardo, rising and leading the way into the living room. Dwight Nichols entered the doorway door-way with Reed Barton at his heels. They took in at a glance the faci that we had been waiting. (TO BE CONTINUED) "She's gone to sleep," was the calm answer. such anger, she has not divulged to me. Do you know what it was?" "No." "You seem to have Elsa's confidence confi-dence to a greater degree than the rest of us, Barry." "I'm proud of that fact, Hunt, but she's not told me what was between be-tween her and Chesebro that day." Rogers yawned and looked at his watch. "I wonder," he said, "if we'll have time to look up Rumble when we go back down town tonight?" to-night?" "I should think so. He'll be around somewhere, of course." Rogers got up and went out into the living room. He was growing restless and I uspected that he was hoping to catch a glimpse of Margaret Mar-garet or Elsa and, if po'ssible, hasten our departure. He came back presently pres-ently without having seen anyone. As he stood on the threshold his gaze strayed to the shadows above the built-in book shelves. His muscles mus-cles tightened perceptibly and an odd look came into his face. He walked to the desk and lifted the oil lamp overhead the better to see. "It gave me a start, Barry," he said. "So natural it looks as if it's up there." By this time I was on my feet, staring up at the mounted head of a marlin, its long spearpoint thrust out into the room, the glass eyes supplied by the taxidermist seemingly seem-ingly possessed of all the wickedness wicked-ness that must have shone through the natural ones when its owner swam the blue seas. He continued for some moments to examine the trophy, then climbed down, replaced the lamp and resumed re-sumed his seat "Gruesome thing to have around now," he remarked casually. His left hand strayed to the desk blotter where several letters let-ters and papers were tucked in the pocket corners, fingering them idly. Rogers suddenly reached into the center of a small bunch of letters in a corner pocket of the blotter and drew forth a clipping from the rotogravure ro-togravure section of a newspaper. "What have you found?" I asked. "Something?" "Yes, something interesting." He passed it across to me and I took it and held it to the light. "I have one like it Exhibit A, I think I called it; you've told me that Reed Barton has one. It seems that Sam Chatfleld procured one also." It was the picture of Elsa and the |