Evening star., 1939-10-29

was standing in the doorway,
his face red, his pale blue eyes popping, his
funny little billy-goa whiskers quivering.
'I-why, l happened to notice what -
what looked like crack at the top of the
highboy, sir" Buck said. fighting for words
and for his breath. Il - knew how much
you thought of this piece. sir, and thought -
thought perhaps it had become unglued. And
when tried it, this - this drawer opened -"
You're lying, Crawford; thought saw
you this morning, spying on me-
Il didn't see nothing" Buck said. Il just
came in to ask Mrs. Tremain for some iodine
for cut on my finger, and ="
Il say you're thief! And I'll see to it
you're punished as thief: that you get the
maximum sentence that the law allows
The old man started for his desk - the
old-fashioned. fat-topped desk where he spent
so much of his time, pasting up his silly
scrapbooks, and tapping slowly, methodically,
on his ancient typewriter. The desk where
the telephone stood. For moment, Buck
stood frozen. He wanted to move. but he
couldn't But his brain was racing.
the old man. Jefferson Oakley was hard as
STEEL and money meant more to him than
anything else in the world. He wouldn't give
away penny even to his grandsons, his only
relatives - young Clint, who wanted to be an
artist. or Hal Bolton, his older brother, crazy
to marry Madge Jameson whose father
owned many broad acres south of the Oakley
estate
Power flowed back into Buck Crawfords
tense body as the old man reached for the
phone 1t was Sunday afternoon, and the two
were alone in the rambling old house. Buck
leaped from the chair murder in his heart and
in his outspread hands.
The old man made queer, choked sound
and lodged behind the desk. Crawford" he
painted Get away from me! Do you hear?
promise you -"
Buck reached across the desk and grabbed
him. Oakley's face was gray as ashes now. and
his lips were queer purplish color.
MOI" he whispered. mo. No."
Buck clipped him on the chin to silence
him, and the old man fell back across the
desk. his failing arms upsetting his paste pot
and sending his papers flying.
Buck was breathing hard as he dragged
Oakley off the desk. The body dropped to the
floor, and something in the fixed stare of the
pale blue eyes made Buck bend down and
listen There was no sound; no movement.
Fear, and the blow to the chin. had stopped
forever the weak old heart.
Dead" said Buck in whisper. The old
coots - dead"
He stood perfectly STILL looking down at
the dead man. He hadn't killed Oakley, not
really, but just the same it was murder. He
must be careful careful -.
The sickness of his right hand attracted
his attention. 1t was smeared with paste from
the overturned bottle on the desk, and he
wiped it off quickly, on tissue from the box
the old man always kept on his desk. He'd
have to be careful a smear of paste on his
clothes might tie him up with with this.
And fingerprints! Everything around the
place would be examined Buck ran to the
bathroom, and with damp towel rubbed the
parts of the highboy he had touched, the
chair, even the doorknobs The money he
left in the secret drawer; if they knew about
it, he didn't want them finding the stolen
money on him.
If they didn't, he could get it later :.