Evening Star Newspaper, December 4, 1921, Page 72

ATT QUODNER shifted his heavily framed, middle- aged bulk restlessly in hiz chair. ‘There could be mno uestion of the fact that Watt Quoc- was uneasy—uneasy and some- ing more. He had come to the theater not to or to near, but to be alone and to ink, two things he had found he uld thus accomplish with more solid satisfaction than in any other way e knew. This evening he had chosen vaudeville show. There was some- hing about the inconsequence of it I, the music, the kaleldoscopic med- ey of movement and color and light that had always served to isolate him s nothing else could. But tonight, for some reason, the charm was not 'working—tonight of all nights. He growled again under his breath. He saw clearly that he was bound to make some determined move with For Chuck Kellis was out ng at last, out at the end of and-four-month stretch, Watt Quodner himself who had had the pleasure of sending him there. He had been a fool mot to do the Job thoroughly. It would have been Just as easy to frame young Kellis for twenty vears or for life as it had been for that paltry seven. Kellis had deserved it, too. No man could play Watt Quodner for a sucker—not where Watt Quodner’s girl was con- cerned. 5 Quodner's face softened. At that, it had been as n piece of double- crossing as he'd ever known. Just a matter of going into partnership to stick up that Peckskill bank and then the bulls so they'd nail the goods, while Quod- covering the door, let f out and slid softly down the street and away. It had been a cinch. And the laugh of it was that the guy had trusted him. Kellis was a fool! But at that _Watt Quodner scowled. Young Kellis would be with Marie tonight, damn the both of them! And from this minute they’d be laying their plans to get him. He could see them talking together now, he with his cheap curly head and movie-actor face, she with her lying black eyes and her fake 5th avenue manners. Marle hated him; he knew that well enough. As for Kellis himself—no need to draw a diag: 7 e nar gram of how he'd The heavy man's eyes narrowed. It he could only get Kellis bac “Den—put_ the' both of them there While he was about it! Yes, that was the dope—frame him again. Sure! He laughed acridly—but frame him, how ? That's q 2 Thats what he wanted to know. His dull gaze lifted itselt to the Stage. where a girl was dancing what purported to be an oriental dance. His eves followed her. Some- thing about her—he had it—reminded him of Same cast to her eyes, same thin. straight nose, same se, en- eral darkish coloring. ! * ok * % THE dancer whirled Into a pose. bowed breathlessly, once, twice, thrice to the roar of applause, then Stood straight, raised a white hand to her chin—and Watt Quodner blink- ed. Why, she was a blonde, a blue- eyed blonde with a tip-tilted nose and & gay smile! She'd been wearing a mask all the while; a mask with a dark wig. She was dangling it right there in her hand. Funny, he hadn't noticel it was a mask. Well, now, that was a good stunt An attendant ran out, handed the dancer a second mask, different person. A —moment before, she had been a smiling blonde. Now a stage vampire with satur- and deep auburn hair. With sinuous strides she caught the Weave of the music and once more began to dance. she was his chair. his gaze riveted upon the metamorphosis before him. Little by little his e wrinkled into a con- tented smil He watched two more changes of masks, one that converted the dancer into a burlesque of an old man, an- other that changed her into a simper- ing, blushing child. A glance at the program told him only that the dancer was known as Florette, that the act was a “Dance of the Masks,” that the masks themselves had been made by H. G. Trellis. “Emil Schwanz,” he said to himself, “Emil Schwanz is the man 1 want. As the curtain slithered down at the end of the act, he rose and left the theater. He made his way through the dark- ness of side streets to a certain sa- loon on a certain corner under a cer- tain elevated rallway station. He ‘walked jauntily: he was a heavy man, but he had always kept his muscles pliable. He pushed his way into a dimly lit back room. “Where's Schwanz?' he demanded curtly of the smudgy-aproned waiter. “Dunno. Mr. Quodner. He was here.” “1 want to see him, said Quodner. “You, Jake, try his room.” The man gulped his drink and slunk out. Ten minutes later he returned. With him was a pallid, sandy-haired indi- vidual, tall and lanky. He wore a faded flannel shirt, a faded, thread- bare suit. His whole appearance would have been faded but for his eyes. They were the eyes of intelli- gence. “Hello, Quod.” he said. “You want m “Yeh, Emil. 8it down here.” They seated themselves at one of the small. brown table: “Who is H. G. i ner asked “Artist.” now his work?" ure, he does a lot of stuff.” “Know anything about the masks he makes™ “The what?” “Masks—false faces. Not the kind kids wear at Thanksgiving, but real imitation faces. hwanz leaned slightly for- intelligent eyes alight. s an act up at the Castle” Quodner went on. “Girl dances with the things on. Hair and everything with ‘em. Every time she puts a new one on she looks different—not only her face but different all