Drumright Evening Derrick (Drumright, Okla.), Vol. 2, No. 127, Ed. 1 Saturday, June 10, 1916 Page: 2 of 8
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DRUMRIGHT EVENING DERRICK
eW>DI(X
#-FPANCIS LYNDE
MU5TM0N5#CDM10I£S
CO°Y/?/GHr AY CHAM f J lCA>/A/rr/,
SYNOPSIS.
Kenneth Grlswold, an unsuccessful
•writer, because of socialistic tendencies,
holds lip Andrew Galbraith, president of
1he Bayou Btste Securities, In the presi-
dent's private olttee and escapes with $h>0,-
0U0 In < ash. By original methods lie es-
capes the hue and cry and coes aboard
the Belle Julie aa i deckhand. Charlotte
Fnrnham of Wahaska, Minn who had
•sen hlin ca«h Qalhralth's check In the
bank, rerognlz<H him, and decides to de-
nounce him. She the brutal mate
rescued from drowning by Grlswold. She
talks to Grlswold and by his advice sends
* letter of betrayal to Oalbralth anony-
mously. Grlswold Ih arrested en the ar-
rival of the boat at St. I-*)ula. but escanes
from his captors. He decides on \Va-
tiaska, Minn, as a hiding place, and after
outfitting himself properly, takes tin
train Margery Grlerson. daughter of
J as per Grlerson, the financial magnate of
wanaaka. starts a campaign for social
recognition by the "old families" of the
town, Grlswold falls 111 on the sleeper
#Jid Is cared for and taken to her homo
In Wahaska by Margery, who finds the
stolen money in his suitcase. Broffln,
detective, takes the trail. Margery asks
her father to get Edward Hammer Into
financial hot water and then help him
out of It Grlswold recovers to And the
stolen money gone, lie meets Margery's
•o< ial circle and forms a friendship with
Raymer, th© Iron manufacturer.
CHAPTER XIV.—Continued.
"Maurice, I've got to find that young
woman If I have to chase her half way
round the globe, and It's tough luck to
figure out that If you hadn't been In
such a blazing h—1 of a hurry to
get your supper that night, I might be
able to catch up with her In the next
(orty-eight hours or so. But what's
done Is done, and can't be helped.
Chase out and get your passenger
list for that trip. We'll take the wom-
en as they come, and when you've
helped me cull out the names of the
ones you're sure It wasn't, I'll screw
my nut and quit buzzing you."
The clerk went below and returned
almost Immediately with the list. To-
gether they went over It carefully, and
by dint of much memory-wringing
Maurice was able to give the detec-
tive leave to cancel ten of the 17
names In the women's list, the remain-
ing seven including all the might-have-
beens who could possibly be fitted
Into the clerk's recollection of the
woman he had seen clinging to the
saloon deck stanchion after her inter-
view with the deckhand.
It was while he was waiting for the
departure of the first northbound
train that he planned the starch for
the young woman, arranging the
names of the seven might-have-beens
In the order of accessibility as indi-
"I've Got to Find That Young Woman
If I Chase Her 'Round the Globe."
cated by the addresses given in the
Belle Julie's register. In this arrange-
ment Miss Charlotte Farnham's name
stood as No. 1.
Landing in Wahaska the next eve-
ning, Ilroflln's first request at the ho-
tel counter was for the directory. Run-
ning au eager linger down the "F's,"
he came to the name. It was the only
Farnham In the list, and after It he
read: "Dr. Herbert C„ office 8 to 10,
2 to 4, 201 Main St., res. 16 Lake
boulevard."
Then he registered for a room and
prepared to draw the net which he
hoped would entangle the loBt iden-
tity of the bank robber. After a good
night's sleep In a real bed, he awoke
refreshed and alert, breakfasted with
an open mind, and presently went
about the net drawing methodically
and with every contingency carefully
provided for.
The first step was to assure him-
self beyond question that Miss Farn-
ham was the writer of the unsigned
letter. This step he was able, by a
piece of great good fortune, to take
almost Immediately. A bit of morn-
ing gossip with the obliging clerk of
the Winnebago houso developed the
fact that Doctor Farnham's daughter
had once taught In the free kinder-
garten which was one of the chari-
table outreachings of the Wahaska
public library. Two blocks east and
on« south; Broffin walked them
promptly, made himself known to the
librarian as a visitor Interested In kin-
ccvrmcNr ev n scs/onm sons
| dergarten work, and was cheerfully
shown the records. When he turned
to the pages signed "Charlotte Farn-
ham" the last doubt vanished and
assurance was made sure. The anony-
mous letter writer was found.
It was just here that Matthew Brof-
fln fell under the limitations of Ills
trade. Though the detective In real life
Is as little as may be like the Inspector
Buckets and the Javerts of fiction, cer-
tain characteristics persist. When he
found himself face to face with the
straightforward expedient, the craft
limitations bound htm. He thought of
a dozen good reasons why he should
make haste Blowly; and he recognized
in none of them the craftsman's slant
toward Indirection—the tradition of
the trade which discounts the straight-
forward attack and puts a premium
upon the methods of the deer-stalker.
