Produced by Judith Boss
THE OAKDALE AFFAIR
By Edgar Rice Burroughs
Chapter One [And only chapter ED.]
The house on the hill showed lights only upon the first floor--inthe spacious reception hall, the dining room, and those more or lessmysterious purlieus thereof from which emanate disagreeable odors andagreeable foods.
From behind a low bush across the wide lawn a pair of eyes transferredto an alert brain these simple perceptions from which the brain deducedwith Sherlockian accuracy and Raffleian purpose that the family of thepresident of The First National Bank of--Oh, let's call it Oakdale--wasat dinner, that the servants were below stairs and the second floordeserted.
The owner of the eyes had but recently descended from the quarters ofthe chauffeur above the garage which he had entered as a thief inthe night and quitted apparelled in a perfectly good suit of clothesbelonging to the gentlemanly chauffeur and a soft, checked cap which wasnow pulled well down over a pair of large brown eyes in which a ratherstrained expression might have suggested to an alienist a certainneophytism which even the stern set of well shaped lips could noteffectually belie.
Apparently this was a youth steeling himself against a naturalrepugnance to the dangerous profession he had espoused; and when, amoment later, he stepped out into the moonlight and crossed the lawntoward the house, the slender, graceful lines which the ill-fittingclothes could not entirely conceal carried the conviction of youth ifnot of innocence.
The brazen assurance with which the lad crossed the lawn and mountedthe steps to the verandah suggested a familiarity with the habits andcustoms of the inmates of the house upon the hill which bespoke long andcareful study of the contemplated job. An old timer could not have movedwith greater confidence. No detail seemed to have escaped his cunningcalculation. Though the door leading from the verandah into thereception hall swung wide to the balmy airs of late Spring the prowlerpassed this blatant invitation to the hospitality of the House of Prim.It was as though he knew that from his place at the head of the table,with his back toward the great fire place which is the pride of thePrim dining hall, Jonas Prim commands a view of the major portion of thereception hall.
Stooping low the youth passed along the verandah to a window of thedarkened library--a French window which swung open without noise to hislight touch. Stepping within he crossed the room to a door which openedat the foot of a narrow stairway--a convenient little stairway whichhad often let the Hon. Jonas Prim pass from his library to his secondfloor bed-room unnoticed when Mrs. Prim chanced to be entertaining thefeminine elite of Oakdale across the hall. A convenient little stairwayfor retiring husbands and diffident burglars--yes, indeed!
The darkness of the upper hallway offered no obstacle to this familiarhousebreaker. He passed the tempting luxury of Mrs. Prim's boudoir, thechaste elegance of Jonas Prim's bed-room with all the possibilities offorgotten wallets and negotiable papers, setting his course straightfor the apartments of Abigail Prim, the spinster daughter of the FirstNational Bank of Oakdale. Or should we utilize a more charitable and atthe same time more truthful word than spinster? I think we should, sinceAbigail was but nineteen and quite human, despite her name.
Upon the dressing table of Abigail reposed much silver and gold andivory, wrought by clever artisans into articles of great beauty and someutility; but with scarce a glance the burglar passed them by, directinghis course straight across the room to a small wall safe cleverly hiddenby a bit of tapestry.
How, Oh how, this suggestive familiarity with the innermost secrets of avirgin's sacred apartments upon the part of one so obviously of themale persuasion and, by his all too apparent calling, a denizen of thatunderworld of which no Abigail should have intimate knowledge? Yet,truly and with scarce a faint indication of groping, though the room wasdark, the marauder walked directly to the hidden safe, swung back thetapestry in its frame, turned the knob of the combination and in amoment opened the circular door of the strong box.
