The White Falcon - 14.03.1942, Page 5

PAGE 5
THE LAST JOB
She Knows All the Answers. It’s Just Her Fault of Giving Them
at the Wrong Time that Starts Trouble.
By DOLORES GLOVER
CUTIES By E. Simms Campbell
v Registered L*. S. Patent Office £
r,n —--------------------------- W D
('•l'. Ivt.'. Kmi! Features Syndicate. Inc.. World rights reserved
“Just a little wider, Miss. A littleYnore .
can get my finger out!”

just so. I
Dixie Moler was nervous. The
jewels she had stolen from Mary
Conway’s guests lay in a bag un-
derneath the pillow of her bed.
She looked at the watch on her
slender arm. Fifteen minutes of
11 and Warren was due at 11.
An uncontrollable desire seiz-
ed her to look at them again. She
walked over to the bed, swept
them up, and went into the bath-
room. First she locked the door,
and then she opened the bag.
They lay in glittering splend-
or in her palm. The sapphire of
Josephine Ordway, the brooch
belonging to Alva Gordon, June
Hammond’s, necklace and Mrs.
Conway’s diamond tiara. Not
until tomorrow would they be
missed.
She slipped them on, one after
the other, and surveyed herself
in the mirror, entranced with
her regal appearance. Supposing
all this really belonged to her.
Supposing that one night she
would walk into Mary’s house
decked out in gems equally
lovely. She laughed a little to
herself. Not yet, but some day'
—perhaps.
Then fright overcame her,
and she removed them hastily.
Quickly she slipped off her own
solitaire and added it to the loot,
so that she, too, would be in-
cluded among those who had
been robbed. She unlocked the
door and stepped out. The figure
of a man standing before her
startled her. Then she drew a
sigh of relief. “Warren!”
“You got them!” His dark
handsome face grinned approv-
al. Silently she handed him the
bag. He kissed her quickly.
“This is the last job, honey.
You’ve my promise.”
She smiled and nodded. He
kissed her again and disappear-
ed through the French Window
in the room across the hall.
It was two weeks since the
theft, and still everyone was
under suspicion. The police had
forbidden any person who had
been present at Mary Conway’s
party to leave the city, and al-
though Dixie’s ‘credentials were
the best, being one of Mary’s
close friends, she was still jitt-
ery over the whole affair.
They might easily have su-
spected Warren had he been
present that night, but Warren
had been clever enough to stay
away from her. Dixie’s fingers
trembled a little as she twisted
a blonde curl over the electric
iron while her mind ran over
the possibilities of the police
course of action.
There was a knock at the
door, and Dixie said, “Yes, who
is it?”
“Open up!” It was Warren’s
voice, and she ran to let him in.
“The police have located the
stuff,” he . said excitedly and
without prelude. “They were
trailing me and I had to unload
fast. I turned the lot over to
Mort Higgins and they picked
him up yesterday for receiving
jewels. Higgins will talk under
pressure, and I’ve got to get out
of here.”
“And what am I supposed to
do? Sit around until they pin the
rap on me?”
“Don’t be a fool. No one will
suspect you. Higgins doesn’t
know that you’re alive. You sit
tight and wait. I’ll write you
when things ease up a bit.”
He swept her to him in a
quick embrace. “Goodby, hon-
ey,” and left her breathlessy
aware that she would do it all
over again if lie wanted her to.
She moved to the window and
watched the street below. Warr-
en came out of the building, got
into bis car, and drove away.
Later that day she stepped
into the lobby.
“Miss Moler?” a polite voice
asked.
“Yes,” she said, her heart
sinking.
“I’m from headquarters, miss.
We’re rounding up the whole
party again, and I know you
won’t mind coming along to
corroborate any statements that
are made. We’ve got two of the
men already.”
“Two of the men!” Dixie felt
faint. “Who are they?”
“Warren Day and Mort Higg-
ins. Wfe’d like you to come over
and identify your ring.”
• Dixie pulled herself together.
“Of course,” she said, flashing
the officer her best smile. “Are
we going to the station?”
“The inspector asked me to
bring you to his office.”
When Dixie entered the off-
ice everyone wag assembled.
A young man, looking very
shrewd as lie stood behind the
desk, said, “I have here the stol-
en jewelry.” He held up the sapp-
hire and Josephine let out a
little squeal of pleasure as she
claimed it. Next the brooch and
then Dixie’s solitaire. Dixie
moved forward.
“This is your ring, Miss Mol-
er?” the inspector asked pleas-
antly.
“Yes, it is.”
“Miss Moler,” he began, “do
you know Warren Day?”
“Warren Day?” Her eyebrows
lifted. “Why I do believe I’ve
heard the name before.”
“Warren Day,” the inspector
went on, weighing his words,
“is the guilty man. But he did
not commit the actual theft. He
had an accomplice.”
The inspector brought for-
ward the tiara. “Do you remem-
ber this, Miss Moler?”
“Yes, of course. It belongs to
Mary’s mother.”
“Tell me, Miss Moler,” he said
abruptly, “do you use a very hot
iron to curl your hair?” ,
“Yes, of course,” she said im-
patiently. Then she stopped.
Her face drained of color as
the inspector continued. “A wo-
man’s vanity is a strange thing.
I imagine any woman would
try on a tiara just to see how
it looked on her. And that is ex-
actly, what you did.”
An expectant hush filled the
room.
“This tuft of burned hair was
caught in the setting, and you,
Miss Moler, are the only woman
present who curls her hair with
an iron.”
Arrange Get-Together
For Kansas City Officers
Army and navy officers who
hail from Greater Kansas City
are the object of a search by Leo
Branham, Associated Press
correspondent in Iceland, and
Lieut. George Trial, quarter-
master, who are arranging a
get-together of the officers from
the “heart of America”.
Tenative date of the get-to-
gether is March 21—22 at which
time the party will meet at Mr.
Branham’s room in the Vik
hotel and then go to the Borg
hotel for dinner. For arrange-
ments call Mr. Branham at
Reykjavik 1733, or Lieut. Trial
through the army exchange.