THE OAKDALE AFFAIR
EDGAR RICE
BURROUGHS
Chapter One
The house on the hill showed lights only upon the first
floor--in the spacious reception hall, the dining room,
and those more or less mysterious purLieus thereof from
which emanate disagreeable odors and agreeable foods.
From behind a low bush across the wide lawn a pair
of eyes transferred to an alert brain these simple per-
ceptions from which the brain deduced with Sherlock-
ian accuracy and Raffleian purpose that the family of
the president of The First National Bank of--Oh, let's
call it Oakdale--was at dinner, that the servants were be-
low stairs and the second floor deserted.
The owner of the eyes had but recently descended
from the quarters of the chauffeur above the garage
which he had entered as a thief in the night and quitted
apparelled in a perfectly good suit of clothes belong-
ing to the gentlemanly chauffeur and a soft, checked
cap which was now pulled well down over a pair of
large brown eyes in which a rather strained expression
might have suggested to an alienist a certain neophy-
tism which even the stern set of well shaped lips could
not effectually belie.
Apparently this was a youth steeling himself against
a natural repugnance to the dangerous profession he had
espoused; and when, a moment later, he stepped out
into the moonlight and crossed the lawn toward the
house, the slender, graceful lines which the ill-fitting
clothes could not entirely conceal carried the conviction
of youth if not of innocence.
The brazen assurance with which the lad crossed the
lawn and mounted the steps to the verandah suggested
a familiarity with the habits and customs of the inmates
of the house upon the hill which bespoke long and care-
ful study of the contemplated job. An old timer could
not have moved with greater confidence. No detail
seemed to have escaped his cunning calculation. Though
the door leading from the verandah into the reception
hall swung wide to the balmy airs of late Spring the
prowler passed this blatant invitation to the hospitality
of the House of Prim. It was as though he knew that
from his place at the head of the table, with his back
toward the great fire place which is the pride of the
Prim dining hall, Jonas Prim commands a view of the
major portion of the reception hall.
Stooping low the youth passed along the verandah to
a window of the darkened library--a French window
which swung open without noise to his light touch. Step-
ping within he crossed the room to a door which opened
at the foot of a narrow stairway--a convenient little stair-
way which had often let the Hon. Jonas Prim to pass
from his library to his second floor bed-room unnoticed
when Mrs. Prim chanced to be entertaining the femi-
nine elite of Oakdale across the hall. A convenient little
stairway for retiring husbands and diffident burglars--
yes, indeed!
The darkness of the upper hallway offered no obstacle
to this familiar housebreaker. He passed the tempting
luxury of Mrs. Prim's boudoir, the chaste elegance of
Jonas Prim's bed-room with all the possibilities of forgot-
ten wallets and negotiable papers, setting his course
straight for the apartments of Abigail Prim, the spinster
daughter of the First National Bank of Oakdale. Or
should we utilize a more charitable and at the same time
more truthful word than spinster? I think we should,
since Abigail was but nineteen and quite human, de-
spite her name.
Upon the dressing table of Abigail reposed much sil-
ver and gold and ivory, wrought by clever artisans into
articles of great beauty and some utility; but with scarce
a glance the burglar passed them by, directing his course
straight across the room to a small wall safe cleverly
hidden by a bit of tapestry.
How, Oh how, this suggestive familiarity with the
innermost secrets of a virgin's sacred apartments upon
the part of one so obviously of the male persuasion and,
by his all too apparent calling, a denizen of that under-
world of which no Abigail should have intimate knowl-
edge? Yet, truly and with scarce a faint indication of
groping, though the room was dark, the marauder
walked directly to the hidden safe, swung back the
tapestry in its frame, turned the knob of the combina-
tion and in a moment opened the circular door of the
strong box.
