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“She stays here!” Jim cried.


32 CA LIBER
by
Donald McGibeny
Frontispiece by
HUGH MACKEY
INDIANAPOLIS
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS


CopyRIGHT 1920
THE BoBBs-MERRILL CoMPANY
Printed in the United States of America
press of
BRAunworth & Co.
Book MANur ActureRs
BROOklyn, N. Y.


CHAPTER
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
CONTENTS
BRING JIM HERE
Two MEN AND A Wom AN
I CouLD KILL HIM
THE WORST HAPPENS .
ACCIDENT OR MURDER .
A CLUE AND A VERDICT
ITURN DETECTIVE
IT LOOKS BAD FOR HELEN
LOOK OUT, JIM . . .
I ACCUSE ZALNITCH
A DouBLE INDICTMENT
WHO AM. I.
WE PLAN THE DEFENSE
BULLET PROOF .
THE ANSWER
THE MECHANICIAN
RED CAPITULATES .
I LISTEN TO MY FOREBEARS
e
PAGE
24
34
56
73
103
115
133
143
156
175
185
194
208
220
235
241





32 CALIBER





32 CALIBER
CHAPTER ONE
BRING JIM HERE
WAS in the locker-room of the country-
club, getting dressed after the best after-
noon of golf I had ever had. I had just
beaten Paisley “one-up” in eighteen holes of
the hardest kind of sledding.
If you knew Paisley you’d understand just
why I was so glad to beat him. He is a most
insufferably conceited ass about his golf, for
a man who plays as badly as he does; in
addition to which he usually beats me. It's
not that Paisley plays a better game, but he
has a way of making me pull my drive or
over-approach just by his confounded man-
ner of looking at me when I am getting ready
to play.
We usually trot along about even until we
come to the seventh hole—in fact, I’m usually
ahead at the seventh—and then conversation
9


10 32 CALIBER
does me in. You see, the seventh hole can
be played two ways. There's a small clay
bank that abuts the green and you can either
play around or over it to the hole, which lies
directly behind. The real golfers play over
with a good mashie shot that lands them
dead on the green, but dubs, like Paisley, play
around with two easy mid-iron shots. When
we get to the place where the choice must be
made, Paisley suggests that I go around,
which makes me grip my mashie firmly,
recall all the things I have read in the little
book about how to play a mashie shot, and
let drive with all my force, which usually
lands me somewhere near the top of the clay
bank, where it would take a mountain goat
to play the next shot. After that, Paisley
and I exchange a few hectic observations and
my temperature and score mount to the
highest known altitude.
Of course, every now and then, I forget my
stance and Paisley long enough to send the
ball in a beautiful parabola right on to the
green, and when I do—oh, brother!—the


BRING JIM HERE 11
things I say to Paisley put him in such a
frame of mind that I could play the rest of
the course with a paddle and a basket-ball
and still beat him. This particular afternoon
he had tried to play the seventh hole as it
should be played, and though we had both
foozled, I had won the hole and romped tri-
umphantly home with the side of pig.
I was gaily humming to myself as I put
on my clothes when James Felderson came
in. His face was drawn and his mouth was
set in a way that was utterly foreign to Jim,
whose smile has done more to keep peace in
committee meetings and to placate irate
members than all other harmonizing agencies
in the club put together. There was some-
thing unnatural, too, about his eyes, as
though he had been drinking.
“Have you seen Helen?” he demanded in a
thick voice.
“No. Not to-day,” I answered. “What's
the matter, Jim? Anything wrong?”
Felderson has been my law partner ever
since he married my sister Helen. I had left


12 32 CALIBER
him at the office just before lunch and he had
seemed then as cheerful and unperturbed as
usual.
“Helen has gone with Frank Woods!” he
burst out, his voice breaking as he spoke.
It took a second for me to grasp the
meaning of what he said, then I grabbed him
by the shoulder.
“Jim, Jim, what are you saying?”
My sister—left her husband—run off
with another man! I had read of such
things in stories, but never had I believed
that real people, in real life and of real social
position, ever so disgraced themselves.
Every one knew that Frank Woods had been
seeing a lot of Helen, and several close
friends had asked me if Jim knew the man’s
reputation. I had even spoken to Helen, only
to be laughed at, and assured that it was
the idle gossip of scandal-mongers. That
she should have left Jim, darling old Jim, for
Frank Woods, or any other man, was un-
thinkable. Jim sank on a bench and turned
a face to me that had grown utterly haggard.


BRING JIM HERE 13
“It’s true, Bupps! I found this on the
table when I went home to lunch.”
He held out a crumpled note written in
Helen's rather mannish back-hand.
“Jim,
“It is now ten-thirty. Frank is coming for
me at eleven. He has made me realize that,
loving him the way I do, I would be doing you
a horrible injustice to keep up the wretched
pretense of being your wife.
“Had you left any other way open, I would
have taken it, but you refused a divorce. I
hate to hurt you the way I must, but try to
understand and forgive me.
“Helen.”
I turned toward Jim. His chin was sunk
in his hands. Two men came in from the
tennis-courts and nodded as they went by.
“What have you done?” I asked.
He raised his head, and on his face was
written incalculable misery.
“Nothing!” he answered, dropping his
hands hopelessly. “What can I do, except
let them go and get a divorce as soon as
possible? It's my fault. After we-
quarreled the other night, she asked me to


14 32 CALIBER
divorce her, and I refused. God, Bupps! If
you only knew how much I love her and how
hard I’ve tried to make her love me. And
she did love me till Woods came along.”
I hurried up my dressing, turning over in
my mind the details of Jim’s married life.
In the light of the latest developments, I
realized the painful fact that I was partly to
blame myself. Helen hadn’t really loved Jim
when she married him. Oh, she'd loved him
in the same way she’d loved a lot of other
men whom she'd been more or less engaged
to at one time or another. She had married
Jim, because it had been the thing to do that
year, to get married; and she realized that
Jim loved her more and could give her more
than any of the others. Where I came in
was that I had urged her to marry Jim be-
cause he was the best man in the world and
because I wanted him for my brother-in-law.
I remembered now how cold Helen had
been, even during their engagement, trump-
ing up almost any excuse to keep from
spending an evening alone with the man who


16 32 CALIBER
when Frank Woods came to Eastbrook on
war business for the French Government. He
had been in Papa Joffre's Army during part
of the mêlée, wore the Croix de Guerre with
several palms, and could hold a company of
people enthralled with stories of his experi-
ences. Whether he had a right to the
decorations, or even the uniform, no one was
quite sure, but it set off every good point of
his massive, well-built frame. He would
stand in front of the fire and tell of air-scraps
in such a way that, while he never mentioned
the hero by name, it was easy to guess that
“hero” and Frank Woods were synonymous.
He could dance, ride, play any game and
shoot better than the best of us, and when he
sat at the piano and sang, every man looked
at his wife or his fiancée and Wondered where
the lightning was going to strike. For
although he was a very proper young bache-
lor for months, showing no unseemly interest
in women, we all of us, I think, secretly felt
that he was setting the stage for a “grand
coup.”


BRING JIM HERE 17
If he had singled out Helen from the first,
he couldn’t have played his game better, for
his seeming indifference to her loveliness
piqued her almost to madness. During the
early months of our entrance in the war he
was called back to France, and every man in
Eastbrook breathed a sigh of relief. There
wasn’t one of us who could say why we
thought him a cad, but just the same, I doubt
if there was a father in Eastbrook who would
willingly have given his daughter to him. He
was too much of the ideal lover to make a
good husband. There was something about
him, too, that made no man want to claim
him as a particular friend, but perhaps it was
because we were all jealous.
While most of the younger men of the town
were in France, or, like Jim and myself, in a
training-camp, Frank Woods came back, and
this time there was no mistaking whom he
had picked out for his attentions. Until the
war was over and Jim home, it was not
noticeable, for he was most meticulous in his
behavior, but with Jim busy trying to


18 32 CALIBER
straighten out our tangled practise, Woods
lost no time in taking advantage of his
opportunities. And there had been oppor-
tunities enough, heaven knows, with Jim
surrounded by clients, yet trying in his
clumsy, lovable way to remonstrate with
Helen for seeing so much of Woods. My
interference had only increased his oppor-
tunities, for the evening I told her what
people were saying, she quarreled with Jim,
and as a result he threw himself into his
work with an energy in which enthusiasm
had no part.
All the time these thoughts were running
through my head—and they ran much faster
than I can set them down—I had been throw-
ing my clothes on, knowing something had
to be done, yet what that something was I
couldn’t for the life of me figure out.
“Come on, Jim !” I said, grabbing him by
the arm and pulling him from his dejected
position.
“Where to?” he responded wearily.
“First of all, we're going to shut this thing


BRING JIM HERE 19
up. The Sun would like nothing better than
to spread it thick all over the front page of
their filthy sheet.”
“You’re right, old boy! I’d forgotten about
the newspapers. It would be horrible for
Helen to have her name dragged through the
mud.”
“I wasn’t thinking of Helen,” I responded
testily, “but a lot of cheap notoriety won’t
help our law practise any.”
All the spirit seemed to have seeped out of
his system, so I pushed him into my car,
preferring to take the wheel rather than have
him drive. I can always think better when
I have a steering wheel in my hands, and
knowing with what speed Jim drove ordi-
narily, I didn’t care to trust my precious body
to him in his overwrought condition.
We were just backing into the drive when
one of the servants came running from the
club.
“Oh, Mr. Thompson!” he called.
I stopped the car and waited for him to
come up.


20 32 CALIBER
“What is it?”
“You’re wanted on the telephone.”
I jumped from the car and started for the
club. There were the usual groups of tea-
drinkers and bridge-players scattered about
on the broad veranda, and it seemed to me,
as I ran up the steps, that they all stopped
talking and looked at me, I thought, with
curiosity, if not with pity. There would be
no use shutting up the newspapers if that
bunch of gossips were in possession of the
Scandal.
I hurried to the telephone and slammed the
door to the booth, expecting to hear the voice
of some reporter demand if there was any
truth to the rumor that Mrs. James Felder-
son had run off with Frank Woods. To my
buzzing brain it seemed that the whole world
must have heard the news.
“Hello,” I called.
“Is that you, Warren?” It was Helen's
voice.
“Helen!” I yelled. “For God's sake, where
are you?”


BRING JIM HERE 21
“I am at the house. Listen, Warren! Have
you seen Jim?”
Her voice sounded faint and strangely
uncontrolled.
“Yes—yes,” I shouted. “He’s here with
me now.”
“Then bring him here quickly, Warren!
Please hurry.”
“But, Helen yy
“Don’t ask me any questions, please.”
There was a catch in the voice on the other
end of the wire. “I c-can’t answer any ques-
tions now, but bring Jim, and hurry!”
The receiver clicked and I dashed out of
the booth, a thousand questions pounding in
my brain. Why was Helen at the house?
Had Frank Woods failed to keep his appoint-
ment, thinking better of eloping with
another man’s wife; Or, had Helen come to
her senses, seen through the thin veneer that
covered the cad and the libertine in Frank
Woods and returned to her husband for
good? Over and above these questions and
conjectures and hopes, there was thanksgiv-


BRING JIM HERE 23
death loom up ahead of us, as vehicles ap-
proached from side-streets, but with a swerve
and a sickening skid, we missed them some-
how. Once a street-car and a wagon seemed
completely to block the road ahead, but Jim
steered for the slender opening and when I
opened my eyes we had skinned through,
leaving a corpulent and cursing driver far
behind. After that I forgot my wretched
fear and the blood surged through my veins
at the delicious feel of the air as it whipped
my cheeks. We turned at last into the long
approach to Jim's house and it was then that
my heart sank.
Frank Woods’ car was standing before the
door.


TWO MEN AND A WOMAN 25
chair. A large patent-leather traveling-case
lay beside it. I had expected, from the
urgency of the message and the sound of her
voice over the telephone, to find Helen agi-
tated, but, except for slight traces of recent
tears and a high color, she looked as cool and
collected as though she had invited us to tea.
Jim, on the other hand, was trembling, his
face a pasty white, with great beads of per-
spiration standing on his forehead.
She motioned us to enter, and I led the
way, gripping Jim's hand in passing. Woods
was standing by the window, his back to us,
and his whole pose so artificial, so expressive
of disdain, that I felt the short hair rising
along the back of my neck in antagonism.
When he heard us, Woods turned with con-
temptuous deliberation, but when he caught
sight of the dumb misery on Jim's face, his
own turned a dull crimson. Helen crossed
the room and seated herself on the divan,
back of which Woods was standing. The
whole performance—the place she chose near
him. the look she flashed at him as she sat
*


26 32 CALIBER
down, showed so completely which of the men
she loved, that my heart sank and I lost hope
of ever bringing her back to Jim. It was
Helen who first spoke.
“You received the note I left this
morning?”
Jim moistened his lips once and said,
“Yes.” The word was barely audible.
“Then there is no need to tell you I have
made up my mind to go with Frank.”
Her tone was coldly final. Woods had
turned and was again gazing out of the win-
dow. Jim looked at Helen with the eyes of
a hound-dog. My heart ached for him, but
there was nothing I could do.
“Why did you come back?” Jim almost
whispered, keeping his eyes directly on her
face.
“Because I didn’t Want a Scandal.” She
glanced down at her lap where she was open-
ing and closing a beaded vanity bag.
Evidently she was finding the interview
harder than she had expected.
“I felt—I hoped that if I could show you


TWO MEN AND A WOMAN 27
definitely and finally that I don’t love you,
that I am devoted to Frank, your pride, if
nothing else, would induce you to give me the
divorce for which I asked. That is the reason
we decided to come back—so you might make
it possible for us to marry without a
scandal.”
The gross selfishness of the woman—I
could hardly think of her as my sister—her
cold cruelty, yes, even her damnable beauty,
seemed to go to my head and something
snapped inside. I couldn’t bear the sight of
Jim standing there helpless, while these two
turned the knife.
“That was very considerate of you,” I
sneered.
“You keep out of this, Warren?”
“I’m damned if I do,” I retorted. “I at
least have a brother’s right to tell you that a
man who will sneak into another's home to
make love to his wife, behind his back, and
then—”
Woods turned quickly. “That's a lie, and
you know it.” -


28 32 CALIBER
Jim put his hand on my shoulder. He knew
I was ready to fight.
“Don’t, Bupps!”
Suddenly he seemed to straighten into life.
From the way he set his jaw, I knew that the
old courage, which had won so many cases in
the court-room, was back on the job.
“You were quite right, Helen. While I
imagine your reason for not wanting a scan-
dal was largely selfish, yet I think that
consideration for my position was partly
responsible for your return, and for that I
thank you. When you asked for a divorce
the other night, I didn’t realize that your love
for me was so entirely dead, or that you had
fallen so completely under this man's influ-
ence. Under the circumstances, I shall give
you a divorce, if only to keep you from taking
matters into your own hands. But I shall
not do it until I have satisfied myself that
your new love is real, that the man is worthy
of it. If there is anything in Woods’
life that does not bear looking into, I'll find it
out; if he has done anything in the past that


30 32 CALIBER
moment. Each man measured the other
across the narrow space, and I longed that
the laws of civilization might be swept aside
so that the two might tear at each other's
throats, for the woman they loved. Both
men were powerful, and neither feared the
other.
“As to looking up my past,” Woods con-
tinued, “one might think you were the father
of the lady and I a youthful suitor. While
I recognize no right of yours to meddle in my
affairs, the fact that I was sent to America
as the duly accredited agent of the French
Government should have some weight. They
are not accustomed over there to hiring thugs
and cutthroats to carry on their business.”
“This is all beside the point,” Helen broke
in. “May I ask, Jim, where I am going to
stay and what I am going to do while you
are investigating Frank's past?”
“You are going to stay here.”
“Here? But where will you stay?”
“I am going to stay here with you.”
Woods came around the divan. “Look


TWO MEN AND A WOMAN 31
here, Felderson! Can’t you see Helen doesn’t
love you, that you’ve lost—?”
“Keep back!” warned Jim huskily.
“She can’t stay here with you. She's no
more your wife than if she had never mar-
ried you. Do you think I'll allow her to stay
in this house, forced to endure your atten-
tions—?”
“Who are you to say what you will or
won’t allow?” Jim roared, his eyes blazing.
“You came into my house as my guest and
stole my most precious possession. Get out
before I kill you!”
Woods’ face was white. For one minute
I felt sure the two men would settle matters
then and there. Suddenly he turned and said:
“Come, Helen!”
“She stays here!” Jim cried.
Helen had arisen from the divan when the
two men came together. Now she stepped
forward.
“I’m going with Frank. We came back
here more for your sake than our own. We
tried to give you a chance to do the decent


32 32 CALIBER
thing, but I might have known you wouldn’t.
With all your protestations of love for me,
when I ask you to do the one thing that would
show that love, the one thing that would
make me happy, you not only refuse, but you
insult the man who means everything in the
world to me. If I had ever loved you in my
life, what you have just said would have
made me hate you. As I never loved you, I
despise and loathe you now.”
She started to pass him, but he grabbed
her by the shoulders. His face was white
and drawn and his eyes were the eyes of a
madman. He lifted her up bodily and almost
threw her on the divan, crying, “By God!
You stay here!”
Jim turned just as Woods rushed and with
a mighty swing to the side of the head, sent
him crashing into the corner. Dazed as he
was, he half struggled to his feet, and when
I saw him reach beneath his coat, I sprang
on him and wrenched the revolver from his
hand. . .'', '-o',
*
Disheveled and half-stupefied, he rose and


TWO MEN AND A WOMAN 33
glared at us like an angry bull. Slowly he
straightened his tie and brushed back his
hair. He glanced over at Helen, who was sob-
bing on the sofa.
“Two of you—eh? A frame-up.” All the
hatred in the world gleamed in his eyes, as
he looked at Jim. “If you don’t let Helen
come to me, Felderson, I’ll kill you; so help
me God, I’ll kill you!” Then he picked up his
coat and hat and walked out of the room.
Jim went slowly to the door and into the
hall. He looked tired and old. I heard the
outer door slam behind Frank Woods and a
motor start, Then I went out to Jim.


