Under Lock and Key; or, Marion Marlowe's Last Role — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

“What sort of a favor?’ asked Blakely, utiously. “The sort you are accustomed to! 4 oe, you well!’ was the prompt answer. - want you to do a dirty job, and, further, I T will ot _ want you to plan it—I am totally inca- _ pable.” | “I’m not so sure,” Sethe answer, with m3 shrug of the shoulders, “You lawyers q are pretty clevef’ when you are cornered, ~ Carson, but, if your figure is big enough, I'll ; tackle the job. “Let’ s go down to your of- - fice and talk it over.’ An hour later the two were still ating in earnest conversation. Then Steve Blakely rose slowly from his seat by the lawyer’s desk and mouetirenracd the door. “The plan will workall right, trust me for that,” he was saying, in a low tone. cat “yy know the sanitarium and I know one of the doctors. Further, the trick has been played before, and no one was any the 3 wiser. This girl has no relatives who will interfere, you say, so the only one we have to fool is her lover, the doctor.” A “And you'll do it all, Blakely? You'll get the papers and everything?” asked the law- yer, eagerly. “Tl do it, but it may not be ‘ues in a __- minute. It’s a ticklish job, Carson, and it ___ must be done cleverly. I wouldn’t under- - take it if I didn’t need the money.” | “Nor I,” was the answer, in a sepulchral tone; “but, if he marries that girl, I am a beggar, Blakely. There is nothing between me and starvation but my income as execu- tor.” 5 The-old lawyer sighed as the door closed softly. He had done a night’s work that was positively fiendish, but he could not retreat now, for his secret had been shared. _ Steve Blakely, a professional crook, was in possession of it. CHAPTER II. ? THE PLOT. Exactly a week later, at the same hour, _ Richard Carson was again seated in his of- _ fice and was making a pretense of looking Over some musty papers. Suddenly there was a gentle tap upon the ground glass MY QUEEN. * 3 door just behind him, and, with a nervous start, he arose and admitted a man whose appearance and manner were heed mys- terious. “Well? The lawyer uttered the exclamation as he closed and bolted’ the door, but the new- comer did not deign to answer until he had divested himself of a broad-brimmed felt hat, a set of false whiskers and a pair of pale blue eye-glasses. : Then he removed a long, plaid mackin- tosh, shaking some raindrops from it as he did so and throwing it on a chair, sat down upon another and leaned back comfortably. “There! Thank Heaven, I am myself once more!”’-he muttered, under his breath. “That’s the only objection I have to this job, Carson—I hate to feel as if 1 was a dummy for the display of assorted gar- ments.” The lawyer bit his lips at the familiarity of the man, but he was in no positign to be exacting at that moment. “Did you get the papers?” he asked, in a’ low tone. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough; you ought to have them.” “And I was kept waiting, also,’ was the indifferent answer. “I called at the Brookes mansion first, as you directed, and spent fifteen minutes finding out that Mrs. Brookes was still very ill and that her son was in attendance at her bedside. Then | hunted up Peters, the chap that was to do the writing on the papers, an@ a deuce of a time I had finding him, too. It took an hour and a half exactly, to the minute.” “And the girl, Marion Marlowe—what of her?” broke in the lawyer, excitedly. ‘Did you see the nurse? Talk fast, man, I am in a hurry!” Mr. Carson rose as he spoke, and stood beside his companion. He was as pale as death, and his lips twitched constantly. “T’ll tell my news in my own time, Car- son,’ said the fellow, doggedly. ‘‘You’re not paying me so much that you can af- ford to rush me. Just add another fifty and maybe I[’ll talk faster.” Lawyer Carson moved away a step and began pacing the office floor. He did not deign to answer the insolence of the fellow. GOMIGIOO EC <SHGO