Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1916-09-22

Well, take my advice-marry Tom
Blake that day. And I'll make your
peace with your father afterward."
Marjorie sped to Tom with this in
spired suggestion. And the wedding
date was accordingly fixed for June L.
Tom, aglow with delight at the
prospect, and at the promise of raise
in pay, hurried back to the Office
after his lunch-time chat with Mar
jorie.
1t was busy day, and. during the
afternoon detail of work arrived that
had to be completed in haste. Tom
at once volunteered to stay after
hours to finish it.
AS he at last laid aside the COM
pleted task and reached for his hat
and coat he heard rap at the door
of the outer Office Answering the
summons he admitted James Sullivan,
a customer of the firm.
Hello, Blake" the visitor greeted
him, pulling wallet from his pocket.
81 sold my old car this evening for
$3.50. Here it is. In ffties. Please
ask Lampson to keep it on deposit
here till I get back to town"
But" objected Tom, "only Mr..
Lampson and the cashier have the
combination of the safe. What shall
I do with this overnight? Where shall
/ put it?"
"Oh. just take personal care of it."
suggested Sullivan.
He was gone leaving Tom looking
down perplexedIy at the ffty-dollar
bills in his hand. Tom, after a mo-
ment's thought, went to the telephone
and called up Roger Lampson at the
latter's house. telling his employer of
Sullivan's deposit.
''Put it somewhere for the night, :"
replied Lampson, land turn it over to
the cashier in the morning. Thanks,
Just the same, for calling me up to
let me know"
Tom opened a drawer of his desk;
then reconsidered, and decided the
money would be safer in his own
keeping. Office thefts we're not uncom-
mon and there was always the danger
of fire.
So he took out a long envelope,
wrote his name and the firms address
on it, put the money in the envelope,
sealed it and placed it in the inside
pocket of his vest. Then he locked
the office and went out into the street.
The hour was late and he was
rY1 hun Gu
a short cut through network of
squalid streets to bring him to his own
boarding place. He had gone only
few blocks when he noticed on cur
tanned street window the sign:
'Harding's cafe"
The window was not over-clean and
the street was uninviting. But hunger
is seldom fastidious.
Choosing a meal from the list dis
played on the greasy and much
thumbed menu, he gave his order and
sat back to wait.
=
Lizzie Reisen was lady who lived
by her wits. And she had good sharp
wits to live by. She did not care for
her patronymic, and early in her hec-
tic career she had changed it to !"Lu-
lette Fortescue." But an unapprecia-
tive police force had renamed her
Light Fingered Liz
Liz entered the main room Of the
cafe and glanced around with seem
ing carelessness which, none the less,
took in every detail and every patron
of the place. Her rowing glance at
last paused at sight of something
that promised to be interesting.
At an alcove table sat a well-dressed
young man in front of whom waiter
was Just then setting a cup of coffee.
AS the waiter leaned over him, Liz
saw the young man raise his hand
nervously toward one side of his vest.
That tip was quite enough for Light
Fingered Liz. She crossed to the
alccve.
Pardon me-" she said, politely. "Do
you mind if I sit here? The outer
room is so smoky"
mot at ALL" said Tom absently.
The girl picked up the menu and
studied it. But her fingers seemed to
be awkward For she let the greasy
card fall to the floor. 1t struck near
Toms feet. He stopped to pick it up.
During the fraction of second that
his head was below the table edge,
LIS hand shot forward with unbe-
lievable swiftness, dropped something
into the cup of coffee and returned as
quickly to her own lap.
Tom Blake was aware of racking
headache, a rankly bad taste in his
mouth, a sense of nausea. He sat up
and blinked. He-yes, he must have
been fast asleep.
His watch was gone. So was his
chain. And his vest was unbuttoned.
His fingers flew to the inside pocket.
It was empty.
A gurgling cry, like that which is
wrung from the dying, burst from
Toms dry lips.
What was to be done? And, from
long habit, conscience answered.:
Tell the truth" But his cooler tudg-
ment realized that in the present case
4bo +r,,+b WOO fha ona thing no c0lIld