over. Don't understand it “That's easy,” affirmed the other. “Depends on the size and shape of the face. Large face makes a figure look small, small face makes a figure look big. These masks—how do they end down here?” He touched his throat under the chin. “Don’t know,” replied the heavier man “Don't know how they're made or anything. But they're good. Got any decent clothes, Emil?” “One suit.” “Well, go up to the Castle tomorrow afternoon. Get a front seat. Here!" Quodner peeled a twentydollar bill from a roll. “You'll find some of the gang around Braadway that'll know somebody to get you back on the . Pull_any story you like, but keep me dark. absolutely dar! 1 ‘want to know how those masks are made, Emil. And I want to know if you can make one, maybe more than one—to look like somebody." “If another artist can, then T can.” declared Emil Schwans with a touch " of dignity. “Maybe even better.” “Can you make one that looks like living man?’ Quodner's finger was 1) drumming. '3 ‘l‘t 1 see the man, or if I have pho- tographs I could. I would have to see the man for coloring. But first let me see these stage masks. Then I Wil tell you.” * % ¥ * HUCK KELLIS had been gone for Ciwo hours now, and -Marie had . worked herself into a half-panic of lapprehension and fear. Chuck was likely to be hot-headed—she knew that only too well—and as for Watt Quodner, she trusted him as she svould have trusted an adder. If would only_come back and tell JAA% immediate and definite swiftness and 3 which she slipped on with one deft duck of her head. The audience stared, she was a Watt Quodner straightened up in| Watt Quod- | her something—anything! Just to have Chuck back, that was all she asked. For five years now Marie hal run this tiny box of a lingerie shop on 6th avenue; it had kept her busy, and it had made her a living, a re- spectable living, beyond the cavil of even such a cur as Quodnor. She had liked it, had liked the contact it gave | her with a sport of daintiness and dellcacy, but today the racks of rib- bon and the lace-frothed garments made no appeal. She wanted Chuck. At last he opened the door, came in. | Even in that brief moment she ex- perienced her inevitable, delighted thrill at the set of his shoulders, the look of his face. “Well, I've done it,” he announced. “What?" She could breathe only the one syllable. “Seen him, told him to get out. He took her hands in his and kissed her across the counter. “What happened, Chuck? Tell me.” “I shadowed him; braced him on 40th street near the library. He couldn’t pull any dirty work there— million people around.” “Oh, I'm so glad you were sensible!" said the girl. “Gotta be, kid. The bulls are al- ways layin’ for us guys ti have done a stretch. The big, fat stiff! He hasn't changed a bit. “What did you say, Chuck?* “I told him to move, or the town wouldn’t be healthy for him. I told him I'd be decent and give him one week, and after that God help him.” .“What did he say, Chuck?” “Him? He just looked at me and smiled that dirty grin of his and said, Sure!" He's lying, Chuck.” 1 know he's lying, ‘but, lying or not, he's yellow. i said the man, H that guy is. But [ |a crafty bird, He can't get me be- should worry. fikk.«y afraid of me, all right, Marie, but he's | THE SUNDAY mlfe for me—a portrait, Emil, a por- tral 1 be a portrait, Quod. I can do it”” The man! were alight. “All right, two. Now, third, I want a portrajt mask of Marie. Can you do that, Emil?" “Yes—sure. I know Marle."” “The mask of Marie, Emil, is for Ella. Begin to get me? Now for the fourth—that's easy. I want a mask of any good-looking skirt—a blonde, a sporty little Broadway blonde. That will be for Ella, too. Wigs for all four masks, of course. You're an artist. I leave it to you, Emil. TI'll stake you, any amount you need. Got it all clear? “Sure,” said the faded man, a crease of thought between his eyes, “Sure. Idon’t get the idea, maybe—but sure.” “You'll get the idea soon enough. And, by the way, tell Ella to stick around and get a line on Mari what she does, and where she goes, and all that. She’ll need that dope. So will 1" “Sure, Quod.” | { I W “I TELL YOU I SHOT LOW,” HE BURST OUT, cause I'm goin® straight—and T'11 get him some way without bein’ crooked. Think of it, kid—seven years and four months for the first time I'd ever gone off the level in my life, and then T did it because he made me think it was helpin’ you out of a hole! The crook! As if he ever was anything to you." “He certainly never was.” the girl affirmed, a hard glint in her dark eyes. “He wanted to be—he's nlw:'n.yn wanted to be—but he never was “You're ther aid the man, and kissed her again. “When do we get the license, kid? And the ring?" “Just as soon as Quodner's moved {away,” the girl promised. “Then we can get a flat and settle down and forgat all w e been through. {as he's here, Churck, he'd crook it somehow. He ain't let up on me for eight years. 