THE TORN PAGE
My had dinner late; we were through with the and once more in the room when the of the French window rattled, the window itself was pushed open, and a high voice proclaimed,
"The Princess of China, calling on Mr. Worth Gilbert."
There Ina Vandeman in the of a high Chinese lady, her by a black that out something odd, almost ominous, in the of her skin, the very of her features. Outside, along the porch, the of many feet; Skeet through the narrow under her tall sister's arm, came into the room to turn and at her.
"Doesn't she look the vamp?"
"Skeet!" Ina had in by this time, and Ernestine more soberly. "You've been told not to say that."
"I think," the other her up virtuously, "with mother and all, you might respect her wishes. You know what she said about calling Ina a vamp." And Skeet innocently,
"That it too near the truth to be funny—wasn't that it?"
Through the open window had a dozen more of the Blossom Festival crowd, Barbara and Bronson Vandeman among them. Ina paid no attention to any one, there, her by the long, lines of the costume, her a strange, by the of its and and green and gold and the black wig.
"Isn't it an thing, Worth?" herself him. "Bronse has a complete Mandarin costume; we lead the as the and of Mongolia. Don't you think it's a good idea?"
"First rate." Worth spoke in his fashion, and it was difficult to say he meant the idea or the of the girl who him. She came close and offered the of one of her to him the embroidery, a to the at the neck.
Barbara over on the other of the room to meet my eye. Mrs. Bowman, a big piece up around her throat, shivered. I met a dozen Santa Ysobel people names I've forgotten. I see that Bronson Vandeman took the lead here, that looked to him. The room was a of talk, when a minutes later the in fashion, and Chung Cummings in upon the confusion. Some of the and spoke to him; others didn't and had to be presented; it took the of his time and attention. He only got a for one at me, a low-toned, sarcastic,
"Made a mistake to me, Boyne."
I didn't think it while to answer that. Presently I saw him with Barbara. He was a of his to the ball, for I Skeet's,
"Mr. Cummings wants a ticket! He'll need two! Ten dollars, Mr. Cummings—five apiece."
"No, no—Skeet," Barbara laughed embarrassedly. "Mr. Cummings was just joking. He'll not be here Saturday night."
"I'll come for it," hand in pocket.
"It's a masquerade—" Barbara hesitated.
"Bring my with me from San Francisco."
"I'm not sure—" again Barbara hesitated; Skeet cut in on her,
"Why, Barbie Wallace! It's what you came to Santa Ysobel for—the Bloss. Fes. ball. And to think of your a perfectly good man, right at the last minute this way, and not having to on to Bronse and Ina or something like that! I think you're the lucky girl," and she Cummings' offered payment to it with other she had collected.
At last they got themselves out of the room and left us alone with Cummings. He had through his little with Barbara as though it meant to him, but I that his with Worth was serious, and put in quickly,
"I to or phone you to-morrow, Cummings."
"Well," the lawyer his mouth a under that and looked at Worth, "it might have saved you some if you'd been of my here to-night—earlier, that is. I Captain Gilbert has told you that I him, when I failed to with you, that I was here—and what I was for?"
"I didn't tell Jerry," Worth up a cigarette. "Couldn't very well tell him what you were for. Don't know myself."
The were blunt; I think there was no to offend, only the of a fact; but I see Cummings to simmer, as he inquired,
"Does that you didn't my on the phone, or that you them and couldn't make out what I meant by them?"
"Little of both," allowed Worth. Cummings close to him and let him have it direct:
"I'm here to-night, Captain Gilbert, as of your father's estate. I have the will to-day. I might have done so earlier, but when I this place (you remember, the day the funeral—you were here at the time) I failed to a of your father's estate."
"You failed to locate? All the estate's here; this house, the down-town properties. What do you mean, failed to locate?"
"I was not to realty," said Cummings. "It's my to and report to the the present of seventy-five thousand of stock in the Van Ness Avenue Savings Bank. Can you to me as executor, where it is? And, if any other person than your father it in its present whereabouts, are you to to me how and when it came into that person's possession?"
