The Richmond palladium and sun-telegram. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1907-1939, 1916-07-25
The
Iron Claw

"|hy, man, are you blind7 Can't
you see this woman is sincere, that
she's telling the truth. that she prob
ably holds in her hand the key of all
your future hapniness?"
The key to my happiness Is no
longer in that woman's hands," an
nounced Golden. Yet a tremulous
! note in his great voice sent wave
Of pity surging through the younger
man, whose arm went out to the stoop-
ing shoulder so close to him. And
that Unexpectedly intimate touch, ap-
parently. was too much for the al
ready unnerved man at the desk, for
with gesture oddly poignant he lift
ed his hand and pressed it against his
closed eyes. as though in an effort to
shut away actualities which were too
dark to be endured.
Manley, as he did 80. slipped hand
in under the lapel of the older mans
coat, lifted wallet lightly from its
pocket, and stood upright again.
Then, with shrug that was almost
one of pity as he looked down at the
still silent millionaire, he turned
away and slipped out Of the room.
The departing woman had already
passed through the street door before
he could overtake her. She stopped
wonderingly at his call to her.
"Mr. Golden, madam, seems to have
changed his mind. Here are few
hundred dollars from him, which may
be of material assistance to you in this
matter you spoke Of"
Manley, who had taken the roll Of
bills from the wallet, was quite SOL
emn-faced as he handed the money to
the equally solemn-faced woman. Yet
the shadow of smile played about
his lips as he watched the austere
figure in black disappear from sight.
Then he turned back to the library.
There he found Golden pacing back
and forth, padding grotesquely about
from pocket to pocket.
"Manley, my wallets gone!" was
the financier's cry.
Was there any money in it," in
quired the secretary.
What d you suppose I'd keep in
it," was the impatient demand. Tai
cum powder? Of course there was
money in it-over four hundred dol
lars in greenbacks!"
Marley shook his head in mock sor-
row.
This, sir, looks like very grave
carelessness!"
1T looks like very grave thievery to
me-" snapped the older man.
The Emissary in Oak.
Midway between that portion Of New
York harbor, known as the Upper bay,
and the open reaches Of the sea that
wash up the sands of Manhattan
beach, lies a district that might be fit
tingly denominated as No Mans land.
One of the least savory habita-
tions adjoining that fringe Of city's
f1otsam was the ruinous boathouse of
certain Oyster Joe.
And Oyster Joe, the river pirate,
looked the part The unsteadiness Of
his still muscular limbs, the looseness
Of his swollen lips, the unkemptness
of his entire surroundings, all united
to proclaim him lover of the cup that
can cheer and at the same time inebri-
ate. This fact, indeed, was further
evidenced by the earnestness with
which Oyster Joe, himself making his
way into the sail loft, lifted a worn
tarpaulin aside and studied a row Of
cognac casks.
So intent was his study of this
wealth of joy to be that he saw and
heard nothing of slender-bodied
stranger who quietly approached his
abode, entered it, and stared studious-
ly about. What made this intruder
even more mysterious was the fact
that across the upper part Of his face
he wore narrow band of yellow cloth
The movements of this mysterious
stranger were marked by celebrity.
When his Investigations, in fact, we're
suddenly interrupted by sound which
grew louder along the narrow road
winding inland through the salty
marshes. he crept to the door, peered
out and prepared himself for a prom
ised intruder. For approaching Oys-
ter Joe's boathouse he could plainly
make out a two-horse wagon driven by
slattern-shouldered and white-beard-
ed man of about sixty.
The masked intruder crept back
through the boathouse, entered the
sail loft and stealthily approached the
still musing figure Of Oyster Joe. In
a moment he had the old pirate bound
and gagged.
Then, hearing the wagon wheels al
most at the door, the stranger dragged
his inert captive to a nearby beam,
dashed him to it and over him threw
the tarpaulin from the cognac casks.
Slipping back to the outer rooms
the masked stranger drew his revolver
and stood close in beside the shadow
of the door, calmly waiting for the
man who had already alighted from
the wagon.
From the mouth behind the white
whiskers came squeak, like the
squeak of a rat behind wainscoting,
as the strangers revolver was thrust j
into his startled old face.
Before he could quite recover from
that initial shock Of surprise a strand
Of rope was around his wrists and he |