1'm scared of him, Churck, scared of. him.” She shivered. “You won't need to be scared of him long,” declared the man drily. “He'll get out. I've got enough on him now. A guy can dig up a pile of stuff in seven years and, four months. He goes, kid. Come on; forget it.” She jumped, suddenly rigid, at the swing of the door. But it was only & customer. “fThey are made,” said Emil Schwans, his eyes burning strangely in his wash- ed-out face—"they are made with little Strips of paper, built up and bullt up and built up, one on top of the other, and then finished with tempera color Wigs attached. Real halr eyebrows. Eves made of paper and colored—you look through the pupil, which is a hole.” “Hmm!” Whatt Quodner pondered, drumming upon the table. “Sounds [ complicated."” “It is.” “Sounds like a long job.” “It would take some time,” said the artist. “Hmm! Too bad.” The drummin continued, while Quodner’s eyes roam the dingy room. o t an idea, though,” Schwanz vulunlgred. “Save time and do a bet- ter job, provided you didn’t want to use the masks very often.” 'Not very often,” said the other. ‘Il make mine plastic,” the artist explained. “These stage masks ain't. They're stiff; they can't change expres- sion. They must be stiff to last. But if 1 could build mine on the face—on your face or my face, Quod, or anybody’'s face you like—I could do it quicker and better, too. Make ’em practically per- fect—a new face on top of the old one. They would have to be reshap though, every time you put them on; they'd be plastic soft.” ‘Watt Quodner stared at him, his face blank. “That'd be all right,” he finally said. ‘ould you take ’em off quick—crumple & | Sure!" ‘How long,” asked Watt Quodner— “how long, Emil, would it take you to make four of 'em—portrait masks of ople?” ““Well, T should think maybe one day or two to experiment, then two or three days for the job.” Inside a week. «“I should think so, Quod.” The heavy man leaned across the table, his face close to that of the lanky man opposite him. “I can count on you, Emil—absolutely —down to the rocks? “You know that, Quod—after every- You're the only thing you've done.” . “I knew it, Emil. ! guy in the world I can trust, from the bottom. The rest!” He ed out his lips. “But, Emil, there's gotta be a woman in this job, too. How ’bout Ella? “My Ella? She's solld gold, Quod, you know that—but I—I wouldn’t like—" “No danger, Emil. T'll cover Ella. She won't know a thing. Just show herself twice. Are you sure I can count’on Ella, Emil?" The tall, pallid man hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Good. Now listen, Emil. Here's your job. First I want you to make a mask of me—absolute portrait, un- derstand? Make that to fit your face, Emlyl. Understand? “Yes." “All right. Now, second—get this exactly, Emil—I want a mask of Chuck Kellis. That mask 4 want But as long | “Well, go to it, Emil. The sooner you start, the better. I want those masks just as quick as you can do Hragts “I start now, then,” Schwanz an- nounced calmly, and rose to his feet. “I'll drop in and glve you all the dope tomorrow or next day,” said ‘Watt Quodner. After the pale, slim artist had gone the heavier man tilted leisurely back in his chair. “Give me a week, will they?’ he snarled. “The damn fool When Quodner laughed the sound was not always pleasant. * ok ok % R five mortal days now—ever ince Chuck had come back— Marie could not escape the gnawing of that nameless worry which hung to her. ‘Twice on the street she had met Watt Quodner, and Quodner had merely leered and walked past with- out a word. Then, somehow, she had at first sensed and finally known be- yond the shadow of a doubt that she was being followed. That lasted two days. At the end of the second day she spoke of it to Kellis, who came in at dusk to find her at the gas stove shielding her eyes above a pan of frying potatoes. “Chuck.” said Marie at length. “ being shadowed.” 5 “Rot!” he returned. “You're all up in the air, kid. Forget it. Who'd shadow you, and for what?”’ “I don’t know, Chuck,” she pleaded, “but I can feel it just the same.” “Forget it,” he admonished again, 'm and patted her clumsily on the shoul- (& ders He did not tell her, however, that for the past day or two he, too, had been sensing the same thing. No use frightening her. It was Quodner, of course; something up his sley Well, hé knew how to hang the goo on Quodner, all right, and in two days more, if the yellow dog wasn't gone, he was going to the mat with ! what he knew. It flashed abruptly across his mind { that Quodner might try some rough stuff, but he dismissed the thought. The guy wouldn't dare; Watt Quodner t it,” Marie sald, unex “Get out of here. Go west Kellls shook his head. “This is our town,”" he replied. “If We beat it we can never come back. he guy that's got to beat it is Quodner—and he knows it, kid; he knows it. I guess I was a fool to give him a week. But it's only two days more. Then step on the wanted to see you !wll too near the gate of the pen as it was. pectedly. t T starter.” “I wish you'd do it now, Chuck.” of a short skate. I'll give him his chance.” Eggers, the wife of the, corner the girl stepped into the dim little onions for a stew. she announced. Marie's heart jumped. *“Who?" sh ‘My gentleman friend, miss. She bad-—right quick. Wi ‘Marie, the sandy-haired girl, told you?" “What, Sadie? T me—what? l sake—what?" “Let's “No,” said Kellis, “I ain't that kind Mrs. grocer, nodded brightly to Marie as store next evening to buy carrots and “Your friend was looking for you,” 2 e asked. friend—the one that's been around lately?" ‘No, your lady standing in the open doorway. her gray eyes round. “has anybody For God' Sadie stared at her. “Chuck K 1lis,” she said. “‘Oh, Sadie! 