Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1926-07-04
OVERED TRAILS

ored to read the newspaper while he
waited for the Waterman to make his
rounds.
The crucial part of his work accom-
plished, he found that his nerves
had been under more of ii strain than
he had known. His hands were
shaky, his chin trembled. He got up
and paced the room. but his knees felt
weak and he experienced sense of
nausea.
The steps of the Waterman sounded
along the corridor. A hand tried the
knob.
IAN right" cried Standish, His
voice sounded shrilI to him. and
strange. He felt that the Waterman
could not fail to detect the horrid
significance Of his accents.
"'Scuse me- the Waterman mum
bled. Jus wanted to turn out the
lights" His footsteps shuffled away;
sank into silence.
Standish looked at his watch. 1t
was 10 o'clock. 1t seemed to him
that ages of stress and turmoil had
interviewed since he had waited under
the oak tree at nine thirty.
The Waterman always passed the
eighth floor on his rounds about 10
o'clock.
Standish unbolted the door. let
himself out into the quiet hall and
went softly to the staircase near the
elevators. Here he leaned over and
looked down.
A FTER a few minutes the bent
- figure of the old Waterman came
into view beneath him and shuffied
from the eighth TO the seventh floor,
Five minutes longer and the old
mans hand could be seen on the
railing going from the seventh to the
sixth floor.
The next phase of the plan was
ready for execution. On the eighth
floor. Immediately below-the floor at
which he cleverly had contrived to
have the elevator man see Brent get
off-were the offices of Brent & Hibbs,
attorneys. Brent, the lawyer, was
Irving Brent's brother.
Standish turned and walked softly
back to his office. He left the hall
door open as he went in. took a pair
of old kid gloves from his overcoat
pocket and put them on. Then he
picked up the automatic from the
desk, and with his handkerchief and
the soft gloves polished the. handle
and barrel till he was sure it retained
no tingerprints. He put the pistol in
his pocket and with some difficulty
got Brent up in his arms.
He staggered out of the door and
down the hall with his burden. Half
way to the staircase he stopped and
listened. The elevator was motion
less at the bottom Of the shaft. He
hurried past the elevators and stag
gered down the steps. His burden
was becoming almost unbearably
heavy, but he carried the limp figure
to the entrance door OF Brent &
Hibbs.
Here, with feverish relief. he laid it
down and arranged it in the attitude
that he had previously determined
upon-the left arm underneath, the
right arm extended, the right knee
drawn up. Then he took the pistol
from his pocket and put it in Brent s
right hand, folding the fingers
round it.
After standing for a moment and
examining his handiwork, he wheeled
and flew up to the ninth floor. Once
in his office. he closed and bolted the
door. With minute care he made
sure that the rooms and his desk re-
pened. He carefully mopped his face
and arranged his tie. Then he put
on his topcoat, switched off the lights
and went down the hall to the eleva-
tors and rang the bell.
Standish walked out of the building
and went block alp the street to
where. earlier in the evening, he had
parked his roadster. He climbed in
and started it and made his way to
the garage in the rear Of his apart
ment. Here he put away the car and
then entered the building and went
up in the elevator to his rooms on
the sixth floor.
He had concluded that nervous
fatigue was the principal enemy of
successful execution, so. as part of
his preconceived plan. he went into
the bathroom and took 10 grains of
veronal to make him sleep. He then
undressed and put on d pair of blue
linen pajamas, mOnOgramed on the
sleeve. He still felt wakeful. The
fear of having overlooked some i'm
portant detail hung over him like an
evil bird of prey. He paced the parlor
and the bedroom. going over every
incident again and again in his mind.
Finally he went to the desk, and
from a. lower drawer took out five
SIIltkl CHcCh DOoho VI ulllClSht N'Api .
and a pile of letters, some Of them
carbon copies. He referred to the in
considerable balances shown on the
check stubs and re-read all the letters.
With his acute foresight for every
detail he had seen that 1t would not
do to sell Consolidated Steel Foun-
dries short in his own name, partlcu-
larly at any time Immediately prior
to Brent's demise. Nor would it have
been advisable to make this sale in
one lump or through one broker. 1t
would have been a perfectly usual
business venture, but Standish had
preferred in the circumstances to
follow the old adge and avoid even
the appearance of evil.
A MONTH or so before he had
\ begun liquidatinG all Of his assets.
and the resulting cash he had depos-
tied by mail in about equal amounts
in five banks in different sections of
the East. Each deposit had been
under a different name, and the rea-
son he had advanced in each case
was his intention soon to come to
that town to live.
He then had selected five different
New York Stock Exchange brokers
and at an interval of a day or so be-
tween orders had transferred the
funds from one bank to each broker.
Each of them he ordered in a partic-
ular sum named to sell Consolidated
Steel Foundrtes at the market on a
margin account to as full an amount
as the certified check that he inclosed
would permit.
Into this single throw he had put
every cent he possessed. If the Con
solidated stock went off as he expect.
ed at the news of Brent's death he
would buy at the low prices, close
out his accounts and would have a
snug fortune to invest in gilt-edged
bonds for q luxurious future
He returned the check books and
letters to the drawer, closed and lock
al II Than he wont ioto tho x,ey+