LITMIR.BIZ

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frowned Craig. “Why, I sent you no package, Miss Dodge. In the safe?”

      “Why, yes, and the safe is all covered with moisture—and so cold.”

      “Moisture—cold?” he repeated quickly.

      “Yes, I have been wondering if it is all right. In fact, I was going to call you up, only I was afraid you’d think I was foolish.”

      “I shall be right over,” he answered hastily, clapping the receiver back on its hook. “Walter,” he added, seizing his hat and coat, “come on—hurry!”

      A few minutes later we drove up in a taxi before the Dodge house and rang the bell.

      Jennings admitted us sleepily.

      It could not have been long after we left Miss Dodge late in the afternoon that Susie Martin, who had been quite worried over our long absence after the attempt to rob her father, dropped in on Elaine. Wide-eyed, she had listened to Elaine’s story of what had happened.

      “And you think this Clutching Hand has never recovered the incriminating papers that caused him to murder your father?” asked Susie.

      Elaine shook her head. “No. Let me show you the new safe I’ve bought. Mr. Kennedy thinks it wonderful.”

      “I should think you’d be proud of it,” admired Susie. “I must tell father to get one, too.”

      At that very moment, if they had known it, the Clutching Hand with his sinister, masked face, was peering at the two girls from the other side of the portieres.

      Susie rose to go and Elaine followed her to the door. No sooner had she gone than the Clutching Hand came out from behind the curtains. He gazed about a moment, then moving over to the safe about which the two girls had been talking, stealthily examined it.

      He must have heard someone coming, for, with a gesture of hate at the safe itself, as though he personified it, he slipped back of the curtains again.

      Elaine had returned and as she sat down at the desk to go over some papers which Bennett had left relative to settling up the estate, the masked intruder stealthily and silently withdrew.

      “A package for you, Miss Dodge,” announced Michael later in the evening as Elaine, in her dainty evening gown, was still engaged in going over the papers. He carried it in his hands rather gingerly.

      “Mr. Kennedy sent it, ma’am. He says it contains clues and will you please put it in the new safe for him.”

      Elaine took the package eagerly and examined it. Then she pulled open the heavy door of the safe.

      “It must be getting cold out, Michael,” she remarked. “This package is as cold as ice.”

      “It is, ma’am,” answered Michael, deferentially with a sidelong glance that did not prevent his watching her intently.

      She closed the safe and, with a glance at her watch, set the time lock and went upstairs to her room.

      No sooner had Elaine disappeared than Michael appeared again, cat-like, through the curtains from the drawing room, and, after a glance about the dimly lighted library, discovering that the coast was clear, motioned to a figure hiding behind the portieres.

      A moment, and Clutching Hand himself came out.

      He moved over to the safe and looked it over. Then he put out his hand and touched it.

      “Good, Michael,” he exclaimed with satisfaction.

      “Listen!” cautioned Michael.

      Someone was coming and they hastily slunk behind the protecting portieres. It was Marie, Elaine’s maid.

      She turned up the lights and went over to the desk for a book for which Elaine had evidently sent her. She paused and appeared to be listening. Then she went to the door.

      “Jennings!” she beckoned.

      “What is it, Marie?” he replied.

      She said nothing, but as he came up the hall led him to the center of the room.

      “Listen! I heard sighs and groans!”

      Jennings looked at her a moment, puzzled, then laughed. “You girls!” he exclaimed. “I suppose you’ll always think the library haunted, now.”

      “But, Jennings, listen,” she persisted.

      Jennings did listen. Sure enough, there were sounds, weird, uncanny. He gazed about the room. It was eerie. Then he took a few steps toward the safe. Marie put out her hand to it, and started back.

      “Why, that safe is all covered with cold sweat!” she cried with bated breath.

      Sure enough the face of the safe was beaded with dampness. Jennings put his hand on it and quickly drew it away, leaving a mark on the dampness.

      “Wh-what do you think of that?” he gasped.

      “I’m going to tell Miss Dodge,” cried Marie, genuinely frightened.

      A moment later she burst into Elaine’s room.

      “What is the matter, Marie?” asked Elaine, laying down her book. “You look as if you had seen a ghost.”

      “Ah, but, mademoiselle—it ees just like that. The safe—if mademoiselle will come downstairs, I will show it you.”

      Puzzled but interested, Elaine followed her. In the library Jennings pointed mutely at the new safe. Elaine approached it. As they stood about new beads of perspiration, as it were, formed on it. Elaine touched it, and also quickly withdrew her hand.

      “I can’t imagine what’s the matter,” she said. “But—well— Jennings, you may go—and Marie, also.”

      When the servants had gone she still regarded the safe with the same wondering look, then turning out the light, she followed.

      She had scarcely disappeared when, from the portiered doorway nearby, the Clutching Hand appeared, and, after gazing out at them, took a quick look at the safe.

      “Good!” he muttered.

      Noiselessly Michael of the sinister face moved in and took a position in the center of the room, as if on guard, while Clutching Hand sat before the safe watching it intently.

      “Someone at the door—Jennings is answering the bell,” Michael whispered hoarsely.

      “Confound it!” muttered Clutching Hand, as both moved again behind the heavy velour curtains.

      “I’m so glad to see you, Mr. Kennedy,” greeted Elaine unaffectedly as Jennings admitted us.

      She had heard the bell and was coming downstairs as we entered. We three moved toward the library and someone switched on the lights.

      Craig strode over to the safe. The cold sweat on it had now turned to icicles. Craig’s face clouded with thought as he examined it more closely. There was actually a groaning sound from within.

      “It can’t be opened,” he said to himself. “The time lock is set for tomorrow morning.”

      Outside, if we had not been so absorbed in the present mystery, we might have seen Michael and the Clutching Hand listening to us. Clutching Hand looked hastily at his watch.

      “The deuce!” he muttered under his breath, stifling his suppressed fury.

      We stood looking at the safe. Kennedy was deeply interested, Elaine standing close beside him. Suddenly he seemed to make up his mind.

      “Quick—Elaine!” he cried, taking her arm. “Stand back!”

      We all retreated. The safe door, powerful as it was, had actually begun to warp and bend. The plates were bulging. A moment later, with a loud report and concussion the door blew off.

      A blast of cold air and flakes like snow flew out. Papers were

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