The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1910-02-24
CHAPTER ".


sat in lie Roy's cafe. an ala night res
paper men, industriously disposing of
a roast beef sandwich.
Iarry's forehead was twisted into
half dozen corrugations. He was
hoping none of the boys would come
in till he had got this Wayne story
little clearer in his head. Larry and
two photographers had made three
trips out to the Park to see the awful
Thing which some apt reporter had
christened the Man-aperilla.
One by one the boys came trooping
in. And the Wayne murder was the
topic of the night.
I'll tell you what it is. boys" said
Hank Smith. THAT Man-Aperilla is
half-human and ] know it, When
those white and black eyes were turn
er upon me I felt my soul crawl out
from under me, and l was left there
hanging in space Tell you what it is,
there's a story there"
"Cut it. Hank, cut it." called little
red headed John Johnston. the best
police reporter in town. Here, Ma
mie." TO the waitress. bring Hank
take a rubber at the conversational
game. Wasn't that girl a sumner.
though? And did you notice. too. what
a dead match that her hair was for
the color of the pelt on the beast?"
Now every man at the table had
noted just that point. 1t was so OBJ
vious a point that ii was startling.
Each had been loath to launch an opin-
ion on Ii. But Johnny had a way
with him of pumping all you knew by
bold plays. Each man took counsel
with himself wondering what johnny
would do next For ten years these
boys and Johnny had met every Mon
day night, and the crowd had learned
when to give him rope.
But just now Johnny and his bowl
of rice and milk relapsed into silence
while his companions ranged far in
wild theories OF who III" was, what
part he had played in the life and
was wife, widow, murdered or simply
another victim OF the suicide list
By and by Johnny dug down into
one of the ever bullying pockets of his
always baggy trousers. The by-word
was that Johnny always looked so
much like burglar that he never had
any trouble gaining the confidence of
the rather reticent people of that pro-
fession.
Hunting for a quarter. Johnny. or
toothpick?" questioned Larry Morris.
Here. look at this" answered John
n.y.
Into their midst he twirled the some
thing he had drawn from his pocket
1t was a mans garter of lavender silk
elastic, the buckle hand wrought from
rose gold. set round with amethysts
and on the face the initial H." worked
out in emeralds and amethysts of ex-
cessive smallness but exceedingly great
brilliancy.
Where did you get that?" came the
chorus.
Well said Johnny. listen. I pick
ed this up in the Desterle house about
an hour ago. Say. everybody about
that house has got stage fright. They
are all moving out. An earthquake
couldn't move them quicker than they
are going. The death watch has got
it's grip on the whole thirty five board
ers. More than half of them are speed
ing away to spend the night with
nd-baggage only. Great show, too.
to watch them hustle out. I'm going
to sleep up there tonight. l picked
this garter up in the closet where 1t
had rolled down behind little shelf.
Now women. you know. don't wear
garters like this"
Might" beloved Hank Smith.
Saw telegraph story the other day
that they had taken to wearing half
hose in New York"
But here's the question" continued
Johnny, mo man in the house knew
Mrs. Wayne nor anything about her.
Why. the only decent word any one
Of those curious passed about her was
that no one had come to see her since
she arrived, and that she had appeared
embarrassed when her fellow boarders
of the sex masculine attempted to pay
her any attention"
TIL just wager that she was some
poor, sweet little girl who had mar
ried some old fool for his money" in
terposed Philip Hartley, whose sym
pathetic heart beat for all the mis-
treated women in the world. she's
found him unbearable, and refused to
live with him. and he's just bounded
her to death. That H may have stood
for Hubby" in the letter that had the
threat to kill her. / believe she's been
taking slow poison. and came here
where she wasn't known to snuff ii off
quietly"
How about the Man-AperfIla p
fouted Larry Morris. Proceed, Jules
Verne H. Why don't you go farther,
and have it a trained ape sent carrier
pigeon, bloodhound fashion by the
ogre-husband, to choke her to death p"
Because she wasn't choked," con-
tended Hartley. Heavens, what a
woman she must have been"
"Oh. to kill from Jealousy" ad<leo