Evening star., 1940-10-13

small label pasted on the inside of
the leather covering near the top.
This is the way we identify our
merchandise" he said, pointing to
the tiny paper rectangle which bore
the name of the shop. Since the
sheath of the dagger which you
wish me to identify is missing, I
can only tell you that four days ago
1 sold dagger just like that one
to Stephen Ballard's nephew, Milo
Shelton"
Are you positive of that?" Storm
asked eagerly.
Quite. AS you undoubtedly
know, the Ballards have been given
a great deal of publicity since they
came to Fairbury and their pictures
have been in the papers several
times. I recognized him at once
when he came into the shop, and I
remembered the sale because he
seemed nervous and preoccupied."
Truth Is the Truth.
would you be willing to iden-
tify him on the witness stand when
the case comes to trial?" Storm
man.
The truth is the truth under all
circumstances, the old man said
with dignity. He looked more like
a mandarin than ever.
Storm thanked him sincerely and
left the shop. He wanted to waste
no time in getting out to Hidden
House. Sheriff Humphries would be
there, he knew, for he had told In
spector Storm his plans over the
telephone the night before Besides,
Storm was eager to confront Milo
Shelton with this evidence against
him.
AS Storm shifted into high gear
and turned his car down the main
street of Fairbury, he thought of
how neatly everything fitted into
the picture-Milo's eagerness to
reach his uncle after the murder,
his quarrel with the older man over
his losses in racing, the threat to
disinherit him, and even Milo's con-
fession that it was he who had
laughed when the lights went out
an admission whose candor now had
a dubious value in Inspector Storms
eyes.
Hidden House-the Ballard sum-
mer residence-Was some distance
away on the outskirts of Fairbury,
but Storm traversed the miles in
the shortest possible time At the
front entrance he brought the car
to an abrupt stop, jumped out, and
raced up the steps. He pushed the
bell impatiently After what seemed
like an interminable interval, the
door was opened by a belligerent
Swedish maid of Viking proper
tions.
We'll, where's the fire?' she
asked pugnaciously. Il suppose
you're another of those policemen
comeing to track mud on my
carpets"
Storm glanced down at his i'm
peccable oxfords, smiled, and de-
cided to let the matter pass.
Where is Sheriff Humphries?"
he asked quitely.
"In the library" she answered in
no way mollified. Hes been nosing
around making fingerprints all
morning. And he left word that he
was not to be disturbed" She folded
her arms and glared at Storm.
20. K, won't bother him just
yet. Can you tell me where I'll find
Milo Shelton?"
Mr.. Milo is in his room"
VERY we'll, tell him I'd like to
see him. Or wait; on second thought,
I'll go to his room myself. Will you
be kind enough to show me the
way?"
Hmm. Tramping all over the
house. No privacy" the maid
mumbled, half to herself, but most
ly for Storms benefit. Neverthe-
less, she turned and led the way
down a long corridor.
There it is" she said ungracious-
ly, stopping before an oak paneled
door
Thanks a lot. Miss-what did
you say your name was?"
ulul Say. buI IL dulud
Svenson, if that's any concern of
yours" She shifted haughtily.
Storm raped on the door. There
was no reply. He knocked more
loudly, but still no response came
from the silent interior. The de-
tective turned the knob and went in
The sun was streaming brightly
through the French windows that
opened out on a green terrace. A
bag of golf clubs leaned carelessly
against the mantelpiece. But al
though Milo Shelton was present,
he did not come forward to greet
the inspector. For he was lying
quitely across the huge four-poster
bed. And he was unmistakbly dead.
Tomorrow, different technique is
uced in tho murder of Mi1o Cbp1tOp