Evening star., 1920-02-22

or nina.
Are you coming back with me,
Francie. for a final smoke" invited
Tredways when we were alone.
Not unless you have something in
teresting to tell me in regard to this
case"
"An implication that You find 1t
fat?"
DO not you?"
yes, verify. We are fishing in shall
low waters, Francie. Come and see
me Wednesday night and hear the
result
! was able to accept Tredways' in
vitation, which matured seventy-two
hours after Miss Caseldy's visit.
"Oh, that?" said he. disinterestedly,
as l opened up the subject. That is
a chapter closed"
And was John Bartle at Black
moore" I questioned.
What opinion have YOU formed,
Francie?"
II think that he was"
well. he was not" laughed Tired
ways. THE poor fellow has been
grossly libeled. The other box, Fran
Gle, that lot are green cigars. I have
been TO Blackmoor convict prison. Its
governor, Maj. Stark, more than once
invited me to go over the place, so I
killed two birds with one stone. We
motored over the moors. which are a
glory of purple heather. ] inquired If
a John Bartle had been one of his
derelicts of late. His books recorded
no such name. but, then, that " 81
hardly to be expected ! then pro-
duced the photograph. This
had less negative result. Mine was
compared with another. and certainly
there was a resemblance, rather an
unusual likeness. Was on the right
track? No. The prison photograph
was that of Nathan Branna. And
could Branna be Bartle? Impossible.
Branna had entered Blackmoor seven
years ago. not three. He had re-
ceived, and fulfilled, that term Of i'm
prisonment for the very unromantic
and commonplace crime of house,
breaking.
Now Bartle. a prosperous engineer,
would scarcely turn common gar
den craftsman. However, efficiency
is life. On my return ! went to Bar
tie; looked him up at his swagger
apartment. ] employed no 1nesse, but
] told him just the facts as we knew
them, and / added that / had been to
Rlackmoor. Did he knock me down
for my Interference? He did not.
He was much hurt. deeply injured by
the strange mistrust evinced by Janet
Caseldy. He declared that the man
Judson (and Judson was at Black
moor. by the way) had mistaken him
for some one else. That that some
one was Branna seems evident. I
mentioned Branna. Good God. Mr..
Tredways,' he exclaimed, hotly. Is 1t
possible that Miss Caseldy classes me
with burglars" I came away con-
WINGED. and leaving apologies
And ii you are not satisfied even
yet, Francie. will adduce one more
certificate that there is nothing in the
case. Our friend Janet Caseldy sent
me- as promised, the last letter she
received from Bartle when she was in
the states. Both letter andzenveIope
bear the same date. Well. on that
day Nathan Branna was at Blaclmoor
prison; had been there nearly four
years. 1t is impossible. therefore, to
invent any link connecting the two
men. In fact. the idea is in the re-
gion of the grotesque, andH shall now
crop Miss Caseldy line informing
her that she has done Bartle
great"
AT that moment, as he was actually
reaching out for sheet of note.
paper. letter which had come
through the post arrived Treadways
put down his pen and jerked open the
envelope. Suddenly an extraordinary
expression appeared in his face
""see there, Francie," said he, with
grim snap Of his jaws
1 took up the note. 1T held three
unsigned lines:
UNLESS you instantly abandon your
present research. Miss Caseldy, John
Bartle or Hogg Treadways will be
shot dead within twenty -four hours
of your receipt Of this warming"
The clearly written words, traced
by no illiterate hand, seemed to
strike me in the face.