The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1921-03-27

! call of any owl I had ever heard before.
All at once the solution flashed
across my mind; it was not the call OF
a bird but a clever imitation. persis-
tent signal
| I crept out of bed and looked from
the window. The whistle came from
the direction Of a tiny building which
before supper ! had noticed Just show
ing through the trees some yards away
from the farmhouse.
| In the darkness could see no move
ment in that direction, but a light in
small bungalow very near my side
of the house, which I thought must
hold the Cosgrove family when they
| had a house full Of guests, attracted
my attention. Shadows were crossing
and recrossing before it.
AS 1 looked, the lamp was suddenly
turned low, the door opened, and three
stealthly figures crept out and hurried
, in the direction from which the bird
call had come.
/ could barely distinguish the three
stealthy figures which crept out of the
little bungalow adjoining the Cosgrove
farmhouse at the signal which so clev-
erly initiated the persistent call of
the screech owl.
II IL udu not DGcll AOI TIC oLleLdON
which their figures had made against
the lamp as they hurriedly crossed be-
fore it when the call sounded I would
have had no idea who the midnight
providers were. But the shadows gave
me a shrewd idea that the three peo-
pie hurrying through the darkness in
he direction of the bird call were Mr..
= nd Mrs. Cosgrove and one of their
twin sons.
I fancied that I heard the sound Of
convulsive sobbing in the distance, but
was not quite sure.
My brain whirled with the mystery
Of it all. I gripped the window sill as
I mentally ran over the queer things
had observed since the night be-
fore, when Djcky and I had arrived
at the Cosgrove farmhouse.
Mrs. Cosgroves evident terror at my
assertion that I could tell her twin
boys apart-something which no one
else in the house protested to be able
to do-the possession by the family Of
n collection. Of pictures painted by Mrs
Cosgrove's brother. which Dicky had
recognized and pronounced to be worth
$4,000, and the queer, furtive behavior
of Mrs. AlIis, our fellow boarder,
when she discovered that Dicky was
an artist and had an experts knowl-
edge of the pictures-a1l rushed
through my mind with kaleidoscope
rapidity.
1 recalled the sudden wild shrek Of
joy from Mrs. Cosgrove at DicBy's val
uation of the pictures: rs it really
true? Think Of what it will mean TO
Robert" and the note of warning in
her husbands voice when he answer
Roberts sister to have these paint
ings so honored."
From the way in which both Dicky
and the cosgroves had spoken of Rob
ert Savarin, I had thought that he was
dead, but the memory of Mrs. Cos
groves hysterical exclamation made
me wCslder If he were not perhaps
alive. and if there was not some rea-
son for keeping his existence a secret.
Dicky had been so tired and sleepy
when we came UP to our room that I
had had no opportunity TO ask him
about the history of the pictures and
the artist who painted them. re-
solved to find out everything he knew
about them as soon as he awoISe in
the morning.
1t was not all curiosity that made
me wish to find out the farmhouse
mystery, although the happenings of I
the night were enough to stir any wo-
mans interest. But I had a queer,
indefinable conviction that Mrs. Ais |
meant ha- n to the collection of pic |
lures in the farmhouse parlor, while /
the memory of Mrs. Cosgrove's tor
tured eyes. convinced me that she I,
needed aid Of some sort.
But watching at the window I de--'
cfded was Of no use. As / moved away
from 1t my ear caught the faintest
Of sounds as Of a door opening on
the opposite side Of the hall A min
ute dater board of the staircase
creaked. The person who was de-
the stairs must be well train
ed to stealthy fitting, for I heard no
footsteps until the creak Of the stair
case.
ITO Ra Honfinuedl