A fat roll of bills and a handful of jewelry he trans-
ferred to the pockets of his coat. Some papers which his
hand brushed within the safe he pushed aside as though
preadvised of their inutility to one of his calling. Then
he closed the safe door, closed the tapestry upon it
and turned toward a dainty dressing table. From a
drawer in this exquisite bit of Sheraton the burglar took
a small, nickel plated automatic, which he slipped into
an inside breast pocket of his coat, nor did he touch
another article therein or thereon, nor hesitate an in-
stant in the selection of the drawer to be rifled. His
knowledge of the apartment of the daughter of the
house of Prim was little short of uncanny. Doubtless the
fellow was some plumber's apprentice who had made
good use of an opportunity to study the lay of the land
against a contemplated invasion of these holy pre-
cincts.
But even the most expert of second story men nod
and now that all seemed as though running on greased
rails a careless elbow raked a silver candle-stick from
the dressing table to the floor where it crashed with a
resounding din that sent cold shivers up the youth's
spine and conjured in his mind a sudden onslaught of
investigators from the floor below.
The noise of the falling candlestick sounded to the
taut nerved house-breaker as might the explosion of a
stick of dynamite during prayer in a meeting house.
That all Oakdale had heard it seemed quite possible,
while that those below stairs were already turning ques-
tioning ears, and probably inquisitive footsteps, upward
was almost a foregone conclusion.
Adjoining Miss Prim's boudoir was her bath and be-
fore the door leading from the one to the other was a
cretonne covered screen behind which the burglar now
concealed himself the while he listened in rigid appre-
hension for the approach of the enemy; but the only
sound that came to him from the floor below was the
deep laugh of Jonas Prim. A profound sigh of relief es-
caped the beardless lips; for that laugh assured the
youth that, after all, the noise of the fallen candlestick
had not alarmed the household.
With knees that still trembled a bit he crossed the
room and passed out into the hallway, descended the
stairs, and stood again in the library. Here he paused
a moment listening to the voices which came from the
dining room. Mrs. Prim was speaking. "I feel quite re-
lieved about Abigail," she was saying. "I believe that at
last she sees the wisdom and the advantages of an
alliance with Mr. Benham, and it was almost with en-
thusiasm that she left this morning to visit his sister.
I am positive that a week or two of companionship
with him will impress upon her the fine qualities of his
nature. We are to be congratulated, Jonas, upon settling
our daughter so advantageously both in the matter of
family and wealth."
Jonas Prim grunted. "Sam Benham is old enough to
be the girl's father," he growled. "If she wants him, all
right; but I can't imagine Abbie wanting a bald-headed
husband with rheumatism. I wish you'd let her alone,
Pudgy, to find her own mate in her own way--someone
nearer her own age."
"The child is not old enough to judge wisely for her-
self," replied Mrs. Prim. "It was my duty to arrange a
proper alliance; and, Jonas, I will thank you not to call
me Pudgy--it is perfectly ridiculous for a woman of my
age--and position."
The burglar did not hear Mr. Prim's reply for he had
moved across the library and passed out onto the ve-
randah. Once again he crossed the lawn, taking advan-
tage of the several trees and shrubs which dotted it,
scaled the low stone wall at the side and was in the
concealing shadows of the unlighted side street which
bounds the Prim estate upon the south. The streets of
Oakdale are flanked by imposing battalions of elm and
maple which over-arch and meet above the thorough-
fares; and now, following an early Spring, their foliage
eclipsed the infrequent arclights to the eminent satis-
faction of those nocturnal wayfarers who prefer neither
publicity nor the spot light. Of such there are few within
the well ordered precincts of lawabiding Oakdale; but
to-night there was at least one and this one was deeply
grateful for the gloomy walks along which he hurried
toward the limits of the city.
At last he found himself upon a country road with
the odors of Spring in his nostrils and the world before
him. The night noises of the open country fell strangely
upon his ears accentuating rather than relieving the my-
riad noted silence of Nature. Familiar sounds became
unreal and weird, the deep bass of innumerable bull
frogs took on an uncanny humanness which sent a half
shudder through the slender frame. The burglar felt a
sad loneliness creeping over him. He tried whistling in
an effort to shake off the depressing effects of this seem-
ing solitude through which he moved; but there re-
mained with him still the hallucination that he moved
alone through a strange, new world peopled by invisible
and unfamiliar forms--menacing shapes which lurked in
waiting behind each tree and shrub.
