Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1911-07-21

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desk and took up a telephone
Creamery, 9-7-4-6." she called.
The Efingham?-Mr. Ranscome,
please.-This is Mrs Missioner. Mr..
Ranscome.-Yes, l am at home
| Can you come up for a few minutes?
Thank you." and as she returned
| the receiver TO the hook, she explain
ed: "Ranscome is the oldest expert
in New York
While we are about It," said Sands
slowly. I'VE may as we'll call head
quarters" He reached for the tele-
phone, but his hand was stayed by
Dorothy's fluttering fingers.
"Oh. Bruxton." she said. please
don't call the police" and as his eye
brows went up, she added. Il am so
frightened"
Il wouldn't be hasty, Sands" said
Griswold. The newspapers follow
the sleuths, you know"
I'm not think of the newspapers,
replied Mrs. Missioner but maybe
we'd better wait for Mr.. Ranscome.
You see," and there was perplexity
In the glance that swept the group,
this is no ordinary theft"
Not a burglary, you Think" asked
Griswold quickly. He had lighted his
cigarette, and, leaning back in coy
corner of the inglenook. was smoking
with little abrupt puffs that con
trasted with the ease of his position.
He studied the widow covertly
through weaving wreaths.
IF a burglar could reach this room,
l must reorganize my hous ehold," she
murmured. She was gazing into the
flames Her shoulders dropped, and
Sands, noticing her WEAKNESS,
switched off the lights. The rainbow
sparkle of the jewel trays varied fam
tastically the pattern of the rug on
which they lay, but the background OF
dusk rested her.
And there is no one you suspect"
There is no one in the house can
suspect"
you are to be congratulated Girls
void commented, with a smile dis
creetly divided between sincerity and
satire. And, of course. having such
an impeccable household"
"If l were you, Doris" Sands broke
In impatiently, I'D send for the po-
lice at once" His slow logic had car
ried him to the fact that even now
the thief might be on the road to es-
cape Little Miss March glanced at
him admiringly. Swift or slow of wit,
the man of action appeals.
Il think Mr. Sands is right, Mrs.
Missioner" she said softly. ut fright
ened me at first, but Bruxton knows"
advise me-" said the widow, her
satin slipper tap-tap-tapping the fen
der of FURNISHED brass. Il am not
testing when I say | am in the hands
of my friends. All this IS more than
pulling"
"Puzzling!" echoed Dorothy. ITS
a mystery-and it's all very dreadful,
too" Sands looked at her, smiling.
There was eloquence in those rare
smiles of his, much more than In his
speech Not without cause did Wall
Street know him as Silent" Sands
why not a private detective"
Griswold suggested at is the best
way to recover stolen property"
Mr.. Ranscome, madam"
A footman of conventional pattern
stood on the threshold as II on
pedestal and looked at Mrs. Missioner
from a Carven face.
Let him come up, Blodgett," she
responded. The Carven features
blurred into the background A round
little man with the face of dreamer
and the eyes of a student entered al
most on his toes. Mrs. Missioner
greeted him pleasantly, and as she
pressed the button that filled the
room with light again, she presented
him to her friends. "Mr. Ranscome,'
she added, us an expert of experts.
Briefly the widow recounted the ac-
cident in the opera box, the discovery
of the supposed Maharanee dia-
monds worthlesSness, and her sus-
picion as to the other stones of her
necklace. During her recital Rams
comes glance caressed the gems in
the scattered trays, and it was by a
visible eIIOTI IudL lie "IeSlSu hAS Cy %
from them to look at the stones on
the table
Are they real?" asked the widow.
The little man seemed not to hear
her.
did you say, madam. the Mahara'
nee diamond"
yes" she answered, and waves of
pain rippled across her face. "Oh,
Mr.. Ranscome, think Of it-think of
it," She clasped her hands so tense
ly the rings upon them bit her flesh.
Think of 1t, Mr.. Ranscome!"
"The Maharanee!" he murmurod-
say, rather, groaned in an undertone.
"a glorious jewel a wonderful jewel,
queens jewel! Gone, did you say?
Absolutely gone-not trace Of it?"
With the fat Of his hand he spread
the smaller stones on the table, strok
ing their gloss with sensitive fingers.
He held three or four to the light,
then, with a disdainful gesture, smear
ed the glistening pile broadcast across
the board.
None" replied the widow And
those?"
These, Mrs. Missioner" the expert
said az n waking from a dream ARE