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The Room on the Roof °==<§>=o BywuiPame I - ■ ■ ——i ■ The Story Thus Fur. Nathaniel Harwood, a handsome lawyer of 43, has lo»t most of the big fortune left him and his daughter by his wife. He is prac tically engaged to Mrs. I.ctitla lti-Ik nap, a widow, worth $10,000, 06 Q. Adolph Krom and a "Pro fessor” Utelnman interest him in a motion picture invention they have stolen from their employer, Simon Curlin. Harwood sots them to work in the room on the roof, a retreat above his offices in a Chicago sky scraper Then he installs them in an old factory in Slow- River, Mich , his homo town. There he meets young Elizabeth Malden and falls in love with her. Elizabeth sees old Curlin and his young nephew, Robert Whiteside, ejected t from the factory. Sho picks up a j revolver dropped by Curlin and i leaves it in the shop Whiteside interests her. Elizabeth goes to Chicago as Harwood's secretary and becomes engaged to hitn. Elizabeth finds Curlin and Whiteside trying to break into the safe In the room on the roof, but doesn't have them arrest..! Stelnman disappears ! Krom shows Harwood some pic tures. claims the invention is fin (shed, and demands the lawyer buy him out for $550,000 cash Krom relates that he killed Steln man in a drunken frenzy and bur j led the body in a trunk in the Slow River factory. Harwood pays him $30,000 on account. | The lenses, the key to the Inven tion, nre entrusted to Elizabeth, to hold till the patents are secured. Krom .sees Harwood klHa Eliza beth and is Jealous. Harwood or ders Elizabeth to give hlm_ the lenses, breaking faith with Krom. He wants an expert to pass on their worth.. She gives them up. j Krom phones Elizabeth that he Is confined to his hotel, his eyes affected. She goes there to get | his technical description of the leases, which Is needed to secure the patents. Leaving the room, she finds Robert Whiteside eaves dropping at the door Robert pleads he is there merely to pro tect her. “Nobody even cares about you Rut I care,” he tells her Krom plots with Peter Green. 1 watchman at the Hlow River fac tory. to kidnap Elisabeth Green is ; to phone while Elisabeth is in | Krom's mom, and say that Steln man t« dying in a secluded hut near Slow River. Krom expects Elizabeth will take him to Steln man 4 Returning from lunch. Elizabeth bees Whiteside disappear through a door leading to the room on the roof. Dashing up she hears some one say: "He's dead. Put that down ” Tenth Installment. Who Killed Adolph KroinT The. next instant Bess was in the roof room—and rooted to the floor, her body bending forward a little from the hips, like a runner whom a sudden danger in front has brought to a halt. A great shock •urged through her as her eyes took in a man's body lying sprawled on the floor, face down. There was much blood beside it. The man was Krom. Robert Whiteside was stooping over the body, withdrawing a hand which had, no doubt, felt the prone man’s cheek or pulse. But White side was looking up at his uncle and speaking to him. The old man Btood in an*»wkward, half stooping posture, his mouth open, his leath ery face a .mask of stupidity. And he was holding a short, heavy, nick el plated revolver with a white horn handle and fluted barrel. Bess instantly and mechanically recog nized it as the weapon she had picked up from the weeds in front of the factory at Slow River that day when Curlin and Whiteside were ejected by Peter Green. Cur lin was holding the revolver loose ly. gaping at it. “Put that down!" his nephew re peated sharply: “you mustn't touch things. Put it down!" He reached for the weapon, and the old camera maker, in a dazed way, put it down on the floor. By that time both of them were aware of Bess—without surprise, apparently, as though their capacity for surprise hail been ex hausted. The nephew stood up and spoke to her gravely: “Krona's been shot." That seemed to break the spell release her from the paralysis. She uttered a little moan and moved forward, her eyes on the prostrate man. It became, suddenly and ex clusively. his tragedy—with some thing like tragedy's last word In the the sprawling, inert posture of his big figure. She stopped, clasping her hands. There was a sort of final ity in the intertness of the body— and the quantity of blood. She felt that he was dead. Whiteside stooped beside her and spoke low: “I'm quite sure he's dead.” He seemed to be saying It Intimately to her—consolatory, as one speaks to the bereaved: a sort of reverence