The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1914-03-02

| l figure who fitted about in the dark; beautiful girl who was going to ask Mr. Magee to do her a service, blindly trusting her.
 The professor droned on monoto- 1 nously
 An hour passed. Mir. Max admitted l when pressed that good cigar sooth- l ed the soul and accepted another from. Mageess stock. The professor contin- lIued to talk. Obviously it was his ia torite version. He seemed to be quoting from addresses. MT Magee l pictured shim on a Chautauqua plat form. the white pitcher by his side. As he talked MT. Magee studied that portion of his delicate, scholarly face | that the beard left exposed to the world. What part had Thaddeus Bol- ton, holder of the CrandalI chair of comparative literature. in this network of odd alarms? Why was he at Bald pate and why WAS he so little moved by the rapid chaages in the makeup MT. Magee gasping? He took them as calmly as he would take his grapefruit at the breakfast table, Only that morning MT. Magee, by way of expert ment, had fastened upon him the sus- picion of murder, and the old man had /. A not fiiekered an eyelash.
 MT. Max inserted loud yawn into the professors discourse.
 sOnce I played chess with a Ger l man,'' he said, "and another time went to a lecture on purifying poll Etics, but never struck anything so 1 mo1lotonous as this job I got now T was just thinking as set here how it 1 all comes of people being suspicious E-.4s 'Vv6a esJ 7yS held that the world would Le a better place if there wasn't no suspicion in lit Nine times out of ten the suspi- cion ain't got leg to stand on, if srns- picion can be said to have sg-
 Evidently MT. Max desired the floor: graciously Professor Bolton conceded. it to. him. :
 t.Spea king of suspicion continued the drab little man on the threshold, turning his cigar thoughtfuIly be- tween his thin lips, reminds me of case told me by Pueblo Sam a few years ago. In some ways it's real fun ny, and in others it's sad as hades. Pueblo Sam was called in them terms because he'd never been west of Sixth 1 avenue. He was q swell, refined gen tleman who lived by his wits, and he had considerable 2
 t5s A- gee.
 sSomething along that order" admit ted MT. Max. but good sport among his friends, you understand. Well, this | case of suspicion Sam tells me about happened something like this: One scorching hot day in summer Sam gets aboard the Coney boat, his idea being to put all business cares away for an
 hour or two and just float calm and 1 peaceful down the bay and cool off. l So he grabs out camp chair and hus- ties through the crowd up to the flop deck, beside the pilots hangout, and sits down to get acquainted with the breeze, if such there was.
 Well, he'd been sitting there about ten minutes esans tells me, whenaaIong came about the easiest picking that ever got loose from the old homee 1 stead',
 beg your pardon protested Pro lessor Bolton.
 1 sThe ready money, the loosened kaIe
 the posies in the garden waiting to be plucked," elucidated MT. Max. This I guy, Sam says, was such perfect rube 1 he just naturally looked past him to see if there was a trail of wisps of hay
 on the floor. For awhile Sam sits there
 with grouch as he thought how hard I it was to put business aside and get a
 little rest now and then and debating
 whether, being on, vacation. as it l was, he'd exert himself enough to
 stretch forth his hand and take what ever money the guy had. While he l was arguing the matter with himself I the jay settled the question by coming
 over and sitting down near him l Hes in the city, he tells Sam, to In flaka vai<.k
 streets and otherwise forget the trees
 back home that grow the cherries in the bottom of the cocktail glasses.
 And believe me, he says to Sam there
 ain't none of those confidence men go- | ing to get me I'm too wise he says
 I'll bet money you are,' Sam tells
 him laughing all oyer at the fish that
 was fighting to getsinto the net. I :" Yes, siree,' says the last of the Mo
 hicans, they can't fool me. I can tell
 them as fur away as I can see 'em, ,
 and my eyesfght's perfect. One of
 'em comes up to me in City Hall park
 and tries to sell me some mining stock 1 l guess he ain't recovered yet from l what I said to him. I tell you, they
 can't fool Mark Dennen,' says the guy
 Sam told me that at them words he 1 just leaned back in his seat and stared l at the jay and whistled under his
 breath Years ago, it seemed, Sam
 had lived in the town of Readsboro,
 Vt, and ran up and down the streets
 with one suspender and stone bruise,
 and the kid that had run with him was l Mark Dennen. And Sam says he look 1 ed at this guy from the woods that 1 was running round crying to high
 heaven he needed a guaTdIan, and he l sees that sure enough it was the tow
 head Mark Dennen and-Sam told me
 something seemed to bust inside him,
 and he wanted to stretch out his arms
 and hug this guy.
 Mark Dennen,' shouts Sam sas I 1 live. Of Readsboro, Vt The kid
 used to play with under the arc lights l-don't you remember meY