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E— <4i BEMIDJI DAILY PIONEER - | o Copyright by William MecLeod Rane __(Continued_from last iasue) “Maybe you'll go up Salt creek,” said Shiny hopefuli;. Afraid the allusion might not be un- derstood, he thoughtfully explained that this was the underworld term for the electric chafr. ‘Clay made no further comment. He found the theme a gruesome one. “Anyhow, I'm glad dey, didn’t put no hoister nor damper-getter wit’ me. I'm partickler who I meet. De whole pro- fesh is geftin’ run down at de heel. I'm dead sick of rats who can't do nathin’ but lift pokes,” concluded the recupant of the lower berth with dis- gust. Though Clay's nerves were of the best he did very little sleeping that night. He was in a grave situation. Even if he had a fair field his plight would be serious enough. But he guessed' that during the long hours of darkness Durand was busy weaving a net of false evidence from which he could scarcely disentangle himself. Unless Bromfield came forward at onée as a witness for him, his case would be hopeless—and Clay suspected that the clubman would prove only a broken reed as a support. The fellow was selfish to the core. He had not, in the telling western phrase, the guts to go through. He would take the line of least resistance. Beatrice was in his thoughts a great deal. What would ske think of him when the news came that he was a murderer, caught by the police in a den of vice where he fhad no business to be? Some deep instinet of hix soul * told him that she would brush through the evidence to the essential truth. She had falled him once. She would never do it again. He felt sure of that. The gray morning broke, and brought with it the steaming smell of prison cooking, the sounds, of the caged un- derworld, the sensejof life all around him dwarfed and ‘warped to twisted moral-purposes. Al\warden came with breakfast—n lukewsdrm, muddy liquid he ‘called coffee and\a stew in which potatoes and bits of) fat beef bobhed like life buoys—and [Clay ate heurtily while his cellmate ffavored him, be- tween gulps, with/ a monologue on ethics, politics, andfthe state of society, as these related especially to Shiny the Shover. Lindsay fwas given to under- stand that the whinle world was “on de spud,” but the big crooks had fixed the laws so that they fcould wear diamonds instead of stripes. Presently a guird climbed the iron statrway with a visitor and led the way aloug the deck owtside the tier of cells where Clay had been put, “He's In sevengy-four, Mr. Durand,” the man said us?l‘n- appronched. “I'll have to beat it. :Come back to the of- fice when you'redready.” The ex-pugllist. had come to glpat over him. Clay knew it at once. “Tiis puplls narrowed. He was Iying on the bed, his supple body stretched at graceful ense. Not by the lift of an eyelid did he recog- nize the presence of his enemy. Durand stood in front of the cell, hands in pockets, the inevitable unlit black cigar in his mouth. On his face was a sneer of malevolent derision. Shiny the Shover hueifed forward, all complaisunce. “Pleased to mect youse, Mr. Durand.” The gang politician’s insolent eyes went up and down him. “I didn’t come to see you." allright, Glad to see youse, any- how,” the counterfeit passer went on obsequiously, “Some day, when you've ot time I'd like to talk wit’ youse about gettin® some fall mone “Nothin® doin’, Shi y you," said Jerry coldly. g0 up the river.” “Youse promised—" Aw, what the h—I's eatin® you?” Shiny's low voice carried n plaintive whine. “If you'd spenk to de judge—" “Korget it.” Durand brushed the plen away with a motion of the hand. it backin® You've got to “It's your cell pal I've come to take a 1ook at—the one who's goin' to the chair.” With one lithe movement Clay swung down to the floor. He sauntered for- ward to the grating, his level gaze on the ward hoss. “Shiny, this fellow's rotten,” he said evenly and impersonally. “He's not only a crook, but he's a crooked crook: He'd throw down his own brother if it paid him.” Durand’s cruel lips laughed. pal's a little worried this wmornin’, Shiny. He ain't slept much. You see the bulls got him right. It's the death chair for him and no lifeboat in sight.” Clay leaned against the bars negii- gently. He spoke with a touch of lazy scorn. “See those scars on his