The Bismarck tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, N.D.) 1916-current, 1929-06-11
10
IN THE S TOMB

1t was close OH four o'clock. Lucy
l reasoned. had got here about noon,
She had found Jerry and they had
left together at once along the main
road. and by this time were probably
approaching Shinbone Canyon on the
west. Another couple of hours should
see them back in San Felipe.
Instead of following them I would
remain overnight In Torridity and
improve my opportunity by nosing
around Andrews old haunts. Evil
dence of some sort vas in my mind.
but of what nature and how I was
to find it. I hadn't the slightest idea.
If I had known ! wouldn't have
p..nned so casually!
The sun was waning. but the street
was still as hot as a boiler pit and I
looked about for a temporary garage.
The wide open doors of a livery stable
limited of cooler regions beyond and !
drove through them into the building
Stopping the engine. I tackled a pile
of sandwiches and a bag of fruit. Re-
freshed. I went out again.
I had gone some SO yards or SO
when I began to wonder If I were as
completely alone as I had supposed.
The odd feeling grew upon me and !
wished I had brought a revolver.
Stopping in front Of a sort of dance
hall, saloon. and hotel, I concluded
that it was a good place to begin my
Investigations. Most of the name on
the building was o~bliterated. It con-
sisted of three words and the last
word seemed to be place" I also
made out a ~" and L." and a d.
The rest of it suddenly flashed upon
me. Joe Lundy's Place'-that was it.
Joe Lundy's place." I shouted.
Joe Lundy-that woman in black
| the woman Andrew gave the check
| tor
It couldn't be coincidence, of course,
The woman in black Va Of had been
the wife Of a man who had kept this
resort 80 years ago! And Andrew Og-
den had given her a check for 81 200!
But why? And why has the swash-
/ buckling Alex Peterson become the
staid ard respectable Andrew Ogden?
And why had Dillon blackmailed him?
Sick of mystery and bewilderment
/ entered the resort, prepared fol
anything now. It must have been q
pretentious place in its day. A dance
floor occupied the middle Of the build.
ing. At the upper end was a small
stage. Along one side ran a bar. A
stair led to a wide gallery which rar
around the hall. Doors and booths
thanked the gallery.
/ Broken bottles Uttered the sandy
floor: tables and chairs lay in con-
fusion. I thought of the boisterous
mob that cncc had rollicked through
the place. I heard the whirr of the
roulette wheel, the click Of poker
chips, the rattle Of dice, the clink Of
glasses. the shrill glec of the women
the swish of milling bodies. And ]
thought Of Alex Peterson staggering
no, stalking among a playwright crowd
his gold mounted guns on his hips.
In the dining room cheap cutlery
and heavy crockery lay OH the tables
-. Cues stood in their racks and lay
athwart the poolroom tables. In the
card room the roulette wheel waited. ]
spun it. Poker chips =. . cards. Up
stairs In the bedrooms were pillows
and blankets. A flimsy red dress hung
in a closet -. and slippers to match
Names were scraWled on the walls
And SO it had stood for 80 years.
And yet. this wholesale abandon.
ment to the contrary, I hadn't beer
able to rid myself Of the feeling that
I was not as completely alone as ]
seemed. Coming behind the bal
where I had not yet been, I trippcd
over q bundle of soft stuff lying ir
the shadowy passage between the bar
and the wall. and almost went head.
long.
I picked up the bundle and found
myself staring at Jerry's white flan.
nels!