Baraboo weekly news. [volume] (Baraboo, Wis.) 1912-197?, 1913-09-18

It was Evelyn-s turn TO ran rnU0
a brown study, from which he
emerged with his friends words
upon his lips. II wonder-I won
der. That would be foxy game,
wouldn't it? But has he the sense?
Surprising this man did see some one,
and that one wasn't Adele? VINO
could it be? If a man, then small
and slender enough to dress and
pass for a girl; il woman, one VINO
was either in our employ or VINO
dressed as maid. It's beyond me.
Suppose the things were stolen by
some one in the house-Adele, let
us say, or John--what would they
do with them? No one has left the
place, the robbery was discovered so
soon"
"Of course" said Wendham,
they're hidden, and, of course, In
a place that would not be likely to
be thought OF, at least in any super
fetal search, sAch as we made to-
night. This has been planned,
Heaven knows how long ahead,
and the receptacle chosen. IT John
is the guilty one, l would incline to
the CARIBBEAN old we'll, the cellar.
7 once heard of a butler who put
stolen diamonds into a bottle OF port.
corked it, and resealed it, marked
it. and put it with the other bottles.
Unfortunately the very next day the
master happened to take out thaO
bottle from the back rOw-and--
there you are. 1t was mere luck.
We may be as fortunate. II, on the
contrary, it's Adele, there's no tell
ing. If that girl is clever enough TO
lie with such absolute appearance or
truth, she's clever enough to out
wit us all, and our only hope is that
she'll be too clever and meet us half
way round the circle again"
"Oh, well, what's the use? Let's
20 TO bed, old man. I'm down and
out" Evelyn rose, stretched him.
self, and suppressed yawn. Look.
here comes the dawn. Was ever any
thing better than that? Corot is
back number, as Alice would say"
The great plain far below the hill
was wrapped in blue night. grading
to purple. A thread OF scarlet
touched it's uttermost rim, while
above the clouds melted to tones
of opal. Higher yet, the almost
white sky was limpid as a moon
stone. The two men stood by the
window a moment, then simultane-
ously turned away. Good night
excuse me, good day, old man.
Thanks for your help and your pleas
ant company"
Don't mention it," said Wend-
ham. There's something stewing
at the back of my brain. | think I'll
have an idea soon. If I do, I'll let
you know. They've not been of much
use so far. Good day"
They sought their rooms. Wend-
hams brain was too active for sleep.
Instead, after cold plunge, he seat
ed himself, wrapped in heavy bath
robe, by the window and watched
the miracle of morning.
Suddenly the inward self, as Il
after huge and hidden labor, sup
piled a recollection. Apparently it
was not connected with the case in
mind. It seemed rather, in the eff
fort to reach the thing desired, the
dislodgment of another memory from
it's cell
why. of course, Mrs. Wimbledon
was the woman whom the famous
French specialist had once named as
the most gifted hypnotist Of his &C
quaintance" Yes that was the name.
He had not been able to place it
no wonder. Who would have con-
nected Mrs. Gaynor with a science
as remote from her interests, or with
any one so devoted to it pursuits?
Wimbleton-the name on the en-
velope entrusted to his care, had use
lessly haunted him. The strange, in
sistent, relentless personality that
dwells in us all, pushed aside
his conventional wonderings and
thoughts. He found himself sud-
! denly confronted by the vision
of the maid as she chung to-
Mrs. Gaynor's knees-of the strange
relaxation. of her body, when with
gentle, forceful firmness he had or
dered her to be quiet. = He recalled
+ the anxiety of her gaze. He had no
thought of compelling her will, other
than his wish to spare the woman he