The Ely miner., 1922-09-01
CHAPTER XII.
Two Men in a Locked Room.

Some sixth sense of safety-One that
comes to many men who live in the
outdoors on the untamed frontier
warned Clay that all was not well.
The machine had swung to the right
and was facing from the wind instead
of into it. Clay was not very we'll
acquainted with New York, but he
did know this was not the direction
in which he wanted to go.
Lindsay opened the door and swung
out on the running board. We're 60
in wrong. Stop the carl" he ordered.
The man at the wheel did not turn.
He speeded up.
His fare wasted no time in remon-
strances. A moment, and the chauf-
feur threw on the brake sharply. His
reason was a good one. The blue nose
of a revolver was jammed hard against
his ribs. He had looked round once
to find out what it was prodding him.
That was enough to convince him he
had better stop.
Under the brake the back wheels
skidded and brought up against the
curb. Clay, hanging on by one hand,
was flung hard to the sidewalk. The
cab teetered. regained its equilibri-
um, gathered impetus with snort, and
leaped forward again.
AS the cattleman clambered to his
feet he caught one full view of the
chauffeur'S triumphant, vindictive face.
He had seen it before, at a reception
especially arranged for him by Jer
ry Durand one memorable night. 1t
belonged to the more talkative of the
two gunner he had surprised at the
pretended poker game. He knew, too,
without being told that this man and
slim Jim Collins were one and the
same. The memory of Annie's strick-
en- face carried this conviction home
to- him.
The rain pelted down as he moved
toward the brighter lighted street that
intersected the one where he had been
dropped, The lights Of a saloon caught
his eye at the corner. He went in,
got police headquarters on the wire,
and learned that car answering the
description of the one used by his alb
ductor had been headed into Central
park by officers and that the downtown
exits were being watched.
Presently he picked I'D another taxi.
address Annie had given him or to join
the chase uptown. Reluctantly, he de-
cided TO visit the house.
Clay paid his driver and looked at
the house numbers as he moved up
the street he wanted. Many of the
residences were used to keep dodgers
in. Others were employed for less
reputable purposes.
His overcOat buttOned to his neck,
Clay walked without hesitation up the
steps of the one numbered 243. He
rang the bell and waited. his right
hand in the pocket of his overcoat.
The door opened cautiously a few
inches and a pair of close-set eyes
in a wrinkled face gimleted Clay.
"Whadya want?"
1.-The old man sent me with a mes
sage" answered the Arizonan prompt
ly. Got everything ready for the
girl?"
Say, who the HI are youseT
lone of Sims friends. Listen. we
got the kid-picked her up at drug
store"
Il dom know watcher fairy tales
about"
Clay put his foot against the door
to prevent it from being closed and
drew his hand from the overcoat pock-
ct. In the hand nestled a bIue-nosed
persuader.
Unless the eyes peerfng into the
night were bad barometers of their
owners inner state, he was in a panic
of fear.
Love o. Gawd, d-don't shoot !" he
chattered Il amt nobody bur the
caretaker."
He backed slowly away. followed nv
Lindsay. The barrel of the thirty