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Vogel had made her bring her scrap-books of yellowed clippings and her photographs? he had also arranged for press photographers and camera men from the news weeklies, for here was a subject suitable for the screen reviews. When Mrs. Holmes left the build ing, she faced a battery of still and mioving-picture cameras, and a way for her had t0 be cleared through the curiosity-seekers. Word quickly spread that an ac tual eye-witness of the Ethridge slaying had come forward with an increditable story and a mob fob lowed Mrs. Holmes to her hjDtel It swarmed into the locby and up to the elevator gates, reminding her of the crowds that' had followed hei in Paris, in Vienna. She would have liked to step out tof her room to some balcony, with her arms full of roses, and throw kisses to the street below. In a surprisingly snort time ca trasr were out and Mrs. Holmes heard them being shouted. They contained little but headlines and a brief statement of facts, bu she read hem avidly and could scarcely wait for the fuller accounts and for the arrifal of the big Chicago dailies the next morning. It fed her vanity to realize that in many quarters upon tvpewriter keys and telegraph; instruments fast-flying fingers werej pounding out her life story and that it was being cast into molten metal for the world to read. Those old phjotographs which had lain so long in the dark were being repro-' duced and new ones finished! Maryj Holmes, "the goose woman,” had set the presses of the country a spinning; Maria di Nardi, the for gotten darling of grand opera, was being reborn. Sustained emotion, such as she had undergone today demanded re lief, and again she appealed to the matron for some whiskey. But the latter was firm. Mrs. Holmes was too excited to eat any supper, nor could she sleep when bedtime came. Habit had becjome fixed, restraint had only whetted keener her de sire for drink, and her outraged system clamored fiercely for its ac customed anodyne. She paced the floor until long after her compan ion had retired. She wondered why Jerry did not cjpmmunicate with her. He must have heard those newsboys bawling "extra” by this time and—But oi course he was mad at her for get ting into print; he abhorred notor iety. A shrinking violet, that was Jerry! Bah! He had offered to make her over if she’d let him Well, she had made herself over. She wished he clould see her tonight. Mrs. Holmes rang for a bellboy and asked him the earliest possible moment he could secure for her the morning papers. The boy volun teered to go to the offices and fetch the first copies off the press; that would probably be about three o’clock. This gave the woman an idea, and she inquired if by any chance, he could at the same time secure for her a little stimulant, preferably whiskey, although gin would do. The boy assured her that he could. He did. Mary Holmes found pictures of herself on the damp front pages. The stories that went with them were all that she could have desired. She smiledh, to be sure, at Bogei’s positive assertion that he was on the trail of "the man in the robe” and that his arrest was merely a matter of hours. Vbgel was a great grand stander. He amused the reader. She lowered the liquor in her bottle and felt her tautened nerves relax, felt a grateful ease and contentment creep through her. When the matron came to awak en her charge in the morning she found her lying across her bed with her clothes on, and with an empty flask beside her. There was a perfectly good rea son why Gerald Holmes did not communicate with his mother that| night; he was, for the time being,! out of communication with any-j body. Even mhile the evening ex tras were in process of printing he had been taken to pblice headquar ters and there put through an ex- • amination sufficiently rigious to be . termed the "third degree.” At first , he was humiliated and bewildered,! i although scarcely alarmed; he an-^ swered questions frankly and fully, not realizing in the least that every word he uttered closed the net more tightly about him. The police began by asking him abteut his relations with Hazel Woods, and he told them of his en gagement to her. He also admit ted ownership of an automobile and identified a linen dust coat as his property, although why the po lice had taken pains jlo filch it from the car and bring it here he could not imagine. With equal readiness he admitted having driven out to his mother’s farm on the evening of the murder and having left the car in the pine grove near the entrance to the Ethridge lane. Yes, his right headlight had been out of commis sion. To Gerald it seemed inconceiv able these men could actually sus pect him of complicity in the crime Not until he had gone over and over the story of his trip out and back and had detailed his every ac tion on that night without in the least impressing them did he begin tb appreciate the seriousness of his situation. Why should they suspect him of the murder, he demanded to know. Why should he wish to harm the man who had done more foThim than anybody in Westland? What possible motive cbuld he lave for destroying his benefactor? They told him why in languape so plain, so brutal, that he was stricken dumb. Miss Woods had been Amos Ethridge’s sweetheart ind the cottage she occupied was their love nest. She was the writer of that "Thursday” note which had been found on his body, and. afer the show on the night of his slaying, he had called upon her, as was his frequent habit. He had gone directly from her arms to his death. , Gerald leaped to his feet. "That s a lie!” he shouted. In a fury he struck at the speaker. No attempt was made t)o quiet him; on the con trary, his inquisitors undertook to capitalize his agitation They goard ed him; they taunted him with be ing a fool; they told him things about Etheridge and the girl that would have driven any lover fran tic. Vogel came in while this was going bn, but he took no part in the proceedings. When Jerry refused to be convinced, when again he called them liars and defied them to shake his faith in his fiancee, they