for death In the tone. She was aware of the great boom of the wind. with many lesser sounds of violenee In it, as though numberless littler winds were strik ing the cabin here and there, shak ing a casement, tugging at a cor ner of the roof; and creaking, clat tering sounds from afar were borne along by the gale. In that big cur rent of various noises she and Whiteside, for a second, decently mourned Krom's death. Then White side was saying to her: “We must get a doctor, though, and notify the police." Of course that should be done; this was a thing that must be an swered for. She stood up and felt a strong Impulse to touch his hand, by laying her hand on his. For him. also, she felt pity. In spite of all his care and sacrifice he had lost tho game; finally he hadn't been able to save his mad old uncle from this madness. That, also, was sad — shaking her heart. And In mo chantcal sort of her way her wits were at work not forgetting that this was a thing which must be answered for. "I'll send for a doctor," she said to Whiteside, very low, in a sort of absolving intimacy. "Yes, please; and notify the po lice," he replied. She sped to tho door and through the passage. The bit of metal which had fullen when she took the safe expert up to the roof still lay in front of the door to the stairs, no one having bothered to pick it up or kick it aside. She was at the- foot of the stairs when Ilarwood came out of her cabinet, swiftly—evident ly on his way up to the roof. “Curlin's shot Krora!" she said, breathlessly. "Where can I got a doctor quickest?" He exclaimed: “The devil!" Yet it was hardly more of an exclamation than one might make over a bad shot at golf. He gave her the name and address of a physician, at once adding, "But you'd better notify the coroner's office to make sure. Use my name. Tell ’em to be quick. Better notify the coroner first. Who’s up there.” "Curtin and Mr. Whiteside,'' she replied. “Notify the coroner first," he re peated. and went on to the stairs. She followed his instructions, us ing his name at the coroner's of fice, asking haste. As she hung up the receiver It seemed to her that the rush and clamor of the wind had gotten into her head. And she had nothing to do then but wait. She was standing in her cabinet when her mind abruptly picked up a broken thread. When she camo in here from luncheon solely Intent upon catch ing Robert Whiteside redhanded. Harwood had been standing at his desk In there, his back toward her, evidently examining something that lay on the desk. And an old black bag had stood open at his elbow. She knew that bag. Often had she seen it in Krom’s hand, and last Saturday she had carried it down to the Ellenborough hotel. long use and stuffing with heavy objects had sprung it out of shape—one end sag ging—and there was a rip In one of the leather handles. As her mind now picked up the broken thread a picture of the bag came distinctly. Assuredly that was Krom's bag. But how had it got from the Ellen borough hotel, where she took it on Saturday, to Harwood's desk? It was not on his desk or elsewhere In sight now. She vaguely puzzled over that. Time seemed to pass with incred ible slowness. What were they do ing upstairs? Ordinary office work was out of the question now. Two men hurried in, one of them burly, red nosed, wide mouthed; the other lean and long limbed: but both of them hard eyed. The burly one spoke, peremptorily: “We're from detective head quarters. Mr. Harwood sent for somebody. Where is he?" “Upstairs,’’ she said: “this way." At the west door she pointed to the iron stairs and the men loped up, oddly like hounds on a scent. That struck her as quite odd. Evidently Harwood had sent to de tective headquarters before he Knew what had happened. Hut she remembered she had told him a trespasser was on the roof; of course that was why he had telephoned. Yet she hadn't meant that; she’d told him to leave it to her. The appearance of the detectives seemed to have spread an alarm through the office. In a few minutes Mr. Martindale of the firm came to inquire what had happened and went upstairs. Young Mr. Happer, a junior member whose name did not appear in the firm title, then ap peared and followed Mr. Martin dale. Miss Babcock came to the cab inet. Bess shut her door to keep out the crowd that would probably be coming soon. Presently came a bearded man from the coroner’s of fice, who went upstairs. Mr. Martin dale and Mr. Happer came down and evidently gave Instructions which discouraged curiosity seekers