The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1920-06-03
The City of
Purple Dreams


crimson blots in his eyes; and ever
that smiling, white-and-black face
swan before him like a pirouetting
phantom.
knowing his endurance to be his
strongest. and the others weakest,
point, Fitzhugh desired chiefly to
wear his opponent down until such
time as he could rush in and finish
him.
NilSo1ay was fast becoming exhaust
ed. Ten minutes of this mad pace was
more than he could stand. His breath
came shorter and shorter. At last he
stopped and allowed his arms to
dangle Imply at his sides.
For a little while, coughing and spit
ting blood and catching his breath in
wheezy gasps, he stared drunkenly.
Then, Selling a heavy water pitcher
from beside an overturned chair, he
hurled it, with a vile word. Fitzhugh1
lodged the missile and leapt for his
foe. He put every atom of his vigor-l
Gus young strength into the blow he
landed under Nikolay's jaw, and the
man went down like dubbed OK.
The conqueror walked to corner,
picked UP his coat, and slung it over
his shoulder. He came back to Esther,
crouching against the wall like one
awakening from some horrible dream.
He smiled, but in the neutral light the
smile was CHASTITY.
"I'm sorry you had to see it. I told
you'Pd slaughter him."
The next moment the woman was
sobbing Historically in his arms. 81
can't let you go! / can't can't =
She chung to him as drowning per-
son, clutching his hands, his arms, his
neck.
"You must, Esther He stroSed her
hair tenderly 'The police may be
here at any moment. Get away as
quickly as possible. Never mind about
himz-he'l be ali right presently I'll
write you care of the post office. You
write me, too. Good-by, dear, good-by."
With these words of parting he
turned and left the house.
Fitzhugh entered saloon and laved
his hurts and washed up, afterward
surveying his face very critically in a
mirror. He concluded he was eff
fectually disguised against anybody
who had not seen him during the past
four weeks. He left the saloon and
continued northward.
In State street he stopped before an
alleged restaurant-one of those dis
colored, unwashed places that can be
scented hundred yards off on a warm
day, and where a ssfull neal may be
had for twenty cents-and read this
sign hanging from nail on the door
post:
sDISHWASHER WANTED
He removed the sign, walked inside
and handed ii to the chemical-blonde
cashier perched on a high stool be-
tween a cash register and a pyramid
of toothpicks.
"I'm it. said he, favoring her with
an engaging smile.
1t was a sweltering, filthy place,
reeking with multitudinous odors and
overrun with cockroaches. The soiled
dishes came in a never-ending torrent
and all day, with three respites for
food, he bent at the wash-bench, his
arms immersed to the elbows in black,
sOapy water. at eight came the night
man, and he drew a breath of relief
and dollar on his weekly wage, and
started home. Or, rather, he started
to look for home. He found one for
two dollars week-a depressing
room, little larger than coalbox,
tucked away in the upper regions of
a shoddy lodging house. He paid the
grim-faced landlady half of his scapi-
| tai, bought packet of tobacco and
an evening. newspaper, and went to his,
room.
He disrobed to his underclothing,
and with the newspaper and ciga-
rette, stretched himself on the couch
bed, allowing his feet to rest on a
chair He inhaled a satisfying cloud
of smoke and unfolded the news sheet
and his fingers closed rigidly on the
paper; his heart seemed to stand still.
! What he read at glance stretched
across four columns of the front page
MURDER MYSTERY AMONG REDS!
OLAF NIKOLAY, RUSSIAN MILL
IST, FOUND DEAD IN SOUTH
SIDE BASEMENT!
WOMAN SUSPECT GOMEZ