All-Story Weekly, March 1, 1919 — page 173: what you’re looking at

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

cheap—too tawdry. That would be the flimsiest sort of melodrama. It would be an author’s last resort to get a publisher’s check. Ah, no. Whatever a young man in the position of Miss Jeffries’s hero would do, he would not fall in love. If he did, Miss Jeffries’s career as a playwright would be at an end. Do we put it to a vote?” “Yes,” replied several. “All who are in favor of eliminating the love element from the situation, during the young man’s imprisonment, will manifest by the usual sign.” It was unanimous. “But,” asked Miss Jeffries nervously, “if the young man in my play wouldn’t put up a fight, and wouldn’t remain pas-. sive until death came to his rescue, and * wouldn’t fall in love with the kidnaper’s daughter, what would the young man do?” “ve an inspiration,” declared Pendle- ton suddenly, slapping his knee. “The first in twenty years,” growled Jordan. “But we must first go into’ executive session as a committee of the whole,” said Pendleton, glancing about at the doors and windows. Jerome Winters emerged from his fra- ternity club in New York late at night and stood on the sidewalk for a moment dis- cussing the shortest way to his hotel. His hat projected over one ear, the second but- tonhole of his overcoat encircled the first button, and the gardenia in his lapel hung dejectedly by a mere shred of its stem. “Some party,” ejaculated Mr. Winters. - He was not what might be called squiffed. He was only comfortable. He had had a pleasant evening with some old friends, whom he had not seen in a long time. As he gazed toward the street, trying to make up his mind whether to walk toward Broadway or toward Fifth Avenue, he saw a large, well-appointed limousine. He walked toward it, having a half notion to ride to his hotel. He had just opened his mouth to ask the driver if the nachine were engaged, when the door of the car burst open and Mr. Winters was-jerked in- side. The door was slammed and the car was soon in motion. WHAT ‘WOULD “THE YOUNG MAN ‘po? , A large gloved hand was placed over Mr. Winters’s mouth, and he was thrust into the back seat between two men. He could vaguely see, on the forward seat, the forms of two others. His arms were quickly bound behind him, and an uncomfortable but efficient gag was tied over his mouth. Something was pressed against his side. It felt uncommonly. like the business end of an automatic pistol, and a gruff voice said: ‘““Make a disturbance and you are a dead man.” ‘That’s right,” said a pudgy man on the forward seat. ‘One word and—” “Shut up Spike,” said the gruff party. Not another word was said as the car ‘hurried up a silent avenue under an ele- vated railroad and out across a great bridge. Jereme could vaguely distinguish the outlines of the structure in the half- light. Then they blindfolded him. ~On and on they rode, the big car gaining speed with every mile. Through suburban settlements they sped, and finally, when Jerome’s senses had begun to return, and he realized that he was being kidnaped, and the stout cord on his arms was begin- ning to grow unbearable, they turned sud- denly in at a large gate and drew up to a substantial cobblestone house. Winters was hustled out of the car and — into the house and was given a seat in a long, low-ceilinged hallway. Then the gruff party removed the blindfold and the gag. The effects of Jerome’s evening were beginning to wear off, and he took in the scene with more or less intelligence. He saw a tall and very heavy man, he of the gruff voice; a short, pudgy, puffy little party whom he _ recognized as ‘Spike ”; a young and beautiful girl, a middle-aged woman of ample proportions, a small, old-fashioned lady; a tall, thin, sinister-looking man with a red bandanna around his neck, and a half dozen others who were in the background. He looked carefully for a friendly face, but found none. Every member of that jolly little party scowled at him. “T’ probably owe you an explanation, Mr. Winfield,” said the large man with the gruff voice.