1l me. What's the matter with him?" expression flattened into & a sickly smile. “Nothin's the matter with him, I guess, Marie. 1 just thought you it to . 'What arie stood tense. 1 gotta tell {)?' Marfe. I don't to, at that. you know, dearie, e's puttin’ one over on you. He's ot another girl." Mari 's jaw dropped; her dark eyes widened. "'l'hen dfl.ernm:zy ‘::t her mouth. know cle STAR, WASHINGTO:. D. C., DECEMBER 4, HE ALIBI ABSOLUTE “I don’t believe it,” she stated and began taking off her hat. “It's true, Marle. Honest to God. I seen him In the street with her my- self—3d avenue and 40th, not an_ hour ago—and they say he was In Jake's p:nee with her and I don't know where else.” “Well, what of it?" “He—they say, kissed her as he was goin' out of Jake's, Marie—had his arm around her. Everybody seen him. It's all over the lot.” “I don’t believe it,” sald Marie, her face stern. *“What did she look like?" “'Blonde. Not so good-lookin’, dearie, but class. Some short skirt, I'll say, and those new strap slip- pers—' “I know who that is, perfectly | well,” declared Marie, looking straight in front of her. “You ought to know her. That's Chuck's sister.” Then she walked into the Kitohen. “Some nerve!" muttered her room- mate to herself in awe. “Poor kid!" ‘When Chuck Kellis came that even- ing Marie asked him nothing, but all 1921—PART 4. A Thrilling Story From the Pen of Gerald Mygatt with a smile as she proceeded on toward “home.” The door of the taxicab opened as the girl approacned. She turned at the sound. - A man leaned out, shak- ing his fist at her. “Chuck!" she cried, and started toward him Two dosen persons saw him. It was Chuck Kellls, her new gentleman friend—the good-looking one. In the man's hand a pistol waved— a ‘black pistol. The Dpistol spurted flame, once, twice, three times. The girl stood there Staring an instant, then slumped down on her knees. “Oh, Chuck!” she gasped. “Oh, Chuck!” The door of the taxicab slammed, the motor roared, the cab was rock- ing down the street. P Y1 AS IF SOME ONE HAD CHALLENGED HIM. through supper she studied his face. “What's the matter he asked finally, half impatiently. “You're lookin’ so fumny, kid. Anything ‘wrong?” * k x ® l\ ARIE shook her head and tried to smile. All through the movies they went out at half-past eight for the second show—she wondered when he would tell her. He would have to tell her; it had all been so public. But the evéning dragged through with never a word out of him. A panic of helpless irresolution swept through her. She wanted to cry, to laugh, to scream. She let him kiss her good- night in the vestibule, and again he asked what was wrong with her. “If you don't know,” she said, “then 1 don't.” Kellis was tired out. He had spent the afternoon on his feet, getting a line on a job where a prison record would not trip him up. All evening he had been moodily turning over the unpleasant steps that must be taken next day in his handling of Quodner. His reply, in consequence, was mas- culine rather than indulgent. “How should I know?" he asked al- most curtly. “Forget it, kid. Here— good night.” And he kissed her again. Upstairs Marle did not even undress. There was a funny comfort in look- ing out of the window, and little by little the city became very quiet. Meantime in the dingy back room of a certain saloon a heavy, thick-fea- tured man sat slouched in a chair, fumbling now and then for a familiar push button. On his face was pagted ort of smile. “Ella’s an actre: he told himself for the twentieth time, “she’s an ac- tress, all t. And Emil—he's a gen- ius, that boy. Every time I looked in was seein’ Kellis himself. Some job!" He yawned. “Got away with it cold, too. And belleve me,” he sat up in- voluntarily, “I can get away with i again. Just once! but once is enough.” “Go after him!" somebody velled. There was no vehicle in the street except a pushcart. * * * ATT QUODNER took off his col- lar and wiped his face, while Mrs. Swartz, small and birdlike, set a large mug of brown coffee upon the table before him. A queer expression seemed to chill her eyes, but her fea- tures gave no sign of it “Remember,” said the man, “if any- thing breaks, you and Emil are ac- cessorfes.” “Nothing breaks,” sald the woman. “I tell_you I shot low,” he burst out, as if some one had challenged him. “I shot at her legs. I shot low. You understand that?” “Ja, sure.” “He'll_get twenty years, anyway— maybe life. Twenty vears is as good as life” The man laughed unstead- ily. “Emil ought to be here pretty soon.” he added. “Have another cup of coftee,” sald the woman. He nodded, dully; when she brought it he drank it in gulps. A key clicked in the lock, the door opened and Schwanz came in, an over- coat across his arm. “She's dead,” he announced. Presently the woman tiptoed from the room. “Emil? “Yes, Quod.” “Everything all right, Emil? Noth- ing slipped?” ‘Nothing, Quod.” The faded, lanky man had not moved. “Pretty tough for Ella,” sald Watt Quodner, jerking his head toward the Kitchen. “Yeh. She dldn't know it was go- ing to be that. I didn't know it, either, Quod.” The "heavy man leaned forward in his chair, his jaw thrust forward. “You know it now,” he snarled. “Dn a mirror I couldn't get over feelin’ I|You think I could have them two |a dozen times the whole plan and exe- around this burg? I done the onl. thing I could. And listen! You lnz Elllrboth know what's healthy, don't you?” “Good God, Quod! Don’t you think i}l. plu!edl: :l- ftncc changed, Khos kr:nw that now? Ella, too. You smile was wiped out. on’'t need to worry. 