"Quite a of words, Cummings; but it doesn't anything," Worth said casually. "You know where that bank stock is and who put it there."
"Officially, I do not know. Officially, I to be told."
"Unofficially, answer it for yourself." Worth his on the lawyer to a match from the mantel.
"Very well. My answer is that I to out how and when that bank stock which a part of your payment to the Van Ness Avenue bank from this house."
I admit I was scared. Here was the gun of the battle; and I was sure this enemy, who now looking through closed at the lad's back, would have among his weapons. He had the "when." He that the of Worth's night visit to his father were true; that the by Barbara and myself in my office, was false; that Worth had either the stock from his father that Saturday night or taken it unlawfully. I was sure that it was the stock which I had Worth take from the safe-compartment of the in the small hours of Monday morning; a of legal which it would be possible for a to pass over.
"Cummings, Worth under his father's will; what's the about a small in taking possession? He—"
"Never explain, Jerry," Worth me up. "Your friends don't need it, and your won't it."
Cummings had where he was since the of the interview. His livid. There was more in this than a legal fight.
"Yes, Boyne's a to try to help your case with explanations, Gilbert," he out. "I'll see that of you a to answer questions elsewhere—under oath. Good evening." He and left.
He had the best of it all around. I for some time to Worth the of his high-handed of law, order, judges, and the court's officers, in the person of Allen G. Cummings, attorney and his father's executor. He listened, yawned—and that it must be nearly bedtime. I gave it up, and we went—I, at least, with a of ahead upon me—to our rooms.
Along in the middle of the night I to the knowledge that a window was in the house. For a while I and in that helpless, one at such a time. I'd off, nearly to sleep, only to be again by the thudding. Listening I that the window was in Worth's room, and I got up and to roll out of bed, my into slippers, and over with the of locking it.
The room was from the lamps, away as they were; I my way across it. Worth's deep, regular was undisturbed. I had trouble with the catch, and over the and his flashlight, the window by its help, and returning it, how near I came to it off the top, to put it in a which open.
As I it downward, its circle of something a from the of and of collars—a book—a red morocco-bound book. Mechanically I the away with the itself. What there me cold. It was the 1920 diary!
My relaxed; the with a thump, as I let out an of dismay. A voice from the bed,
"Hi, you Jerry! What you up to in here?"
For answer, I out the book, over to the bed, and on the reading lamp there. Worth in the glare, and his arms up of his for a pillow to it a bit.
"Yeah," at the volume. "Meant to tell you. Found it to-day when I was in the repair at the garage. It had been in the there."
"And I suppose," I said savagely, "that if I hadn't come onto it now, you'd have this, too."
"Don't sore, Jerry," he said. "I saved it," and he yawned.
I had an to have a look at that last entry, which would record the final this boy and his father. No about the spot; as I the book in my hands it open of itself at the place. I looked and what I saw me—got cross-wise in my for a moment so no come out. I the book under his nose, and it there till I whisper.
"Worth, did you do this?"
The last page was numbered 49; on it was recorded the date, March sixth; the weather, cloudy, late in the afternoon; the that the sun had set red in a sky; and it ended in the middle of a phrase. The that page 50 had been out; not cut away as were those in the book, but loose, with that and the below!
He my hand away and at me. For a moment I was over. Certainly I not be a very sight, there with fear, my all up on my where I'd it, in my more from than from cold; but somehow those of his softened; he gave me one of the looks that people who for Worth will go to get, and said quietly,
"You see what you're doing? I told you I didn't the book, so that me in your mind of being the murderer. Now you're after me about this torn-out page. If I'd it out and it—you and I would know what it would mean."
"But, boy—," I began, when he a of heart.
"Get out of here! Take that book and leave."
He himself over in the bed, the about his ears, his on me. As I away, I him in a of mutter—as though to himself—
"I'm sorry for you, Jerry Boyne."
