The Red Seal [60]
her rubber-heeled shoes that she paused. Her hesitation, however, was but brief. Stepping to the bureau, she pulled out a lower drawer and running her hand inside, touched a concealed spring. From the cavity thus exposed she took a small automatic pistol, and with a stealthy glance about her, crept from the room.
The library had been vacant fully an hour when a mouse, intent on making a raid on the candy which Barbara had carelessly left lying loose on one of the tables, paused as a faint creaking sound broke the stillness, then as the noise increased, the mouse scurried back to its hole. The noise resembled the turning of rusty hinges and the soft thud of one piece of wood striking another. There was a strained silence, then, from out of the darkness appeared a tiny stream of light directed full on a white envelope bearing a large red seal.
The next instant the envelope was plucked from the hand holding it, and a figure lay crumpled on the floor from the blow of a descending weapon.
It was closely approaching one o'clock in the morning before Mrs. Brewster stirred from her comfortable bedroom chair. Taking up her electric torch, which she kept always by the side of her bed, she walked quickly down the staircase and into the pitch dark library. Directing her torch-light so that she steered a safe course among the chairs and tables, she approached one of the pieces of carved Venetian furniture and reached out her hand to touch a trap-door. As she looked for the spring she was horrified to see a thin stream of blood oozing through the carving until, reaching the letter "B," it outlined that initial in sinister red.
Scream after scream broke from Mrs. Brewster. She was swaying upon her feet by the time Colonel McIntyre and his daughter Helen reached the library.
"Margaret! What is it?" McIntyre demanded. "Calm yourself, my darling."
The frenzied woman shook off his soothing hand.
"See, see!" she cried and pointed with her torch.
"She means the Venetian casket," explained Helen, who had paused before joining them to switch on the light.
Colonel McIntyre gazed in amazement at the piece of furniture; then catching sight of the blood-stain, he raised the small trap-door or peep hole, in the top of the oblong box which stood breast high, supported on a beautifully carved base.
There was a breathless pause; then McIntyre unceremoniously jerked the electric torch from Mrs. Brewster's nervous fingers and turned its rays of the interior of the casket. Stretched at full length lay the figure of a man, and from a wound in his temple flowed a steady stream of blood.
"Good God!" McIntyre staggered back against Helen. "Grimes!"
CHAPTER XVII
A QUESTION OF H0USE-BREAKING
The genial president of the Metropolis Trust Company was late. Mrs. Brewster, waiting in his well-appointed office, restrained her ill-temper only by an exertion of will-power. She detested being kept waiting, and that morning she had many errands to attend to before the luncheon hour.
"May I use your telephone?" she asked Mr. Clymer's secretary, and the young man rose with alacrity from his desk. Mrs. Brewster never knew what it was to lack attention, even her own sex were known on occasions to give her gowns and, (what captious critics termed her "frivolous conduct") undivided attention.
"Can I look up the number for you?" the secretary asked as Mrs. Brewster took up the telephone book and fumbled for the gold chain of her lorgnette.
"Oh, thank you," her smile showed each pretty dimple. "I wish to speak to Mr. Kent, of the firm of Rochester and Kent."
"Harry Kent?" The young secretary dropped the book without looking at it, and gave a number to the operator, and then handed the instrument to Mrs. Brewster.
"Mr. Kent not in, did you say?" asked the widow. " Who is speaking? Ah, Mr. Sylvester - has Mr. Rochester returned? - Both partners away" . . . she paused . . . "I'll call later - Mrs. Brewster, good morning."
Mrs. Brewster hung up the receiver and turned to the secretary.
"I don't believe
The library had been vacant fully an hour when a mouse, intent on making a raid on the candy which Barbara had carelessly left lying loose on one of the tables, paused as a faint creaking sound broke the stillness, then as the noise increased, the mouse scurried back to its hole. The noise resembled the turning of rusty hinges and the soft thud of one piece of wood striking another. There was a strained silence, then, from out of the darkness appeared a tiny stream of light directed full on a white envelope bearing a large red seal.
The next instant the envelope was plucked from the hand holding it, and a figure lay crumpled on the floor from the blow of a descending weapon.
It was closely approaching one o'clock in the morning before Mrs. Brewster stirred from her comfortable bedroom chair. Taking up her electric torch, which she kept always by the side of her bed, she walked quickly down the staircase and into the pitch dark library. Directing her torch-light so that she steered a safe course among the chairs and tables, she approached one of the pieces of carved Venetian furniture and reached out her hand to touch a trap-door. As she looked for the spring she was horrified to see a thin stream of blood oozing through the carving until, reaching the letter "B," it outlined that initial in sinister red.
Scream after scream broke from Mrs. Brewster. She was swaying upon her feet by the time Colonel McIntyre and his daughter Helen reached the library.
"Margaret! What is it?" McIntyre demanded. "Calm yourself, my darling."
The frenzied woman shook off his soothing hand.
"See, see!" she cried and pointed with her torch.
"She means the Venetian casket," explained Helen, who had paused before joining them to switch on the light.
Colonel McIntyre gazed in amazement at the piece of furniture; then catching sight of the blood-stain, he raised the small trap-door or peep hole, in the top of the oblong box which stood breast high, supported on a beautifully carved base.
There was a breathless pause; then McIntyre unceremoniously jerked the electric torch from Mrs. Brewster's nervous fingers and turned its rays of the interior of the casket. Stretched at full length lay the figure of a man, and from a wound in his temple flowed a steady stream of blood.
"Good God!" McIntyre staggered back against Helen. "Grimes!"
CHAPTER XVII
A QUESTION OF H0USE-BREAKING
The genial president of the Metropolis Trust Company was late. Mrs. Brewster, waiting in his well-appointed office, restrained her ill-temper only by an exertion of will-power. She detested being kept waiting, and that morning she had many errands to attend to before the luncheon hour.
"May I use your telephone?" she asked Mr. Clymer's secretary, and the young man rose with alacrity from his desk. Mrs. Brewster never knew what it was to lack attention, even her own sex were known on occasions to give her gowns and, (what captious critics termed her "frivolous conduct") undivided attention.
"Can I look up the number for you?" the secretary asked as Mrs. Brewster took up the telephone book and fumbled for the gold chain of her lorgnette.
"Oh, thank you," her smile showed each pretty dimple. "I wish to speak to Mr. Kent, of the firm of Rochester and Kent."
"Harry Kent?" The young secretary dropped the book without looking at it, and gave a number to the operator, and then handed the instrument to Mrs. Brewster.
"Mr. Kent not in, did you say?" asked the widow. " Who is speaking? Ah, Mr. Sylvester - has Mr. Rochester returned? - Both partners away" . . . she paused . . . "I'll call later - Mrs. Brewster, good morning."
Mrs. Brewster hung up the receiver and turned to the secretary.
"I don't believe