Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1917-06-13

What's that you say? BY heavens,
Shaw, I've spoken once. and III do
it just this one time more; you sing
small if you want to keep out of
jail"
Shaw had lighted his cigarette and
was edging toward the door.
Not this trip. Mr.. Stanton" he
said coolly. IF you've got me,
I've got you. l can find two men who
will go into court and swear that you
paid Pete Simms money to have
Smith sandbagged, that day out at
Simms place at the dam. may have
to go to Jail, as you say; but Ill bet
you five to one that you'll beat me
to it," And with that he snapped the
catch on the locked door and went
away.
Some three hours after this rather
hostile clash with the least trust
worthy but by far the most able Of
his henchmen, Crawford stanton
left his wife chatting comfortably
with Miss Richlander in the hotel
parlors and went reluctantly to keep
an appointment which he had been
dreading ever since the early after
noon hour when n wire had come
from Copah directing him to meet
the Nevada Flyer" upon its arrival
at Brewster. The public knew the
llcillltu SlSllti W Nllt ltlSSl all dS ina
of millionaire statesman; but Stan
ton knew it best as the name of a
hard and not prescriptions master.
The train was whistling for the
station when Stanton descended
from his cab and hurried down the
long platform. A white -jacketed por-
ter was waiting to admit him to the
, presence when the train came to a
stand, and as he climbed into the
NaCtihtIla ~ tho 11IyT f1riNafa
Stanton got what comfort he could
out of the thought that the interview
would necessarily be limited by the
ten minutes engine changing stop
of the fast train.
Stanton, ten minutes later, made a
flying leap from the moving train.
At the cab rank he found the motor
cab which he had hired for the
drive down from the hotel Climbing
in, he gave a brittle order to the
chauffeur. simultaneously a man
wearing the softest of hats lounged
away from his post of observation
under a nearby electric pole and
ran across the railroad plaza to un-
hitch and mount a wiry little COW
pony. Once in the saddle, however,
the mounted man did not hurry his
horse. Having overheard Stanton's
order giving, there was no need to
keep the motor cab in sight as it
sputtered through the streets and
out out upon the backgroundling
mesa, its ill-smelling course ending
at a lonely roadhouse in the mesa
hills on the Topaz trail.
When the hired vehicle came to a
stand in front of the lighted barroom
of the roadhouse, Stanton gave a
waiting order to the driver and
went in. OF the dog-faced barkeeper
he asked an abrupt question, and at
the mans jerk of thumb toward
the rear, the promoter passed on
and entered the private room at the
back.
The private room had but one oc-
cupant-the man Lanterby, who
was sitting behind a round card table
and vainly endeavoring to make one
of the pair of empty whisky glasses
spin in a complete circuit about a
black bottle standing on the table.
The hired car was still waiting
, when Stanton went out through the
barroom and gave the driver his re-
turn orders. And, because the night
was dark, neither of the two at the
car saw the man in the soft hat
straighten himself up from his
crouching place under the bacHroom
window and vanish silently in the
gloom.
To Be Continued