Barred Sevens

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LXXI, Issue 13111, 1 April 1943, Page 7

Barred Sevens

W*Z* locked. David ran dO °L other side and tried light; stared. edC the table were carrots, of them already of water. A cold P*[ ad been dragged to the ** Ze broken, and someigS egging PUP new mto i,Te rolled over at David's m t ro-t which he, *# gone after when no one

<* Where's Jane?" David's : fl Cke. m« Rider never *! have left things this way. ,

Sd-tilted, his shaggy ears 5!« was a little dog, lonely eyes tried to tell his

M followed Jimmy into the loom. & *e big rock fireplace, 1 split to glowing embers. Monday's Nyack paper was L the couch. There was an itofMattilaßreanu's s.uieide. jjleadlines'Questioned, "Does, this toCarlie Breanu's murder ?"

f'lue!" Daved shouted. "Jane—" Lie answered. Ly whined, tugging at David i ; Hf.wanted David to go upI And David's heart seemed-to Ltirough space. He followed the

CHAPTER' THIRTY-FIVE

to wasn't a sound anywhere, a, Timmy was making for Jane's i, David, with trembling fingers, Uon the light, and gazed in, ired hair wet over his brow.

p wasn't dreaming. The Tittle 'id white room had been savs torn up; bed sheets trailing, fc ripped from their place in ktet; a box of powder upset on it dresser, and a perfume bottle sta on the floor. The faint fraise carried through the havoc. Mied little ornaments were tod on the rose rug.

k Timmy was sniffing in a corfie crept out, his hair bristling Mis back. He growled. W went slowly '-'toward that tar, Ms hands clenched.

ton? beside the window lay a ?dog he had never seen before. bad been strangled horribly. fas his paws lay a bone which 11 * friends he haW ever known Farland bent grimly at his collar. Engraved on it *"Grouch," and in smaller let"George Givens, Evergreen %Haverstraw.''

N looked up and tried to tell This Grouch was his guest, IfWenfl.hfi meant to say to Jitter they had played toJ a Met man had come into )*», and. Timmy had' slipped ™a, but Grouch had fought " 6 f inch up the stairs. "■'were*.. Grouch, with a M> andjtalked out of the through the house. j. ( 5 else had been touched. He *» ttat Sweitzer had been , oat must have been SweitParked down the road. *B? «f 6t Ms hands on Sweit ' .' do §s who protected Mijer? WaS Jane? And Wt the telephone, and. irooper Ed Blagden. The S9 ' Voice --reached, him. house,-- said David. not-here. p m afraid C appenea -" fPoke curtly. -Hold

\Vj° a ke<i at Timmy. *h*» '****** Jane k Mi ' =°Pened. the kit>kt m ou tside, dashed S y _ back, barkN*» n - ' you make to ° W Davi * shut him in the C without sound ' Slde t 0 a window artai ns We re half drawn; there - N She-was things out for ere sh e v niSht ' she didn>t A H ent ' what anybody Si 4 Dey Garr -on had i?"S held tilne at least, '%,W a witath ' well, she must

By MARYSE RUTLEDGE

do as he said. She supposed, for this Monday anyway, she was virtually a prisoner in the guest room of his apartment at Rio House. They hadn't trusted her to go /back to her own place»

Someone knocked. They wouldn't leave her alone, Selinda resolutely came in, dragging Doremus by the hand. Selinda's dark eyes flashed, and her soft brown face was brightened by a generous application of Fan's lap rouge..

"Doremus never aimed to make you grieve, Miz Rubley," she said in her husky tones. "He was mighty fond of Mistuh Br'nu. But I tol' him if he.evah sez you did what he fuhst- say you did. I won't marry him. And he done re-considah. You nevah did it. Why, Mistuh Br'nu wuz yo' man.' Fan rose, holding to the back of her chair. She looked very tall in black. "You ask Miz Rubley to pahdon you," Selinda commanded.

Doremus sidled away from Fan. "Ih.'m sorry, Miz Rubley," he mumbled. "When Ah saw poah Mistuh Br'nu layin' daid, Ah went kinda wild."

"It's all right, Doremus," Fan said wearily. "Mr Garrison is taking care of me." The tears came at last, misting her blue eyes.

'Stop botherin' Miz Rubley. You get out of heah." Selinda didn't need to tell Doremus to get out. He backed from the room. Selinda followed him triumphantly, calling oyer her shoulder, "I'll bring you a li'l drink."

But it was McGuire, Garrison's man, who brought in a tray with highballs. Behind came Bill Wright and Fan's host.

Garrison looked refreshed after a shower and a change. Bill, his left arm in a sling looked as if he hadn't seen a bed or a razor•for several rounds of the clock. He had motored out to Greenwich and insisted on an audience with Swift, Carlie's father. He had just returned.

"We've got to ask you a few questions, Fan," Garrison said gently. "Tell us everything you know about Carlie Swift Breanu, and make it snappy," he began. "You two girls once roomed together; she must have talked sime."

Fan drank her highball, and gazed at the bottle on the tray. Garrison's gray eyes, were steely. "This," he emphasised quietly, "may be a matter of life and death. Think back —" "I gave David Farland the letters she left,' Fan began, she sat rigidly, flanked by the two men. . She said slowly, "Carlie never really took me into her confidence. But one night she broke down, and cried. It was the night"—Fan's - voice faltered—"the" night, before she eloped—with Mat. And she knew I loved him." Bill sounded sympathetic. "You've had a raw deal all the way—What did she tell you?" he added sharply. "I've just talked to her father. I'm checking details."

Fan answered slowly. The picture was there of Carlie sobbing. "She'd got into some sort of mess in Greenwich, with a man. There were politics or something to it. But I've told that. And I told about the Sweitzers —seein gthem once when I came in earlier than Carlie expected. They were there."

"Did you connect them with this man in Greenwich?" Garrison questioned. "Did this man ever visit Carlie? Did he have any sort of hold on her?" Bill put in. "I don't know;" Fan answered unhappily. "All I do know is that Carlie said, the night she broke down, that she wished she had never mixed up in what she called a secret prooaganda-movement. She said she had really forfeited her right to be a citizen and a good Christian. She said being an American citizen and a good Christian meant not'hating other races. She said—" Fan gulped down the whisky, "She said we were all too easy-going and we listened to everyone. She said she'd spend the rest of her life undoing her folly. ' "Thanks, Fan. You've helped." Garrison got up and patted her shoulder. "Don't worry. I have a house in Miami. I'm sending Selmda and Doremus there as caretakers. I want you to go down th*re and stay as long as you wish.' (To be continued)