Evening Star Newspaper, August 20, 1922, Page 55

Racing Costs New York $500,000 a Day BY E. H. SMITH. ORSE racing costs New York at least $500,000 a day. There is a statute which forbids gambling and bookmaking. but what betting is conducted on the tracks is legal under an interpreta- tion of the law by the courts. The New York reader may recall the storm and fury that swept the state when, under Gov. Hughes, a set of legislative acts was passed which purported to forbid race track bet- ting. Tt was represented, by the re- form element through whose influence this legislation was enacted, that race track gambling was ruining young men. turning honest men into thiev driving others to suicide and absorb- ing the money that should be spent supporting wives and children. Cases of embezzlement and forgery were traced to the poolrooms, and innu- merable other crimes to the touts and hangers-on of the tracks. Abolish racing, said the reformers, and these evils will disappear. But there was a compromise. Racing was allowed to &0 on, though betting was forbidden under heavy penalties. That was more than ten vears ago. Today New York is one of the four states in the Union where running races are permitted to operate. :he} others being Kentucky, Maryland and Louisiana. In the three latter states betting is permitted. but it has been regulated and partly paternalized by the introduction of the pari-mutuel machines and the more or less strict suppression of betting away from the tracks. In Maryland, to draw a con- trast, every track must pay the state $6.000 for every day of racing in ad- dition to the state’s percentage from the pari-mutuels. In New York the state derives no revenue whatsoever from the tracks and there is no regu- lation of the play. Gambling exists Dby evasion, by court interpretation of the law. This article must not be interpreted as denunciation or even criticism of racing as conducted in New York. I am told that the sport itself is care- fully governer and controlled. The subject here is gambling. Here are a few facts: There is more betting in New York city today than in the palmiest days of the open tracks. Five times as many bookmakers are operating in the city than ever before in its history. More money is being lost than ever before. And, besides, men, women and chil- dren now are betting on the races, and classes of citizens whom the old- time poolrooms never affected are being tempted. “The ponles” have replaced policy and the innumerable forms of lot- terles that have flourished on and off in spite of police and protest. The craze for easy money, suppressed in s0 many directions, has broken out in a flood due to the accessibility of the handbook man in every neighbor- hood. All the gambling funds of the town are flowing to the bookmakers, * kX % NO matter what part of the city of New York you inhabit there is a handbook at your door. Step out of your house tomorrow morning, go to a nearby cigar store, barber shop, or newsstand, or go to many a drug store, grocer’'s shop, bootblack stand, bakery or restaurant, and you will find some one there ready to take your money and lay a bet with you on the horse races to be run in the afternoon. At the subway or elevated entrance an agent also handles racing form and dope sheets, and, what is worse, the circular letters of tipsters which he will sell you for a small price. He pays 76 per cent of this price to the tipster; the balance is his commis- sion. The same man will take your bet. This he passes over to the hand- book man, who allows him 10 per cent commission. Such 2 man is called a commissioner. Any one may act in this capacity, If he knows a layer of odds who conducts a handbook. Perhaps the janitor of your apart- ment house takes commissions, or the hallboys and telephone operators, taxicab drivers, subway guards, office boys, waiters, stenographers and what not? A little while before the first race the commissjoners get in touch with runners for the handbook keepers, or telephone to the bookmalers and re- port the bets they have taken. If you have laid one of these bets and happen to win the bookmaker or his runner delivers your money to the commissioner on the following day and you are paid. At the same time you may lay fresh bets if you like. Certain of the business bulldings downtown and in the theatrical dis- trict are honeycombed with the offices of handbook men and professional tipsters, who are reaping large harv- ests from the gambling-mad public. This thing goes on all the year round. If the horses are not running at Jamalca or Belmont Park or Em- pire City or Saratago, they are start- ing at Pimlico, Havre de Grace, Bowle. Latonia, Churchill Downs, New Orleans, Tia Juana, Havana or Juares. The New York handbook man plays them all and his public is with him fifty-two weeks of the year. 1If you will go to any of the race tracks near New York city in their! seasons you will be struck by the great number of