Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

736 Van Carpen, still tilted back in his chair, smoked and built air castles of a roseate future. | With Moore and Northrup both disposed of, he saw no further bar to the complete success of his schemes. Those two would rest in unhonored graves as the perpetra- tors of the kidnaping. He could easily cook up some additional evidence to fasten it on them beyond dispute, while he would shine as the hero who rescued the girl. Could Faith do less under the circum- stances than accept him as her husband? Could the colonel do less than support and recommend any proposition he might pre- sent? With his share of Moore’s seventy- five thousand dollars he could put up quite a front as a capitalist. Oh, yes—Guadaljara City was in for a trimming! There was just one little possible hitch in his program of matrimony and plunder, and as he thought of that his exultant smile gave way for a moment to an expression of uneasy concern. But he shook his head. The contingency was too remote and unlikely to be worth serious consideration. He looked over at J. P., still struggling over his pothooks and curlycues, and yawned. They had been up practically the whole night before, and the trip out to the desert that day had been a wearing one. His eyelids were beginning to grow heavy. “ Better call it a day and turn in, hadn’t we?” he suggested. “Maybe your hand will be steadier in the morning.” “T want it ready to show as soon as the bank opens,” his partner demurred without even looking up. “ Just about twenty min- utes more, and I think I'll have it. I’m getting the swing now.” The clock ticked on. Midnight was already past. Jj. P. toiled on doggedly, eovering sheet after sheet of paper, only to give a grunt of disgust and tear them into tiny fragments. The waste-paper bas- ket at his side looked as if it had struck a snowstorm. Van Carpen, with nothing else to do, re- sumed his dreams of conquest. Suddenly the telephone bell tinkled. Van Carpen ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. and J. P. both started, then glanced at each other, It was almost one o’clock now? Who the dickens could be calling them at that hour? The telephone rang again. After a mo- ment’s hesitation J. P. picked up the instru- ment and answered. “Jt’s Red,’ he announced out of the corner of his mouth; then, speaking ex- citedly into the receiver: ‘“ What? What’s that you say?” Van Carpen, sensing from his tone that trouble of some kind was afoot, caught up an extension instrument on his desk and listened in. Red’s voice over the wire was worried and perturbed. “That you, guv’nor?” he was saying. “T was hopin’ I’d be able to catch you. I’ve just come twenty miles, getting to a phone. Say—do you get me?” He lowered his voice. ‘< Ves,” J. “ Go ahead.” “Well, as I said before, we lost that excess baggage we was carrying. You un- derstand what I mean, I guess.” Before J. P. could respond Van Carpen broke in agitatedly: ‘““My Lord! You surely are not talking about the package that Pedro delivered you last night?” “Cut out the names there!” Red growled; then, in an injured tone: “ Say, guv’nor, how many jis in on this wire?” “ Just myself and Van, Red,” J. P. re- assured him. “ That’s all right. But, for Heaven’s sake, tell me how such a thing could have happened?” “ Can’t say myself. We started out all right, with the parcel tied up proper in the back of one of the trucks. Then about halfway on the road we noticed that it was gone, and a roll of stuff, blankets and one thing and another, was in its place. We went clean back over the trail a lookin’ for it, but nary a sign of it could we find. Must ’a’ hid out behind one of the sand hills, I s’pose.” “ But, listen, Red!” J. P.’s voice was desperate. “ That-——that parcel has got to be found. Drop everything else, and never 6A P. answered impatiently. CoOmicoooks (C@