He ceased his whistling and went warily upon the
balls of his feet, lest he unnecessarily call attention to
his presence. If the truth were to be told it would chron-
icle the fact that a very nervous and frightened burglar
sneaked along the quiet and peaceful country road out-
side of Oakdale. A lonesome burglar, this, who so craved
the companionship of man that he would almost have
welcomed joyously the detaining hand of the law had
it fallen upon him in the guise of a flesh and blood po-
lice officer from Oakdale.
In leaving the city the youth had given little thought
to the practicalities of the open road. He had thought,
rather vaguely, of sleeping in a bed of new clover in
some hospitable fence corner; but the fence corners
looked very dark and the wide expanse of fields be-
yond suggested a mysterious country which might be
peopled by almost anything but human beings.
At a farm house the youth hesitated and was almost
upon the verge of entering and asking for a night's lodg-
ing when a savage voiced dog shattered the peace of
the universe and sent the burglar along the road at a
rapid run.
A half mile further on a straw stack loomed large
within a fenced enclosure. The youth wormed his way
between the barbed wires determined at last to let
nothing prevent him from making a cozy bed in the
deep straw beside the stack. With courage radiating
from every pore he strode toward the stack. His walk
was almost a swagger, for thus does youth dissemble
the bravery it yearns for but does not possess. He al-
most whistled again; but not quite, since it seemed an
unnecessary provocation to disaster to call particular
attention to himself at this time. An instant later he was
extremely glad that he had refrained, for as he ap-
proached the stack a huge bulk slowly loomed from be-
hind it; and silhouetted against the moonlit sky he saw
the vast proportions of a great, shaggy bull. The burglar
tore the inside of one trousers' leg and the back of his
coat in his haste to pass through the barbed wire fence
onto the open road. There he paused to mop the per-
spiration from his forehead, though the night was now
far from warm.
For another mile the now tired and discouraged
house-breaker plodded, heavy footed, the unending
road. Did vain compunction stir his youthful breast? Did
he regret the safe respectability of the plumber's appren-
tice? Or, if he had not been a plumber's apprentice did
he yearn to once again assume the unharried peace of
whatever legitimate calling had been his before he bent
his steps upon the broad boulevard of sin? We think he
did.
And then he saw through the chinks and apertures
in the half ruined wall of what had once been a hay
barn the rosy flare of a genial light which appeared to
announce in all but human terms that man, red blooded
and hospitable, forgathered within. No growling dogs,
no bulking bulls contested the short stretch of weed
grown ground between the road and the disintegrat-
ing structure; and presently two wide, brown eyes were
peering through a crack in the wall of the abandoned
building. What they saw was a small fire built upon
the earth floor in the center of the building and around
the warming blaze the figures of six men. Some reclined
at length upon old straw; others squatted, Turk fash-
ion. All were smoking either disreputable pipes or rolled
cigarets. Blear-eyed and foxy-eyed, bearded and stub-
bled cheeked, young and old, were the men the youth
looked upon. All were more or less dishevelled and
filthy; but they were human. They were not dogs, or
bulls, or croaking frogs. The boy's heart went out to
them. Something that was almost a sob rose in his
throat, and then he turned the corner of the building
and stood in the doorway, the light from the fire playing
upon his lithe young figure clothed in its torn and ill-
fitting suit and upon his oval face and his laughing
brown eyes. For several seconds he stood there looking
at the men around the fire. None of them had noticed
him.
"Tramps!" thought the youth. "Regular tramps." He
wondered that they had not seen him, and then, clear-
ing his throat, he said: "Hello, tramps!"
Six heads snapped up or around. Six pairs of eyes,
blear or foxy, were riveted upon the boyish figure of
the housebreaker. "Wotinel!" ejaculated a frowzy gentle-
man in a frock coat and golf cap. "Wheredju blow
from?" inquired another. "'Hello, tramps'!" mimicked a
third.