women attending these events dnd betting as freely as men. And if you know a handbook man or commissioner in your neigh- borhood he will tell you women are sambling as never in the past, both in number and in the size of their wagers. Even children are at it. Re- cently in one of the upper west side parks I saw three boys under four- teen years of age pool their nickels and dimes, turn the sum over to & ‘boy of mineteen or twenty, who went, to s!nawsdealer and lgid the money 1 to Win. ST TSSO Y G TTOTOTITOTTIIIOSIDIA had chosen. This merely is an indi- cation of the spread of betting. * ok ok ok ] HAVE asked veteran gamblers and race track men what they esti- mate as the daily racing turnover in New York city. One of these, a man who has followed races and bookmaking forty years, mainly in the city, tells me there are not fewer than 200,000 daily betters on horse races in the city, including suburb- anites, who come in every day and lay wagers near their places of busi- nees, and the great swarms of visi- tors at the hotels for whom the bookmakers and betting commission- ers lay special snares. The average bet per race is not less than $5, this veteran says, because for every two men who bet only $2 or $3, there is 2 man who bets $10. Again, the average bettor wages on two on three races per day, so that his total will amount to $10 or $15. This does not take Into account the large bets, which greatly swell the total, for there are frequent ones of from $10.- 000 to $50,000 and $100,000 on indi- vidual races. “I figure it this way,” my informant #aid. “There are about 6,000,000 peo- ple in New York, which means, ap- proximately, 1.200,000 adult males. Of these, maybe one man in every eight plays the horses.” Probably one man in every four or five does. My esti- mate is that we get a daily play out of one in eight. Then I calculate there are about 50,000° visitors, sub- urbanites and women who bet on the ponies. They bring the total to 200,- 000 daily bettors. Mind now, I re- gard this as a low estimate. My own experience leads me to think that the average wager is not less than $15, including the big stuff, so we have about $3.000,000 bet every day the ponies start. It sounds big, but the total perhaps is even larger. Never anything like it in my experi- ence. Say, if the bookies had ever got a play like that in the days of open betting they'd have dropped dead.” ~ It is but fair to balance this state- ment with that of one of the best known betting commissioners in New York, 2 man who handles the wagers for a group of millionaire plungers, BTJOT DTS >TSS T OO S SOSSO It Is Estimated That One Man in Every Eight Is an Easy Mark for the Bookmakers Who Infest the City—Handbook Agents Take Bets From Women and Children—How the Bettor’'s Dollar Is Trimmed When It Happens ’ AT S handbook is larger than ever in the history of racing. Any experienced handicapper can demonstrate the fact in a momént by tabulating the odds actually paid in any race you may select—not those quoted in the dope sheets, by the way, for they are al- ways padded to make the book seem honest. But you Need not do any special figuring to see what the per- centage against the better must be. 1 have already sald that the com- missioners, who take 80 per cent of the bets made about the city, receive 10 per cent for their trouble. This must, of course, be paid out of the gambler's percentage. The commis- sioner turns over his bet to the hand- book man and this worthy certainly does not take less than the commis- sioner. Behind the bookie stands the gambler-capitalist, and there are several very large fish in this achool. These men supply the money with which the bookies operate and they are the real heads of the race gam- bling trust. Naturally, they want a good share of the easy money. If they provide cash for bookmakers who can pay commissioners 10 per cent and retain at least as much for themselves, the capitalists certainly exact no less than is allowed their servants. Therefore every bet laid with a bookmaker must contain a percentage of at least 30 cents in every dollar in his favor—10 cents for the capitalist, 10 for the bookie and 10 for the commissioner. As a matter of fact, many percentages are even higher, and T have yet to find an impartial tout or gambler who estimates the average percentage to be Irss than 35 to 40. In other words, the better constantly is laying his dollar against 60 cents. Some inexperienced betters may say that when there is racing in states which have the pari-mutuel system the New York bookies pay off at the prices reported from the tracks, and this provcs the honesty of the hand- books and disproves the claim of high percentages, since the rake-off of the mutuels is only 10 per cent. It is true the local bookies pay the odds of the mutuel machin but they restrict themselves by ruling out all long shots. The maximum odds any New York bookie will pay several of whom are themselves own-!on