The Washington times., 1933-08-26
KNAVE'S GIRL = ez ey.
CHAPTER FIFTY.NINE

"BA1Go "AACC1CO al GAAO oSANS
around them as other cars shot
past. People hurried along the
sidewalks. An elevated train
ratified overhead. Clark drove
on and on. At last Patricia
touched his arm.
1--WE can't drive forever"
1--WE won't, my dear. I'm go
ing to take you home with me-"
Home with Clark! At those
exquisite words the horror end
ed. Home with Clark! There
would be refuge there. She was
so tired of struggling, of loneli-
ness, of desperation. And he
had asked to share her burden.
A hot, wet tear rolled down Pat
ricia's cheek and fell upon
Clark'S hand.
1t was minutes before the
man at the wheel spoke. Then
he said:
What happened, Where
have you been-?"
Patricia reused. She had been
leaning against his shoulder,
spent, exhausted. Now she
Strengthened. Someone must
trap Bill MCGEE before, Slip
ping through the dark waters
OF the Sound, he escaped.
Il must go to the police" she
said once more.
Nonsense" he said. That's
nonsense. I know you didn't
kill Julian Haverholt. What
we've got to find out is-who
did?"
Pat Tells Clark
The police, the newspapers,
the whole world believed her
guilty Of murder, but Clark
knew that she was innocent:
MS faith had never wavered.
one of his hands was on the
wheel, the other now held her
hand tightly as if he would
never let it go. And Patricia
toId her story and was silent.
Inc mans face was set and
white. Without warning he alb
ruptly swung his car about. The
neaoIlghts described a glowing
arc, gllttered on the bare, black
branches of the trees that over
hung the boulevard, shone upon
the street again.
Where are you going, Clark?"
He spoke simply and with fl
nality.
I'm going after Bill McGee,"
he said.
The night was bitter cold. The
air had bone-piercing chill.
Patricia shivered as the last
turn came and they swung into
a mean street redolent with the
smell of the wharves. They had
arrived at the gloomy cul-de-sac
from which she had fled an
hour before. All her argument,
all her pleading had been in
vain. Clark had been deter.
mined that he would settle his
quarrel with Bill MCGEE, that
ne and he only would bring the
murderer to justice. This was a
new Clark, a strangely grim, un-
sWervlng man. He brought the
car to silent halt and sprang
to the curb.
You stay here" he said, and
then plunged into the darkness
which concealed the pier where
the rum-boat lay at anchor.
Patricia waited until he dis
appeared. Then she, too, was on
the street, following swiftly in
his wake. The wharf was quite
deserted, wrapped in night, but
there was the sound of his rapid
footsteps to guide her on. Sud-
denly as she turned a corner
she came upon the widening
river. Boatlights cleaned in dis
tance, and in the bitter wind,
black water swirled and washed
against the docks supports. No
boat rode at anchor.
The Lazy Mary was gone.
Clarke turned and saw her
there.
MCGEE has skipped" he
said.
I'm glad, Clark"
Don't be glad yet" the
man was quiet a moment
"The harbor police are next.
There's no way out of it. Are
you willing to take the chance
of recognition? I don't think
it's very likely"
II want to take the chance.
You'll need me. I know the
boat"
Winding along the water
front, dodging in and out of
sleeping streets, their car
brought Clark and Patricia five
minutes later to the green
lights of a police station. The
river was less lonely here. A
dozen freight docks within
stones throw were manned by
night watchmen walking up
and down. Dodging through
the wind, Clark and Patricia
ducked into the station.
A sleepy-eyed lieutenant raised
his eyes as the door Of the
station was opened and then