Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1915-12-20

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amiable kind Of gossip, always prom.
Using to disclose something and never
doing it.; and having good deal of
quiet fun out Of it without harming
anyone.
Every man who does one thing we'll
has a craving to do another mans
work badly. Forbes was always hun
gering for detective work. He longed
to pick up the tangled skeins, unravel
It, rescue the heroine. march the vii
lain to jail and all that. Heaven IL
witness Of the plots for detective
stories he has offered me! He has,
believe, the best library of detective
fiction in town. Well, his longings
went unsatisfied. The only thing like
detective work he ever did success
fully was to recover the new paint
tubes before the dachel poisoned him
SELF
He walked uptown, wondering who
the mysterious burglar could be. He
searched carefully among his'large ac-
he disliked; but even then there was
nothing tangible. Lots of buffers
gambled and didn't pay their debts
and never went to Jail for it. II only
he had clue OF some sort to start
with! He knew that he had the abili-
ty; and it was shame he could find
no outlet. I'll give him credit for pos.
sessing the chiefest attribute of all
great detectives-hope.
He continued on, whistling an air
from one of the popular operas. His
thoughts, ever volatile, shifted from
plots Of criminals to the purblindness
of the general run of art editors, and
their more or less slovenly minions.
the three-color process printers; to
the pretty s!-! he had Net at Cannes
last winter; to the campaign tonight
at poker. For once he was going to
play 'em close; he would keep out of
every pot that dealt him no two-spot;
and when he got real hand, he would
play it hard. With deuces wild even
an open player like himself had a
chance once in . while. He turned a
corner, still whistling. The girl with,
the copper-beech hair; supposing she
never went by again? Could he pos
sibly do her from memory?
Forward with swinging stride,
twirling his cane and sometimes strik-
ing the ferrule against the tagging.
pleased with the spansle of answering
sparks; on toward the big drama. For
he was only an implement of fate.
chosen haphazard to accomplish
destiny not his own.
Tho Dryden was new apartment
house, built especially for persons who
had plenty Of money and too small a
family for the upkeep of large house.
They were given all the comforts OF
home; Wallets, maids: cooks, Walters
and bellboys, more like q private hotel.
There were ten apartments, five on
each side of the ornate marble en-
trance. Forbes ran eagerly UP the
steps; the doorboy swung open the
door,
'Mr. Wilson's apartment, please"
Third floor. left, sir" !,
"Ah!" u.
Forbes made for the stairs. The
elevator (called lift here) was up, and
he was too impatient to wait. Besides.
he wanted to surprise the boys, melo-
dramatically. He scarcely paused at
the first landing. He would rather
play poker than eat. And in his ex-
uberance he ! fled to hear the warn
ing call from the doorboy, who had
come on that day and was not yet ac-
curately versed in the topography and
occupancy of the apartments. Forbes
continued his rapid ascent. two steps
at a time. Ho wanted to be at the
door at precisely eight, like that old
chap what's-his-name in Round the
World in Eighty Days."
Z, He tiptoed into the private hall, the
outer door being unlocked. There
was a light over the transom. He.
could see them in his minds eye:
Jillson, Wheedon, Jones, Carlyle, Mil
Ter and Crawford, peering into their
hands, their faces like Buddha gods.
He listened. Not sound. In the
middle of play, no doubt. Stealthily
he put his hand on the knob, turned
and pushed It with the cry "Police!'.
on his lips The word died there, dry
ly. He saw no poker game in action.
Instead, 4 man in evening dress. full
masked. knelt with his back to an
open safe. AZ for the Ytist, he gazed
panic-stricken into the round, black,
sinister hole of Colts automatic. 81
ITO Be Continued.)