Part 13 (2/2)

”Why, Lad!” she cried ”Laddie! We were so worried about you They just phoned froht have known you'd find your way to us We--”

She got no further Up the walk, fro e;--a man whose face bore traces of lather; and athed in a purple bathrobe

Flapping slippers ill-covered his sockless feet

The Master recognized the fast-advancing newconized hiazines

This was Rutherford Garretse, world-famed author and collector; the literary lion and chief celebrity of the suenius could account for his costuhbor's houess

Nor did the visitor's first words clear up theat the foot of the steps, Rutherford Garretse gesticulated in duht for breath and for coherent speech Then, disregarding Har staccato speech

”That dog!” he croaked ”That--that--DOG! The o up to my study She was afraid to follow, at first

But in a fewout of my study!

COME!!! I demand it All of you COME!”

Without another word, he wheeled andonly to beckon iroup on the veranda followed Deaf to their questions, he led the way Lad fell into line behind the perplexed Mistress

Down the road to the next house, stalked Rutherford Garretse At the doorway, he repeated his draesture and commanded:

”COME!”

Up the broad stairs he stamped Behind hi happily along with the Mistress At the open door of a large room at the stairhead, the author stood aside and pointed in silent despair through the doorway

”What's up?” queried Har--?”

His question ended in a grunt And, like the others, he stared aghast on the scene before him

The room, very evidently, was a study But h, with hundreds of pages of torn and crumpled paper

The desk-top and a Sheraton cabinet and table were bare of all contents On the floor reposed countless shattered articles of glass and porcelain; juether with blotters an pastepot and shears and ink-stand and other utensils Ink had been poured in grotesque pattern on rugs and parquetry andcurtains

In one corner lay a typewriter, its keys twisted and its carriage broken Books--soutted and ink-sh the daze of general horror booly majestic voice of Rutherford Garretse

”I wanted you to see!” he declai left as it was That mess of papers all over the floor is what remains of the first draft of my book The book I have been at work on for six , there!” sputtered theover discipline ”I c'n swear the roo out of place; and all the paper where Mr Garretse had stacked 'em in his portfolio, yonder I dusted this study and then the dining room And then I went out to sweep the veranda; like I always do, before breakfast And maybe ten minutes later I see this brute trot out of Mr Har up the steps and into the house And when I followed hi like it is, now; and I yells to Mr Garretse, and he's shaving, and--”

”That will do, Esther!” snapped the author ”And, now, sir--”

”But, Mr Garretse,” put in the Mistress, ”Lad never did such a thing as this, in all his life! He's been brought up in the house Even as a puppy, he was--”

”The evidence shows otherwise,” interrupted Garretse, with a visible struggle at self-control ”No human, unless he were aNo other ani this room And my work of six months is not only destroyed by hilass-and-porcelain cabinet”