Coulee City dispatch. [volume] (Coulee City, Wash.) 19??-19??, 1937-08-26
CHAPTER I

49,
values, the heel of Brooke Rey-
burns shoe turned sharply as she
ran across the street. She went
down on one knee just as the traffic
light turned green. She had con-
fused sense of an automobile bear
ing down on her, the screech of
brakes, Of painting cars, of arms
lifting her to the sidewalk.
"Hurt?" a voice demanded.
"I'm all right, really I am. 1t
was my silly heel that threw me-"
she assured breathlessly, even as
she moved her knee experimental
1y. It worked. 1t wasn't broken.
"Why wear such fool heels? If
you're not hurt, why did you
wince?"
The mans voice was husky; his
eyes had a third-degree intentness
which reused little demon of op-
position. Brooke retorted crisply:
eff you insist upon probing the
secrets Of my young life, think
I've skinned my knee"
She thought the man spoke as
she merged in the stream of pass
ers-by. She passed the building to
which she had been hurrying to
keep an appointment when she
crossed the street. She wouldn't 60
in yet, she'd better wait till her
sti1l humping heart quieted be-
fore she entered the offices of Stew
art and Stewart, Attorneys at Law,
she had too much pride to appear
there breathless and shaken. That
had been a narrow escape, not only
for her, but for the man who had
snatched her from the path of that
speeding car, and-horrible thought
she hadn't even said "Thank
you'll"
If only she knew who he was she
could write to him, but he might
have been a stranger passing
through the city whom she never
would see again. In that case she
would have to bear always this
pricking sense of being ashamed of
herself, it would bring her sitting
straight up in bed when she thought
of it at night.
She stopped at flower shop. Its
color and beauty were like a sooth-
ing hand on her snarting con-
science. The air had but a hint of
the crispness of early October.
Overhead steeple clock chimed.
The sound reminded Brooke of her
engagement. She WINGED as she
moved.
After a furtive look about, she
examined her knee. Skinned. She
had known it. Shreds of her silk
stocking chung to the raw flesh. She
WINGED as her lowered skirt scraped
it. Her unknown rescuer need not
fear that she would forget that les
son in hurry, she thought as she
entered the office of the junior part
ner of Stewart and Stewart.
Where was Mr.. Jed Stewart?
! There was an open book on his
large fiat desk. The title fairly
jumped at her.
UNDERWOOD ON WILLS
Brooke's heart did nose-dive.
Did that particular book on that
particular desk mean that Stewart
and Stewart were preparing to con-
test the will in which she had been
named residuary legatee?
Silly, she derided herself, wasn't
the firm executor of the estate of
Mary Amanda Dane? Hadn't Mr..
Tod C4o,,or4 ,,o4;EaJ hor +bo% 4bo
will had been allowed, that she had
acquired fortune, hadn't he asked
her to be at his office today at four?
1t was her late shake-up and this
gloomy room which had started her
imagination on the rampage. Where
it wasn't knotty pine it was walled
with books impressively, if mustily,
bound in calf.
From outside came faint distant
noises in the corridor; footsteps
thudding, scufing, springing past;
the incessant clang of elevator
doors. Inside, ''Tick-tock! Tick
tock!" the wall clock marked time
for the quick procession of the min
utes.
And the minutes were marching
along. Where was Mr.. Stewart?
Was it part of legal procedure to
keep clients in suspense? The Sec
rotary in the outer office had shown
her into this room, had said that she
was expected, that the junior part
ner was in conference but would be
at liberty in few moments.
Restlessly she crossed to the win