The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1931-03-13
who'd been waiting for the call at the

instrument.
"Yes, of course it's Claire" Martin
heard her say. ''Were you expecting
a call from somebody else? Now
listen, Max: you'll have to go and get
it yourself. can tell you how to find
it. Listen. It's in trunk. Every
thing; all the dope. ! don't
know, but you can tell because it's
sealed up. Don't try to open 1t. Bring
it right along. The whole thing.
Bring 1t right up to the fiat and wait
for me If / amt there. I'll see that
you have plenty Of time but you don't
want to waste any. Why, of
course you'll do it. It's easier now
than it would have been yesterday be-
cause you know what to look for. /.
For Pete's sake, don't go yellow now
when I'm putting It right in your
hands. All right. Good-by."
Martin stayed in his booth until he'd
seen her go back into the restaurant.
Then he came out and turned a little
uncertainty to the telephone directory.
Max wasn't in it, he knew, for he'd
tried to look him up. Rhoda had told
him the woman's last name though:
Cleveland, that was it. He'd gathered
from the talk that the pair were living
together. Probably that's where Max
was now.
His thoughts were racing as he
turned the pages Of the directory.
He'd have to be quick, but he mustn't
waste time making any false moves.
He couldn't have misunderstood the
purport of the, woman's message.
Heavens, he'd seen the trunk himself.
That little hat trunk under Rhoda's
bed with the lid gummed down with
strips of paper-to keep the moths
out, he'd thought.
Here the address was-Claire Cleve-
land. That was one Of those streets
out near the Alhambra. That's how
she'd happened to see Rhoda turning
in. Lucky, just now, 1t was so far
out. He could get to Rhoda's fiat be-
fore Max could, provided Max was
starting from out there. And Rhoda's
fiat was the place for him to go. Just
what he'd do when he got there
wanted little thinking about. But he
could decide that in the taxi. He'd
done quite a various lot of more or
less unlawful things since he'd begun
being reporter, but HOUSEKEEPING
hadn't been one of them. It looked
now, though, as IL that was what he
had to do. He couldn't hope to deal
with Lewis except from inside Rhoda's
fiat.
He hoped he had the start of Max.
It might turn out little awkward if
he were digging away at the lock when
Max came up the stairs. And 1t would
be just like him to come armed with
a gun and, If he were desperate
enough, to use it.
Would he be shrewd enough to guess,
the question was, that Martin was as
much lawbreaker in that fiat as he
was? 1t might turn out an ugly sort
of encounter if he did. Was there any
way to avoid 1t? Suppose he stole the
trunk, got away with it before Max ar
rived, and left him to search in vain. No,
that wouldn't do. He couldn't be sure
of getting clean away. He might meet
Max on the stairs. And even If he did
get away he'd have no means of guard
ing or of warning Rhoda. She might
come in and find Max there.
No, he'd have to break in and then
he'd have to trust to luck to being
able to bluff Max out. Max hadn't
liked the job very well, himself. That
had been plain enough from the way
the woman had talked to him. Then,
she'd spoken Of his being yellow as If
It were a phenomenon she was ac-
quainted with.
But why had Max been eager to do
the job yesterday? Martin sat for
ward on his seat and thumped his
knee with his fist. Max had tried it
yesterday, that was why. He'd gone
there in defiance of Claire's orders
looking for "it"-whatever it was. He
hadn't found it and he'd been afraid
to tell Claire. But then it was he who
had found Rhodas money and taken.
It. That was queer thing for a rich
man to do.
His taxi turned the corner of Rhoda's
street and he dismissed his train Of
thought with jerk, though he was
aware he hadn't quite got to the
terminus. A hundred yards up the
long block and, as well as he could
guess, right in front of Rhoda's num-
Der, another taxi was pulled up at the
curb. Had Max got here ahead Of
him after all?
"Pull up here and wait minute"
Martin told his chauffeur. 1t was not,
he was aware, the heroic order to give,
but, being no hero, only thoroughly
pragmatic reporter, he required time
to think.
If Max was already in the, fiat there
was nothing to be gained by following
him. Even unarmed, Max could beat
him to a pulp and would be able to
identify him, besides, as one of Rhoda's
allies. Call policeman? That was
no good, either. Police Intervention
meant story in the papers. And this,
for some reason he could only half
puass was n horror TO RhOda