CHAPTER THREE
I COULD KILL HIM
WAS on my way back to Jim's after hav-
ing gone home to change my clothes. Jim
had asked me to stay with him that evening
and, to tell the truth, I was glad to do it,
partly because of the threat Woods had made
and partly because of the way Helen looked
at Jim when she passed us in the hall on the
way to her bedroom. Being a lawyer, I have
naturally made a pretty close study of char-
acter, and if I ever saw vindictiveness on the
face of any human, it was on Helen's at that
moment.
I said nothing about the affair to mother
while I was home, for she has been very
frail ever since my father's death and I
thought there was no use in needlessly upset-
ting her. There would be plenty of time to
discuss the matter after Helen left Jim.
Again and again I recalled the struggle
of the afternoon and again and again, Helen's
34


I COULD KILL HIM 35
face, distorted with anger, reappeared. Fi-
nally I decided to drive the car over to Mary
Pendleton’s and ask her to come spend the
night with Helen. In her overwrought, hys-
terical condition, Helen was capable of doing
almost anything.
Mary has been like a second sister to me.
She really cares nothing for me, except in a
sisterly way, but we have been together, so
much so and so long that Eastbrook gossips
have given up speculating whether we are
engaged. I'd marry her in a minute, or even
less, if she would have me, but Mary insists
on treating me like a kid; calls my crude at-
tempts at love-making “silly tosh and flub-
dub,” which makes the going rather difficult.
She was bridesmaid to Helen and is the one
person, besides myself, who can influence her
in the least, so I felt that her presence would
add ballast to our wildly tossing domestic
craft. Needless to say, my own lack of self-
control during the afternoon had been as un-
expected as it was disappointing, but when
it comes to anything that concerns Jim, I’m
not responsible.


36 32 CALIBER
I rang the bell and Mary, herself, came to
the door, looking radiant as usual.
“Hello, Buppkins!” She greeted me with
that detestable nick-name she has used since
I wore rompers. “Aren’t you trying for a
record or something? This is twice you’ve
called on me this month.”
“Mary, I'm in trouble.”
“Is the poor 'ittle boy in trouble and come
to Auntie Mary to tell her all about it?” she
sing-songed, making a little moue, as though
she was talking to her pet cat.
“Cut it, Mary!” I said. “I’m really in
trouble.”
“What is it, Bupps?”
“Helen ran off with Frank Woods to-day.”
“Heavens, Bupps!”—she was serious
enough now.—“Where did they go?”
“They went, but they came back. Helen's
home with Jim. They tried to force him to
give Helen a divorce. There was an awful
fight and Woods swore that he would kill
Jim unless he let Helen go. But put on your
hat and coat and get your things. Helen


I COULD KILL HIM 37
needs you with her. I'll tell you the rest on
the way over.”
“I’ll be with you in a second,” she called,
running up-stairs.
When Mary was snuggled down beside me
in the car—and she does snuggle the best of
any girl I ever knew—I told her everything,
not forgetting the part where I wrenched the
gun away from Woods.
“Goodness, Bupps! I bet you were Scared,”
she commented, her eyes twinkling.
“Frankly, I didn't know what I was doing,
or I would never have had the nerve,” I
laughed. “But, lord! I feel sorry for Jim.”
Mary's face clouded over.
“So do I, Bupps, but any one could have
seen it coming. Jim was too good to her. As
much as I like Helen, I will say that the
only kind of husband she deserves is a brute
who would beat her. That's the only kind
she can love. I was with her the night be-
fore her wedding, and she confessed then that
if Jim were only cruel or indifferent to her,
just once, she thought she could love him to


38 32 CALIBER
death. The only reason Helen cares for you
and me, was because we never paid any par-
ticular attention to her when she acted up
and pouted. That is why she is mad about
Frank Woods. When he came to Eastbrook,
he treated her as though she didn’t exist.”
“And if Jim were cruel to her now, do you
think she would go back to him?” I asked.
Mary shook her head. “No, it's different
now. If Jim were cruel to her, she would
probably hate him all the more for it.”
“Proving the incomprehensibility of wom-
an,” I jeered.
“Proving the flumdability of flapdoodle,”
Mary responded. “If you men only put one
little thought into giving a woman what she
wants, instead of giving her what you think
she ought to want; if you kept as up-to-date
in your love-making as you do in your law
practise, women wouldn’t be the incompre-
hensible riddle you always make them out to
|be.”
“Well, why don't you tell us what you
Want?” I asked,


I COULD KILL HIM 39
“Silly! That would spoil it all, don’t you
see? Besides we aren’t sure just what we
want ourselves.”
My spirits, which had risen considerably
during our conversation, dropped with a
slump when Jim's big house loomed up ahead.
Already, something of the unhappiness with-
in seemed to have added a more somber touch
to the outside. Have you noticed how you
can tell from the face of a house what kind
of life the inhabitants lead? Happiness or
misery, health or sickness, riches or poverty
all show as though the walls were saturated
from the admixture of life within.
I sent Mary up-stairs to see Helen, while I
went into the drawing-room in search of
Jim, but there was no one there except
Wicks, the butler, who was lighting a
fire, for, though it was only the last of
September, the nights were chilly. I
snatched up the evening paper to see if
by any chance a hint of the scandal had
crept into print. I felt sure that, as matters
stood, they would not dare to put in anything


40 32 CALIBER
definite, but The Sun has a nasty way of
writing all around a scandal, so that, while
the persons involved are readily recognized,
they are quite helpless as far as redress is
concerned.
I noticed that Wicks had taken an infer-
nally long time to start the fire. Although
it was burning merrily, he still puttered
about, brushing up the chips and rearranging
the blower and tongs. When Wicks hangs
about he usually has a question on his mind
that he wants answered, and he takes that
means of letting you know it. I decided not
to notice him but to force him to come out in
the open and ask, for once, a straightforward
question. From the fire, he moved to the
table and straightened the magazines and
books, glancing now and then in my direc-
tion, trying to catch my eye, but I buried
myself more deeply than ever in the paper.
When he finally stepped back of my chair,
human nature could stand his puttering no
longer, so I laid down The Sun, and turned
to him,


I COULD KILL HIM 41
“Well, Wicks, what do you want?” I
Snapped.
Wicks looked at me with the expression of
a small boy caught sticky-handed in the jam-
closet.
“Nothing, sir!—that is—er—nothing.” He
turned and started from the room.
“Come here, Wicks!” I called. “I know
when you hang around a room unnecessarily,
as you have been doing for the last ten min-
utes, that you have something on your mind.
Now, out with it.”
“I was merely going to arsk, sir, hif I 'ad
better begin lookin’ arfter another place,
Sir?”
That was an extraordinary question. Wicks
had been with the Feldersons ever since they
were married.
“What put that idea into your head,
Wicks?”
He was far more confused than I had ever
seen him.
“Meanin’ no disrespect, sir, and I don’t
mean to be hinquisitive about what doesn’t


42 32 CALIBER
concern me, but I couldn’t 'elp ’earin a bit
of what took place this arfternoon, sir.”
Good lord! I’d forgotten there might have
been other witnesses to the scene of the aft-
ernoon besides myself.
“Do the other servants know about this,
Wicks?”
“Hi think they do, sir, seein’ as 'ow Mrs.
Felderson 'as been actin’ and talkin' So
queer.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded.
Wicks struggled for composure. The sub-
ject was evidently most distasteful to his
conservative and conventional British na-
ture.
“Hit was Annie, Mrs. Felderson's maid,
sir, that hupset the servants. W'en she came
down from hup-stairs, she said as 'ow Mrs.
Felderson was a ragin' and a rampagin'
around 'er room, sayin’ that if Mr. Felderson
didn’t give 'er a divorce, she would do vio-
lence to 'im, sir.”
“Did Annie hear her say that?” I ques-
tioned.


I COULD KILL HIM 43
“She says so, sir.”
The whole thing was so monstrous that I
gasped. For this awful dime-novel muck to
be tumbled into the middle of my family was
too sickening. My sister, running away from
her husband with another man and now
threatening, in the hearing of the servants,
to kill him, unless he gave her a divorce, dis-
gusted me with its cheap vulgarity. I hid,
as best I could, the tempest that was brewing
inside me.
“Wicks, Mrs. Felderson is not well. Tell
the servants that she is greatly depressed
over an accident that happened to a friend.
At the present time, she is so upset over that,
she really doesn’t know what she is saying.
Quiet them in some way, Wicks! And tell
Annie to stay with Mrs. Felderson!”
“Very good, sir.” He started to leave.
“And, Wicks—”
“Yes, sir.”
“There is no need of your looking for an-
other place.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!”
{


44 32 CALIBER
Wicks departed and I was left to my
gloomy thoughts. Helen must be brought
to her senses. Mary and I must work, either
to bring her back to Jim, or, if that prove
hopeless, to see that the divorce was hurried
as much as possible. The very thought of
having Mary along with me, with her inex-
haustible fund of God-given humor and com-
mon sense, gave me a vast amount of comfort
and confidence.
At this point, Jim came in. He had had a
bath and a shave and had put on a dinner-
coat, looking a lot more fit to grapple with
his troubles than he had the last time I had
seen him. Only in his eyes did he show the
shock he'd received that day.
“Communing with yourself in the dark,
Bupps?”—his voice was natural and easy.
“Yes,” I sighed, “I’ve been trying to see a
way out of this mess.”
Jim lit a cigarette and threw himself into
a chair. For a few moments he puffed in
silence, taking deep inhalations and blowing
the smoke against the lighted tip, so that


I COULD KILL HIM 45
it showed all the rugged strength of his
superb head.
“What would you say, Bupps, if I told you
everything would come out all right?”
“And Helen stay with you?” I asked in-
credulously.
“And Helen stay with me,” he repeated
calmly.
“Of her OWn free Will ?”
“Of her own free will,” he answered.
“I should say that the events of the day
had addled your brain and that you are a
damned inconsiderate brother-in-law to try
to make a fool of me.”
“I mean it, Bupps,” he said quietly.
“What do you mean?” I demanded.
“That everything will come out all right,”
he smiled.
“But how, man?” His complacency almost
drove me wild.
“Bupps, have you noticed how much money
Woods has been spending around here—his
extravagant way of living? Where do you
think that money comes from?”


46 32 CALIBER
“His contracts with the French Govern-
ment,” I replied.
“But I happen to know he didn’t land those
contracts. That’s the reason he beat it so
suddenly when we got into the war.” He
tossed his cigarette into the fire.
“His salary from the French, then. They
must have paid him some kind of salary.”
“Have you never heard what ridiculously
Small salaries the French Government pays
its Officers?”
It was true that Woods could never have
lived as he did on ten times the salary of a
French captain.
“His own private fortune then,” I sug-
gested.
“Ah! There's the point! If he has a pri-
vate fortune, then my whole case falls to
pieces. That's what I’ve got to find out.
Woods has been playing for a big stake, and
I think he has been playing with other peo-
ple's money. Did you notice how he flushed
this afternoon when I suggested looking into
his private affairs? It was the veriest acci-


I COULD KILL HIM 47
dent—I was stalling for time—but when I
saw him color up I knew I’d touched a sore
spot. No, Bupps, I don’t think Woods has a
private fortune.”
“But even if you show him up as worth-
less, will Helen come back to you, Jim?”
The color came to his face and he laughed
with a queer twist to his mouth.
“Am I as horrible as all that, Bupps?”
His words brought a lump to my throat.
I went over to him and almost hugged him.
“Jim, you’re such a peach—dammit all—”
I heard a light step behind me.
“Oh, Bupps!” laughed Mary, “if you’d only
make love to me in that ardent fashion, I’d
drag you to the altar by your few remaining
hairs.”
I stood up, blushing in spite of myself.
She can always make me feel that whatever
I am doing is either stupid or foolish.
“Dinner is served, and I’m starving. Come
on, people!” she announced, leading the way
to the dining-room.
“Where’s Helen?” I asked.


48 32 CALIBER
“She's not coming down. She has a slight
headache,” Mary answered, giving me a
warning look. “I am delegated to be lady
of the manor this evening.” She looked so
adorable as she curtsied to us that I felt an
almost uncontrollable impulse to grab her in
my arms and smother her with kisses, but
remembering what she had done to me once
when I yielded to impulse, I refrained.
When we sat down to the table, Helen's
empty place threatened to cast a gloom over
the party, so Mary told Wicks to remove it.
“It’s too much like Banquo's ghost,” she
whispered, laughing merrily at Jim.
“Speaking of ghosts,” said Jim turning to
me, “I hear the labor people are asking the
governor to pardon Zalnitch.”
“A lot of good it will do them,” I re-
sponded. “If ever a man deserved hanging,
he does.”
“I know, but labor is awfully strong now,
and with the unsettled social conditions in
the state, a bigger man than Governor Fallon
might find it expedient to let Zalnitch off.”


I COULD KILL HIM 49
“Who is Zalnitch? Don’t think I’ve met the
gentleman,” Mary said.
“He’s the Russian who was supposed to be
the ring-leader of the gang that blew up the
Yellow Funnel steamship piers in 1915,” I
explained.
“Do you mean to say he hasn’t been hanged
yet?”
“Yes!” Jim answered. “And what's more,
I'm afraid he's going to be pardoned.”
“Not really, Jim?” I queried.
“Yes! I’m almost sure of it. Fallon is a
machine man before everything else, although
he was elected on a pro-American ticket.
They are threatening to do all kinds of things
to him, just as they threatened me, unless
Zalnitch goes free, and I think Fallon is
afraid of them, not physically perhaps, but
politically. He wants reelection.”
Jim had helped the prosecuting attorney
convict Zalnitch; in fact it was Jim’s work
more than anything else that had sent the
Russian to prison. At the time, Jim had re-
ceived a lot of threatening letters, just as


50 32 CALIBER
every other American who denounced the
Germans before we entered the war had re-
ceived them. Nothing had come of it, of
course, and after we went in, the whole mat-
ter dropped from public attention. Zalnitch
had been sent to prison, but his friends had
worked constantly for commutation of his
sentence. With labor's new power, due to the
fear of Bolshevism, they were again bringing
influence to bear on the governor.
Wicks had removed the soup plates and
was bringing in the roast, when Annie ap-
peared. The girl was both frightened and
angry.
“Mr. FelderSOn?”
Jim looked up. “What is it, Annie?”
“Will you come up-stairs, please, sir?”
Mary pushed back her chair, “I’ll go, Jim.”
“It's Mr. Felderson that's wanted,” Annie
said with just a touch of asperity.
“Yes, you two better stay here and amuse
each other,” said Jim. “Bupps, you carve!”
“If Bupps carves, I'm sure to be amused,”
laughed Mary.


I COULD KILL HIM 51
Jim left, and I went around to his place.
If there is one thing I do more badly than
another, it is carving. At home it's done in
the kitchen, but Jim takes great pride in the
neatness and celerity with which he sepa-
rates the component parts of a fowl and so
insists on having the undissected whole
brought to the table.
“What is it to-night?” Mary asked as I
eyed my task with disfavor.
“Roast duck.” I tried to speak casually.
“Wait, Bupps, while Wicks lays the oil-
cloth and I get an umbrella.”
“Smarty!” I responded, grabbing my tools
firmly, “you wait and see! I watched Jim the
last time he carved one of these and I know
just how it’s done.”
I speared for the duck’s back, but the fork
skidded down the slippery side of the bird
and spattered a drop of gravy in front of me.
“I’m waiting and seeing,” Mary chided.
“Well, you wanted some gravy, didn’t
you?”
“Yes, but on my plate, please.”


52 32 CALIBER
This time I placed the tines of the fork
carefully on the exact middle of the duck's
breast and gently pushed, giving some aid
and comfort with my knife. The little beast
eased over on the platter an inch or two.
“The thing's still alive,” I exclaimed, get-
ting mad.
“If you'll let me have full control, I'll carve
it for you,” Mary spoke up.
“Come on, then,” I responded, gladly relin-
quishing my place. With a deftness and ease
that could only be explained by the fact that
the duck was ready and willing to be carved,
she removed the legs and then demolished
the bird altogether.
There was the sound of voices raised in
altercation up-stairs, the slamming of a door
and the patter of feet rapidly descending the
steps. The next moment Helen burst into
the room. She was fully dressed for going
out and was pinning on her hat with spiteful
little jabs.
“Will you take me home, Warren?”
Mary left me and went over to her.


I COULD KILL HIM 53
“What has happened, Helen?”
“Oh, I can’t stay here another minute. It
is bad enough to have to stay in the same
house with a man you loathe, but when a
husband bribes his wife's servants to spy on
her and watch over her as though she were
a dangerous lunatic—”
Her eyes were blazing. Mary put her arm
around her and tried to quiet her.
“Helen, dear, you don’t know how ridicu-
lous that is. No one is spying on you.”
Helen tore herself away. '
“That's right, stand up for him! You're
all against me, I know. The only reason War-
ren brought you here, was to try to talk me
into staying with him. Well, I won’t, you un-
derstand? I Won't! I hate him | I could kill
him! If you won’t take me home, Warren,
I’ll go alone.” She was almost hysterical.
“Have you thought what this would do to
mother?” I asked. “She doesn’t know you’ve
quarreled with Jim. If she found out you
were contemplating a divorce, it would kill
her. You know how weak she is.”


54 32 CALIBER
I heard Jim's heavy tread coming down-
stairs.
“Can I stay with you, Mary?” Big tears
stood in Helen's eyes and she seemed on the
verge of a complete breakdown.
“Of course, Honey-bunch!” Mary respond-
ed, kissing her and leading her into the draw-
ing-room. “Just go in there and lie down
while I get my things.”
As Helen walked from the room, Jim came
in. Mary turned toward us, looked us over
for the briefest moment and whispered, “You
men are brutes!” As she ran up-stairs, Jim
gazed after her. That same gray look had
come back into his face.
“I guess we are,” he said, shaking his
head, “but I don’t know how or why.”
I patted him on the shoulder and went for
my coat. Whether he realized it or not, I
knew Helen would never come back to him.
I went out to the car and turned on the
lights. A white moon was sailing through a
sky cluttered with puffy clouds, its soft radi-
ance bathing the house and grounds in mel-


I COULD KILL HIM 55
low loveliness. It all seemed so remote from
the sordid quarrel inside that its beauty was
enhanced by the contrast. Here was a night
when the whole world should be in love. Na-
ture herself conspired to that end. And yet,
there were thousands of men and women
who were so forgetful of everything except
their own petty differences that they turned
their backs to the beauty around them, in
order to try to hurt each other.
As Helen and Mary came out of the door,
I climbed into the car and said to myself,
“Damn men, damn women, damn every-
thing!”