1f th = " The foola!” he jecred. “The fooll!"ldrl\'er z CE There are certain parts of New| “Gus? He'ssafeas etao snidhr 7 York—to find them one needs merely to start from 5th avenue and walk far enough east or far enough west— where each long, shadowy, window- faced block is as much a community in_itself, as much a self-contained, self-sustaining village, as any town anywhere. In these lusterless long blocks people are hbors. And neighbors talk. More than that— they know things. It was with some surprise, there- fore, that the next afternoon a cer- tain city block took note of two per- sons who were walking slowly up the street. Daylight was almost one, but the store windows were rilliant,” and there were the dusty street lamps. The block was crowded with women and children. Not ev- orsbofly stared, of course, but a few did, and those few were enough. Marie and Watt Quodner walking arm and arm—Watt Quodner, the big bully whom Marie had told every- body she hated and feared and de- spised! Watt Quodner and Marie! Tongues bussed. Something was up, all right. Her new feller, the good-looking one—hadn’t he been seen yesterday ‘with another Jane? And now here was Marie showing he him someth on her own h had “nolve,” that girl. She w: going to let herself be walked on by anybody. ~Too bad, though! That uodner, he was a mutt, and Marle, she was a nice girl. Too bad! Well— you never could tell. ‘The couple hesitated momentarily at the stoop of Marie's flat, then sauntered on, talking earnestly. At the next corner they got into a taxi and drove off. At 6:20 a taxicab slid along the curb and stopped midway between Mrs. Eggers’ grocery and the stoop of Marie's flat. Nobody paid any at- tention to it: taxicabs’came and went. Nobedy noticed, therefore, that its curtains were drawn; that the chauf- jotor runni ing. turned into hersel? the street. was alone. A dozen persons saw her and marveled that she looked as if nothing had hap- She’ nodded to Mrs. Egge® “Gus? He's safe as mud. He don" even know who it was, anyhow. aini: drove Kellis—that's all he knows." 'l::\'\"lgesc'érgln’ sat down. n you leave 4 “r:’fl Quodner demanded. Ty ‘Twenty minutes ago.” “lz:‘; 'l:':'!:l},' Deo’ln'" saw you?" er.. The hall b cal me Mr. Quodner. I was lefll‘l,yln Ylgl.ldr place from half-past five till after seven. 1 wore your overcoat out to :t;]l;kclrl“l'lnerl. dl-lera ‘tis.” He indicated Deside m:"e garment on the floor “Where'd you take off the mask?" “Areaway, East arAreaway, East 30th. Dark. Nobody “Where is it?" G . 1 wish you had a coal stove— we'd burn it. Eila’ iob sne dia, Emi (°> Damn so0d :gor atl lIL" ouldnt you get down to the fur- nace, Emil? We could burn 'em l‘il there. Sooner the better.” “What did u do with your: Quod? the artist asked. *] Jhum ol e ‘Better burn “Had to get rid of it quick, Em Rolled the hair and the mask up 1o separate little packages—had = the ;l:lwolgl er all ready—stuck 'em down street. ‘Then I came back on the “L" and walked here 80's to be seen just about fifteen minutes after you'd left my place. It all checks up perfect, Emil. There ain’t & hole in it any- where. I got an absolute alibi and a hundred people know it. As for K lis, he was uptown on th: phone call. . He'll be pinched the minute he's | at the wall paper, except fo! flashed, and no matter if he h alibl or not, nobody’ll believe it. Some Job, I'll say, Emil—some job!" “I wish——" The faded man left his wl-Al unex “Aw, ressed. hell!. Forget it" said Watt Quodner. “Let's eat" *xxx IH ‘s metropolitan c¢ity a murder: ia, up in ! gist who let hi erent ash cans on West 68th | rit Kellls and the next day made room | for other mews. The motive behind the crime was all loo obvious. The murderer was known and under ar- | rest. What more to it could there possibly be? At the end of the third day Watt Quodner was breathing easily. Kellis had raged, fought, babbled incohe- fently—but who would believe Keilis? There was no question as to the mur- derer’s identity. The case was clear. | Sitting in the back room of the sa- { 1oon o intimate to him Quodner fum- | bled for the familiar push button with | a smile of heavy content. “Thought they'd get me, did they? he exulted for the hundredth time. “The damn fools!” He was there on the evening of the fourth day when his eyes lifted to find the tall, lean frame of Emil Schwanz standing quietly in the door- way. The artist raised his brows sig- nificantly and disappeared. After a moment or two Watt Quodner stood up, yawned and strolled out. Schwanz as waiting for him on the sidewalk. “I got a tip today,” muttered the artist. “I thought you'd better know, Quod.” You know Andrews? Used (o be & cop. Lives downtairs from me. He slipped it