Evening Star Newspaper, May 17, 1931, Page 89

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, MAY 17, 1931, p—— head' and swollen red eye coming up out of the river. Thnen Patrick grinned—a little crooked, that g€ in was, because his lip was cut. “Say, that was a peacherino!” remarked Patrick. “Show me how you did it?” Bludg: hesitated, shuffied his feet. Then he leaned over the rail to give Patrick a hand up. “Sure,” he said gruffly. That night Patrick had dinner with Stacia Willoughby. Patrick’s eye had turned the color of a purple plum. Patrick’s lip had swollen, but his grin was just as ready. Patrick was elated. For there was Stacia sitting across the table from him and she was smiling at him. “Well,” he said, “I got promoted.” Stacia’s smile faded unaccountably. in the molding room,” she guessed. _ “How . . .?” began Patrick. He felt a discomfort about coal dust, though he had realiy quite thoroughly removed it. He put a careful finger to his lip. “I got it fighting,” he explained. “Bludge?” Stacia guessed again. “Yes,” said Patrick, surprised. “I guess I'm not a very good fighter, but I couldn’t let him drive me out when I'd just got there. it made me feel kind of—as if I was fighting for you.” He blushed and grinned so charmingly when he said it that no one could have been much annoyed. Besides there is a little bit of the primitive in every civilized young lady, and the idea was not half as distasteful to Stacia as it should have been. She neatly ignored it. “What should you say,” she asked slowly, “if I told you that I was going to marry Trevor McIlwain?” Patrick’s fingers closed down tight over the end of the table. “I should say it was too bad,” said Patrick. “I should say let’s go and ride while I tell you how bad it 1s.” “All right, let’s,” said Stacia. “You're ATRICK was not a borm fireman. But everybody liked him. He was subject to lapses when he leaned on his shovel and stared into red space, unmindful of the blistering heat and the sweat that trickled down his shoulders. Ecme of the men kidded him about it in a good- natured way. “Let de boy alone, can't yuh?” demanded Bludge, drawing down his black brows. “Likely he’s thinkin’ 'bout his girul. Ain’'t yuh got no feelin's?” Patrick thought a lot about Stacia those days. Rather often he saw her. You could not explain to Stacia in just one meeting how really awfully bad it would be for her to marry Trevor McIlwain, and every time he thought of new reasons Patrick had to take her out again .to tell ‘her about them. “But he doesn't really love you,” said Patrick. “Doesn’t he?” asked Stacia. “You don’'t really love him.” “How do you know?” asked Stacia. “You couldn’t,” explained Patrick. “You couldn’t really love him, and me too, could yo0i?” “o,” agreed Stacia. “But .. .” Patrick did not wait for that “but”: “He isn’t the kind of man for you to marry.” “What kind of man would that be?” “Well,” said Patrick, “say a man . litt'e more like me.” Stacia laughed when he said thi but she did not stop him. And th: into a little woody place above and her hands were locked ‘When Patrick saw Stacia him, so still and small and white, not laughing at all, her hands tight together in her lap . . . then something happened to him. He put his arms around Stacia and kissed her on the lips. That night it took him 25 minutes to say good-by to her on the Willoughby doorstep. And some time during that 25 minutes Jared Willoughby looked out of the window. The next morning Jared Willoughby and Tidweiler had a erence. Tidweiler wanted to fire Patrick right out. But Jared Willoughby had other ideas. If he fired Patrick Stacia might be sorry for him. But if Patrick just naturally went, well and good. “We’ll transfer him to sales,” he said, “and send him to get an order from Ivor McIllwain.” Tidweiler rubbed his hands sound- lessly, as if they were buttered. “Tee-hee,” said Tidweiler. Five years before Ivor Mcllwain had been Willoughby’s biggest customer. He owned the Mcllwain Chain, retail optical supplies. Ivor McIlwain was & mean customer to lose. It was a small thing, too, that had caused the trouble —no bigger than a mosquito. In fact, it