Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-06-26

died, and mother went East to live.
And then Rossiter-he's Uncle Cato 5
son---brought suit--but heavens
h, voice took on n note of mock de.
spair-'if | so on with that suit, I'll
bore YOU as much as I've been bored
Yer since ] can remember"
Grant heard all this. but his eyes
were searching the cabin. A bunk
furnished with blankets, clean anu
folded. A cook stove pots, pans
sl<illets, all shined and polished. ranged
on nails behind the stove; a row of
nondesCript clothes. including two oil.
skin sliCkers; a chest.
Grant stepped over to the chest.
opened 1t.
I'm starting my investigation of
the claim" he said. You might help.
Poke round the place and see If you
can find any papers" And he went
on paving over the chest: Work
shirts. Two white shirts and collars.
But no cravat. Red flannel under
wear. A few spilled .44-caliber revolver
cartridges. but no gun. No papers.
unless you could call ruled writing
pad that He ran his eye over the
clothes hanging against the wall. No
store clothes among them. Two old
Ia =. one furnished with n miners
lamp: two pairs of heavy boots, yellow
with clay But no walking shoes.
Grant spoke so suddenly that Sally
started and turned full round to face
him.
wherever he went Petersen wore
his best bib and tucker. Sleuth-hound
Hollister. the engineer-detective, de.
duces that from the following circum-
stance. namely: There are white
shirts. indicating that he owned store
clothes. There are no store clothes.
ANY papers,"
Not a scrap so far"
X * X
GRANT glanced again round the
- cabin; and his eye stopped on the
stove. He raised the front set of lids.
He burned the papers" he said.
And he di int get supper here last
night. II he ate at all. he ate cold"
Sally looked into the stove. On a
bed of ashes lay the black foam of
burned paper.
Grant dipped into the mess. How
ii you sign your telegram to Peter
SEM"
Sarah Flint"
Here it is. 1 suppose" He held out
yellow corner burned at two edges,
il bore only the letters "-ah Flint. "
He got your telegram. And he went
away. In his good clothes. But he
didn't pack up his things. He left in
hurry. The question is-will he come
back"
The girls eyes grew grave.
Ibid he wear a beard or was he
smooth shaven?" she asked.
Bright idea exclaimed Grant. He
wore a mustache. Look for razors,
shaving things in general.
No razor, no toilet articles, though
they searched the whole place.
HE went in a hurry. And he isn't
Things never turn out as you eX-
pect," he treasured her. But, had she
known him better, she would have
in his voice its first note OF In.
sincerity. The handful of ore seemed
to burn in his pocket like stolen goods.
and he wondered If he should tell her
what he had seen last night. But the
look in her eyes restrained him. Why
hurt her-unless he was sure?
After a pause, Grant fiicked his
cigarette over the ledge. And: I'm
going 20 inspect the tunnel-if it's In
shape to be entered. Coming along?
he asked casually.
why. Of course, I'm coming along"
she said.
"Then you must dress the part.
While you're putting on Petersen's
cleanest sIicker and boots and hat,
I'll look over the papers-if you
brought any"
Papers about the mine?"
'Yes-all I want is the report to the
court on the state of things when
they closed it"
She ran into the cabin, returned,
and, us this it?" she said.
Yes" said Grant, after one swift
inspection.
when she again emerged from the
cabin. he looked up with a grave, alb
sorbed face which broke into smile
at the figure she cut in Petersen's
long slicker, his most shocking hat.
his rubber boots.
He donned Petersen's other slicker.
the hat with the lamp and Petersen's
leather boots.
Take my electric TORCH" he said.