Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 129: what you’re looking at

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

Hooley’s Hen Hastener here, I'll put something to you. I got to get myself in there unknown to any one and slip one little word into Dippy’s ear. Un- derstand? Nobody but me can do it. See? They’re railroading him, understand? And there’s five millions dollars goin’ to his Cousin Meigs if the Meigs family can get Dippy declared permanently locoed. And his girl, Fraley, absolutely the best ever, is implorin’ me to save him.” “What's the matter with Dippy? Can’t he hatch ’em?” “‘Hush—there’s some big stiff strollin’ this way. I don’t want him to see how astonish- ingly you and me look like each other.” “°T’s'll right. Doc’s off on some real-es- tate deal, the superintendent is playin’ golf, the matron’s at a picture-show and the yard- men are playin’ pinocle while the nuts cut . the grass. Everythin’s lovely.” “Look here, Fraley, can you go up town, slide in the hotel, talk to a couple of guys if they horn in, wear my clothes and not bat an eye over it—just for twenty-four hours to be J. Watts-Wright of New York and Arden farm and—oh, a lot of places?”’ “li they ain’t any chickens in it “Of course not! There’s a couple of plain-clothes men trailin’ me around at a distance, but if they see you at the hotel they’ll be satisfied. And I’ll husk into your clothes and hunt up Dippy McGuire!” Mr. Fraley chuckled. “°T’s all right! And if any attendant or dinin’-room man or doctor or one of the nuts Comes near you, just start in and tell him about Hooley. Yeh’ll have the whole place to yourself, becausefor a month I been tellin’ ’°em about Hooley, but they won’t listen. Now, listen is “Neve’ mind! You told it once. I find Dippy McGuire?” “A swell nut like that’ll be in one of the cottages. If he’s vi’lent he’ll be in the yip- house—main buildin’, east wing. Doc won’t take squealers here unless they got a lot of money. Is Dippy a bad bat?” “He’s not batty at all—just oozled a bit from sideslippin’ feur thousand feet and into a convent tennis-court, that’s where he met her.” “Well, I may be crazy but I ain’t fool enough to tumble into a convent in an air- plane.” “When it comes to bugs,” said young Mr. Watts-Wright impressively, “you aren’t in it with what Dippy was in his soph year. ; How’ll 123 He’s the lad that wrote the ‘Habitat of the Tabby Cat’ for the natural history section. I shouldn’t wonder if he knows Hooley, the hen-expert.” Mr. Fraley regarded him narrowly. “Tf IT thought so I’d help you.” “Take a chance,” said Mr. Watts- Wright placidly. “Tl give you five hun- dred just to take your place in there to- night. On five hundred you could stay at Doc’s three months longer.” -“Maybe then I’d get this hen proposition worked out,’ muttered Mr. Fraley hopefully, “T know you would,” encouraged young Mr. Watts-Wright cheerily. “€ome on now, get behind the bushes and try on my coat. There’s a chap strollin’ this way.” “Doc’s yard-attendants don’t bother a nut much unless he’s got a lot of money,” volunteered Mr. Fraley. ‘You got to be in the building for the night check-up and to supper. Say, your coat fits me fine.” “You'll look like a Kickkenheimer clothes ad with this stuff, Fraley. Now take my stick and stroll into town as if you owned it. Don’t let any chickens fall for you now.” “Hey?” _ “Don’t let any dame pick you up. Easy on the talk. Tell the room-clerk when you get the keys that you guess you’ll turn in. These two private sleuths that the Meigs crowd put‘on to me to see if I’m workin’ in Dippy’s interests will take things easy after they see you’re in your room.’ And presently Mr. Watts-Wright stood forth in Mr. Fraley’s frayed hand-me-down suit, his Scotch cap and worn shoes. He stared at the other. “Honest, you’d pass on Forty-second Street,” he murmured. “Oh, Sporto!” Mr. Fraley languidly snapped open Mr. Watts-Wright’s gold cigaret-case, lighted one and flicked the ash from his sleeve. “That certain air of elegance,” murmured Watts-Wright joyously. “Fraley, old dear, who’s your tailor?” Mr. Fraley bent his thin stick non- chalantly. “Yd git nervous if they had chicken f’r dinner at the hotel,’’ he answered. “Doc says I’m sound as a bean if nobody suggests hens tome. Say, did I ever tell you about Hooley? Listen Young Mr. Watts-Wright had slid over the fence. The burly person up under = trees was bawling loudly: “Allin! All in!” COnnuiclooolK< (C@