Henderson daily dispatch. (Henderson, N.C.) 1914-1995, 1939-11-10
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PRESS ASSOCIATION
CHAPTER FORTY TWO

LANCY'S GAZE seemed to liol3
my eyes for hours, though knew
it really was only an instantane-
GUS glance. I could hardly control
myself enough to place the pencil
point on the break in the sole. It
wasn't necessary. The print had
served it's purpose.
1 had found the fieeting odor Of
that awful night!
Not only had I found it, but
had recognized it for what it was.
Spice from Old Herb Gardens, or
some such thing, was the name it's
creator had bestowed upon it, and
every store had carried it the
Christmas before. Why I hadn't re-
membered it before, I couldn't
imagine. And, also, why hadn't I
smelled it on Alan before this Late
hour?
There are just two answers to
those two questions. The first:
Well, my memory definitely isn't so
good as I have always thought it..
And second: Alan is so tall that
1 hadn't been near enough to his
hair to catch the faint scent which
was barely distinguishable.
Lancy scarcely waited for A1an's
negative shake of the head before
he spoke crisply: y.
THANK you. You have all been
very patient. I want to ask you,
Murray, some questions about Miss
Newcomb. Will you come to the
office with us, please? Miss Cor
don, will you continue taking
notes?
The compression Of Lancy's lips
into a grim line and the sternness
of his voice told me he knew what
I had found. Poor Josie! Was she
to suffer the agony of hearing Alan
accused of murder?
But the detectives tact sur
mounted that difficulty. His:
"You will excuse Mr.. Murray for
a few moments, Miss Peake," eff
fectually prevented her from COM
ing to the office, as was sure had
been her intention.
'I'll be with you in a moment, 4"
Lancy said, and turned aside to
speak to Haines at the door, while
the chief, Alan and I entered the
Office.
The chiefs face was hard and
determined. He motioned me to my
place at the table and Alan into a
chair alongside. His voice was gruff
IS he said:
Captain Lancy is the one who
wants to ask the questions. Well
wait. for him."
1t seemed to me that Alan should
have suspected something, but his
face was placid as ever, as he re-
Piled:
"Okay, chief. I'm glad to help if
I can"
Chief Forrest gave him a sharp
glance at that, but made no further
remark until Lancy came in. They
must have exchanged some sort Of
glance, for the chief grunted out:
Nothing" and subsidized again into
silence. N@4ss .Is
Lancy walked straight to- his
chair and laid a loosely wrapped
parcel on the table. His eyes looked
Alan up and down for the longest
minute I ever lived through. Then
he barked rather than spoke.
Murray, why didn't you admit
that the footprint is yours ?"
Alan bobbed up out of his chair
and back into it again like an old
fashioned jack-in-the-box
ut isn't mine"
The establishment depicted by
both face and voice at Lancy's
charge just had to be genuine. No
one on hearing such an accusation
could so counterfeit an emotion.
"And I suppose you'll say this
shoe isn't yours, too?" Lancy made
a lightning move failed to follow.
The parcel was gone. On his hand,
extended toward Alan, was a worn
shoe.
Alan's face was a picture. He
can't be very bright. don't mean
that he is simple, but certainly his
mind doesn't work with the clarity
and speed of-NeaPs, for instance.
He Just sat there, his face getting
whittier and more worried every in
slant. No one spoke. He had to
break the silence.
"It looks like mine," he admitted.
Lancy rose from his chair, pick
ing up the print which he had laid
down with the parcel. He turned
the shoe over and held the two be-
fore Alan.
"It IS mine, but-but-I didn't
know it. Honest, didn't" Truth