Bisbee daily review., 1916-09-10

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 a 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 so, slipped hand in under the lapel of the older mans coat, lifted a wallet lightly from it's pocket, and stood upright again. Then, with a 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 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 gonei" 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. 'Tal- cum powder? Of course there was money in it-over four hundred dol lars in greenbacksi"
 Manley shook his head in mock sor- row.
 This, sir, looks like very grave carelessnessl"
 Tt 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 district that might be fit- tingly denominated as No Mans land.
 One of the least savory habita- tions adorning that fringe of city's iiotsam was the ruinous boathouse or a 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 worn tarpaulin aside and studied row of cognac casks.
 So intent was his study of this wealth of joy to be that he saw and heard nothing of a slender-bodied stranger who quietly approached his abode, entered it, and stared studious- ly about. What made this intruder i even more mysterious was the fact i that across the upper part of his face !, he wore a narrow band of yellow cloth. I
 The movements of this mysterious ! stranger were marked by celerity. ] When his investigations, in fact, were 1, suddenly interrupted by a sound which ! grew louder along the narrow road l 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 two-horse wagon driven by ] a slattern-shouldered and white-beard !  ed man of about sixty.
 The masked intruder crept back | 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 i his inert captive to a nearby beam, lashed 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 a squeak, like the squeak of a rat behind a wainscoting, as the strangers revolver was thrust 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 ! was being backed unceremoniously