Adventure Magazine Cover, October 1911 — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

1008 piece of narrow tape which had been en- closed in the paper and which made itself ap- parent as the ball was torn apart. The tape was about two feet in length and it contained a message written in a rather shaky handwriting. The Chief moved under a convenient electric light. Forward and Clancy each held an end of the tape while the old man read as follows: ‘‘T have been kidnaped and locked up in the garret of this house like a rat in a trap. If the person who finds this note will notify the police he will earn the prayers and the everlasting gratitude of Henri La Rue, Captain of the French merchant steamer known as the Mermaid.” Barnes turned and looked at the front of the house. It was*an ordinary four-story dwelling with an attic. Astore on the ground floor was used as a delicatessen. shop. A private entrance on the side showed a sign that proclaimed “Apartments to Rent.” Clancy spoke to the old man. ‘“What do you think of it, Chief?” “‘T think it’s a bit fishy,” interjected For- ward, who seemed out of sorts. ‘‘Well, it does smell of the sea,”’ Barnes laughingly. ‘““You’re not going to bother w ith it, are your” asked the lawyer in surprise. “I’m going to investigate it, if that’s what you mean,” answered the old man good- naturedly. Without any further ado Barnes hurried to the private entrance of the house and, finding the door unlocked, walked in. He ran up the narrow stairway, followed by Forward and Clancy. They soon found themselves on the top landing. A door con- fronted them on either side. The Chief tapped on the one facing the strect. “Hello,” he shouted, “‘is Captain La Rue there?” ‘Yes!’ cried an eager voice: ‘‘Who is it?” ‘‘ A friend who wishes to help you,’’ was the reply. “Thank heaven for that!” was the fer- vent response. ‘Have you a key?” “Clancy,” directed the Chief, “find the janitor and bring him here at once. Tell him if he don’t hurry we’ll smash the door!” Before many minutes the janitor appeared. At first he was insolent and threatening, but when Barnes made known his identity his manner changed. “The room was just rented this after- noon,” he said apologetically, ‘and honest, gents, I ain’t got no right to let yer in.” admitted Adventure “You're detaining a man there against his will!’”’ snapped the detective. “T ain’t doin’ nothin’ of the kind,” was the sulky rejoinder. ‘‘He was put there by his brother!” ‘His brother?” - ‘Yes, Mr. James, who rented the room. He said his brother’d been drinkin’ heavy and that he didn’t want him to get out till he got back.” “That’s false!” roared a muffled voice. “T was drugged and thrown in this hole!” “Open that door at once!” demanded Barnes sternly. ‘‘Or you’ll make your ex- planation to the Captain of Police.” Without any further delay the janitor put the key in the lock and threw open the door. The three men crowded into the room. The reflector from a smoky lamp in the hall cast a dim light into the apartment. It was al- most bare excepting a bed, a cheap wash- stand and a couple of broken chairs. On the edge of a bed sat a bewildered sailor staring at them like a man who had lost his wits. <A closely cropped beard covered the chin and jowls of his sunburned face. The sudden entrance seemed to have deprived him of the power of speech. Barnes, in his jerky way, told of finding the message. ‘“Now,” he concluded, “tell me your story.” Instead of complying, the frightened-look- _ing creature called out in frenzied tones: “The time! the time! tell me the time!”’ Forward was about to make some angry retort when the Chief checked him. He glanced at his watch. “Tt is half-past seven.” The man on the bed gave a wail of de- spair, buried his face in his hands and cried like a baby. Barnes, who had the faculty of adapting himself to all sorts of circumstances, per- mitted the Frerichman to exhaust his grief. Then he said gently: ‘Now, if you'll tell me your story I may be able to help you.” The man shook his head with a gesture of despair. ‘““You’re very kind, but I’m past helping now.” “You don’t look like a drinking man,” was the suggestive remark. ‘“‘T’m not—that’s the meanest part of it.” ‘‘Why the meanest part of it?” La Rue looked at his questioner dumbly For God’s sake, CO MICLOOKS ©