The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1931-05-08

Claire expected her to accept an offer
like that? Probably not very serious
ly, but she might have regarded it as
a chance worth taking. Anyhow, it
hadn't been until after Rhoda had de-
clined this offer-giving away her own
suspicion, no doubt, hand over fist
that Claire had remembered the friend
who was waiting for her to telephone
him.
Them" she'd said, though; not
"him." Did that really mean there
were two of them: Max and his uncle,
Forster? Most likely not. Claire's
hatred of old Forster had seemed real
enough. 1t must have been Max she'd
telephOned to, waiting at telephone
somewhere for Claire's instructions.
His attempt yesterday to find the
papers they wanted had been unsuc-
cessful, because he hadn't known what
to look for. So he'd taken her three
hundred dollars instead. Did Claire
know that? she wondered. That might
be worth thinking about later, but she
hadn't time to follow it out now. Max
had tried again today, with bet
ter information, remembering, likely
enough, just where he'd seen the
sealed-up trunk the day before. and
had succeeded without any trouble at
all. 1t had just happened, within the
past hour, thanks to her own plain
imbecility in giving everything away.
hof fho 90
Martin what had happened, even while
she was wishing he were here at her
elbow now telling her what to do.
Well, couldn't she think of anything,
do anything, for herself? Was she
going to sit down and let that pair of
crooks get away with it? They were
probably up at Claire's fiat now gloat-
ing over their booty, grinning about
how easy she'd been.
She wouldn't call the police. She
couldn't do that, with the story of her
fathers disgrace involved in the mat
ter, and they knew it. That's what
they were counting ON. They'd been
too clever for her; not Max, but Claire.
The mere faruous smirk On Max's
beefy handsome face was enough to
tell anybody that there was no intel
ligence behind it. He took Claires
orders, in spite of the rich uncle Mar
tin thought he was afraid of.
Forster! The old man who had
given her and Babe the ride down
town in his limousine that morning.
That hadn't been chance, of course.
He'd been trying to find her and he'd
succeeded somehow. He was playing
hand of his own in this game.
Her body stiffened under the impact
of an idea. Could she use him as an
ally against the other pair? Claire
was afraid of him, too, she thought.
She must be, to hate him like that.
Anyhow, she'd done everything she
could to keep Rhoda from going to
him. She'd warned her in the letter
against answering his advertisement,
and had rubbed the warning in today
at lunch. Well then, why not go to
him now, as quickly as a taxi could
take her to the Worcester hotel? That
was where Martin said he lived. Take
SidlIe . lelleI dlOlS as Ult VI uOcu-
mentary evidence.
She got the letter out of the drawer
of the writing desk, crammed it into
her ulster pocket-slammed the studio
door behind her and darted down the
two long flights of stairs to the street
Worcester hotel" she said to the
taxi driver, who pulled up to the curb
when she signaled him.
1t was quite ride-the better part
of mile, at least-and though she
didn't want to chill with wet blankets
the fine warm resolution that pos
sessed her, she couldn't help doing it.
Forster might not be a desirable ally
even if Claire hated him. He might
be as bad as she said he was. He
might have been her fathers arch
enemy. There wouldn't be much sat
isfaction in spelling Claire's and Maxs
game if doing that involved delivering