races run at the mutuel machine ers of racing stables. This man de- clares it is impossible to estimate with any approach to accuracy the dimensions of the betting proclivi- ties of Manhattanites. A million dol- lars a day eeems, to him, exaggera- tion—$500,000 too little. More are betting than ever before, but the amounts are smaller. The first man's guess that the average dally wager is $15, he pronounces excessive. It is more likely that the unit is § i lost the day's transactions end, if it wins the gains ‘are restaked. The big money is laid out of town ‘to avoid affecting the odds. At the race track the daily average attendance is between 6,000 and 7,000, of whom perhaps 15 per cent do not gambl However, this man, though he says his relations are conservative, admits being astonished at the extent of this form of gambling. *x x* THE worst feature of all this is the Hegree to which the public is being cheated, It is an unquestioned. fact that the pércentage agsinst the tracks'are 15, 6 and 2 to 1, or 16 te 1-for a winner, 6 to 1 for place and 2 to 1 for showing. KEven if the price at the track is a 100 to 1 you only get 15 in New York. But the biggest saving for the bookies comes in the place and show money. The pari- mutuel machines often give horses 330 and $40 for each two-dollar ticket for a placed horse, which is at the rate of 15 or 20 to 1. But the bookie will not pay more than 6 to 1. These limitations of the odds easily run up the percentage in favor of the hand- books to the figures I give. Consider the matter from whatever: angle you please and the fact re- mains that the bookie always has a percentage of at least one-third against you. That iz how we determine that it costs New York at least $500,000 a ‘aay for'its unlawful gambling. If the bookie has an advantage| against you of 331-3 per cent, you can bet your dollgr only three times | tak before it is gone. " THE SUNDAY 'STAR, WASHING TON, D. C., AUGUST 20, 1 Trilby May and Soft-Boiled One 922—PART 4. night Order for Starch and Laundry Soap. Inez Has a Hunch That Burglars Are Due After Buying Orgies at Tllttle Faru: Auction— Z Creaking Noises at Night Disclose Search for Missing Shares of Stock—Village Rube Begs for ‘b Mercy When Found Wearing Mask and Carrying-Candle, Jimmy and Rusty Pistol—(iets Mid- ' BY SEWELL FORD. T MUST have been about the third night after our buying orgle at the Tuttle farm auction. Any- way, 1 remember that after we'd I was sure I'd locked the front door. T think 8o says 1, yawning. ut what possible difference does it make whether I did or not?' “Oughta lock up,” insists Inez. But it's such a useless gesture,” B ys 1, “with botlr the side and back three dnre <"y daY 1t 18 mulcted] goors “tett unfastened and halt a ACE tipping is, of 7 en | d03en Windows on the first floor wide R DPINg Is, of course, the even |, pegides, after paying for all shadler practice in the shadow of the bookmakers. These tipsters advertise in all the dope sheets, claim to have picked winners day after day. loudly proclaim that they have spe cial information and hint that they |the toe of my slipper, as usual.” know certain races to be fixed. They| Inez, however, shakes her head ank the reader to send in his money | dublous. or his name or to call at thelr offices. “Oh, come’ ys I. “Who is there Many silly persons respond, with the | to break fn, way up here in the wilds result that the tipsters ofter their [of New Hampshir, i information sither for 'a cash pay-| “You can't tell” she insists ment or for a percentage of the win- ' £ ning. Many a sucker is lured by this [ 40%7 the roRd betore I ciine:up- A latter trick, believing in his sim- '“..H'nh:,. VAL “Pronably e ot plicity that the tipster cannot Win{, “yiioen " obing back from the unless the better does. But the tiD-|yiage or out for a smoke before ster merely sends the sucker t¢ &|iyrning in. Just think of the noble bookle with whom the tipster has an | male protectors we have on the place, arrangement. Instead of getting a|Inez: a boss carpenter, a painter and few dollars for his tip he divides the |a plumber, besides Barry and your fonlish man's losses with the book-|Uncle Nels. Fat chance we have of maker. 2 much more profitable deal. |being burgled, even if we had any- But these tipsters are, in many in- |thing worth stealing. Let's go to stances, agents of confldence men |sleep. Good night. I'm signing off.” and, in some cases, con men them- et S selves. They wait until a live one| AND T'll say it didn't take me long, shows up amohg their victims. Such for: we'd been for a long, drive & bettére—cne Wio .makes (large]lnat day, half way up Monadnock Cagors and. appavently has money.