The youth came slowly toward the fire. "I saw your
fire," he said, "and I thought I'd stop. I'm a tramp, too,
you know."
"Oh," sighed the elderly person in the frock coat.
"He's a tramp, he is. An' does he think gents like us has
any time for tramps? An' where might he be trampin',
sonny, without his maw?"
The youth flushed. "Oh say!" he cried; "you needn't
kid me just because I'm new at it. You all had to start
sometime. I've always longed for the free life of a tramp;
and if you'll let me go along with you for a little while,
and teach me, I'll not bother you; and I'll do whatever
you say."
The elderly person frowned. "Beat it, kid!" he com-
manded. "We ain't runnin' no day nursery. These you
see here is all the real thing. Maybe we asks fer a hand-
out now and then; but that ain't our reg'lar lay. You
ain't swift enough to travel with this bunch, kid, so
you'd better duck. Why we gents, here, if we was added
up is wanted in about twenty-seven cities fer about ev-
erything from rollin' a souse to crackin' a box and
croakin' a bull. You gotta do something before you can
train wid gents like us, see?" The speaker projected a
stubbled jaw, scowled horridly and swept a flattened
palm downward and backward at a right angle to a
hairy arm in eloquent gesture of finality.
The boy had stood with his straight, black eyebrows
puckered into a studious frown, drinking in every word.
Now he straightened up. "I guess I made a mistake," he
said, apologetically. "You ain't tramps at all. You're
thieves and murderers and things like that." His eyes
opened a bit wider and his voice sank to a whisper as
the words passed his lips. "But you haven't so much on
me, at that," he went on, "for I'm a regular burglar,
too," and from the bulging pockets of his coat he drew
two handfuls of greenbacks and jewelry. The eyes of
the six registered astonishment, mixed with craft and
greed. "I just robbed a house in Oakdale," explained the
boy. "I usually rob one every night."
For a moment his auditors were too surprised to voice
a single emotion; but presently one murmured, soulfully:
"Pipe de swag!" He of the frock coat, golf cap, and
years waved a conciliatory hand. He tried to look at the
boy's face; but for the life of him he couldn't raise his
eyes above the dazzling wealth clutched in the fingers
of those two small, slim hands. From one dangled a
pearl necklace which alone might have ransomed, if
not a king, at least a lesser member of a royal family,
while diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds scintil-
lated in the flaring light of the fire. Nor was the fistful of
currency in the other hand to be sneezed at. There were
greenbacks, it is true; but there were also yellowbacks
with the reddish gold of large denominations. The Sky
Pilot sighed a sigh that was more than half gasp.
"Can't yuh take a kid?" he inquired. "I knew youse
all along. Yuh can't fool an old bird like The Sky Pilot
--eh, boys?" and he turned to his comrades for confirma-
tion.
"He's The Oskaloosa Kid," exclaimed one of the com-
pany. "I'd know 'im anywheres."
"Pull up and set down," invited another.
The boy stuffed his loot back into his pockets and
came closer to the fire. Its warmth felt most comfort-
able, for the Spring night was growing chill. He looked
about him at the motley company, some half-spruce in
clothing that suggested a Kuppenmarx label and a not
too far association with a tailor's goose, others in rags,
all but one unshaven and all more or less dirty--for
the open road is close to Nature, which is principally
dirt.
"Shake hands with Dopey Charlie," said The Sky Pi-
lot, whose age and corpulency appeared to stamp him
with the hall mark of authority. The youth did as he
was bid, smiling into the sullen, chalk-white face and
taking the clammy hand extended toward him. Was it a
shudder that passed through the lithe, young figure or
was it merely a subconscious recognition of the final pass-
ing of the bodily cold before the glowing warmth of the
blaze? "And Soup Face," continued The Sky Pilot. A
battered wreck half rose and extended a pudgy hand.
Red whiskers, matted in little tangled wisps which sug-
gested the dried ingredients of an infinite procession
of semi-liquid refreshments, rioted promiscuously over a
scarlet countenance.
