Frederic Arnold Kummer

“ He seemed in the grasp of something uncanny, something inhuman, in spite of its very human cries. With a shudder he sprang to his feet, unable to locate the missing electric torch, and shaking the shrieking figure from him, plunged toward the window by which he had entered. It was not alone the surprise, the nameless terror of the thing, that sent Duvall headlong from the room. He fully realized that the noise of the encounter, the shrieks of his assailant, would quickly bring the other inmates of the house to the room. ”

“ Grace Duvall said good-by to her husband that morning with very little enthusiasm. She was not jealous of him, she was too sensible a woman, and trusted him too fully for that. But his sudden interest in Ruth Morton, the charming motion picture star, seemed rather incomprehensible to her. Of course she suspected he was working on a case which concerned the girl although Duvall had neither affirmed nor denied it. But she felt lonely, and perhaps a trifle out of sorts, and found her solitary breakfasts, luncheons, dinners, a little trying. So often before, she and Richard had worked together. ”

“ The left-hand apartment on this floor had as its tenant a Miss Norman. To Grace's delight, she had scarcely rung the bell, when the woman she had been following appeared, wearing a flowered kimono.
She looked at Grace keenly, suspiciously, but with no sign of recognition. Whether she did not know her, or merely pretended not to do so, Grace was unable to say. After all, it made little difference. Having now located the woman, it was only necessary to get away, upon some pretense or other, and telephone to Richard. She felt highly elated.
"What do you want?" the woman asked, quickly. ”

“ Duvall, however, seemed a trifle restless, and Grace observed it.
"What's the matter, Richard?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing." Her husband picked up the morning paper. "They are still looking for the woman in that Marsden case, I see," he remarked.
"Do you know, my dear," Grace said, "I sometimes think that you made a mistake in coming down here to the country to live. Your heart is really in New York, and every time there is a murder case, or a bank robbery, or a kidnapping up there, you are restless as a hen on a hot griddle until the mystery is solved. ”

“ But what Grace saw, in addition to this, filled her with queer misgivings. Beside her husband in the cab was a woman—very beautiful woman, whom Grace had no difficulty whatever in identifying as Ruth Morton. And she also noticed, in the brief moment that elapsed before the taxi shot toward the Avenue, that the woman seemed to be in tears, and that Richard leaned over with the utmost solicitude and affection and clasped her hand in his. For the first time in her life, Grace Duvall was actually jealous. ”

“ I hope that you will consent to come to New York and take charge of the matter at once. I am returning this afternoon, as soon as I can get a train. Can you not return with me? As for the matter of expense, I place no limit upon it. There is nothing I would not sacrifice, to save my daughter from the fate they have threatened. Think what it would mean, Mr. Duvall. A young, beautiful, innocent girl, scarcely more than a child, to go through life with her beauty taken from her, made hideous by some fiendish device, blinded and scarred by acid, her features crushed—gashed by some sudden blow. ”

“ This woman was evidently far more clever, more subtle than he had imagined. He realized now that she had in all probability not taken the drug he had given her in the dressing room of the theater, that she had seen his effort to examine the contents of her handbag, that her weakness, her call for a stimulant of some sort had been but clever acting, and that she had purposely sent him into the drug store in order that she might escape. ”

“ Duvall, after having satisfied himself that Ruth Morton was safely installed in her suite of rooms at the hotel, came down to the lobby to await the arrival of Mrs. Morton.
The unexpected meeting with Grace caused him the utmost anxiety. He appreciated fully her reasons for having come to see him, and yet he deeply regretted her coming. The enemies of Ruth Morton were far too clever, too shrewd, he feared, not to take advantage of her mistake, and by means of it, trace him at once to his present address. A complete disguise became an immediate necessity. ”

“ And yet, to the utter amazement of them both, there lay on the floor of the room, near its center, a square white envelope, addressed in typewriting to Ruth Morton.
Duvall sprang forward and seized it with an exclamation of astonishment. It bore the same seal, in the same black wax, and upon it was the same semi-circular row of indentations. He tore the letter open. Its typewritten message was brief but significant. "Only twenty-seven days more," it read. The grinning death's head seal seemed to Duvall's astonished eyes even more terrifying than before. ”

