The Bismarck Tribune

AFRAID to LOVE
By FAXON EDWARDS
CHAPTER XXIX
ARRIVING in Manhattan at 5 o'clock from Green Hills Dorothy repeated to herself: "I am Joan Barrett. I am afraid of being accused of murder. Where shall I go? Where can I hide?"
The first editions of the evening papers were already on the streets, and the mysterious death of John Ware Hendry headlined every front page. Dorothy bought a copy and went into the waiting room to read it. So far only the barest details had been made public.
"Police are concerned," she read, "over the simultaneous disappearance of Miss Joan Barrett secretary to the murdered man. As far as can be determined, Miss Barrett was the last person to see Mr. Hendry alive." That was all, there was no reference to Joan's past.
As she folded the paper together, her eye fell upon the classified advertisements on page 23. The words "Rooms to let" struck her forcefully.
"Rooms to let." she repeated to herself.
SHE stopped, abruptly, a sudden idea occurring to her. This was the afternoon paper; Joan, arriving in town before dawn, would have bought an early morning edition. She left her paper on the seat and rushed to the news-stand
"Have you a morning paper?" she demanded breathlessly.
The clerk looked under the counter. "Just one left," he replied. It's a little torn .. ."
"That's all right. I'll take it."
The classified ads, she noticed were intact. That was enough.
She hurried back to the waiting room and began to check off the advertised rooms in order of location. She worked desperately There were so many ads-so many columns of ads -in the morning paper.
She made a list of all those which had a telephone number, She could phone them; that would save several hours work.
She rushed back to the news- stand again, and changed three one-dollar bills for nickels. The clerk looked at her in astonishment, and after she left, he tapped his head. expressively. "Nuts!" he confided to the young man at the other end of the counter.
By 5 o'clock she had spent 84 nickels and called 50 numbers.
A dozen irate customers had glared at her for monopolizing the phone booth, and one man threatened to call an officer, But she kept on, despite them.
She spoke to 40-odd different women-shrill women and soft- spoken women; suspicious women and curious women; reticent women and garrulous women, She heard every epithet that was ever applied in the glorification of the furnished room; she promised a dozen women that she and her sister would take-the room with. out doubt on the morrow.
But no woman admitted that a young lady, slim and blond, had taken her room that day.
Her list of phone numbers was depleted; now she must visit the other rooms listed. She must work systematically and hurriedly, because the time was slipping by so quickly. Through the windows of the terminal she could see that darkness was already beginning to fall . . .
She wondered whether it would be better to start on the east side and work north, or so all the way up town on the west side and work south, She chose the latter route, since she might lose an hour or more going from east to west in the upper part of the city.
She took the west side subway express to the last stop on the line, This was the location of the first room on her list.
She told the landladies, as she met them, the same story she had used over the telephone, varying it to suit the occasion. Her facial muscles ached from smiling so continually and so convincingly: her head rang with the dull echo of her own voice.
From one address to another she hurried; when the distance in between was too great, she took a bus or a taxi. She climbed endless, consecutive flights of stairs...
But she found no trace of Joan.
Discouraged and defeated, all manner of doubts assailed her.
She kept on, nevertheless.
It was after seven o'clock now, closer to eight, she put other people looking for rooms in earnest, and they complicated her mission and delayed her.
One fact encouraged her, Evidently few rooms had been rented that day. And those women who had rented successfully were eager to boast of their good fortune. But none had rented to a slim, blond young lady . .
At nine o'clock she was downtown again, to Columbus Circle, and she changed her course and went over east, to work uptown.
At nine-thirty a woman informed her severely that it was too late to show the room that night; she had better come back in the morning...
"I'll try a few more." Dorothy persisted. "Just. a few more, until it's ten o'clock. Not every- body goes to bed so early."
It was exactly quarter to ten when she climbed the steps of the untidy house on the poor side street..
"May I inquire if a young lady took the room this morning?" Dorothy asked mechanically.
"A young woman? Yes indeed A slim, blond young lady...Miss Andrews."
Miss Andrews. Joan had borrowed the name Bob wanted so badly to give to her. Tears of relief sprang into Dorothy's eyes, and she longed to hug Mrs. Griggs, dirty and unpleasant as the woman appeared.
She checked herself, cautiously.
"No," she said. "I don't think I'll see her just now. I do want to be sure it's she, however . . ."
She searched through her bag and drew forth a snapshot of Joan. "Is this she? she inquired tremulously.
"Yes, that's the one," Mrs. Griggs said immediately.
"Your sister, eh?"
"YES ... she left home hurriedly this morning . . ."
She thought quickly for some sort of explanation.
"She quarreled -with her boy friend. We've both been looking for her all day . . May I phone him and send him around? He wants to patch up their quarrel ..."
"Sure thing!" Mrs. Griggs agreed heartily, a trace ofa smile lighting up her face. "We've no phone here, but you can find one in the drug store on the corner."
"Thank you so much!" Dorothy breathed.
She rushed to the corner drug store, though her knees trembled now and threatened to sink beneath her weight. But her heart was light, and her headache had vanished in a quick whirl of joy.
If only she could reach Bob!
(To Be Continued)