"Pleased to meetcha," sprayed Soup Face. It was a
strained smile which twisted the rather too perfect
mouth of The Oskaloosa Kid, an appellation which we
must, perforce, accept since the youth did not deny it.
Columbus Blackie, The General, and Dirty Eddie
were formally presented. As Dirty Eddie was, physi-
cally, the cleanest member of the band the youth won-
dered how he had come by his sobriquet--that is, he
wondered until he heard Dirty Eddie speak, after which
he was no longer in doubt. The Oskaloosa Kid, self-con-
fessed 'tramp' and burglar, flushed at the lurid obscenity
of Dirty Eddie's remarks.
"Sit down, bo," invited Soup Face. "I guess you're a
regular all right. Here, have a snifter?" and he pulled
a flask from his side pocket, holding it toward The Os-
kaloosa Kid.
"Thank you, but;--er--I'm on the wagon, you know,"
declined the youth.
"Have a smoke?" suggested Columbus Blackie. "Here's
the makin's."
The change in the attitude of the men toward him
pleased The Oskaloosa Kid immensely. They were treat-
ing him as one of them, and after the lonely walk through
the dark and desolate farm lands human companionship
of any kind was to him as the proverbial straw to the
man who rocked the boat once too often.
Dopey Charlie and The General, alone of all the
company, waxed not enthusiastic over the advent of
The Oskaloosa Kid and his priceless loot. These two sat
scowling and whispering in the back-ground. "Dat's a
wrong guy," muttered the former to the latter. "He's a
stool pigeon or one of dese amatoor mugs."
"It's the pullin' of that punk graft that got my goat,"
replied The General. "I never seen a punk yet that didn't
try to make you think he was a wise guy an' dis stiff
don't belong enough even to pull a spiel that would fool
a old ladies' sewin' circle. I don't see wot The Sky Pi-
lot's cozyin' up to him fer."
"You don't?" scoffed Dopey Charlie. "Didn't you lamp
de oyster harness? To say nothin' of de mitful of rocks
and kale."
"That 'ud be all right, too," replied the other, "if we
could put the guy to sleep; but The Sky Pilot won't
never stand for croakin' nobody. He's too scared of his
neck. We'll look like a bunch o' wise ones, won't we?
lettin' a stranger sit in now--after last night. Hell!" he
suddenly exploded. "Don't you know that you an' me
stand to swing if any of de bunch gets gabby in front
of dis phoney punk?"
The two sat silent for a while, The General puffing on
a short briar, Dopey Charlie inhaling deep draughts
from a cigarette, and both glaring through narrowed lids
at the boy warming himself beside the fire where the
others were attempting to draw him out the while they
strove desperately but unavailingly to keep their eyes
from the two bulging sidepockets of their guest's coat.
Soup Face, who had been assiduously communing
with a pint flask, leaned close to Columbus Blackie, plac-
ing his whiskers within an inch or so of the other's nose
as was his habit when addressing another, and whis-
pered, relative to the pearl necklace: "Not a cent less
'n fifty thou, bo!"
"Fertheluvomike!" ejaculated Blackie, drawing back
and wiping a palm quickly across his lips. "Get a plum-
ber first if you want to kiss me--you leak."
"He thinks you need a shower bath," said Dirty Ed-
die, laughing.
"The trouble with Soup Face," explained The Sky Pi-
lot, "is that he's got a idea he's a human atomizer an'
that the rest of us has colds."
"Well, I don't want no atomizer loaded with rot-gut
and garlic shot in my mug," growled Blackie. "What
Soup Face needs is to be learned ettyket, an' if he
comes that on me again I'm goin' to push his mush
through the back of his bean."
An ugly light came into the blear eyes of Soup Face.
Once again he leaned close to Columbus Blackie.
"Not a cent less 'n fifty thou, you tinhorn!" he bellowed,
belligerent and sprayful.