|mountain. and wed picked a lot of ¥ Y| blueberries, and indulged in other is then roped and steered. An agentf g, ..g of exercise. .Then it was so is sent out to talk him up and excite} 1y and still out here in the him on the subject of a race aboul| ,yptry; one of those moonless nights to be run. The man finally is induced | when you could almast feel the dark to plunge on a certain horse, which{«lipping down from the hills, cool the tipster puts forward as a sure|and sweet, and wrapping around yoy winner. The money for the bet usu- [cosy and comfortable. Say, I'm ally is turned over to the tipster, to | getting strong for this farm stuff, be laid by him. Instead he puts it]and I know it's doing us all a Jot of into his pocket. If the sucker is wise | §ood. Especially the amount of sleep enough to want to bet his own money [ I'm able to tear oft every night. be is sent to @ handbook man who |Honest. T can hit the feathers for a really is just the tipsger's agent. ;“‘l:;;::“;\_e:"“““ without hardly When the race is run the tipster| p, 5 ‘soemy this wasn't to be one goes to some small and venal owner of a few second rate horses and In- duces this man to start one of his nags in the race for a consideration. | ing over me and whispering husky. 1 can be; so far as ready cash goes, I doubt if there's more than ten dol- lars among the four of us, and 1 shall tuck all my family jewels in The horse goes in merely for the ex- El says 1. “Wh—what you| ercise. He is, as the race tout sa: not contending and has no chance to win. But the tipster has led the fool say?" Downstairs:” sa body creakin’ around to bet his money on this hopeless| “Oh, probably it's Uncle Nels,” says horse. Any one may guess the rest. His joints are like that. y As a matter of fact there are cer- says Inez. “He's in his room. 1 can hear him snorin'. taln horse owners in the country who keep small strings of runners for this purpose alone. They never try to win a race and probably couldn't it they did try. but they go about trom track to track, entering their horses so that these tipsters and va- : nelow fidence men, who are operating all} ;icejeqn prowling. It can’t,be done. over the country. may have horses| s\ng quite plainly we could hear this on which to lay their bets when the | creak-creak. time comes for a crooked coup. These | ~Burglars!” whispered Inez. owners receive a fee from the tip-| “I don't believe it,” says I sters and wire-tappers for this serv-{ “Who, then?’ demands Inez. “We ice. They uare, in fact, part of the|oughta wake up Barry Platt and swindling crew. Uncle Nels 1t is done this way: A tipster has a| “And have them give us the dupe in hand and has him talked |laugh?” says I “Let's not. Anyway. into laying a heavy bet on a horse | not until were sure. I'm going to named Saily P.. which is the property | S1iP down the stairs and have a look of one of these venal owners. So the | 178" Lo tipster goes to the owner and says: D"“; U :;" _‘fi‘hTf"b? h“l’”'l “Joe, what'll you charge me to start | "o o Y ETnIEnt Sally P. In the third tomorrow? Don't {705 ¢ s says 1. “In the first place, let 'er win, for heaven's sake! Just!i jon't they. There's only one. And let her run a little.” it might be Sairy Jewett, or Dunk, The price is agreed, the sucker is made to wager many thousands on this mare, the horse runs and loses and—well, that's all. ‘ Barry's door is shut, too. But some- Listen! Sure enough. 1 could hear some one stepping softly over the old floor boards in the room below. In their Uses for Motors. IT is not generally realized to what extent the use of the electric mo- tor as a small and handy source of power has been developed. There are, in fact, so many of these uses that it is difficult to enumerate them. Laundry machinery is largely oper- ated by electric motors, and especial- Iy is this true of centrifugal dryers and mangles. As evervbody knows. there are now offered family wash- ing machines operated in much the same way but on a smaller scale. \ \ In the great hotels and restau- \\ rants, motor-driven blowers., pumps dumbwaiters, exhausters, knife-clean- ers and chopping and mixing m chines are in evidence on every hand, while the number of electrically operated sewing machines in the homes of the country is increasing very rapidly, to say nothing of the electric vacuum-cleaner. i Motor-driven polishers have been brought out for use in caring for the hardwood floors in large halls and public buildings: motor-driven sweep- ers, which are used in the big depart- ment stores for quickly sweeping the long aisles and wide open spaces, and also electrically operated car- pet-sweepers for domestioc use. The electric motor is also largely employed by the medical profession. Physicians find it of great value for operating atomizers, varlous special @evices for massage purposes, and in connection with the many forms of apparatus which have been de- vised for effecting special exercises of the human body. or—or anything. You remember Modern printing offices, bookbind- | gairy had a toothache last week, and eries and the allied trades, too, make | she was still in the kitchen when extensive use of motors. we came up. Ill go scouting.” Many interesting, special and