Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1914-08-03
The
OOGOON
Bp JOHN A. MOROSO
Copyright, 1918. by Little. Brown q Co


Ranscombe brought his right fist
down on his desk and shot out his low
er jaw as he stared at Kearney.
You bloodhound!" he half screamed.
Kearney sat down in n chair beside
the desk and half covered his face with
his big. red paws.
BOSS" he Groaned. Montgomery
WIS the kind of man who would be
Prucitied for those he loved"
How did you trail him?"
81 went to his home town and found
that his mother was dead" explained
the man hunter. 81 looked up the
cemetery and found that the keeper
was being paid for caring for the
grave. | traced the letters inclosing
the money and found that the SON
Didn't you have heart enough or
brains enough to stop?'
when l reached him | wanted to
stop. l wanted to stop. boss. But you
trained me never to let up"
Ranscombe kicked back his chair
and paced the room, holding in his
hands the telegram he had taken from
his desk. He shuddered when he paus-
ed before his sleuth whom he had
trained so well.
Read that" he said. handing him
the telegram.
Kearney scratched his head as he
read the words of this message:
Tucson, Arizona
Ranscombe. Chief Detectives. New York:
Harry CUTLER. old yegg. dying here of
consumption. confesses murder of True
blood. bank Waterman. New York, eleven
years ago. E~x-convict named Hawkins
found him in bad lands and brought him
in. ALSOP. Chief.
The Inspector had gone to a window
and was staring out of it abstractedly.
kearney read the telegram a second
and then a third time. He looked up
at the broad back of his chief. placed
the telegram on his desk and moved
gingerly from the room. He did not
lift his eyes or speak a word as he
passed Jimmy Dunn, perched round
and cherub-like on a chair at the big
desk of the assembly room. His travel
ing bag lay outside. He picked it up
without stopping and departed from
headquarters.
Kearney took a trolley to Duane
street and transferred to a horse car
to the farther east side.
The dust and CRIME of long travel
were still on him. In the return from
the last lap In the long man hunt that
had taken eleven years he had had too
many things to think over to bother
about wash basins and combs and
brushes. On the stoop of the old fash
toned house in Oliver street he found
a group of old Irish women of the
neighborhood. He knew their faces
and nodded to them.
They huddled in a tighter knot of
worried humanity.
whats the matter?' he demanded.
"Ye're none too soon.' said one of
them.
The others began to Groom softly to
themselves. He knew what that
meant.
The grip fell from his hand. but he
steadied himself and entered the house,
mounting the stairs slowly. Ae walk
ed into the kitchen of the little fat
and found it spotlessly clean.
An old woman sat in a chair by the
window, the beads of a rosary pass
ing through her withered fingers.
She was not his mother!
Kearney removed his hat and cross
ed the threshold of his old mothers
bedroom. She lay in bed. and at first
he thought her asleep.
Her hands. like brown wax. were
clasped about the last copy of the
key of Heaven" he had bought for
her.
Beside the head of the bed two holy
candles burned on a little table. A
priest knelt on the floor. praying for
the soul of the departed.
Kearney fell upon his knees and
crossed himself once, twice and a third
time.
A cry OF distress came from the bot
tommost reaches of his heart in q low,
pitifully sad whine.
Ale. ale. aiel' 1t sounded.
1t was the plant of an animal with