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Page 2
Mr. Pomeroy, her father, was away on one of the long trips he was
accustomed to make. He was a breeder of fine cattle, and bought
and sold continually. His wife was dead, and Elinor was all in
all to the man who was lonely even when surrounded by his three
fine children. Elinor was thinking of the dear little mother who
had passed away, and wishing that she could be with them at a
time when Lester was to know the greatest pride of his life.
Supper was on, and she stood by the table thinking tenderly.
Then she frowned. She was conscious of the racket Colonel, the
big collie was making in his run. It occurred to her that the
dog had been raving for an hour past, but she had been so intent
on supper that she had laid the uproar to Lester who loved to
play with the bunch and get them excited.
She stepped toward the window to speak to Colonel, when she heard
a shout from Wugs. The shout wavered, and turned to a wild, high
scream of horror. Elinor stood motionless. Then shriek after
shriek split the air, and the girl sped to the front door, dashed
it open, snapping on the porch light as she passed the switch in
the hall. She gained the steps in her mad rush and paused.
Wugs's agonized voice guided her down to the side of the wide
veranda. She dashed to his side and looked down where he was
kneeling.
Poor, poor Elinor! Her brother--her darling Lester--lay there
limp and distorted, and from an ugly wound on his forehead the
blood oozed slowly. Beside him, her head on his breast, his
Beatrice, his special pet. She was dead; but with her last
strength she had crept to the side of her beloved master she
tried to defend.
Wugs looked up, his eyes wild with terror.
"He's dead! He's dead! Les is dead!" he kept saying.
Elinor knelt, put her ear on his heart, then sprang to her feet.
"Be a man, John," she, said quietly. "Les is living. We will
have to work fast to save him."
After that it was all a terrible 'nightmare'. Men came, and
tender, strong hands lifted the unconscious burden and gently
laid it on the bed where the little mother had lain so long
before she had passed away into rest. Other hands, just as
gentle, carried the dead body of little Beatrice around to the
garage where, while decently washing the blood from her poor
battered little head, they found a piece of rough, dark cloth
clenched in the dog's set jaws.
And the nightmare went on while some one telegraphed to Mr.
Pomeroy, and the doctors behind closed doors worked over Lester.
Nurses slipped silently into the house; detectives appeared,
roped the curious people out of the grounds, and raked the place
for clews. It was then that Elinor had a thought. She called
the chief of police, and took him into the library, shutting the
door.
"Lester was always teasing me, Chief, because I was so afraid of
spies, but we may as well consider anything now. My brother had
just perfected the most wonderful invention--a war device; and
the board of directors at the works tried it out this afternoon.
The formula was in Lester's coat pocket--the only formula there
is. I know it was there, because I told him I thought it was a
careless way to carry it. He laughed at the idea of any one
around here getting hold of it, and said anyway the formula was
in his head.
"I have looked in his coat pockets, all of them.
"The formula is gone."
"That's it, is it?" gritted the detective. "I am sure you are
right, Miss Pomeroy. We have a reason for the deed now, and one
clew to act on." He opened his hand and showed her the piece of
cloth that poor little Beatrice had torn from the intruder's
garment.
"Did you ever see anything like this before?" he asked. "That is
an unusual pattern. You have a lot of extra help here just now.
Did you ever notice a coat or a cap like this?"
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