Evening star., 1921-10-24
Continued from Yesterdays Star)

cigar uulI u tHe otHcT COTucI VI AAe
month. He expectorated on the floor
Of the taxi-and suddenly frowned
| uneasily. He had had uneasy mo-
ments more than once on his late trip
across the continent. but they were
due, not so much to the fear that any
| thing was wrong with his dope
| sheet" as they were to the element
, of superstition which was inherent
\ in him as a gambler-so far he had
| not had any luck with that hundred
! thousand dollars, in the theft of
which he had been forestalled by
Dave Henderson five years ago. That
| was what was the matter. He was
| leery Of his luck.
He chewed savagely. He had an
attack Of that superstition now-but
at least he knew the panacea to be
employed. At times such as these he
communed and reasoned patiently
with himself He communed with
| Sure, she knows where the money
is! She's the dark horse, and the
| long shot-and I got the tip and the
inside dope. amt L? Sure, she's the
play" he reassured himself. "She
hustled that funeral along something
fierce. And she went tearing around
| like a wet hen raising money. letting
| things go and grabbing at any old
price until she'd got enough to see
her through, and then she suddenly
locks the house up and beats it like
was in some hurry-believe me!
What did she do it for-eh? Well.
I'll tell you, Bookie-on the quiet.
| What Nicolo Capriano knew. she
the bird to let one hundred thousand
dollars get as close to his claws as 1t
did without him taking crack at it.
II you ask me. Nicolo pulled Dave
Henderson's leg for the dope; and If
you ask me- Nicolo was the guy who
to bump Dave Henderson off-same as
] figured to do once-and cop the loot
for himself. Mabbe I'm wrong-but
1 guess I'm not. And I guess the odds
across the country: I guess they
| weren't"'
Bookie lifted fat hand, pushed
back his hat, and scratched rumina-
lively at the hair over his right
temple.
Dave must have had a pal, or he
must have slipped it to some one that
time Badly chased him in the car
1t must have been that-he slipped it
to some one during them davs the
bulls was chasing him, and whoever
it was mabbe has been keeping it for
him here in New York. So she beats
it for New York-what? 1t don't fig
ure out any other way He didn't go
nowhere and get it after he got out
Of prison. I know that. And he got
killed the same night. and he didn't
have it then. Sure. Capriano bumped
him off! Sure. my hunch is good for
the limit! Dave fell for the Lomazzi
talk. and goes and puts his head on
Nicolo's bosom SOS to give the police
| he go-hy. and Nicolo sucks the or
| ange dry and heaves away the pip!
| And then the old geezer cashes in
| himself. and the girl flies the coop.
Mabbe she don't know nothing about
| 't'-Bookie Skarvan stuck his tongue
| IN his cheek and grinned ironically
| 'oh. no. mabbe she don't! And !
guess there amt any family resem-
| hlance between the old man and the
| girl neither-eh?-oh. no. mabbe not"
The taxi stopped abruptly. The
chauffeur reached around and dexter
ouslv opened the door.
Here you are" he announced
| briefly.
| Cookie Skarvan looked out-upon a
very shabby perspective With the
disreputable saloon. designated as
| "O'Shea's," which faced him across
the sidewalk, the neighborhood ap-
peared to consist of nothing but Chi
rants. and the like: while the whole
street. gloomy and ill-lighted. was
strewn with unprepossessing base
ment entrances where one descended
| directly from the sidewalk to the cell
| lar level below.
bag, descended to the sidewalk. paid
and dismissed the chauffeur, and
pushed his way in through the swing
ing doors of the saloon.
II guess amt drinkinR-not
himself. as he surveyed the unkempt
isawdust-strewn floor and dirty fur
nishings. and a group of equally un-
kempt and hard-looking loungers
that lined the near end Of the bar.
himself: "but I guess it's the place.
He made his way to the unoccupied
! end Of the bar. The single barkeeper
| that the place evidently boasted dis
| engaged himself from the group of
! "wot's yours?" he inquired indif-
Bookie skarvan leaned confden-
I'm looking for. a gentleman by
| the name of Smeeks." he said, and
his. left eyelid dropped. "Cunny
The barkeeper's restless black eyes.
! out Of an unamiable and unshaven
Bookie Skarvan's well-to-do appear
ance furtfvely.
| 'It's a new one on mel" he observed
| blandly. Never heard Of him."
| Bookie Skarvan shifted his cigar
butt-with his tongue.
That's too bad." he said-and
| leaned a little further over the bar
| I've come a long way to see him.
| I'm a stranger here. and mabbe I've
got the wrong place. Mabbe I've
| got the wrong name, too "-Bookie
Skarvan's left eyelid twitched again
Unable you'd know him better as
the Scorpion?"
| "Mabbe I would-if I knew him at
ALL" said the barkeeper non-commit-
| tantly WAITS your lay? Fly-cop?"
i you're talking now!" said Eookie
| Skarvan. with a grin. He pulled a
letter from his pocket. and pushed it
| across the bar. you can let the
Scorpion figure out for himself how
| much Of fly-cop I am when he gets
his lamps on that. And it's kind OF
| important! Get me-friend?"
The .barkeeper picked up the plain
sealed 'envelope-and twirled 1t medi-
tatively in his hands for moment.
while his eyes again searched Bookie
Skarvan's face.
"Youse seem to know yer way
about" he admitted finally. as though
not unfavorably impressed by this
later inspection.
Bookie Skarvan showed cigar