Boy's Cinema (1935-39)

Every Tuesday you remember Jack Swift, who struck the trail East to marry a girl and become a shopkeeper Chicago way, don't you ? Well, his wife died, and then he died, and the kid's an orphan now." Queenie looked shrewdly into a hand- some but worried face, yet was not entirely convinced. "Say, is this on the level ?" she asked. "Absolutely!" he assured her. "And, Queen, old Spurs Hawkins said you might be willing to help. Him and Hank are out there at the shack, ridin' herd on the little fellow right now till I get back." Queenie- made a grimace, knowing the rough ways of cowboys. "The poor little thing!" she ex- claimed. "What is it you need?" Ken told her of what had happened at the junction the night before. "So I need everything," he wound up. " Clothes, nursing-bottles—well, you know a darn sight better'n I do !" He fished some notes from the pocket of his shirt and pressed them into her hand. "Take this along with you," he said. "Don't be particular about the cost." "All right," she decided. "I'll do it, Ken. You wait here for me—I'll be back as soon as possible." "Queenie," said Ken with heartfelt gratitude, "you're swell ! Hi, but—er— don't forget some—er—don't forget to get some—some of them white bandanas. You know." Queenie would not have forgotten napkins, anyway, but she nodded under- standing^. "All right, Ken," she said—and went, off to change her frock. A Chance for Motley THE firm of^ attorneys who had written to Ken in such misleading terms from far-away Chicago had a reputation for honest dealing of which they were proud, but the agent in Sicoma City, selected at a venture from an official law list, was not worthy to represent them. His name was Uriah Potts, as they had mentioned in the letter, and his office* was situated in Main Street, not very far from the town hall. He was a lean-faced man with almost cadaver- ous cheeks and a hawk-like nose, upon which his spectacles were usually lowered so that he could look over their rims. It was none to his credit that he acted for John Motley; but John Motley was a useful client, paying well for advice which enabled him to do all manner of underhand things without actually breaking the law. While Queenie Moore was making purchases on Ken's behalf, Uriah Potts sat at nn old-fashioned roll-top desk in his dusty office, listening to Motley. "So you see," said the smooth- tongued rascal, "we've simply got to get hold of Ken Armstrong's claim by fair means or—or other means." Uriah Potts sat patting his hands against each other in a seemingly abstracted fashion, and this annoyed his client, who suddenlv exploded : "What's the matter, Potts? You're not paying any attention!" The attorney's thin lips parted in an inscrutable smile, and he reached across the desk to take up a bundle of papers tied with pink tape. "Ken Armstrong's got a bigger gold- mine in these legal documents," he said, "than you have in all your holdings put together !" "What d'you mean?" demanded Motley, staring at the bundle in blank astonishment. "What are they?" "Just a few documents," Potts re- plied, unfastening the pink tape, " in- BOY'S CINEMA When I've finished with you," rasped Motley, snatching Ken's guns from their holsters, "you'll wish you hadn't been born ! " eluding—and concerning—the last will and testament of one Jack Swift— deceased." He opened out the probate of the v. i 1 ! to which he had referred and tossed it to his client. "It seem.'-," he continued, "that the said Jack Swift had managed to acquire the said fortune a* well as an infant son. The child has been sent to Ken. according to ray information, and when the proper legal steps have been com- pleted he will become the sole adminis- trator of the entire estate—and that, mind you, without any sort of bond or interference." John Motley frowned at the probate. "Isn't there some way wo can cut in on this?" he asked. "There is—definitely," Potts replied. "Swift drew his own will, without the aid of any lawyer, and, although he specifically directed that the child be sent to Ken Armstrong, he also very clearly states "—he repossessed himself of the document and ran a finger down it—"well, here it is: 'When my son Dick has been legally adopted the foster-father shall become sole adminis- trator,' and so on and so forth." "Well, I still don't see.'; "His foster-father," said Potts^ sig- nificantly, "not necessarily Ken— although that was Swift's intention. Any man who legally adopts " "Oh, I get you !" Motley beamed with delight. "In this case it will be me? All right, you fix up the legal details and I'll get the child." Uriah Potts raised a restraining hand. "Not so fast," he said. "Not so fast ! We can't do it with kidnapping, or force. Just drop a gentle hint to the Ladies' Society that Ken Armstrong is not a fit person to have 'the child, and let them start the rumpus. Then we'll get old Justice of the Peace Simpkins to issue an order, and the child will be turned over to a proper person—in this case, yourself I" Motley left the attorney's office very well satisfied with the interview, and on the boardwalk in Main Street he encountered Tillie Tilks and Amanda Witherspoon, who had evidently been shopping, since they were carrying parcels. Just ahead of them was Queenie Moore, still more laden, and the two had been trailing her for the past ten minutes. "Good-morning, Miss Tilks," greeted Motley, raising his hat. "Can 1 have a word with you ?" "You follow that hussy, Amanda." said the tall and shrewdish-looking spinster to her companion. "Well, Mr. Motley?" "Miss Tilks," responded the schemer, "you being president of the Sicoma City Ladies' Literary and Cultural Advance- ment Society, I feel there is something you must know." In the ordinary way, Tillie Tilks would have listened quite greedily to anything he had to impart, but at' the moment there was another matter on her mind. "And you being a leading citizen of our fair city," she instantly returned, "there is something that von should know, Mr. Motley. That dance-hall woman, along there, has been in every store in town buying baby clothes!" "Queenie buying baby clothes!" Motley exclaimed. "For what?" "That's exactly what we intend to find out !" Motley twisted the ends of Ids mous- tache. "I wonder!" he breathed. "Of course, Miss Tilks, you know that Ken Armstrong has a baby at his shack up at the mine ':" "Ken Armstrong!" she gasped. "A baby !" "Yes." "Oh, but Ken Armstrong " She broke off as Amanda Witherspoon came flying along the boardwalk from the February 29th, 1930.