The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1937-05-14


the third round Of highballs he van
ished into the pantry and Cowles' gave
Trafford slight nod.
Trafford took one sip Of his Scotch
and soda, then let his mouth twist IT.
self into a grimace.
my dear Cowles," he said In a loud
and disagreeable voice. do you mind
i make an 81 observation about this
Gowles gave him 2 bulldog look.
Thanks" Trafford replied. "An I
want to say Is that for concentrated
quintessence of whatever any Of us
would rather not put down our Threats,
this Scotch surpasses anything I ever
Judd Cowles acted his part convince
ingly. He drew himself up, set down his
glass on the liquor whee1-table with q
solid little thump and his thick lips
working, faced Trafford in the silence
that had leaped into the room.
MY liquor doesn't suit, eh?" he said,
in that deadlieSt Of all tones which men
commonly reserve for the answering Of
the pettiest affronts. Anything else
Eyes," said Trafford. "You. Every
thing about you. don't like the way
you talk, don't like the way you wear
your hat, don't like that puffy face you
carry around. In word, don't like
you, Cowles, and I've been getting
around all evening to telling you So,
ter" .
The smoker with which Trafford
finished was taunt; the manner OF
his dropping back few steps toward
the window was an invitation to a
supposedly half drunk Cowles to do
anything that might occur to half
drunk and wholly enraged man.
Cowles accepted the invitation. The
others watched as if each of them
had been suddenly shifted from the
real world to a dream world, where
they could see and think but had no
power to move.
little black and:c desk IN one
corner of the living room, open a
drawer, and, with a hand that shook,
bring out an automatic pistol: They
saw him turn, and stand with the
pistols muzzle waving crafty before
him. ~.
voice thickly melodramatic, 1--WE taken
"oh Law the toy aside" Trafford
told him, and scornfully pocketed his
hands. Anybody would think you were
on the stage"
"Everybody1l know where you are
in just another minute, Trafford-,
CoWles' voice deepened and his cheeks
flushed almost !! .,s p%rple-"because where
Trafford flicked a split-second glance
around the room: In what was leiG o.
chased one another through his head
that Magda Deane looked as If another
word or movement by either himself
or CoWles would break her into acClon
of some sort, for better or worse; tnat
Fayle seemed at the swapping polnt
too; but that Allison Taylor was stano l-
ing close to Fayle and Watcning , nun
like a hawk, and so was Mrs: Tayior;
that nothing in the world mattered as
Magda mattered, and the hope that me
lisiocation in her soul might tonaGpL
be iolted into adjustment.
So Trafford spoke the words ana
made the gesture which he and CoWies
had arranged as the signal for tne
little dramas climax. +h,+
"You haven't the nerve TO shooC ttiat
cannon, Cowles," he scoffed, and oe-
liberateiy turned his back on CoWles to
look out of the window over the hgnts
of New York. ,...,.
dramas next movement occurred pre-
cisely as Trafford had hoped and
prayed it might. He heard a ga spec
"Ah-h!" In another second hands were
clutching his shoulders; a feminine
body was pressing closely, shieldingly,
against him from behind; and the per.
fine Magda Deane had worn tonight
was in the air about him.
He heard the girl cry, "Don'tCdon
He had time to think, heart leaplng
with thankfulness: "She's done 1t! Snes
offering her life. The worst OF the
jobs over"
But at that point the little drama
passed out Of the control OF Ira1toro
Trafford felt the girls hands strain
convlllsively to keep their grip on ms
shoulders, then felt them torn away,
dragged from his back. A second or two
must have gone by before he could
adjust his nerves and spin around.
It was Adams Fayle who had
snatched the little drama out OF its
original stage managers hands. Fayle
now, arms around the struggling Mag
das waist and face drawn into mask
of fury, was making his way toward
out of the penthouse living room.
"Got to get out Of here, Magda dar-
ling-you and me-" Fayle grunted.
He reached the door he had been
making for; disengaged one hand TO
tumble for the knob, Tightening the
other arm about the girl.
Judd Cowles was the first to recover
his power Of speech.
"Fayle!" he shouted. mot that door!
There's nothing but a little balcony
out there-just catwalk. You'll fall IL
floors, mani"
Fayle stopped his worrying at the
doorknob, but relaxed his hold on
Magda not at all.
GLOW do I leave this place, them"
he demanded of Cowles. Because I'm
leaving-and so is Magda. Why-why,
you were going to shoot Magda,
maybe!"
"We're going home, Magda," Fayle
crooned; you and I. Home, where you
belong. Where you never should have
left. Go home and get married; that's
what we're going to do. Should have
done it long ago. Ive-we've waited so
long"