The Syracuse and Lake Wawasee Journal, Volume 15, Number 22, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 28 September 1922 — Page 2

The Big-Town Round Up

CHAPTER XVl—Continued. • * —ll—- — trouble was that Whitford ivag arguing from false premises. He was assuming that Clarendon was an inno-. cent loan, whereas the clubman knew just how guilty he was. Back of the killing lay a conspiracy which might come to light during the investigation. He dared not luce tlie police. His conscience was not dean enough. “Os course Dad’s right. It’s the only way to save your reputation,” Beatrice cried. “I’m not going to leave you till you promise to go straight down there to headquarters. If you don’t you'll be smirched for life —and you'd la* doing something absolutely dishonorable.” He came to time with a heart of heavy dread. “All right,, Bee, I’ll go. lie promised. “It’s an awful mess, but I’ve got to go through with it, I suppose." "Os course you have," she said with complete conviction. “You’re not a quitter, and you can’t hide here like a criminal.” “We’ll have to be moving. Bee,” her father reminded her. “You know we have a’n appointment to meet the district attorney.” Beatrice maided. With a queer feeling of repulsion she patted her fiance's cheek with her soft hand and whispered a word of comfort to him. “Buck up, old hoy. It won’t be half as-had as you think. Nobody is going to blaihe you.” They/were shown out by the valet. “Viif don’t want to be hard on Bromfleld, Whitford told his daughter after they had re-entered their car. “He's a parlor man. That's the way he’s been brought up. Never did a hard day’s work in his life. Everything made easy tor him. If he’d ever ridden out a blizzard like Clay or stuck it out in a mine for a week without food after a cave-in, he wouldn’t balk on the Job before him. But he’s soft. And he’s afraid of ids reputation. That's natural, I suppose.” Beatrice knew he was talking to save her feelings. “You don’t need to make excuses for him, Dad,” she answered gently, with a wry smile. “I've got to give up. I don’t think I can go through with it.” “You mean—marry him ?’’ "Yes.” She added, with a flare of passionate scorn of herself: “I deserve what I’ve got. I knew all the time I didn't love him. It was sheer selfishness in me to accept him. I wanted what he had to give me.” Iler father drew a deep breath of relief. “I'm glad you see that, Bee. I don’t think he’s good enough for you. But I don’t know anybody that is, come to that." “That's just your partiality. I’m a mean little bounder or I never should have led him on," the girl answered in frank disgust. Both of them felt smirched. The behavior of Bromfield had been a reflection on them. They had picked him for a thoroughbred, and he had failed them at the first test. f “VVell, I haven’t been proud of you in that affair," conceded Colin. “It didn’t seem like my girl to —” He broke off in characteristic fashion to berate tier environment. “It’s this crawy town. The spirit of it gets into a person and he accepts its standards. Let’s get away from here for a while, sweetheart.” “After Clay is out of trouble, Dad. I’ll go with you back to Denver or to Europe or anywhere you say.” H “Tlmt’s a deal,” lie told her promptly. “\Ve 4 M stay till after the annual election of the company .and then go oft on a honeymoon together, Bee.” CHAPTER XVII Into the Hands of His Enemy. Durand waited alone for word to be /lashed him that the debt he owed Clay Lindsay had been settled in full. A telephone lay on the desk close ar hand and beside it was a watch. The second-hand ticked its way jerkily round hnd round the circle. Except for that the stillness weighed 'on him urtbearably. He paced up and down the room chewing nervously the end of an unlit cigar. For the good tidings which he was anxious to hear was news of the death of the strong young enemy who had beaten him at every turn. Why didn’t Collins get to the telephone? Was it possible that there had been a slip-up, that Lindsay had agajn broken the trap sgt for him? Had “Slim’s” nerve failed him? Or had Bromfield been unable to bring the victim to the slaughter? His mind went over the details again. The thing had been well planned even to the unguarded door through which Collins was to escape. In the darkness “Slim” could do the job, make his getaway along with Dave, and be safe from any chance of Identification. Tromfleld, to save his own hide, would ceep still. If he didn’t, Durand was irepared to shift the murder upon his shoulders. The minute-hand of the watch passed down from the quarter to the half and from the half to the three-quarters. Still the telephone bell did not ring. The gang leader began to sweat blood. £lnd some one bungled after all tire enre with which he had laid his plans? A door slammed below. Hurried footsteps sounded «»n the stair treads. Into the room burst a man. ‘Slim's been croaked,” he blurted. , “What!” Durand’s eyes dilated. “At Maddock’s.” “Who did it?” “De guy he was to gun.” “Lindsay?” I “Dat’s de fellow.” “Did the bulls get Lindsay?” “Pinched him right on de spot.” , “Gun ‘Slim,’ did he?” “Nope. Knocked him cold wit* a ehair. Cracked his skull.” “Is he dead?”

