Evening star., 1923-04-01

Water" gasped the man. Water
His face had turned deathly pale;
his huge form. suddenly risen to its
full height. tottered. drunk his
| enormous hands clutched impotently
! at his throat
| Maynard jumped to the sideboard
and brought him a glass. Guthrie
tried to drink.
Hearts bad" he whispered as his
! prisoner. too surprised to profit by
his sudden advantage, eased him into
chair. Some day-doctor told me
| It's going to quit ticking-like a
busted watch"
| Somehow Maynard found himself
overfiowing With sympathy for his
late enemy. He torn open the mans
collar; flung up. a rickety window.
I'm going for doctor" he heard
| himself saying.
| But before the words had passed
| his lips he realized their futility.
| Guthrie had slumped to the floor, his
arms spread wide, his head cooked at
an impossible angle; and even as
Maynard hesitated, the labored
| breathing ceased.
Guthrie was dead.
Had 1t been possible TO hip Guthrie
Maynard would have helped him, even
| at the cost of his own freedom: of
that he was conscious, with a cur
| ious thrill. He had planned to fight
| the man, to injure him, if need be,
with what consequences might follow.
A higher power had taken the matter
| out of his hands, had struck more
| forcibly than ever he would have
dared. strike.
Flight was out of the question.
They had been seen to enter the
restaurant together. Were he to leave
alone, not ten minutes would eiapse
before the beginning of the pursuit.
Were he to run away, Guthrie's death
would be laid at his door, and no
amount of explanation could save him
from this graver charge. Flight meant
confession - confession of anything
and everything.
But If he remained his position
would be hardly better. His version
of the story might be accepted until
an examination of the dead mans ef-
fects showed him to be an officer of
the law and further investigation dis
justice. He was guilty of one crime;
| the law would hold him capable of
| any other.
THE door opened suddenly. He
u wheeled. 1t was the waiter bring
ing their coffee. On the instant May
nard's resolution was taken.
Send for the police!" he COM
| manded grufiy. and slammed the door
| in the walters face.
He smiled as the footsteps died out
| along the uncarpeted corridor. The
solution. the logical solution. had
came to him as IN a flash of lightning
Five hundred miles from home. Guth-
rie might be as unknown here as
Maynard himself.
| Swiftly he bent over the dead man.
and emptied his pockets. Swiftly he
exchanged their contents with his
own. He sighed with satisfaction as
in a trouser pocket he found the OBJ
ject he most sought. the little gold
| shield which identified the bearer.
Hardly had he finished when the
door burst open.
| Maynard exhibited the shield with
| a composure which he was far from
feeling.
| I'm Guthrie, from Madison" he
explained. II arrested this man ar
hour ago. Hes dropped dead"
The police nodded as calmly as II
prisoners were in the habit of drop.
ping dead every hour.
ARRESTED him here?" he asked.
"Yes." said Maynard. bumped into
him on the street Wasn't looking
for him.. but recognized him. He's
wanted back home"
The officer scanned the dead mans
face curiously. mo spring chicken
is he? Guess he's given the police
enough trouble in his time"
Somehow Maynard felt unable to
| join in the libel.
The police officer turned to him
with interest.
80 you're Guthrie? We've been ex-
pecting you"
Maynard's heart sank. He thought
It best to answer with a noncommit-
| tai, "Yes?"
The officer nodded.
We've got the can safe under lock
and key, waiting for you to come with
the warrant. And I don't mind say
ing" he added emphatically, that
we'll be mighty glad to get rid OF
him. We've had some tough custo-
mers in this little town, but not many
\ to touch this bird"
Maynard pulled out the sheaf OF
papers which he had removed from
the detectives pocket. and leafed
through 1t with elaborate noncha-