face, Shiny—the one on the cheek hone and the other above the eye. Ask him where he got "em and how?" Jerry cursed. He broke into a storm of threats, anger sweepiug over him in furious gusts, He had come to “Your wake spont of his vietim_and Lindsay make Sp¢ | | lively imaginations, | me. dae The Gang Politician’s Insolent Eyes Went Up and Down Him. “| Didn't Come to See You.” somehow fook the upper hand at once. He had this fellow where. he wanted him at last. Yet the man’s soft voice still carried the note of easy contempt. If the Arizonun was afrald, he gave no lenst sign of it. “You'll sing another tune hefore I'm through with you,” the prize-fighter prophesied suvagely, The westerner turned away and swung back to his upper berch. He knew, what he had before suspected, that Durand was going to “frame” him if he could. That information gained, the man no longer interested him. Sullenly- Jerry. left, . There was no profit in jeering at Lindsay. ‘He was too entirely master of every situation that confronted him. Within the hour Clay was wakened from sleep by another guard with word that he was wanted at the office of the warden. He found waiting him there Beatrice and her father. The girl bloomed in that dingy room like a cuc- tus in the desert. She came toward him with hands ex- tended, in hereyes gifts of friendship and faith. “Oh, Clay ! she cried. “Much obliged, little pardner.” Her volce went to his heart like water to the thirsty roots of prickly pears. A warm glow bes: through his veins, The doubts that had welghed on him dur- ing the night were gone. Beatrice be- leved in him. Al was well with the world. He shook hands “Blamed good of “Why wouldn't we come?” demanded the mining man bluntly, “We're here to do what we can for you..' Little wells of tears brimmed Beatrice's lids, “I've been so wor “Don’t you, Il be alF right” Strangely enough he felt now that it would., Her coming had brought rip- pling sunshine into a drab world. “I won't now. I'm going to get evi- dence for you. Tell us all about it.” “Why, th isn't much to tell that you haven't read in the papers prob- ably, ITe came a-shootin® and was hit by n chair “Was it you that hit him?” “Wouldn't I be justitied?” he asked gently. “But did you?" . For n moment he hesitated, then made up his mind swiftly. “Yes,” he told her grav She winced. How did you come to be there “I just dropped.in.” “Alone?” “Yes."” = He had burned\the bridges behind htm and was lying]glibly. Why bring Rrowfleld into it? * She was going to marry him in a fewtdays. If her flance was man enough toscome forward and tell the truth he wpould do so anyhow. with”™ Whitford. “You couldn't help it. o0 Tt was up to him. Clay was not going | to betray him to Beatrice. “The paper says there was sowme one with you.” “Sho! Reporters sure enough have “Johnnie told nwe you had an engage- ment with Mr, Bromfield.” “Did you ever know Johnuie get any- thing vight?" “And Clarendan says he was with you at Maddock Clay had not been prepared for this cunulative evidence, He gave a low lTaugh of velief. “I'm an awful poor linr. So Bramfield s he was with he?” “Yer He intended'to whit for a lead before showing his hand, “Then you know all elessly. and Watchful. She knew he was con- cealing something of importance. He had meant not to tell her that Brom- field had been with him. Why? To protect the mun to whom she was en- gaged. She jumped to the conclusion that he was still shielding him. “Yes, you're a poor liar, Clay,” she agreed. “You stayed to keep back Col- lins so as to give Clarendon a chance to escape.” “Did 1?” “Can you deny it? Clarendon heard stairs.” “He told you that, did he?” “Yes.” “That ought to help a lot. If I can prove Collins was shootin’ at me I can plead self-defense.” “That’s what it was, of course.” “Yes. But Durand doesn’t mean to let it go at that. He was here to see me this mo'nin’.” ay turned to the mining man, his voice low but incisive. His brain was working clear and fast. “Mr. Whitford, I have a hunch he’s go- ing to destroy the evidence that’s in Jmy favor. "There must be two bullet holes in the partition of the rear room where Collins was Killed. See if you can’t find those bullet holes and thé bullets in the wall behind.” “I'll do that,-Lindsay.” “And hire me a good lawyer. Send him to me. I won't use a smart one whose business is to help crooks es- cape. If he doesn't believe in me, T don’t want him. Tl have him get the na s of all those pulled in the raid and. visit them to see if he can’t find some one who heard the shots or saw shooting. Then there's the gun. It's up to us to Muldoon will do_anything he ean for me. There's a ‘girl lives with his mother. Her name’s Annie Milli- kan. She has ways of finding out things. Better talk it over with her too. We've got to get busy in a hurry.” 