The Glenwood post., 1923-02-22

Harriet had risen; she met Eaton's
gaze warnfngly and nodded to him to
comply. He bent again over the bed.
He felt the blind mans sensitive fin.
gers searching his features, his head.
his throat. Eaton gazed at Santoine's
face while the fingers were examining
him; he could see that Santoine was
merely finding confirmation of an i'm
preston already gained from what he
had been told him about Eaton. San
toine showed nothing more than this
confirmation; certainly he did not rec
ognize Eaton. More than this, Eaton
could not tell.
"Now your hands," Santoine or
dered.
Eaton extended one hand and then
the other; the blind man felt over
them from wrists to the tips of the
fingers; then he let himself sink back
against the pillows, absorbed in
thought.
"You may CO." Santoine said at last
Cop Eaton asked.
"You may leave the room. Blatch-
ford Will meet you downstairs"
Santoine reached for the house tel
ephone beside his bed-receiver and
transmitter on one light bar-and
gave directions to have Blatchford
await Eaton in the hall below.
Eaton was distinctly frightened by
the revelation he Just had-had of San
tones clear, implacable reasoning re-
garding him; for none of the blind
mans deductions about him had
been wrong-all had been the exact,
though incomplete truth. 1t was
clear to him that Santoine was close
much closer even than Santoine
himself yet apprenticeship knowing
Eaton's identity; it was even prob
able that one single additional fact
the discovery. for instance. that Miss
Davis WAS the source of the second
telegram received by Eaton on the
train-would reveal everything to
Santoine. And Eaton was not certain
that Santoine, even without any new
information, would not reach the
truth unaided at any moment. So
Eaton knew that he himself must act
before this happened. But so long as
the safe in Santone's study was kept
locked or was left open only while
someone was in the room with It, he
could not act until he had received
help from outside; and he had not
yet received that help; he could not
likely to come.
AS his mind reviewed, almost in
simultaneously, these considerations
he glanced again at Harriet; her
eyes, this time met his, but she looked
away Immediately. AS he went
toward the door. she made no move
to accompany him. He went out with
out speaking and closed the inner and
the outer doors behind him; then he
went down to Blatchford.
For several minutes after Eaton
had left the room, Santoine thought
In silence.
"Where are you, Harriet?" he
asked at last.
She knew it was not necessary to
answer him, but merely to move so
that he could tell her position; she
moved Slightly, and his sightless eyes
shifted at once to where she stood.
How did he act?" Santoine asked.
She reviewed swiftly the conversa-
ton, supplementing his blind apper-
ceptlons of Eaton's manner with what
she herself had seen.
what have been your impressions
Of Eaton's previous social condition,
Daughter?" he asked. You have
talked with him, been with him-both
on the train and here: have you been
able to determine what sort of people
he has been accustomed to mix with?
Have his friends been business men?
Professional men? Society people?'
The deep and unconcealed note Of
trouble in her fathers voice startled
her. in her familiarity with every tone
and every expression. She answered
his question: II don't know, Father"
81 want you to find out"
''In what way?"
you must find q way. ! shall tell
Avery to help" He thought for sew
eral moments, while she stood walt
ing. 1--WE must have that motor and
the men in 1t traced, Of course. Har-
riet. there are certain matters-corre-
spOndence which Avery has been
looking after for me; do you know
what correspondence I mean?"
"Yes, Father."
81 would rather not have Avery
bothered with 1t just now l want him
to give his whole attention to this
present inquiry. You yourself will
assume charge Of the correspondence
of which ! speak, Daughter"
yes, Father. Do you want any
thing else now?"
Not of you send Avery to me-"
Ito be continued)