to me that they are working on something, on the quiet. That is all he knew.” “Bunk!" said Quodner between his teeth. “They got nothin'. They can’t beat that alibi.” Schwanz shrugged, They walked along silently to the end of the block, turned, retraced their steps, still silent. “Hmm!" "sajd Watt Quodner at length. think, Emil—I think I'll take a little business trip. 1 don't mind being one jump ahead in case elieve in playing safe. Emil. It Ays. “Won't that look like you were— you know?" “I ain't supposed to know they're working, Emil. I been around four; days. That looks all right. I guess Tl Sust take a little trip.” eh?” “Listen, Emil. I'm buyin’ a ticket tomorrow morning for Atlantic City. I'll pack a trunk and have the hall ®oy check it from my place. All out in "the open, y'understand. I'll go to the station, get on the train — then listen: T'll get off at Manhattan Transfer and double back. I got a room in a boarding house up in the Bronx—Simpson street—where they know me as Albert J. Roths. You come up tomorrow night—every night till the coast is clear. I'll give you the number and the 'phone.” “All right, Quod.” The heavy man peered keenly at the artist. “I can depend on you, Emil?> “You can, Quod, and on Ella, too. Whatever we are, we stick by you I'm sorry this was that kind of a job—I gotta say that, Quod—but no matter, nobody learns a thing from | Ella and me. Besides, what have they | got on us?” “Not thing,” Watt Quodner af- firmed. “Tomorrow night then, Emil.”" He mentioned a telephone number can't T, and a street address. “Albert J. Roths — remember. I'm supposed to be a traveling man—theatrical. Well. s'long. 1 ain't duckin’, y'understand, Emil; just playin’ safe, that's all.” “Sure, Quod, that's right.” * * ¥ % ALL next day Watt Quodner smiled wryly at his conservatism. It might perhaps be the part of wisdom, but as for its being necessary—ab- surd! An alibi such as the one he'd framed was too much for any bunch of bulls in the world. Some alibi, he'd say! It wouldn't be long now be- tore Kellls would come up for trial and sentence —and after that! He pulled a flask from his pocket. tilted it to his lips and wished himself amppy days. Emil Schwanz came that night. He found Watt Quodner lounging in a rocker at one end of a long. high, dimly-lighted, old-fashioned, second- story parlor room—now converted into a bedroom—chewing a fat cigar, thumbing the pages of a magazine. “Hellow, Emil” Quodner greeted him. “Glad to see you. This Is fine— just like a vacation. I ain’t had such a good rest in months. Cigar?” The artist removed his overcoat, 1aid his hat on it “You were wise, Quod,” he sald. ‘The other came erect. “Whadda y'mean, Emil? “They suspect nobody, Quod. but they've found the mask. Andrews told me.” “What mask?’ “A kid from 11th avenue. The kid was picking_the garbage pails on West 68th. He found it and put it on, and a plain clothes man happened to see it and thought it looked funny and copped it on a chance. Of course,. it didn't look like anybody after it had been all crumpled up, but they took it I to_headquarters. “Well, what of it?" was irritable. “Should have burned it, Quod.” “Damn it, T had to get rid of it. 1 mushed it all up. It wouldn't look 1lis.” Quodner’s tone get an idea, maybe.” id they?’ ‘Andrews didn't say, Quod. Said it had them guessing. bet .it has. Course, they have no reason to con- nect it with this case—he said that. But at that it would be a good idea to keep under cover.” ell, Emil! They can't get any- out of that. Did they find the “Rot. Let 'em sweat. They can't beat my alibi, Emil. There ain't a hole in it. What is a hunk of mush| like that mask got to do with me, I'd like to know " “Youre safe, Quod. Just the same—" “I'll lay low, Emil. You better not come here, 1 guess. Call me up every night ‘bout this time—from different places. If anything breaks, lemme know right off. ‘Watt Quodner that night rehearsed | cution of his crime, examining it mi- croscopically for the slightest flaw. He could find none. As Chuck and that imaginary blonde he and Ella had allowed themselves to be seen on the street; no hole fn that. As him- self and Marle, he and Ella had got away with it perfectly; no trouble there. Emil had furnished an abso- lute alibi for him by being seen and spoken to at the actual time of the deed, miles away. Numerous persons had recognized the artist as Watt Quodner, had even testified to it— persons the police knew could not be' interested. As for the shooting itself, the whole block had recognized him as Chuck Kellis; even Marie had called out o'clock, ten-thirty, eleven, twelve. It was unfeir; that's what it was— unfair. Emil—Emil couldn’t have zone back on him? Could he? No—Emil wouldn’t—he could count on Emil. But what then—what— Watt Quodner lay do without undressing; then he lurched up again. Hell! Where was that whisky? He was on his feet, listening—it came again—a Soft knock on his door. “Come in.”” he called huskily, know- ing that in any case it would be use- less to say anything else. The knob turned quietly. The door opened upon the half-dark hall. Emil Schwanz stepped room. “My God, Emil"” Quodner croaked, “you gave me a scare for fair! What's wrong? Are they on? They