By William MacLeod Raine

.■.■.V.W.WAW.'/.V.W.W.Y.V. “He’ll never be deader. Dave grabbed this sucker Lindsay and yelled that he i done it. Tlie bulls pinched him like 1 i said right there." “Did it happen in the dark?” “Sure as you’re a foot high. My Joi' ■ was dousin’ the glims, and I done it right.” “What about ‘SlimT Was he shooting when he got it?” Tlie other man shook his head. “This ■ Lindsay man claims he was. I talked wit’ a bull afterward. Dey didn’t find ■ no gun on ‘Slim.’ The bull says there was no gun play.” “What became of ‘Slim’s’ gun?” “Search me.” Durand slammed a big fist exultantly down on the desk. “Better than the way I planned it. If the gun’s gone. I’ll frame Lindsay for the chair. It’s Salt creek for his.” He lost no time In getting into touch with Gorilla Dave, who was under arrest\at the station house. From him he learned the story of the killing of Collins. One whispered detail of it filled him with malicious glee. “The boob! He’ll go to the death chair sure If I can frame him. We’re lucky Bromfleld ran back into the little room. Up in front a dozen guys might have seen the whole play even in the dark.” Durand spent the night strengthening the web he had spun to destroy his enemy. He passed to and fro among those who had been arrested in the raid and he arranged the testimony of some of them to suit his case. More than one of the men caught in the dragnet of the police was willing to see the affray from the proper angle in exchange for protection from prosecution. After breakfast Durand went to the Tombs, where Clay had been transferred at daybreak. “You needn’t bring the fellow here,” he told the warden. “I’ll go right to his cage and see him. I wantta have a talk with him.” Between two guards Clay climbed the iron steps to an upper tier of cages at the Tombs. He was put into a cell which held two beds, one above the other, as in the cabin of an ocean liner. By the side of the bunks was a narrow space Just long enough for tl<stnan to take two steps in the An unshaven head was lim'd in the lower bunk to see why the sleep of its owner was being disturbed. “I’ve brought you a cell mate, Shiny," explained one of the guards. “You want to be civil to him. He’s just croaked a friend of yours.” "For de love o’ Gawd. Who did h« croak?” “ ‘Slim’ Jim Collins. Cracked him one on tlie bean and that was a-plenty. Hope you’ll enjoy each other’s society, gents.” The guard closed the door and departed. “Is that right? Did youse do lip ‘Slim,’ or was he kiddin’ me?” “I don't reckon we’ll discuss that subject.” said Clay "blandly, but with a note of finality in his voice. “No offense, boss' It’s an honor to have so distinguished a gent for a cell pal. For that matter I ain’t no cheap rat myself. Dey pinched me for shovin’ de queer. I’d might to get fifteen years," he said proudly. This drew a grin from Lindsay, though not exactly a merry one. "If you’re anxious for a long term you can have some of mine,” he told the counterfeiter. "Maybe you’ll go up Salt creek,” said Shiny hopefully. Afraid the allusion might not be understood, he thoughtfully explained that this was the underworld term for the electric chair. Clay made no further comment. He found the theme a gruesome one. “Anyhow, I’m glad dey didn’t put no holster nor damper-getter wit’ me. I’m partickler who I meet. De whole proiw wJf'' fc, jifl-fft. 1 . nO fJ \ V, \\ AwwjKSjBML ; mh i .w w \i 1 * I 1 He Paced Up and Down the Room, Chewing Nervously the End of an Unlit Cigar. * fesh is gettin’ run down at de heel. ? I’m dead sick of rats Who can’t do 1 nothin’ but lift pokes,” concluded the ;. occupant of the lower berth with disgust. Though Clay’s nerves were of the best he did very little sleeping that night. He was In a grave situation. Even if he had a fair field his plight would be serious enough. But he guessed that during the long hours of darkness Durand was busy weaving a net of false evidence from which he could scarcely disentangle, himself. Unless Bromfleld came forward at a once as a witness for him, his case would be hopeless—and Clay suspected that the clubman would prove only a

