Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 28, 1928 — page 106: what you’re looking at

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

536 “ Tsn’t Crawford your man?” she de- manded stormily. “ He is my evil genius,” said Blair. “ But let all that go for the time being,’’ he pleaded. “Help me to find my daughter.” “Crawford knows where she is,” said Molly. Blair gave a start. “Of course! I must be losing my wits.”” He was already hurrying to the telephone. But he was unable to get Crawford on the wire either at the hotel or else- where is Rio Rita. “This is hopeless!” He slammed the receiver down on the hook. “ How can I get to the village? Better that way, anyhow. I'll get the truth from Crawford then, if I have to choke the skunk into telling me.”’ “ll drive you,” offered Molly quickly. “ My roadster is already at the door. And Big Bill will go with me,” she added significantly, “in case there is any man-handling to be done.” Only one bit of conversation passed between her and Blair, as the three of them raced along the road. * What could possibly be Crawford’s idea?” he puzzled, turning to Molly. “ He must have known that he couldn’t keep Gladys a prisoner indefinitely, and that when she got free, she would tell the whole story.” “T think,” said Molly, keeping her eyes steadily on her driving, although her fingers trembled slightly where they rested on the wheel, “ that to car- ry out this elopement story, Norman and Gladys are already being carried off to Mexico. “’Then, if their bodies are found in some out of the way place below the border, it can readily be ascribed to the avork of Mexican bandits.” J. P. sank back with an involuntary groan against the cushions, and after that confined his remarks solely to the one word, “ Faster!—Faster!”’ At the hotel, he sprang from the car almost before it stopped, and with an ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. agility that belied his years, hurried inside. But almost immediately he was out again. Crawford had checked out a short time before, taken his bag, and hastened away, no one knew where. “Take me to the sheriff’s office!” snapped J. P. But the sheriff was gone, too. In fact, the whole courthouse seemed de- serted. The offices usually alight at that hour were empty, and nobody was about. Finally, Big Bill elicited from one of the hangers-on about the place, that the entire crew of county officials had gone over to the Bridger County side of the cafion. They had heard, somehow, of that notice which Norman Rich had ‘pre- pared, and were fleeing before the storm which they expected it to raise. CHAPTER XV. STILL MISSING. VERY road that led out of Rio Rita—in the direction of the bor- der, or elsewhere—was scoured by searchers sent out by Blair. But to no avail. No trace of the missing flivver or of Norman and Gladys was elicited from any source, except for one vague clew furnished by that same bearded settler who had hired his mustang pony to Norman at the scene of the railroad wreck. Going home from Rio Rita after dark that evening on his tricky, little mount, he claimed to have been passed on the trail to Los Chicos Junction by a car of that description. The incident was impressed upon his mind by the fact that his pony had balked squarely across the roadway, compelling the flivver to come to a halt, until he was able to yank the stub- born beast around so as to give a right of way. On account of the darkness, and also Gomichbooks (C@