Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, September 21, 1913, Image 45

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Evening star. [volume], September 21, 1913, Image 45
About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972

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Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.), 21 Sept. 1913. Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. Lib. of Congress. <https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045462/1913-09-21/ed-1/seq-45/>

Newspaper Page Text

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THE EDITOR
aasocteteD
^un&a? ittagajtms
52 East Nineteenth Street
^Ceu) York City
depends nowadays on its reputation. And
I don't want to accumulate something that 11
take years to live down. You meet Jack,
and I'll see that the dago doesn't vamose.
In my car are a couple of guns. They may
come in handy."
1 had them already. A package ot ciga
rettes and a short talk strengthened the
ticket taker's opinion of the importance of
his job. '1 he settling with the papers was
done on the lot; for I had decided to hang
around the sword swallower that dav ?the
way (irant hung around Richmond some
years before.
I even dined in the cook tent, and sat
where I could watch Angelotti as he poked
beans, potatoes, roast beef, and spring
onions into his system. "Poked, though, is
hardly the word. He was a delicate little
man, with a peculiarly delicate voice, and
ate delicately an impossible quantity of in
delicate food. He seemed nervous. 1
didn't blame him for that.
THE seven-ten train pulled in on time, and
I was there to meet it with Sam's horse
and buggy. The first man to pile off was
Jack McCann. On the way to the lot we
hurriedly compared notes. Jack's story
didn't last long. It couldn't; for he had
just come from Rock Springs. I told him
my theory and how I stumbled on it. I
mapped out what seemed to be the scheme
of the evening, showed the wires from Chi
cago and the last town, and slipped him one
of the cannon.
14Immense!" said he. "If we don t clean
up this affair tonight, it's me back to New
port and the simple life!"
"The Derby Hotel clerk," said I, "may
be short on brains; but his bellhop is long
on feet. Mr. Barnes is pigeontoed and
wears most on the outer edge. Mrs. Barnes
wears threes, anil they're too big at that.
Muddy night last night in Derby. Else
why let a small-town boot shiner monkey
with citv shoes?"
We whirled on the lot through a hole in
the fence behind the cook tent and tied the
horse to a rear wheel of the Red Wagon.
The moment Sam saw us?he was outside
the wagon waiting?he let out a yelp that
drowned the sideshow band, the cries of
spielers, and the hubbub of the crowd trying
to buy tickets for the big show.
"The dago's blown!" he yelled.
TIM SON and the ticket taker were there,
and tried to cut in while McCann and
I, with our tongues hanging out and our ears
pointed like a pair of setters, listened. The
best we could get out of the gabble was that
Angelotti, when called for the ballyhoo out
in front of the sideshow, wasn't in the dress
ing tent. All his clothes were there, street
clothes and costume, and both bags. Noth
ing was gone except Angelotti.
"He must have left naked, said 1 imson.
"When was he called?" said I.
"Not more'n a minute ago," all three
cried. "Didn't even wait for his pay!"
1 dragged McCann to the buggy,?couldn t
untie the halter, and cut it with a kniti
pushed Jack in, climbed in after him, and
hit Sam's sorrel a welt with the butt end
of the whip that sent him off toward town
like a fairly good imitation of Maud S in
harness. From the place we struck the road
to the nearest street lamp must have been
half a mile, and the way we hopped from
crag to crag, in and out of miud holes, over,
under, and around trolley cars, and past
pedestrians made a trip on the loop-the
loop, the Rocky Road to Dublin, or any
other Coney Island hair raiser look like a
futile and feminine pastime. As we neared
the light I asked Jack to tell me the time.
"Eight-four!" he yelled, and I could
hardly hear him for the racket we were
making over the road.
There was a train leaving at eight-twenty,
?I didn't know in which direction,?and I
swatted the sorrel a swat designed and in
tended to raise a blister. We may have hit
the ground three times between there and
the town square where you turn to the de
pot; but I doubt it. We felt only two
bumps, and they were secondary rather than
momentarv. How we missed the Soldiers
and Sailors' monument at the turn not even
the sorrel knows. But we drew up at the
station just as the train was whistling up
the track; which means that she was headed
south. The dago lied when he said Quebec
the last time. There was no desire or need
to tie the horse. He was too tired to move.
Jack and I landed on the dirt together.
"You attend to little Kendall! Remem
ber he is pigeontoed and wears Dundreary
whiskers!" I spluttered. "Leave the dago
to me! And don't pull any rough stuff.
