The Argosy, Vol. 61, No. 4 — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

JUST FOR SPITE. tured Hicks with a strangely relieved feeling—he was almost glad. He looked over the lawn. The storm had wrecked it dreadfully ; fence-boards and two-by-fours were strewn in con- fusion over both yards. The sixteen- foot poles alone had withstood the storm, and one of those had been split by the lightning-bolt. It was a sad sight, and yet, somehow, Hicks rather enjoyed it. To his great relief, his sense of humor seemed to be returning. He could see things in a different light now; the rain seemed to have washed away a lot of black, gloomy matter that had crept in and clutched his soul. He had known Pierce for a long time. It was a sort of shame that, after such a strong friendship, they should— “ B-gesz! B-see2!” The telephone-bell thoughts. ‘Who on earth can that be at this hour of the morning?” cried his wife. ‘“T’ll see,” answered Hicks, slipping interrupted his into his bath-robe and slopping along in © his bed-slippers toward the phone. “ Hallo!” cried Hicks over the wire. “Hallo! This is Spooner. Pete has confessed!”’ came the eager response from Hicks’s manager. | ‘Pete has confessed! ”’ repeated Hicks ~ blankly. “Ves; the detectives gave him the third degree last night, and he told the story.” “Then the other party hired him to tamper with the ballot-box?” queried Hicks in wonder. ‘Well, no; not exactly.” There was a curious tone in Spooner’s voice. “ You see, Pete confessed that he really went out for a celebration on election night. He went to town first and bought an ax-handle; he needed a new one for the water-works. Well, Pete had his little party and—”’ “Hurry! Hurry!” *cried Hicks, im- patient to get the news. “Well, Pete enjoyed himself, and looked a little too much upon the wine when it was red, or the beer when it was yellow, and, consequently, he came home in a precarious condition, with the ax-handle under his arm. The rest of 647 his story is rather vague. He couldn’t find the key that let him into the engine- room, so he smashed the first window he came to. It happened to be the one in the board-room.”’ ) ‘““T see,” cried Hicks, ‘“‘ and the ballot- box was standing on the table close to the window, and the ax-handle went through the glass part of the ballot-box, knocked it off the table, and made it look as though somebody had been try- ing to tamper with the votes?” ‘“That’s it, exactly. There wasn’t any crime at all. Pete didn’t own up before because he. was afraid of losing his job. He says he can’t remember exactly, but he opened the window and climbed through, got to his own room through the door between the board- room and the engine-room, and went to bed. ‘The next thing he remembers is when the crowd outside awakened him in the morning, and then he found that he had left the ax-handle on the floor near the ballot-box when he had smashed the window.” ‘“T see! cried Hicks. ’ “Want further details?”’ asked the other. ‘ They’ve got his whole story complete, but that’s the gist of it.” ‘What are they going to do with him?” queried Hicks. . They’re going to fire him, ‘and let it go at that. You see, he’s just a blundering old drunkard; he didn’t do it on purpose, and there’s been no at- tempt to monkey with the ballots.” ‘“ Good—fine! See you later,’ cried Hicks, slamming up the receiver. He turned to shout the news to his wife; she was at his side, her face beam- ing. ‘“] heard it all,’ said Bertha Hicks. “It was just Pete. That’s good; and here you people were accusing each other and everything.” “It was all on account of that ax- handle,” cried Hicks. ‘To think that Pete should happen to break open the window with a new ax-handle. It’s too funny!” He skipped back to his bedroom like a child. There he hurried into his clothes. His wife stepped in a few moments later to find her husband all dressed but his collar. Ghboo CO) (©