Blackie leaped to his feet, with an oath--a frightful,
hideous oath--and as he rose he swung a heavy fist to
Soup Face's purple nose. The latter rolled over back-
ward; but was upon his feet again much quicker than one
would have expected in so gross a bulk, and as he came
to his feet a knife flashed in his hand. With a sound that
was more bestial than human he ran toward Blackie;
but there was another there who had anticipated his in-
tentions. As the blow was struck The Sky Pilot had
risen; and now he sprang forward, for all his age and
bulk as nimble as a cat, and seized Soup Face by the
wrist. A quick wrench brought a howl of pain to the
would-be assassin, and the knife fell to the floor.
"You gotta cut that if you travel with this bunch,"
said The Sky Pilot in a voice that was new to The Os-
kaloosa Kid; and you, too, Blackie," he continued. "The
rough stuff don't go with me, see?" He hurled Soup
Face to the floor and resumed his seat by the fire.
The youth was astonished at the physical strength of
this old man, seemingly so softened by dissipation; but it
showed him the source of The Sky Pilot's authority and
its scope, for Columbus Blackie and Soup Face quitted
their quarrel immediately.
Dirty Eddie rose, yawned and stretched. "Me fer
the hay," he announced, and lay down again with his
feet toward the fire. Some of the others followed his
example. "You'll find some hay in the loft there," said
The Sky Pilot to The Oskaloosa Kid. "Bring it down an'
make your bed here by me, there's plenty room."
A half hour later all were stretched out upon the hard
dirt floor upon improvised beds of rotted hay; but not
all slept. The Oskaloosa Kid, though tired, found him-
self wider awake than he ever before had been. Appar-
ently sleep could never again come to those heavy eyes.
There passed before his mental vision a panorama of
the events of the night. He smiled as he inaudibly voiced
the name they had given him, the right to which he had
not seen fit to deny. "The Oskaloosa Kid." The boy
smiled again as be felt the 'swag' hard and lumpy in
his pockets. It had given him prestige here that he could
not have gained by any other means; but he mistook
the nature of the interest which his display of stolen
wealth had aroused. He thought that the men now
looked upon him as a fellow criminal to be accepted into
the fraternity through achievement; whereas they suf-
fered him to remain solely in the hope of transferring
his loot to their own pockets.
It is true that he puzzled them. Even The Sky Pilot,
the most astute and intelligent of them all, was at a loss
to fathom The Oskaloosa Kid. Innocence and unsophisti-
cation flaunted their banners in almost every act and
speech of The Oskaloosa Kid. The youth reminded him
in some ways of members of a Sunday school which had
flourished in the dim vistas of his past when, as an or-
dained minister of the Gospel, he had earned the so-
briquet which now identified him. But the concrete
evidence of the valuable loot comported not with The
Sky Pilot's idea of a Sunday school boy's lark. The young
fellow was, unquestionably, a thief; but that he had ever
before consorted with thieves his speech and manners
belied.
"He's got me," murmured The Sky Pilot; "but he's got
the stuff on him, too; and all I want is to get it off of
him without a painful operation. Tomorrow'll do," and
he shifted his position and fell asleep.
Dopey Charlie and The General did not, however,
follow the example of their chief. They remained very
wide awake, a little apart from the others, where their
low whispers could not be overheard.
"You better do it," urged The General, in a soft, in-
sinuating voice. "You're pretty slick with the toad stab-
ber, an' any way one more or less won't count."
"We can go to Sout' America on dat stuff an' live
like gents," muttered Dopey Charlie. "I'm goin' to cut
out de Hop an' buy a farm an' a ottymobeel and--"
"Come out of it," admonished The General. "If we're
lucky we'll get as far as Cincinnati, get a stew on and
get pinched. Den one of us'll hang an' de other get stir
fer life."
