The Detroit times., 1911-07-13
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TO re-read the address. II was dirty
envelope. of the same shape as my own
which still lay upon the table, and adj
dressed not to me, but TO Mr.. Tabor.
carefully replaced the single sheet
and as carefully slowed the whole In
an inner pocket. II seemed a matter
for Mr.. Tabor's eyes alone.
Lady's voice came clearly through
the curtained door. thought II sound
ed a little strained.
Mr.. Maclean. I don't see why you
should come TO me at all about this
matter. II we have dark green auto
mobile. SO have ten thousand people.
And your story Of millionaire kidnap-
ers on an errand of violence Is hardly
the kind OF thing-if this Is q joke. II
seems to me I'm very poor taste"
1T won't quite do. Miss Tabor" the
man answered. "1Tisnt a joke. and
maybe the best thing you can do y to
be frank with me-"
What am to be frank aboutf You
see, Mr.. Maclean, the last man that
came In to talk frankly wanted to sell
us silver polish. Excuse me. but you
have really nothing TO sell, have your
He laughed, humorously embar-
rassed. why, no. At least. 1 don't
want TO sell you anythin'. Don't you
sometimes call yourself LAdyf"
Mr.. Maclean!"
II only mean" he hurried on that
I found your telegram on the moor.
Coming for you In the car you said
Honestly. don't you think we're
wastin' timer
Lady gave little cry, and with two
strides was at the door and had
jerked aside the curtain. IF this tel
low is annoying you" began.
The two were standing before me,
Lady leaning back against the table as
II at bay. The man was taller than /,
and thin with vibrant energy. He
turned half about at my voice.
Jumping June-bugs!" he cried air
lily. It's Crosby"
mo other, Mac" laughed. What
In the world are you Raging Miss
Tabor about?"
Maciean Flushed. See here,
Laurie" he stammered, I'm a news
paper man. you see? What's more.
I'm thought by some to be q good one.
| rye got the goods on this story. and
you people ought TO come across. IL
won't hurt you any. Were you the
cheese that lugged the murdered
scrubess down three flights Of stairsf'
| Lady looked at me imploringly. But
the cat was so far out or the bag BY
now that I had to use my Judgment
1T was" answered. What are you
| going to make out OF II Z"
Nov you're talkin'. Tell me the
story"
mot for publication" said I. with
a glance at Lady, because there's no
story to publish. In the FIRST place.
you're barking up the right tree. but
! It's q mighty little one. In the sec
ond place, I've fallen 30 low as to be
an assistant professor with dtgni-
fed reputation. Neither Miss Tabor
nor l are going TO be head-lined to
make journalistic holiday; and IL We
were, you wouldn't write It."
Maclean gnawed bony knnckle and
pondered. Darn you," he said. Beg
your pardon. Miss Tabor sposa j
can't, after that. But you'll admit I
had the goods. don't see how | can
20 back with nothing. They send me
out on these things because general
ly make good, you seer"
your imagination always was your
greatest charm. Get to work, and use
It. Miss Tabor, this human gimlet 10
Stride Maclean. Let me give him
decent introduction: he probably
sighted the matter. This gentleman,
for he was a gentleman before he be-
came a star reporter. had the honor
TO belong TO my class. and he sings q
beautiful tenor. Naturally he was
popular; he may even have friends
yet. Well tell him all about II, and
then perhaps we'll drown him. One
crime more or less matters little to
people OF our dye"
Maclean scowled at me and
laughed.