Evening star., 1927-04-18
CHAPTER XI.
Lambert Stone.


"No, I'm not drunk, If that is what
you mean" said Bill, without resent
ment. I'm talking about real po~
liceman. though l admit that there
is something very unreal about him.
I've seen Lowther of the Dispatch
Herald and he's agreed to give me
the job"
Mr.. Pawter leaned back with an air
of patient resignation.
There are such things as con-
tracts" he said gently, such words
as obligations which probably do not
appear in your bright lexicon. You
are perfectly serious?"
Bill nodded.
Then there is nothing more to be
said. 1t is such novel experience to
find you serious about anything that
[ am enjoying an unusual sensation.
| shall miss you, in the same sense
that fiagellant misses whip that
is mislaid. You're a queer. unscru-
pulous lad. and like you for it. You
keep me from being respectable,
Let us skip the badinage and
come to cases." said Bill. You owe
me a months salary"
Mr.. Pawter sighed, took a check
book from his drawer and wrote Ia
boriously.
"Your job is open when you like to
come back to it," he said casually
Though the thought of the way you
handle this business keeps me awake
at night. What is the game, Will
liam-seriously?"
"I'll tell YOU" said Bill, and sat
down.
For q quarter of an hour Mr.. Paw
ter listened to a series of suspicious,
and when his assistant had finished:
Very sensational" he said dis
paragingly. TITS queer how the
merest hint of crime arouses your
imagination, which, in the operations
Of this business, is so conspicuously
dormant. BY the way, did you see
Mr.. Stone?"
Yes. I've got another interview
with him today! I like his majesty
rather much. He's a good. straight,
honest citizen, deficient in only one
respect-he seemed to think there
was something in your advertising
proposition
Naturally" murmured Mr.. Paw
ter. Fix that before you leave us,
William, and for the first time since
you have been working for me l
shall feel that your salary hasn't
been wrung from the firm by conf
uellc6 lIlCh.
Mr.. Stone was not living at a
hotel. He had taken a furnished fiat
in Albemarle street for the season,
and it was there that Bill found him
on the Monday morning. The Amer
lean lumber magnate was tall.
slight man, with the face of one who
lived in the open. His hair was al
most white: the thin face heavily
lined, but there was sparkle of
humor which Bill had noticed was
almost inseparable from the eyes of
those giants of industry who are
sometimes labeled captains" and
more often kings"
His English valet admitted the Wis
itor and took him straight into the
drawing room. which had been con-
verted into. something which was
half office and half lounge.
Come along in, Mr.. Holbrook.
said Stone. You're staying to
lunch"
yes"
Il have invited my brother. but
very much doubt il he'll come" He
laughed softly. You're a newspaper
man, aren't you? Or you were be-
fore you took up advertising" and
when Bill nodded: Il was certain of
that. One can t mistake men OF your
profession. There is something
about them that is characteristic.
English or American. they're all the
same. But you're American"
II have that distinction" said Bill.
Yes, Mr.. Stone. l was q newspaper
man, and, what is more, | am a
newspaper man again. In fact,
you're the last client of Pawter's |
shall see for very long time"
Going back, eh?" The keen-eyed
man nodded. You fellows can never
keep away from ink. / suppose
you're just aching for somebody to
discover a dismembered body in the
river, or maybe you'd prefer some
thing with poison in it?"
He went on abruptly to the business
in hand.
This proposition of Pawter's ap-