Adventure, November 1915 — page 135: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Return of Billy Blain A LITTLE less than two hours later Terence O’Hanlon leaped off an- other trolley car and sat down me heavily, but with an all-triumphant sigh, between Billy and his wife. He lit a big black panatela before he said a word to either of them. “So that’s all right!” he proclaimed at last. “The Sheriff has the bank receipts for the five thousand dollars, and they’ve got the car still. That means it’s their car and our money. There’s a Court hear- /ing fixed for Monday next, and Cohen says it’s all over but the shouting. Is that our *phone bell ringing? Answer it, ye little runt. I’m weary.” . Billy disappeared into the darkness, and Mrs. Billy sat beside O’Hanlon, bathed and basking in a feeling of relief. As treasurer ‘and bookkeeper of O’Hanlon, Blain & Co., she knew and could feel even better than the others how sorely that five thousand would be needed in a day or two. The knowledge that the Sheriff had it and that Cohen’s verdict of the case was optimistic, was a huge improvement. There was hope now, and she enjoyed it —until Billy stepped out of the dark again, tight-lipped, and with that jaw of his set somewhat forward. There was no sign at all of fear or dread in all his make-up; he only looked a little more pugnacious when his world was going wrong. “It was the Sheriff,” he said quietly. “Mike Connolly’s turned the auto in, and he’s had to hire a place to store it. Mike’s lodged a caveat, or something—I didn’t | ‘ catch the word—and the Sheriff says we can’t have the car without a Court order,”’ “Well, we’ll have it Monday mor-r-rnin’!”’ said O’Hanlon. But neither of the others answered. They sat and stared into the night while the griz- zled veteran beside them laid his elbows on his knees and hung the whole weight of his head and shoulders on his hands. “Oh, I know what it is!’’ Terence moaned. “It’s me again! It always was me, and I’m not fit, I’m not, to be a partner in a decent firm! “‘Can ye remember one case 0’ my manag- ing my end o’ the affair properly? Ye can not, for there was none! When ye were fightin’, it was always me that got ye into scrapes. Now, when ye’re runnin’ a repair shop, it’s me again! What can I do—what can I do—what can I do to help ye?” 133 “Do?” said Billy, getting up and shoving both hands in his pockets.. ‘““Do, Terence? - What did you do in the old days? Stood by, if I remember, and saw me through the mess. Are you going to run away now at this time o’ day?” “T thought we were all three friends, Terence,” said Mrs. Billy quietly. Terence O’Hanlon kept his hands behind him, and stared at them, wondering. “So ye thought that, did ye? So ye thought that?” His hands fell to his sides. He held them straight out—one to each of them—two huge, horny flippers, waving in the dark. “Ye were right! And I’m thinking—that I’ll be more use to ye laughin’ than I will cryin’. Come on home!” He threw a hairy arm around each neck, as rough as any she-bear with her cubs, and twice as loving. “Come on home. ’Tis little use I am to either of ye—little use it is; but I’m better standin’ up than lyin’ down. We'll feel more like fightin’ in the mornin’, and there’s sure to be a fight—a legal fight— and that’s a sight worse than ten o’ the other kind.” “Yes, there’ll be a fight,” said Billy gloomily. “Fight! It seems the whole world is made of nothing else but fight! Oh, I hate fight- ing!’ groaned Mrs. Billy. IV ~ } THE next morning—on the fateful i | Saturday on which five thousand dollars should have found their way into the bank account of O’Hanlon, Blain & Co.—a strange procession drifted to the shop instead. There was Mike Connolly, trying hard to look superior and wronged, but contriving only to look brazen; Ephra- im Strobinski, beyond pretense of any- thing but rank audacity; Sweeny himself, in a straw hat with a pink band, all tilted to one side, that gave that nose of his a singularly un-Irish look; and Casey, quite a little way behind, endeavoring to look as if he were a portion of some other crowd. “T didn’t think it of ye!” Mike Connolly put all the injury he could command into his voice, and looked at Billy as a father might behold his erring son. Billy did not seem to like the look, for his arms folded over his chest and the muscles com OC) CS Gom A HEN 4 ob” at . ag .¥ ? ‘i ’ es ; . mY} d). Siu! Rail. whi if dot PT oh AAP SES oa fhe oF ihe BAIS nth Nog Salata i Me Calis tie ek at abi a Lark +> ie Pe ae el id ie Ce Pe | . é ‘ ° a yi : 4 . 2 - 7 ry ’ t £ i’ f - > £ ; ; i : - - 4 “al 1, A de « . adi at y i <,, SAAR: Wat i Bates AOI MTN Tal Re gee a oh 73 ee tie ta Pa ae ae tee Te 7 . ; : Thee den a 5% ee