The Washington times., 1906-04-22

through $1,000 marquise ring. He
hurled his derby hat behind a Japa-
nese screen, cut a pigeonwing, and
galloped straight to Miss Vancourt.
''By gravy" he shouted. I'm aw-
ful glad to see you again. You know,
you told me to look you up if I even
got my hoofs inside of old Brag-
tOwn-near-the-Bowe Well, we
gents? I'm tickled to death to see
you"
Miss Vancourt welcomed him
eagerly. The freshness, the simple,
unaffected naiyette of this child of
the West captivated her. She grasp
ed his hand cordially and smiled
into his eyes.
Now, what Will you have to
drink" she said "You see. this is
my own little ranch, where aunty
and I hang out, and 1 have to keep
something to drink, so that my boys
viii be in good humor. l call all
these solemn, distinguished society
gentlemen my boys, Mr. Jackson.
Won't you be one of them, too, and
let me mix you a drink? May l in
troduce one of my 'boys?'-Mr.
Vance. Mr.. Jackson
Glad to know YOU" said Jackson.
VIII you liquor? No? Had yours?
All right. Say, Miss Vancourt, none
Of uor,r 1;++Io b.i, oil o1d o.-+~,o. -
vanilla drinks for me- May I mix
mine? Thanks. Everything here,
guess. Any peppersauce in the
house? Well, never, mind. This is
what we call The Last Squeal' in
Chicago"
Vance's irresistible eye drew Miss
Vancourt aside, while the Chicagoan
juggled with the decanters.
You may have noticed in the
papers" said he. that Packingham
Smith, the reputed head of the Beef
trust is badly wanted by the Iegisla-
tive investigating committee. The
subpoena servers are on his trail
My Office has his description. Are
you sure, HOnOTia that your friends
name is-Dick Jackson?"
Miss Vancourt's musical laugh al
most disarmed him.
Doesn't he, look it? Now. Jack,
don't be so cross, and don't fold your
arms that way You look so STACEY.
Must you go?"
Jack Vance bowed coldly and left
the apartment. On his way>down. as
he buttoned his sIate-colored gloves,
the elevator boy heard him mutter
savagely: ~Chucked out by a Chi
cago chitterlingI"
Miss VancOuIt stood still fo. n mo-
ment watching Jackson mix sherry.
gin, benedictine, rum, orange Bit
ters, and apollinaris. A tender. re-
miniscent look softened her face. He
said | had face like an eight-day
clock" she murmured. "Oh. HI!
But perhaps he meant it as a COM
pliment. Those Western men are so
delightfully."- rude"
Great STUFF said Jackson. Ieav-
ing the sideboard. "You don't get
anything over the bars like that.
Well, how's tricks? Say, Miss Van
court, I'll never forget how you look
ed the first time / saw you in the
surf at Atlantic City That red
bathing suit of yoUrs-oh, blue, was
it?-sure. it was blue. Any more
of your boys going to drop in to-
nignt?"
i think not" said Miss Vancourt.
It's 10 O'Clock now, and"
Great spareribs! is it that late?
l must be going"
Miss Vancourt raised her hand to
invoke silence.
Listen" she said, warningly. DO
you hear that?"
Above the sound Of the still rising
storm far down the steep sides of
the lonely apartment house came
shrill, monotonous, thrilling cries.
"Hark!" she said. do you hear
that, You cannot leave this house
tonight. 1t is impossible. DO you
understand the meaning of those
sounds? 1t is the newsboys crying
an extra. There Is a block in the
Subway. No human being could find
his way downtown on foot on a
night like this. You would wander
into Harlem and be lost forever.
You must stay here and sit up until
daylight l think there is enough
to drink to make you comfortable. ."
Bill Jackson could not but accept.
Brave as he was, the thought of such
fate unnerved him. He set a bot
lie of Scotch on a table close at
hand, and began to describe the
various stages through which
steer passes in the abattoirs before
he arrives at cold storage. Miss
Vancourt listened. entranced. He
was opening a new world to ber-a