CHAPTER FOUR
THE WORST HAPPENS
WAS late getting down to the office the
next morning, for I had gone back to
Jim’s and talked till all hours. It seemed
that my instructions to Wicks, to tell Annie
to stay with Helen, had been taken quite
literally by that estimable pair, for when
Helen had told the girl to leave she had re-
fused, saying that Mr. Felderson had ordered
her to stay. That was what had precipitated
the quarrel.
Even when I left Jim, to go to bed, I had
heard him walking back and forth in his
room, and once during the night, I heard him
shut his door. Thinking perhaps he might
want me with him, I went to his door and
knocked. Jim was untying his shoes and ex-
plained that, unable to sleep, he had gone out
for a walk. The clock on the mantel-piece
showed half past four. -
In spite of the fact he had practically no
56


THE WORST HAPPENS 57
sleep the night before, he was down at his
usual hour, nine o'clock, and when I went into
his office to see him, there was no sign of
fatigue on his face.
“Any news?” I inquired.
“This may interest you,” and he tossed
over the morning paper folded to an article
on the first page.
ZALNITCH FREED
GOVERNOR FALLON PARDONS MAN IM-
PLICATED IN YELLOW PIER
EXPLOSION
Prisoner Upon Release Makes Terrific Indict-
ment Against Those Responsible for
His Imprisonment
I glanced hurriedly down the long article.
One paragraph in particular caught my eye.
It was part of a quotation from Zalnitch's
“speech” to the reporters.
“Those who were responsible for my im-
prisonment may well regret the fact that jus-


58 32 CALIBER
tice has at last been given me. I shall not
rest until I lay before the working classes the
extent to which the processes of law can be
distorted in this state, and rouse them to
overthrow and drive out those who have the
power of depriving them of their rights and
their liberty. I shall not rest until I see a
full meed of punishment brought to those
who have punished me and hundreds like me.
Their money and their high position will not
help them to escape a just retribution.”
“It looks as though our friend was going to
have a very restless time,” I commented,
after reading the passage aloud to Jim.
“‘Vengeance is mine,” saith Zalnitch.”
Jim’s eyes twinkled.
“You’re not afraid of him, are you, Jim?”
I asked.
“No more now than ever, Bupps.”
His face suddenly clouded over. “Wouldn’t
it clear the air, though, if they did carry out
their funny little threats and put me out of
the way? When I think of some of the things
Helen has said to me during the last month,
I almost wish they would.”
“That sounds weak and silly,” I scoffed;


THE WORST HAPPENS 59
“not a bit like you, Jim. Cheer up! Give
Helen a divorce and let her go! She's not
worth all this heartache.”
Jim sat for a moment thinking. “You
don't know what this has done to me, Bupps.
It's not as though divorcing Helen would
straighten the whole matter out. Ever since
I’ve known Helen I’ve—idolized her—fool-
ishly, perhaps. She has been the one big
thing worth working for; the thing I’ve built
my whole life around. I’ve got to fight for
her, Bupps. I can't let her smash my ideals
all to pieces. I’ve got to make her live up to
what I’ve always believed her to be.”
The tone of the man, the dead seriousness
of his words, made me want to disown Helen
and then kill Woods. I left the room with
my eyes a bit misty and did my best, in the
case I was working on, to forget.
For two days I was kept so busy I hardly
saw Jim except when I had to go into his
office for papers, or to consult an authority.
I was trying to win a case against the L. L.
& G. railroad, and though I knew my client


60 32 CALIBER
could never pay me a decent fee, even if I
should win, I was pitted against some of the
best lawyers in the state, and was anxious
for the prestige that a verdict in my favor
would give me. The case was going my way,
or seemed to be, but the opposition was fight-
ing harder every day, so that I had time for
little else than food, sleep and work. Frank
Woods had apparently left town, either on
business or to give Helen a clear field to
influence Jim. Helen was still at Mary’s, and
her presence on a visit there was so natural
that it hid her separation from Jim better
than if she had gone home to mother.
I was just leaving for court one morning
when Jim called me into his office. There
was a gleam of triumph in his eyes and his
whole attitude was one of cheerful excite-
ment.
“Have you a minute, Bupps?”
“Only a minute, Jim. This is the day of
days for me.”
There were several letters and telegrams
lying on the table. Jim pointed exultantly


62 32 CALIBER
finformation, I had need of it and that I
wouldn’t abuse their confidence.”
“And now that you’ve got it, what are you
going to do with it?”
“I have sent messages to Woods, to his
apartment, to the club and to the Interna-
tional plant, saying that I want to see him.
I know he is working like the devil to get the
contracts to furnish the government with
mail planes for next year. If he gets that
contract, he may possibly pull through, for
the bank would probably extend his credit,
but if knowledge of his illegal use of the
money entrusted to him by the French
Government ever gets out, he knows it's the
stripes without the stars for him.”
“Be careful when you meet him, Jim,” I
warned. “He’ll go to the limit, you know,
to save himself.” -
“He’s all front, Bupps; just like Zalnitch.
I'll give him three days to straighten out his
affairs and get away. If he hasn’t left by
then, I'll put all the evidence I have into the
hands of the Capitol Loan and Trust.”


THE WORST HAPPENS 63
“Are you going to tell Helen about this?”
I asked.
Jim pondered a moment. “I haven’t de-
cided that yet. If I was sure Woods would
go away without any trouble, I think I’d leave
her in ignorance; but he might use her to
save himself.”
“How do you mean?”
“I’m not so blind I can’t see that Helen’s
infatuated with the man. If he is blackguard
enough to ask her again to go with him, I
think she would go, and that would pretty
effectively tie my hands.”
“You mean that for Helen’s sake you
wouldn’t prosecute Woods?” I demanded.
“That's stupid sentimentality.”
“It’s for Helen's sake that I’m doing all
this,” Jim insisted. “Don’t think for a
moment I would stop the prosecution just
because she was with him. The reason my
hands would be tied is because Helen's money
would pay his obligations.”
“Helen's money?” I laughed. “Helen
hasn’t as much as I have.”


64 32 CALIBER
Jim flushed. “Helen is quite a wealthy
woman, Bupps. When I went into the army
I wanted to leave Helen perfectly easy in a
financial way while I was gone, so I trans-
ferred all my railroad stock to her, so that
she might draw the interest. I haven’t asked
her for it since I came home, because, in the
light of our recent differences, I was afraid
she might think I didn’t trust her.”
“And do you suppose Woods knows that?”
“Of course he knows it!” Jim burst out.
“She must have told him. Why do you
suppose he played around so long before
deciding to make love to Helen? Oh, it's all
so simple and clear to me now that I wonder
at my stupidity.”
I glanced at my watch.
“Good lord, Jim! You’ve almost made me
lose my case. I have only three minutes to
get to the court-house. Hold up the climax
until I get back, if you can.”
I jumped for the elevator and rushed to
my appointment, getting there just in time.
The news of the morning had so raised my


THE WORST HAPPENS 65
spirits that I was filled with an immense
enthusiasm. Everything went my way. My
summing up was a masterpiece of logic, if I
do say so myself, and my client received a
substantial judgment.
There is no moment sweeter in a young
lawyer's life than when another lawyer, of
big reputation, congratulates him on his con-
duct of a case. My cup was filled to
overflowing, and I must confess I had little
thought for Jim’s affairs when I lunched that
day with Stevenson and McGuire, councils
for the L. L. & G. The prognostications that
they made for my future were so exaggerated
that a bigger man than I might well have
been excused for increased head and chest
measurements.
At half past two I went back to the office
to announce the good news to Jim. I had
made up my mind before luncheon to spend
the afternoon on the links in honor of my
victory, but the clouds, which had been heavy
during the morning, by two o'clock opened up
a steady drizzle. Jim was at his desk when


66 32 CALIBER
I came in bringing the glad tidings. He got
up and gripped my hand.
“Good boy, Bupps! I knew you’d do it.
Thank the Lord your affairs are going well
anyway.”
“Has something happened since I’ve been
Out?” I asked.
“Yes. The First National telephoned about
eleven o’clock saying that Helen wanted to
borrow quite a large sum of money on her
railroad stock and asking if I knew about it.
They thought the money was probably for
me and they wanted to ask if I’d be willing to
wait a few days.”
“How much was it?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
“Is the stock worth that much, Jim 7”
“Yes,” said Jim seriously, “the stock is
Worth twice that. That’s why I have to go
slow. She could sell that stock for fifty
thousand at any broker's in five minutes.”
I whistled. “Gee! Fifty thousand. Woods
must have asked her for it because he knew
you were after him.”


THE WORST HAPPENS 67
“It’s open warfare now. I told the bank I
knew what the money was for and that it
would cause no inconvenience to me to have
them hold up the loan for a few days. In
fact I asked Sherwood, the cashier, to wait
until he saw me before making the loan.”
Just then the telephone rang. Jim an-
swered it.
“Hello—Yes—Woods?—Where are you
now?” He listened a moment. “I under-
stand—Eight-thirty promptly?—I’ll be there
—Yes, I understand—I’ll be there.”
He hung up the receiver and looked at me
With twinkling eyes.
“The shoe is beginning to pinch, Bupps.
That was Woods. He asks me to meet him
alone this evening at the country-club, at
eight-thirty promptly. Says he wants to see
me urgently on business that concerns us
bOth.”
“Did he ask you to come alone?”
“Yes. He distinctly said that I was to
come alone and be prompt.”
“Jim,” I argued, “you can’t go out there


68 32 CALIBER
alone to meet that man. It's too infernally
dangerous.”
“There's no danger, Bupps; but I’m not
going alone. Helen is going with me.”
He opened the bottom drawer of his desk
, and pulled out a leather portfolio, into which
he put all the letters and telegrams that were
scattered about his desk.
“I’m going to prove to Helen, in his pres-
ence, what kind of man he is; that he loves
her only for the money I gave her, and to
save his yellow hide. I’m going to tear out
of her heart all the affection she ever had
for him. I think, after that, she will not only
come back to me, but she will love me all the
more for having known Frank Woods. No
matter how badly a leg or an arm may be
shattered, a quick, clean operation may cause
the parts to grow together again, stronger
than they were before. I think I win, Bupps.”
“Still, I believe you ought to carry a gun,
in case he gets nasty.” *
“I will, if you like,” he responded; “but I
won’t use it, no matter what happens.”


THE WORST HAPPENS 69
I left the office, vaguely disquieted with the
thought of Jim going out to the club to face
a man as dangerous and desperate as Frank
Woods. When a fellow of his standing sees
the penitentiary looming up in his fore-
ground he's capable of anything. Helen,
herself, in the crazed condition I had seen her
the other night, was an added element of
danger. I didn’t like the looks of the situa-
tion any way I turned.
I climbed into my car and drove slowly
through the wet slippery streets. The wind-
shield was so covered with rain-drops that I
lowered it to see the better, and the autumn
rain, beating into my face, soon swept away
my gloomy forebodings. After all, no man
was going to stick his neck into the hang-
man’s noose, no matter how eager he was for
revenge. This was the twentieth century,
in which no man could deliberately flout the
law. Frank Woods would never have invited
Jim to a “rendezvous” so public as the
country-club, if he planned mischief. When
he found out how much Jim knew, realizing


70 32 CALIBER
the game was up, he would leave town
quietly. Helen certainly would shake Woods
when she learned of his dishonesty and
trickery. Surely, no woman with Helen's
pride could learn how she had been duped
Without hating the man who duped her.
I stopped at the University Union and
found the card room well filled with bridge
players. The rainy afternoon had driven the
golfers to cards, and as one of the men, Terry
O’Connel, was on the point of leaving, I took
his place. I played till seven and then
started home to dinner. The rain had
stopped and a fresh chilly wind was rippling
the pools in the streets and rapidly drying
the sidewalks. The prospect of a cold
blustery evening made me look forward with
pleasure to the warm comfort of my study,
and a good book.
I had just finished a solitary dinner—
mother being confined to her room—and had
settled down in dressing gown and slippers
before my cheerful fire, when the telephone
rang. I put down my book and tried to think


THE WORST HAPPENS 71.
of some excuse for staying home, in case it
was my bridge-playing friends of the after-
noon wanting me to come back to the club.
A strange voice called from the other end of
the wire.
“Mr. Thompson?”
“Yes.” -
“There has been an accident to your broth-
er-in-law’s car.”
“What?—Where?—Who is this talking?”
I shouted breathlessly.
“This is Captain Wadsworth of the North
District Police Station speaking. Your
brother-in-law had a very bad accident with
his car at the second bridge on the Blandes-
Ville Road. Both Mr. and Mrs. Felderson
were pretty badly injured.”
“Where are they now?” I gasped, fear
clutching at my throat.
“They have been taken to St. Mary's Hos-
pital.”
Islammed down the receiver and tore into
my clothes. I ran out to the car and drove
through the dark wet streets regardless of


72 32 CALIBER
speed laws. From out the gray gloom, the
heavy bulk and lighted windows of St. Mary's
loomed just ahead. I ran up the steps and
went at once to the office. Three nurses were
standing there talking.
“Can you tell me where they have taken
Mr. and Mrs. Felderson?”
“Were they the people in the automobile
accident?”
I nodded my head.
One of the nurses led me to a large room
on the second floor. As we neared the door
a young interne, so the nurse told me, came
out. He was thoughtfully polishing his
glasses.
“I am Warren Thompson, Mr. Felderson’s
brother-in-law,” I explained. “Can you tell
me how badly Mr. and Mrs. Felderson were
hurt?”
He put his glasses back on his nose and
looked at me sympathetically.
“Mr. Felderson is dead, and Mrs. Felderson
is dying,” he said.


CHAPTER FIVE
ACCIDENT OR MURDER
AVE you ever had the whole world stop
for you? Well, that's what happened
when that young interne told me that Jim
was dead. I must have been half mad for a
few moments, at least they said I acted that
Way.
Sometimes, tragic news deadens the senses,
like the brief numbness that follows the Sud-
den cutting off of a limb, the pain not mani-
festing itself until some time afterward. But
with me, the fact of Jim's death clawed and
tore at the very foundation of my brain. It
stamped itself into my sensibilities with such
crushing force that I writhed under the
burden of its bitter actuality. I felt as
though I, myself, had died and my spirit,
Snatched from the brilliant, airy sunlight of
life, had been plunged into the hammering
emptiness of hell. “Jim is dead—big, happy,
73


74 32 CALIBER
kind-hearted Jim is dead,” ached through
my brain.
They gave me something to drink—am-
monia, I think—and my whirling head began
to clear.
“Can I See Mrs. Felderson?” I asked the
interne. It was he who had given me the
ammonia.
“I’m afraid not,” he replied. “She is being
prepared for the operating table.”
“There is a chance, then, of her being
saved?” I clutched at his arm.
He slowly shook his head. “One chance in
a thousand only, I'm afraid. There was
severe concussion of the brain and a slight
displacement of one of the cranial vertebra.
Luckily, Doctor Forbes is here, and if any one
can save her, he can.” He got up from his
seat beside me. “Now, Mr. Thompson, I
advise you to go home and get a good night's
rest. You can do nothing here, and the next
few days are bound to be a great strain.”
“You will telephone me at once the result
of the operation?” I asked quickly.


ACCIDENT OR MURDER 75
“I wouldn’t count too much on the opera-
tion,” he said kindly, “but I will let you
know.”
He turned and walked back toward Helen's
room. Just then the door was opened and
there appeared a sort of elongated baby-cab,
without a top. On this wheeling table was
a still white bundle, from which a stifled
moan escaped now and then. Shaken with
terror and nausea, Iran for the stairs and did
not stop until I got into my car and was
racing away.
As I drove, my brain cleared and I re-
membered that there were others to whom
the tragedy was almost as vital as to myself
and who ought to be informed. I stopped at
a corner drug store and called up Mary.
Mother should not be told until a physician
could assure me she was strong enough to
stand the shock.
Mary was wonderfully sympathetic and
tender, not voluble the way some women
would have been. She asked me if I had been
to the scene of the accident, and when I told


76 32 CALIBER
her I was just going, she asked me if I wanted
her with me. As it was after ten o'clock and
the rain had begun again, I told her “No,”
and added that I’d come to see her in the
morning.
When I left the telephone-booth the drug
clerk stared at me inquisitively.
“You look all fagged out,” he said frankly.
“I’m not feeling very well,” I replied,
struggling into my rain-coat.
“Better let me give you somethin’ to fix
you up,” he suggested. I acquiesced, and he
went to the shelf. and shook some white
powder into a glass. Then he put some water
with it and it phizzed merrily. I drank it at
a gulp and, climbing into the car, started for
the second bridge on the Blandesville Road.
The drink braced me up and as I drove I
began to recall the events of the last few
days, and for the first time to wonder if they
had any connection with the tragedy. Cap-
tain Wadsworth had told me it was an
accident. Could Frank Woods have been in
any way responsible? No, certainly not, for


ACCIDENT OR MURDER 77
Helen had been in the car, and he surely
would never have done anything to put her
life in jeopardy. But Woods didn't know
that she was there. He had told Jim to come
out alone; had insisted on it, in fact. It was
Jim's idea to bring Helen with him.
My heart was doing a hundred revolutions
to the minute. Now that I had hit on this
idea, every fiber of my being cried out that
Frank Woods was in some way responsible.
I tried to urge my car to more speed. The
wreck would surely tell me something. I
determined to hunt every inch of ground
around the place for a clue. Woods would
have to prove to me that he had nothing to
do with the accident before I’d believe him.
innocent.
I drove up the long hill overlooking the
little bridge that had suddenly assumed such
a tragic significance in my life. It lies at the
bottom of the hill, about half-way between
the city and the country-club and on the lone-
liest stretch of the entire road. There are no
houses about; the city not having grown that


78 32 CALIBER
far out and the soil being entirely unsuitable
for farming. In fact, there are only one or
two large trees nearby, to break the desolate
expanse, the vegetation consisting mostly of
thorny bushes springing from the rocky soil.
There have been several accidents at the
bridge, for its narrowness is deceiving and it
is impossible for two autos to pass. Motor-
ists, going to the club, usually let their cars
out on the long hill and if another car, coming
around the bend from the opposite direction,
reaches the bridge at the same time, only
skilful driving and good brakes can avoid a
Smash-up. The matter has been brought to
the attention of the authorities several times,
but nothing has ever been done, either to
widen the bridge or to warn automobilists of
the danger.
As I reached the top of the hill, I saw that
two automobiles had stopped at the bottom,
and, noticing that their lights blinked as
people passed back and forth in front of
them, I was convinced that a small crowd had
gathered, probably out of curiosity. I slowed


ACCIDENT OR MURDER 79
up as I neared the spot and came to a stop at
the side of the road. A motorcycle cop
walked up to my car.
“Inspector Robinson, sir?”
“No,” I answered, “I am Warren Thomp-
son, brother-in-law of Mr. Felderson, who had
the accident. How did it happen, do you
know, Sergeant?”
“It was the fault of the bridge again, sir.
I’ve told the chief that something ought to be
done. This is the third accident in six
months. We’ve been trying to find the other
car.”
“What other car?” I asked.
“The car that made Mr. Felderson take the
ditch,” he explained. “He must have been
driving fast—he usually did; many's the time
I’ve had to warn him—and must have seen
that the other car would meet him at the
bridge. He stopped too quick, skidded off
the road and turned over into the creek.”
I shuddered as I pictured the scene. One
of the automobiles turned around and the
lights picked out the upturned wheels of


80 32 CALIBER
Jim's car. It looked like some monster whose
back had been broken. It was a large Peck-
with-Pierce touring car, and the force of the
crash had twisted and smashed the huge
chassis. Several men were gathered around
the car, examining it with the aid of a barn-
lantern.
“Where were the bodies found?” I asked,
my voice trembling.
“Mrs. Felderson was over there on the
bank. She was thrown out likely when the
car left the road. Mr. Felderson’s body was
under the machine.”
While the thought of the heavy weight
crushing the life out of Jim sickened me, I
thanked God that death must have been in-
stantaneous.
“Do you know who found them, Sergeant?”
He pointed to a man standing by the wreck.
“That man over there. He found them and
took them to the hospital after sending one
of his friends to notify the police.”
The man evidently heard our voices, and
came over to us.