“ From a nearby table came the voice of a woman, evidently a great admirer of Ruth Morton.
"I tell you," she said, "that new film that she finished last week, An American Beauty, is going to be a knockout. She's the swellest thing on the screen. Got 'em all faded, I think."
"Think so?" questioned one of her companions. "I'm pretty strong for Helen Ward, myself."
"Ruth Morton won't last," remarked a third, in a petulant voice.
"Course she'll last. Say—ain't that a bear of a title? An American Beauty. She always seems like a beautiful big rose, to me." ”

“ The maid, seeing no reason to do otherwise, brought it to the girl as she sat at the table. Mrs. Morton, who had been at the rear of the apartment, hurried in as she heard the sound of the doorbell, but by the time she had reached the dining room, Ruth had already opened and read the message. She sat staring at a bit of yellow paper, her face pale and drawn.
"What is it, dear?" Mrs. Morton cried, hurrying to her side.
Ruth picked up the telegram and handed it to her mother.
"Another threat," she said, quietly. "These people, whoever they are, seem to be in deadly earnest." ”

“ Duvall thanked the man for his information and made his way to the street. Something at least had been gained. The person who was hounding Ruth Morton was a woman.
By this he was not at all surprised. He had felt for some time that Ruth's enemy was, in all probability, some jealous and envious movie actress who, herself unsuccessful, resented the youth and beauty of her successful rival. He called a taxi and directed the driver to take him out to the studio of the company with which Ruth was connected. Here, in all probability, was to be found the woman he sought. ”

“ The grinning death's head seal was appended in lieu of a signature, as before.
A feeling of resentment swept over the detective. It seemed that these people acted as they saw fit, with supreme indifference to the fact that he was on their trail. Never before had he felt his skill so flouted, his ability made so light of. And yet, as usual, the message had apparently been delivered in such a way as to make tracing it impossible.
"Still at it, it seems," Mr. Baker remarked. "This thing has got to stop, and at once. I don't propose to let anybody make a monkey of me." ”

“ Mr. Baker expostulated, "she may be in immediate danger. At any moment something may happen that would ruin her beauty, and incidentally, ruin us as well. She is our star attraction."
"I do not think the danger is immediate," Duvall replied gravely. "All the threats so far received set thirty days as the period within which the attack is to be made. Only three days have passed, so far. And in addition, Miss Morton is being very carefully guarded."
"She certainly shall be while she is here at the studio," Mr. Baker exclaimed. "But, man, something ought to be done—at once." ”

“ Duvall replied. "You can see for yourself that even a tall man standing on the window sill below, would find not only his hands, but even his head, far below the sill of this window, nor could anyone so support themselves, without something to hold on to. But all that is beside the question. The people in the apartment below are friends of Mrs. Morton's, a middle-aged man and his wife, with two young children. They are eminently respectable people, and quite above suspicion." ”

“ The telephone bell rang, and she went to answer it, thinking that Ruth might for some reason have called her up.
Over the wire came a thin, queer voice.
"Beauty is only skin deep," it said. "A breath may destroy it." After that, silence.
Mrs. Morton made a frantic effort to learn the number of the station from which she had been called, but without success. In a rather depressed state of mind, she made her way to the train.
It was half past eight at night when she arrived in Washington, and she at once called up Richard Duvall on the telephone. ”

“ The girl looked at herself in a small mirror affixed to the side of the car.
"Oh," she exclaimed. "I look terrible. These people are right, it seems. Three more weeks of this persecution and my looks would be quite gone. Mr. Edwards told me only this morning that he had never seen me look so bad." There were tears in her eyes.
Duvall realized that she spoke the truth. The effect of the strain upon her nervous system, the brutal shocks of the past two days, the horror of the experience of the night before, had wrought havoc with the girl's beauty. ”

“ Morton began.
Stapleton looked up from the letter.
"When I spoke," he said, "I had a certain man in mind. He is not a detective, in the usual sense of the word. You can find plenty of those, of course, but, while they are useful enough in the detection of criminals of the ordinary sort, they would probably have very little success in an affair such as this. The man I had in mind is a brilliant criminal investigator, one whose services I have more than once been obliged to make use of in matters of a personal nature. ”