« ■ W.W.a » • ■ broken reed as a support. The fellow was selfish to the core. He hud not, in the telling western phrase, the guts to go through. He would take the line of least resistance. Beatrice was in his thoughts a great deal. What would she think of him when the news came that lie was n murderer, caught by the police in a den of vice where he had no business to be? Some deep instinct of ills soul told him that she would brush through the evidence to the nssential truth. She had failed him once. She would never do it again. He felt sure of that. The gray morning broke, and brought with it tlie steaming smell of prison cooking, the sounds of the caged underworld, the sense of life all around him dwarfed and warped to twisted moral purposes. A warden came witli breakfast—a lukewarm, muddy liquid lie called coffee and a stew in which potatoes and bits of fat beef bobbed like lite buoys—and Clay ate heartily while his cellmate favored him, between gulps, with a monologue on rfl fin *3 il! ' wl I ißh P™.T W lIRHIIK H 1 The Gang Politician's Insolent Eyes Went Up and Down Him. “I Didn't Come to See You.” ethics, politics, and the state of society, aS these related especially to Shiny the Shover. Lindsay was given to understand that tlie whole world was “on de spud,” but tlie Dig crooks had fixed the laws so that they could wear diamonds instead of stripes. Presently a guard climbed the iron stairway witli a visitor and led the way along tlie deck outside the tier of cells where Clay had been put. “He’s in seventy-four, Mr. Durand.” the man said as he approached. “I’ll have to beat it. Come back to the office when you’re ready.” The ex-pugilist had come to gloat over him. Clay knew it at once. His pupils narrowed. He was lying on the bed, his supple body stretched at graceful ease. Not by the lift of an eyelid did he recognize the presence of his enemy. Durand stood in front of the cell, hands in pockets, the inevitable unlit black cigar In his mouth. On his face was a sneer of malevolent derision.' Shiny the Shover bustled forward, all complaisance. “Pleased to meet youse, Mr. Durand.” The gang politician’s Insolent eyes went up and down him. “I didn’t come to see you.” “’S allright. Glad to see youse, anyhow,” the counterfeit passer went on obsequiously. “Some day, when you’ve got time Td like to talk wit’ youse about gettin’ some fall money.” “Nothin’ doin’, Shiny. I’m not backin’ you,” said Jerry coldly. “You’ve got to go up the river.” “Youse promised—” “Aw, what the h —l’s eatin’ you?” Shiny’s low voice carried a plaintive whine. “If you’d speak to de judge—” •©•®fl ©•©•©•©•©•©•©•©•©•©•<!

MAGPIE IS A “FEATHERED FIEND”

* Writer in New York Evening Post Draws Up Strong Indictment Against the Bird. Although a great lover of birds, I never ‘grieve whhn anyone kills a magpie, Mrs. Frank J. Hazen writes, from Acushnet, Mont., to the New York Evening Post. From a child, I knew they were thieves, but I had to live on a western stock ranch before realizing thej were little demons. During a drought in»the Northwest many animals were horribly tortured and finally killed by these feathered fiends. A beast weakened by insufficient food, lack of water, old age or any other cause is pounced up<Ai by the magpie, which perches on its back In a place out of reach of the victim’s tail, and then begins to literally eat the poor brute alive. Two incidents came under my own observation. We had an old horse out at pasture that we .valued for the work she had done. After a time we discovered that the magpies were “working” on her and had already made a terrible sore on the poor creature just above her shoulder. We put her in the corral to give her extra feed and wash and treat the sore. To our astonishment the magpies still kept after hfer. They seemed to know we would not dare shoot at them when they were on the back of the horse for fear of killing her. Time after time we tried to get them when flying to and from, ttieir dreadful feast, but their instlWt told them, apparently, When we ▼ ere armed and when the