ACCIDENT OR MURDER 81
“Is this the inspector?” he asked.
“No,” I replied, “I am Mr. Felderson's
brother-in-law.”
“Oh, I’m sorry!” he said quickly. “May I
express my deep, deep sympathy?”
“Thank you. Will you tell me how you
discovered the accident?”
“I had been out to Blandesville on business
and was returning with a party of friends.
As we neared the bridge, one of them caught
sight of the upturned automobile in the creek,
and we stopped. We found Mrs. Felderson
first, being attracted by her moans. We went
at once to the car, and as there were four of
us, we were able to lift the automobile suffi-
ciently to get Mr. Felderson from under it.
We knew that the woman was still living,
but none of us was doctor enough to tell
whether Mr. Felderson was alive or not. We
carried them quickly to our car and hurried
to St. Mary’s, dropping one of my friends
at the North District Station to inform the
police what had occurred. Afterward we
drove back here, thinking we might be


82 32 CALIBER
wanted in case there was an investiga-
tion.”
“Did you see the lights of any car ahead
of you, as you came along the road?” I asked.
“Did any car pass you, going in the same
direction?”
“A car turned in ahead of us from the Mil-
lerstown Road about ten minutes before.”
“Do you think that might have been the
car that was partly responsible for this
accident?” I queried.
“Of course, no one could be sure in a situa-
tion of that kind, but I wouldn’t doubt it at
all. It left us behind as if We Were tied.”
Another car had driven up while we were
talking and our policeman had gone over to
it at once. He came back now, accompanied
by a short heavy-set man in plain clothes.
“I am Inspector Robinson, detailed to ex-
amine into this affair. Were you the man
who discovered the accident?” he asked,
addressing my companion.
“Yes, Inspector; Pickering is my name.
I'm with the Benefit Insurance Company.”


ACCIDENT OR MURDER 83
He told the circumstances of the discovery to
the plain-clothes man, who, all the time
Pickering was talking, bustled up and down
and around the car. Finally he made Pick-
ering show him just where the bodies lay.
“Distressing, distressing,” the inspector
chirped, “dreadful accident, dreadful indeed,
but quite to be expected with fast driving.
If they will risk their lives sy
“Inspector,” I broke in, “I am the brother-
in-law of the man who drove that car. While
he was a fast driver, he was not a careless
one. I’ve never known him to have an
accident before.” The little man irritated me.
“That’s the way it always happens,” he
came back at me; “they take risks a dozen
times and get away with them, and then—
Blooey!!”
“But aren’t you going to find the other
car?” I demanded.
“What other car?” he snapped.
“The one that must have been coming from
the opposite direction; that caused this
accident.”


84 32 CALIBER
“Do you know there was any such car?”
he bristled.
“There must have been,” I answered. “No
accident has ever happened here except under
Such circumstances. Besides, Mr. Pickering
saw a car turn into this road ahead of him
not ten minutes before the accident.”
Robinson looked from me to Pickering as
though we were both conspiring to defeat
justice.
“Did you see such a car?” he barked at
Pickering.
“A car turned out of the Millerstown Road
and went toward the city about ten minutes
before we discovered the bodies,” Pickering
replied evenly.
“Why didn’t you say so?” the detective
asked sharply. “What kind of a car was it?”
“A black limousine with wire wheels. I
couldn’t see the number.”
Robinson's humor seemed to have come
back.
“Now we're getting on,” he said, rubbing
his hands. “That's better. That's much


ACCIDENT OR MURDER 85
better. If you gentlemen had just told me
that in the first place we'd have saved all this
time.”
He turned to the motorcycle policeman.
“Feeney, go over to Millerstown and inquire
if a black limousine with wire wheels stopped
there to-night between eight and nine
O’clock.”
A figure, unnoticed in the darkness, ap-
proached. It proved to be a lanky farmer,
who spoke with a decided drawl.
“I reckon I kin help ye thar. They was a
big limozine tourin’ car with wire wheels
went through Millerstown 'bout ha’f past
eight, quat’t nine. I know, 'cause it durn
near run me down.”
“Do you live in Millerstown?” the inspector
questioned.
“Yep! Come over t” see the accident.”
“Did that auto stop in Millerstown?”
The farmer chuckled and expectorated.
“It didn’t even hesitate.”
“Can you tell us anything else about it?”
I spoke up,


86 32 CALIBER
The inspector glared at me. “I’ll conduct
this investigation, Mr.—err **
The farmer scratched his head. “Waal,
nothin much. It went too blamed fast fer
me to git mor'n a right good look, but I did
See that it was full o' men an’ the tail-light
was bu'sted an’ they wa’n’t no license on it.”
“You’re sure of that?” the inspector
asked.
“Yep!” he said, “I’m sure, 'cause I was
goin’ to report 'em.”
Again the inspector turned to Feeney, who
had been listening intently.
“Feeney, go in and tell the chief to issue
instructions to all the force to keep an eye
out for a black limousine with wire wheels, a
broken tail-light and no license tag! My
friend,” he said, turning to the farmer, “I
thank you for your information. By to-mor-
row night we’ll have that car and the parties
concerned. By gad! They had their nerve,
running away after the accident. The damned
rascals—killing people and then running
away. I'll grill their toes for them,”


ACCIDENT OR MURDER 87
The malice of the little detective, his readi-
ness to jump from one conclusion to another,
reminded me for all the world of some dis-
agreeable, little, barking dog that chases
every passing vehicle.
I bade him good night, shook hands with
Pickering and was on my way back to my
car, when another automobile drove up.
Three men jumped out, and as they passed
in front of the lamps, I recognized Lawrence
Brown and Fred Paisley, from the club; the
third man was Frank Woods. As I caught
sight of his well-set-up figure, all the hatred
I had for him seemed to rise in my throat and
choke me. Try as I would I couldn’t separate
him from the tragedy. When the farmer
said the black limousine was full of men, I
realized that Frank Woods couldn’t have been
one of them, and yet, so great was my
distrust of the man, that I felt like accusing
him on the spot.
Larry Brown caught sight of me and
wrung my hand. “Dammit, old man, I can’t
tell you how sorry I am.” Paisley patted me


88 32 CALIBER
on the back. “If there is anything we can
do, Thompson—”
I shook my head and tears came to my
eyes. They made me realize poignantly how
much I had lost. Woods didn’t join us. He
knew if he tried to sympathize with me, after
the affair the other day, that I would throttle
him for his hypocrisy.
“Was Jim killed outright?” Brown asked.
“Yes! And there’s one chance in a thou-
Sand for Helen.”
Both men started. “Was Mrs. Felderson
there? They telephoned us at the club that
Jim had been killed, but we didn’t know she
was With him.”
They glanced at each other and then at
Woods, who was standing by the side of the
Overturned car.
“You’d better tell him, Larry,” Paisley
muttered.
“Doesn’t he know?” I asked.
“Of course not,” replied Brown. “He was
out there at the club with us. I'm afraid it
will hit him awfully hard.”


ACCIDENT OR MURDER 89
He stepped over to Woods and, taking him
by the arm, they disappeared into the dark-
ness. We heard a choking cry, and the next
moment Woods came running toward us. His
face was distorted with horror and his eyes
were almost starting from his head.
“Thompson, for God’s sake, tell me he lies!
Tell me he lies!” he shrieked. “Helen wasn’t
in that car?”
The old suspicions came tumbling back an
hundredfold and I turned cold all over.
“It is true,” I said, “Mrs. Felderson is in
the hospital at the point of death.”
With a stifled groan, Woods sank to the
ground and buried his face in his shaking
hands.


CHAPTER SIX
A CLUE AND A VERDICT
DROVE home with my thoughts in a
tumult. The look on Woods’ face and
the vehemence of his words made me sure he
was in some way responsible for Jim's death.
I walked the floor for hours trying to build
up my case against him. He had sworn to
kill Jim, unless he let Helen go, and he must
have known that afternoon that not only was
Jim going to keep Helen from him, but that
he had the proof with which to ruin him
forever. He had planned to have it out with
Jim at the country-club, knowing it would be
a cold damp night and that few people would
be out there. He had emphatically stated
that Jim should come alone and should be
there promptly at half-past eight. All those
facts pointed to the man’s guilt and I felt sure
that in some way I should be able to unearth
the proof.
I knew I ought to sleep, but sleep was the
90


A CLUE AND A VERDICT 91
last thing I could do. Twice I called up the
hospital to inquire after Helen, but they
could tell me nothing. Had the operation
been successful? Yes, she had come through
it. Would she get well? Ah, that they could
not say. They would let me know if there
was any change. I sent a telegram to Jim's
uncle in the West, the only relative Jim ever
corresponded with, and told him to notify any
others to whom the news would be of vital
interest.
Toward five o’clock, when dawn was just
graying the windows, I threw myself on my
bed. I suddenly realized I was extremely
tired, yet my brain was buzzing like a
dynamo. Pictures and scenes from the last
few days flashed through my mind: the vin-
dictive look in Helen’s eyes after the fight
with Woods; that table being wheeled out of
Helen’s room at the hospital, with the moan-
ing white bundle on it; the upturned car
pricked out of the darkness by the automobile
lamps, and finally, Frank Woods’ face when
he heard that Helen had been in the car.


A CLUE AND A VERDICT 93
inson, who was calmly reading over the
correspondence on Jim's desk. With all the
“sang-froid” in the world, he met my infuri-
ated gaze.
“Good morning, Mr. Thompson. Thought
there might be something here touching on
the case.” He waved a hand toward Jim's
letter basket.
“Have you found the black limousine?”
I asked.
“Certainly, my dear man, certainly | We’ve
not only found the car, but we found the
people who were in the car and they know
nothing about the accident. My first ex-
planation was the right one, as I knew it
would be. Felderson was driving recklessly,
saw the bridge, put on the brakes, skidded-
was killed.”
“But why should he put on his brakes at
the bridge?” I queried.
“I’ve thought of that,” he smiled. “Per-
fectly logical. There's a nasty bump at the
bridge and he naturally didn’t want to jar
Mrs. Felderson.”


94 82 CALIBER
“So he turned into the ditch and pitched
her out on her head instead,” I jeered.
“That's all poppy-cock. I’ve taken that
bridge at full speed a hundred times without
a jar.”
“It’s immaterial anyway,” he snapped,
frowning at me. “You can’t make any fool
mystery out of it. The point is that Mr.
Felderson put on his brakes rapidly, perhaps
for a dog or a rabbit, and skidded into the
ditch.”
“It’s not immaterial l” I burst out angrily.
“There was a real reason for his putting his
brakes on rapidly. He was afraid of hitting
something, or being hit himself. Who was
the driver of that other car?”
“The son of one of the biggest men in the
state, Karl Schreiber.”
“Karl Schreiber?” I cried. “The Son of the
German Socialist, who was put in jail for
dodging the draft?” I grabbed him by the
arm. “Quick, man! Who were the others
With him?”
Robinson gazed at me with a stupid frown.


96 32 CALIBER
“Inspector,” I said, “I am fully convinced
that the men in the black limousine are re-
sponsible for my brother-in-law's accident.”
“What makes you think that?” he de-
manded, eying me narrowly.
“Because all of them had reason to hate
and fear my brother-in-law. Zalnitch, since
his release, has sworn he would get even with
Mr. Felderson for putting him in prison.
Metzger felt the same way. As for Schreiber,
I'm sure if he could have manipulated that
car so as to cause an accident to Mr. Felder-
son, he would have done it.”
“You’re crazy,” Robinson sneered. “This
thing’s gone to your head. How could they
have known it was your brother-in-law's car?”
“By the big search-light in front. It's the
only car in the state with such a search-light.
Mr. Felderson’s car was so fast that the po-
lice sometimes used it, and he had their per-
mission to wear that light, as you probably
know. Also, it may have been dark enough
to use the search-light and yet light enough
so that a car could be distinguished at a


A CLUE AND A VERDICT 97
hundred feet. If there was any light at all,
that big Peckwith-Pierce car could be recog-
nized by any one.” He was impressed. I
could see it by the thoughtful, shrewd look
that came into his eyes. Already, he was
making arrests by the wholesale, in his mind.
“But I can’t go pulling these men for mur-
der on such slight evidence as that,” he ex-
ploded.
“No one wants you to,” I said sharply.
“All I want you to do is to help me find out
whether those men were present when the
accident happened.”
The idea of helping me didn’t please him
at all. As soon as I had spoken I saw my
error in not putting it the other way around.
“Now, Mr. Thompson, you better keep out
of this,” he advised, getting to his feet. “I
know that you are anxious to find out if these
men had anything to do with Mr. Felder-
son’s death, but the case is in good hands.
We professionals can do a lot better, when
there's no amateurs messing about. You
leave it to me!”


98 32 CALIBER
“Just as you say,” I acquiesced. “Get
busy, though, and if you find out anything,
let me know!”
Robinson stood a minute, turning his derby
hat in his hands. I knew what he was after.
“By the way,” I added. “I’ll pay all ex-
penses.”
His face brightened at once. “Well, now,
that’s good of you, Mr. Thompson. I wasn’t
going to suggest anything like that, but it'll
help a lot.”
I handed over several bills, which he pock-
eted with satisfaction.
“Don’t you worry a minute, Mr. Thompson.
We'll get those birds yet. I was pretty sure
they had something to do with it, all the
time. You've got the best man in the de-
partment on the job.”
He put on his derby hat with a flourish
and trotted out the door. I recalled that I
had told Mary I would see her, so I dismissed
the stenographers and locked up the office.
It was a perfect morning, with all the warm
spicy perfumes of Indian summer. Over-


A CLUE AND A VERDICT 99
*
head, a blue sky was filled with tumbled
clouds of snowy whiteness. The rain of the
night before was still on the grass and the
trees, giving a dewy fragrance to the air that
was invigorating.
Now that I had found a possible solution
to the tragedy, I was filled with enthusiasm.
I felt that if I could bring Jim's murderers
to trial, I would conduct such a case for the
prosecution as would send them up for life.
They had succeeded in carrying out their
threats, but I would make them pay for it.
I stopped in front of Mary’s house and
honked the horn. She opened the door and
came quickly to the car. The tragic news of
the night before had taken the laughter out
of her eyes and the buoyancy from her step.
“I could cry my eyes out, Bupps,” she said
as she climbed into the car.
“Don’t do it, or I'll start, too,” I responded,
a lump coming in my throat.
“How did it happen?” she asked, as we
drove away. “The papers gave a long ac-
count, but said it was an accident.”


100 32 CALIBER
“Zalnitch did it, Mary. At least, I’m almost
sure it was he.” I told her what I had
learned during the morning, and as I talked,
I finally touched on Frank Woods’ strange
Words of the night before.
“You don’t think he had anything to do
with it, do you, Bupps?”
“No,” I said. “I did think so, but I have
changed my mind since this morning. I
suppose it was just his grief that made him
act so queerly.”
“He does love Helen, Bupps,” Mary mur-
mured. “Helen got quite confidential while
she was staying with me, and the things she
told me about Woods made me see he was
really in love with her.”
“Yes, I suppose he does love her,” I re-
sponded, “but he had no right to take her
away from Jim.”
“It’s the man who takes a woman, whether
he has the right or not, that wins,” responded
Mary seriously.
I looked at her and wondered whether she
was growing the least bit personal. She was


A CLUE AND A VERDICT 101
looking straight ahead, with an unsmiling
gaze. As I glanced at her, there beside me,
with the breeze blowing wisps of golden hair
around her temples, I got panic-stricken.
“Mary—” I began.
“Watch where you are going, Bupps
I fastened my eyes on the street ahead,
but only for an instant. With Jim gone, I
was going to be fearfully lonesome. I glanced
at her again.
“Mary, I know this isn’t the right time or
place, but—”
“Let’s go to the hospital and find out about
Helen,” she interposed quickly. She knew
we were going there all the time. The men-
tion of Helen brought me back to earth with
a snap, and made me realize I had no business
talking about love at such a time. Yet never
in my life did I feel more like telling Mary
how much I wanted her.
We had no sooner entered the cool hall of
St. Mary’s than the little interne with glasses,
whom I had seen the night before, came hur-
rying up to me.