“ Duvall burst into a laugh, and rising, went over to his wife and kissed her.
"For heaven's sake, Grace," he said, "don't be silly. I'm not interested in motion picture actresses."
"You weren't, I'll admit, nor in motion pictures either, until recently, but perhaps you have changed. I could understand any man being fascinated by a girl like Ruth Morton."
Duvall did not pursue the question. It was a hard and fast rule between them not to discuss his professional work. And Mrs. Morton had made it a point that he should confide in no one, not even his wife. ”

“ Get on the box, with the chauffeur, and point out the place to him."
"Yes, sir." A moment later they had started on their way uptown.
Knowing as he did Grace's impetuous nature, Duvall could only conclude that her pursuit of the woman had led her into some trap. What danger she might at this moment be facing, he could only surmise. The apartment building, when they finally reached it, presented a grim and forbidding appearance. Not a light broke the darkness of any of its windows. The drug store on the opposite corner, too, was closed for the night. The whole locality was dark and silent. ”

“ As she sat pondering the matter, Nora came into the room, with Ruth's dust coat and parasol in her hands. Mrs. Morton beckoned to the girl, then spoke to her in a low voice.
"Nora," she said, "Miss Ruth received a letter this morning, from somebody who is envious of her beauty and success. I pretended to make light of the matter, but there may be something back of it. I want you to watch her carefully while you are away from the house. Be on your guard every moment of the time. Don't let anyone come near her. They might try to throw acid, or something of the sort. ”

“ Duvall," remarked Mrs. Morton, quietly, "but when you consider that our apartment is on the fourth floor, that one of the windows of the room was closed, and the other only open a few inches, and that the blank wall of the opposite house is at least ten feet away, I fail to see how what you suggest is possible."
Her words filled Duvall with surprise. If what his caller said was true, the case might have elements which would make it more than usually interesting.
"Has your daughter any enemy, who might envy her her success, and wish to deprive her of it?" he asked. ”

“ He is looking for a young woman in the finishing department. Miss Marcia Ford. Has she come in yet?"
"No," replied the bald-headed man, gravely shaking hands. "She is not here this morning. It is rather surprising, too, for she usually is on time."
"What sort of a looking woman is she?" Duvall inquired.
"Oh—a rather insignificant looking girl of about twenty-five. Small, slender, not very prepossessing, but clever—enormously clever. One of the best film cutters we have. I should be sorry to lose her."
"Light blue eyes, and light hair," Duvall questioned. ”

“ Her purpose took her to a private banking house in Broad Street, upon the wide entrance doors of which was inscribed the name John Stapleton & Co. She asked to see Mr. Stapleton. John Stapleton was a man of wealth and influence in the financial world, and Mrs. Morton's husband had at one time been one of his most trusted employees. Now that Ruth had become to some extent a capitalist, it was to Mr. Stapleton that the care of her savings had been entrusted. Mrs. Morton felt the utmost confidence in both his sincerity and his judgment. ”

“ Can you imagine anything more terrible?"
Duvall thought for moment of his own lovely child, now almost three years old, and shuddered. Bank burglaries, thefts of jewels, seemed relatively of small importance compared with such a situation as this. His feelings of chivalry rose. He felt a strong desire to help this young girl.
"Here is her picture," Mrs. Morton continued, taking a photograph from her handbag and extending it to Duvall.
The latter gazed at the charming features of the young actress, and nodded.
"She is lovely—exquisite," he murmured. "I don't wonder you feel as you do. ”

“ Baker, that Miss Marcia Ford, the film cutter, had reported for work, filled Duvall with astonishment. He had expected nothing of the sort, so convinced was he that the girl in question was the one they were looking for, the one who had been persecuting Ruth Morton, the motion picture star, with her threats.
He rose from his seat, in Mr. Baker's office at the studio, and turned toward the door. "If Miss Ford has reported for work," he said, "I had better take a look at her at once. If she is the woman who escaped from the cab, last night, I shall have no difficulty in recognizing her. ”