The unseen ear

CHAPTER I
THROUGH THE PORTIÈRES

The bedroom door opened and closed on its oiled hinges without a sound, and a man walked over to the closet. With methodical care he hung his coat on its accustomed peg before moving deliberately over to his bureau. On its highly polished top he laid down a soiled scrap of paper. His quiet, orderly actions gave no indication of the rage consuming him. As he raised his head his eyes traveled upward and he started back involuntarily at the face contemplating him in the mirror. His face—but was that distorted countenance his face? With a shudder he glanced over his shoulder and about the room; then slowly, fearfully he turned to face his other self mirrored in the glass before him.

Judith Richards poked the fire into a brighter blaze, then leaned back in her chair with a little sigh of content and idly turned over the pages of the book she had been reading. The happy ending recorded in the romance reflected her own mood. Two months a bride! Her lips parted in a tender smile as events of her happy married life recurred to her, and dropping the book in her lap, she rested her head against the tufted chair and watched the burning logs in dreamy contemplation. She was not conscious of the lateness of the hour or of the fact that she was no longer alone in the large library.

The newcomer who had entered noiselessly through the portières hanging before the doorway leading from the library into the dining room, moved cautiously forward to obtain a better view of Judith. Satisfied that he had not disturbed her reverie, he sidled stealthily over to a large safe, which stood near a mahogany desk, and dropped on his knees before it.

Without rising from his crouching position, he pushed forward a chair until its broad proportions completely sheltered his movements should Judith turn around and glance in his direction; then, losing no further time, he twirled the dial of the safe around with practiced fingers, and as the massive door finally swung open he went systematically through each compartment of the safe. Fully twenty minutes passed and the man moistened his dry lips. Was his search to go unrewarded?

As he felt about in the last compartment to be examined his fingers encountered a piece of paper caught apparently in a crevice. With infinite care he pulled it loose, and rising, walked over to the electric-light bracket on the wall by the door through which he had entered the library. One of the bulbs was burning, and as he bent his head to examine the piece of paper, his eyes caught the flash of steel as it darted through the portières, and he instinctively recoiled—but too late to avoid the thrust. With a whimpering cry he fell face downward, his blood staining the handsome rugs.

Judith stirred and sat up, then after a comfortable stretch of her stiffened muscles, she replaced her book on the table, and with a glance at the mantel clock, paused to warm her hands at the smoldering embers.

It was much later than she had supposed—one o’clock. With a faint shiver she pulled her dainty warm wrapper more closely about her slender figure before leaning over to switch off the reading lamp. Picking up her large sewing bag she walked across the library intending to press the wall button which controlled the electric side lights. But her intention was forgotten as her sleepy eyes caught sight of the crumpled figure lying in front of the entrance to the dining room.

A cry broke from her and slowly her shocked wits took in the significance of the ever widening red stain creeping across the rugs and floor. For long seconds she stood staring, too terrified to move. Gradually gathering courage, she advanced and, placing one trembling hand on the man’s shoulder, rolled him over until his face was exposed to view. With a bound she regained her feet, her hands raised to her throbbing temples, while the sewing bag tumbled unheeded to the floor.

She was unaware of the passing time as she gazed at the face before her, a face scarcely less gray in death than her own, from which every ray of color had been stricken. Slowly, slowly she took in every detail of the man’s appearance, then with numb, clumsy fingers she jerked a long pair of steel shears from her sewing bag and, kneeling down once more by the dead man, she hacked and tore at his watch chain until she had loosened a small locket.

Slipping the locket inside her belt and clutching the sewing bag, she staggered to her feet and made her way into the large central hall as a key turned in the front door and a man stepped inside the house.

“Joe! Thank God!” Judith’s low cry ended abruptly, and her husband was just in time to catch her as she fell unconscious to the floor.