CHAPTER SEVEN
ITURN DETECTIVE
URDERED ! For a moment I Was Stu-
pefied by the doctor's revelation, and
then, as he went on to describe the course of
the bullet, and certain technical aspects of the
case, a sudden rush of thankfulness came
over me. Let me explain! The coroner had
given a verdict of murder by person or per-
sons unknown. From the first moment I
heard of the accident I was certain there was
something sinister about it, but had little on
which to base my belief. The coroner's ver-
dict substantiated my suspicions and gave me
a chance to work in the open; to bring into
court, if possible, the people I suspected.
Murder by person or persons unknown?
I knew the persons: Zalnitch, Metzger,
Schreiber. They must have recognized the
car as it came toward them and taken a shot
as they went by. My thoughts were recalled
from their wanderings by an unexpected sen-
103


104 32 CALIBER
tence of the coroner's. I had been following
him vaguely, but now my attention was riv-
eted.
“One could not be sure, because of the
varied course that bullets take through the
body, but the shot seems to have been fired
from above and behind. Unless it were other-
wise proved, I’d strongly suspect that the
murderer had fired the shot from the back
Seat of the car.”
“Of course that is impossible,” I said, “be-
cause in that case the murderer would have
been in the accident.”
“I had the same idea,” he said slowly, giv-
ing me a searching look.
Helen I
I felt suddenly sick and faint. I wanted
air, sunlight; to get away from that dark-
ened room and those piercing eyes that
seemed to read my thoughts. I thanked him
for letting me know what he had discovered,
and hurriedly excused myself.
Helen! The blood pounded through my
temples,


I TURN DETECTIVE 107
ment before they left. I knew Jim was ex-
cited and that Helen was angry. Of course
I didn’t hear all that passed between them,
I tried not to hear any, but they talked very
loud and were right in the next room.”
“What did you hear?” I asked, my heart
sinking.
“Once Jim laughed, a hard sort of laugh,
and I heard Helen say, ‘You lie! You know
you are lying! He will disprove everything
you say!” Another time I heard Helen ex-
claim, ‘Give me that pistol! You shan’t
threaten him while I’m there!' I knew, of
course, they were speaking of Frank Woods,
but I didn’t know what it was all about. But
why do you ask all this, Bupps?”
“Mary,” I said, and I couldn’t look at her,
“the coroner has given a verdict of murder.”
“Murder?” Mary gasped. I nodded.
“Jim was shot from behind, while he was
driving Helen out to the country-club to meet
Woods, and Helen was in the back seat.”
“She didn’t do it!” Mary burst out. “She
couldn’t have done it.”


I TURN DETECTIVE 109
“Poor, dear Mr. Felderson. It is such a
loss. I was shocked to death when I heard
it. And Mrs. Felderson, the poor child, is she
going to—ah—t-t-t. I was afraid so when I
read it in the paper. I’m surprised to find
you here. How is your poor dear mother?”
I knew that the woman would gossip all
over the place about my heartlessness, unless
I explained my presence in a public café so
soon after Jim’s death and my sister’s injury.
“My mother doesn’t know about it yet,” I
said quietly. “I didn’t think her strong
enough to stand the shock. I shouldn’t have
come here, but I had a very important mat-
ter to talk over with Miss Pendleton.”
“I could see that from the way you were
sitting,” she giggled. “I’m afraid that you're
going to give Eastbrook something to talk
about as soon as this distressing thing is
over.” She patted my arm, beamed at Mary
and swished over to her party.
“We shouldn't have come here, Mary,” I
said with a sour grimace.
“I forgot that old cat sometimes comes


I TURN DETECTIVE 111
only half as much proof, and she has just
about the mental equipment of the average
juryman. There’ll be about four Mrs.
Webster Pratts on that jury.”
“What can we do, Bupps?” Mary begged
with tears in her eyes.
“Well,” I said, “you’ve got to see Helen as
soon as they will let you and as often as
they’ll let you, so that the first time she
speaks, you'll be there to hear what she says.”
“But suppose she dies, Bupps?”
“Even while she is unconscious,” I went
on, disregarding her query, “she may say
something that will give us a clue. I'm
going out to the bridge right after lunch.”
“What for?” Mary asked.
“To see if I can find Jim’s revolver. If it
had been found on Helen, the coroner would
have told me this morning, I think. Of
course, they may not have taken it at all. In
that case it will still be at your house. If
Helen took it with her, it must have fallen
out when the car turned over, and if it did,
I must get it before anybody else does.”


112 32 CALIBER
The waiter interrupted here with the
salad. Mary dabbled with hers a bit and
then said:
“Bupps, hadn't I better get out of town?”
“No,” I replied. “They'd be sure to find
you, and when you gave your testimony, it
would hurt Helen just that much more.”
“But I can’t stand up before them and tell
what I heard. I’ll lie first.” Her lovely
little face clouded up as though she were
going to cry.
“You’ll do nothing of the kind!” I insisted.
“We know Helen didn’t do it. Don’t we?”
“Ye-es.” Her tone was not convincing.
“Well, then, whatever we say can’t hurt
her. And we're bound to find out who the
guilty persons are.”
“But, Bupps, who could it have been?” she
asked anxiously.
“I still think it was Zalnitch and the men
who were with him, but it might have been
Woods. I’m going to find out everything he
did last night. It may throw some light on
the case. After all, he is the one who had


I TURN DETECTIVE 113
the most to gain by Jim's death, and his
words of last night were mighty queer.”
I paid the waiter and we left the café. On
the way to Mary’s I stopped at the under-
taker’s and made arrangements for Jim's
burial. The man in charge was the saddest
looking person I have ever seen. He had a
woebegone look about him that was infec-
tious—made you want to weep for him or
with him. He discussed the funeral arrange-
ments in a hushed voice and finished by whis-
pering, “I sincerely hope what the papers are
hinting is not so.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“The noon edition of The Sun says, “The
finger of suspicion points very strongly to
Mrs. Felderson.’”
I hurried out to the car and jumped in.
“Mary, we’ve got to work fast.”
“Is Helen suspected?” she asked.
“Yes. The Sun is more than hinting.”
The news seemed to bring out the fight in
Mary.
“Well, we'll prove her innocent.”


114 32 CALIBER
When we reached the Pendletons’ We
hurried into the house and went at once to
the room where Jim and Helen had their
argument. The revolver was not there.


CHAPTER EIGHT
IT LOOKS BAD FOR HELEN
DROVE Mary to the hospital with my
spirits at lowest ebb. If The Sun were
going to try to convict Helen of the murder,
I realized that we had a hard fight ahead of
us, for that yellow sheet was most zealous in
hounding down any one who happened to be
socially prominent, and in demanding pun-
ishment. The blacker the scandal, the
deeper they dug, and the more details they
gave to their gluttonous, filth-loving public.
They would be particularly eager here, for
they had no love for Jim, due to the stand he
took against them during the war.
I knew the reporters would be hot on my
trail and that sooner or later they would
interview Mary. So I determined that Mary
should spend as much time as possible at the
hospital, feeling sure the reporters would
not be allowed in the room where Helen lay,
battered and unconscious. As for me, I
115


IT LOOKS BAD FOR HELEN 117
alone. My suspicions of the man stirred
afresh, so that when I came to the bridge and
found no one there, I decided to leave my
search for the revolver until later and go
straight on to the club.
It was still early for the golfers and the
bridge players and there were only a few
people there. These, of course, came up
to me and pressed my hand with genuine
sympathy. I realized how many, many
friends Jim had and what a loss his death
was to them all.
As soon as I could disengage myself I
hunted up Jackson, the negro head-waiter
and general house-man, who knows every-
thing that happens at the club. He had just
finished his dinner and I drew him into the
cloak-room so that our talk might be unin-
terrupted. I took out a five dollar bill and
held it up before his expectant eyes.
“Do you see that, Jackson?” I questioned.
“Yas, indeed Ah sees it, suh! Ah may be
gittin’ old but Ah ain’t blind yit. Ah’ll git
you whut you wants, instan’ly.”


118 32 CALIBER
He started to leave, but I grabbed him.
“That's not what I want, Jackson,” I
laughed. Since the prohibition law went
into effect, it has been only through some
such ritual that “wets” can get theirs at the
club. “All I want is to ask you a few ques-
tions.”
“Fo’ dat money?” His teeth gleamed.
I nodded.
“Mr. Woods was here last night?” I asked,
abruptly.
“Yas, Suh.”
“What time did he come in?”
“Ah cain’t raghtly say, Mist' Thompsin,
but he had dinnah out heah 'bout Seben-
thuty,” he answered.
“Did he leave the club after that?”
“Not 'til de telephone call come whut says
Mist’ Feldahson ben killt. Den he lef’ wif
Mist Brown an Mist Paisley.”
“You’re sure he was here all that time?”
I asked.
“No, sah, I ain’t suah, but Ah seen him ev’y
9 99
now an’ den thu de ev'nin',


IT LOOKS BAD FOR HELEN 119
“Was he here at quarter past eight?” I
questioned.
“He was heah at twenty-fahv minutes past
eight, Ah knows, cause Ah done brought him
a drink.”
“You’re Sure Of that?”
“Yas, Suh ! Positive!” the negro answered.
“’Cause Ah looked at de clock raght den an’
der.”
As near as I could figure, the accident had
happened about eight-ten or eight-fifteen and
the bridge was six miles away from the club.
Woods couldn’t have been at the bridge at the
time of the tragedy and got back to the
club by eighty twenty-five. Still, he might
have had an accomplice.
“Thank you, Jackson,” I said, giving him
the money. “Just forget that I asked you
any questions!”
The darky chuckled. “Ah done fohgot 'em
befoh you evah asted 'em, suh. Thank you,
Suh !”
As I passed into the big, central living-
room, Paisley came in.


120 82 CALIBER
“What was this I saw in The Sun?” he
asked.
“The sort of rot that nasty sheet always
prints,” I said.
“Nothing to it of course. I thought not.
You don’t feel like golfing?”
I shook my head. “Not to-day, old chap.
By the way, were you with Frank Woods
when the news of Jim's death reached the
club?”
“Yes—why?” he asked.
“You won’t think it too strange if I ask
you how he appeared to take it?” I said, try-
ing to make my remark seem as casual as
possible. Seeing the puzzled expression on
his face, I added: “I know it is a peculiar
thing to ask, but please don’t think any more
about it than you can help, and just answer.”
“Why—” Paisley began, a little flustered,
“why he took it just the way the rest of us
took it, I suppose. I don’t remember ex-
actly.”
“Did he seem surprised?” I questioned.
“Of course,” Paisley answered.


IT LOOKS BAD FOR HELEN 121
“He didn’t seem relieved?”
“Say, what the devil are you driving at,
Thompson?” Paisley burst out.
I saw I could get nothing from him so I
left him looking after me with a perplexed
and somewhat indignant gaze. As a detective
it seemed I might make a good plumber. I
knew very well he would not repeat my ques-
tions, but it would be just like good old
Paisley to worry himself to death trying to
solve them.
I drove back to the bridge, determined to
find the revolver, if possible, and then hunt
up Inspector Robinson to learn what he had
to report. Apparently, my suspicions of
Frank Woods were groundless. He had had
dinner at the club and then waited around
for Jim to keep his appointment. He had
been seen by Jackson at eight twenty-five;
Jackson was positive of that fact. Ten or
fifteen minutes at the most in which to go
six miles to the bridge and back to the club,
put up his car and ask Jackson for a drink.
The thing couldn’t be done. He had heard


122 32 CALIBER
of Jim's death with surprise and had heard
of Helen's injury with the greatest horror.
There seemed to be no doubt of one thing:
no matter how much he wished for Jim's
death, no matter how much he benefited by
the murder, Frank Woods, himself, didn’t do
the killing.
An automobile was standing at the bridge
when I got there and I cursed the whim that
had sent me to the club on a false scent and
kept me from having an uninterrupted
search for the weapon. When I saw, how-
ever, that the driver of the automobile was
Inspector Robinson, I was greatly relieved,
for this would not only give me a chance to
learn what he had discovered concerning the
men in the black limousine, but would not
interfere with the search for Jim's gun. Rob-
inson had his coat off and his sleeves rolled
up and was fishing around the edge of the
little creek with his hands. So engrossed
was he in his task that I was almost upon
him before he looked up.
“Good afternoon, Inspector,” I addressed


IT LOOKS BAD FOR HELEN 123
him. “What are you doing, digging for gold
or making mud pies?”
“I’m gettin' bait to catch a sucker,” he
snarled. “You must have thought you had
One this morning.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“All that bunk you handed me about
Schreiber and the men in the black limousine.
That was a fine stall you pulled. I might
have known you was tryin’ to cover up some-
body’s tracks.”
He dried his hands on a rather flamboyant,
yellow handkerchief.
“I haven’t the least idea what you are talk-
ing about,” I replied coldly.
“Oh, you haven’t, haven’t you?” the little
man burst out malignantly. “You’re inno-
cent, you are! Too damned innocent! I sup-
pose you didn’t know that your brother-in-
law was shot in the back of the head and that
your sister was the only one that was with
him when it was done. I suppose that's
news—eh?”
My heart stood still as I heard his words.


124 32 CALIBER
So he was after the proof that Helen did it.
He had read the insinuations in The Sun
and had abandoned his work against Schrei-
ber and Zalnitch for the fresher trail.
“I found out this morning that my brother-
in-law was shot, but that only makes the
case look the blacker for those who openly
threatened his life.”
“Among whom was your beautiful sister,”
the detective retorted acidly.
“How do you know that?” I demanded.
“From her maid and all the rest of the
servants in the house. I found that out when
I went up to take another squint at the auto-
mobile. You thought you were pretty smart
sendin’ me on a wild-goose chase after a
couple of cracked Socialists, when all the
time you knew it was your own sister done
the thing. Tried to keep me off the track
by slippin’ me a little dough. Well, it didn’t
work, see? There's your dough back.” He
threw a crumpled wad of bills on the ground
at my feet. “No one saw you give it to me,
but I ain’t takin’ any chances, you may have


IT LOOKS BAD FOR HELEN 125
marked those bills. From now on I work .
alone without any theories from you.” -
“Look here, Inspector!” I demanded, “I
was in earnest when I told you I wanted you
to find out all you could about the men in the
black limousine. I’m sure they had some-
thing to do with Mr. Felderson’s death. I
didn’t try to bribe you, nor throw you off the
right track. Even though my sister did have
a little unpleasantness with her husband, it
was no serious difference.”
I determined to find out just how much
Robinson knew.
“She was utterly incapable of doing an act
like this. What possible motive could she
have?”
I could see that Robinson was rather im-
patiently waiting for me to go before contin-
uing his search.
“Well, I ain’t found out her motive yet.
That can wait. It might have been money
or jealousy.”
“Money?” I scoffed. “My sister had
plenty; more than she could use. And as for


126 32 CALIBER
her being jealous of her husband, that is even
more ridiculous.”
The little man eyed me angrily. “I said
that the motive could wait. There's no
tellin’ what a society woman will do. She
may have been crazy for all I know. But I
ain’t, and all your arguin’ is just so much
time wasted. You think those guys in the
automobile done it. I don’t. I think your
sister done it. You don’t. All right, then,
you take your road and I’ll take mine, and
we’ll see who comes out ahead.”
He turned and started back to where he
had been hunting when I came up.
“May I ask what you expect to find here?”
I queried, walking after him.
“Sure you can ask,” he replied. As he
found me following, he turned and snapped:
“Say, what the hell are you hangin’ around
here for, anyway?”
“I merely wanted to ask what you had dis-
covered about the men in the black limousine.
That's why I stopped.”
“Well, you’ve found out, haven’t you?


IT LOOKS BAD FOR HELEN 127
Nothin'. All right then, you go on into the
city and see if you can find out anything
more!”
I walked on down the sloping bank, search-
ing the ground to see if I could find the gun
that might reveal so much. I could feel the
eyes of the inspector boring into my back.
“What are you looking for?” he demanded.
“A cuff-link,” I answered easily. “I think
I lost one here last night. You didn’t happen
to find it, did you?”
“A cuff-link? Humph!” he grunted.
“No, I haven’t found it, but I wouldn’t be
surprised if I was lookin’ for that same
cuff-link.”
All this time I was searching the bank with
my eyes. A scrubby, little bush overhung
the creek and I kicked at it with my foot.
There was a “plopp” as though something
heavy had dropped into the water. Instinc-
tively I knew it was the object for which we
were both searching, and I turned to find the
inspector eying me quizzically.
“What was that noise?”


128 32 CALIBER
“What noise?” I asked.
“Sounded as though that precious cuff-link
of yours had dropped into the water.” He
started for me, and as he did so, I bent down
quickly and plunged my arm into the water.
My fingers closed on the revolver just as he
came bounding toward me. With a quick
shove I pushed it far into the soft clay of the
bank, and, grabbing a rock off the bottom of
the creek, withdrew my arm from the water
and slipped the rock into my pocket. The
red-faced little detective was peering over
my shoulder as I turned. Rarely have I seen
a man SO angry. *
“Give me what you pulled out of that
creek!” he almost screamed. \
“What for, Inspector?” I asked quietly.
“Never mind what for. You give me what
you found in that creek, or I'll—” he grabbed
me by the shoulder.
“All right,” I said; “all right, Inspector,
don’t get so excited over nothing. It's yours.”
I pulled the muddy rock from my coat pocket
and gravely handed it to him. “It was only


IT LOOKS BAD FOR HELEN 129
an ordinary, every-day rock. I didn’t know
you were a geologist.”
He pounced on me and ran his fingers over
my person. Red-faced, he surveyed me.
“I ain’t a geologist, but I am a criminolo-
gist, and just one more of your monkey tricks
like that and I’ll put you where you’ll have
time to study a lot of rocks and do a lot of
thinkin’ before bein’ funny again. Now, you
get out! Get into that car as quick as you
can, if you know what’s good for you!”
Hoping I could retrieve the revolver later,
and realizing that nothing could be gained by
staying there longer, I started toward the
car. I had hardly taken five steps when I
heard a joyful yell and turned to see Robin-
son struggling to his feet, the muddy
revolver in his hand.
“Here's your cuff-link,” he cried. “Before
I’m through you’ll find that this ain’t a cuff-
link, but a necklace for the neck of that
pretty sister of yours. You, with your
Socialists and your cuff-buttons, tryin’ to
keep me from gettin’ what I go after. Well,


130 32 CALIBER
it didn’t work! It don’t usually, when I go
after somethin’. It didn't work, did it?”
“No. It didn’t work,” I admitted.
“Oh, I don’t blame you,” Robinson went
on, mollified by his success and the soft tone
of my reply; “I’d of done the same thing
in your place, if my sister was a murderer.”
The word “murderer” acted like an electric
shock on me.
“She didn’t do it, I tell you; she couldn’t
have done it!”
“Now, Mr. Thompson,” Robinson began in
a Soothing voice. “These things happen in
even the best families sometimes. You
mustn't take it too hard.”
“Will you let me examine that revolver?”
I demanded.
“Why, no. I can’t let you examine it. But
I'll examine it when I get ready.”
“Will you be so good as to do it now?” I
asked.
“What for?”
“Because it may not have been fired at all.


