Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 12, 1927 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

506 of the Trica Aircraft Corporation which he had just passed over, he might not have thought that everything was so fine. He would have heard the name of Sheldon re- peated, and the gist of the conversation would have surprised him. In the private office of Philip Hatton, president of the Trico Corporation, three men were sitting about a flat topped desk. The dark man at one side of the desk, Hatton himself, might have been called handsome in a sleek, over-barbered way. His jaw was a little too heavy, bespeaking brutality as well as determination, and the eyes were cold, bright, merciless. He smiled frequently as he talked to the men opposite him, and displayed a set of well kept teeth. In fact, this was the principal exposure of the smile. The eyes never warmed up. Philip Hatton, once a rum-runner on a large scale, had never found that warmth paid. His thin face was wolfish as he smiled at the younger man opposite him. “ Well, if Mr. Weimar says yourre all right, that goes,” he said. ‘‘ Have a drink?” He opened a drawer in his desk and drew out a tall bottle. * Tf you don’t mind, Mr. Hatton, I won’t. Bad diet for a pilot.” “ T don’t mind,” returned Hatton, crisply. “ Well, you’re no pilot, Weimar. Here!” He shoved over the bottle, and Weimar, a stoutish, shifty-eyed man, took it with a erin and poured himself a drink. Hatton also helped himself. ‘““ Now,” he said to the younger man as he drew out a pad and pencil, “ give me a history of your experience in the air.” The young man did so. Hatton made swift notes. Once in awhile he raised his coldly luminous eyes and glanced apprais- ingly at the young man. Finally he put down his pencil. “ Your air record’s all right,” he said. “We'll check up everything, of course. Willing to take chances?” The young man smiled. “ I’ve been tak- ing chances all my life,” he replied. “ Other- wise I’d never have picked the air game.” Hatton studied the other’s face again, started as if to say something, then changed his mind. ‘ You know how to do as you’re told?” from us. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “T’ve been in the army.” ‘“How are you on keeping your mouth shut?” was the blunt question. “Tm not very fond of talking.” “Good. Talking never made any one fat. be in touch with you within a week. I have a little conference on with Mr. Weimar, but my car and chauffeur’s out- side, and I’ll have you taken to the station. Don’t take any other job until you hear It may be worth your while to wait.” He stood up, reached over and shook hands, and accompanied the applicant out to the car. He stood in the doorway and waited until the limousine had turned out through the gate. Then he reéntered the office, hugged the radiator for a moment, and turned to Weimar. “I wanted to see that bird off the place,” he said. “ Joe’ll be back with the car soon, and we’ll drop over to Blossom’s new night club. I’m not taking chances with any one until I know him, or have something on him. You think he’s all right? Safe?” ‘Well,’ Weimar replied, “he’s a crackerjack flyer, and I’m sure he can be handled. He’s a daredevil, he’s discon- tented, like so many ex-service men—and he needs dough badly. Fair combination.” “Seems a little mealy-mouthed. We'll go slow with him. And now about that other business. No doubt about it, is there?” he asked. Weimar looked up. “None at all. Corfield wired, in code, of course.” ‘How about the pilot?” ‘“ Don’t worry about him—Black, I think it was. He’s where he’ll never blab. Dead men tell no tales.” “You know it!” said Hatton grimly. He looked at the other meaningly. Weimar had been in the rum-running busi- ness with Hatton. He knew what that glance meant. ‘There were two men in Chicago who would not tell any tales. But they had tobe bumped off, through a hired gangster; otherwise he and Phil Hatton would have been dressed in stripes right now, instead , of in the well-fitting clothes they wore. COMIC OOOKS Well, Carson, Mr. Weimar here will (C@)