Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 19, 1924 — page 169: what you’re looking at

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

STOLEN SHOES. ahead of time. Slippy felt that once he set foot on the boat and had stowed away his bags in his stateroom he could relax. The ordeal would be practically over. No one would come to the boat to see him off. Trammers had providentially asked this as a favor, saying that he detested such leave-takings. _ Slippy breathed deeply as he followed a white-garbed steward up the gangplank in the wake of his bags. He went directly to his stateroom. His steamer trunk was al- ready there. Undoubtedly there was other luggage in the hold. _ Alone in his cabin, Slippy leaned back on his bunk. He still kept a cautious eye for every detail about his appearance. He had gone over that carefully the moment the door shut behind the steward. He pulled out his watch. A half hour to sailing, and then—an independent fortune and a life of ease. Was anything simpler? He could hear the engines throbbing as the ship was getting up steam. - Five more minutes passed. Slippy opened one of Trammers’s grips and brought out a magazine. He lighted another cigar and leaned back luxuriously. ‘‘ Ah, this is the life!’ he told himself. _ A loud knock came on his door. That confounded steward again! What could he want? Maybe some one had sent him a telegram of final good wishes. That would be like the Trammers bunch. With a swift glance at himself in the glass Slippy opened the door. The purser stood there with a stranger. “Sorry, Mr. Trammers,’ began the ‘purser, “ but this man says he must see you.” The stranger stepped forward. “Yes,” he said curtly. ‘“ My name is Channing—of the Boise police force. 1 have a warrant here for your arrest. You are wanted for embezzlement at Boise six years ago when you were known as Oscar Little. It won’t do you any good to say anything because here is your photograph.” He held out the likeness of the late Saul Trammers which was labeled, Oscar Little. The purser peered at it. “There is no doubt about it,” he said. ‘¢ They are the same.” He nodded at Slippy. 659 The latter’s face was chalk white. But he was game. He assumed Trammers’s grand air. ‘‘ You have made a frightful blunder, and you shall smart for it. I never was in Boise in my life.” Slippy was speaking the truth, and his earnestness carried conviction. “ Besides,” continued the pseudo-Tram- mers, ‘‘ while the picture does resemble me, you know as well as I do that that proves nothing. There may be three or four people in the world that look like me. Everybody has his double they say. You'll have te see my lawyers and take it up with me in Australia. You can send your apologies there, although I will tell you right now that I’m feeling pretty wrathy.” Slippy was playing the part of outraged dignity to perfection. ‘“ Furthermore,” he went on, “ you have no business to rile a man up so when he is in my state of health. My doctors would throw you off the boat. Now go!” Slippy reached a crescendo with com- mendable impressiveness. __ Perspiration dropped from his brow. And he did look sick—with apprehension. — The man from Idaho hesitated. He felt uncertain, disturbed. “My orders are plain,” he said finally. “T have a warrant for your arrest, as well as extradition papers. The metropolitan force is codperating with us. The Boise chief has sent them every particular. I am sorry, sir, but I can’t risk it. I have a warrant here to arrest Mr. Saul Trammers, formerly of Widelawns, late of Boise. You’ll have to come with me. You can take a later boat. They will refund your money.” “But I tell you any delay will be fatal to my health,” blazed forth Slippy. To ng avail. Ten minutes before the boat sailed for Australia he entered the cab in custody of the Boise man and was taken swiftly to police headquarters. IV. THE Boise man talked earnestly with the police head when the pseudo-Trammers was conducted into the private office. “Says he has never been in Boise, eh! cS (G(0) EOmMmichboo