don't know I did it, Emil? Speak up, man. 1 was afraid they'd got you, boy— that they'd made you squeal on me. Let's beat it, Emil, before they trace that mask. God! Emil Schwanz was holding a re- volver in Watt Quodner's f “The Best P into the O the Editor: Well the golf sea- son is over as far as I am con- serned as T am not one of these here red blooded he-men that revels in the great out doors with the wind blowing a mile a minute through your whiskers so anyway 1 am through till riext spring unlest some sucker in- vites me to their country home in Flor- to me that maybe some of my friends would like to hear a kind of a resume of my 1921 golf which I don't claim to of broke no course records but it would make your eyes pop out to look over the list of who I have played with and prac- tically all of them a celebrity of some kind and vet I am just as common and democratic as if they was so much Well I was going to write down a list I COME WITHIN A COUPLE OF INC| of the famous players that was either my oppt. or partner during the season but it looks to me like we would save time by naming those that wasn't, namely Lloyd-George, Ambassador Har- vey and Fugene V. Debs. I can’t think of nobody else in the Who's Who book who I didn’t either play golf with them or it was their own fault as I could al- ways be reached by phone. - all the games I played they's a few that stands out in memory and political standpoint was the time I and Grantland Rice played vs. President Harding and Secretary Fletcher and we would of beat them a whole lot worse if 1 had missed the train, but neither that game or my match with Geo. Carpen- tier which was plaved entirely in French will live as long in memory’s took part in with luminaries of the world of art and letters to sdy about the realms of the drama like for ingt. my famous match with Miss Flor- ence Moore the comical actress and a member of my home club. This match come off at Great Neck in the early part of last month and they wasn’t a soul knowed it was coming oft 5 minutes before it begin, but by the time we got to the 5th hole we was followed by a gallery of men and wom- en of all sexes that cheered themselfs hoarse hollering fore. This match was sprang on me as a big surprise as 1 s in the caddy house trying to borrow a midiron as 1 had broke mine scolding one of the kiddies and anyway Miss Moore come in to borrow a ball at the same time and she asked me would I play with another lady and she, and I says, “Yes,” and away we went and I win the 1st hole with a birdie 8 but after that I kind of held back as it was all in funs Well they ain’t to give the full Chuck's name. Quodner grinned, sar- donically. Gus, who had driven the cab and who had reason enough, any- way, to keep his trap closed, was safely in Omaha, with 500 bucks in his, pocket. The gun itself was down a sewer. 'There wasn't a loose string. nd yet—— uodner rolled over, restless- ly.“'l.-ll; aqhudflered. blinked, got up and took a drink from a bottle that he pulled from under some shirts in his suit case. Shucks! He was getting chilaish. He took a second drink, laughed. After a while he fell asleep. 'ER R EXT day he finished his bottle; N had to go out and prowl for another, ultimately finding a drug- im have a pint. Emil's telephone call that evening—a hur- od word that everything was all right—tound him slumped down in his rocker, staring fixedly at the flowered wall paper. He slept that for he had dulled himself with ::::}:Bl.o:ul the next morning he was shakin All d';y he sat in the room staring r bolted i the fiyspecked dining room rdn:v.l-l!‘lnlrlv—brlc !I’ himself occas- sionally with a nip from the fast-dis- apnenrrnl pint, It was so lonely here, S0 shut in, so isolated. Why didn't Emil call up? He jerked out his watch, tmpat ently. Only five o'clock. Eight o'clock came at lash, el 2‘, e 3 = nln:.."hn Quodner strode up and not remembered long. For one day|gown the room, turned savagely, his the papers blasoned the act of young | fingers me: hing behind him. Ten space details of the match but sufficient to say that Miss Moore and' the other lady broke double figures twice and when we come to the 9th role Miss Moore and I was up but the other lady squared the match by sinking a long putt for a 15 and_they wasn't no extra hole played as Miss Moore's show starts at §:30 P. M. The 9th hole is about 106 yds. and it use to be straight up a hill and you had to play it with a nibiick, but us 3 fixed it so as you wouldn't hardly know they had been a hill. One of the most exciting holes on the round was the fifth where Miss Moore got on the green for a wile with her seventh and laid her first putt 90 yards from the cup and then got back on the green with a driving iron and laid about half a foot from the cup and her next putt hit the pin and broke ft in two. On the seventh he sunk her putt for a twenty which nown as a double-t e. The ladies’ total for the round was 116 and 120 y and would of been even lower on a clear day but eight of the nine holes was Ph{ed.ln'l divot storm. I PLAYED a couple of times with Irving Cobb and one time the two of us was in a tournament to- gether and finished a tie for the low net prize and they divided the first two