5, agreed Whitford. “We'll do T'm sure it's going to he d Beatrice, Tn a glow of ‘We'll give all our time. We'll get evidence to show the truth, And we'll let you know every day what we are doing.” “How about my going bail for you?” usked her father. Clay shook his head. “No chance just vet. Let's make our showing at the coroner’s inquest. I'll do fine and dandy here till then.” He shook hands with them both and was taken back to his cell. But hope was in his heart now. He knew his friends would do their best to get the evidence to free him. It would be a hattle royal between the truth and a lie. CHAPTER XVIII Bromfield Makes an Offer. A youth with a face like ‘a fox sidled up to Durand in the hotel lobby and whispered in his ear. Jerry nod- ded curtly, and the man slipped away as‘furtively as he had come, Presently the ex-prize-fighter got up, sauntered to the street and hailed a tuxi. ‘Twenty minutes later he pald ! “You Rotten Traitor! Get Out of My Room or I'll Call the Police!” the driver, turned a corner and passed into an apartmeat house for bachelors. He took the elevator to the third floor and rang an electric bell at a doar which carried the name “Mr. Claren- don Bromfield.” Trom the man who came to the door M. ¥ ntield’s visitor learned that he wag not well and could receive no callers. “Just mention the Ommnium club, and say I'm here on very important business,” said Jerry with a sour grin. The reference served as a password. Jerry was admitted to meet a host quite unable to control his alarm. At sight of his visitor Bromfield jumped up angrily. As soon ‘a8 his man had gone he broke out in a subdued seream. “You rotten traitor! Get out of my room, or T'll call the police.” .Durand found a comfortable chair, drew_ a case from his pocket and se- lected a cigar. He grinned with evil mirth, “You will, eh? Like h—Il you will. You're hidin® from the cops this blessed minute. I've just found out 1 If where you live.” “You took my money and threw me down. You hired a gunmun to kill m ow, what would I do that for? I hadn't a thing in the world against you, an' I haven't now."” “That d—d ruffian shot at me. He was still shooting when_I struck him SRR the shots as he was running down- Some | with -the ciialr," cried’ Bromfield, his voice, shaking. “He~ didn’t know it was you—mis- took yon for Lindsay in the darkness."” Iy G—d, T didn’t mean to kill him, I had to do something.” ' “You did it all right.” 1 “I told you there wasn't to be any violence, s It was explicitly stated. You promised. . And all the time you were planning murder. Tl tell all T know. By G—d, 1 will.” “Go easy, Mr. Bromfield,” snarled Jerry. “If you do, where do ye think you'll get off at?” T'll go to the police and tell them your hired gunman was shooting at us.” “Will you now? An’ I'll have plenty of good witnesses to swear he wasn't.”” Durand bhared his teeth in a threat. “That’s not all, either. I'll tie you up with the rube from the West and send you up to Sing Sing as accessory. How’d you like that?” “If T tell the truth—" “You'll he convicted of murder in {place of him and he’ll go up as acces- sory. I don’t care two straws how it is. But you'd be a d—a fool. I'll say that for you.” “I'm not going to let an innocent man suffer in my place. It wouldn't be playing the game.” Durand leaned forward and tapped the table with his finger-tips. His voice {rasped like a file. “You can’'t save him. He's goln’ to get it vight, But hurt yourself a h—1 of a lot. {Get out of the country and stay out till it’s all over with, That's the best thing you ean do, Go to the Hawaiian s, man. That's a good healthy ate un® the hotel cooking's a lot hetter than it is at Sing Sing.” “I ean’t do it,” moaned the clubman, “My G—d, man, if it ever came out— that T'd paid money to—to—ruin his reputation, and that T'd run away when T could have