The Daily Alaska empire. [volume], March 17, 1930, Page 6, Image 6

About The Daily Alaska empire. [volume] (Juneau, Alaska) 1926-1964

Image provided by: Alaska State Library Historical Collections

                
* nr a»y ui i
lining for Knld Howard arrives
cn the third day since she
r tar led out to find her missing
brother. Meeting Phil Martin's
aeenrations In silence she forces
him into another room as the
Big Shot returns. The hat she
wore on hor latest adventure
gives her away. He promises
she will feel the vengeance of
gangland. Phil springs at the
Big Shot and a fight follows—
the Big Shot gaining the upper
hand. The Big Shot summons
help. He believes Martin and
Enid conspired to capture him.
Enid grows to hope the Big
Shot is not her brother. Filled
with hate the Big Shot makes
her wish come true; he has a
web foot; her brother has no
physical blemish.
Chapter 37 \
ENID GOES RIDING
Then this despicable character
whom she had striven to save was
not her brother.
It was all a terrible mistake. De
rplte her predicament, tears of joy
filled Enid's eyes. A wish in
spired by the bestial character dis
played by the Big Shot had come
true!
"You’ve proved it!” Her words
came in little more than a broken
whisper. "Yes, you’ve proved it!
And I’m glad, glad, glad—glad that
Roy is over there— under the
ground—glad that the Roy I loved
is dead, rather than that he should
be you!"
■Go on, help yourself!” The Big
Shot leered at her savagely. "That's
your only play! Keep on pulling it
if you like—but it won’t get you
anywhere! It won’t wipe out what
you did to us last night, or the
boast of that mouthy pal of yours,
who was telling the world he was
going to ride me to the chair.
You-” He stopped abruptly.
Enid had heard It, too—thesounfi
cf footsteps on the iront stoop, one j
stole a glance at Phil—and, though j
It was forced through tightened lips
was answered with a heartening:
r.mile.
The Big Shot crossed the room,
unlocked the door, and flung itj
open. “Here you are, boys!” he
called gruffly. “Come on In here!”
And then Enid, watching tensely,
saw two men she did not know step
into the room and, following them.
Jzzv Myers—but Izzy Myers, with
a queer squeaking cry of rage and
rurprlse, had halted before he had
barely crossed the threshold.
“Jphil Martin!” he squeaked.
“And Sister!" added the Big Shot
with a coarse laugh. “But I for
got—you’d never seen her. Meet
her now, Izzy—sometimes she dress
es up the way she did for Batty
Rose last night!"
Gawd!" Izzy Myers’ voice was
a husky whisper now. He was
rubbing his hands unctuously to
gether. his tongue was circling his
bearded lips greedily. Then, catch
ing sight of the Big Shot’s bare
loot, he gave a strangled gulp.
“Wot the hell!'' he muttered.
“That’s all right!" said the Big
Shot curtly. “I'll wise you up about
it later." And then the telephone
rang: “Answer that, Izzy, while I
get my shoe on. And you two
help Mr. Martin to stand up—he
doesn’t feel very well!"
Enid's eyes, in a helpless, invol
untary way, went around the room.
The two men had Jerked Phil un
ceremoniously to his feet and had
shoved him back agaihst the wall:
the Big Shot had flung himself
into the desk chair again and was
pulling on his sock and shoe. Izzy
Myers had picked up the telephone
and was speaking.
"Hello!” he said. “. . . . No, it’s
Izzy talking. Yes, he's here. Go on,
spill It! I'll tell him!”
There was a long silence while
Izzy listened, then he turned to the
Big Shot. "It’s Wilkie” he said
"He says he telephoned here once
before tonight. He says he’s got
the low-down slipped to him by
Some friends of ours that Twisty’t
going l/U uu ua wm **&»*"• '
Kays he's dead sure Twisty's go'
something up his sleeve, and want!
to know if you don't think he t
better call the trucks off?”
The Big Shot, from lacing hi
shoe, looked up contemptuously
"Tell him to forget it!” he snapped
"We know all about it! Twisty'
trying to make a monkey of us b;
getting us to quit cold—and thei
giving us the laugh. That's all he’
got the nerve to do .anyhow. Aa
Wilkie what he’s worrying abou
The trucks will be double-mannet
Just to make sure, and word «
that will get back to Twisty faf
enough. Tell him to go to i
that we're running tonight—and b
damned to Twisty!"
Izzy Myers repeated the messag
and hung up the receiver. ‘ Whs
are you going to do with thes
two?" he demanded.
