The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 228: what you’re looking at

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

214 to investigate the big touring-car, and, under pretense of cleaning it, ran- sacked it thoroughly from carbureter to cushions. But it was only to make a water- haul. The Bible, if it had ever been there, was certainly not so any longer. so it was with every move he at- tempted. His most promising pros- pects came to naught; his best clues led him nowhere. Hard luck persist- ently dogged his footsteps and failure grinned threateningly ahead. Still he gave no hint to Ethel of how ticklish their situation had_ be- come. He made excuse to see her several times in those two fateful days; but to her he spoke only in glit- tering generalities, and painted their situation in roseate colors. And so at last the brief forty-eight hours allowed him rolled around, with nothing accomplished. On the same principle that a good meal is always given to a condemned man just before his execution, he had spent the closing evening of his scant shrift with Ethel; and now, with the time fully up, set forth about eleven o’clock to report himself to McCon- nell, determined to ask no mercy for himself, but to use every persuasive ‘plea in his power on behalf of the girl. : As he came down the steps of the boarding-house, however, and turned gloomily toward the corner to take a car for headquarters, he halted sud- denly with that peculiar stiffening of the body which Brady had likened to the pointing of a dog. Another moment and he was hur- rying to the nearest telephone-booth, where he demanded “1300 Spring ” with such feverish intensity that the girls at Central were sure nothing less than a wholesale riot or murder was in progress. In communication with police head- quarters at last, he gave no one any peace until he gained the ear of the commissioner. To such good purpose did he talk, THE ARGOSY. however, that a few moments later McConnell’s automobile came dashing up, loaded down with a bunch of burly detectives. “Now, what is it you say,” de- manded the commissioner, leaping out over the wheel before the machine came fully to a stop—‘ that you have the thief cornered in the library right now?” Ramsdell nodded exultantly. ““He’s come back to make another haul in the effort to force the old man to a settlement,” he said. “ Right now he’s at the safe, picking out the books he thinks will best serve his purpose.” McConnell gave an impatient toss of the head. “Look here,” he growled, “ this is going a bit too far. You may know that the fellow is in there all right, and what his object is; but when you try to tell me what he is doing at any par- ticular moment you are nothing more nor less than a liar.” “All right,” laughed Ramsdell in- differently; “have it your own way. Have it any old way, so long as you catch this scamp for me; only don’t waste any more time in argument. “I guess the best way to do,” he counseled, “is for you to send about four of your men around to the front, and tell them to wake up Poe and make him take them into the library. Then you and the others will stand here.” “Oh, we stand here, do we?” questioned McConnell suspiciously. “What for, please?” “Why, to catch him when he comes out.” McConnell cast his eye along the grim, impregnable front of the build- ing. “To catch him when he comes out!” he repeated with disdain. “ And where do you stand, young man?” “ Right here with you.” “All right, then, I’ll do as you say. But I tell you to your face that I have no confidence in you, and that I think this is a stall; and I warn you that if I see the least indication of funny oO MICLOOO© CO S CO