The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1934-06-01

mad fallen in the fire, been flcked into
the turn-up of his own trousers, into
a pocket. That cunning scoundrel had
secreted it in his mouth, slipped it in
side his collar. It was in his attache
case. It must be. He had missed it
In the former searches.
Westminster recorded the three
quarters with its broken inconsequent
phrase.
He turned to the horrid business
with the body and now his mind began
TO race and dance Historically. It
would not keep to the matter in hand.
1t busted itself frantically with hun
dreds Of futile ideas. He would be late
Tor the theatre. Would the caretaker
investigate the lighted room? Perhaps
1t had fallen in the fire. He seized the
poker and, in the midst of raking
among the hot ashes, the certainty
came to him that 1t must be In his al
tache case. Fool! Why hadn't he
searched thoroughly before? He OPEN
ed it feverishly on the table, taking
each envelope, each packet of notes sep
arately, and, when they had been
scrutinized, throwing them loose on the
floor.
John Aske was grinning at him.
Quarter past eight chimed. Fool!
Why had he wasted precious time
vital time-on doing what he had done
before? Was it under the dead mans
feet? Wa he sitting on it? He must
hurry, hurry, hurry. Late for the the
alter. Would the caretaker investigate?
Under the carpet? Caught in the folds
OF the hearth rug? He ran to the win
dow. flung it open, and pulled madly
at the bars.
Firm as a priS-b-r-r-h.
He shambled back to the hearth over
the rug Uttered with scattered notes
and something arrested him, pulled
him up as if he had ben shot.
He bent down. On one of the notes
lying on the rug was a curious dusty
imprint. He stared at it dazedly. It
was the unmistakable impression of a
key. John Aske's grin was wider than
before.
Like a terrier at a rat hole he cast
himself down among the derelict pack
cts and furraged furiously, breaking
them open and scattering them wide.
A long while after he ran to the body
and shook it. Where is it, you damn
ed scoundrel? Scum of a black-mailer,
give it up"
Then he collapsed in the chair sud-
denly weak and trembling and set to
counting the possibilities on his fin
gers. lone, on the table; two, on the
floor; three, lodged as it fell; four, in
the fire."
He left the task as suddenly with the
thought that he would be late for the
theatre-it was then past ten-and,
pushing the table aside, began to haul
at the carpet, tearing it from the tacks
which held it down.
He was sobbing and between his sobs
he spoke jerkily aloud. "Of course, it's
here. Why didn't I think of it before
or-or is it on top Of the filing cab
met? Then he stopped frozen, his
glance on the body of John Aske, cold
and menacing. He got to his feet.
It'll teach you to laugh at me you
devil" he said, and reached for the
poker.
An extract from the Evening Adver-
tiser of the day following:
&C. The case abounds in the
most extraordinary details. Every piece
Of furniture in the room had been NOV
ed from its place. Even the floor car
pet had been taken up. Uttered every
where were one pound notes to the
amount of some thousands of pounds
and an absolutely new dress shirt was
lying crumpled in the fireplace.
"Ihe body, which has been identi-
fled as that of J. Aske, a bookmaker's
assistant, had been savagely maltreated
and the unidentified body, that Of the
man who had hanged himself on the
hat peg, revealed, wedged under the in
NORTHERN GRILL