Bisbee daily review., 1916-11-05

| she told herself as she carried her ia ther's dinner pail to the factory the next day, and she hated the hard voiced foreman of the shaft room. She turned to stare belligerently towards Anson Applewaithe, the immaculate son of the factory owner himself, as he ushered into the room of whirring shafts and flying belts a small group of visitors.
 Yet the Ishmael-like young face soft ened little as she looked at one mem Der of that approaching group. For one fair-haired girl of about twenty, dressed in black, whom young Apple waithe piloted about amid the roaring and clattering machinery and repeat edly addressed as Miss Golden" was beautiful enough to bring a wayward pang of envy to the breast of Peggy O'Mara. AS she watched her eyes sud denly widened in alarm. For Margery Golden, in staring about the room, had unconsciously moved closer to one of the ponderous machines. There the loose end of her motor-cape was snapped at by a spinning cog wheel, as a hound snaps at a bone. The next moment the whirling teeth had fas- tened themselves Tn the fabric Of the garment edge, carrying it back be- tween the jaws of the twin cogs that quickly closed on the cloth and seemed to reach out for more.
 At the same moment that Margery Golden turned about to determine the meaning of this sudden tug at her clothing, the alert-eyed Peggy OMara made an apparently maniacal spring for that astounded young womans throat
 With quick jerk of her thin young fingers Peggy tore the cape free where 1t was already straining against the white column of it's wearer's throat
 1t was not until Margery Golden saw the iron teeth of the cog wheels swallowing up the last of her vanish. ing cape that any inkling of her dan. ger came home to her.
 Margery Golden stepped back and leaned against guard rail Then, aft CT looking studiously at the slattern and slightly abashed figure of her de- liyerer, she opened her pocketbook and from it took out two or three neat ly folded bank notes. These she held smilingly out to the girl with the broken-toed shoes.
 But a quick flash spread over the usually colorless cheeks of Miss Peggy O'Mara as she backed determinedly away from the bills.
 Don't you care to take them?' asked the somewhat astonished young woman in black.
 No ma'am!" was the girls almost suIlen reiort. '"I ain't earned 'emi"
 ''But I rather think you have" per sisted the other, still smiling.
 You see, you saved my life. And surely you won't embarrass me by arguing that it's not worth that mUchl"
 T don't want your money" an. nounced the sullen-eyed girl, putting her hands behind her. But already young Appiewaithe was discreetly do ing his best to pilot his visitors away from the scene.
 Peggy OMara stared after the 6e- parting group. So intently did she stare after them that she was oblivi- ous of the movements of the one-arned man who had been stooping low over his machine. in pretense of filling it's oil cups. He crept out to where a small gold locket had dropped from Margery Golden's neck during the en- counter. He caught it up from the oil stained floor, looked at it for one short moment, and then slipped it triumph anJiy into his pocket. After that he stood behind his machine, well out of sight, watching the fair-haired girl in | black as she stepped out through the l factory door. His eyes. as he watched | her, were both calculating and siIis- | ter. But the pallid-faced girl standing 1 SO close beside him had no means of l knowing that this preoccupied and i stoop-shOuldered workman who had l lost his right hand was Jules Legar, long known to his enemies as the ] Iron Claw.
 That mysterious one-arIned man, ! however, was destined to become bet l ter acquainted with Peggy OMara !. than she imagined. For that night, 1 when the uneasy-mindcd girl knew her ' father to be once more shut up in his !. cellar workroom, she was further i disturbed by the sound of stealthy steps across the bare wooden floor of | her home. She tiptoed out through i the door, crossed to the cellar steps, | and crept silently down into the dark | ness.
 There, vaguely outlined against the i door cracks in the wall shielding her , father, she could make out a stealthily | inquisitive figure. And she knew that | figure could mean no good to the house | or O'Mara.
 She crept as silently up the broken steps again, went to her fathers time | worn tool chest and from it took out a . somewhat rusty but ominous-lookins | revolver |
 The thiurarned girl with the thick | bodied revolver then creDt back t0- ! wards the cellar She had reached tho . top Of the stairs when sho saw dark |