Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 28, 1928 — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

504 incoherent bits about a “frame up” at the old mill—a frame up engineered by Chief Burden himself! Boiling with rage, muttering wild threats, the editor hastened to his house, leaving the street to put what interpretation it would upon what it had witnessed and heard. This last was plenty and various, and in a remarkably short space of time Poley Burden knew that his journalistic deputy had been the victim of some sort of encounter at the mill. Which not only puzzled him, but dashed his hopes of rounding up the criminals who had made life miserable for so many weeks. Hastily, Poley took counsel with Ernie Willets, Postmaster Steele, and Jim Creeper. He explained the letter as he understood it, and discovered that they concurred. Also they agreed that he had been forced to act quick- ly, i criticism there. It had just so happened that some one of the bandits had gone to the mill ahead of time. “You'd better get right up and see - Clem,” Willets counseled. “ He'll go after you to-morrow worse than ever. Tell how you sent him on a job you didn’t dare tackle yourself and_ all that.” “That’s right,” “T’'ll go over there now.” went along. As near as they could understand the message delivered by Mrs. Pitts, Clem had said: “ You tell that old crook to go to hell! I'll have plenty to say later on. Tell him he’d better get out of town before he’s run out, the dirty old framing sneak!” That was the sub- stance of it. “The blamed fool,” was Poley’s comment. “ S’pose we slip over t’ the mill an’ see kin we dig up any light on why that feller was there. He might have left somethin’ behind, gittin’ out quick, like that.” There was considerable delay. Electric torches had to be procured, and admitted Poley. They all ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. the extra members expressed a desire to go armed. Also, Jim Creeper was dispatched to advise Fred Carney of what was going forward and to receive his report, if any. Jim returned to say that all was well at the Welliver house, and Jim had seen two carloads of guests drive up while he conferred with Fred. Half sick with disappointment, Poley led his party to the mill. They approached quietly, showing no lights, groped their way through the molder- ing portal, halted a moment and lis- tened before turning on their torches. And in that brief moment plenty hap- pened. A motor, swiftly driven, screeched to a stop at the end of the path leading from the highway to the tower. Foot- steps hurried toward the ruin. The group in the dark tower held their breath. Their straining ears caught excited words, a woman’s voice above all things! Poley heard her say, “ We’re first! We’re first! I told you so!” A male voice rumbled: ‘“ Guess you're right. Say! Whoever picked Welliver’s knew his onions. I can taste that cocktail yet.” “ The cool devils!’ muttered Poley to himself. ‘ They’ve pulled their stunt right under Fred’s nose and helped themselves to cocktails to boot. Slick birds. Here you! Hands up! Ouick!” Three flash lights showed a man and a girl, dressed in approved evening re- galia! With frightened eyes and drooping jaws they stared at their captors. The man recovered himself quickly. “What is it, a -stick-up?” he in- quired. “ We haven’t got much but—” ‘“ Hold your tongue,” ordered Poley. “We're police and you’re pinched.” “ P-p-pinched?” faltered the girl. “What for?” “Plenty,” Poley said. ‘‘ Robbin’ Welliver’s, for one thing. What did you git down there? Hand it over.” CEOPMICLOOOKS (E@)