“ALL AT SEA”

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXVI, Issue 3400, 30 July 1932, Page 6

“ALL AT SEA”

U n n By CAROLYN WELLS.

1-4 n (Copyright.) U n

CI IA PTE RXLV (Con timed.)

“You’re Torn! of them?" Stone said, as she fingered the short skirts and long, slim legs of the doll. “I love ’em,” she declared. “As a baby I was always crazy about dolls. 1 had dozens of them, though none, of course, except cheap ones. And even as I grew older I didn’t outgrow my love for dolls. Then, a few years ago, these began to be the rage. I have two or three, but they are not the expensive kind like these. You know, they make imitations that are quite dear, but nothing of this sort is made over here. These are all French dolls, or imported ones, anyway.” As Myrtle talked, she caressed and played with the dolls, and Stone watched her curiously. Yet it was only the admiration of a child who loved dolls, mingled with the natural feminine delight in exquisite fabrics and harmonious colours. “P'elton gave you one of these dolls, I hear,” he said. “Was it as pretty as these?” “Beautiful!” Myrtle turned rapt eyes to him. “It was the one Mr Folsom loved best. Mr Pelton let me take my choice and so I took that one. Oh, it is beautiful.” “Will you let me see It, Myrtle? Where is it?” “In my room. Yes, sir, I’ll get it.” She went away and returned with the doll. “This is my hour off,” she explained. “Mr Felton said he didn’t mind if I came in here and played with the dolls, so long as I don’t touch anything else. This is the one he gave me. Isn’t she lovely?” Fleming Stone took the doll in his hands and stared at It. For a moment he was speechless. Then he said: “Did you tell me this was Mr Folsom’s favourite?” “Yes, sir. I think it reminded him of somebody he loved. For he talked to it and said: ‘You’re mine—you shall be mine again—and forever!’ or some such words as that. Oh, yes, he loved this one best.” And Stone saw that the doll was the very image of Madeline Barron. (To be Continued).

“That’s a big question, sir,” Ross said, speaking very seriously. “Too big for me to answer. By which I mean that, though I saw a few things now and then, or heard a few words now and then, I haven’t enough real knowledge or real reason for what you might call suspicion. If I had I should have told of it at first, sir.” “Yes, that’s right. I say, Ross, you don’t think it was one of his lady friends did it?” “Killed him?” Ross looked amazed. “Good Lord, no, sir! Why there wasn’t any of ’em down here.” “Oh, you mean his chorus girl friends. I suppose he had lots of those.” “Not so many, but now and then one. He was no saint, Mr Folsom wasn’t.” “No, though his sister thinks he was.” “She does that, Mr Stone. Miss Folsom thinks Mr Garrett was almost a Puritan, and —he wasn’t, sir.” “No,” agreed Stone. “Well, go along, Ross, I see you can’t help me out. Call down for some ice water, will you, and tell them to send that fat child with it.” “Tubby? Yes, sir.” Ross did Stone’s bidding and departed, and shortly the rotund bellboy appeared with the water. “You wanted me special, Mr Stone?” he asked, with the air of importance that he loved to assume. “What I’m getting at is this, Tubby,” the detective said, straightforwardly. “I want to get all the sidelights I can on Mr Garrett Folsom. I’ve learned a lot from his friends and from the police and all that. But there may be some bit of information you can give me that nobody else could. Think so?” “I wish I could, sir, but I’m darned if I can think of anything. Got anything particular in mind?” “No, I’m just floundering. Did you see Mr Folsom when he arrived here? When he first came in?”

“Yes, sir, I did. I was near the desk and I seen him arrive. Oh, yes, he came in very important like —” “Swaggering?” “Not fool swaggering, sir. Just like a man who’s big and knows it. No shoddy work. And his man, Ross, you know, looking after everything quiet and proper.” “I suppose you mean he made an entrance such as one of the best people might be expected to do.” “Just that, Mr Stone. I know all about entrances; I’ve seen thousands.” Tubby stood waiting, hoping be could tell something of importance, but utterly at a loss to do so, and well knowing that nothing fictitious would go with this man. “Well, that’s that,” Stone informed him. “Did he look about at the people before he went up to his rooms?” “He did just that,” and Tubby saw a chance. “He stood quite a few minutes looking at the crowds in the lounge. He hadn’t been here for some time and he was awful interested.” “Did he notice anybody in particular?” “Well, he did. You see, his own crowd, Mr Neville and those ladies, weren’t around just then, but just as Mr Folsom was about to go up in the elevator the Searses and Barrons came down in the next elevator and Mr Folsom looked at them like he was surprised all to pieces.” “Why," said Stone, “he didn’t know any of them, except Mr Sears, slightly.” CHAPTER XLVI. “Well, I don’t know anything about that,” said the fat bellboy, “but Folsom waited over for another car while he looked at them. They didn’t see him; they were laughing and talking together, hut he couldn’t ’a’ been more kerflummuxed if he’d seen the Old Nick himself.” “Was he unpleasantly surprised?” “I don’t think so, sir. He didn’t seem either glad or sorry, especially, only just struck. That’s all.” “Well, that doesn’t seem to amount to much,” Stone sighed wearily. “Hello, here’s Myrtle. We seem to get clean towels every hour on the hour.” “That isn’t why Myrt shows up so frequent,” Tubby said, and, laughing, he went away. “Myrtle,” the detective said to the chambermaid, “I suppose you knownothing of Mr Folsom that you haven’t told, do you?” “Not a spick-speck,” declared the girl. “Wish I did. I’d be rich if I could answer the question that’s been fired at me ever since the poor man died.” “He was nice to you?” “He was a gentleman, Mr Folsom was. He was nice, if you mean generous with his money and polite-man-nered. But if you mean anything like petting or silly talk, no.” “Still, you only saw him once or twice ?” “That’s all sir, but we girls size up a man in less time than that. And Mr Folsom, he wasn’t the sort to be silly that way. The only silly ways he had was this doll racket. Sh'e looked around at the dolls, still scattered about the room, and going to one of them changed its position to what she deemed a more picturesque pose.