saved an innocent man—TI'd be done for. T'd be kicked out, of every club I'm in.” “It won’t ever come out if you're not here. But if you force my hand— well, that's different.” Again Jerry's grin slit his color! face. He had this poor devil where he wanted him, and he was enjoying himself, “What do you want me to do, then?” cried Bromfield, tiny beads of perspiration on his forehead. “You'll do as I say—beat it outa the ‘country till the thing's over with.” ut Lindsay will tal e boob’s padlocked his mouth, For some foo] reason he's protectin’ you. Get out, an’ you're safe.” Bromfield sweated blood as he walked up and down the room looking for a way out of his dilemma. He had come to the parting of the road again. If he did this thing he would be a yel- {low cir. Tt was one thing to destroy Lindsay's influence with Beatrice by giving her a false impression. From his point_of view_ their fri hip W perniclous anyhow and ought to he wiped out. At most the cattleman would have gone back unhurt “to' the Arizona desert he was always talking about. Nobody there . would care about what had happened to him in New York. But to leave him, an inno- cent man, to go to his death because he was too chivalrous to betray his partner In an adventure—this was something that even Bromfield's atro- phied conscience revolted at. Clay was standing by him, according to Du- rand’s story. The news of it lifted a weight from his soul. But it left him, too, under a stronger moral obligation to step out and face the music. The clubman made the only decision he could, and that was to procrasti- nate, to put off making any choice for the present. ¢ “I'll think it over. Glve me a day o make up my mind,” he begged. Jerry shrugged his heavy shoulders, He knew that every hour counted in his favor, would make it more difficult for the tortured man to come forward and tell the truth. “Sure. Look it over upside and down. Don’t hwrry. But, man, what's there to think about? I thought you hated this guy—wanted to get rid of him.” “Not that way. G—d, no! Durand, I'Il give you any sum in reason to let him go without bringing me into it. You can arrange it.” Jerry slammed down a fist heavily on the table. “I can, but I won’t. Not if you was to go fifty-fifty with me to your last cenl. I'm goin’ to get this fellow. See? I'm goin’ to get him good. He'll be crawlin’ on his hunds and Knees to me before I'm through with him.” i “What good will that do you? I'm offering you cold cash just to let the truth get out—that Collins was trying to kill him when he got hit.” “Nothin’ doin’. T've been layin’ for this boob. T've got him now. I'm goin’ to turn the screws on and listen to him holler.” Bromfield’s valet stepped into the room. “Mr, and Miss Whitford to see you, sir." L Annle Millikan vodded her wise lit- tle head. “Jerry's gouna frame him if he can. He's lald the wires for it That's a lead pipe.” “Sure,” agreed Muldoon. “I'll bet he’s been busy all night fixin’ up his stor Some poor divvles he'll bully- rag into swearin’ lies an’ others he'll buy. Trust Jerry for the crooked stuft.” “We've got to tell the truth,” said Beatrice crisply, pulling on her gloves. “And we'll do it, too. A pack of lies can’t stand against four of us all look- ing for the truth.” Muldoen, who was on night duty this month and therefore had his days free, guided Whitford and his daughter to Maddock’s. As they reached the house an express wagon was being driven away. Automatically the 1f- ise number registered itself in Tim's memiory, The policeman took a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. The three went up the stairs to the desert- ed gambling hall and through it to the rear room. * “From what Lindsay says, the bullet holes ought to be about as high as his armpits,” said Whitford. “Slim’” must 'a’ been standin’ ahout here,” guessed Muldoon, illustrating his theory by taking the position he meant. “The bullets would hit the par- tition close to the center, wouldn't they?” Beatrice had gone straight to the plank wall, “They're not here,” she told them. “Must be. According to Lindsay's story the fellow was aiming straight at it.” ' “Well, they're not here. See for your- self.” She was right. There was no evi- dence whatever that any bullets had pussed through. the partition. They covered every inch of the cross wall in