la. T should bor-saving electrically operated tools ‘No, Ines,” says L may now be found in manufacturing | weight on those old treads. You'd establishments. A portable drill is of the greatest utility where a num- ber of holes are to be drilled in a plece of work which it is inconven- fent, owing to its size or weight, to move to and around a stationary arill. In the western part of the United States and in Mexico the small elec- tric motor is much used for operating pumps employed in distributing or any of the help—putting out the cat, or hunting for toothache drops could be heard clear to the barn; and the top here, ready to come if I call, and et me do the silent sleuthing.” * * * X Inez, though, and she isn’'t look- ing for any waiting part when ex- this sections where the rainfall I'll say she can go to it rough. So very seanty or entirely absent! * Y seemed Mfning sneinesrs sre adopiime the | Dol UElld herto st on the top step and let me slip down first, al work now being under-|stepping close to the wall and easing and the substitution of elec- | myself down with my hands. I really did expect to find some of the family doing the midnight prowl, but after motor-drive and electric distribution of power in_much of the new devel- t] tol.;l:ommnodhl:; s m':.k‘i.u rogress in the ‘rn-_....l the mines sf:ndy E % gone upstairs Inez had asked me if those bargains, I'm as near broke as thought 1 saw somebody sneakin’| SURE ENOUGH, 1 COULD HEAR SOME ONE with a load of grocerfes for us, and‘ had stopped to gas with Sairy for | good.’ fifteen minutes, while she fed him | hot doughnuts. And T knew him for | hibits A an swaggering, v i here was a tiptoeing around candle in one hand and a jimmy in his bare feet, lage Rube whose criminal career had | “Hey probably carried him no further than ighbor's apple orchid | 'S ving Sunday poker in a seclud- He was a big, brutal looking yegg, the flickering 1 went shaky and 1'll admit for help, but 1 couldn't | moment later 1 So the job of finding out what he quite get it out. was glad 1 hadn't, for it occurred to me that the two of us would be no | And if we got Barry seemed difficult walk in and ask him what he match for him thought he was up to in the doorway quite a start. to get past that door and shout to the to the handrail, | candle. and So T simply clung tried to keep my teeth from chatter- and stared at often plotted out such situations, and | | pointing it wabbly in my direction. whoever vou | of those nights. The next thing I | knew I was roused by being shaken | by the shoulders. It was Inez, bend- | But the next thing nickeled re- ed out a rusty the wretch, * he growled husky she. “Some- through | against the real thing it's a lot dif- ferent from making these mind plays. | work up a single bit “Why. Hen. Smalley!” told you that you were a burglar? For a second his little, narrow set | eves stared at me over the edge of | 4y the bandanna, and then he must have { bravest thing I did was not to faint and spill myself over the banister. couldn’t even turn my head and wave to Inez to stay back was to gawp at this wide-shouldered villain with the old bandanna hand- kerchief draped across his nose and over his ears, was fussing around that old secre- | “but I have my doubts. tary desk, the one 1'd brought home | down there, walkin' around. | “Don’t make no mistake about me, m a desperate All 1 could do But that | thing. I've seen you eat, and if you “DON'T MAKE NO MISTAKE ABOUT ME, “I—PM A DESPERATE MAN, I'D JEST AS SOON SHOOT AS EAT.” SAYS HE, were as good at shooting as you are at consuming doughnuts. covered with medals. that rusty old gun hasn’t got a shot Come, now, take off the mas- querade costume and tell me why you're prowling around here at” this hour of the night. keep cookies Besides, I'll bet triumphant And then, all of a sudden, I noticed the pink pompadour and the jutting Surely there couldn’t be two such heads of hair in a small state like New Hampshire; at least, not of For it was of that light red which is as near pink as the human thatch can attain. grew or was trained crinkly pompadour such as I'd never seen the equal of. aeroplane ears, with the top halves bent out to catch the breeze, placed hjm for me beyond a doubt. point I wanted to laugh, but I expect the smothered chuckle sounded more have caught | some 'of it, for he turned and stared out into the dark hallway. Don't think we in that old desk, do You—you. think you're all-fired smart, don’t you?" says he. don’t know who I am, and what's more, you ain't gonna find out.” With that he starts backing to- ward the front hall. “Stop!” says L that exact shade. make the stairs groan so the racket into a high, it it was & burglar I'd never get & sight at him. You park yourself at “Another step and I'll scream, and before you know it able-bodied men Kicking you around the place. You've seen the Milliken boys, I expect; and perhaps you can imagine what they'd do to you if T gave the word.” 1 saw his little eyes dart around nervous and his grip on revolver go foolin’, Miss Dodg: THERE'S nothing yellow about like a sob. the citing doings are in prospect. She water for irrigating purpol always wants to mix right in, and I knew who he was now—Hen. Smalley, who had been one of Squire helpers at the auction, and who had a regular job driving the delivery wagon for one of the two general stores ia Chenwick. Why, only the day before he had come out you're thdulging in a risky pastime, into houses with a gun and a jimmy." that ain’t no jimmy, Dodge!”