The Kennewick courier-reporter. [volume] (Kennewick, Wash.) 1914-1938, 1915-04-15

rosy and downy. One bite, after q
given time, will do the trick. II they
suspect and throw them out we have
lost nothing but the peaches. A
trusted messenger will carry them to
the Hargreave house. And then we'll
sit down and wait"
Meantime, In the library Of the Har|
greave house, Florence and Jim were
pushing over the blank sheet Of pa
per.
I'll wager" said Jim. ''the water
washed all the writing away. The
fire does not seem to do any good.
Wen turn It over to Jones. Joneslh
md q way to solre It. Trust him."
What are you two chattering|
about?" asked Susan. who was arrangj
ing some flowers on the table.
Secrets" said Jim. smiling.
"Humph!"
Susan puttered about for few minl
utes longer. then crossed to the recep3
ton room, intending to go upstairs.
At that moment the maid was ad-
hitting messenger with a basket Of
fruit.
For Miss Hargreave," said he. He.
gave the basket to the maid, touched
his cap awkwardly, and swung on his.
heel, closing the door behind him. He
was in a hurry to deliver another.
message.
20, what lovely fruit!" cried Susan
pausing. 'Tm going to steal one"
she laughed. She selected a peach.
and began eating it on the way up to
her room.
The maid passed on into the library.
What's this?" inquired Florence, as
the maid held out the basket. She
selected a peach and was about to set,
her white teeth into 1t when Jim In
terposed.
''Wait a moment, DEAR" Florence
lowered the peach. Jim turned to the
maid. who sent it,"
81 don't know, sir. A messenger
brought it, saying it was for Miss
Hargreave."
Let me see II there is a card"
But Jim searched in vain for the card
of the donor. At once all his suspi-
cions arose. Don't touch them. Bet
ter let the maid throw them out.
Fruit from unknown persons might
not be the healthiest thing in the
world"
What do you think?"
That In all probability they are poi,
soned. But there's no need trying to
prove my theory right or wrong. Ask
Jones. He'll tell you to throw them
away"
"Horrible!" Florence shuddered.
But they do not want to poison me.
I'm too valuable. They want me
alive"
"who can say?" returned Jim
gloomily. "They may have learned
that they cannot beat us. no matter
what card they turn up. may be
wrong, but take my advice and throw
them away. Good Lord, what's
that?" startled.
Some one cried!"
20, Miss Florence!" exclaimed the
maid, terror stricken as she recalled
Susan's act Miss Susan took q
peach from the basket and was eating
It on the way to her room!"
Good heavens!" gaspcd Jim.
was right. The fruit was poisoned"
Jim had head enough to send for 9
specialist he knew. The specialist are
rived about twenty minutes after Sus-
ans first cry. To his keen eye IL
looked like certain poison which had
for its basis the venom of the cobra,
''Will she liver"
20, yes. But she'll be a wreck for
some months. Send her to the hos.
pital where l can visit her frequently.
And I'll take that peach along for
analysis. No police AFFAIR.""
mo. We dare not call them In"
said Jim.
That's your affair. I'll send down
the ambulance. Keep her quiet She'll
have species of paralysis: but that'll
work on under the treatment. A
strange business"
$50 It 49, agreed Jim grimly.
Florence knelt beside her friends
bed and cried softly.
you called me just In time. An
hour later, nothing would have saved
her. She would have been paralyzed
for life."
Jim accompanied the doctor to the
door and went in search Of Jones. He
found the taciturn butler eying the,
fruit basket. his face gray and drawn
though his eyes blazed with fury.
"Poison!"
"A pretty bad poison. too" said Jim.
I'VE can't do anything. We've just
got to sit still. But In the end we'll
get them. That she devil -
mo, my friend; that he devil. The
woman IL mad over him and would,
commit any crime at his bidding. But:
this is his work, We want him. He.
wasn't without courage to send this.
fruit, knowing that would instantly:
suspect the sender. Yet, have no.
definite proof. / could not hold him.
in court In law. He will have bought.
the fruit piece by piece. the basket IN;
a basket shop. He will have injected,
the poison himself when alone. Poor.
eSti