The General was a weasel faced person of almost
any age between thirty-five and sixty. Sometimes he
could have passed for a hundred and ten. He had won
his military title as a boy in the famous march of Coxey's
army on Washington, or, rather, the title had been con-
ferred upon him in later years as a merited reward of
service. The General, profiting by the precepts of his
erstwhile companions in arms, had never soiled his mil-
itary escutcheon by labor, nor had he ever risen to the
higher planes of criminality. Rather as a mediocre pick-
pocket and a timorous confidence man had he eked out
a meager existence, amply punctuated by seasons
of straight bumming and intervals spent as the guest of
various inhospitably hospitable states. Now, for the first
time in his life, The General faced the possibility of a
serious charge; and his terror made him what he never
before had been, a dangerous criminal.
"You're a cheerful guy," commented Dopey Charlie;
"but you may be right at dat. Dey can't hang a guy any
higher fer two 'an they can fer one an' dat's no pipe;
so wots de use. Wait till I take a shot--it'll be easier,"
and he drew a small, worn case from an inside pocket,
bared his arm to the elbow and injected enough mor-
phine to have killed a dozen normal men.
From a pile of mouldy hay across the barn the youth,
heavy eyed but sleepless, watched the two through half
closed lids. A qualm of disgust sent a sudden shudder
through his slight frame. For the first time he almost re-
gretted having embarked upon a life of crime. He had
seen that the two men were conversing together earn-
estly, though he could over-hear nothing they said, and
that he had been the subject of their nocturnal colloquy,
for several times a glance or a nod in his direction as-
sured him of this. And so he lay watching them--not
that he was afraid, he kept reassuring himself, but
through curiosity. Why should he be afraid? Was it not
a well known truth that there was honor among thieves?
But the longer he watched the heavier grew his lids.
Several times they closed to be dragged open again only
by painful effort. Finally came a time that they remained
closed and the young chest rose and fell in the regular
breathing of slumber.
The two ragged, rat-hearted creatures rose silently
and picked their way, half-crouched, among the sleepers
sprawled between them and The Oskaloosa Kid. In the
hand of Dopey Charlie gleamed a bit of shiny steel and
in his heart were fear and greed. The fear was engend-
ered by the belief that the youth might be an amateur
detective. Dopey Charlie had had one experience of
such and he knew that it was easily possible for them to
blunder upon evidence which the most experienced of
operatives might pass over unnoticed, and the loot bulg-
ing pockets furnished a sufficient greed motive in them-
selves.
Beside the boy kneeled the man with the knife. He
did not raise his hand and strike a sudden, haphazard
blow. Instead he placed the point carefully, though
lightly, above the victim's heart, and then, suddenly, bore
his weight upon the blade.
Abigail Prim always had been a thorn in the flesh of her
stepmother--a well-meaning, unimaginative, ambitious,
and rather common woman. Coming into the Prim home
as house-keeper shortly after the death of Abigail's
mother, the second Mrs. Prim had from the first looked
upon Abigail principally as an obstacle to be overcome.
She had tried to 'do right by her'; but she had never
given the child what a child most needs and most
craves--love and understanding. Not loving Abigail, the
house-keeper could, naturally, not give her love; and as
for understanding her one might as reasonably have ex-
pected an adding machine to understand higher mathe-
matics.
Jonas Prim loved his daughter. There was nothing,
within reason, that money could buy which he would
not have given her for the asking; but Jonas Prim's love,
as his life, was expressed in dollar signs, while the love
which Abigail craved is better expressed by any other
means at the command of man.
Being misunderstood and, to all outward appearances
of sentiment and affection, unloved had not in any way
embittered Abigail's remarkably joyous temperament.
made up for it in some measure by getting all the fun
and excitement out of life which she could discover
therein, or invent through the medium of her own re-
sourceful imagination.
But recently the first real sorrow had been thrust into
her young life since the half-forgotten mother had been
taken from her. The second Mrs. Prim had decided that
it was her 'duty' to see that Abigail, having finished
school and college, was properly married. As a match-
maker the second Mrs. Prim was as a Texas steer in a
ten cent store. It was nothing to her that Abigail did
not wish to marry anyone, or that the man of Mrs.
Prim's choice, had he been the sole surviving male in
the Universe, would have still been as far from Abigail's
choice as though he had been an inhabitant of one of
Orion's most distant planets.
