Buckeye Valley News And Buckeye Review

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THE STORY SO FAR—Joan Leland, secretary, falls in love with Karl Miller, her employer, owner of a night club. She spurns secret invitations from Eric Strom, Karl's business partner, and Paul Sherman, his manager. Her sister, Sybil, does not approve of Karl, but Joan blindly defends him, even when Paul, in a friendly manner, warns her about Karl. Karl shoots Eric in Joan's presence, tricks her into placing her finger-prints on the gun, then admits he is a Nazi spy with a wife in Germany. He tells Joan unless she continues to work and remain silent about the murder, he will blame it on her. The terrified girl agrees and later Paul reveals himself as Paul O'Malley of the FBI, working to trap the higher-ups of the spy ring. Sybil fails to come home, and a suicide note later is thought by them to mean Karl intended to hold her as a hostage. Joan agrees secretly to help Paul, and reports that Karl has hired a beautiful young girl to sing, and is already making love to her. It's Paul's runaway sister. Joan gets her to share her apartment. Paul and Joan search the beauty shop of Mrs. Murdock, who had employed Sybil at Karl's suggestion.

Now continue with the story.

CHAPTER XII
The light revealed a desk, a short-wave radio set and three large filing cabinets. He drew on a pair of gloves. "Don't touch anything," he cautioned Joan.

Joan's heart was in her throat. "Oh Paul, what if Karl should find out we were here?"

"By that time," Paul replied grimly, "it will be too late."

Joan looked curiously at the radio set. "Do you suppose Karl has a receiver too?"

"Probably, though where it would be I don't know."

He opened a drawer of the desk. "Doesn't seem to be anything here."

"Wait!" Joan cried. "What's this?" She seized a gray glove lying among pencils and bits of papers. "This is Sybil's glove!" she said excitedly. "She always wore these with her suit, and she was wearing that suit the day she disappeared."

Paul gazed speculatively at the slender gray glove. "It could mean that Sybil discovered this room, that she knew what was going on in here, and that's why Karl put her out of the way."

Joan pressed the glove against her cheek. "Oh Syb!" she wept.

"I still think Sybil is alive," Paul said. "Karl is saving her as an ace up his sleeve. In that way she is of more use to him living than dead. Anyway, that's my hunch. It will be better if you can believe it too."

"I'll try," Joan gulped, controlling herself with an effort.

Half an hour passed while Paul's nimble fingers explored the contents of drawer after drawer.

He tapped the walls but they revealed nothing. It was Joan who cried, "Paul! Look at this desk. There's something odd about it."

There seemed to be a panel on the side of the desk. "You're right," Paul said, and gently forcing the wood, he pulled it to one side. "Here we are!" he said as they both gazed into a small hidden compartment. Eagerly Paul thrust in his hand and drew forth a large envelope. He opened it. "Look Joan! These are the plans for that bombing plane. We were right!"

Joan peered over his shoulder at the unintelligible writing. "What do they say?"

Paul smiled excitedly as he ran his eyes over the pages. "Plenty! There's enough here to convict Karl and Mrs. Murdock as well as some others!"

"Let's get out of here, quick," Joan begged, glancing back at the half-open panel which had admitted them.

"While we're here I'm going to take a last look around to see if I can find a copy of that code."

Joan watched his brown head bend over the drawer. Her heart went out to him in gratitude for his kindness. "This is really the end of our search then?" she asked.

"It looks like it." "I wish we were out of here," Joan repeated. "I have a feeling something else is about to happen."

Paul laughed. "You women and your intuition!"

But Joan shivered nervously as she waited for Paul to finish.

In a downtown hotel, Karl Miller was dancing with Pat. "You're a darling!" he murmured against her hair.

"Oh Karl, I love you so much."

He smiled. "You are happy, liebchen?"

"I still can't believe it," Pat said, turning her radiant face to his. "Just think . . . Mrs. Karl Miller."

"We can't be married for two or three months yet," Karl told her.

"I don't care. I'm so happy."

Pat gazed down at the emerald, a magnificent jewel which flashed green fire from her hand. "It's such a beautiful ring! Joan will be so surprised."

"No doubt," Karl smiled. "And Paul too?"

"Paul? Why should Paul be surprised?"

The music had stopped now and they returned to their table. "What has Paul got to do with us?" Karl demanded.

Pat looked embarrassed. She had promised not to reveal Paul's identity under any circumstances. "Oh, nothing," she faltered.

But Karl was not to be side-tracked. "What is there between you and Paul?"

Pat laughed. "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous? Of course I am. I insist upon knowing."

"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone," Pat hesitated.

Karl's voice was smoothly persuasive. "But, liebchen, we are going to be married. You must not have any secrets from your husband."

Pat's brown eyes were troubled. "Well, I don't know."

Karl took her hand. "You must tell me," he insisted.

"I suppose now that we are engaged, it's different," Pat admitted. "Anyway it's really nothing for you to be jealous about. You see, Paul is my brother. He's using an assumed name because some time ago he used to work for the government."

"Indeed?" Karl Miller said, rising quickly. "I find that information extremely interesting."

It seemed to Joan that Paul was taking an unnecessarily long time looking for the code. She watched impatiently as he rechecked each drawer, wondering at his calm deliberation.

"Please hurry, Paul! Let's get out of here."

"Queer I can't find it. They must have it here somewhere."

