Reel Life (Sep 1913 - Mar 1914)

V Reel Life 5 Fifteen minutes later, out of the stillness, rang a shot. There followed shouts, hurrying feet, lights. On the floor lay the stranger clutching his ill-gained money with dying grip. Over him, like a person startled out of sleep, stood Johnson — in his hand the dead man's revolver. "Arrest my father for murder ! Don, they're crazy." In the bare little room, early dawn disclosed no sign of recent tragedy save that in the girl's face, as she stood clasping desperately at the man's arm for support. "Don't be frightened, dear. Of course it will all be explained. But, on the face of it, you can't blame the sheriff. He had been playing himself, and was the last man to leave the room. No one saw them after that until — the thing happened." She shuddered, but the man straightened his shoulders. "Clara, do you realize, this will be my first case, and I'm going to win. You ■musn't be afraid. Tell me again, just what your father told you. Don't forget anything." The girl caught her breath and repeated mechanically. "He said he doesn't remember what happened. He'd fallen asleep. He had been drinking." McDonald insisted "Surely there must be something else. We know your father didn't shoot that man, but we've got to prove it. Think again, are you sure you've not forgotten something?" ■ "There was nothing more," she answered shaking her head, "except that the cards went against him. He lost every bit of money he had, even his watch." "His watch. Where is it? He didn't have it at the jail, I know, because in hurrying ' had left mine, and I had to ask the time." The young lawyer stopped abruptly, and then after a moment continued as if thinking to himself. "When they ran in after the shot, the money was here. He had kept hold of that. And if that man won your father's watch, why wasn't that found, too? Why, I helped the sheriff search the room." Again his glance swept the four bare walls and the plain deal table. "Clara, somebody took that watch. Someone else must have come into the room when they stopped playing." She turned to him suddenly. "You mean that tliat person did the shooting?" "It must be that," he exclaimed, words fairly tripping one another in his excitement. "See here, Clara, that man — Stokes he called himself — was a sharper. The cards left on the table were marked. Stokes had a partner, but he didn't join the game. He was to keep people away while Stokes did the fleecing. Then your father collapsed. He had been taking more than was good for him. The second man came in ; the two quarrelled, probably about dividing the money. The partner took the watch, and Stokes pulled his gun. In some way No. 2 got hold of it and shot Stokes, saw his chance, and beat it through the window." "But who was it?" the girl insisted. "I don't know, but we'll find him. He couldn't have left town. There isn't another train till nine o'clock and it's only six now. I've got three hours to locate my man. No one suspects him ; your father was arrested and he's counting on making a clean get-away unnoticed. Clara, you remember there was a crowd yesterday afternoon from the Westbound? You were helping at the desk. Did that man Stokes come with any one?" "No, but we were crowded and I remember his offering to share with another man. Then two salesmen who were leaving on the sleeper gave up their rooms early, so we put that other man in No. 27. "Would you recognize him?" Clara nodded. "Yes, if I saw him again." "Good," McDonald spoke decisively. "You see, it looks as if that man must feel pretty safe, with your father arrested. So he expects to leave town without attracting attention. He'll take the watch with him, because he won't dare leave it behind. We musn't do anything to let him guess we suspect him, or he might try to get rid of the watch, and that's our only clue." Two hours later, when the hotel 'bus started for the train, the voyagers were surprised to see Clara Johnson enter the wagon. The last night's shooting was on every tongue, so that with her appearance, conversation halted abruptly. At the station, as Clara was joined by the young attorney, rumors went a-flying. "They've telegraphed to Denver for a bii^ lawyer," every one told every one else. Thereupon people shook their heads, "Looks bad, y' know.'" And it did look bad to Don just then, for the man from Room 27 was not in the group on the planform. "He sent for his bill this morning, and didn't wait for breakfast," Clara whispered. The gambler's partner could not have left town, Don argued to himself, but here was the train already due, and where was the man ? As with a long whistle, the Westbound announced its arrival, the door of the barber shop opposite the station opened, and a man, bag in hand, made a hurried dash for the train. Clara grabbed Don's arm. "That's the one." The young lawyer ran at full speed; colliding with his intended victim, throwing him to the ground, with Don setited on his chest. Instantly a crowd gathered, shouting questions, threatening to interfere. But Don paid no heed. With one hand clutching the stranger's throat, the other searched his pockets. A minute's racking suspense, then, with a cry of triumph, Don flung his free arm high into the air, and shouted, "We've got you. Here is Sid Johnson's watch." Not Like Mother Made Johnny and his mother were dining with a friend. The first course was chicken soup with macaroni in it. The hostess watched Johnny as he sat quietly gazing into his plate. Finally she asked: "Why don't you eat your soup, Johnny?" "I don't care for it please ma'am." "But your mamma said you liked chicken soup." "I do like mamma's chicken soup, but she don't put the windpipes in."— Judge.