The Red Cloud chief., 1914-07-23

closed the door, the latch caught and
I couldn't get out. There ! vas.
locked In that beastly hole. I struck
a match. II was lucky I had a match.
box along. Then l found AL electric
light. The first thing my eyes lit on
among that waste was a sheet OF pa
per. I picked 1t UP. ! had seen the
writing before"
Whose was IT." stammered Went.
worth.
whose was It? Don't put UP that
BLUM on me- cried the actress scorn-
fully. 1T was Merry's, Of course. You
recognized II in q second. 1t was the
last speech I made In the second act
AS 1t used to be--before you. the
author. changed It."
WELL" cried Enoch fercely. The
woman paused and turned to him with
an amused smile.
Il had forgotten about George Volk.
He never showed up. He does not
count anyway. l found the whole play
In that closet"
Then what did you dol" Enoch's
face was full Of hatred and defiance.
His eyes famed with the tumult OF an
animal at bay.
There was only one thing to DO"
Zilla Paget lay back in the chair and
smoothed the chinchilla Of her mum
caressingly. "Of course I brought It
away with me, every scrap of It. You
asset into the hands Of a dustman.
would you? There are only two pages
missing. Do you care to see it?"
Damn you. no! have no wish to
see It," snarled Wentworth.
ANY fool can tell at q glance 1t 10
a first draft. Merry must have written
like mad. There IL hardly a change
in 1t. Except for my own role. every
line stands almost as 1t was written"
Enoch suddenly leaned forward in
his chair. you think you've got the
strangle hold on met"
Miss Paget laughed triumphantly.
THE strangle hold! You Americans
have such jolly strong words! That's
great-the strangle hold"
She rose and folded the pages of
manuscript. put them in her bag. then
she drew OF her coat and hung 1t on
the chair behind her. She lifted a
gold case from the pocket, picked out
a cigarette, and scratching q match
lit It, blowing q delicate ring Of smoke
across the room. 1t fitted into Went
! worth's face.
II always knew" she bent over tc
drop q fieck Of ashes on a tray be
side her. 'or rather I have guessed fol
q long time. that you did not write
The House Of E~sterbrook.'"
what gave you that Impression
For one thing, everybody tells how
you and Merry were friends once
Castor and Pollux sort Of guys, DOM
you know. You hate each other now
An owl could see that with its eyes
shut"
IF you ever left the stage you coult
make big money In the detective bust
ness" Enoch laughed harshly.
Perhaps" she acceded. Then
have rehearsed too many plays not Il
| know the author when l bump int
him. knew months g that Merr!
wrote The House, but l could no
prove 1t. You haven't got 1t in yo'
to do that sort of work"
Thank you" Enoch laughed ur
steadily.
Here's the who, ii.uation. II Mis-
Wentworth anu you do not fancy hav
ing me here as a-guest, no bette
word than that occurs to me nov
!, Grant Oswald might be interested: q
least he might insist on paying tn
! royalties to the-author. Or, l coul
, get a fancy price for the story from
! New York paper. am told they pa
7 tremendously on this side for a ri
\ ping sensation. This would make ont
\ don't you say 30 %yourself?"
N MY Cod" Enoch stared at he
with desperate eyes.
Miss Paget rose, unpinned her ha
In and tossed 1t upon the table. Sh
stood surveying Wentworth with
CLEAN OF amusement In her eyes. The
It. she crossed the room and leaned o,
a at the window. Hi. there. Cabby
ly she called. wake up. Bring In Il
Ak rest of that luggage"