"What does it matter now? We have the other evidence. You said these papers incriminate Karl. Isn't that enough?"

"I always like to do a thorough job while I'm at it."

"Wait! Oh Paul, I hear something! Someone is coming down the hall!"

She ran to the open panel and gazed through the office to the hallway leading to the street, but she could see nothing.

"You're just nervous," Paul said. "I'll be through in a minute. Sit down and relax."

"I'm sure I heard someone. What if Karl has found out?" Joan said, sitting down at the desk where Sybil's glove remained among the pile of papers. "He's too clever to let us get away with this."

"Karl's not as clever as you may imagine," Paul told her, "or he wouldn't leave these papers for me to find."

"It all seems too easy," Joan insisted. "There must be a catch to it."

"We've waited long enough to get Karl," he reminded her. "I knew that eventually we'd catch up with him. Haven't you ever heard that crime does not pay?" He actually seemed amused.

"I don't see anything funny about it!"

"You're a sweet kid!" Paul said. "And you've been a big help to me." "Please let's get out of here!" She was on the verge of tears.

Paul glanced around the small room. Papers were strewn on the floor, even carelessly over the radio equipment.

"This untidy mess will be quite a surprise to our friends," he commented.

"Are we going to the authorities now?"

Paul picked up the envelope. "Right. And in here we have enough to keep Karl Miller out of circulation for good."

Joan took Sybil's glove and put it in her purse, but before she could fasten the clasp, Karl Miller's voice came to them from the open panel. "I thought I'd find you here."

His powerful figure filled the small doorway. He held a gun. Paul reached for his coat, but Karl was too quick for him.

"No use trying that, Mr. O'Malley."

Joan backed against the wall, her eyes fastened, as though hypnotized, upon Karl's face.

"You need not be frightened," Karl told her. "I am principally interested in Paul. Too bad he has such a talkative sister."

"So Pat told you?"

Joan marveled at Paul's indifference.

"Yes. It might interest you to know that she thinks I am about to become your brother-in-law."

At last Paul's anger was aroused. "You dirty rat!"

Karl smiled. "I assure you I have no intention of going through with it. As you no doubt know, I already have one wife."

"What have you done with her?" Paul demanded.

"Shut up! Give me that envelope. We're getting out of here. Come on, Joan, I'll keep you with me."

Paul walked ahead and Karl followed with Joan. His grasp on her arm was painful but she did not wince. She was too proud to let Karl Miller see that he had hurt her.

There was a long ride down the Embarcadero. Neither Karl nor Paul spoke. As they went through the warehouse and up the swaying steps of the gangplank, Joan was surprised at her own calmness. She was no longer afraid of Karl Miller. She followed Paul's example of superb indifference.

On deck Paul and Joan were led to a small shabby cabin, and the door locked behind them.

"Cozy?" Paul grinned.

"Paul! You act as though you actually enjoy this."

His face grew serious. "I don't like it for your sake, Joan. But so far as I'm concerned, it couldn't have worked out better."

"What do you mean?"

"I counted on Karl's finding us at the beauty shop. I wanted him to. I think he'll lead us to the rest of the gang this way."

Joan sat down gingerly on a dirty, faded chintz chair. "But you said those papers were enough."

Paul lit a cigarette. "They were, but I still have a few ends to tie. We're not in any actual danger yet. Trust me for that."

Paul watched Joan as she explored their tiny prison. "You have more nerve than any other girl I ever saw," he said, admiringly, repeating what he had said the night Karl killed Strom and Joan had promised to help trap Karl after Paul revealed he was an FBI man.

"My knees are shaking," Joan admitted, smiling. "But I wouldn't let Karl know how I felt. It would give him too much satisfaction."

"Good girl!" Paul approved. "And," Joan continued, "this may be your idea of 'no actual danger' but it doesn't seem that way to me."

The gentle throb of the ship's engines warned them the freighter was moving.

"Here we go," Paul said. "Try to trust me, Joan, that this is the best way. I took you with me tonight deliberately because I was afraid that it would be worse for you if you were left behind."

"What about Pat?"

"Pat doesn't know anything. They won't be apt to harm her."

In the dim light of a small electric bulb they waited. As the ship rolled more, Paul said, "We're going through the Gate now. We'll soon be on the open sea."

"Where is Karl taking us? Can't you tell me that?"

"I'd rather not. The first thing to find out is how he intends to get rid of those plans," he added. "Might ship them to a submarine."

"A submarine!" Joan cried in dismay.

"It's not a pretty picture, is it?" Paul said grimly. "That's why I don't want you to know too much."

Karl did not reappear but a sailor unlocked the door and mumbled something to Paul in German. "He says he'll show you to your cabin," Paul explained.

"I'd rather stay here!"

But Paul advised her to go without objection, so Joan followed the sailor out on deck. He opened a door and motioned for her to go inside. Hesitatingly she obeyed.

There was a bunk with a quilt folded neatly upon it, a washstand and one porthole through which Joan could see the deck. Fog enveloped the sea and it was impossible to tell how far away from shore they were.

In a few minutes she heard the sound of footsteps, and sitting up she saw that Paul was being shown into the cabin next to hers. Even though the door was locked behind him and a sailor remained on guard outside, Joan was comforted to know that he was near.

Joan had not expected to have any rest that night but she found herself overcome with fatigue. She wakened to feel the warmth of the sun upon her face.

(TO BE CONTINUED)