The Oakdale Affair | Page 4

his all too
apparent calling, a denizen of that under- world of which no Abigail should have intimate
knowl- edge? Yet, truly and with scarce a faint indication of groping, though the room
was dark, the marauder walked directly to the hidden safe, swung back the tapestry in its
frame, turned the knob of the combina- tion and in a moment opened the circular door of
the strong box.
A fat roll of bills and a handful of jewelry he trans- ferred to the pockets of his coat.
Some papers which his hand brushed within the safe he pushed aside as though
preadvised of their inutility to one of his calling. Then he closed the safe door, closed the
tapestry upon it and turned toward a dainty dressing table. From a drawer in this exquisite
bit of Sheraton the burglar took a small, nickel plated automatic, which he slipped into an
inside breast pocket of his coat, nor did he touch another article therein or thereon, nor
hesitate an in- stant in the selection of the drawer to be rifled. His knowledge of the
apartment of the daughter of the house of Prim was little short of uncanny. Doubtless the
fellow was some plumber's apprentice who had made good use of an opportunity to study
the lay of the land against a contemplated invasion of these holy pre- cincts.
But even the most expert of second story men nod and now that all seemed as though
running on greased rails a careless elbow raked a silver candle-stick from the dressing
table to the floor where it crashed with a resounding din that sent cold shivers up the
youth's spine and conjured in his mind a sudden onslaught of investigators from the floor
below.
The noise of the falling candlestick sounded to the taut nerved house-breaker as might the
explosion of a stick of dynamite during prayer in a meeting house. That all Oakdale had
heard it seemed quite possible, while that those below stairs were already turning ques-
tioning ears, and probably inquisitive footsteps, upward was almost a foregone
conclusion.
Adjoining Miss Prim's boudoir was her bath and be- fore the door leading from the one to
the other was a cretonne covered screen behind which the burglar now concealed himself
the while he listened in rigid appre- hension for the approach of the enemy; but the only
sound that came to him from the floor below was the deep laugh of Jonas Prim. A
profound sigh of relief es- caped the beardless lips; for that laugh assured the youth that,
after all, the noise of the fallen candlestick had not alarmed the household.
With knees that still trembled a bit he crossed the room and passed out into the hallway,
descended the stairs, and stood again in the library. Here he paused a moment listening to
the voices which came from the dining room. Mrs. Prim was speaking. "I feel quite re-
lieved about Abigail," she was saying. "I believe that at last she sees the wisdom and the
advantages of an alliance with Mr. Benham, and it was almost with en- thusiasm that she
left this morning to visit his sister. I am positive that a week or two of companionship
with him will impress upon her the fine qualities of his nature. We are to be congratulated,
Jonas, upon settling our daughter so advantageously both in the matter of family and
wealth."

Jonas Prim grunted. "Sam Benham is old enough to be the girl's father," he growled. "If
she wants him, all right; but I can't imagine Abbie wanting a bald-headed husband with
rheumatism. I wish you'd let her alone, Pudgy, to find her own mate in her own
way--someone nearer her own age."
"The child is not old enough to judge wisely for her- self," replied Mrs. Prim. "It was my
duty to arrange a proper alliance; and, Jonas, I will thank you not to call me Pudgy--it is
perfectly ridiculous for a woman of my age--and position."
The burglar did not hear Mr. Prim's reply for he had moved across the library and passed
out onto the ve- randah. Once again he crossed the lawn, taking advan- tage of the several
trees and shrubs which dotted it, scaled the low stone wall at the side and was in the
concealing shadows of the unlighted side street which bounds the Prim estate upon the
south. The streets of Oakdale are flanked by imposing battalions of elm and maple which
over-arch and meet above the thorough- fares; and now, following an early Spring, their
foliage eclipsed the infrequent arclights to the eminent satis- faction of those nocturnal
wayfarers who prefer neither publicity nor the spot light. Of such there are few within the
well ordered precincts of lawabiding