The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1917-01-01

Lois Fox was the young lady he
had numerous reasons for suspect
ing her to be, it would be TO her
great advantage to communicate
with him at once. 1t had been only
during the preceding month mo
vember) that he had heard of her
existence, together with sufficient
of her history to prompt him to
write at all, and if she proved to
be the right person the matter
was of enough importance for him
to make the long journey to Los
Angeles expressly to see her.
He gave an address, in London
where a letter to him would be
held pending his arrival there.
The name signed to this curious
epistle was Games Strang."
You answered it, of course?"
Certainly" Miss Fox returned.
The second letter was postmark-
ed London, and had followed Miss
Fox's reply. 1t was no more def
mite in imparting information than
the other had been, except that it
eategorically laid down a number
of questions, all of which, with
one important exception, related
to her infancy, a period of which
she knew nothing.
The exception referred to SEEM
ed to ME 10 IL one which should
determine tho question of identity
definitely.
why, bless you!" l exclaimed
when it fell under my eye. This
ought to settle it. Listen" And I
read aloud from the second letter,
/" Have you anywhere on your
body a crazy-looking design tat
tooed?'" looked sharply at rer,
with kindling establishment.
Have your" | asked.
My bluntness, / realized too
late, was embarrassing to her, al
together too personal.
l began an awkward apology,
adding: you need not answer, of
course. l can only plead that this
|muddle makes me forget myself"
She smiled forgiveness, and lay
ing a hand upon her bosom, re-
piled:
II have such a mark - right
here. But 1t is not a tattoo-mark;
1t is too irregular and purposeless
in design to be that. Besides, Aunt
Lois has assured me that it is q
Ibirthmark."
There were only two more let
tiers; second written from Lon
don, saying that the writer would
sail for New York soon.
The last letter was written at
New York, and merely mentioned
his safe arrival and the train he
was to take for the West.
The telegram, which had been
sent from Denver, read: Arrive
Los Angeles Saturday afternoon +"
1t bore the date of April 18th.
why" observed /, that was
only last Thursday! Did he show
up Saturday."
40. He has not showed ~ at
jail, and I don't know what TO
think. There has been nothing
since the telegram"
At this instant Stub knocked
and entered
Boss" he interrupted, in an
excited undertone, there's a gum
shoe out in the office right now
wanting to see you"
Miss Fox rose hastily, as IL to
retire.
Wait" I charged her. "This
might have to do with the very
thing we have been discussing. I
can't imagine otherwise why a de-
tective should favor me with a
CALL"
She moved over to a window.
turning her back on the room, and
at nod from me Stub sprang at
the door.
So promptly as to suggest that
he had been waiting not far away.
a hatchet-faced man entered.
Sorry to bother yuh, Mr.. Fer
ris," he began, "but | want to ask
yuh few questions on an import
ant matter. I'm a city detective:
Struber's my name"
| He laid on my blotting-pad n
small strip of white pasteboard
shaped like carpenters square.
Can you identify that?" he
asked, regarding me shrewdly.
| For the life of me, could not
restrain a start. Right at the
angle, In small type that was un-
mistakably familiar, appeared my
office telephone number. On the
instant / knew that this fragment
OF pasteboard was the remainder
OF the card from which had been
cut the address on the parcel en-
lclosing the diamond.