was 2 mosquito. This mesquito bit Rudy Gilloran, crack lens inspector, on the eyelid ani caused the eye to swell most painfully. Gilloran continued to in- spect lenses, the eye continued to swell, his of cyeglasses for Mr. Horsford Bates, and he wore them six months, Mr. Bates began to see black spots floating in the air, and was badly frightened. He was expensively treated for the liver, the kidneys, the stomach. Finally it was discovered that his glasses were at fault. And Mr. Bates sued Mr. McIlwain at the rate of about $1,000 per black spot. It was just after the settlement was made that Ivor McOwain visited Jared Willoughby. It was not a quiet meeting. When it was over Mr. Willoughby had a heart attack and Mr. Mcllwain took his business elsewhere. “It is good,” Patrick was insisting. “Thirty- five a week, and no end of commissions. I'm going right now to get an order. If you came along, too, why then w2 could talk. . . .” “All right,” agrez=d Stacia. She went just the way she was; blue linen and no hat. The wind lifted the hair away from her small ears and laid il fiat on her head like & gald cap. It was an upsellingly lovely way for any one to look. They did not talk much after all—or at least not very lucidly. “What did Tidweiler say when he told you?” Stacia asked. - “Nothing, I guess,” said Patrick. “Your hair is the color of sun on a new gold -piece.” “Where are you going?” Stacia asked. “Down the road,” said Patrick. “But I mean where arc you on the way to?” “Heaven,” said Patrick. ‘“When you hold your chin up like that you look like an angel getting ready to fly. If I do get this order may I kiss you & number of times?” “Silly!” sald Stacia. “That isn’'t silly,” said Patrick. “That’s sense.” He swung the car nearly off the main road Stacia came to herself then, caught Patrick by the sleeve. “But you can’'t go here,” she cried. “This is the way to Ivor McIlwain’s.” “Ivor McIlwain,” said Patrick, “is the man I'm supposed to get the order from.” He was startled at the look that sprang in Stacia’s eyes. “But you don't understand, Patrick. Ivor McIlwain and Uncle Jared had the most terrible “Seems to me I did hear something about it at the plant,” Patrick admitted. “But if he'’s such a hard customer, then it's kind of a compliment, isn't it, for your uncle to send me?” And what can you do with a young man like that, Stacia wondered. “But he’ll-kill you,” she cried. “He sald he would. He .. .” “I'm hard to kill,” said Patrick. “Once I was pushed off an ocean liner, and once I was on a roller-coaster when the machinery broke, and once I was in a theater panic. And “But this is serious,” said Stacia. “I was serious from the beginning,” said IVOR MCcILWAIN was looking fiercer than usual that merning. The fact was that he had caught a glinpse of Trevor with Stacia Wil- loughby the day before, and this glimpse had been the subject of a recent interview. Mr. McIlwain had issued an ultimatum, and Trevor had replied with defiance. e It was at this unlikely mement that Ivor Me- Tiwain saw a car standing at his gate; in the car was Stacia Willoughby, and in the drive, advancing toward him, was a young man with red hair whom he took to be the Willoughby lawyer. Mr. Mcllwain, rising from a garden bench to meet him, was suddenly purple. “I'm Patrick Canon. There’s a little business matter. ., . .” Mr. McIlwain gathered himself together. “You can't blackmail me,” he shouted. “Oh, no,” said Patrick. “No mail orders. ‘We’d ship by express.” “¥You can’t railroad me into anything, either.” “Of course not. I can promise you. Continued from Eleventh Page came to the United States on her honeymoon and told me my brother wanted me to come over some time.. Then she told me the business he is in.” “Why,” asked Burke, “didn’t you tell me this when I first met you in September? You said he was a small man who worked on the docks.” “Well, Bill,” said Collins, “I didn't know you then. I know you now and can trust you. My brother writes that he can ship heroin, cocaine, morphine and opium in olive oil. “The company he is with has the finest cabinetmakers in the country. They build false pockets in barrels