The Kennewick courier-reporter. [volume] (Kennewick, Wash.) 1914-1938, 1934-04-19

inviting. And 1T Kyle were there
Rylie. without detectives logging his
footsteps. She glanced again at the
waiting sleuth across the street. What
If he had overheard Rylie's bitter re-
marks concerning Jim Franklin few
minutes ago? Coupled with the sus.
piciOn with which ne was already re-
garded. that might have been enough
to cause his arrest. It might be better
If they did go away for few days.
.'All right" she decided at length.
"Ill do it. But first must see Mr..
Cardigan. Perhaps he can help Web"
Cardigan? What are you thinking
of. Calls? He's that detective fellow"
| HE isn't detective. Rylie At
least, not police detective. He's the
man who writes those detective stories.
Don't you remember how full the
newspapers were of his exploits last
summer when he solved the murder of
Lila Vale after the police had failed?
If Web is innocent. he could help US
by finding tie real murderer"
'Yes, and If Web is guilty, he'd prob
ably help send him to the electric
chair" added Rylie grimly. Don't
go to him, Calls. I'm afraid 1t would
only make things worse
But in the end. the girl had her way.
She made it stipulation that she
would visit Peter Cardigan in an eff
fort to enlist his sympathies on their
side before she would agree to drive
to Martins Cove. The only change this
required in Rylie's original plan was
later meeting at Westport. 1t was
agreed that Calls should meet him
there at nine O'Clock.
Rylie lost no time in putting his
part of the plan into execution. With
the detectives taxicab following, he
headed, by the shortest route, for the
country. He felt confident of success.
He halted at q gas station and filled his
tank. The taxicab stopped at the drug
store across the street. He already
knew what he would do. An open
road, with the accelerator pressed to
the floor. Wind singing in his ears,
and the taxicab dropped farther and
farther behind, until it was lost from
view. Then side-road, and second
one, twisting and curving until there
was no possibility of finding his trail.
Calls had several hours until she
was to meet Rylie at Westport. She
telephoned Flo and packed her bag
herself, striving all the while to keep
her thoughts away from Rylie. She
couldn't. What II something went
wrong? What II the very fact that he
had given their detective the slip in
tensified the suspicious that were al
ready directed at him? Now that he
was gone. the plan seemed very foolish
to her and she regretted the decision
she had made. But It was too late
now Rylie was already gone. There
would be no way to get In touch with
him until she reached Westport. She
was tempted to phone Flo again and
tell her they had changed their plans.
II they returned home this evening
perhaps nothing would be thought Of
the incident Of the afternoon.
She was still undecided when she
reached Cardigan's apartment. II he
would only help. surely there was
some way to prove Webs innocence.
Web couldn't be a murderer: It was
unthinkable! She chung to that
thought throughout her brief interview
with the novelist. 1t steeled her to
meet the evident suspicion with which
he greeted her visit. There was .
time when she thought he believed her,
when she was tempted to hope that he
might offer his help. But the moment
vanished, and when she left, 1t was
with the hopeless conviction that she
could do nothing more. Peter Cardi-
gan was definitely on the other side.
It seemed to her that 1t took far
longer than the scheduled hour for the
train to reach Westport. Time dragged
unfortunately. Yet it was only quar-
ter of nine when she arrived. She had
half hoped that Rylie would be there
ahead of her, waiting, but he wasn't
But It wouldn't be long. He was al
ways very punctual. She waited on
the platform, her restless eyes seek
ing out the lights Of each passing mo-
tor car, as she heard It's approach.
The minutes licked slowly past. and
still he did not come.
Nine-fifteen-nin hands
Of her watch seemed almost to have
stopped, and still Rylie was missing.
In her anxiety, she conjured up fear.
full pictures Of what might have hap
pened to him. A wreck! Rylie, lying
under 4 twisted mass Of metal, his
white face drawn with pain. Or ar
rested? Facing the grilling examina-
ton of Sergeant Kilday. Perhaps they
had discovered he was trying to run
away. She walked restlessly up and
down the dimly lighted platform, striv-
ing vainly to thrust aside the turmoil
Of her thoughts. Back and forth. she
trudged the platform. It seemed that
her steps were as slow as the dragging
time. Where was Rylie? What had
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