Laura Brayton — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

Lt - : r C - Vt ae oe Lee " * a Von : a.) = rd Hs es os ion 6-9) ~ j md es, he ota Ao ~~ a: < » a 4 ae te “We em aX ~ ; $0 ay - _ 2 : my Fh i372: ty tah < ite sce lat , ew pees * AS 4 os ‘ rag wae LAURA BRAYTON. 71 * “Will you undertake the job?” “No; I’m no undertaker—they follow my work. I'll do the job clean up to the handle. Just hand over the flimsey,* and point out the game.” “The man is a sea-captain, past middle age, with a deep, red scar running clear down his right cheek and through his upper lip. My clerk is now track- ing him out, and will tell you in the morning where he stops, and also describe the woman.” “Good! They’re ticketed for a berth in the next world. Have you any choice how Paty are to travel —noisy or quiet?” “JT don’t understand you.” “Maybe not. This you see, makes a noise,” and Joe pulled out a battered, rough-looking, but evi- dently serviceable revolver. Then he exhibited a slung-shot, a keen, long-bladed knife, and a vial of dark liquid, adding, “These ’ere takes ’em off quiet.” “T care not how it is done, so that it is done quickly,” said the lawyer, nervously. “There are ten ten-dollar bills... Let me know where my man, Nathan Sloth, can find you in the morning.” He can’t find me nowhere. Do you think l’m ereen enough to have any second-hand dealings? No, sir-ee! Your man mustn’t know me, nor do I want to know him. I’ll come to you to-morrow morning to hear what you have to tell me. I work safe, I do, if I am only a second-fiddle in a red ovame.” “You are right; it is best to keep our work to our- selves. And now, as you have emptied both bottle and platter, you can leave. I have some writing to do.” * «Flimsey ’—money. ~ Comicbooks co