inside the office. Time dragged! Then the Ijearded man from the coroner's office came into Bess’ cabinet, followed by Robert White side, who was followed by Curlin. who was followed by the burly de tective. The old camera man look ed glumly hostile; his hot, bald eyes seemed full of anger again. White side looked merely sober and turned toward Bess with a little nod and smile as the procession went silent ly through her mom. The meaning of the procession was obvious. Pur lin and Whiteside, although their hands were free, were in custody. Boss thought—a note of triumph: "I know he reached the roof room only a minute before 1 did!" Not long afterward Harwood and the rangy detective came in. "I've locked tho door at the head of the stntrs," the lawyer told her. amiably, as usual. "Best keep this door opc# and an eye on the stairway, more or loss. Don't let anybody go up—ex cept police, of course. They'll be sending somebody to take care of the body soon.” He spoke about the body decently, yet It somehow seemed to Bess that he was In rather good humor. There had been an Insistent ques tion in her mind ail along. She asked it now: "Did he say how it happened?” "Why, no," Harwood replied, with a faint smile. "They both say they know nothing about It. They say they went lip there together and found Krom dead on the floor, and then yon came In. You didn't hear a shot?” "No. I went into the room, and Krom lay on the floor and they were standing there." “Well,” said Harwood, with what seemed to Bess an odd cheerfulness, "we’ll all have to go up to detective headquarters soon and tell our stories. I'll come for you. Mean while, best say nothing to anybody. Sergeant Samuels and I are going down to his hotel now. What's the number of his room?” She gave the number. "Best say nothing to anybody,” Harwood repeated, in what seemed a rather cheerful manner. "Don't let anybody go upstairs except of ficials. I’ll come Back for you.” He and rangy Sergeant Samuels, with the hard eyes, then went out, leav. ing Bess with a new sensation. So uncle and nephew said they went up to the roof room together and found Krom dead! She had supposed that the uncle had gone up first. It was clear enough that If uncle and nephew insisted they had gone up together they must stand or fall to gether In the Inquiry concerning Krom's death. And If Curlin hadq'> killed Krom who could have done It? The outer d<-or of her caUuet was locked. Ordinary telephone calls were Intercepted In the front office. •She had nothing to do but think, wonder, listen to her heart beats. Odd about that black bag. I low could it have got there? H'here could it have gone? She presently felt a waywardness, an independ ence, regarding the whole question of what had happened In the roof room since noon. Nat rode over a goc-d many things rough shod. She went Into his room deliber ately looking for that black bog, and found It In the big bottom drawer of his desk with a litter of dusty type written manuscript on top of it. If she hadn’t been acquainted with that desk she would probably have merely opened the bottom drawer, seen that it was full of old papers and closed it again. Rut she was well acquainted with the desk. Those dusty manuscripts.—relating to a civic improvement project which had fallen into abeyance—be longed In the drawer above the bot tom one. It was perfectly clear to hor that Harwood had stuffed the bag into the big bottom drawer and dumped the manuscripts from the drawer above on top of it—a man’s idea of hiding a thing. The bag was empty and on its side; beneath it lay the thin drum which held the film In a picture projecting machine and a lens done up In green flan nel cloth. She put the things back as she had found them, and went to wash her dirty fingers. Certainly. Nat had hidden Krom’s bag after she, coming in from lunch, had run up to the roof room. The warded man from the coro ner’s office, a janitor, and two at tendants with a litter went up to the roof room to take care of the body. She was surprised to note that it was only 20 minutes to 3. The burly, blunt nosed detective and another went up to the roof room, coming down again after a quarter of an hour. The burly man questioned her: "How long were you up there when you saw the body first?" "Only two or three minutes, I think.” she replied. "Perhaps not two minutes. I came down to send for a doctor, you know. Then Mr. Harwood went up as soon as I came down.” "Do you remember it pretty clearly—got a picture of it in your mind?" he asked—rather as though young women's minds were uncer tain quantities. “yes," she said; “Mr. Krom lay on the floor on his face. The other men stood near him.” "Anything on the floor beside the body.?" She hesitated an Instant before answering. “A revolver with a white handle." “Nothing of a black hag. about so big’’" He indicated a small bag, measuring Hip space with his hands, and added. "On tho floor or any where around?'' "No; l saw nothing like that up there." site replied, evenly, quietly. "tXm-m!" said the detective. "But Mr. Kroni had a hag like that," she ventured. “Why do you ask'."’ "Klevator man says Kroni was carrying a bag like that when he came in, little before 1 o'clock to day," lie replied. "I didn't see it up there," she murmured. Tho detectives then left. She could have told them that the big bag was then hidden in Mr. Harwood's desk: but she didn't. Also, she could have told them that when she entered the roof room Curlin hud the revolver In his hand —the same revolver with which he had tried to shoot Peter (iroen; but she didn’t tell that, either. At least it was fairly a twin to the one Curlin had drawn In front of the plant at Slow Biver. She had picked it up then, carried it to the office, and dropped it into an empty drawer. But she rememliered that, by Robert Whileside’s own admis sion, he and Ids uncle had broken into the factory at Slow River since then, and rummaged the office. The obvious explanation would be that Curlin had then recovered his weapon. Many things that she was not telling. Kven now Nat and the rangy de tective were undoubtedly rummag ing poor Kroni's room at the hotel. Poor Kroni! She sighed aa that sprawled body came up In her mind —though she remembered that she was to have gone to the hotel at 4 o’clock to take more dictation. He had come to the Belknap building with his eyes unbandaged, so prob ably he was a rogue; but he was dead now. Robert Whiteside had said he was a rogue, deceiving her about his eyes. But she had a sort of helpless feeling about roguery ill general. There was the black bog in Nat's desk that needed explain ing. "Nobody else cares about you; all they care about is the money: but 1 care.” At last, twenty minutes to four, Harwood was telephoning her. How nice and reassuring his voice was! "That you. Bessie? Will you meet me at detective headquarters, please? It's on the east side of I-a Salle street, between I.ake and Ran dolph—one of these dingy old build ings. Just walk up La Salle street I’m going there now in a eab; he waiting for you on the sidewalk.’ Her nerves wound up tight again This was to be the police cross ex amination; a sort of preliminary In quest. They would question her Curlin and Robert Whiteside were standing or falling together. There was the revolver which she had seen in Curlin’s hand—the same one apparently, which he had tried to use at Slow River. On the other hand, there was the bag in Nat's desk. Could Nat-. But she wouldn't finish the sentence. The strangest point In all this dis turbance was that, for the first time in her life, she was unsure of herself. Was she going to tell the whole truth? She didn't know. Nat Harwood was her man now. She mustn't betray him if she could help it and if he had really done some thing. But Robert Whiteside had a claim upon her also. She left the office with taut nerves, uncer tain of herself, walking abstract ly up te street. There was Nat alighting front a cab, with the long limbed detective and a stranger—seeing her, and waiting. It was comforting to dis cover how bright and pleasant and competent he looked; and confus ing at the same time. He was in troducing her to his companions; "Miss Meldcn, my secretary; Ser geant Samuels.” The sergeant lifted hia hat and smiled; but there was a kind of rusty iron hardness even in the smile. "And Mr. Pratt from the state's attorney’s office," Harwood con tinued with the introduction. Mr. Pratt had curly reddish hair, a curly. reddish mustache, large, freckled hands. They went into the shabby build ing and upstairs to a shabby room —dinginess constituting Bess' sole impression of it. And Harwood was introducing her to Captain Shaw, who had a printed gray beard and nice eyes, so that Bess had a vague, grateful impression that he was a kind man and not the gritty, bull dog type which she associated with the police. These introductions—Nat seemed so sociable and cheerful about it all! He and she were taking chairs at one side of tl>e room. Then her heart pulled and sank, for the camera-maker