“But the trucks'll be there!” Izz
Myers's crooked shoulders attempt
ed expostulation; he wagged h
head dubiously.
“What’s that got to do with it?
rasped the Big Shot. “They 11 t
there long before the trucks—and
long time afterward! It may take
little while for this newpaper snip
tp remember where some papers ar
(that he want to know about, an
this place isn't exactly convenient
i “I get you!" said Izzy Myers.
"All right I” said the Big She
V 1 lopi t . 1 UU «UU "
them up in your car. I’ll follow you.
I’m going first for Ma Kane. I've
a hunch she'll want, to be in on
this—on account of Sister!”
"I’ll say she will!" Izzy Myers
chuckled hideously.
"All right!” said the Big Shot
again. "There are two w-ays of go
ing out of this house." He ad
dressed himself directly to Phil
now. "You two can walk out the
vay you are. or you can be carried
jut bound and gagged. It's up to
vou! If you choose the former and
nake an attempt to escape, or at
ract attention, she’ll get a bullet
hrough her to begin with; and, if.
after that, there’s any chance of
aur being caught, you'll get yours
—for then it would be all up, any
vay! What do you say?”
“I don't know what you mean,"
Phil answered coldly.
"You don't have to know—not
now!” snarled the Big Shot. "But
you heard what I said. Which
way will you go?”
But before Phil could answer,
Enid stepped toward the door. "Wo
will go the way we are,” she said.
They were taken out to the car.
A large seven-passenger sedan. A
driver was at the wheel.
Gruffly Myers ordered her into
the back seat. Phil sat in the seat
in front of her. Myers was on
her left; a gangster whom she did
not recognize sat on her right. She
noticed the Big Shot get into his
car as they drove off.
Soon they were outside the city
limits. The curtains were drawn
and she could see very little but
the uneven road told her they were
off the paved highway.
They drove on and on in silence.
Once she tried to speak to Phil
but Izzy Myers roughly ordered her
She did not know where they
were, or where or what was the
"Old Homestead" as the Big Shot
had called it was, and to which
they presumably were going. She
knew that with each minute this
ride became more full of haunting
terror and suspense.
Nor were her fears lessened by
ap occasional gleam from street
lights that penetrated the darkness
of the car. She sav; that both My
ers and the gangster held menac
ing revolvers.
She speculated upon their desti
nation and the fate that was in
store for them. Gradually it came
to her; the significance of it all
They were being taken for e
ride!
(Copyright, Frank L. Packard)
An improvised prison awaits
Enid and Phil tomorrow.
NOTICE
M. S. Northland sailing from Se
attle, March 20th, at 9 p. m Foi
freight and passenger reservation;
see D. B. Femmer, Juneau agent
Telephone 114. —adv
NOTICE OF HEARING OF
FINAL ACCOUNT
NOTICE IS HEREBY GIVE!)
that KARL THEILE, as adminis
trator of the estate of Ferdinanc
Weaver Umphrey, also known a:
Fred Umphrey. deceased, on Marc!
15, 1930. filed his final account a;
such administrator in the Unitec
States Commissioner's and ex-of
ficio Probate Court for the Juneau
Alaska, Commissioner’s Precinct, ii
Juneau, Alaska, and that said Com
missioner on said day made hi
order directing the giving of thi
notice and appointing May 19, 1930
at 10:00 o’clock A. M., as the da;
on wliich a hearing will be hai
upon any objections to said fina
account and the settlement thereof
and all persons are required t
i appear and present their objection)
jif any, to said final accovnt an
Uhe settlement thereof, or to an
particular item thereof, specifyin
the particulars of such objectior
at said time before said Commis
sioner in the United States Coui
House, at Juneau, Alaska.
Dated at Juneau, Alaska, Marc
15, 1930.
(Seal) A. W. FOX,
United State? Commissioner an
ex-officio Probate Judge.
First publication, March 17, 1930.
. Last publication, April 7, 1930.
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JACQUELINE
ON HER OWN
by RICHARD STARR
BH
CHAPTER I.
A THWARTED YOUNG MAN
Jacqueline chuckled inwardly as
she felt a hand touch hers hesi
tatingly, and then close firmly over
it.
She had waited a moment expec
tantly. She had a faint suspicion
that for several weeks past Mr.
Brown had been trying to propose
to her.
But nothing happened. Mr.
Brown continued to stare steadily
at the screen and smoke his cigar. ,
He smoked It with a desperate
earnestness, as if it were a thing
j which had to be done at all costs,
j With the same desperate earnest
! ness he continued to clutch her
! hand, but his attitude rather sug
jgested that he did not know he
was doing it.
