Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1920-07-02
FRANK L. PACKARD

He flung a glance over his shoulder
and his lips set hard. MacVightie
big man tho he was, was no mean
antagonist in race. The detective
quicker in initiative, quicker on his
feet had outdistanced both Lanson
and the dispatcher, and was already
halfway across the street.
Again MacVightie fired.
On the Hawk ran. ii he could
reach the next corresponding
there was MT one about the street.
there was u way, risky way, but
stlll a way, his best chance of escape
The cheap combination lodging house
and saloon, that was Just around the
corner, was where he had room
Yes, it was his one chance! He must
get to cover somewhere without ain
instant's delay. With MacNightie
firing now. emptying his revolver up
the lane, with the yells and shouts
growing constantly in volume from
farther back towards the station. 1t
was only a question of minutes before
the whole heighborhood would be
aroused.
Again he glanced behind him. 1t
was very dark in the lane. He was
grimly conscious that it was the
blackness, and not Macyightie's poor
Workmanship, that had saved him SC
far. That flash OF the others revolver
was perhaps fifty yards away. He
had gained u little, then! II there
was any one around the corner, the
plan of reaching his room would not
serve him, ard he would still have to
run for it. Well, he would see in an
instant--it was only two yards more
Ia yard--noW!
Without slackening his pace, at top
speed he swung from the lane-and,
with a gasp OF relief at sight of an
empty street, slipped into u doorway
just beyond the now dark entrance to
saloon that occupied most OF the
ground floor OF a dirty and squalid
thlee-story building.
The door gave son a narrow flight
of stairs and up these the Hawk
sprang swiftly and with scarcely a
sound. And now, as he ran. he pulled
his mask from hts face and thrust it
into the pay lag; "a pocket book from
his insi0e coat pocket followed the
mask, and, with the pocketbook, the
flashlight. and the two pistols, his
own and Butchers. He opened a
door at the head of the landing, and
stepped into u room, leaving the door
partly open.
: He was mot safe, yet-far from it.
tie. It would be obvious to MIC
'Vightie that he was not far enogh
ahead to have disappeared in any but
one way-into some building within
a very few yards of the lane! And
the presumption. at least, would be
that this was the one.
The Hawk worked now with almost
incredible speed. He switched on the
light, ran to the window that opened
on the rear OF the building, felt with
one hand along the sill outside, lifted
the pay bag out OF the window, let go
of it, and turned instantly back into
the room. He hung up his hat on q
wall peg, and tearing off his jacket,
flung it haphazardly upon the bed.
There was a small table against the
wall near the foot of the bed. The
Hawk opened drawer, snatched up
a pack of cards, and sat down at the
table.
The street door openea end closed.
A quick, heavy tread sounded on the
stairs
In his shirt sleeves, his back to the
door, the Hawk was cody playing
solitaire.
Il guess I'd better be smoking"
murmured the Hawk. Maybe I'm
breathing a little hard"
He picked up a pipe from the table,
lighted maltch-and, half the deck
OF cards in one hand, the lighted
match in the other. swung around in
his chair with a startled jerk.
The door slammed back against the
wall MacVaghtie had unceremoni-
ously kicked it wide open. MacVigh-
tie was standing on the threshold.
The Hawk, in sort of surprised
gasp, sucked the, flame of the match
down into the bowl of his pipe, and
stared at MacVightie thru curtain
of tobacco smoke. The detectives
eyes travelled sharply from the Hawk
around the room, came back to the
Hawk. narrowed, and stepping into
the room, he shut the door with equal
lack of ceremony behind him.
Say. you got a GALL, calculated
the Hawk.
You bet your life 1 have!" flung
out MacVightie. "Now then, my
buckle, what are you doing here?"
Say" said the Hawk, as tho OBJ
sessed with but single idea, "say.
You got a gall! You got gall, bust
ing into a fellows room and asking
him what he's doing there! Say,
maybe you might answer the same
question yourself-eh? What are you
doing here?" =
Your room. 1t it," snapped Mac
Sure, it's my room!" replied the
Hawk, little tartly.
How long you been here?"
Bout week"-the Hawk was
growing ungrtcious.
Boarding here?"
Yes"
"Whered you come FROM" Mac
V1ghtie was clipping off his words.
What do you do for a living?'
Say" said the Hawk politely, you
go to HE'LL"
MacVightie stepped forward to-
ward the Hawk with an ominous
scowl; and, throwing back the lapel
of his coat, tapped grinly with his