The Bismarck tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, N.D.) 1916-current, 1929-03-13

| Cleo laughed. Harry was afraid
of his shadow. I suppose you know
he had bodyguard? ! used to think
he was dippy on the subject ana
tried to kid him out Of it, wouldn't
let him talk about it-and sure
enough, some one did bump him off
! just as he"
did he mention names3" McMann
| interrupted.
"FIe gave me long song land dance
| when first met him about the
sweetie he had before he fell In love
with me-used to tell me by the hour
about how crazy she was about him,
and how scared he was that she'd try
to get even. But Lord, all men talk
like that about the women they're
through With"
who was the woman you took him
! away from?" McMann persisted.
"He wasn't hard to take" Cleo
laughed. Il gathered he'd been ripe
for picking a long time. But
sorry, Hawkshaw! I'm naming no
names. Just write 1t down that !
don't know her NAME"
She drew on beautiful, silvery
gray glove, smiling at the scowling
detective with wide, topaz eyes. as
she added: i've had number Of
labels pinned on me, first and last,
and probably the Dowager Queen
Pendennis will think up good. hot
new one, but-even Harry Borden,
when he gave me my notice on jan
uary 2, had the grace to say was q
good sport. So long. darling!
I've had a wonderful time. Goodby,
Miss Lester. If were as pretty as
you are Id have grabbed off the
Prince of Wales instead OF poor old
Arty."
When Cleo was gone McMann re-
fused to meet the eyes of the girl
opposite him. making a great ado Of
shuffling his memoranda on the case.
"A good sport" Ruth said softly.
Borden must have been crazy to
ditch a peach like that for Rita Du-
bois." McMann agreed. lowering his
head so that his blush might not be
SO apparent.
Ruth laughed. Maybe Mr.. Borden
was an exception to the rule you fol-
low, Mr.. McMann-he was one gen
tleman who really preferred brunets.
Mrs. Borden is brunei, Martha Man
ming is"
detective Carlson with Miss Man
ming, SIR" Birdwell interrupted.
AS he had done upon the arrival Of
both Rita Dubois and Cleo Gilman,
McMann had the woman shown into
the dead mans private office. while
he conferred briefly in the outer office
with the detective who had brought
her in.
In the brief interval before the de-
tective sergeant's return, Ruth Lester
had opportunity to study the woman
about whom her curiosity had been
raised to an extraordinary pitch-the
woman who might never have been
involved in the investigation Of
Harry Borden's murder II 1t had not
been for Observation-Disclosures.
Ruth saw, a no longer young, but
still lovely woman7-tall, very slender,
graceful. Beneath the brim Of a long
worn but still smart dark blue felt
hat pair of great dark eyes-their
brilliancc heightened by the mascara
which frankly beaded the laShes-
surveyed the room In which her for
mer lover had died. then came to rest
inquiringly upon Ruth.
I'm Ruth Lester. worked here"
Ruth answered the unspoken inquiry,
tactfully avoiding the name Of the
murdered man.
THANK you." Martha Manning
murmured. Then, releasing the full
glory of the voice that Ruth knew
SO well, and which had been thrice
described since Borden had died: Il
am Miss Manning. May I take off
my coat, please?"
Ruth watched her remove the we'll
cut but slightly shabby garment Of
dark blue cloth. trimmed with wosn
black sealskin, revealing q straight
line frock Of silk crepe, almost the
exact shade Of red as the rouge spots
on her thin, heavily powdered cheeks,
and the brilliant salve on her lips.
TOO much makeup" Ruth told her
self, "but somehow it suits her"
X X \
| Miss Manning laid her coat on the
back of the chair which Ruth offered,
then seated herself upon 1t. crossing
her knees, so that one foot swung
free, unconsciously revealing to Ruth
the fact that the meticulously brushed
black suede pumps had been half
soled.
She waited calmly, her black gloved
hands loosely clasped about q small
black leather handbag in her lap, her
face in repose, her dark eyes gazing
steadily at one of the windows that
looked out upon the street.
If she was nervous, apprehenSive
she concealed it admirably. She made
no fluttery movements. did not raise
a hand to pat the scallops Of soft
black hair that outlined her artist
cally made-up face: did not fish II
her handbag for lipstick or compact
with which to add touches to an
already perfect job Of personal adorn-
lnent. Nor did she speak again. She
simply waited. And when ct last Nc
Mann entered the room she greeted
him, in that organ-like contralte
voice, as courteously and calmly Is Il
they were meeting ct q social func-
ton. ,.s.
'.Youre Miss Manning? Martha
Manning?" McMann asked abruptly
when he had seated himself ct the
dead mans desk and was ready with
his inevitable pencil and pad o.
scratch paper.
- an