The gazette-times. [volume] (Heppner, Or.) 1912-1925, 1915-03-26


The clock said half-past eleven.
What the telephone had to communi-
cate remained to be seen.
"Heilo,"
"Oh. John! Is that you, John?"
The voice was shrilly nervous, terror
stricken, wholly unfamiliar.
l essayed to reply that my name
is not John, but the voice, unheeding.
cut me short.
"Oh, John-come quick" it al
most shrieked. Hurry! Hurry!
There's somebody in the next room
some thief. heard him break in
and I'm all alone. Oh, John-he's
coming in here. Police. Help!
J-O-H-N-"
The last was wall of abject fear
and horror. There came the sound of
an oath, a scream broken sharply in
two-then silence.
For moment my brain throbbed
with excited, futile queries. Then |
ratified the telephone hook and a
voice snapped out: What is it,,
please?"
What number did | have just
now?"
Il cant tell. They've hung up
Find out? A woman is being
murdered there. QUICK!"
At once | saw my mistake. Instead
OF stimulating the operator to intelli-
gent action | confused her utterly.
She could only stammer. idiotically:
1 can't don't know-they've hung
up"
Think hard l urged. What
number did they call for when you
gave them mine?"
Isn't this Brown 45S3?"
No said, get that number,
quick"
The lines must have crossed,
then." said Central perplexedly.
Hold your phone and I'll try"
For five solid minutes she rang
Brown 1853, informing me tremulous-
ly every 30 seconds that she was try
ing to get my party" Just as the
case seemed hopeless faint hello
came over the line.
Are you, John?" | bawled, my
words tumbling over each other. His
reply was unintelligible, but waited
for no confirmation. Go home at
once" l told him. Get a taxicab.
Beat it. Your wife's being killed by
burglars"
| could hear him gasp.
WHY haven't any wife" he
said in suffering bewilderment. I'm
observation-disclosures"
What place is this?"
Bradley & Jones law office"
"Is either of them named John"
II don't-wait a minute. Yes
John P. Bradley"
II don't know"
Bang! went my receiver on the
hook. My fingers raced through the
telephone directory. Bradley, Brad
ley-yes, there it was: John P.
Bradley, residence, 19- Pacific
street."
Should stop to notify the police?
No, enough time had been wasted al
ready. | rushed out, gathering my
hat and coat in transit.
Only after an almost empty car was
bearing me toward my destination did
[ realize the difficulties of my task.
was going to rescue lady from
burglars without even walking
stick for a weapon. Oh, well, I had
never gone armed-and out of many
trying situations had always
emerged the better for it.
About five minutes walk brought
me to 10 Pacific street. 1t was in
block where the wealthy and we'll
to-do mingled In architectural har-
mony with scarcely line of demarca-
tion. One might have said the de-
cline was gradual. A huge brown
stone mansion with porte cochere and
with carved lions thanking the marble
steps, occupied about one-third Of
the block. No. 19, on the opposite
end, was extremely modest by com
parison, but not without the dignity
of established financial position.
AS I stood there. cogitating, cast
ing quick glance about me and try
ing to size up the situation as my
friend Sherlock Holmes might have
done, | saw that the front door was
ever so slightly ajar. A careless and
almost successful attempt had been
made to shut it, but the latch had
caught and held it just beyond the
locking point. A thread of light
showed dimly at its edges. pushed
1t open, softly and entered.
Not without hesitation | advanced
stealthily toward the light. The door