Spot your man; but let me grab the sword
swallower first!"
INTO the mob we dashed. Did you ever
see a depot crowd in a small town on
a circus day? Some swarm, isn't it? We
rushed forwa-il, nd the train had almost
I'tvakt' 1 to a standstill before I sj>i1 Angc
lotti. lit- wore a j>i? ttir?? hat with a ro
plumo, a dark blue tailor-made suit with
a slightly slit petticoat (visible legs were
just becoming fashionable in the Hast, hut
hadn't permeated the Middle West; hence
the stares that the platform packed with
people directed toward the sideshow per
former), tiny patent leather puni| s, silk
stockings, a veil, a parasol, white gloves, and
a handbag. As neat looking a little trick
as you ever gazed at! I didn't gaze long.
Putting my hands to my mouth and aiming
over the heads of the crowd, I cried as loud
as I could:
"Hello, Mrs. Barnes!"
She was third in the line to a parlor car;
but she turned, and before she could make
the step I had her.
"In the waiting room just a moment,
dear lady, said I softly. " I here's plenty
of time. The train will be here ten min
utes."
At my elbow Jack was speaking. "Par
Mtf1 m(-% Kichman, lie was saying.
If you don't mind I'd like to have a word
with you. I'm interested in street railways
too."
I he crowd was shoving and pushing its
way to the train, and we let them paw, Jack
and I, each with a hand round a waist The
waists and their owners came with us. My
job was the easier, and I headed the way,
not to the waiting room but to the depot
restaurant, which was almost deserted. The
"almost" was eliminated when Jack slued
the pigeontoed Richman into a seat, tossed
the lone waitress a silver dollar, and asked
her to disappear behind the newly mani
cured coffee urn. Mrs. Barnes was dabbing
a handkerchief to her eyes; but she wasn't
crying. Her kind never does.
LIS 1 LN, Angelotti, Mrs. Barnes, Slippery
Jane, or whichever of your names you
want to be called!" I began. "The first time
I saw you was on Hammerstein's Roof. You
were doing card tricks and legerdemain.
Mademoiselle Sorbonne was your name
Remember? Arthur Prince and Houdini
were on tin* same bill. I went with a Cen
tral Office detective, who told me a lot about
your history. You're slick; but there are
slicker."
"What do you want of me?" the lady
snapped. "Snapped" is the correct word
correctly used.
"There are still four minutes to spare be
fore the rattler leaves,1 I went on, j*iviii?
Jack the high sign to keep quiet. "If you're
good, you both can leave on it. Next I wish
to introduce my friend John Henry Mc
( ann, Jr., whose father is the majority
holder of the Continental Electric Railroad
stock. I don t think he would like to know
that, his trusted president, Mr. Kendall
Richman, with the aid of a combination
pickpocket, second-story worker, sleight-of
hand artist, male impersonator, and sword
swallower, pinched two hundred and fifty
thousand dollars of the syndicate's cash.
Mr. McCann, Jr., is also the star reporter of
'The New York Forum.' If you don't want
to see trouble arrive in gobs, cough up and
catch your train."
Jack, for lack of anything better to do, or
because the spirit of melodrama had grabbed
him, tapped Sam's .45 against a plate of
chocolate eclairs. Richman wiped his face
with a silk handkerchief and gazed at us for
a full minute. I give him credit for paying
no attention to the gun.
"Dig. Jane!" he said emphatically.
Angelotti swung on the stool, lifted his
skirts, and dug. He swung back and tossed
twenty-five ten-thousand-dollar banknotes
on the lunch counter. Jack ran through
them, scanning the numbers. The train
whistled through the noise outside. Jack
put the wad into one pocket, Sam's gun into
the other, ' lien he fished some telegraph
blanks out of his coat, scribbled for a mo
ment, and handed the result to me. It was
addressed to his father, and stated that the
Continental Railway money had been re
turned intact.
ou say Harkins thinks this kind of pub
licity will hurt his show?"
I nodded, and he wired to his city editor
as follows:
No robbery. No story. All a mistake. Back
Monday. McCann.
The while Mrs. Barnes and Kendall Rich
man were sitting on two lunch stools watch
ing us. A pair of hoarse snorts from the
locomotive.
" I here's your train!" said Jack.
V\ e saw them to the parlor car and aboard.
As they pulled out they were standing on the
front platform.
"New Orleans or Quebec?" I couldn't help
asking.
I he only remark tossed back was by
Angelotti. "A hell of a way to treat a
lady!" was what he or she said.
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Evening star. [volume], September 21, 1913, Image 45
About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972

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Evening star. [volume], September 21, 1913, Image 45 About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972

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Evening star. [volume], September 21, 1913, Image 45
About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972