prizes between us and they give Irving first cholce, one of the prizes was a silver s0 I got a driver that was made for Mrs. Tom Thumb but I suppose a man should ought to be satisfied that can tie any- body's score that takes one-third off. | Besides which Irving is a roving ~d and he points his ball like a ida R.R. fare inclusive, but, it occurs | PESIDENT OF THE U ————————————— —_——————— of course the most important from a | walls as some of the contests which I | ¥ nothing | “Put 'em up,” he commanded In a hard, strange voice. Wutt Quodner's jaw sagged. He lifted his hands. “Emil!” he managed to whispes. me in, Ryan,” said the sa strange voice. A second man stepped swiftly into room. As Quodner took his first back- ward stride his wrists were caught, twisted, linked—with & chain. “No gun on him,” said the second man_cooly. Whereupon the first man rafsed a hand to his chin and jerked off a |portant mask of Emil Schwarnz. He laughed and his eyes were icy cold. “How about it, Quodner?” he mocked. “You're sure an art expert. Think H. G. Trellis can do as .m‘éa a job as your friend Schwarnz?" He held out the mask. “Nice plece of work—hey? Fool its own father, wouldn’t it?" “Who-who are you?" Watt Quod ner gasped. “Andrews, Central Office. Pur ni= hat on him, Ryan, and let's go. Copyright. All rights reserved. art of My Golf Is My Opponents” SAYS RING W. LARDNER. i hunting dog and the minute he hits it he is right after it and if it's vour {turn to shoot next you have got tr |shoot over his head as that's the only place they's room and he is alsr |a man that takes advantage of ever® | technicality like for inst.: | ~We was playing on a course wher they had winter rules. and his firss drive went off the course and ! asked if he could tee up, and th told him not in the rough, so he tde. that to mean that you could tee u~ anywheres but the rough; so aftc: | that when he got in a trap he wou | build a steeple of sand and use ! brassey. . The time 1 played with Geo. Car | pentier was the second time he eve | had a golf stick in his hands but for | the first few holes it was the toughe match I ever was mixed up in as | the first place, no matter wh |8tood the Frenchman thought y | the direction flag; and, in the second |place his trainer counfed his strokes |for him. and he had been brought up OF MAKING CALVIN COOLIDGE TED STATES.? !in the fight game where you stop | counting when you get ta ten. | 1 managed to win the match by un- {d@erbidding and after the third or {fourth hole when it was his turn to shoot I kept out of danger by stand- ing in the line between his ball and the pin. Personly my game averaged pretty near two strokes better per round than the first day I ever played and when people asks me now days what I play in I say “Oh, about 93 because 93 is what I would of got one day if I had of had & par 5 Instead of a 8 on the last hole. | ""As for the Iadies and gents I played |with 1 guess they had a pretty good time or at lease I noticed them laugh- ing a good deal and all and all they ain’'t nobody the worse for me playing with them either financially or phys- ically though I did manage to hit Geo. Ade in the feed-bag with « brassey and also come withi couple of inches of making Calvin Coolidge President of the U. S. RING W. LARDNER. Great Neck, December 2. “Qld Dominion.” ¢¢(\LD DOMINION" i & popular so- briquet for the state of Virginia. In the early days of English coloniz- ing Virginia, as the first, was a ge- neric term for all their new world set- tiements. Thus, in Capt. John Smith's “History of Virginia” (edition of 1629) a map of. the settlements of Virginia includes New England and other Brit- ish colonles. The present state of Virginia is there called “Old Virginia,” while the New England colony is called “New Virginia.” Thus the epithet “Old" is accounted for. From the settlement of the colony to the outbreak of the revolution every official document designuted Virginia as “The Colony and Dominion of Virginia.” Spenser dedicated his “Faerle Queene” to Eliza- beth, “Queen of England, France and Ireland, and sovereign of the Dom- inion of Virginia.” Here we have the other word of the epithet. Another explanation asserts that the precise title Old Dominion was bestowed on the state by Charles I. Virginia had refu: to recog- nise Cromwell and the protectorate. and after the execution of Charles I transferred its allegiance to Charles 11, then in exile on the continent. The governor, Sir Willlam Berkeley, even wrote to the royal refugee, Inviting him to come over to his loyal subjects as their king. Cromwell sent a fleet against the recalcitrant province, which yiélded under protest to su- perior force, But as soon as the n of Crom- well's death arrived, Charles II was solemnly proolaimed King of Great Britain, lreland Virginia. Al writs and processes were issued in his name. He was therefore de facto king of Virginia, before he had begun to reign at home. In gratitude for this loyalty, it Is further sald, Charles caused the arms of the province of Virginia to be quartered with those of England, Ireland .and land, as a distinct portion of the Old Damlni;-u. They thua appear on English coins struck as late as 1773, by order of George 1IL y’