Argosy, Vol. 111, No. 1 — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

A LETTER OF DISCREDIT. “T see I have made a mistake,” he said. “Tt doesn’t matter much, though, whether you send me up for complicity with Guthrie or Guthrie takes his revenge by sending me up on his false-check charge. However, I’m glad it has come to an issue. I meant to bring it myself some day when I was on my feet again so I could claim some standing in court. But it might as well come now. I’m caught in a hopeless trap, I’m afraid.” There was a momentary expression of pity in the insurance man’s face. “We know all about that charge of forgery that Guthrie is holding over you,” he went on. “I’m sorry for you, Brad- well. Suppose I decide we can get along without you. As a matter of fact, I have no subpena or warrant of arrest for you. Would you like to disappear quietly and have it appear you skipped out before I got here?” Bradwell looked up quickly. For a mo- ment he hesitated while he studied his ques- tioner’s face. But he got no help there’ nor in the face of the judge, to whom he turned. But in the next instant his resolution was formed. “No!” he declared emphatically. “ I'll go back with you and face the music. I’m going to set myself right again as far as I can, if I have to spend ten years in _ prison.” ‘“‘ Good for you!” shouted Yates. “Just what I thought you’d say,” de- clared the judge, slapping him on the back. ‘“Mr. Bradwell,” Yates considered, ‘“ we have been testing you out, and you ring true. You are the key to the unraveling of one of the biggest conspiracies against the marine insurance companies in the history of Great Lakes shipping. You can be of more use to us as one of us than as pris- oner under suspicion, or even as a coerced witness. We wanted to find out first, though, whether you had the right spirit. Consider yourself on our pay-roll till Guth- rie and the rest are where they belong. ‘“‘ Now, as for that forged check, set your mind at rest. One of our detectives has got next to an underling in Guthrie’s office. He tipped us off that you knew something damaging, but that Guthrie had 59 an ax over your head. A little prying un- earthed the printer who made up that fake check.”’ Bradwell sank into a chair, so overcome by sudden relief that he was unable to speak. A year later one of the leading gossips of Eden Village was idly waiting while Dea- con Ward did up a package of sugar. ‘“ Ever hear what became o’ that young crook, Bradwell, you used to have here, deacon?” she asked. “Nope! An’ I don’t care. He better not show up here again. He’ll git tarred an’ feathered.” | ‘I’m kinda sorry for poor Judge Thurs- ton an’ his wife. Reckon they never got over his runnin’ off with their girl. That’s what comes of sendin’ girls to college.” ‘““That’s what comes o’ bein’ soft over good-fer-nothin’ scamps, tramps an’ such. Jail’s where they belong.” “Yes. The judge was too soft, I always said. Funny what become of him an’ Mrs. Thurston. Ain’t heard where they went?” About the same time another gossip, this one a Collinsville character, met old Amos — Warren on the streets of that village. ‘“ Ain’t ever heard anything of what be- come of George Bradwell, hev ye, Amos?” ‘“No! Never expect to. Probably back In prison.” 3 ‘“T don’t expect you'll ever see that ten thousand dollars he took.” ‘It wasn’t ten thousand dollars—it was one thousand dollars! Don’t make it worse ‘nit was! I'll never see it again, of course. That kind don’t ever reform. I know ’em.” And about the same time Judge and Mrs. Thurston were sitting in the sunset on the porch of a little ivy-clad bungalow in a Buffalo suburb. Near them sat Mrs. George Bradwell, a little plumper, but if anything a little prettier than Agnes Thurston, of Eden. All three had their attention glued on a tiny bassinet in which George Brad- well, Jr., lay prone on his back, engaged in the bewitching process of inserting a set of pink toes in a pink mouth. GOMIIGIOO eS (CO