Argosy, Vol. 85, No. 3 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

376 THE tired minister as he hung up. “ Little Bill Jones is on the job again, Ned!” ‘“And somebody else is here for us,” stated Hemmett as he hurried to the door and unlocked it—and then started back, for, hat on the back of his head, cigar in the corner of his mouth, inso- lent smile on his lips, William Jones stood there, all unannounced. ‘“Pardon my arriving this way,” he said easily as he entered. ‘‘ The door was open, and I didn’t want to lose any time in getting to you gentlemen. What with one thing and another, this promises to be a rather busy day, and I wanted to have my little chat with you early.” “Well, I'll be—” Girton began. “Don’t be profane, at any rate,” Jones smiled. ‘‘I just dropped in, you know, to get your final answer. I’ve communicated with my folks overnight, and I’m able to offer a little added in- ducement. They tell me that they still feel that you’re the men for the jobs, and that, if there’s no other way of budging you, I may offer you each a fifty thou- sand dollars bonus, if you’re willing to sail at one o’clock. Well?” “You,” said the retired secretary, ‘‘ are the sneaking, slithering agent of—” “A railroad!” Jones put in quickly. “Never lose sight of that—a railroad! And since you seem to be in a truculent mood this morning, I’ll come right down to cases and cut out the pretty stuff. You two are going out of this country on the one o’clock steamer, with your people and with your pockets full of money—or you're going to be a pair of idiots and stay here and take the con- sequences! Get that?” There was a pause in every sense dra- matic. Girton doubled his fists and took a step forward. Hemmett laid a hand on his arm. “Just a minute, Steve,” he said. “ He wants to cut out the pretty stuff, and we'll help him. We have to take the consequences, do we, Jones?” “You certainly do! And don’t be an ass, Hemmett! Just—” ARGOSY. ‘Well, the first consequences we'll take is you!” stated Hemmett as he gripped the gentleman’s two arms. ‘ Frisk him, Steve! He’ll be carrying at least one gun!” | -And then he chuckled as Jones, with a tremendous heave, sought to wrench himself loose and failed completely—and he chuckled again as Steve Girton drew from Mr. Jones’s pockets a pair of auto- matic pistols that might have held off a mob. “We're getting right down to cases, aren’t we, Jones?” he asked. ‘‘ We'll go a little farther. Open that door, Steve. And you—if you wiggle, Mr. Jones, youll get just one whack on the vulnerable spot behind the ear, and after that we'll have to carry you.” Jones glanced at him over his shoulder. He was cool again and sneering. ‘You poor clod!” he said pleasantly. ‘ Haven’t you brains enough to know that you’re piling up trouble for yourself by this idiotic trick?” ‘““T have not! March!” ‘Where to?” Girton asked. “Out back to my nice, new stone garage,’ said Hemmett. ‘ That has a good look on the outside. We'll let Jones cool off for a while, and then decide what’s coming to him.” He was a curious citizen! Instead of resisting, he stepped along jauntily, ac- cepting the situation as if it had not been just what he expected. He smiled, too; he seemed to be laughing somewhere inside—and now the door of the garage was open, with only the runabout in sight, and Hemmett sent the gentleman within and slammed the door. ‘Just why did we do that?” Girton inquired when they were again in the library. ‘“T wanted to put him where he’d be accessible when we’ve had a chance to consider his case,” Hemmett explained, with a half smile. ‘ Upon my _ word, Steve, that cuss, with his assurance and his billion-dollar talk, makes me _ feel queer! He’s at the bottom of the whole DOOK AMUC C©