Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 21, 1922 — page 157: what you’re looking at

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

WHERE ALL cial report. He hoped that they would not annoy him with further disturbing calls. The International Bank was not the only place where Dodson and Smith made vigor- ous inquiries into the details of the murder, and they had no difficulty in finding men who were willing to tell all the little that they knew concerning Swithen and Kent, to throw in their own opinion of the affair, and to repeat the whole story upon the slightest provocation. Dodson and Smith themselves aroused much comment, and were the subject of much idle speculation. The theory pro- pounded by Bill Jones on the second eve- ning after their arrival to his usual au- dience was pretty generally accepted, and seemed well borne out by the appearance and manner of the strangers. “Mr. Dodson and Mr. Smith is detec- tives, boys, mark my words,” he said with a gesture of a pale, fat hand. “ They’ve been sent up here from Ottawa to get the dope that will hang Kent. They’re sharp, they are, and they’re getting what they tome after. That Man Dodson talked to me for half an hour this morning, and I guess I was able to give him a tip or two. ‘Mr. Jones,’ he said to me, ‘ what you tell me may be very valuable.’ ” | Further discussion of these interesting visitors was cut short by the arrival of the gentlemen themselves. The rooms which they occupied were immediately above the hotel parlor, and as the construction of the Cobalt was not of the solidest, Jones well knew that anything said in the parlor might be easily overheard. So with a frown and a shake of the head he closed the topic for the time being. Three days later Captain Farley brought his party into Mooseyard. He was well aware of the excitement that would flame through the town on his arrival, so he had halted his team some two miles short of their destination in the middle of the after- noon and waited till darkness had gathered and thickened to night among the trees before continuing his way. A heavy snow was falling, and men and dogs were whitened by the soft flakes that hurried down through the windless air. It was still early when they reached the outskirts TRAILS END. 147 of the town. Yellow light glowed dully through frosted panes and falling snow. The deputy sheriffs house, which was their first objective, stood near the northern end of the main street, but they had not gained it before they were discovered, and to Farley’s annoyance men came running from the houses and muffled shouts came to his ears. Despite the darkness his efforts at secrecy had failed, and the steadily increas- ing group of men who awaited them by Dave Barker’s door seemed in no doubt as to their identity. “It’s Farley. Has he got him?” “Yeh. Hurry up. There he is on the sled.” The dogs were drawn to a halt, and in obedience to instructions previously re- ceived the two constables, preceded by Dave, marched the prisoner hurriedly up. the steps and into the house, where for a moment Dave’s flash-light gave the only illumination. Flora followed close behind them, and Farley, the last to enter, closed the door on the unsatisfied and muttering mob. In that fraction of a moment that ‘he stood upon the steps his keen ears caught fragments of sinister sentences that startled him. Some one was demanding a rope. A familiar voice shouted, “ Rush them!” ‘Another, “‘ Wait, durn ye—d’ye want to be filled with lead? There’s time enough.” Handcuffed -now, and a prisoner in fact as well as in name, Victor was hurried to a small room on the second story. His fare- well to his wife had already been said, and when his outer clothes had been re- moved he was left alone and the door locked upon him. A lamp had been stood In one corner of the room, and by its light he made an unhurried examination of his cell. The small window was lightly barred, the walls were bare but clean; the only furniture was the iron cot upon which he was at present seated. He could hear the murmurs of the crowd faintly rising from below, but after momentary consideration of his surroundings he dismissed his pres- ent position from his mind and became deeply engrossed in thought. His mental calculations seemed not to give him com- plete satisfaction, for his brows were puck- COMmiclboo SS C©