It seemed to Jacqueline that he
! had caught hold of her hand in the
I darkness by accident.
"Perhaps he thinks it's one of his
! own,” she said to herself.
For the moment Jacqueline had
1 lost interest in the screen in the
1
a seeing eye, ana naa promoted
her to ‘ Models.”
This, from Jacqueline’s point of
view, was to the good, as it meant
an increase of salary. But Mr.
Dell's seeing eye gave promise of
making itself a nuisance if not re
strained. However, Jacqueline flat
tered herself that she could put
Mr. Dell in his place if necessary.
Mr. Brown lived out; Jacqueline
lived in. This was the weekly af
ternoon off; and four times in the
last fortnight, Mr. Brown had
asked her to accompany him to a
picture show.
Jacqueline felt that a declaration
of seme sort was hanging over her:
and, as suspense of any kind always
worried her, she was determined to
bring matters to a crisis this eve
ning if possible.
She put her bare round elbows
on the table defiantly, and nibbled
a piece of cake. The worst of
Jacqueline was that when she in
tended to be serious and business
like, she could not help looking
wistful. At these moments her soft
m
Iqi
tc
y<
;pi
n:
!w
11S
IJl
101
ck oi me warwiCKsnire nantucap.
id she's got all the rest whackeo
a standstill before she starts
ie'11 spread-eagle the field. It’s
st like picking up money, my
n.”'
Now, what on earth does he
ean by all that?" murmured Jac
leline inwardly.
A hoarse whisper sounded close
her ear: “Jacqueline, I love you!"
It was Mr. Brown, but Jacqueline
r the moment had forgotten his
rubles. She looked at Mr. Brown
cantly, and said: "Put your shirt
i Prinkipo tomorrow, my boy, and
iu’11 make a pot.”
What!” gasped Mr. Brown. .
Oh. I'm so sorry!” she returned
■nitently. “You see those two
en just going out—one of them
th a face like a horse?—well, that
what he was saying to his friend
st now, and I'm wondering what
1 earth he means by it. What’s
le Warwickshire handicap, Mr.
[■own?"
Horse-racing." answered Brown,
[he Warwickshire is tomorrow. I
At Byrams, the slender Jacqueline paraded in the newest creations for patrons to admire.
j stress of dominating events. She
looked round discreetly.
Her eyes having become accus
‘ tomed to the gloom of the London
theatre, she .perceived that Mr.
< 1 Brown had cleverly engineered her
;; to an isolated oorner.
• I She rather thought this mtSst also
be an accident. Mr. Brown did
' I not strike her as a Napoleon of
1 | strategy. But you never could tell
■ I about these quiet young men.
'1 Even a man with a chin distinct
' ly in retreat, like Mr. Brown’s,
* | sometimes had grit and even brains.
’ ! A large experience of life across a
drapery counter had taught Jacque
’ line many things—among others,
‘ that chins are very little help as an
1 index of character. She leaned
a little nearer in the friendly ob
I seurity.
"I don’t want to hurry you, Mr.
i Brown,” she said with added sweet
c ness, "but when you have quite fin
ished with my hand I should like
it back again. I want to powder
_ my nose and that takes twTo hands,
you know.”
"Huh!" remarked Mr. Brown. He
did not exactly say it, but threw it
out gratuitously into the atmos
phere, as if he were finished with
jit.
i But he released her hand, and
Jacqueline performed mystic rites
with a dainty little round card
board box and little round pad,
with which she scrubbed her nose
unmercifully. In the middle of the
operation the lights went out. Jac
queline serenely finished the treat
ment.
They repaired to a neighboring
tea-ship, Jacqueline looking rather
\ severe and still a little worried
r about her nose; Mr. William Brown
in some trouble.
He was not bad-looking, even
without a chin .... and that is
to say, without any chin worth
talking about. With a chin he
would have been approaching
handsome. He served at the drap
ery counter of Byram’s Limited,
which was officially known as an
emporium—Jacqueline had been at
II the drapery counter once, but late
,5' ly Mr. Keswick Dell, the buyer, had
™ looked at the tall, slender girl with
jrown eyes were calculated to play
lavoc with the emotional economy
Df any young man between the ages
af 20 and 60.
“Attendez, Mr. Brown!" she said.
'What!" ejaculated Mr. Brown
startled.
“I think it's French,’’ replied Jac
queline. “It means 'take notice.
Why did you hold my hand like
that Just now?”
Mr. Brown turned away, and i1
was quite obvious that he was. ir
trouble again. “Can’t I hold youi
hand?” he asked.
