Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1920-02-11
THElMIDDLETEMPL EMLlRDER
A Detective Story by J. S. Fletcher

smell of printers ink in your nose
ana whirring of printing presses in
your ears. You made another dive into
a dark entry, much encountered by bales
| 2t paper, crates of printing material.
lars OF printing ink /; after falling over
tew OF these you struck an ancient
lght OF stairs ana went up past various
andings, always travelling in state
| Vt gloom and fear. After a lot of twist
| ng ana turning you came to the very
'op of the house and found it heavily
'urtaincd off. You lifted curtain and
ound yourself in small entresol, some
"hat artistically painted-the whole
ma solo work of an artistic member
! VINO came one day with a formidable
1rray of lumber and paint pots and
| worked his will on the ancient wood.
| .hen you saw the brass plate and its
Eearful name, and beneath it the formal
'rgal notice that this club was duly
cgistered and so on, aud if YOU were
4 member you went in. and if you
weren't member you tinkled an elec-
tric bell AID asked to see member
II YOU knew one.
Spargo was not q member. but he
knew many members. and he tinkled the
pei; and asked the boy who answered
it for MIR. Starkey. Mr.. Starkey. a
young gcntlema; with the biceps of
prize fighter and head Of curly hair
that would have done credit to An
tinous, came forth in lue course and
shook Spargo by the hand until his
teeth ratified.
Had we known YOU were coming"
said Mr.. Starkey, wed have had y
brass band on the STAIRS
Il want to come in,' remarked
Sporgo.
"sure!,' said Mr.. starkey. That's
what you've come for
"Well, stand out of the way, then.
and let's get in" said SSpargo Look
here he continued when they had
penetrated into a small vestibule,
doesn't old Crowfoot turn in here
about this time every night?''
Every night as true as the clock
my son SpRrgo, Crowfoot puts his nose
in at precisely eleven having by that
line finished that daily column wherein
he informs a section of the populace a.
to the prospects of their spotting a
winner tomorrow" answered Mr.. Star
key. Its five minutes to his holn
row. Come in and drink till he comes
Want him?'
"A wo"d with him." answered Spar
20. a mere wird--or two.'
He followed Starkey into a room
which was so filled with smoke and
sound that for 4 moment it was impos-
Sible to either see or hear. But the
smoke was gradually making itself into
a canopy, Gnd"bcneath the canopy Spar
20 made out various groups of men of
oll ages, sitting around small tables.
smoking and drinking, and all talking
rs If the great object Of their lives was
to get aa many words rs possible out
of their mouths in the shortest possible
time. In the further corner was small
bar. Starkey pulled Spargo up to it.
,'tarkey. TRY the Octoneumenoi very
'%tra special. Two of 'em. Dick Come
20 beg to be a member. Spargo?'
IN think about being a member of
this anteroom of the internal regions
when you start ventilating fan and
provide members with route map of
the way from Fleet street." answered
Spargo taking his glass. '.Phew =
What an atmosphere!
We're considering a ventilating
fan said Starkey. 'I'm on the house
committee now. and | brought that
very matter up at our last meeting.
But Tenpleson. of the Buletin-you
know Templeson-hc says what we
want is a wine cooler to stand under
that sidebOard-says no club is proper
without wine cooler. and that he
knows chap-second hand dealer,
'on't you know-what has n beauty to
dispose of in old Sheffield plate. Now.
if you were on our house committee,
Spargo, old man. would you go in for
the wine cooler or the ventilating fan?
Nou s"c-'
There is Crowfoot." said Spargo.
"Shout him over here, Starkey, before
anybody else collars him."
Through the door by which Spargo
had entered Il few minutes previously
came n man who stood for n moment
blinking at the smoke and the lights.
He was u tall. elderly man with figure
and bearing of Il soldier; big, sweep
ing mustache stood well out against a
square cut jaw and beneath promi-
nent nose; a pair of keen blue eyes
looked out from beneath tousled mass
Of crinked hair. He wore neither hat
nor cap: his attire was a carelessly
put on Norfolk suit of brown tweed ;
he looked half unkempt, half groomed.
Put knotted at the collar of his flannel |
shirt were the colors of one of the most
famous and exclusive cricket clubs in
the world. and everybody knew that
in his day their wearer had been
mighty figure in the public eye.
"Hi Crowfoot ~ shouted Starkey
above the din and babel. ''Crowfoot,
Crowfoot! Come over here, there's
chap dying to see you ~