The Chesterfield advertiser. [volume] (Chesterfield C.H., S.C.) 1884-1978, 1921-01-06

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''Oh. cut that outl" disgustedIy.
"You want more money. I suppose"
swell, Of course" her voice harden
ing. Naturally I feel that should
share In your good fortune But the
amount want now, and must have
to-night-to-night, John Cavendish-is
not altogether for myself. I've heard
from the West.
MY Godl Has he been locatedY"
Yes, and is safe for the present.
Here. read this telegram. It's not very
clear, but Beaton wants money and
asks me to bring It"
"You? Why does he need your
Lack of nerve, guess he's out Of
his element in that country. II 1t was
the Bowery he'd do this sort Of Job
better. Anyhow, I'm going, and I
want a roll. We can't either Of us
afford to lie down now"
Cavendish half smothered an oath.
SLOW much do you wantr'
"Ten thousand. I'm willing enough
to split fifty-fifty. This Colorado Job
Is getting to be expensive, deary. I
wouldn't dare draw on you through
the banks"
In the back booth Willis muttered:
Cad, things are going great" Then
he bent his ear to sedulous attention
and again he could hear the voice OF
Cavendish.
you've got to tell me what you're
going to do with the money" 1t said.
The La Rue woman's answer could
not be heard; evidently 1t was a whis-
pered one, and therefore of utmost
importance. Came pause clink Of
glasses, and then a few struggling
words filtered over the partition.
But If the man should talkl"
Forget it! Ned Beaton is an oys-
ter. Besides, I've got the screws on
him. Come on, Johnnie boy, don't be
fool. We are in this game and must
play 1t out. 1t has been safe enough
so far, and I know what am doing
now. You've got too much at stake to
maggie over a few thousand, when the
money has come to you as easily as
this has. Do I get the moneyr'
He must have acceded, for his voice
no longer rose to a high pitch. Pres.
emily, when the orchestra began play
Ing again, Miss Donovan and Willis
judged the pair were giving their atten-
tion to the dinner. Finally, after an
hour had passed. Cavendish emerged
from the booth, went to the check
room, and hurrfedly left the cafe.
Waiting only long enough to satisfy
herself that Cavendish was gone
Celeste La Rue herself emerged from
the booth and paused for a moment
beside Its bamboo curtains. Then
turning suddenly, she made her way.
not toward the exit Of the cafe, but to
another small booth near the check.
room, and into this she disappeared
But before she had started this short
Journey. yellow piece Of paper, closely
FOLDED. slipped from her belt where
1t had been tucked.
It's the telegram The one of
Which they were speaking" Miss
Oonovan's voice whispered dramati-
eally as her eyes swept the tiny clue
within their ambit.
At her words Willis was out Of the
booth. AS Miss Donovan watched, she
saw him pass by the folded evidence.
what was wrong? But, no-suddenly
she saw his handkerchief drop, saw
him an instant later turn and pick II
up, and with 1t the telegram. Disap-
pear1ng In the direction of the men's
room, he returned a 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 tho
hickering rays, the girl read Its torn
and yet enlightenIng message:
"loradO, May 10, 1916.
MIN SAFE. Report and collect.
come with roll Monday sure
We seen papers. Remember Haskell.
"NED."
ITS 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 In
Steinway's. Whatever his connection
is, we don't know. think we had
better 60 to Farriss, don't your
"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 dinned the story of
what they had just learned, ending up
~ passing him the telegram.
For mere instant he glanced at
them. then his lips began to move.
"BeatOn - Ned - Ned BeatOn - Ned
Beaton," tie mused, and then sat bolt
upright in his chair, while he banged
the desk with q round. hard fist
you've run across something. Know
that name. I know the man. Ned
Beaton is gun and he pulled his
first job when I was doing police In
Philadelphia for the Record. Well,
well, my children, this is splendid!
A,,I ,I.A