The Idaho Springs siftings-news., 1915-01-16

was blooming queer dccloenl.
closed the door, the latch caught and
couldn't get. out. There ! was.
locked In that beastly hole. ! struck
| a match. II was lucky had q match
box along Then ! found an electric
light. The first thing my eyes lit on
among that waste was q sheet OF pa
per. ! picked 1t up. | had seen the
| writing before
Whose was it, stammered Went
worth.
Whose was It? Don't put up that
fully 1T was Merry's. OF course. You
recognized it in a second. II was the
last speech | made in the second act
as it used to be-before you. the
author. changed It."
Well" cried Enoch fiercely. 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 found the whole play
in that closet"
Then what did you do?" 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 | brought 1t
away with me. every scrap OF 1t. You
would not have let such a valuable
asset into the hands OF a dustman,
would you? There are only two pages
missing. Do you care to see it?'
Damn you, no!s I have no wish to
see It," snarled Wentworth.
ANY fool can tell at a glance it is
a first draft. Merry must have written
like mad. There is 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 me?''
Miss Paget laughed triumphantly.
have such jolly strong words! That's
great-the strangle hold"
She rose and folded the pages ol
manuscript. put them in her bag. then
she drew OF her coat and hung it on
the chair behind her. She lifted q
gold case from the pocket. picked out
a cigarette, and scratching a match
lit it, blowing a delicate ring OF smoke
across the room. 1t fitted into Went
worths face.
Il always knew" she bent over to
drop fleck OF ashes on a tray be-
side her, "or rather I have guessed for
a long time. that you did not write
The House OF Esterbrook,
What gave you that impression!
For one thing, everybody tells how
you and Merry were friends once
Castor and Pollux sort of guys, don't
you know. You hate each other now.
An owl could see that with its eyes
shut"
If you ever left the stage you could
make big money In the detective bust
ness" Enoch laughed harshly.
Perhaps" she acceded. Then l
have rehearsed too many plays not to
know the author when | bump into
him knew months ago that Merry
wrote The House, but could not
prove it You haven't got 1t In You
to do that sort OF work
Thank you" Enoch laughed un-
steadily.
Here's the whole situation. II Miss
Wentworth and you do not fancy hav-
ing me here as a-guest, no better
word than that occurs to me now.
Grant Oswald might be Interested: at
least he might insist on paying the
royalties to the-author. Or, ] could
get fancy price for the story from
New York paper. ] am told they pay
tremendously on this side for rip
ping sensation. This would make one.
don't you say so yourself?"
My God" Enoch stared at her
with desperate eyes.
Miss Paget rose. unpinned her hat
and tossed it upon the table. She
stood surveying Wentworth with \
gieam of amusement in her eyes. Then
she crossed the room and leaned out
at the window. Hi there. Cabby."
she called, wake up. Bring in the
rest OF that luggage.