Sooner or later, of course, the at-
tack must be made. But only an ap-
prentice, he told himself, would be
foolish enough to make It without
mapping out all the hazards of the
ground over which it must be made.
In a word, he must "place" Miss Farn-
ham precisely; make a careful study
of the young woman and her environ-
ment, to the end that every thread of
advantage should be In his hands when
he should finally force her to a con-
fession. For by now the assumption
that sh« knew the mysterious bank
robber was no longer hypothetical In
Broffln's mind; It had grown to the di-
mensions of a conviction.
With the patient curiosity of his
tribe he suffered no detail, however,
trivial, to escape Its Jotting down. To
familiarize himself with the goings
and comings of one young woman, he
made the acquaintance of an entire
town. He knew Jasper Grlerson's am-
bition, and Its fruitage in the practical
ownership of Wahaska. He knew that
Edward Itaymer had borrowed money
from Grlerson's bank—and was likely
to be unable to pay It when his notes
fell due. He had heard It whispered
that there had once been a love affair
between young Raymer and Miss Farn-
ham, and that It had been broken off
by Raymer's Infatuation for Margery
Grlerson. Also, last and least impor-
tant of all the gossiping details, as It
seemed at the time, he learned that
the betwitching Miss Grlerson was a
creature of fads; that within the past
month or two she had returned from a
Florida trip, bringing with her a Blck
man, a total stranger, who had been
picked up on the train, taken to the
great house on the lake shore and
nursed back to life as Miss Grlerson's
latest defiance of the conventions.
It should have been a memorable
day for Matthew Broffin when he had
this Biclc man pointed out to him as
Miss Grlerson's companion In the high
trap. But Broffin was sufficiently hu-
man to see only a very beautiful young
woman sitting correctly erect on the
slanting driving-seat. To be sure, he
saw a man, as one sees a vanishing fig-
ure in a kaleidoscope. But there was
nothing in the clean-shaven face of the
gaunt, and as yet rather haggard, con-
valescent to evoke the faintest thrill
of interest—or of memory.
CHAPTER XV.
In the Burglar-Proof.
A week and a day after the opening
of new vistas at Miss Grierson's "eve-
ning." Grlswold—Raymer's Interces-
sion with the Widow Holcomb having
paved the way—took a favorable op-
portunity of announcing his Intention
of leaving Mereslde. It figured as a
grateful disappointment to him—one
of the many she was constantly giving
him—that Margery placed no obstacles
In the way of the Intention. On the
contrary, she approved the plan.
"I know how you feel," she said,
nodding complete comprehension.
"You want to have a place that you
can call your own; a place where you
can go and come aB you please and
settle down to work. You are going
to work, aren't you!—on the book, 1
mean?"
Grlswold replaced In Its proper
niche the volume he had been reading.
It was Adam Smith's "Wealth of Na-
tions," and he had been wondering by
what ironical chance it had found a
place In the banker's library.
"Yes; that is what I mean to do,"
he returned. "But It will have to be
done in such scraps and parings of
time as I can save from some bread-
and-butter occupation. One must eat
to live, you know."
She was sitting on the arm of one
of the big library lounging-chairs and
looking up at him with n smile that
was suspiciously Innocent and child-
like.
"You mean that you will have to
work for your living?" she asked.
"Exactly."
"What were you thinking of doing?"
"I don't know," he confessed.
Again he surprised the lurking
smile In the velvety eyes, but this time
it was half-mischievous.
"We have a college here In Wahas-
ka, and you might get a place on the
faculty," she suggested; adding; "As
an instructor In philosophy, for exam-
ple."
"Philosophy? that Is the one thing
In the world that I know least about"
"Oh, but I do mean It, honestly," she
averred "You are a philosopher,
really and truly, and I can prove It.
Do you feel equal to another little
drive downtown?"
"Being a philosopher, I ought to be
equal to anything," he postulated; and
he went upstairs to get a street coat
and his hat.
She had disappeared when he came
down again, and he went out to sit on
the sun-warmed veranda while he wait-
ed He had already forgotten what
she had said about the object of the
drive—the proving of the philosophic
charge against him—and was looking
forward with keenly pleasurable an-
ticipations to another outing with her,
the second for that day. It had come
to this, now; to admitting frankly the
charm which he was still calling Bensu-
ous, and which, in the moments of in-
sight recurring, as often as they can
be borne to the imaginative, and
vouchsafed now aO(| .then even to the
wayfaring, he was still disposed to
characterize as an appeal to that
which was least worthy in him.
