The Brookings register. [volume] (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1903-1971, 1920-08-05

folded, slipped from her belt wber
II had been tucked.
''It's the telegram The one O
which they were speaking" Mis-
Donovan's voice whispered dramati
cally as her eyes swept the tiny clu
within their ambit.
At her words Willis was out of th,
booth. AS Miss Donovan watched sh,
saw him pass by the folded evidence
What was wrong? But, no-suddenl,
she saw his handkerchief drop. saw
him an instant later turn and pick 4
up, and with 1t the telegram. Disap
/ pearing In the direction of the mems
room, he returned q moment later
paid the check, and with Miss Donovan
on his arm left the cafe.
Outside, and three blocks away from
Steinway's, they paused under an arc
light, and with shaking hands Willis
showed her the message. There, In the
flickering rays, the girl read its torn
and yet enlightenlng message:
dorado, May 10, 1915.
him safe. Report and collect.
come with roll Monday sure
We seen papers. Remember Haskell.
"NED."
IT'S terribly cryptic, jerry" she said
to the other, "but two things we know
from It."
zone is that La Rue's going to blow
the burg some day-soon."
"The other, that Ned is Ned Bea.
ton, the man mentioned back there I'm
Steinway's. Whatever his connection
Is, we don't know. / think we had
better go to Farriss, don't youY
"A good hunch," Willis replied tax
ing her arm.
In their enthusiasm they upset the
custom Of the office and broke into
Farriss' fullest hour. Into his impa-
tient ears they dlnned the story of
what they had just learned, ending I'D
by passing him the telegram.
For a mere instant he glanced at
them, then his lips began to move.
"BeatOn - Ned - Ned Beaton - Ned
Beaton" he mused, and then sat bolt
upright in his chair while he banged
the desk with a round. hard fist.
You've run across something. l know
that name. l know the man. Ned
Beaton is a gun and he pulled his
first job when | was doing police i'm
Philadelphia for the Record. Well,
well, my children, this is splendid!
And what nextT
But, Mr.. Farriss, where is he?" put
in Stella Donovan. "Where was the
message sent from? Colorado, yes,
but where in Colorado? That's the
thing to find out"
II thought it might be the last word
in the message-Haskell," ventured
Willis.
Farriss, seizing an atlas, thumbed it
until he found Il map of Colorado. To-
gether the three pored over it.
There it Isl" Stella Donovan cried
"Down toward the bottom.
Looks like desert country"
Pretty dry place for Celeste"
laughed Willis. 81 might call her up
ana klu ner ABOUT IL Il
Farriss looked at him sourly. "You
might get raise In salary" he
sharply. "if you'd keep your
mind on the job. What you can do is
call up. say yoa're the detective bu-
reau, and ask carelessly about BeatOn.
rhat'll throw n scare into her. You've
got her number?"
Riverside $685." Willis said in a
Dusinesslke voice.
He disappeared ipto the Gathering
ocal room, to return moment later
white OF face, bright of eye, and with
ips parted.
whats the dope?" Farriss shot at
him.
"Nothing" cried the excited young
man. Nothing except that fifteen
minutes ago Celeste La Rue kissed the
Beecher apartments good-by and, with
trunk, puff and toothbrush. beat it,"
'To Haskell" added the city edi-
tor, tor my hair is pink. And by
heaven, believe there's story there.
What's more, 1 believe we can get It.
It's blind chance, but Wen take it."
LET Mr.. Willis" began Miss Dono-
van.
"Mind your own business, Stella"
commanded Farrlss, "and see that
your hats on straight. Because with /,
In half an hour you're going to draw
on the night cashier for five hundred
dollars and pack your little portman-
teau for Haskell. Work guardedly
query us when you have to; be sure
Of your facts, and consign your soul
to God. Do l see you moving?"
And when Farriss looked again he
did.