. he .protests. “Only a box : opener from the store. That's wheres (Continued on Sixth Page.) - £ midnight SOFTLY OVER THE OLD FLOOR BOARDS IN THE ROOM BELOW. 1 found the old gun, too. It ain't no aybe.” says 1. “But x- B before a jury thos two items would earn you a long spell on the rock pile.” says he, dropp the re- volver as though it was red hot don't—don't talk that way, Miss | Dodge. for the luvva Gawd. You | know me, and you know I ain't no | burglar nohow. What you gonna do, miss?" “I haven't decided,” says 1 “8it | down 1 that hair while 1 think your e over And I might as we let Inez in on this, or the first thin you know she'll be houncing in here and giving you the rough-house tackle Don’t stir now, while I call her Oh. Inez! You ma come down now. Everything's all right.” * % % % [VA7HEN Inez trailed into the room. all dolled up in a bhaby blue dressing robe, ¥ou can guess she had her eyes bugged pecially when | she saw Hen. Smalley. still masked and slumped inta a rocking chair. Look what 1 found doing the Desperate Desmond act.” says | Inez stared hard at him through candle light. “Who— | who she remanded | ir face, mister.” mays i 3 {7, “and give the ladies a treat.” With fingers still trembling, Hen | removed the bandanna. “That feller” says Inez “Huh! Why. he's only the grocer boy Precisely,” says I “But when [ strolled down here he was giving a good imitation of a bold, bad bur- glar.” “No, 1 wasn't, neithe insisted Hen. “What's he want?" asks Inez. going { straight to the point, as usual | “That is just the topic 1 mean to | discuss with him.” says I. “Come on, | Hen., tell us all about it For a moment or so Hen. pawed | the braided rug with one of his bare | feet and squirmed around uneasy in | the chair. Not a rapid-fire thinker, Henry, nor a shifty performer when cornered. But by main strength and awkwardness he did manage to get out a most unconvincing tale. He'd | been coming home from a dance, over at Westmoreland Corners, and he was | awfully hungry. =0 as he was passing |our place he remembered those | doughnuts of Sairy Jewett's, and he | thought we wouldn't mind if he slip- ped in easy and snitched a few “So you brought the gun along to ] shoot ‘em on the wing if you found | 'em fiying about the Kkitchen. eh | T added. “I'm afraid your imagins | tion is muscle bound, Hen. You're a | willing liar, all right, but a perfectly { punk one. Besides, | supplied the | hunger hunch, not two minutes age. | 1's a washout. Hen a dead wire. | come mow, plug in on another Mne and give us the true dope. What were vou after in this living room® But at that Hen only turned sulk: “He oughta be in jail, him’ says Inez. m afra that's where he's headed for, 1 Suppose you stand gua | aver him, Tnez while 1 call the Milli- | ken boys and— | “Don't do that!” breaks in Hen. “1 [ =Tl tell. That i if yowll say you won't put me in Jail.” 1 ‘Il make no promises. Hen.' says 1, “except that I'll let you off as easy as I can. Of course, if you'd rather take chances with those rough Milli- { kens—" “No, no!" savs he. "I don't wanna git mixed up with them. And T'll give it to vou straight. I—1 was lookin' for something in that old desk.” “What?" says L “Some kind of stocks that Ben Tuttle had a long time ago,” says he. “Stocks?” says I.' “What kind of stocks?” “Telephone.” says Hen. “Fifty shares of Bell Telephone that never turned up {at the sal “But the drawers of that old desk were empty when 1 bought it.” says 1 “That is, except for some old bills and cooking receints. And I saw you pocket a bunch of letters that fell out of it just before the sale. Who told you anything about shares of Bell Tele- * says Hen. “I read about *em In one of the letters.” “Oh!" says L “Well, go on." * ¥ ¥ * ¢ ETTERSfrom that girl of old Tut- tle's—the one that went back on him,” explains Hen. “Way back, they was dated, years ago. She'd got the shares from an uncle of hers and she wanted to raise some cash on ‘em scause she was plannin’ to go to Bos- ton to take singin' lessons. In one letter she asked Ben to buy ‘em off'm her, and in th’ next she thanked him for sendin' her th’ mouey. Three hun- dred dollars, it was. And 1 guess that was the last Ben Tuttle ever heard from her, except that she married some Boston feller. But if he bought them stocks he must have had ‘em around somewheres, mustn't he “Unless he sold them,” 1 suggested. em—— e