  When Mrs. Fishberry left Helen Tower locked in the empty house on Saturday evening, to take a train back to Chicago, she was exceedingly pleased with herself. Everything had turned out wonderfully, she believed, and she would soon be married to a rich man. When the law suit was over she would go abroad with Ed—or perhaps join him abroad, for he seemed to think it was necessary to get out of the country immediately. Well, perhaps he was a little bit crooked—— But Mrs. Fishberry did not believe him to be as wicked as he really was. She thought that perhaps Linda Carlton had hit Helen with her autogiro, and though there was no real witness to the accident except Dorothy Crowley, Mrs. Fishberry did not consider it wrong to bribe someone to make up the testimony. After all, Linda Carlton must be rich; there was no reason why she shouldn’t part with some of her money. The girl was always winning prizes—probably without much effort on her part, Mrs. Fishberry believed. She was so late getting into Chicago that night that she waited until Sunday noon to call Ed. She was anxious to tell him of her success, not only in obtaining the pictures and the records about his niece, but of securing the girl herself under lock and key. Ed would rejoice at the news, for he had not expected her to accomplish this feat before Sunday. To her dismay, however, a strange voice answered the telephone in Ed’s apartment. When Mrs. Fishberry gave him her name, he explained that he was Leo Epstein, the lawyer whom Tower had employed to take charge of the damage suit against Linda Carlton. “And I have sent a telegram to Miss Carlton, informing her of our intentions,” he said. “In my name?” demanded Mrs. Fishberry. “Yes, of course.” “But I’m not married to Mr. Tower yet,” she protested. “It won’t be legal for me to sue Miss Carlton unless I’m the girl’s real aunt.” “It’ll be legal by the time the case comes up. Those things take a long time—unless Miss Carlton is willing to settle out of court. Maybe she will pay us twenty-five thousand dollars to keep us from suing her.” “She’ll never do that!” asserted Mrs. Fishberry. “Why do you say that?” asked the lawyer. “Mr. Tower seemed to think that there might be some chance of it.” “Because I know Miss Carlton. She isn’t the sort of person to run away from trouble. And Mr. Tower doesn’t know Miss Carlton, or he wouldn’t think she would.” “Hm,” remarked Mr. Epstein. “Well, when will Mr. Tower be back?” the woman inquired impatiently. “I would like to be married before we get the girl.” “That isn’t possible, Mrs. Fishberry,” he said. “And it really doesn’t make a bit of difference. Mr. Tower is out of town now and may not be back for several days. He left word for me to tell you to call him up at the Central Hotel in Milwaukee to-morrow morning, if you had anything to say to him that was important. I suppose if you wanted to see him, you could go there. That is the only message I have, Mrs. Fishberry.” “I see,” replied the other, as she hung up the receiver. She was so angry at the way Ed Tower did things, the way he never seemed to consider what she wanted to do, that she thought of going home to Montana, and dropping her part in the affair. After all, was it worth it? What was she going to get out of it? And she certainly didn’t want to have to look after Helen Tower for the rest of her life. Ed was certainly a selfish man. Oh, he was attractive, and nice if he wanted to be, but wasn’t he just using her now to help him get this money? How was she to be sure that he would ever share it with her if he did get it? She would have dropped the whole thing then and there—for Mrs. Fishberry had never been a dishonest woman before—had it not been for the thought of poor Helen Tower locked alone in that empty house. Although she had no love for the girl, and believed her to be feeble-minded, she could not bear the thought of her being burned alive, as she might be if Ed went alone to the house without knowing that Helen was there. No; Mrs. Fishberry couldn’t back out now. She’d have to take the sleeper to Milwaukee in time to be there in the morning, to go with Ed and rescue the girl. A little after eight o’clock the following morning she arrived at the Central Hotel and was informed that Mr. Tower was at breakfast. She joined him, for she had eaten nothing on the train. “Hello, there, Elsie!” he cried, cheerily, as she seated herself at the table with him. “Have you found my niece?” “Yes,” she replied, briefly. “Where is she now?” “Locked in the empty house.” “But we don’t want her there!” he stormed. “Of all the fool places to leave her—” He stopped, remembering that