Life — January 16, 1908 — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SE paeranet OLE = Best Sellers Boiled Down THE BRASS HOLE ‘AITLAND was tired. He had come down through the Je- rome Park Reservoir in his auto and had to go so slow that it got on his nerves. He shuddered when he thought of playing poker all the evening, even when the sandwiches which went with the game were as high as $2,000 a dozen. Going home to his apartment, he filled the Brass Hole full of money and watched it burn just for a little temporary excite- ment, pending the development of the plot. There was no real money, of course; neither was there a Brass Hole. As for Maitland, he was really working at Macy’s for $8 a week, but our story depends upon its improbability and his monumental wealth and nerve. Hence these untruths. Maitland decided to dine with his lawyer. “Where are the family jewels?” asked that person, tensely. “There is a burglar about who looks like you and if” — “They are safe in the ancestral home on Long Island,” replied Maitland, curtly. “Who will care to think of them there?” Afterward, however, he made up his, mind he would make And so he asked a cabby to drive him to the ferry- house. II Midnight on a Long Island ferry-boat. ‘The horror of the situation can better be imagined than described. ‘Through the darkness he descended, the girl in gray sitting in her big machine—alone. “Can this be Evelyn Nesbit?” he quired, calmly. “Not the same.”” Again that night as he entered his estate, vaulting lightly over the iron animals in the way, he saw the same auto standing in front of his door. Aha,” he muttered, “perhaps she thinks this is a gasoline reservoir.” He entered softly. His worst fears were By L. J. V-n-ce confirmed. The girl in gray was working at his safe with an iron toothpick. “Permit me,” he said. “You are the great burglar.” She really thought he was, so Maitland determined not to undeceive her. “And you're another!” he replied. He nodded familiarly to the safe, and it opened at once. “You see,” he smiled, ‘the difference between the professional and amateur. I once took a course in Christian Science. Now I crack safes entirely by mind.” Just then the real burglar, who had walked instead of taking the Long Island Railroad train, and had therefore got there ahead of time, entered. Maitland sprang to his escritoire, where there was concealed a copy of the President's message. “Here!” he said, earnestly, “let me read this aloud to you.” He read until the burglar swooned. Then putting a few rubber bands around him, Maitland plunged after the girl in gray, who had leaped through the window. Il He didn’t get her, because it wasn’t yet time, our contract with the publishers g to make at least 70,000 words. ‘The next morning he was sitting in his apartment, counting over the family jewels, when a man entered. “Tam a detective from headquarters. Why did you not give the alarm last night, and why did you use black rubber bands instead of red, which are so much stronger ?”” “Because”’—— said Maitland. At this the stranger, who was really the burglar with a false face, hit him over the head with the Brass Hole and taking the jewels over his shoulder made his way downstairs, “Who are you?” asked the janitor. “Santa Claus.” IV The girl in gray who had been hovering around Maitland’s apartment looking for certain other papers (sh!) which in- terested her, met him and mistook him for Maitland. “Are you hungry ?” asked the burglar. “As hungry as a débutante,” she muttered, “Come with me to the Primordial.” Suddenly, as he dallied with the claw of a cold lobster, she noticed his hands. “Aha!” she muttered to herself, “not the same. Tricked again.” Vv The girl in gray hurried to the apart- ment. The hall boy nodded to her familiarly as she went up. The janitor bowed. The clevator boy remarked that it looked like snow. She had, indeed, been coming there so often that every- body knew her. Removing the telephone from the hook, she searched the Brass Hole for the missing gold mine. Suddenly there was a noise. Maitland! She plunged fearlessly into the dumb- waiter, and pulled down the curtain. Maitland entered with a man from head- quarters, “Well, sleuth, where is your prisoner ? “Dining with District-Attorney Jerome. They belong to the same club.” “As I thought. I knew he would slip through your fingers.” “You forget that you are the man. ‘That was only my little joke.” “What? And so that is the way he has tricked you.” The detective looked at Maitland closely again. “Can it be I am wrong?” he faltered. “Oh, let me have one more chance. Don't give me away,” and he plunged downward, Maitland raised the dumb-waiter curtain. “Good evening, dearie,” he said. “Don’t be alarmed. There is a cab waiting for you at the door.” Little did he know that the real burglar was sitting in Central Office, listening through the dangling ’phone. Or was it the other way? Was he some- where else and the burglar talking to the girl in gray?, But it really doesn’t matter which way it is. It will all come out in the wash, comicbooks.com