132 32 CALIBER
of the clip. There are only three cartridges
left in this clip.”
“Do you mean to say that my sister fired
more than one shot?” I asked sarcastically.
“Not at all, not at all,” the little man re-
sponded airily. “There were probably only
four cartridges in the gun in the first place.
You’re gettin’ all excited over this thing. Of
course, I don’t blame you, Mr. Thompson, for
tryin’ to fight against facts, but it certainly
looks bad for sister.”
I got into my car and started home, my
heart dead within me. It certainly did look
bad for Helen.


134 32 CALIBER
minutes before his death. This had strength-
ened my suspicions, but the case would have
been hard to prove, while the evidence
against Helen was too pronounced to be
disregarded. Woods, too, had gained my
suspicions, and yet he was miles away from
the murder. I realized suddenly that I had
been refusing to look at the obvious in order
that I might place the guilt where I wanted
to believe it lay. Yet it did seem the irony
of fate that the two men benefiting by Jim's
death should have had nothing to do with it.
Helen did it! As the awful realization of
what that meant came over me, I hoped, for
a brief second, that death would take her and
so spare her the consequences of her act. It
would be such an easy way out. I felt sure
that if she died I could hush the whole thing
up. The Sun could be bought, if enough
money Was offered.
These gruesome thoughts carried me into
the city almost before I knew it. I stopped
at the house to change my muddy clothes,
before going to the hospital to get Mary,


138 32 CALIBER
tion for the murder of her husband was
torturing her poor delirious brain. For a
moment I forgave her everything and pitied
her from the depths of my heart.
The smell of ether lay thick in the air as
I walked down the long corridor to Helen's
room. I knocked softly at the door and a
white-capped nurse opened it a little way,
her finger to her lips. I beckoned her outside
and told her Doctor Forbes wished me to find
out, if I could, what troubled my sister's
mind.
As we entered, I saw Mary sitting by the
bed, holding the hand of the poor white fig-
ure that lay, death-like, beneath the sheet.
Helen's head was swathed in bandages,
except for the Oval of her face. She looked
quite like some fair nun who had said her
last “Ava.” It was impossible to believe that
it was her hand that had fired the shot that
killed Jim, and if she lived, that she would
have to face the world a murderer.
Mary only glanced up at me for a moment
and then turned her eyes again to Helen's


LOOK OUT, JIM 139
lips to catch any sound that might pass them.
As I watched her sitting there so patiently,
a little pale from her cramped vigil by the
bedside, a great tenderness welled up in my
heart, for her. Just then Helen's lips began
to move. At first the words were inaudible,
although Mary leaned forward to catch them.
Then with a half-cry, in which there was a
perfect agony of fear
“Look out, Jim! It's going to hit us!
Oh-oh-oh—”
The voice died away and was succeeded by
moans, low and trembling. Mary glanced
up with a startled look in her eyes. The
nurse went quickly to the bedside and
soothed the impatient hand that was plucking
at the sheets. As for me, my forehead was
bathed in sweat and tears were running down
my cheeks, but a joy throbbed and sang
through my heart till I felt that I should
suffocate unless I left that ether-filled room
for the open air.
I tiptoed toward the door and caught a
nod from Mary as I passed, which said she


140 32 CALIBER
would join me later. For a second, after I
closed the door, I couldn't move. My legs
failed me and I felt I was going to faint.
Gathering all my strength, I stumbled over
to a chair by the window and sat down.
I think I should have dropped to my knees
and thanked God right there, if I hadn’t
feared that my prayers would have been
interrupted. That cry, “Look out, Jim!”
proved not only that Helen had nothing
whatever to do with Jim's death, but that she
had tried to warn him of his danger. “It’s
going to hit us!” What could that mean but
that my first theory was correct, that the
men in the black limousine had recognized
Jim's car and had tried to run him into the
ditch? Schreiber and Zalnitch were at the
bottom of it, after all, and Helen was
innocent.
As I had hoped she would die, when I
thought her guilty, now I hoped and prayed
she would live. I recalled Doctor Forbes'
words: “If we could only hit on something
that would ease her mind of those fears, I


142 32 CALIBER
“Her other fears,” I replied, “probably had
to do with Woods. But that cry to Jim to
‘Look out! is a real clue and I’m going to
sift it to the bottom.”
“What are you going to do?” Mary de-
manded.
“I’m going to accuse Zalnitch of Jim's
murder—going to accuse him to his face.”
“Oh, be careful, Bupps! Nothing must
happen to you!”
The tone she used, her sweet anxiety for
my safety, went to my head and I reached
out to take her in my arms, but with a little
protesting gesture she stopped me.
“Please don’t be foolish, Warren!” Then
as she saw my spirits droop, she added, “Not
till Helen is Well,”


I ACCUSE ZALNITCH 145
dingy surroundings and for such a man as
Zalnitch.
I watched her as she worked and marveled
that any one could make her fingers go so
rapidly. I noticed with admiration and dis-
satisfaction, that unlike my stenographers,
she didn’t have to stop to erase a misspelled
word every two minutes. I wondered what
salary Zalnitch paid her and if she would like
to change employers.
“I hope you will pardon my interrupting
your work—” I began.
“You’re not,” the girl responded, without
even glancing up.
“May I ask if you are entirely satisfied
with your employment here?”
“Why do you ask?” she inquired, stopping
for a moment and fixing me with clear gray
eyeS.
“I am badly in need of a competent stenog-
rapher and I thought you might prefer work-
ing in a place where the surroundings are
pleasanter and the pay probably higher.”
She studied me a moment, as though card-








T ACCUSE ZALNITCH 147
to connect him definitely with the crime. I
think you can help me. Will you?”
“What makes you think I can help you?”
she asked.
“Because you are so situated you can ob-
serve the person I believe to be responsible
for the crime,” I replied.
Her gaze changed from pleasant question-
ing to indignant surprise. When she spoke
her voice was coldly final. -
“I think you have made a mistake in judg-
ment of character. Please let me finish my
Work now.”
“Miss Miller, please don’t think for a min-
ute that I—”
Behind me a door opened and, as I turned,
I found myself looking into the wrathful eyes
of a stunted little man with an enormous
head. Any one who has once seen Zalnitch
can never forget him. His wizened, mis-
shapen body is a grotesque caricature of a
man's, which, surmounted by his huge head
with its bushy hair, makes him look for all
the world like some scientist's experiment.


I ACCUSE ZALNITCH 149
You hear, Schreiber? He is going to—to ar-
rest me!”
Suddenly he stopped, as quickly as he had
started.
“Go ahead! Arrest me! Try to send me
to prison again. I'll make you sweat blood
before you are through. You think I killed
him—your brother? I wish I had. I’d be
proud to say I killed him! You hear? I
wish I had killed him. I wish he were alive
So I could kill him.”
The little monstrosity emphasized each of
his staccato sentences by stamping a puny
foot on the floor. His gloating over Jim's
death was more than flesh could stand.
“Stop!” I yelled. “If it wasn’t you that
killed him, it was one of that murderous
gang of cutthroats and anarchists that was
with you. If it wasn’t you, then it was
Schreiber's son—that Prussian jail-bird, or
One of his friends.”
Zalnitch’s eyes blazed. “You call us an-
archists and cutthroats. You, who are a
product of the rotten government that has


I ACCUSE ZALNITCH 151
but I thought Zalnitch would betray himself
in some way—must in some way show his
guilty knowledge of Jim's death. Instead,
he had laughed at me when I threatened to
arrest him, even wished he could claim the
credit for the crime.
I heard the pattering of feet and turned to
find Miss Miller behind me.
“Mr. Thompson.”
“Yes, Miss Miller.”
“A few moments ago you asked me to help
you discover who killed your brother-in-law.
For some reason you think Mr. Zalmitch had
something to do with it, and you wanted me
to give you any information I could about
him.”
“Yes,” I responded.
“When you made that proposal, I was very
angry because I resented your thinking I’d
spy on my employer. However, your suspi-
cions are so ridiculous I feel it is only fair to
tell you that you are wasting your time.”
“What makes you so sure that Zalnitch
had nothing to do with it, Miss Miller?”


154 32 CALIBER
ened him. Isn’t it only natural that I should
suspect him?”
Her look was entirely sympathetic as she
replied.
“I know how Mr. Felderson’s death must
have affected you, Mr. Thompson, and I do
want to help you. You say he had three
enemies; then I advise you to look for the
other two, for I am positive Mr. Zalnitch had
nothing to do with the murder.”
I thanked her and went down the rickety
stairs, believing somehow that she had told
me the truth. But if not Zalnitch, then who?
I knew that in less than a week, as soon as
Helen was well enough to stand the shock,
she would be indicted, unless in the mean-
time, I could discover the murderer. Helen
had regained consciousness the night before,
but was far too weak to undergo any ques-
tioning. My impatience at the delay, neces-
sary before she could tell the story of the
crime, had driven me, most foolishly, I now
realized, into trying to force Zalnitch to a
guilty admission of complicity.


I ACCUSE ZALNITCH 155
When I got hold of myself, I knew well
enough that the only sensible course was to
wait until Helen should be able to clear up
the mystery, so I went to the office and be-
gan the heavy task of putting Jim's effects
in order.


A DOUBLE INDICTMENT 157
our testimony as to Helen’s words would
stave off any indictment until Helen was well
enough to testify.
“But, Warren, the fact that she was delir-
ious will make it pretty shaky testimony,
won’t it?” Mary argued.
“Yes, that’s true. But I don’t think that
they will want to bring an indictment while
Helen is ill. You see, the indictment couldn’t
be served anyway, and I think our testimony
will convince them there's a reasonable doubt
as to Helen’s guilt.”
She seemed convinced until the gloomy
bulk of the court-house came in view, when
terror rushed back fourfold.
“Oh, Bupps, can’t I get out of it?”
“No, dear, it's got to be gone through with.
Remember it depends on you and me.”
“But what if they ask me Jim's and Helen's
conversation before they started for the
country-club?”
“Tell them as little as possible, but stick
to the truth. We know Helen’s innocent and
the truth can’t hurt her.”


158 32 CALIBER
We passed Inspector Robinson in the hall
down-stairs and the half Smile on his lips
irritated me. It was his report to the grand
jury that had stirred things up. He knew
only too well that with the sensational Sun
to back him, an indictment would be taken
by the public to mean proven guilt.
At the entrance to the anteroom we found
Wicks, his face drawn into lines of the most
acute misery.
“I couldn't 'elp it, sir. They made me
come.”
“I know it, Wicks. Don’t worry! It's a
mere formality,” I reassured him.
“I’ope so, sir, but I don’t like it.”
“None of us do, Wicks, but it can’t be
helped,” I replied. “Did Annie come with
you?”
“No, sir. Strange to say she wasn’t called,
Sir.”
Good! That helped our case some. Mary
and I walked into the anteroom to await our
turn. The coroner was already there. Wicks
had followed us and took a seat close by.


160 32 CALIBER
and he gave me a parting look, half awe, half
terror.
Robinson paced up and down, his short
stubby legs expressing confidence and satis-
faction. Every turn, he scrutinized Mary,
as if trying to place her in some criminal
category.
At last Wicks came out, perspiring as if
he'd been in a steam bath. Robinson looked
him over once, gave a snort of derision and
passed into the jury room. I wanted to ask
Wicks some questions, but the poor man fled
before I could attract his notice.
Mary got up and walked over to the big
windows where a flood of warm September
sunlight poured into the room. For a mo-
ment she stood gazing down on the crowded
square below, then suddenly turned and half
Sobbed:
“Bupps, I can’t stand it! I may say some-
thing that will hurt Helen.”
Great sobs shook her slender body. I went
over and clumsily tried to comfort her.
“Mary, dear, Helen didn’t do it. When she


A DOUBLE INDICTMENT 161
is well enough, we’ll be able to find out all
about it. Even if they do bring an indict-
ment, Helen can prove her innocence.”
The sobs diminished to sniffles, and then to
occasional sighs. She opened her bag, ex-
tracted a miniature powder-puff and dabbed
at her small upturned nose spitefully. I
knew that the storm had passed.
“I know—that—that I’m foolish to c-cry,
but I just c-couldn't help it.”
A clerk opened the door and called Mary’s
name. She gave me a startled glance and
her face blanched. I thought she was going
to break down again, but suddenly I saw her
raise her chin defiantly and an angry sparkle
come to her eyes. She snapped shut her
vanity-bag and marched toward the jury
room like a soldier, sentenced to be shot, yet
determined to die bravely.
It was only after she had left that I began
to think about my own testimony. After all,
the evidence was terrifyingly strong against
Helen. She had threatened to kill Jim. She
had quarreled with him just before their last


162 32 CALIBER
ride, had chosen the back seat purposely, had
Jim's revolver with her, and knew she was
being taken to see her lover humiliated and
threatened. Against all this, I had only a
brother’s faith in his sister and those half
dozen words cried out in a delirium. A sick-
ening certainty that they would indict Helen
came over me. What if she did—? What
if she should confess?
In some way I had to save Helen if only for
mother’s sake. After all, Woods, too, had
threatened Jim. He knew Jim had proof of
his dishonesty. He had made the engage-
ment and had asked Jim to come alone. At
this point of my review of the facts I de-
cided to tell the jury all. If Woods was at
the country-club the entire evening he would
be able to establish a complete alibi and my
testimony would not hurt him, while it might
be enough, if I could make it so, to hold the
jury until Helen could testify. Hearing steps
outside, I turned to see the object of my
mental attentions walk into the room.
“You here, Woods?” I queried.


A DOUBLE INDICTMENT 163
“Yes. Those admirable servants of your
sister's gave the police just enough of the
vulgar details of that meeting between Fel-
derson and myself to make them think I–
well, they ordered me to report and here I
am.”
He looked Worried and irritable. For the
first time I realized what the man must have
gone through during the last few days, with
his business troubles and Helen’s injury.
How he had met his obligations without Hel-
en’s money, I didn’t know.
“I should have thought you’d have been
glad to testify to save Helen from an indict-
ment.”
Woods Whirled around. “You don’t mean
to say there’s a chance of that, Thompson?
Why, she didn’t do it, she couldn’t have done
it. She—she isn’t capable of doing such a
thing. It's monstrous. I’ve read the rot that
The Sun has been printing, but I didn’t think
—I can’t think any one would take it seri-
ously.” A gray Shadow seemed to fall across
his face.


164 32 CALIBER
“Felderson was shot from behind and Helen
was the only one with him,” I threw out,
watching Woods closely to see what effect my
words would have on him. The man looked
as though he knew more about the crime than
I had supposed.
“I know that! But haven’t people sense
enough to see that Helen is utterly incapable
of such an act. Good God, they must be
blind I’’
I was brought back to the business on hand
by hearing my name shouted. They must
have let Mary out by another door for when
I entered the jury room she was not there.
It was hot and stuffy, smelling of stale to-
bacco and staler clothing. I noticed that the
jurymen seemed deeply interested and that
they were, for the most part, a rather intelli-
gent lot. The foreman, a near-sighted
business-looking person, seemed to radiate
sympathy through his glasses. The district
attorney, Kirkpatrick, knew Jim well, had his
help often and was one of his best friends.
“What is your name?” he asked.


A DOUBLE INDICTMENT 165
“Warren Thompson.”
“Your address?”
“Eleven thirty-two Grant Avenue.”
“Your business?”
“I am a lawyer,” I responded.
The district attorney seated himself at a
table and arranged some papers before him.
“You were what relation to the deceased?”
“The brother-in-law,” I replied.
“Mr. Thompson,” the attorney began, lean-
ing on the table in front of him, “will you
please tell the jury if there was any unhappi-
ness in the married life of your sister and
brother-in-law?”
“Until recently Mr. and Mrs. Felderson
were very happy together. During the last
three months their happiness has not been
quite—so pronounced.”
“What was the cause of their disagree-
ment?”
I determined to begin my attack on Woods
at once.
“A man whom Mr. Felderson disliked and
did not wish to come to the house.”


166 32 CALIBER
“Can you tell the jury that man's name?”
“Frank WOOdS.”
The attorney glanced at his notes.
“Did this man Woods make love to Mrs.
FelderSOn?”
“I couldn’t say. He was very attentive to
her.”
“Did Mrs. Felderson ask her husband to
divorce her?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“And Mr. Felderson refused?”
“No. Mr. Felderson consented.”
“You are sure of that?” he demanded.
“Yes. I was present when he said he would
give her a divorce.”
“Was Woods there at the time?”
“Yes.”
The foreman of the jury interrupted here.
“Will you tell the jury just what took
place at that meeting?”
I told them briefly what happened, not for-
getting to mention that Woods had threat-
ened Jim's life in case he did not let Helen
gO,


A DOUBLE INDICTMENT 167
“Has that man been summoned?” asked
the foreman.
“Yes. He is waiting to appear now,” a
clerk responded.
“Mr. Thompson, did you hear your sister
threaten to kill her husband?” Kirkpatrick
asked.
“My sister was very excited at that time
and said several things—”
“Please answer my question!” fired the dis-
trict attorney.
“I can’t remember,” I replied.
Kirkpatrick again consulted his papers.
“A witness says that on the evening of the
disagreement between Mr. and Mrs. Felder-
son, she used the words: “I could kill him,”
referring to her husband. Did you hear her
use those Words?”
“I don’t think She realized What she was
saying.”
“I did not ask for your opinions. Did you
hear her say she could kill him or that she
would like to kill him?”
“Yes,”


168 32 CALIBER
The attorney seemed satisfied and I no-
ticed the foreman of the jury lean back in
his chair.
“Now, Mr. Thompson,” Kirkpatrick began,
“on the evening of the tragedy did you see
Mrs. Felderson leave with Mr. Felderson?”
“No,” I replied.
“Do you know if she was sitting in the
back seat or the front seat of that automo-
bile?” he asked.
“I couldn’t say.”
Kirkpatrick took Jim's revolver from the
table.
“Is this revolver familiar to you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Mr. Felderson have a revolver like
this?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
“Do you know whether he was carrying it
at the time of the tragedy?”
“I’m not sure,” I stated.
“Did Mr. Felderson usually carry a gun?”
“No.”
“Did Mrs. Felderson have a revolver?”


