Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1918-10-27
THE PAWNS COUNT

them. You know what I done?
ing to the chair for, But II I could
get out of this I'd do your job. I'm
kind of hating people. I can't get
my girls face out of my mind. Per-
haps II did your job ia have an
other one to think about"
pheasant company, amt he" the
Irishman grunted. He's the real
goods"
Fischer stared at the young man
as though fascinated. He seemed be-
yHnd and outside hdst human stn% %h
his hands in his pockets and his feet
on another chair. The braces hung
from his shoulders upon the floor, his
collarless shirt had fallen a little
open. His face; with it's little tuft
chin. was reminiscent Of the forests.
'Tf you want this Job fixed, Mr..
Stranger" he said, II don't know as
Jake here couldn't take 1t on: tia
have to be done like this. Jake's a
If you had your automobile at spot
could tell you Of one evening. just
at dusk, might get him that far, In
q set of chauffeur's clothes. once on
the box of your auto he'd be out or
this and. could give 'em the e.. slip Iph, fSr
Of to get him near the game"
1.-THE arrangement would suit me-"
Fischer admitted.
Jake suddenly showed a gleaming
s sses 81 stared more than me ever
"Tm game! I'm on to this" he cried
fiercely. "You can have all there Is
coming to me. Sullivan, If get nab
bed, but I'm going to take my FISK.
hate this hole! It's a rats den."
IL ho IN
board, Jake" the Irishman enjoined.
1--WE got to talk business to the gent"
The young man rose to his feet. He
took the bottle Of whisky under his
arm. His face was still ashen, but his
tone. was steady. He gripped Fischer
by the arm.
IT will do your Job" he promised.
IT will do it thoroughly"
He slouched across the floor. entered
his cupboard, and disappeared. Fisch-
err was suddenly aware OF the mols-
thing animallike, absolutely inhuman,
about this creature with whom he had
made his murderous bargain. .
II have no money here, OF course"
he reminded Ills companion.
Don't know . as .I blame ,i you: s gr;n
II saw my toughs lay out guy only
the other day for flashing a smaller
wad than you'd carry. You know the
rules, and guess I'll ring up the bank
tomorrow morning at II o'clock. Does
you'll And the deposit there
Fischer promised. you'd better let
me know when he's ready to take the
Job on"
The Irishman walked to the foot of
tho steps with his visitor.
trapdoor," he directed, land get out
Of the saloon as quick as you can.
There's dago about there keeps our
hands full. Got anything with you?"
Fischer nodded. His hand stole out
Of his overcoat pocket.
like trouble" his host advised.
'They've plenty Of spunk, but I can
tell you they make tracks for their
holes IL they hear one Of those things
bark"
served grimly.
you've some pluck" the Irishman
declared, as he watched his depart
ing guest ascend the steps. Sure,
this is no place for towards, anyway.
And goodnight and good luck to you!
one could"
Fischer beat his little tattoo upon
the trapdoor, crawled through 1t and
underneath the flap in the counter.
OuI INTO inc SHAOoH. rs pduSeu Aof q
moment to look around, on his way to
the door. The fight was apparently
over, for every one was standing at
the counter. drinking with a swarthy-
faced man whose cheeks were stain
ed with blood. From a distant corner
came the sound of groans. The. air
seemed heavier than ever with foul
tobacco smoke. The man at the piano
still thrashed out his unmelodious
chords. Some women In a corner were
pretending to dance. One or two Of
them looked curiously at Fischer. but
he. passed out unchallenged. Even the
air Of the slum outside seemed pure
and fresh after the heated den he
had left. He reached the corner OF the
street in safety and stepped quickly
into his car. He threw both windows
wide open and murmured an order to
the chauffeur. Then he leaned back
and closed, his eyes for a moment: He.
was q man not 'overburdened WIN
imagination, but 1t seemed to him 5ust
altogether to forget the face OF
that ghastly, dehumanized. creature
crouchfng like soma terrified wild AMI
NAL in his fetid refuge. ;
CHAPTER XXI. -.
Mrs. Theodore Hastings was forty
eight years old, which her friends said
was the reason why her mansion on
6th avenue was furnished and lit with
the delicate somberness Of an old
Italian palace. There was about 1t
none of the garishness. the almost re-
splendent brilliancy associated with
the abodes Of many Of our neighbors.
Although her masseuse confidently as