The Argosy, January 1906 — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

BLOCK TOWER SEVEN. “Then he came down here, buried the gun and—escaped! ” Recognizing the incompleteness of this last, he let it go and continued on the line of identification. “ Now, who was this? What do you think? Who knew of the pistol being buried here?” “Don’t! For God’s sake, Markell, think what you’re saying!” gasped Dan, clutching at his arm and almost drop- ping the lamp. “ The poor boy!” Markell took the lamp for safety. “Come up-stairs and let’s talk it over, old man,” he said, leading the way. As they closed the door, Markell’s sharp eye caught the ghmmer of some- thing bright upon the floor. It was a key—the key. Dan picked it up aa locked the door; then he followed Markell up the stair- way. “Dm glad, whoever it was, that he didn’t carry it off with him,” the latter said, referring to the key. Crompton was satisfied to sit down after he reached the upper room of the tower. The exertions of the evening had tried his strength. But the matter under discussion was warranted to make him forget his bodily weakness. God knows, his mind was active enough! “You can’t mean,” he stammered, looking at Markell almost appealingly, “that you believe Billy had anything to do with his uncle’s death?” “ What can we believe?” demanded the white-head, logking lke a preter- naturally grave cherub, perching on the telegraph table, aud swinging his chubby legs. “By heaven! I never thought of it before. That note you got in your dinner-pail made me a bit curious. But this = ee here,” exclaimed Crompton suddenly. “How do you figure the thing out logically? Mr. Pebble de- clared that the old man was killed by somebody who had a grudge against the railroad more particularly than against Raddigan.” “'That’s what he said,” sniffed Mar- kell. “ Doesn’t it stand to reason that it’s 329 so? See how that signal was shifted on the semaphore, tolling the Fly-by-Night into collision with the freight. Re- member ? ” “ Humph! ” “And how could poor Billy have any- thing against the railroad? And think of his killing his own uncle! ” “Who says he did?” snapped Mar- kell, puckering his brows still. more. “ What I say is, he knows the party who did shoot Raddigan. That Ill stick to!” “fis poor mother!” groaned Dan. * Markell, we must keep. this thing close until we’re sure.” _ “T reckon I sha’n’t blurt it around very promiscuously,’ grunted the white-head. “We'll have to tell Pebble.” ““ I—don’t see it.” “Then you must take the responsibil- ity upon your shoulders. You’re boss here,” Markell declared, with a smile which Dan did not observe. *“ Leave it to me,” said Dan, with a sigh. “VU write Mr. Pebble fully. But God knows I don’t wish to see Mrs. Cor- rigan in deeper trouble, nor do I be- lieve Billy is a bad boy.” “* He’s mixed up with those Howards, all right,” declared Markell. “You believe they are the guilty ones?” “Well, what do you believe your- self?” And Crompton couldn’t answer this. He did not know what to think. After going home and getting to bed again, he lay for the rest of the night wide awake, trying to figure the matter out to a logical conelusion and to decide what his own course should be. __ When it came to writing the facts, as he saw them, to Alonzo Pebble, he ecouldn’t do it. He tried half a dozen times, and each time tore the letter up. This was early in the morning. It was mid-forenoon before he learned from Mrs. Corrigan that Billy had dis- appeared. “Shure, Oi don’t: know at all at all phat’s become av him! He’s not been in his bed this night, Mr. Crompton. Was iver a poor widder woman so throubled in this wor-r-ld?” and she wrung her hands despairingly. com chook (ef 0)