Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 137: what you’re looking at

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

THE BLACK TUBE, The sheriff took the weapon, turned it _ over and shook his head. ‘“‘ Handle isn’t cracked,” he admitted, with a frown, “ but otherwise—”’ “Tf it looks the same to you I fancy it will to the owner of the other one. f just bought it on the way down town.” “The owner?” cried Homes, gripping Craton’s arm. “ Do you expect the owner of that gun found in the library here to- day?” “T hope so,” smiled Craton, pressing a bell. A young man stepped in through the door connecting the office with the one beyond and handed Craton a list. ‘“ Miss Holbrook, Miss Fair, . Miss MacKensie, Miss Wainwright,” he read. “ Just four. You called on six, didn’t you, sheriff?” “ The six you had on your list.” “ Well, we won’t wait for the other two. Send them in in the order I’ve checked.” Craton, placing a number against each name, passed the list back to his clerk. “ All right, sheriff. Ready?” “ Are those girls here—are you going to see them?” demanded Homes. . Craton gave a nod and, indicating the chair by the wall, slipped into the next office. With a frown the sheriff settled down, his ear to the wall at a spot which appeared no different from the rest of the partition. He heard a chair move, a door open, and the light fall of footsteps. “Miss Fair,” came Craton’s voice, _ “please have a seat. Sorry to trouble you. Oh, yes, to be sure, I haven’t introduced myself. Mr. Welcox, a lawyer, my dear young lady, and a friend of a friend of yours in the bargain. Funny combination, but this old world surely throws odd people together, now, doesn’t it?” “ Sure does,” came the laughing, soft voiced answer. ‘“‘ I didn’t get the idea when that party called and said I was to come down to see you, but I beat it along; try anything once. Queer message you sent me, though.” “ How’s that?” “To trot down here and get something a party left with you for me. I bit. What’s the game?” 127 There was a moment of silence. Then the sound of a drawer being opened, and from Craton: “ There is a package. If the contents is yours I am to turn it over to you. If it isn’t, I am to give you this en- velope to recompense you for your trouble in coming clear down here.” Homes, getting this conversation as clear- ly as if he was in the next room, heard the rustle of paper. Then: “That isn’t mine,” in the girl’s voice. “ Never had a bag like that in all my life.” “ Possibly you can tell me to whom it belongs?” “Nix. Say, do you mean to tell me you brought me way down here to spring that old hand bag on me?” Craton laughed softly. “I’m sorry to have had to do it, but this will perhaps allow you to buy a new bag of your own selection. A new crisp ten dollar bill is in that envelope, Miss Fair, and I won’t bother you further, but thank you very much for your trouble.” “Say,” came the puzzled question, “what’s the idea?” “ Just trying to find the owner of this bag, nothing more. You can step out this way. Thanks for coming. Good luck.” A . door closed. The sheriff sat back in his chair, but straightened quickly as he heard the open- ing of another door. The same conversa- tion reached Homes, and again Craton passed his puzzled caller out to the hall. Again the door opened and once more the sheriff followed the conversation up to that point where the package was laid on the table. Then there came the rustle of paper as the package was unwrapped and— silence. 3 “And how about this?” came Craton’s sharp demand. A metallic article was laid down. The sheriff felt the situation without be- ing able to see what had happened. He stiffened in his chair, suddenly, appreciating the full significance of the scene that was taking place so close at hand. The silence seemed endless when Craton’s voice came to him. “Steady. Don’t scream. Drink this, you are pale. The bell in the corner tinkled, GOMIGIOOKS GO A