he was in a public place, and refused to discuss the subject until they were both seated in his gray open roadster, speeding away from Milwaukee somewhat later in the day. It was then that Mrs. Fishberry insisted upon an explanation of his disapproval of what she had done with Helen. “I don’t see why I should have been bothered with her over Sunday,” she said resentfully, “when you were off having a good time!” “Oh, is that so?” he retorted, in irritation. “Well, I told you to get hold of her—and keep her. Now if she sees me set fire to the house, how’s that going to fix me with the police?” “I never thought of that,” admitted Mrs. Fishberry. “That’s the trouble with you! You never think! Well, we’ll have to think of something now.” They drove along at a rapid rate after leaving the city, stopping only once to have an early dinner at a wayside inn. It was then that the man decided upon a plan. “I think the best idea is for you to drive when we get in sight of the house, and I’ll get out and hide somewhere while I put on a disguise. You take the key and go into the house and get the kid. But when you get outside again, you’ll have to pretend that there’s something the matter with the car, because I want it left for me. So you and the kid can walk to the station. I won’t sneak up to the house till after you’re well out of sight, so as Helen won’t see it burning.” “That’s all very well for you,” objected the woman, “but not so good for me. You know it’s at least five miles to the station!” “Can’t help that! It’s your fault for not thinking what would happen if you left the kid in that house.” “Oh, all right,” she agreed, sullenly. There seemed to be nothing else to do. But this plan was naturally never carried out, for the simple reason that when Mrs. Fishberry arrived a little after seven o’clock, the girl was nowhere to be found. A hasty glance at the broken lock on the front door, the open kitchen door, and the smashed windows assured her that Helen had made her escape. It never occurred to her to suspect that the latter might be somewhere else in the house—or in the tower. She felt relieved that she was gone; she was tired of the whole affair. She ran back to her companion with the news. He fairly snorted with anger. “Balled everything up, didn’t you?” he cried. Mrs. Fishberry stood still and laughed. He was such a funny-looking object in that disguise—a gray wig and a false beard, and a long linen duster. Though the sun had set, it was not yet dark, and she could plainly see him, crouched under some bushes. “You’re a sight!” she sneered. “And I bet they catch you!” “What’s the matter with you, Elsie?” he demanded. “Nothing—oh, nothing,” she replied hastily, but already she had decided that she was through with Ed Tower. The man came out of his hiding place and lifted a suitcase from the rear of his car. But he did not think to ask Elsie Fishberry for the key, and here he made a mistake which he was to regret bitterly later on. He trudged along up the path to the house, afraid to hurry lest someone see him and suspect him. If he walked along like an ordinary old peddler, nobody would think anything about him. But once inside the house, he did not loiter a minute. Opening up his suitcase, he took out great wads of cotton waste which had been previously soaked in oil. These he piled under the huge wooden staircase, and applied a match. As the rags burst into flames he hurriedly left the house, carefully closing the door behind him. Before he had reached the road he could see the smoke pouring through the chimney of the fireplace, and out of the broken kitchen window. There was no doubt that he had succeeded in setting the house on fire, no doubt that it would burn to the ground. By to-morrow the news would have reached the papers. On Wednesday he ought to be able to go to the Trust Company in Chicago and collect that money which was his father’s small fortune. For now at last the officials would be assured that Henry Adolph Tower’s will could never be found. He chuckled to himself with satisfaction as he reached the road and looked about for his car. But that chuckle abruptly changed to an oath as he failed to see it. It was gone! Elsie Fishberry had double-crossed him, and had run away! For a few minutes he stood there in the road, hoping that she was only playing a practical joke upon him, and that she would suddenly drive into sight. But as the time passed he gave up hoping, and snatching off his wig and his beard, he flung them, with his linen coat, into the bushes, and started on his five-mile hike to the station. |
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