Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1908-02-13
Martin Hewitt,
Investigator.
The Loss of Sammy
Crockett.
By ARTHUR MORRISON.
Published by Arrangement With
Harper & Brothers.

be thoroughly at home among
~ any and every class of people
and to be able to interest himself in
diligently, or to appear to do so, in
their various pursuits. In one of the
most important cases ever placed in
his hands he could have gone but a
short way toward success had he not
displayed some knowledge of the more
= sordid aspects Of professional sport.
The great case itself had nothing to
do with sport and, indeed, from a mar
rat1ve point Of view was somewhat un
interesting, but the man who alone
held the one piece Of information want
ed was a keeper, hacker or 'gaffer" Of
professional pedestrians, and it was
through the medium Of his pecuniary in
terest in such matters that Hewitt was
enabled to strike a bargain with him.
The man was a publican on the out
skirts Of Padfeld, a northern town
pretty famous for its sporting tastes,
and to Padfeld therefore Hewitt be-
took himself, and, arrayed in a way to
Indicate some inclination of his own
toward sport, he began to frequent the
~ VI ShS A1oAC CAu LOuAuSs NCullSu,
the landlord, was q stout, bull necked
man Of no great communicativeness
at first, but after a little acquaintance
he opened out wonderfully, became
quite a jolly (and rather intelligent)
companion and came out with innumer-
able anecdotes Of his sporting adven-
lures. Good terms with Mr.. Kentish
was Hewitt's great desire, for the in
formation he wanted was Of a sort
that could never be extracted by casual
questioning, but must be a matter of
open communication by the publican.
"Look here" said Kentish one day,
"1ll put you on to a good thing, my
boy-a real good thing. OF course you
know all about the Padfeld 1876 yards
handicap being run off now"
"Well, 1 haven't looked into it much,''
Hewitt replied. Ran the first round
of heats last Saturday and Monday,
didn't they?"
"They did. Well"-Kentish spoke in
a stage whisper as he leaned over and
raped the table-"Tve got the final
winner in this house." He nodded his
head, took a puff at his cigar and added
in his ordinary voice, Don't say moth
ing"
mo, of ours not. Got something
on, Of course"
Rather! What do you think? Got
any price I liked. Been saving him up
for this. Why, he could win runnin'
back'ards. He won his heat on Mon
day like-like-like that!' The gaffer
snapped his fingers in default of a bet
ter illustration and went on: "You take
my tip-back him for his heat next
Saturday in the second round and for
the final. You'll get a good price for
the final if you pop it down at once.
But don't go maxim a song Of it, will
you, now?"
Thanks very much. It's awfully
good Of you. I'll do what you advise.
But isn't there a dark horse anywhere
else?"
"Not dark to me, my boy; not dark
to me. 1 know every man runnin' like
a book. Old Taylor-him over at the
Copies got a very good lad, and he's
a fryer this time, I know, but, bless
you, my lad could beat him without
trying. You back him."
II shall if you're as sure as that.
But who is he?"
"Oh, Crockett's his name-Sammy
Crockett. He's quite a new lad. I've
got young Steggles looking after him.
Sticks to him like wax. Takes his lit
tie breathers in my bit O. ground at the
back here. I've got a cinder sprint
path there over behind the trees. I
don't let him out O. sight much, 1 can
tell you. He's a straight lad, and he
knows it III be worth his while to stick
to me, but there's some 'ud poison him
if they thought he'd spoil their books"
Soon afterward the two strolled to-
ward the taproom. 81 expect Sammy
III be there" the landlord said, with
Steggles. l don't hide him too much
they'd think I'd got something extra
on if I did"
In the taproom sat a lean, wire
drawn looking youth with sloping
shoulders and a thin face, and by his
side was a rather short, thick set
mar who had an odd air, no matter
what he did, Of proprietorship and sur
Ve11idASc VI tue leau yOuIu. several
other men sat about, and there was
loud laughter, under which the lean
youth looked sheepishly angry.
"'Tarn't no good, Sammy, lad"
some one was saying, you a-makin'
after Nancy Webb. She'll ha' nowt to
do with 'ee."
What about Nancy Webb" asked
Kentish, pushing open the door.
"Sammy's all right, anyway. You keep
fit, my lad. an go on improving, and
some day you'll have as good a house
as me. Never mind the lasses. Come
out now" He nodded to Steggles,
who rose and marched Sammy Crock
EFT away for exercise.
On the following afternoon Gt was
Thursday as Hewitt and Kentish chat
ted in the landlords own snuggery
Steggles burst into the room in a
great state Of agitation and spluttered
out, "He-he's bolted; gone away!"
"What?'
"sammy-gone! Hooked It! I can't
find him."