Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1914-02-22

reported in this column at the time-was but
mild beginning. The gentleman in charge
of the claimant to the title held so jealousy
by Our British friend promises immediate
developments which will be rich, rare, and
racy."
@Rich, rare, and racy,' repeated Minot
thoughtfully. @Ah, yes-we were to watch
Trimmer. 1 had almost forgotten him in
the excitellent of last evening. By the way,
does The Mail know anything about the
disappearance of Chain Lightning's collar?'
Madame On Dit claims to have been guest
at the dinner. BY the way, what do you
make of last nights melodramatic farce?'
II don't know what to make of it. an
swered Minot truthfully. He was suddenly
conscious of the necklace in his inside coat
pocket.
Then all 1 can say, my dear Watson"
replied Paddock with burlesque seriousness,
"is that you are Enthusiastically lacking in my
powers of deduction. Give me a cigarette,
and III tell you the name of the man who is
gloating over those diamonds today"
"All right" smiled Minot. go ahead
Paddock, reaching for match tray, spoke
in low tone into Minot's ear. Martin
Wall, he said; He leaned back. "You ask
how I arrived at my conclusion. Simple
possible crooks, and eliminated them one by
one. The man l have mentioned alone was
left. Ever notice his eyesl Remind me of
Manuel Gonzales. He's too polished, too
slick, too good, to be true. He's travelled too
much. Nobody travels so much as he has ex-
cept for the very good reason that detective
is on the trail. And he made friends with
simple old Harrowby on an Atlantic liner
that, if you read popular fiction, is alone
enough to condemn him. Believe me, Dick,
Martin Wall should be watched"
Gail right laughed Minot, "you watch
him."
"I've notion to. Harrowby makes me
weary. Won't call in solitary detective.
Anyone might think he doesn't want the
necklace back"
AFTER breakfast Minot and Paddock
played five sets of tennis on the hotel
courts. And Minot won, despite the Har-
rowby diamonds in his trousers pocket,
weighing him down. Luncheon over, Pad
dock suggested drive to Tarragona Island.
"A little bit of nowhere mile off shore,
he said. mo man can ever know the true
inwardness of the word lonesome until he's
seen Tarragona.'
Minot hesitated. Ought he to leave the
scene of action? He glanced about him.
There was less action here than in a Henry
James novel. The tangle of events in which
he was involved rested for siesta.
So he and Paddock drove along the mar
row neck of land that led from the mainland
to Tarragona Island. They entered the
kingdom of the lonely, sandy beach with
the ocean on one side, swamps on the other;
scrubby palms, disreputable foliage, here
and there a cluster of seemingly deserted
cottages, the world and its works appar-
entity million miles away. Yet out on one
corner of that bleak, forgotten acre stood the
slim outline of a wireless, and in little
white house lived man who amid the sea-
gulls and the sand dunes talked daily with
great ships, and cities far away.
Il told you it was lonesome" said Pad
dock.
"Lonesome!" shivered Minot Even God
has forgotten this place! Only Marconi has
remembered"
And even as they wandered there amid the
swamps, where alligators and rattlesnakes
alone saw fit to dwell, back in San Marco
the capable Trimmer was busy. By poster
and by handbill he was spreading word of
his newest coup; SO that by evening no one
in town, save the few who were most con-
cerned, was unaware of a development
rich, rare, and racy.
To be continued next Sunday