170 32 CALIBER
had made an important discovery about Mr.
Woods’ past life.”
“Was this discovery of such a nature as to
cause Mr. Felderson to refuse a divorce?”
“It Was!” I answered.
“Can you tell the jury what this discovery
WaS 2”
“No, I can not.”
“Did Mr. Woods know that Mr. Felderson
had made this discovery?”
“I think he did.”
“Aren’t you certain?”
“No.”
“This is important, Mr. Thompson. Will
you tell the jury why you think Mr. Woods
knew of Mr. Felderson's discovery?”
“Because Mr. Woods called Mr. Felderson
up shortly after the discovery was made and
asked for an interview at the country-club.”
“Was Mr. Felderson on his way to that
meeting when he met his death?” the attor-
ney queried.
“Yes,” I responded.
“Do you know whether Mr. Felderson


A DOUBLE INDICTMENT 171
intended to inform Woods that he would not
divorce Mrs. Felderson?”
“I think he intended to accuse Woods of
dishonesty,” I replied.
“Mrs. Felderson knew the purpose of the
meeting, did she not?”
“I couldn’t say.”
Kirkpatrick turned to the jury.
“Has the jury any questions they wish to
aSk?”
I seized my opportunity.
“I would like to say a few words with the
permission of the jury.”
Receiving a nod of consent, I related to
them as briefly as possible my conviction of
my sister's innocence, her cry of danger to
her husband, and the coincidence of the black
limousine on the road at about the same
time as the tragedy. I also told of the
enmity of Zalnitch for Jim and of his pres-
ence with the others in the black limousine.
The foreman of the jury leaned forward.
“Will you repeat the Words that your sister
uttered?”


172 32 CALIBER
“She cried, ‘Look out, Jim | It's going to
hit us!’”
“Your sister was delirious at the time, was
She not?”
“Yes,” I answered. “But from the tone
of her voice I feel perfectly sure she referred
to something that occurred on the night of
the tragedy.”
“You think she referred to the black
limousine when she said, ‘It’s going to hit
us’?” the foreman continued.
“Yes.”
“Yet the coroner's verdict was that your
brother-in-law was killed by a bullet, fired,
apparently, from behind and above.”
I felt the weakness of my ground.
“The bullet might have been fired from the
automobile and ricochetted from some part
of Mr. Felderson’s machine.”
I saw the incredible smile that played on
the face of the prosecutor.
“That will do, Mr. Thompson,” Kirkpatrick
announced, and I passed out of the stuffy
room into the corridor. Wicks had returned


CHAPTER TWELVE
WHO AM I
JUMPED into the automobile and drove
as fast as I could to the offices of Simpson
and Todd, the best criminal lawyers in the
state, to retain them as council for Helen.
Simpson had already gone home, but George
Todd was there, and I talked the case over
With him.
“You can get a stay of proceedings, can’t
you?” I asked. -
“Surely,” he replied. “I’ll see that the
warrant isn’t served until Mrs. Felderson’s
doctor assures me she is out of danger. The
trial needn't come off for three or four
months—six if you wish. We can see to
that. In the meantime, when will you be
able to see Mrs. Felderson?”
“I was going up there now,” I answered.
“The chances are the doctor Won’t let me
question her yet, but it may be we can see
her. Will you come with me?”
175


WHO AM I 177
let you bother her with any infernal ques-
tions until she is well.”
The week passed only too slowly. Each
day I went to the hospital and sat for a brief
fifteen or twenty minutes by Helen’s side.
She was fully conscious and I thought I could
See at times that there were questions she
wanted to ask me. Remembering the doc-
tor's emphatic instructions, I said very little,
never asking any questions, only telling her
a few of the unimportant happenings of the
town. She seemed uninterested and lay
apathetically quiescent except when some
apparently perplexing question corrugated
her brows. They told her of Jim’s death
early in the week, but far from being
shocked, she had appeared almost indifferent,
showing only too plainly how little he meant
in her life. Woods she never referred to.
Mary, of course, was her devoted slave,
hardly leaving her bedside, and in our daily
meetings at the hospital, I fell more and more
in love with her, if such a thing were


178 32 CALIBER
possible. Once when I was coming up the
corridor with a large bunch of flowers, I met
her outside Helen's door. As she took the
blooms from me, she reached up and patted
my cheek.
“Bupps, you're a darling to bring these
lovely flowers to Helen every day. I think
you're quite the nicest brother a girl could
have.”
“If you think that, why won’t you have
me?” I asked.
“I think I will—” she answered, smiling,
“for a brother.”
She started to open the door, but I grasped
her hand.
“Mary, do be serious! You know I love
you.”
She haughtily drew herself up in all the
majesty of her five feet three inches and
commanded: “Unhand me, villain! I spurn
your tempting offer.” Then earnestly, “Let
me go, Bupps! I’ve got to put these flowers
away.”
With a quick wrench she freed herself and


180 32 CALIBER
to respond to your questions as you expect.
Above all things, do not refer in any way to
the fact that she has been indicted, the shock
might be too much for her.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I replied, eager to
get away, “I’ll be very careful.”
“And remember, no more than ten minutes
this first time.”
I nodded and opened the door. Helen was
propped up in bed and showed unmistakably
the great suffering she had been through.
She was pale and wan, but smiled when she
saw me and gave me her cheek to kiss.
“Good morning,” she whispered. “The
flowers were lovely.”
“I’m glad you liked them, Sis, dear,” I said,
sitting down by the side of her bed.
I asked her the usual questions, how she
felt and if she wanted anything, and then
tried to lead up to the only question that was
of any consequence to either of us.
“Helen, dear, there are certain questions
about your accident that have puzzled us.
The doctor said that you could talk for ten


WHO AM I 181
minutes this morning and I want to ask you
some questions.”
“Wait a minute!” she interrupted. “Did
the doctor say I might really talk this
morning?”
“Yes, dear.”
“There are a hundred questions then that
you must answer me. I want to know so
many things.” She looked away and passed
a thin hand over her forehead. Finally she
turned her big brown eyes toward me and
said:
“First, tell me who I am!”
For a brief second I felt numb all through.
My brain whirled until I thought my head
would burst.
“Helen, dear, what did you say?”
My speech was thick, as though my tongue
was swollen. Still keeping her gaze fixed on
me, she continued:
“They call me Helen, and I gather that you
are my brother. There is a beautiful girl
who comes here every day. She and I seem
to be great friends, but I don’t know her,


182 32 CALIBER
I have heard them call her Mary; tell me who
she is!”
If I could have run from the room I should
have done so. A horror gripped me such as
I never felt before. Then I saw two large
tears tremble in Helen's eyes, overflow and
course down her cheeks and I gathered all
the strength that I could muster for the task
of trying to awaken a memory that had
apparently ceased to function.
“Helen, dearest little sister, I am your
brother. The beautiful girl you speak of is
Mary Pendleton, one of the best and truest
friends you ever had. She was your brides-
maid, don’t you remember?”
Helen shook her head weakly.
“I have been married, then?” she asked.
“You were married to James Felderson.
Can’t you remember him?” I begged.
Again she shook her head. “No. It’s all
gone.” She thought hard a minute, then she
asked: “He is dead—my husband?”
“Yes,” I muttered, trying to keep the tears
back, “he was killed in the same accident—”


184 32 CALIBER
“Her memory is completely gone!” I
gasped.
The doctor patted me on the shoulder
sympathetically.
“We suspected that day before yesterday.
I would have told you before, but thought
that your questions might start her memory
functioning.”
I gripped him by both arms. “But,
Doctor, can nothing be done? Will she have
to—have to begin all over again?”
“I can’t say yet. There may be some
pressure there still. We'll have to wait until
She is much stronger before we can tell.”


CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WE PLAN THE DEFENSE
ELEN'S loss of memory was the last
straw. The shock of finding her unable
to remember the most familiar things was
bad enough from a purely physical stand-
point, but when I realized how completely it
swept away all my plans for Helen’s defense,
how it fastened the guilt on her poor
shoulders, I felt that our case was hopeless
indeed.
I drove to the offices of Simpson and Todd
and was lucky enough to find both of them
in. Simpson, a slender man with steel-gray
hair and eyes, at once ordered a closed
session to thrash out the whole affair. He
first made me repeat everything I knew about
Jim’s murder, from the beginning. Several
times he interrupted me, to ask a question,
but for the most part he sat with his back to
me, gazing out of the window, the tips of his
fingers to his lips. Half the time I thought
185


186 32 CALIBER
he wasn’t listening, until a quick question
would show his interest. Todd, on the con-
trary, was the picture of attention. He took
notes in shorthand most of the time I was
talking. When I had finished, Simpson rose
and came over to me.
“Let’s examine this thing from the start.
You have three people who had a motive for
killing Felderson—Zalnitch, Woods and Mrs.
Felderson. Let's take Zalnitch first, for I
think suspicion falls the slightest on him.
You say that Felderson helped to convict Zal-
nitch in the Yellow Pier case and that he
made vague threats against those who had
put him in prison, after he was released.
Good! There's a motive and a threat. He
was seen on the same road that Mr. Felderson
traveled, a short time before the murder. All
those facts point to Zalnitch’s complicity.
But—the bullet that killed Felderson was
fired from behind and above, according to the
coroner's statement. Knowing the average
juryman, I should say that we would have to
stretch things pretty far to make him believe


WE PLAN THE DEFENSE 187
that a shot fired from one rapidly moving
automobile at another rapidly moving auto-
mobile would ricochet and kill a man. That’s
asking a little too much. Also, it is hard to
believe that Schreiber, who was driving the
car, would risk a smash-up to his own car
and possible death for himself and party, in
order to try to make Felderson go into the
ditch. Then, too, if Zalnitch recognized
Felderson’s car, why didn’t he fire point-
blank at Felderson instead of waiting till he
got past? No! The case against Zalnitch
falls down. We can strike him off the list.”
I hated to give him up, but I had to admit
Simpson's logic was faultless.
“Now let us take up the case of Woods.
Here is a man who threatened Felderson’s
life unless he gave his wife a divorce, which
you say Felderson did not intend to do. There,
again, is a motive. Woods knew that Felder-
son was in possession of certain papers that
would ruin him. There is a stronger motive.”
He turned to me. “By the way, you have
those papers, haven’t you?”


188 32 CALIBER
I hadn’t thought of them until that very
minute.
“I don’t know where they are right now,
but I'm pretty sure I can find them.”
He nodded.
“Get hold of them by all means! They
may be important to us.” He lit a cigar and
threw himself into a chair.
“Well, let's go on. Woods had all the mo-
tive necessary for killing Felderson. He made
a definite engagement with Felderson on the
night of the murder, to meet him at a certain
time and place specified by Woods. That's
important. Everything up to that point is
as clear as crystal, yet you say you have pos-
itive testimony that Woods was at the coun-
try-club waiting for Felderson at about the
time the murder took place, and Woods
claims that he has an absolute alibi. If that
is true, it lets him out.”
“But I’m not sure he was at the country-
club at the time the murder took place,” I
explained. “I only know he was there just
before and just afterward.”


190 32 CALIBER
“He might have used somebody else's
car,” Todd suggested.
Simpson shook his head again. “We’re
getting clear off the track, now.”
An idea came to me suddenly and I called
up Pickering at the Benefit Insurance Com-
pany.
“This is Thompson speaking, Pickering,” I
Said.
“Yes.”
“Do you remember if an automobile passed
you on the night of the Felderson murder,
going toward the country-club?”
“No.”
“Do you mean you don’t remember?”
“No, I remember perfectly. There was
only one automobile passed us and that was
the black limousine.”
“You’re Sure?” I asked.
“I’m positive, old man. We only saw one
car from the time we left Blandesville, until
we reached the city.”
I put up the receiver and sank back in my
chair.


WE PLAN THE DEFENSE 191
“Well?” Todd flung at me.
“I’m out of luck!” I responded.
Simpson rose. “Let’s “go on. We have
crossed off two of our suspects from the list,
let's see—”
“I’d rather not go on,” I interrupted, look-
ing out of the window to escape Todd's
searching eyes. There was a moment's si-
lence, then Simpson spoke.
“We’ll do our best but it will be a hard
fight. If Mrs. Felderson could only recall
what happened that night and before, we
might have a chance, but every woman that
has come up for murder during the last few
years, has worked that lost memory gag.”
“But my sister really has lost her mem-
Ory!” I exclaimed.
“I know, my dear boy,” Simpson soothed.
“That is What makes it so difficult. If She
were only shamming now, we could–. But
with your sister as helpless as a child, the
prosecuting attorney will so confuse her, that
our case will be lost as soon as she takes the
stand.”


192 32 CALIBER
“Why put her on at all?” I asked.
“Because we have to, if we hope to win our
case,” he replied. “The one big chance to
win your jury comes when your beautiful
client testifies.”
For a few minutes he was silent, obviously
thinking, and thinking hard.
“Of course, our defense will have to be
temporary insanity,” he declared at last.
“Oh, not that!” I begged.
“It’s our only chance,” Simpson argued,
“and I don’t mind saying that it's a pretty
poor chance at that. Three years ago it
might have been all right, because a convic-
tion only meant a few months at a fashion-
able sanitarium, and then freedom. But when
that Truesdale woman went free, an awful
howl went up all over the country and I’m
afraid the next woman who is found, guilty
but insane, will be sent to a real asylum.”
A shudder of horror ran through me. For
Helen to be sent to an asylum while her
mind was in its weak state might well mean
permanent insanity.


196 32 CALIBER
cence, I forgot to speculate on who could have
committed the murder. My second thought
was really a continuation of the first, that I
must bring the coroner and Simpson at once
to confirm my discovery.
I carefully locked the door of the garage,
as though fearful some one would rob me of
my find, or that the automobile might move
away of its own volition, then I ran to the
house and rang the bell. All the curtains
were drawn and I had about decided there
was no one at home, when, after what seemed
an interminable wait, I heard the sound of
footsteps within, and Wicks opened the door.
“Who’d you expect to see, Wicks, a police-
man?” I asked.
“No, sir. One of those blarsted reporters,
Sir.”
“Poor old Wicksy,” I sympathized. “Well,
it'll soon be over now. I want to use the tele-
phone.” -
I ran down the hall to the table where I
knew the telephone to be, and called up Simp-
son. He promised he would come right up.


BULLET PROOF 197
The coroner demurred for a moment, plead-
ing important business, but when he heard
I had proof that would clear Mrs. Felderson,
he, too, promised to be with me in a few
minutes.
Wicks, who had been listening, was so ex-
cited that he momentarily forgot himself and
clutched me by the arm as I put down the
receiver.
“Is it true, sir, that you can prove Mrs.
Felderson 'ad nothing to do with it?” he
gasped.
“Truest thing you know, Wicks!”
“I fear I’m going to act unseemly, sir. I
feel like yelling, 'ip, ’ip, sir.” Then he no-
ticed he had me by the arm and hastily mur-
mured apology.
“That's all right, Wicksy, old top. Go as
far as you like,” I cried. “I’m so happy and
relieved I could kiss the Kaiser.”
“You surely wouldn’t do that, sir,” Wicks
reproved.
“All right, Wicks. I guess it's not being
done this year.”


198 32 CALIBER
The butler turned to leave but stopped at
the door to say: “Mr. Woods called about a
week ago, sir.”
“What did he want?” I demanded.
“He stated as 'ow 'e was after some papers
concerning a business deal that 'e and Mr.
Felderson were interested in.”
In the excitement over my discovery, I
had completely forgotten the real errand that
had brought me to the house.
“What did you tell him, Wicks?”
“I told 'im that you had charge of all Mr.
Felderson’s effects, sir, and that he could
probably obtain them from you,” the butler
replied.
“That was right. Did he leave after that?”
“Shortly after that, sir,” Wicks answered.
“But first he asked for the key to the garage,
sayin’ that 'e would like to hinspect the auto.”
“Did you give it to him?” I snapped.
“Y-yes, sir. I saw no 'arm in that, sir.”
I ran to the garage and quickly searched
the broad pockets of Jim's car. The port-
folio was not there. I hurried toward the


200 32 CALIBER
While we were talking the coroner drove
up. He took the bullet I had extracted from
the back of the car and looked at it as though
he expected to find its owner's name etched
on it, after which he examined the holes in
the back of the car and in the foot-board.
Then I eagerly related our suspicions against
Zalnitch, but he shook his head.
“This would seem to clear Mrs. Felderson
but it also makes it look as though every
other suspect is innocent. Look at these
holes in the floor! The bullets that lodged
there must have been fired from above. Also
you will notice there are three bullet holes in
the back of the car and two in the foot-board,
besides the shot that killed Mr. Felderson.
Unless your friends, the Socialists, were car-
rying a young armory with them, they could
never have fired that many shots in the short
Space of time that it took Mr. Felderson to
pass them. I should say that it would take a
man from—well, from fifteen to thirty sec-
onds, at least, to fire six shots at any target,


BULLET PROOF 201
and before that time, the automobile would
have been out of range.”
“He might have used an automatic rifle,” I
interposed.
The coroner took off his hat and rubbed
the bald spot on the back of his head.
“That is possible,” he admitted, “but it
doesn’t explain how those bullet holes got
into the floor. There might have been a
struggle and the gun discharged into the floor
that way.”
“That doesn’t explain the holes in the back
of the car,” I objected, fearing that they
would again go back to the theory that Helen
was responsible.
“The holes in the foot-board seem to me
positive proof that the shots were fired from
above,” Simpson argued. “Are there any
buildings or trees along that road where the
murderer might have stationed himself and
waited for Felderson to come along?”
“There are no buildings,” I replied, “but
there must be trees in the vicinity of that
stream.”


