The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1912-05-29
ONE BEST BET.
Continued From Saturday,


Continued From Saturday,
Their seats, which they attain
ed with some difficulty, were
within few feet of the COVER
nor's box. Within reach Of them
sat Carroll Morrison, his long,
pale, black-bearded face set in
that immobility to which he had
schooled it. But the cold eyes
roved restlessly and the little
muscles at the corners of the
mouth twitched.
Tell me that he isn't in on the
camel" whispered Average Jones,
and Waldemar nodded.
The sound of music from down
the street turned all faces in
that direction. A roar Of cheer
ing swept toward them and was
taken up in the stands. The
governor in his high coach, came
in sight. And, at that moment,
terror struck into the soul of
Waldeman.
Suppose they came back!" he
whispered to Average Jones.
We've left the house unguard-
ed"
eve fixed that" replied the
Advisor in the same tone.
Watch Morrison!"
Governor Arthur approached
the civic statue. An official
running out to the coach, handed
him a silken cord, which he Sc
cured with a turn around the
wrist. The coach rolled on. The
cord tauntened; the swatching
sundered and fell from the gleam-
ing splendor of marble, and a
binding flash, followed by an
other, and a third, blotted out the
scene in unbearable radiance.
Involuntarily Morrison, like
thousands of others, had screen
ed his sight with his hands after
the second flash. Now, as the
kindlier light returned, he half
rose, rubbing his eyes furiously.
A half-groan escaped him. He
sank back, staring in amaze. For
Governor Arthur was riding on,
calm and smiling amid the shouts.
Morrison shrank. Could it be
that the governors eyes were
fixed on his? He strove to shake
off the delusion. He felt, rather
than saw the guest Of honor
descend from the coach; felt
rather than saw him making
straight toward himself; and he
WINGED and quivered at the sound
of his own name.
"Mr. Morrison" the governor
was saying, at his elbow, Mr..
Morrison, here is paper that
may interest you. Better luck
next time"
Morrison strove to reply. His
voice clucked in his throat. and
the hand with which he took the
folded newspaper was as the
hand of a paralytic.
Hes broken" whispered Av-
erage Jones.
He went straight to Governor
Arthur, speaking in his ear. The
governor nodded. Average Jones
returned to his seat to watch
Carroll Morrison who sat, with
hell-fires of fear scorching him,
until the last band had blared its
way into silence.
Again the governor was speak
ing to him.
''Mr. Morrison, l want you to
visit house near here. Mr.. Jones
and Mr.. Waldemar will come
along; you know them, perhaps.
Please don't protest. l positively
will not take a refusal. We have
a moter-car waiting"
Furious, but not daring to re-
fuse, Morrison found himself
whirled swiftly away, and after q
few turns to shake off the crowd,
into Spencer Street. With his
captors, he mounted to the third
floor of an old frame house. The
rear room door had been broken
in. Inside stood a strange in
strument, resembling large
camera, which had once stood up
right on a steel tripod riveted to
the floor. The legs of the tripod
were twisted and bent. A half
demolished chair near by sug-
gested the agency of distinctions
Just to render it harmless"
explained Average Jones. 1t
formerly pointed through that
window, SO that bullet from the
barrel would strike that pole way
yonder in Harrison Street. after
first passing through any inter
yening body. Yours, for in
stance. Governors"
do l understand that this is
q gun. Mr.. JONES'" asked that If
ficial.
"Of sort" replied the Adj
Visor. opening up the camera
box and showing a large barrel