and about 10 barrels in 50 will have the stuff. What worries me is that T haven't got a big customs officer fixed. I have one that can get me three or four kilos, but not a big man.” Burke'’s mind was racing. He knew & man Detroit, he volunteered, who once had a officer fixed and he thought he might be to get him, but Collins would have to let handle all the business himself, The would be ordered in Burke's name. Another appointment was made for three days later. At Collins’ apartment Burke’s host became He was certainly a good contact for a fellow to have, thought Burke. Particularly was Burke interested in mail coming from Turkey. Some of it, he found, was arriving at the Becond avenue coffee house, addressed to “John Lombas,” but he could not get near it for fear :!e mslnc suspicion—which, of course, would atal. That night it took him 25 minutes to say goodbye to her. “There’s no breach of promise.”” Mr. Mc- Ilwain fell on the one word he was afraid of. “No,” agreed Patrick. “I had not under- stood there was any promise to buy. Rather the contrary.” of opium. XKhris the Greek, lingering nearby, approached the table. “I know a man who can get cocaine,” he volunteered. “The price will be $36 an ounce and you can't do any better.” Burke agreed and Khris, or Loules, disap- peared. Three hours later he returned, handed contained old shoes and socks, a “stall” in case they should be “sneezed” by the police. 3 Next day the opium was purchased from W Mr. McGwain saw that there was something here .that he did not understand, and it bothered him. “You lawyers think you're pretty clever,” he muttered. “But I'm not a lawyer,” said Patrick pleas- antly. - “I'm a salesman.” Mr. Mcllwain was reassured. He was afraid of lawyers, but salesmen. . . . A All of a sudden Patrick Canon was sitting on the bcnch beside him, and he was grinning 11 a quict and c mpanionable way. “Suppor2,” said Patrick, “you tell me ail about what's worrying you.” Mr. Ivor Mcllwain was not used to beiny treated lite this; humanly and kindly. He w:s used to opposit'on, and bullying, and anger, and he could cope with them. But against sym- pathy, the friendly look of Patrick’s blue eyes hz had no defense. He felt suddenly tirel and old and in necxd of a confidant. “Stacia Willoughby is going to marry my son,” he said simply. It was Fatrick then who was on his feet, Patrick, white and stricken, who was shouting. “No!” he cried—and there was no doubt, even to Mr. McIlwain, of his sincerity. “You don't want her to?” His voice was eager. “No!” cried Patrick. “Youre not in with Jared Willoughby on this?” “No!” cried Patrick again. “She mustn’t. She cant. She . ., .” ) Mr. McIlwain’s fingers locked and unlock nervously about his knec. “Look here, boy,” he said. “I like you. You do this for me, stop them somehow, and I—I'l1 do anything you say. You wanted me to do something, didn't you? You came to get me to do something?” It was a sight to see old Ivor Mcllwain so anxious to oblige. . Patrick looked at him, but it was absent'y, as if he hardly saw him. “Oh, that,” he said. “Yes. I came to get your order for Willoughby lenses. But that hasn’t anything to do with it now. I stop them anyway—if I can.” “You can have my order,” cried Mr. McIlwain eagerly. “All my orders. Everything . . ” He broke off. For it was then that they saw Stacia there beside them; Stacia grown weary of waiting in the car; Stacia with clear color voice came to steady. Her very 5 . Mecllwain,” “But when I marry anybody it's more like Lmthucktpleceofchoeohfielnherchek and shook her permanent wave over the typewriter. “He’s a better boss than Tidweiler,” she said, “You can’t help liking the guy, even if he do-s make you work.” “They say,” said Minnie, “the old man’s going to make him a partner. Father was a friend of his or sumpthin’.” % “They say,” said Lily, “he’s going to marry, the old man’s niece.” : Minnie snapped her gum reflectively. “That's Just it,” sald Minnie. “You got to have a pull in this place or you don’t get nowheres.” (Copyright, 1931.) Mandies jumped to his feet. “And what do you mean talking to my friend r‘nng"mw “What business is it yours?”