The Clio messenger. (Clio, Mich.) 1907-current, 1915-10-15

Cash the check at the Federal Ma.
tional. Put two hundred thousand to
the order Of Trevor"
Two hundred thousand" Fifty-ff-
ty had always been our split.
Lesson" he said laconically, with
out raising his eyes.
So the dog was to be kicked as IL
came to lick the hand of the master!
Don't you think I've learned my
lcsson?" snapped angrily.
Thought so several times, jim"
He looked up now, his devilish
blank eyes meeting mine.
My eyes fell, the words that were
on my lips checked back. What could
l do?
"All right" / agreed bitterly.
"To the order of Trevor" he re-
peated.
That was his way. l would put the
check in Trevor's name-he knew
that was the bank where / had my
money-and there would never be any
connection with tie robbery OF the
old man and ]. Michael Garven, the
respectable broker.
II l had cashed it and taken bills
they would be traced il anything
came up. He knew, also, that II
were arrested / would tell where
took the money. But l was to turn
my partner all the way through.
How Mike was to get it finally was
something that he had probably fig
ured out just as Sticky, and / knew
it was way that would never be
brought back to him.
81 don't want Trevor to work with
me again." declared emphatically.
"He won't. Been drinking tor
much. He's going to beat it quick al
ter this"
So another worker had become use.
less. How long would it be before
went the way Of the others-before
l, too, became worthless to this man
who had neither body nor soul?
"Have you got anything on him."
asked curiously, not that l had the
slightest sympathy for the whisky
faced accomplice who had been forced
on me.
This Walton thing"
what" half rose from my
chair, cold fear clutching my heart.
Why, l was
"You, too, jim" He answered my
thoughts, just as he had anticipated
my every action.
"Good Heaven, Mike!" choked,
grabbing at the desk to steady M
trembling body. You're not going
throw me down."
Eyes" He answered as he might
have answered query regarding the
weather. you've caused me more
trouble than any other man I ever
had" The dead, monotoned voice con-
demned me as though ! were not even
present.
I staggered back to my chair and
licked my dry lips as l tried to form
words in my fear-strictured throat.
mot for-murder, Mixer" l finally
managed to groan. That was the only
thought l was capable Of thinking as
/ sat there-the thought OF those dew
ilish fingcr-prints that pointed to the
electric chair. Death! l couldn't die
now!
mo The two hundred thousand
fixes that. This Walton case will be
ALL You'll get weeks start, any
way"
THANK God" I breathed, and
meant it. Nothing else mattered.
was to live | cared not for the fact
that ever afterward l was to be a
marked man--that the police OF a
thousand cities would have my dc.
scription and my photograph.
Everything but those nnger-prints
And there was pitiful eagerness in my
voice as l thanked my Maker because
was to be allowed to hold my useless
life short while longer.
"I'm not fearing your failure to got
that twohundred thousand" he went
on. IF there should be any slip-ur
I'd feel it my duty as respectable
laW-aDldlnS clIlZen 10 ten WHdI hHoW
about those prints the murderer OF
OHagen so carelessly left behind"
A law-abiding citizen!
"You know didn't do that" / cried
passionately, uselessly.
That's something you'll have tc
settle with the Bertillon experts
jim"
So he dismissed me.
/ think l staggered from the office
l know that the rat-faced guard !e'
loose his nasty, sneering laugh, and
whirled on him. There must have
been something in MY face that had
never been there before, because he
jumped away with an animal-like crJ
of terror, his face contorted with his
white-livered fear. snarled some
thing that made him cover farther IL
the corner as / went out.
In the street l tried to brace VI
when 7 noticed the curious glances