As a matter of fact Abigail Prim detested Samuel
Benham because he represented to her everything in
life which she shrank from--age, avoirdupois, infirmity,
baldness, stupidity, and matrimony. He was a prosaic
old bachelor who had amassed a fortune by the simple
means of inheriting three farms upon which an indus-
trial city subsequently had been built. Necessity rather
than foresight had compelled him to hold on to his prop-
erty; and six weeks of typhoid, arriving and departing,
had saved him from selling out at a low figure. The first
time he found himself able to be out and attend to busi-
ness he likewise found himself a wealthy man, and ever
since he had been growing wealthier without personal
effort.
All of which is to render evident just how impossible a
matrimonial proposition was Samuel Benham to a bright,
a beautiful, a gay, an imaginative, young, and a witty
girl such as Abigail Prim, who cared less for money than
for almost any other desirable thing in the world.
Nagged, scolded, reproached, pestered, threatened,
Abigail had at last given a seeming assent to her step-
mother's ambition; and had forthwith been packed off
on a two weeks visit to the sister of the bride-groom
elect. After which Mr. Benham was to visit Oakdale as
a guest of the Prims, and at a dinner for which cards al-
ready had been issued--so sure was Mrs. Jonas Prim of
her position of dictator of the Prim menage--the engage-
ment was to be announced.
It was some time after dinner on the night of Abigail's
departure that Mrs. Prim, following a habit achieved by
years of housekeeping, set forth upon her rounds to see
that doors and windows were properly secured for the
night. A French window and its screen opening upon
the verandah from the library she found open. "The
house will be full of mosquitoes!" she ejaculated men-
tally as she closed them both with a bang and made them
fast. "I should just like to know who left them open.
Upon my word, I don't know what would become of
this place if it wasn't for me. Of all the shiftlessness!"
and she turned and flounced upstairs. In Abigail's room
she flashed on the center dome light from force of habit,
although she knew that the room had been left in proper
condition after the girl's departure earlier in the day.
The first thing amiss that her eagle eye noted was the
candlestick lying on the floor beside the dressing table.
As she stooped to pick it up she saw the open drawer
from which the small automatic had been removed, and
then, suspicions, suddenly aroused, as suddenly became
fear; and Mrs. Prim almost dove across the room to the
hidden wall safe. A moment's investigation revealed the
startling fact that the safe was unlocked and practically
empty. It was then that Mrs. Jonas Prim screamed.
Her scream brought Jonas and several servants upon
the scene. A careful inspection of the room disclosed the
fact that while much of value had been ignored the bur-
glar had taken the easily concealed contents of the wall
safe which represented fully ninety percentum of the
value of the personal property in Abigail Prim's apart-
ments.
Mrs. Prim scowled suspiciously upon the servants.
Who else, indeed, could have possessed the intimate
knowledge which the thief had displayed. Mrs. Prim
saw it all. The open library window had been but a
clever blind to hide the fact that the thief had worked
from the inside and was now doubtless in the house at
that very moment.
"Jonas," she directed, "call the police at once, and see
that no one, absolutely no one, leaves this house until
they have been here and made a full investigation."
"Shucks, Pudgy!" exclaimed Mr. Prim. "You don't think
the thief is waiting around here for the police, do you?"
"I think that if you get the police here at once, Jonas,
we shall find both the thief and the loot under our very
roof," she replied, not without asperity.
"You don't mean--" he hesitated. "Why, Pudgy, you
don't mean you suspect one of the servants?"
"Who else could have known?" asked Mrs. Prim. The
servants present looked uncomfortable and cast sheep-
ish eyes of suspicion at one another.
"It's all tommy rot!" ejaculated Mr. Prim; "but I'll call
the police, because I got to report the theft. It's some
slick outsider, that's who it is," and he started down
stairs toward the telephone. Before he reached it the bell
rang, and when he had hung up the receiver after the
conversation the theft seemed a trivial matter. In fact
he had almost forgotten it, for the message had been
from the local telegraph office relaying a wire they had
just received from Mr. Samuel Benham.