shifted their tactics and read him his mother’s deposition. He listened while incredulity changed to despair. When they had finished he told them, miserably: "You shouldn’t believe that. She’s—not altogeth er respbnsible. She drinks more than she should and there are times when she’s apt to do or say almost anything. She’s not a credible wit ness.” She wasn t drunk wnen sne swore this.” "But— don’t you see, there’s just enough truth to what she says to make it all sound plausible? She doesn’t kntaw that I have an auto mobile. I didn’t tell her because— well, because she would have con sidered it an extravagance, so she doesn’t realize it was my car she saw pass the house. I did leave it at the grove and it did have only one headlight. Yes and she saw the tracts here he next morning But she didn’t actually see the mur der, or she’d have told me. Why, we talked it Over when I got back from Chicago and she never said a word about it! Bring her here. Take me to her. She’ll set this thing straight.” "You better come clean,” one of the detectives told him. "It’ll save a lot of trouble and you’re not do ing yourself any good raving like this. You may save yourself from the gallows.” In spite of himself, Gerald flinched. "Pretty rotten to kill the man whb befriended you. Hie jury won’t be out twenty min utes. Why, listen to this and do a little thinking for yourself. Eth -idge likes you, and one day he in :roduces you to his gal. You fall :or her, like any sucker, and want :o marry her until you discover he’s his sweetie. But she knows a ;ood thing when she’s got it and he stalls you. All those Janes have young fellow on the side! Of course you’re familiar with Ethridge habits; you know how he drives home that back way every night after he’s been to see her, so nobody will get wise, and you know he has to get out to open that gate. You know every inch of the ground out there, having been raised on the spot. You may buy a cheap car so you can get around—people on trol leys are likely to be seen and rec ognized, late at night. What’s a guy like you, a picture painter, want of an automobile, eh? All All right. One night when Eth ridve has a date with your gal— his gal—you beat it out to see your mother. You’re a nice dutiful ma ma’s boy, only you’re not living at home. No, you’ve gtot your own place in town and you leave her j alone with the chickens. You park your flivver where it’s handy to the lane; then you frame an alibi by calling on the old lady. But you take pains to duck just before Eth ridge is due home. Fine- It’s a wonder you didn’t set the clock back when she wasn’t looking and call her attention to it. They us ually do. but you get a bad break—one I in a thousand. Your n?other goes up the road in time to see you give Ethridge the works. Tough for you she wasn’t close enough to rec ognize your voire or see yohr fare; she’d have vept her mohth slosed if she had no doubt. Women are like that. But not knowing you had a car, she spills everything to Mr. Vogel, and he plays her just right. We have you covered before he brbings her intb town. And by the way, remember the two wops that talked to you the night you went back to hide yiur tracks in case she suspected you. Your right headlight was out that night, too. Why, man, everything checks up, even to the white robe, or 'mantle,’ as she calls it! We find this light colored dust coat in your car. It ain’t exactly white and it ain’t a 'robe,’ but it’s close enough. I saw a clerer set up. Better call it a day and sign on the dotted line.” Gerald spoke, quietly, listlessly: "You almost make me believe I did it, but there’s one thing you can’t make me believe and that’s what you say about—Miss Woods.” That night while his mother greedily read about herself in the papers and drank herself into a tri umphant stupor Jerry sat on the edge of a bunk in the city prison. Westland was in a furore. There was but one topic of conversation. The Ethridge case had "brokenfin ally and the explosion rocked the; city, for nothing so fantastic as the true facts had been conceived in; the most imaginative mind. To begin with, the story of Ethridge’s "love nest” and its charming occu pant—which, by the way, the pap ers featured in screaming headlines —was sufficiently scandafous to de light the prurient minded. Then too the identity of the slayer was a genuine surprise. A wicked roue, a seductive actress, a Cupid’s bower and a jealous young lover! It was the oldest, the most hackeyed situa tion known to newspaper report ing; _ it was hokum of the highest ■ quality, sure-fire stuff. Anybody tould write it, everybody would read it. To have the lover prove to be a base ingrate was an added touch and a tasty morsel. But the thrill, the drama, lay in the fact that the ingrate’s mother had actu ally winessed the murder and, in absolute innccer.ce of the part she played, had brbught him to justice. Here was something stunning; here was a coincidence truly uncanny; here was the hand of God. Yes, and the final denouncement, com ing right on top of the discovery of her real identity, was piling sen sation. To the general mind it was a pe culiar satisfying case because the motives were plain and understand able and because the persons involv ed, outside of the unfortunate mother, excited no sympathy what ever. Mr. Vogel came in for great praise for the expedition with which he had solved a baffling mystery; the chain of evidence he had forg ed was so strong and So complete that nobody questioned it. On Sun day, the day after Gerald’s arrest more than one sermon had for its text "The wages of sin,” and from pulpits, not alone in Westland, earnest preachers thundered against rich men of evil life, the ingrati tude bf youth, and the scarlet wo men of the stage. CONTINUED NEXT WEEK Today & Tomorrow (Continued from page One) plaes will take you anywhere in the United States in an incredibly short time. The regular planes of the Pan-Ame ican Airways will land you in Buenos Aires in five days. The trans-pacific Clippers will be in regular service before long. 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