SYRACUSE AND LAKE WAWASEE JOURNAL

rr.r.-.-.v.-. v.yw. . . • ' • • "Forget it.” Durand brushed the plea away with a motion of tlie hand. “It’s your cell pal I've come to take a ■ look at —the one who’s goin’ to the chair.” With one lithe movement Clay swung ' down to the -floor. He sauntered forward to the grating, his level gaze on tlie ward boss. “Shiny, this fellow’s rotten,” he said evenly and impersonally. “He’s nor only a crook, lint he's a crooked crook. He’d throw down his own'brother if it paid him.” Durand’s cruel lips laughed. “Your pal’s a little worried this mornln’, Shiny. He ain’t alept much. You see the bulls got him right. It’s the death chair for him and no lifeboat in sight." Cluj leaned against the bars negligently. He spoke witli a touch of lazy scorn. "See those scars on his face. Shiny—tlie one on the cheek bone and the other above the eye. Ask him where lie got ’em and how?” Jerry cursed. He broke into a storm of threats, anger sweeping over him in furious gusts. He had come to make sport of his victim and Lindsay somehow took the Upper hand at once. He had this fellow where he wanted him at hist. Yet the man’s soft voice still carried the note of easy contempt. If tlie Arizonan was afraid, lie gave no least sign of it. “You’ll sing another tune before I’m i through with you,” the prize-fighter prophesied savagely. The westerner turned away and swung buck to his upper berth. He knew, what lie had before suspected, that Durr nd was going to "frame” him if he could. That information gained, tlie man to longer Interested him. Sullenlj Jerry left. There was no profit In jeering at Lindsay. He was i too entirely master of every situation that confronted him. Within the hour Clay was wakened from sleep by another guard with word i that he wus wanted at the office of tlie ! warden. He found waiting him there ; Beatrice and her -father. Tlie girl I bloomed ir that dingy room like a caci tus in the “desert. j She carat* toward him with hands ex- ; tended, in her eyes gifts of friendship and faith. “Oh. Clay!” she cried. “Much obliged, little pardner.” Her voice went to his heart like water to -the thirsty roots of prickly pears. A warm glow beat through his veins. The doubts that had weighed on him during the night were gone. Beatrice believed in him. All was well with the world. He shook hands with Whitford. “Blamed good of you to come, sir.” “Why wouldn’t we come?” demanded tlie mining man bluntly. “We’re here to do- what we can lor you.” Little wells of tears brimmed over Beatrice’s lids. “I've so worried.” “Don’t you. It’ll lie all right.” Strangely enough lie felt now that it would. Her coining had brought rippling sunshine into a drab world. “I won’t now. I’m going to get evidence for you. Tell us all about it.” “Why, there isn’t much to tell that you haven’t. read in the papers probably. He came a-shootin’ and was hit by a chair.” "Was it you that hit him?” “Wouldn’t 1 be justified?” he asked gently. "But did you?” For a moment he hesitated, then made up his mind swiftly. “Yes,” he told her gravely. She winced. “You couldn’t help It. How did you come to be there?” “I Just dropped In.” “Alone?” “Yes.” He .had burned the bridges behind him and was lying glibly. Why bring Bromfleld into it? She was going to marry him in a few days. If her fiance was man enough to come forward and tell the truth he would do so anyhow. It was up to him. Clay was not going to betray him to Beatrice. “The paper says there was some one with you.” "Sho! Reporters sure enough have lively Imaginations.”

it- — | gum was out of reach, so they always ' managed to escape. At last we were ' obliged to keep she horse in the barn until the sore healed. It was the only way she could get rid of her tonnen, tors. Keep the Baby Quiet at Night. Getting up in the night to quiet an uneasy baby is not the joke that some comic writers represent it to be. A young husband discovered this in case of his first-born and the means he took to overcome the difficulty won him a prize in a contest in new uses for electricity. The- only means of quieting this baby, who was ailing, was to move him up and down, gently. In the lower part of the crib the father fastened the motor of a discarded electric fan. From a small pulley on the motor he ran a belt to a larger pulley on a short shaft, at the other end of which he rigged a crank. Then he extended a connecting rod to the center of she frame that supported the springs and mattress. The motor, when started, moved springs, mattress anfl baby up and down about an inch, smoothly, gently and regularly. It proved entirely satisfactory to the baby, who is now one year old, healthy and happy, and he has never got his parents out of bed at night since the apparatus was installed. Thirteen Days In Ancient Week. Thirteen days comprised the week of the ancient