A fat roll of bills and a handful of jewelry he transferred to thepockets of his coat. Some papers which his hand brushed within the safehe pushed aside as though preadvised of their inutility to one of hiscalling. Then he closed the safe door, closed the tapestry upon it andturned toward a dainty dressing table. From a drawer in this exquisitebit of Sheraton the burglar took a small, nickel plated automatic, whichhe slipped into an inside breast pocket of his coat, nor did he touchanother article therein or thereon, nor hesitate an instant in theselection of the drawer to be rifled. His knowledge of the apartment ofthe daughter of the house of Prim was little short of uncanny. Doubtlessthe fellow was some plumber's apprentice who had made good use of anopportunity to study the lay of the land against a contemplated invasionof these holy precincts.
But even the most expert of second story men nod and now that all seemedas though running on greased rails a careless elbow raked a silvercandle-stick from the dressing table to the floor where it crashedwith a resounding din that sent cold shivers up the youth's spine andconjured in his mind a sudden onslaught of investigators from the floorbelow.
The noise of the falling candlestick sounded to the taut nervedhouse-breaker as might the explosion of a stick of dynamite duringprayer in a meeting house. That all Oakdale had heard it seemed quitepossible, while that those below stairs were already turning questioningears, and probably inquisitive footsteps, upward was almost a foregoneconclusion.
Adjoining Miss Prim's boudoir was her bath and before the door leadingfrom the one to the other was a cretonne covered screen behind whichthe burglar now concealed himself the while he listened in rigidapprehension for the approach of the enemy; but the only sound that cameto him from the floor below was the deep laugh of Jonas Prim. A profoundsigh of relief escaped the beardless lips; for that laugh assured theyouth that, after all, the noise of the fallen candlestick had notalarmed the household.
With knees that still trembled a bit he crossed the room and passed outinto the hallway, descended the stairs, and stood again in the library.Here he paused a moment listening to the voices which came from thedining room. Mrs. Prim was speaking. "I feel quite relieved aboutAbigail," she was saying. "I believe that at last she sees the wisdomand the advantages of an alliance with Mr. Benham, and it was almostwith enthusiasm that she left this morning to visit his sister. I ampositive that a week or two of companionship with him will impress uponher the fine qualities of his nature. We are to be congratulated, Jonas,upon settling our daughter so advantageously both in the matter offamily 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 Abbiewanting a bald-headed husband with rheumatism. I wish you'd let heralone, Pudgy, to find her own mate in her own way--someone nearer herown age."
"The child is not old enough to judge wisely for herself," replied Mrs.Prim. "It was my duty to arrange a proper alliance; and, Jonas, I willthank you not to call me Pudgy--it is perfectly ridiculous for a womanof my age--and position."
The burglar did not hear Mr. Prim's reply for he had moved across thelibrary and passed out onto the verandah. Once again he crossed thelawn, taking advantage of the several trees and shrubs which dotted it,scaled the low stone wall at the side and was in the concealing shadowsof the unlighted side street which bounds the Prim estate upon thesouth. The streets of Oakdale are flanked by imposing battalions of elmand maple which over-arch and meet above the thoroughfares; and now,following an early Spring, their foliage eclipsed the infrequentarclights to the eminent satisfaction of those nocturnal wayfarerswho prefer neither publicity nor the spot light. Of such there are fewwithin the well ordered precincts of law abiding Oakdale; but to-nightthere was at least one and this one was
deeply grateful for the gloomywalks along which he hurried toward the limits of the city.
At last he found himself upon a country road with the odors of Springin his nostrils and the world before him. The night noises of the opencountry fell strangely upon his ears accentuating rather than relievingthe myriad noted silence of Nature. Familiar sounds became unrealand weird, the deep bass of innumerable bull frogs took on an uncannyhumanness which sent a half shudder through the slender frame. Theburglar felt a sad loneliness creeping over him. He tried whistling inan effort to shake off the depressing effects of this seemingsolitude through which he moved; but there remained with him still thehallucination that he moved alone through a strange, new world peopledby invisible and unfamiliar forms--menacing shapes which lurked inwaiting behind each tree and shrub.
He ceased his whistling and went warily upon the balls of his feet, lesthe unnecessarily call attention to his presence. If the truth were