Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1916-09-04
S SiIve er
Sandals
A Detective Story of Mys-
terry, Love and Adventure.
By Clinton H. Stagg
Copyright. W. ]. Watt & Co.
international News Service.

's-s-s7S-s-s-s-S-s-s-s-s-S-
maybe they'll kill it. the darn
kids." gasped The Fee. and he lean
ed forward to speak to Michael More
/ speed" he demanded, with all the
force he could put in his boytsh treble.
Never mind the cops! Mister Col
toms in a hurry"
Rut there was no chance of the
chauffeur obeying. They were already
! in the narrow streets of the Peck Slip
section. Michael found 1t different
driving this time. In the early hours
the streets had been partially deserted.
Now they swarmed with dirty, ragged
children, and gaping men and women
with their head bundles and push
carts.
Around the corner came the shrill
voices of children, the cries of men
and women in a foreign tongue.
Michael stopped the car before the
small mob.
A boys voice rose in a scream
Then came another voice, raucous,
rasping:
George Nelson! George Nelson! The
greatest stunt New York ever saw.
Pough-kee- -psie!"
Keep your horn going, and start
slowly" ordered Cotton. He was
standing in the tonneau. his blind eyes
seemed to sweep the men, women,
| and children. The noise died as the
crowd became away of the newcomers
Men yelled warning. Women howled
to their children. Such a fine car, and
such white-haired man could mean
but one thing to them-the police!
Like magic, the crowd melted, dart
| ing into doorways. into alleys, behind
pushcarts, till there was nothing but
| frightened eyes staring from a hun
dred hiding places.
George Nelson! Age twenty-seven!"
| The sawlike voice came from a dark
alley. Under the noses of hun
dred people! Poughkeepsie! Pough
kee- psie"
Get that crow, Shrimp! Get it!
| Hustle!" The voice was a whipcrack.
The words of the bird seemed to have
stirred something within him. His
voice was commanding, unconsciously
sharp. The boy ran to the mouth
of the alley.
Across the street to that little
store" Cotton shot out, and the car
swerved to the opposite curb. Jump
out and get a box to put the bird in!
Give the woman a dollar! Hustle!"
Michael jumped from the car, and
ColtCn settled back in the cushions
| The spots on his cheeks seemed to
glow now; his lean, cleft chin was set
at an angle that boded i'll for some one
He turned his head slightly as his
super-keen ears caught the beat of
wings against the boys arms as he
| struggled to grasp it, and the crow
| screeched it's words:
! George Nelson! George Nelson!
Age twenty-seven! Waiter! Pough-
kee-psie!"
The boy came running back to the
car, with the bird fighting vainly in
his arms. Michael numbered out of
the little store with the box in his
hand.
Put it over the Bird" commanded
! Cotton; his voice and manner like a
live wire sending out its energy. "Po-
lice headquarters! Quick!
The bang of the unmuffled exhaust
roared, the car backed over the low
curb as it swung around. Out of the
/ Bowery, uptown at racing speed, re-
gardless of traffic regulations or sig
mailing police.
Before the big building that housed
the central departments of the city
police system the car stopped. Even
before the wheels had ceased to turn,
the blind man was on the sidewalk
He did not wait for the touch of the
| boys sleeve to guide him here. The
doorman nodded to him, and got no
answer. An unusual thing for the
blind man was noted for his courtesy
Straight to the office of the chief of
detectives he went. A knock at the
door, an invitation to enter, and Col
ton spoke before the chief had
chance to smile his greeting or put
out his hand.
I'D like to see that prisoner you've
got on the Silver Sandals case." The
words fairly cracked command
The chief jumped to obey-he had
felt the touch of the live wire Sur
prise had come to his face at the
voice of the problemist, so different
from the calm, even tones he had al
ways heard before. But he did not
question; he merely acted, just as big
ger men than he had acted on that
tone of command from the blind man.
This way! Strange case!" jerkily
commented the chief, as he led the
way toward the cells MANS dis
guised with dyed hair, and all the col
or's gone from his face with drugs.
| Thought he was drunk first but it's
coke, l guess. Talks about the res
taurant, and getting the man to the
table but we can't get a word about
the actual killing"
Two detectives, lounging in a corner
Strengthened up as the chief approach
ed.
shut up like a clam" growled one.
Cant get word!"
Here we are" The chief stopped
before cell, and glanced through the
| barred door at the man who Law hud
bed. The prisoner did not even look
up; his head was buried in his arms.
Get on your feet!" commanded the
chief. There was not muscle move
ment of the man inside.
Tell me your name" Thornley,
Coltons words seemed to strike the
man in the cell like a shock of a gall
vanic battery. His head lifted, a
flash of expression came to the dull
eyes Tor an instant; but the voice that
answered was dead and mechanical:
George Nelson. Waiter, Age -"
That's enough!' Cotton wheeled
on the chief. Release this mani" he
ordered sharply. "He is nv secre-
tary, Sydney Thames!"
CHAPTER X
Preparations For Murder
Another stone wall Once more
the path that had started straight had
circled to its beginning. The discov-
cry of Sydney Thames as the prisoner