"Joiiuuie toid me you hau an engagement with Mr. Bromfleld.” “Did you ever know Johnnie get anything right?” “And Clarendon says he was with you at Maddock’s.” Clay had not been prepared for thiji cumulative evidence. He g?ve a low laugh of relief. “I’m an awful poor liar. So Bromfield says he was with me. does he?” “Yes.” He Intended to wait for a lead before showing his hand. "Then you know all about it?” he asked carelessly. Their eyes were on each other, keen and watchful. She knew he was concealing something of importance. He had meant not to tell her that Bromfield had been with him. Why? To protect the man to whom she was engaged. She jumped to the conclusion that he was still shielding hlnZ “Yea, you’re a poor liar. Clay.” she agreed. “You stayed to keep back Collins so as to give Clarendon a chance to escape.” "Did I?” “Can ytm deny it? Clarendon heard the shots as he was running downstairs." “He told you that, did lie?” “Y es.” “That ought to help a lot. If I can prove Collins was shootin’ at me I can plead self-defense.” “That's what it was, of course.” “Y’es. But Durand doesn’t mean to let It go at that. He was here to see me this ino’nin’.” Clay turned to the mining man. his voice, low but incisivtj. His brain wqs working clear and fast. “Mr. Whitford, I have a hunch he’s going to destroy tlie evidence that’s in my favor. There must be two bullet holes in the partition of the rear room where Collins was killed. See if you can't find those bullet holes and the bullets in tlie wall behind." “I’ll do that, Lindsay.” “And hire me ? a good lawyer. Send him to me. I won't use a smart one whose business is to help crooks escape. If he doesn’t believe in me, I don’t want him. I’ll have him gel tlie names of all those pulled in the raid and visit them to see if he can’t find some one who heard the shots or saw shooting. Then there’s the gun. Some one's, got that gun. It’s up to us to learn who.” "That’s right.” “Tim Muldoon will do anything he can for me. There’s a girl lives with his mother. Her name’s Annie Millikan. She has ways of finding out j things. Better talk it over with her - too. We’ve got to get busy in a hurry.” “Yes,” agreed Whitford. “We’ll do that, hoy.” . “Oh. Clay, I’m sure it’s going to be all right!” cried Beatrice, in a glow of enthusiasm. “We’ll gh’e all our time. We’ll get evidence to show the truth. And we’ll let you know every day what we are doing.” “How about my going bail for you?" asked her father. Clay shook his head. “No chance just yet. Let’s make our showing at tlie coroner’s inquest. I’ll do fine and dandy here till then.” He shook hands with them both and was taken back to his cell. But hope was Irt his heart now. He knewfuiis friends would do their best to get the evidence to free him. It would be a battle royal between tlie truth and a lie. CHAPTER XVIII Bromfleld Makes an Offer. A youth with a face like a fox sidled up to Durand in the hotel lobby and whispered in ids ear. Jerry nodded curtly, and the man slipped away as furtively as he had come. ’ Presently the ex-prize-fighter got up, sauntered to tlie street and hailed a taxi. Twenty minutes later he paid the driver, turned a corner and passed into an aparftnent house for bachelors. He took the- elevator to the third floor and rang an electric bell at a door which carried the name “Mr. Clarendon Bromfield.” From the man who came to the door Mr. Bromfield’s visitor learned that he was not well and could receive no callers. “Just mention the Omnium club, and say I’m here on very important business,” said Jerry with a sour grin. The reference served as a password. Jerry was admitted to meet a host quite unable to control his alarm. At sight of his visitor Bromfleld jumped X \l' l XaHlaur 1 “- w ' ** ’ 1 " “You Rotten Traitor’ Get Out of My Room or I’ll Call the Police!” up angrily. As soon as his man had gone he broke out in a subdued scream. “You rotten traitor! Get out of my room, or I’ll call the police.” Durand found * comfortable chair, drew a case from his pocket and selected a cigar. He grinned with evil mirth. "You will, eh? Like h—l you will. You’re hidin’ from the cops this blessed minute. I’ve just found out myself where you live.” “You took my money and threw me down. You hired a gunman to kill me.” “Now, what would I do that for? I hadn’t a thing in the world against you, an’ I haven’t now.” “That d —d ruffian shot at me. He was still shooting when I struck him