BULLET PROOF 203
money, and if I had I wouldn’t give it to
him.”
After they had left, I decided to go out to
the Blandesville bridge and do a little prelim-
inary Scouting on my own. Eager for Mary’s
company, and wishing to tell her the glorious
news that was to clear Helen, I drove to the
hospital, only to find that Mary had not been
there and Helen was asleep; so I drove on to
Mary’s, hoping to find her home.
“Miss Pendleton is just going out, but I
will ask if she will see you,” the maid in-
formed me.
I stepped into the living-room and picked
up a magazine. As I took it in my hand it
fell open to a story entitled, “Who Murdered
Merryvale?” I looked at one of the illustra-
tions and quickly laid the magazine down,
conscious that I’d never again read a mystery
story built around a tragic death. Then I
heard Mary’s light step pattering down the
stairs and turned to greet her. She was
dressed in a smart, semi-military costume
which she had worn while a volunteer chauf-


204 32 CALIBER
feur during the war, and she looked simply
radiant.
“Mary, we’ve made certain discoveries
which absolutely clear Helen of suspicion,”
I cried, taking her hands in mine. I told her
of my find of the morning, and watched her
eyes widen with joy and surprise. “So, while
we haven’t found out yet who murdered Jim,
we know that Helen had no part in it.”
Mary was thinking hard about something,
but she recalled herself quickly, and said:
“Oh! It's wonderful, Bupps, simply won-
derful!”
“I’m going out to the Blandesville bridge
to do a little sleuthing on my own hook. Can
you come with me?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t, Warren. I have
another engagement,” she answered.
“Some other man?” I asked, disappointed
and a bit jealous.
“Yes.”
“Is it that young Davis?”
She shook her head.
“It’s some one you don’t like very well.”


BULLET PROOF 205
“That's natural,” I replied. “I don’t love
any of my rivals. Who is it?”
“Promise you won’t say anything if I tell
you who it is?”
“Of course I won’t say anything,” I said a
little haughtily. “You have a perfect right
to go with any one you care to.”
“It’S Frank WOOdS.” -
“Mary,” I gasped, “do you mean to say
you’d be seen with that man, after what he
did to Jim 2”
“Now, Bupps, you promised not to say any-
thing.”
“I know—but this is different. Do you
think I’ll stand quietly by and see that man
make a fool of you as he did of Helen? Do
you think I’ll let that—that rake make love
to you?”
“He's not going to make love to me!” Mary
answered with some asperity.
“That's what you think. That's what Helen
thought and Jim thought. That’s what all
of them think when he starts. Do you know
What he wants to do? He asked you to go


206 32 CALIBER
out with him so he could try to borrow
money of you, to save his rotten hide.”
“But, Bupps, he didn’t ask me to go riding
with him. I asked him to take me.”
“You asked him to take you?” I cried.
“Don’t talk so loud, Bupps! The people on
the street will hear you.”
If there was anything she could have said
that would have made me angrier than I al-
ready was, it was that.
“I’m not talking loud,” I shouted, “and
what if I do? The people on the street may
hear me, but they will see you with Frank
Woods, which is a hundred times worse. Why,
it is as much as a girl’s reputation is worth
to be seen alone with him.”
“I’ll take care of my reputation,” she re-
plied coldly.
“You think you will,” I said, flinging my-
self into a chair.
“Warren! Do you know that's insulting?”
Mary exclaimed angrily. “You’re acting
like a schoolboy. I have good reasons for
wanting to go out with Frank Woods.”


210 32 CALIBER
ing down to the bridge, our eyes at once
caught sight of a tall maple tree, on the right-
hand side of the road and about two hundred
yards from it.
As he saw it the coroner gave a grunt of
satisfaction.
“There’s our tree.”
We stopped the car and scrambled through
the thorny bushes that lined the road. The
ground was hard clay with only burdock and
weeds growing on it. There was nothing
that would lead us to believe that any one had
been there before. When we reached the
tree, the coroner examined the ground
around it carefully. When he arose he
seemed disappointed.
“What did you expect to find here?” I
asked.
“I didn’t know what we might find. If
the man who fired those shots used this tree,
I thought we might find an empty cartridge
or two. There ought to be at least some
broken twigs or something to show that he
was up there, but I find nothing at all.”


THE ANSWER 211
“Still, the fact that the tree is where it is,
makes the theory plausible.”
He shook his head. “No. NOW that I’ve
seen how far we are from the road I don’t
think it does. Those bullet holes in the back
of the car were fired from above and behind
the machine. They slanted down but not
sidewise. If a tree had been at the very
side of the road, our theory would be accept-
able, but if the murderer used this tree, two
hundred yards from the road, he would have
started firing before the car came opposite,
with the probability that the holes would
have been found in the side of the car. I’m
sorry, for when I saw this tree, I thought
We’d struck the right track.”
“There’s one thing I can’t make out,” I
stated, “and that is the strange cry of my
sister in her delirium. ‘Look out, Jim | It's
going to hit us,” she called out, and I would
be willing to swear it had something to do
With the murder.”
The coroner thought a moment, then
turned to me.


212 32 CALIBER
“What else did she say?”
“Nothing that seemed to refer to the acci-
dent. All the rest was apparently delirium.
She begged forgiveness for some fancied
wrong, and repeated that a certain man was
not guilty of dishonesty. But her first weird
cry had to do with the murder, I'm sure.”
We walked back toward the road together.
High overhead we heard the droning of an
aeroplane and we both stopped to gaze at it.
Suddenly the coroner clapped me on the
shoulder.
“I’ve got it!”
“What do you mean?” I asked, bewildered.
“An aeroplane, man! Who owns an
aeroplane around here?”
“I don’t know. There are several at the
aviation grounds. What's that got to do
With it?”
“Everything! Don't you see? The bullets
fired from above and behind. The number
of bullets fired. Those two bullet holes in
the foot-board of the car—everything points
to an aeroplane. It was done a hundred, yes,


THE ANSWER 213
a thousand times in the war. While I was
over there with my hospital unit we used to
get a lot of cases of motorcycle despatch
riders who had been picked off by German
aviators. They machine-gunned moving
trains and military automobiles. It is one
of the simplest tricks of a pilot's repertoire.
Has Woods an aeroplane?”
“He was a military pilot in the French
army and is the head of an aeroplane firm,
but I don’t think he has an aeroplane here.”
“He could get one easy enough.”
“The clever devil! Look over there! He
had the broad sweep of the golf course as a
perfect landing ground and this road hasn’t
a tree on it for a mile. He could have come
down within fifty feet of the ground and
followed that car, pumping bullets into it all
the way. He had absolutely everything in
his favor.”
For a moment I saw red as I pictured Jim,
helpless before approaching death. I could
imagine Helen’s agony as she saw that dim
black shape come closer and closer and


218 32 CALIBER
I handed him a bill and went into the bar.
Grogan, the old bartender was there alone.
“Grogan, do you remember who was in the
bar between seven-thirty and eight-thirty on
the night of the Felderson murder?”
“Only one or two of the gentlemen, sir.
There Was Mr. Farnsworth and Mr. Brown
and I think Mr. Woods.”
“Are you sure Mr. Woods was in here?”
“Well, no, sir, not exactly. I remember Mr.
Farnsworth and Mr. Brown. There were
probably some others. The reason I think Mr.
Woods was here was because he called my
attention to the fact a few nights after the
murder. There were a few gentlemen in here
and they were talking of Mr. Felderson’s
death. Mr. Woods said, in view of the fact
that the murderer hadn’t been found, almost
any one might be accused. Some one asked
him if he was worried—we all knew, sir, that
Mr. Felderson and Mr. Woods were not very
friendly—and Mr. Woods laughed and said
that fortunately he had a perfect alibi and
called my attention to the fact that he was in


CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE MECHANICLAN
66 E’VE got it! We're on the trail at
last!” I exclaimed. “I just found out
at the club that Woods left his dinner hur-
riedly and was not seen again until twenty-
five minutes past eight.”
“We’ve got to go slow,” cautioned the coro-
ner. “A man who is ingenious enough to de-
vise this means of murdering a man won’t be
tripped up for lack of a perfect alibi.”
“I’ve found what that is too. He has the
bartender at the club half believing that he
was in the bar at the time the murder was
committed.” I told him briefly what I had
discovered.
“See!” the coroner pointed out. “If they
bring him into court, the bartender won’t be
able to swear he wasn’t in the bar and the
short time that he was absent will convince
the jury that Woods is telling the truth and
that our theory is all bunk.”
220


222 32 CALIBER
now, for I know Woods is taking a certain
young lady automobiling this afternoon.”
“Let’s go quickly then,” exclaimed the
COrOner.
We climbed into the car and sped toward
the city. Since Eastbrook is on the aerial
postal route, we have a well-equipped aviation
field just outside the city. Several of our
younger set with special sporting proclivities
have taken up aerial joy-riding since the war,
so that there is always a group of mecha-
nicians and hangers-on around the field.
I proposed to the coroner that we stop for
Simpson and he agreed. When Simpson
heard who it was he came down at once. As
we sped toward the aerodrome I told him of
our findings of the afternoon. He was
astounded.
“You know, I'll hand it to the man who
thought up that scheme. That's the clever-
est piece of work I ever heard of, if your
theories are correct and he really did do it.”
“What makes you think Woods didn’t do
it?” I questioned.


224 32 CALIBER
“Don’t be too sure of that!” Simpson
warned. “The man who thinks up such a
scientific way of murdering people isn’t going
to be an easy man to catch.”
Memories of big whole-hearted Jim came
to my mind and I swore I would get Woods if
I had to hang for it. Woods—murderer of
Jim, after stealing his wife away, and now
making love to Mary Pendleton, putting his
bloody hands on her! The thought almost
drove me mad.
We stopped our machine at the entrance to
the field and walked toward the hangars.
Three aeroplanes were out, being tuned up.
They looked like birds, ready to take wing at
the slightest disturbance. The coroner
walked over to one of the helpers.
“Can you direct me to the hangar Mr.
Frank Woods uses?”
“Woods?” the man repeated with a puzzled
frown. “I don’t remember any such machine
here. I know most of 'em, but I don’t think
any Woods has a machine here. Wait! I'll
ask Bill. He'd know if any one did.”


THE MECHANICIAN 225
He walked over to a group of mecha-
nicians and returned in a moment.
“It’s the last one down. He ain’t had a
machine here only two weeks. That’s the
reason I didn’t know the name.”
We thanked him and started for the other
end of the field. A pilot climbed into one of
the machines. Two mechanicians spun the
propeller and the engine sputtered and
roared. The plane wabbled and swayed
drunkenly out on to the field, then as the roar
increased, it gathered speed and was off.
At the door of the Woods hangar, a red-
haired mechanic of powerful build was
cleaning and oiling some delicate-looking
piece of mechanism. He looked up with a
questioning frown as we approached, then
became engrossed again in his work.
“Is this where Mr. Woods keeps his
aeroplane?” the coroner asked.
“Un-hu,” grunted the mechanician, contin-
uing with his work.
“Mr. Woods isn’t here, is he?”
“No,” was the laconic reply.


228 32 CALIBER
along the earth itself at terrific speed.
Finally it nosed up, touched the earth,
bounced away as though it were a rubber
ball, touched again, and at last came to a
stop within a hundred yards of where we
were standing.
A girl climbed from it, and with a sicken-
ing clutch at my heart I recognized who it
was. Mary had been aeroplaning with
Woods instead of automobiling as I had sup-
posed. At the sight of her, laughing gaily
at some witticism that Woods made as they
walked across the field toward us, my head
spun with hatred and jealousy of the man.
I had no time to observe more, for there
were angry shouts within the hangar and the
coroner came bounding out, with the red-
haired mechanician close behind him. The
coroner had in his hand what looked like an
iron crow-bar, and as the mechanician caught
him, this bar became the center of the
struggle. We hurried to the coroner's aid,
but before we could reach him, the mecha-
nician gave him a vicious kick in the stomach


THE MECHANICIAN 229
that sent him sprawling and helpless. With
a curse, the mechanic picked up the tool they
had been struggling for and dashed back into
the hangar.
The coroner lay writhing where he had
fallen, and could not speak. His breath was
completely knocked out. We pumped his
arms until at last he was able to gasp: “Get
that—! Get that p”
“It looks as though you had a little dis-
agreement here,” a laughing voice sounded
behind us. “This isn’t at all my idea of a
hospitable reception for my guests.”
We all turned to look into the Smiling face
of Woods. As we helped the coroner to his
feet and began brushing him off Woods con-
tinued: “Gentlemen, if you are going to
present me with the key to the city, please
make it as unostentatious as possible.” His
Smile still continued, but there was an odd
glint in his eyes. Mary had left his side and
was walking away. She had evidently seen
me and did not want to speak to me.
The coroner cleared his throat. “Mr.


THE MECHANICIAN 233
Suddenly Simpson clutched my arm and
yelled: “Look out! he’s trying to run us
down.” -
I ran wildly to one side of the field, not
daring to look back but only trying to reach
a place of safety. The sound of the engines
came crashing to my ears like the staccato
roar of a hundred machine guns. My legs
felt as if they were lead. I seemed to be
standing still. One frightened glance over
my shoulder showed the machine, like some
monstrous vulture, bearing down on me. I
could feel it gaining and gaining. The heavy
drone of the engines seemed to fill the air
with its noise. A pitiful sense of helpless-
ness gripped me. I knew I was going to die
like a rat in the jaws of a fox terrior. I
screamed aloud in my terror and pitched
headlong on the turf. With a roar, and a
rush of wind that almost lifted me from the
ground, the aeroplane passed over me, its
wheels no more than four feet from my head.
I am not sure to this day, whether Frank
Woods tried to kill me or not. I don’t know


*
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RED CAPITULATES
E HURRIED Over to the Smashed
plane, the coroner leading. Woods, in
his effort to run me down, had forgotten the
telegraph wires at the end of the field. Too
late, he had seen them and vainly tried to lift
his machine clear of them. The wires had
caught a wing and sent him crashing to the
earth.
We found him underneath the engine,
quite dead, the fall having killed him in-
stantly. We made an improvised litter out
of one of the wings and carried him to the
nearest hangar. As we placed an overcoat
over the shapeless form, I heard a sniffle
behind me and found the red-haired mecha-
nician at my side.
“You didn’t get him, you dirty cops. He
got away from you, after all.”
“Yes, he’s safe now,” I murmured.
“Sure! An’ he would 'a' been always if he
235


RED CAPITULATES 237
gether, the boss and me. Wasn’t pals or
anything like that, but we understood each
other. I’d seen, for a couple of months, that
the boss had somethin’ on his mind. I knew
it wasn’t any jane, because they never wor-
ried him none. He worried them a lot, but
somehow he just took 'em as they come. He
talked with me some—he claimed I was the
best mechanician he had over there,—and I
figured it out at last that what he was
worryin’ about was money. He spent a lot,
an’ was free an easy, an’ it worried him to
figure that he was goin’ to go bu'st pretty
soon. The first day I was here, he brought
a woman out, a swell looker—I didn’t find out
till afterwards that it was Felderson’s wife—
an’ he kinda kidded her along about helpin'
him over the rough spots by lendin’ him a
little of her dough. I sort of figured out
he was goin’ to run off with the woman,
'cause the next morning he come out and
said we could take a month’s lay-off if we
wanted to, as he was goin’ on his honeymoon.
I thought he was goin’ to take me along, but


240 32 CALIBER
me to take the plane back an’ to forgit 'at
I’d brought it out. I ast him had he killed
his skunk an he laughed an’ said, ‘I made him
pretty sick anyway.” I’d told the boys to have
the flares out at the park as I was a-goin’
to test the machine, so I didn’t have no
trouble in landin’.”
He stopped and rolled a cigarette.
“That's all you know, is it?” the coroner
asked.
“That’s all I know, so help me Henry-
but ain’t it enough?”
He looked around at the three of us who
had been listening intently to his story.
“I should say it is,” said Simpson.


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I LISTEN TO MY FOREBEARS
ELEN had come home. She preferred
living with mother and myself, rather
than opening up Jim's house, which she had
been told belonged to her. Yes, her memory
of past events was still gone, and each night I
sat with her and repeated bits here and there
of the experiences through which she had
lived. Every now and then a thought would
come to her and she would be able to fill in
parts of the narrative, but this was seldom.
In a way, it was fortunate, for I was able to
leave out all the sordid details of her past and
give her only the recollections worth keep-
ing. As soon as she is quite strong, Doctor
Forbes is going to reconstruct the tragedy
for her, and he says he has every reason to
believe that he will be successful in restoring
her memory. In the meantime, she is en-
tirely happy and content, and more beautiful
than ever.
241


I LISTEN TO MY FOREBEARS 243
ment the orchestra began a fox-trot and she
whirled away in the arms of young Davis,
smiling into his face as though she adored
him. Davis holds a girl so tightly that it is
actually indecent, but she seemed to enjoy it.
I was by her side, almost before the music
stopped, but she turned away without looking
in my direction and, literally hanging on
Davis’ arm, made her way from the ball-
TOOnn.
I finally caught her alone while she was
waiting for some yokel to get her a glass of
punch.
“Mary, may I have a dance?” I blurted
out.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Thompson, but my pro-
gram is full,” she answered sweetly—too
Sweetly.
“But there aren’t any programs,” I in-
sisted.
“Nor have I any dances left,” she count-
ered.
“Mary, I’m awfully sorry—”
“Oh! There you are, Mr. Steel,” she


248 32 CALIBER
as no man ever loved a girl before, tries to go
out with a man I think is wholly unworthy of
her, why shouldn’t I object? I’ll do it again.
I want you and I’m to have you, if I’ve got to
fight for you. Even if I have to fight yow
for you.”
Suddenly Mary buried her face in her
hands. Her shoulders shook.
“Don’t cry, Mary! I know I’ve—”
“I’m not crying, I—I'm laughing,” she
gurgled, dropping into a chair. “Bupps, you
do look so funny when you get excited.”
I went over to her and made her make
room for me on her chair, and then I put my
arms around her.
“Mary, lover-darling, why did you go out
with Frank Woods that day?”
“Why, Bupps, I was hunting the same
proof that you were. I felt all along that
Frank was guilty.”
“I’m a brute!”
“You’re a foolish boy,” she said, twisting
one of my few locks of hair.
She snuggled closer,


1 LISTEN TO MY FOREBEARS 249
“Dearest of dearests, when are you going
to stop teasing me?” I asked.
“Never, Buppkins!” she replied. “I just
discovered that it brings out your strong
points.”
“Do you remember what you said when I
tried to ask you to marry me?” I whispered.
She shook her head.
“You told me to wait until Helen was
Well.”
“You know, Bupps—the first thing I said
to Helen this—this afternoon was—”
“What?”
“‘How—how well you’re looking.’”
With her face so close to mine and those
lovely lips smiling at me so invitingly, there
was only one thing to do, so I did it.
“The kid's got the stuff in him after all,”
said Hunkers.
“I’ll say he has,” agreed Captain Kidd.
THE END











V\ \ – D. l. (),