Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

78 He nodded slowly. : “Ves,” he agreed, “I will promise.” “And I can talk to Mr. Greiner with you — over the ’phone?”’ His eyes twinkled. . “Ves,” he said, ‘‘and I will promise that there will actually be a ’phone there this time.” She flushed quickly. “Oh, please!” she pleaded in a wounded tone. ‘You must not fling that up at me again until I have had a chance to go over this whole thing with you and make my confessions.” She bade him good-by with a pretty smile, though her eyes were still clouded with the film of worry that she was trying so bravely to fight down. He watched her get into the elevator and then took the stairs to the basement. He sought the telegraph-office i in one cor- ner and found the talkative operator behind the counter. “My mechanician tells me that we owe you something for the use of your motor- cycle,” Ward said. “Oh, well, sir,” the operator said, “‘what- ever you think it was worth. My assistant tells me that Loder returned it while I was out just now.” Ward dfew a bill from his pocketbook. “Will that be enough?” he asked. The operator’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, that’s more than I expected!” he exclaimed. “Thank you very much, Mr. Fenton.” : Ward was about to turn away but the man leaned across the counter in an attitude . Of friendly sociability and said: “Mr. Conway’s gone over to Hackett’s, hasn’t he?” Ward felt his whole body suddenly gal- vanized at the innocent question. The very name of the little station down the railroad, first brought to his knowledge by Carl in a most portentous connection, seemed to be a signal to him to be on his guard now, to feel his way carefully and not allow any hint of his surprise to stem the operator’s natural loquacity. “Oh, no; Mr. Conway is with me,” he answered carelessly. “What made you thing he was at Hackett’s?”’ The operator looked puzzled. “Why,” he replied, “his message from Mr. Greiner was sent to Hackett’s. If he’s with you, he won’t get it.” Adventure Ward snapped his fingers in an excellent imitation of impatience. “Now that is rotten luck!” he exclaimed. “Mr. Conway waited for that message and finally gave it up and came on down to my camp. It came after all, did it?” “Yes, sir; not more than an hour ago. I wish I had copied it now.’ “But, if it was sent to Hackett’s, how did you get hold of it?” “Oh, we hear all the messages that go over this line. If I send a message from here, it is repeated on all the sounders along the line. But nobody bothers to copy it except the man I have called.” “I see,’’ said Ward reflectively. “It is really too bad you did not copy this one. I don’t see how I am going to get word of it to Mr. Conway now, and he was most anx- ious to hear from Mr. Greiner.” “Well, now; let me see.” The operator wrinkled his brows in deep thought. “May- be I can recollect it. It’s against the rules for me to give out a message this way, but, of course, knowing both of you, it will be all right. And you'll get Mr. Conway to go to Hackett’s as soon as he can and have it de- livered to him in the regular way, won’t you?” “Oh, certainly.” Ward was holding him- self in check with the greatest difficulty. “Well, now,” the man continued, ‘‘It was about like this. It began, ‘O. K.’ I remem- ber noticing that particular because it showed that Mr. Conway had sent him a message and I wondered why he had been to an out-of-the-way ‘Place like Hackett’s.” He paused for Ward to answer. It was practically a question and the aviator re- alized at once that this village gossip ex- pected to learn all about the case in re- turn for the information he was giving. “He thought he might be able to pick up a cheap place to build a hunting shack,” he lied glibly. “But: he couldn’t find what he wanted.” : “Well, now,” said the operator, “hunt- ing’s pretty good down there in season. He’d oughtn’t to give up so easy. But about the message. It says, ‘O. K. Start- ing at once’ or ‘leaving immediately’ or something of that sort, and then, ‘Will ar- : rive Hackett’s on last train from South Junction.” That was all. It was signed ‘Greiner.’ -I remember that was the name _you told me when I was down to your camp, Gomicbooks (c@)