their search. “Lindsay must have been mistaken,” decided Whitford, hiding his keen dis- appointment. “This man Collins couldn’t have been firing in this direc- tion. Of course everything was con- fusion. No doubt they shifted round in the dark and—" He stopped, struck by an odd 'ex- | pression on the face of his daughter. Nhe hadt stooped and picked up a small fragment of shaving from the floor. Her eyes went from it to a plank in the partition and then back to the thin crisp of wood. “What is it, honey?” asked Whit- ford. The girl turned to Muldoon, alert in every quivering muscle. “That express wagon—the one leaving the house as we drove up—idid you notice it?” “Number 714,” answered promptly. “Can you have it stopped and the man arrested? Don’t you see? They’ve rebuilt this partition. They were tak- Ing away in that wagon the planks with the bullet holes.” Muldoon was out of the room and going down the stairs before she had finished speaking. It was a quarter of an hour later when he returned. Beatrice and her father were not to be seen, From back of the partition.came an eager, vibrant voice. “Is that yon, Mr. Muldoon? Come here quick. We've found one of the bullets in.the wall.” The policeman passed out of the door through which Bromfield had made his escape and found another siall door opening from the passage. It took him into the cubby-hele of a room in which were the wires and in- struments used to receive news of the races. (Continued in Next Issze) Tim, S ———————————————— Cigarette It's toasted. This one extra process gives a rare and delightful quality’ -—impossible to duplicate. [ Guarantced by ¢ s in Flower Now You are invited to see the Pereial | 1 Flower Gardens of the Beltrami Nursery Baby’s Breath, Coreopsis, Canter- bury Belle, False Indigo, Gaillar- lia, Lark Spur, Peonies, Pinks 10c, Sweet Williams 10c, Shasta Daisy. We are located opposite the Schaol Farm. " We Sell Cut Flowers FYTTTTIVITTTTYITTTITINITIIITITILY i [ It Makfihings Grow Fertilize the lawn. Use commer- cial fertilizer containing a large| per cent ¥ nitrogen. Sheep man-| ure is also good for the vegetab]e! garden. We apply it for you. Beltrami Nursery OTTO BROSE, Prop. a'?hene 363-J. 2004 Irvine Ave.| B i e L L 3ghecribe ror The Daily Floneer. over.” consumer. The alert business man dealing with present day conditions knows that the big word today is ‘“Turn- Whether he be a merchant, manufacturer, jobber, or banker, he sees that one thing with a clear vision unbiased by the limits of his own business. on the tip of every tongue. And yet many of them—entirely too many—are thinking on only one side of Turnover. of it as meaning rapid selling—put- ting money in and getting it out quickly and at a profit. They real- ize that they must put greatly in- creasad efforts back of all their plans for selling and distribution. The other half of Turnover is the It is in the air, and They think All selling plans and efforts fail if the consumer doesn’t want to buy. His desire for the product must be created. He must meet the seller half way. He must be in a mood to buy before the sales- man meets him across the counter. That is the function of Advertis- ing—to create consumer demand DALLY PlONm WANT ADS BRING RESULTS _ <. ‘Two Sides of Turnover and consumer preference. p——— With this deynand as a fact, all selling plans have a chance to succeed.. Without it they fail. The only chance for salesmanship to succeed without an existing demand is for salesmanship to assume the task that belongs to advertising—the task of creating demand. If the present efforts that are be- ing put into selling were amply sup- 'ported by a corresponding effort to create consumer demand through Advertising, the business condi- tions of this country would be rap- idly changed into an prosperity—in spite of Old World conditions and everything else. ‘The proof of this is right now, under these very condi- tions, the manufacturers who are putting proper emphasis on creat- ing a demand for their product, as well as selling it, are doing a big business and are actually getting the high turnover that others are trying so strenuously to get through intensive selling. Published by the Bemidji Ploneer in co-operatien with The American Association of Advertising Agencies. & READ THE PIONEER WANT ADS | era of great the fact that