Part 10 (2/2)
Then she spoke.
”I went to the hairdresser's in the block below. Returning, I stopped to take a letter out of the mail box and then started up the stairs to my apartment.” At this point she pa.s.sed her hand over her hair and smiled as she realized its disheveled appearance now. ”As I turned up the flight to this floor, I saw a man crouched down before the door of this apartment. He did not hear me until I reached the top of the stairs. Then he jumped up, and seeing me, tried to push by. Remembering the burglary, or whatever it was, upstairs, I knew I should try to stop him. So I seized his coat and we started to struggle. Instantly I saw him draw back his arm, then I felt the blow. I remember nothing of what happened from that moment until I awoke just now on this davenport.”
Marsh sat up and clenched his hands. ”If I knew what the fellow looked like I would thrash him the next time I saw him,” he threatened, hoping thus to draw out the description he wanted.
”Oh, I can describe him--at least in a general way. He was short, not much over five feet, and quite thin. His face had a peaked look.
While we struggled his hat fell off and I saw that he was almost bald. His nose was large, and taken with his thin face and rather large bright eyes, it seems to me now that he looked just like an eagle.”
”Had you ever seen him before?” Morgan asked.
”Never,” she answered, and the positive note in her voice could not be mistaken.
”I will send your description to all the stations,” said Morgan. ”We will try to get that fellow.”
Morgan went to the telephone and called the Detective Bureau. He gave the necessary directions, and as he returned to his chair, remarked, ”In an hour or two this won't be a safe town for that fellow.”
”You are the detective who came to see me!” exclaimed the girl.
”Perhaps this is the man you are looking for.”
”Perhaps,” agreed Morgan. ”I can tell better after I get my hands on him.”
”Oh, my!” cried the girl, and began to search about the davenport.
The two men suspected she was looking for the letter, and they were relieved to see the photographer appear in the doorway at that moment.
”Have you lost something?” inquired Marsh.
”Yes, the letter I took out of the mail box.”
”Here it is, Miss,” said the photographer, stepping forward and presenting the letter to her. ”I picked it up in the hall where you dropped it.”
She took it and thanked him. ”I'm so glad you found it,” she added.
”It is from my father, and I have not heard from him in a long time.
I feel better now and will go home.”
She rose slowly with the words. Noting her weakness, Marsh stepped to her side and slipped his arm under hers.
”Let me help you up the stairs,” he said, gently.
”Thank you,” she returned, simply, realizing her need of help.
”I'll wait until you come back, Marsh,” said Morgan.
The girl started. ”Are you Mr. Marsh?” she exclaimed. Then, as Marsh nodded, she added, ”Why, you are the man who sent this detective up to see me.”
Marsh glanced quickly at Morgan, who, behind the girl's back, dropped one eyelid slowly and significantly.
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