Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1914-03-16
David TillOtsOn's
Immense Mystery,

Mr.. David Tillotson elevated his
neatly shod feet to the top of his desk
and. leaning his head against the
leather cushioned back of his chair,
permitted a smile to trickle around
his straight cut, matter of fact mouth
Mystery p" he shifted scornfully.
I've often wondered why the diction-
airy makers give that much abused
word any space in their dreary vol
umes There is no suen thing as
mystery, my dear Tanning. There is
perfectly good and entirely simple
explanation for every so called mys-
terry"
Egbert Tanning smiled in superior
manner, and, tossing the end of his
cigar into the waste paper basket, he
calmly proceeded to light another.
Il must go now,'' he said, rising and
reaching for his hat, but let me tell
you, old man, that you may run across
a mystery within the next twenty-four
hours that even your cleverness can
not solve This is not a threat, but
plain, matter OF fact prediction of
what is likely to happen TO scoffer
of unknown forces
Observation-Disclosures tommyrot!
calculated David as the door closed
behind his smiling friend.
Dismssing the discussion of the last
half hour thus lightly, Mr.. Tillotson
plunged into his afternoon mail with
a mind untrammeled by thoughts of
perplexing questions. His pleasant
voice dictated letter after letter. while
his quiet little stenographer took down
his words with flying pencil and the
rustic of turning leaves as her note
book filled up.
That is all, Miss Dickson, said Da-
vid at last, and he swung his chair
to the window as the girl passed into
the small inner office that was her
own especial sanctum. The inner Of
flee possessed one window opening on
the courtyard ten stories below, and
only one door, the one leading to
David Tillotsons private Office.
David swung idly in his chair for
awhile, debating whether he would go
for spin in his fast motorcar or
spend the remainder of the afternoon
at his dub.
While he pondered this important
question he was soothed almost to
somnolence by the muffied clicking of
Miss Dckson's typewriter behind the
closed door of her office. Some men
would have objected to the noise of the
machine, but not David Tillotson. He
boosted that he had not a nerve in his
big. strong body.
At last he realized that the clicking
had ceased, and, having decided to
take a ride. he telephoned for his car
to be brought around and then pressed
the button for Miss Dickson.
She did not respond to the summons.
Again he pressed the button, and,
meeting no response from the usually
prompt and businessike young wo-
man, David went to the door of her
Office and looked in.
The room was empty.
The neatly typed letters were on her
desk awaiting his signature. Her hat
was on it's accustomed hook and one
of her dainty handkerchief was on
the floor
But there was no sign of Elsie Dick
son.
David was disturbed. He had not
heard Miss Dickson pass through his
office, as she necessarily must in order
to reach the outer door. He was I'M
usually keen of hearing. end even her
light football would have attracted his
attention, for it was a fact that quite
unknown to himself David Tillotson
was deeply interested in the quiet,
dove eyed girl who had so long and
faithfully served him.
He did not realize that many of his
cleverest transactions had been inspir-
ed by Elsie Dickson. He would have
scoffed if any one, Tanning, for in
stance, had limited that he was in love
with his stenographer, but it was quite
true that her presence always exerted
soothing influence upon her employ
err. He left entirely contented If he
knew that she was in the next room,
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