with the chair,” cried Bruuiueid, voice shaking. “He didn’ti know it was you—mistook you for Lindsay in the darkness." “My G—d, I didn’t mean to kill him. I had to do something.” “You did it ull right." “I told you there wasn’t to be any violence. It was explicitly stated. You promised. And all the time ybu were planning murder. I’ll tell all I know. By G —d, I will.” “Go easy, Mr. Bromfleld.” snarled Jerry. “If you do, where do ye think you’ll get off at?” “I’ll go to the police and tell them your hired gunman was shooting, at us." “Will you now? An’ I’ll have plenty of good witnesses to swear lie wasn t.” Durund bared his teeth in a threat. “That’s not all, either. I’ll tie you up witli tlie rube from the West and send you up to Sing Sing as accessory. How’d you like that?” “If I tell the truth —” “You’ll be convicted of murder in place of him and he’ll go up as accessory. I don’t care two straws how it is. But you’d be a d —d fool. I’ll say that for you.” “I’m not going to let an innocent man suffer in my place, it wouldn't be playing tlie game.” Durand leaned forward and tapped the table with ills finger-tips. His voice rasped like a file. “You can't save him. He’s goin’ to get it right. But you can hurt yourself a h—l of a lot. Get out of tlie country and stay out till it's all over witli. That’s the best tiling you can do. Go to the Hawaiian islands, man. That’s a good healthy climate an’ tlie hotel cooking’s a lot better than it is at Sing Sing.” “I can’t do it,” moaned the clubman. “My G —d, man, if it ever .came out — that I’d paid money to —to —ruin his reputation, and that I'd run away when I could have saved an innocent man —I’d be done for. I’d be kicked out of every club I’m in.” “It won’t ever come out if you’re not here. But if you force my hand—well, that’s different.” Again J_erry’s grin slit his colorless face. He had this poor devil where he wanted him, and lie was enjoying Kimself. “What do you want me to do, then?” cried Bromfleld, tiny beads of perspiration on his forehead. “You’ll do as I say—beat it outa tlie country till tlie thing’s over with.” “But Lindsay will talk.” “Tlie boob’s padlocked his mouth, j For some fool reason lie’s protectin’ you. Get out, an’ you’re safe.” Bromfleld sweated blood as he walked up and down tlie room looking for away out of his dilemma. He bad come to the parting of the road again. If he'dld this tiling lie would be a yellow cur. It was one thing to destroy Lindsay’s influence with Beatrice by giving her a false impression. From his point of view their friendship wus pernicious anyhow and ought to be wiped out. At most tlie cattleman would have gone back unhurt to the desert lie was always talking about. Nobody there would care about wliat had, happened to him in New York. But to leave him, an innocent man, to go to his death cause lie was too chivalrous to betray his partner in an adventure —this was something that even Broinfleld’s atrophied conscience revolted at. Clay was standing by him, according to Durand’s story. The news <>f it lifted a weight iiis soul. But it left him. too, under a stronger moral obligation to step out and face the music. The clubmaii made the only decision he could, and that was to procrastinate, to put off making any choice for the present. “I’ll think it over. Give me a day to make up my mind," he begged. Jerry shrugged ids heavy shoulders. He knew that every hour counted in his favor, would make it more difficult for tlie tortured man to come forward and tell tlie truth. /Sure. Look it over upside and down. Don’t hu»ry. But. man, what’s there to think about? I thought you hated this guy—wanted to get rid of him.” “Not that way. G —d, no! Durand, I’ll give you any sum in reason to let him go without bringing me into it. You can arrange it.” Jerry slammed down a fist heavily on tlie table. “I can, but I won’t. Not if you was to go flfty-fifty with me to your last cent. I’m goin’ to get this fellow. See? I’m goin’ to get him good. He’ll be crawlin’ on his hands and knees to me before I’m through with him.” . “What good will that do you? I’m offering you cold cash just to let the truth fcet out—that Collins was trying to kill him when he got hit.” “Nothin’ doin’. I’ve been layln’ for this boob. I’ve got him now. I’m goin’ to turn, the screws on and listen to him holler.” Bromfield’s valet stepped into tlie room. “Mr. and Miss Whitford to see you, sir.” nodded her wise lit-, tie gonna frame him if lie can. He's laid tlie wires for it. That’s a lead pipe.” “Sure,” agreed Muldoon. “I’ll bet •he’s been busy all night fixin’ up ids story. Some poor divvies lie’ll bullyrag into swearin’ lies an’ others lie’ll buy. Trust Jerry for the crooked > stuff.” » “We’ve got to tell the truth.” said Beatrice crisply,-pulling on her gloves. “And we’ll do it, too. A pack of lies can’t stand against four of us all looking for the truth.” Muldoon, who was on night duty this month and therefore had his days free, guided Whitford and his daughter to Maddock’s. As they reached the house an express wagon was being driven away. Automatically tha license number registered Itself in Tim’s memory. The policeman took a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. The three went up the stairs to the deserted gambling hall and through it to the rear room. “From what Lindsay says, the bullet holes ought to be about as high as his armpits,” said Whitford. “‘Slim’ must ’a’ been standin’ about here,” guessed Muldooh, illustrating his theory by taking the position he meant. “The bullets would hit the partition close to the center, wouldn’t they?” Beatrice had gone straight to the plank wall. “They’re not here/ ahe told them. £TO BB CONTINUED.)

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