and his neph ew were brought in—practically captives under the shadow of an in dictment. Tiie sour old man glow ered at the room in general and sat down Whiteside sitting beside hint. looked soberly composed. Mr. Pratt who sat not far from Harwood, be gun the questioning—turning to the captives and speaking easily, without emphasis: ‘‘I'm from the state's attorney's office. You two discovered the body, I believe." That plainly invited a statement, and Whiteside replied: "My uncle and 1 had an appoint ment with Krom, to meet him on the roof of the Belknap building at a quarter past one. Krom came to my uncle's oiffee yesterday morn ing, saying he had perfected an invention for taking motion pic tures In colors. He asked my un cle to come to this roof room, where the projecting machine and film screen were, at a quarter pnst ono today. He said he'd show my un cle a sample of the plotures. Ho proposed to sell my uncle a share in the invention for $.10,000. I had the hour of the appointment in mind and looked down street at the Board of Trade clock. It was prob ublly one minute before a quarter past one when we went Into the building. We went at once to the room on the roof. Krom lay on the floor—a great deal of blood beside him. I stepped over and felt for his pulse, but couldn’t find any. Just then Miss Malden came in." "Y'ou saw a weapon?" “Yes a nickel plated revolver With a white bone handle. It was lying on tho floor about two feet from Krom's head." There was an In stant's hesitation. “In fact, my uncle picked it up because it looked like a revolver that he once had.” With a sudden glow Bess thought, "He’s telling it himself" "How long ago did your uncle have this revolver?" "He lost It last April, and hadn’t seen it since—if It’s the same re volver.” Pratt addressed the camera mak er: “Was It the same revolver?" Curlin seemed to struggle a mo ment with a wish to tell him to go to the devil, and replied, Irritably: "]-ooks like it. I hadn’t seen It. or one like It. since April. It was the only revolver I ever owned. Sur prised me to see it on the floor, so 1 picked it up." He looked around at Bess, angrily, as though she was somehow responsible, ami added. "I had It my hand when she walked in." There was a little pause and Mr. Pratt observed dryly, "I Bee!" He seemed to Imply that the suspects were confessing to the revolver be cause a witness had seen it in Cur lin's band. Harwood also gianted nround at Bess. She hadn't men tioned seeing a revolver in C urlln'a hand. "You and Krom were not on good terms,” Pratt remarked without em phasis. "No,” Cutlin blurted. "If you want the truth about it, he stole this Invention from me.” "But you were going to buy it liaek?” "I didn't say I was going to buy it back. I said I'd go up there and look at it. I might have paid him fifty thousand dollars and I might not. What you want is to check up the time. The man was stone dead when we got there. Probably you can find out from some of the elevator men when we went up." Pratt looked over at Captain Shaw, who said, “We know when Krom went up; but nobody has recognized the description of these two men.” "Say the elevator men don't re member you,” Pratt remarked to the suspects. "Have you any other way or proving the tune? Whiteside answered: "That's a question. We walked down from my office on the north side. Just possible that somebody who knows us may have seen us—but not very probable." Captain West spoke. "What time did you leave the north side office?" "Well, we left early," Whiteside replied. "You see, my uncle was rather nervous—about being there on time. We left at a quarter to 1, and killed some time on the street. We wanted to get tip to the roof just a quarter past X.” “Anybody see you leave the of fice?" the captain asked. "No,” Whiteside admitted. He re alized that the case was not going favorably for them, and remarked. "I’m not an expert, but I think Kroni had been dead a good many minutes when we got there.” Obviously this question of time was crucial: and he asked. “What did the coroner's physician say about that?" The police were not bound to an swer questions: hut Captain West strengthened Klizabeth's Impression that he was a kindly man by reply ing. "IBooks as though the man was killed some time between a quarter to 1 and 1. Dr. Durton says be d been dead half an hour or over when he got there. The elevator man thinks Krom went up to the top floor around a quarter to 1—carry ing a small black bag: same bag the (Continued on Tor* Se^en.)