“Of course you can t, Mr. Brown
You ought not to need me to tel
you that."
“Why have you let me take yot
out then?” persisted Mr. Brown
with a hollow note.
“Because I’ve enjoyed it, and
thought you had."
“I have.”
“Very well then, we're quits,” sail
Jacqueline. “I let you take me t<
the pictures and spend ninepenci
on my seat because I think it';
worth ninepence to anybody ti
have the pleasure of my society. Ii
fact, it’s cheap at ninepence. Bu
that doesn’t include holding m;
hand."
There was a prolonged pause af
ter this, with Mr. Brown agaii
wrestling internally with emotiona
storms. So prolonged that Jacque
line's attention wandered.
Two men had just sat down a
the table on her left and the faci
of one of them fascinated her. I
' was exactly like the face of i
horse.
“If he looks straight at me,” shi
: said to herself, “I’m absolutely cer
tain I shall say ‘Gee up’!"
“Put your shirt on Prinkipo to
| morrow, my boy, and you'll make !
| pot,” Jacqueline heard him say
• I'm not talking for the sake o
making the air hot—I know, m;
son. Got it straight from th
horse's nosebag."
‘There!” murmured Jacqueline
“I knew his face must have comi
out of a nosebag.”
U“It’s a hundred to one chance,
ntinued the man with the faci
•like a horse; “and, take it from me
‘I'm right in the know. She's thi
I believe, but I'm not in touch with
I racing nowadays. I’ve had my
[ fling at that. It's a mug's game."
I But Jacqueline was not to be
I thwarted. There is nothing that
surpasses the resistence of a woman
| who is curious. Piecemeal she
j drew Mr. Brown out; with the air
of a man who had a lurid past
connected with the turf he reluc
tantly answered her questions.
"Girls don't understand racing,”
he said in dismissal. "Best thing
for you is to leave it alone, or
you'll burn your fingers like I did.
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v
^— —
I've heard about those tips straight
from the stable."
"But this man knows," murmured
Jacqueline with a dreamy look and
Mr. Brown might have been amazed
and startled if he had Renown
what little effect his words had in
stifling her interest in a 100-1 shot.
Mr. Brown stared at her with
the expression of a man in a hyp
notic trance. Mr. Brown's losses
seemed to have embittered him.
"What were you saying about
loving me, Mr. Brown?"
Mr. Brown jumped and pulled
himself together with an effort. "I
said I loved you, Jacqueline. I
have loved you for months; years,
I think. I have loved you ever
since you first came into the drap
ery, when we used to sit opposite
each other at nieal-times."
“Why do you love me, Mr.
Brown?”
"I . . . don’t know. A man
doesn't know why he loves a girl.
He just loves her. X like your face,
and your ways . . . and the way
you carry yourself in those Paris
models . . . And I like the color
of your eyes, and the color of your
hair, and the color of . . . of—”
"Don’t you say my nose, Mr.
Brown, or I’ll never speak to you
again.”
"I love you, Jacqueline, I love
you, my dear,” ended Mr. Brown,
looking profoundly miserable.
"Well?” said Jacqueline.
Mr. Brown blinked.
“Mr. Brown,” murmured Jacque
line, “it’s not considered the thing
to tell a girl ycu love her unless
you also tell her that you want to
marry her.”
"I do, I do,” said Brown eagerly.
"I was coming to that, Jacqueline,
but you don’t give me time.”
"That’s all right, then,” replied
Jacqueline. "So long as you had
kept it in mind. And it's very
kind of you to love ms. Mr. Brown.
I like ’most everybody to be a little
bit fond of men, and I shall always
remember what you have said to
me with—er, gratitude.”
"And you will marry me, Jac
queline?”
i\U, l etui t niai:y yuu,
Brown. I’m very sorry to hurt your
feelings, and I hope you will find
! another nice girl whom you will
like the—the color of, and so On.”
‘‘Why won’t you marry me?” de
manded Mr. Brown hoarsely.
“Because I’m not the sort of girl
for you, and you are not the sort of
man for me, and we should never
be happy together.”
"But you ahe the sort of girl. for
me,” insisted Brown.
“You think so,” returned Jacque
line sweetly; “but you don't know
me. I may be the right color, and
all that, but you don’t know what
there is inside me. And, besides,
you're not the sort of man for me.
I hate to hurt you. Mr. Brown, but
I must tell you the truth."
(Copyright, 1930, Richard StaT)
Mr. Brown is not Jacr"o"
idea of bliss. Her r — stlc
dream is unfolded to:norro"\
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