Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

THE DUKE AND THE DUCATS 17 “T got a note for you,” the stranger in- formed the flyers, and handed it to Daly, who was nearest him. It was brief and to’the point. Mind your own business and don’t interfere with anything while you're in this town. As long as you do that, you'll be all right. Daly handed it to Ivers, his eyes on the messenger. As the man started to go Daly jumped forward. He spun the stranger around, and their faces were very close together. “Who sent that note?” he demanded evenly. “I was told not to tell,” grinned the man impudently. ~ “But you will tell—now.” The roughneck pushed his hair back from his eyes. His gimlet eyes gleamed with sardonic mirth as he repeated mockingly: “No, I won’t tell—now. None of my business. I’m jest a messenger.” Daly’s mind was made up in a split second. What was on the schedule for Verona during the next twenty-four hours he did not know. He did know that he resented, personally and officially, the attitude of Verona toward himself and Tex. And that the more they knew the better they would be off. Again the bearer of the threat turned to go, a mocking grin on his bony face. Daly, tight lipped but self-controlled, spun him around again. “Hey, who do you think—” the man started nastily, but he stopped suddenly. A Colt was pressed against his shoulder, and Daly’s gray eyes were not easy to look into. “You're going to tell what you know right now,” Daly said with an equanimity which was more venomous than rage would have been. ‘“‘You’re going to do it within thirty seconds. If you don’t, ’m going to shoot you right through that shoulder of yours. If you don’t tell then, you’re going to be taken to Laredo, and sweated until you do. You're not going to get out of this room alone. This may be Verona, but we’re not afraid of you or your boss. Now, damn you, think while I count ten!” Daly was utterly sincere, and he left no doubt of what he meant to do. Ivers was as though paralyzed. Tex, standing behind Daly, said nothing. Slowly Daly counted. The man’s cockiness disappeared like magic. He was like a rat in a trap. As the count reached five, very slowly, his eyes remained frozen to Daly’s. At seven his mouth was open, and there was desperation in his eyes. At nine the in- exorable Daly, mouth a thin, cruel line, was snarling the word down into his face. “At ten I shoot,” he said quietly, “and here goes.” “Don’t shoot!” The man’s nerve broke. “It was Jed Conklin and Barny Opper!” he half shouted. “They told me to bring it here.” “Why? Do you know? Talk!” The man looked as though he had started to pet a house cat, and it had turned into a lion. “Jed Conklin!” “What’s he up to?” “T don’t know,” the man said earnestly. “Except that there’s somethin’ up.” “Tomorrow?” demanded Tex. “No, tonight! Does that satisfy you? That’s all I know. Lemme go now, huh? I’d git killed by Barny Opper if he knew I told—” “Go ahead,” Daly told him, and the man left, head down in humiliation. “Couldn’t depend on the truth of what he said, anyhow,” Daly commented easily. “I guess I did the right thing. Mr. Conklin, it appears, had important plans afoot, and our safety is none too sure, Tex. Know him, Mr. Ivers?” “Sure,” Ivers said absently. He got up and began pacing the floor thoughtfully. “He’s Derringer’s only rival, and about half as strong. He wants to run the town too. He hasn’t got a chance. Derringer has stolen his stuff, and fought him tooth and nail to drive him to the wall. Jed, you might say, represents the better Ivers said slowly. comicloooks.com