Passing easily to Miss Farnham the
Ideal from Miss Grlerson the flesh-and-
blood reality, he was moved to won-
der mildly why the fate which had
brought him twice into critically Inti-
mate relations with her was now deny-
ing bim even a chancy meeting. For a
week or more he baa been going out
dally; sometimes with Miss Grlerson
in the trap, but oftener afoot and
"Open That Box on the Table, Please."
alone. The walking excursions had
led him most frequently up and down
the lakeside drive, but the doctor's
house stood well back in its enclosure,
and there was much shrubbery. Once
he heard her voice: Bhe was reading
aloud to someone on the vine-screened
porch. And once again In passing, he
had caught a glimpse of a shapely arm
with the loose sleeve falling away
from it as it was thrust upward
through the porch greenery to pluck
a bud from the crimson rambler, add-
ing Its graceful mass to the clamber-
ing vines. It was rather disappoint-
ing, but he was not Impatient. In the
fullness of time the destiny which hnd
twice intervened would intervene
again. He was as certain of it as he
was of the day-to-day renewal of his
strength and vitality; and he could af-
ford to wait. For, whatever else might
happen in a mutable world, neither an
ideal nor its embodiment may suffer
change.
As if to add the touch of definiteness
to the presumptive conclusion, a voice
broke in upon his reverie; the voice of
the young woman whose most alluring
charm was her many-sided changeful-
ness, as If she had marked his preoc-
cupied gaze and divined its object:
"You must have a little more patience,
Mr. Grlswold. All things come to him
who waits. When you have left Mere-
side finally, Doctor Bertie will some
time take you home to dinner with
him."
For his own peace of mind, Grls-
wold hastily assured himself that It
was only the wildest of chance shots.
Since the day when he had admitted
that he knew Miss Farnham's name
without knowing Miss Farnham in per-
son, the doctor's daughter had never
been montloned between them.
"How did you happen to guess that
I was thinking of the good doctor?" he
asked, curiously.
"You were not thinking of Doctor
Bertie; you were thinking of Doctor
Bertie's 'only,' " was the laughing con-
tradiction; and Grlswold was glad that
the coming of the man with the trap
saved him from the necessity of fall-
ing any farther Into what might easily
prove to be a dangerous pitfall. It was
not the first time that Miss Grlerson
had seemed able to read his Inmost
thoughts.
The short afternoon drive paused
at the curb in front of Jasper Grler-
son's bank and a moment later he
found himself bringing up the rear of
a procession of three, led by a young
woman with a bunch of keys at her
girdle.
"Number three-forty-flve-A, please,"
his companion wa saying to the young
woman custodian, and he stood aside
and admired the workmanship of the
complicated time-locks while the two
entered the electric-lighted safety de-
posit vault and Jointly opened one of
the multitude of small safes. When
Miss Grlerson came out, she was car-
rying a Bmall, Japanned document box
under her arm, and her eyes were
shining with a Boft light that was new
to the man who was waiting in the
corridor. "Come with me to one of
the coupon rooms," sho said; and
then to the custodian: "You needn't
stay; I'll ring when we want to be let
out "
Grlswold followed In mild bewilder-
ment when she turned aside to one of
the little mahogany-lined cells set
npart for the use of the safe-holders,
saw her press the button which
switched the lights on, and mechani-
cally obeyed her signal to close the
door. When their .complete privacy
was assured, she put the japanned box
on the tiny table and motioned him to
one of the two chairs.
"Do you know why I have brought
you here?" she asked, when he was
Bitting within arm'e-reach of the small
black box.
"How should I?" he said. "You take
me where you please, and when you
please, and 1 ask no questions. I am
too well content to be with you to
care very much about the whys and
wherefores."
"Oh, how nicely you say it!" she
commended, with the frank little
laugh which he had come to know and
to seek to provoke. She was standing
against the opposite cell wall with her
shoulders squared and her hands be-
hind her: the poBe, whether intention-
al or natural, was dramatically perfect
and altogether bewitching. "I was
born to be your fairy godmother, I
think," she went on Joyously. "Tell
me; when you bought your ticket to
Wahaska that night In St. Louis, were
you meaning to come here to find
work?"
"No," he admitted; "I had money,
then."
"What became of It?"
"I don't know. I suppose It was
stolen from me on the train. It was In
a package in one of my suitcases; and
Doctor Farnham said—"
"I know; also he told you that we
didn't find any money?"
"Yes; he told me that, too. We
agreed that somebody must have gone
through the grips on the train."
"So you Just let the money go?"
"So I Just let It go."
She was laughing again and the be-
dazzling eyes were dancing with de-
light.
"I told you I was going to prove that
you are a philosopher!" Bhe exultefl.
"Sour old Diogenes himself couldn't
have been more superbly Indifferent to
the goods the gods provide. Open that
box on the table, please."
He did it half-absently; at the first
sight of the brown-paper packet with-
in, the electric bulb suspended over
the table seemed to grow black and
the mahogany walls of the tiny room
to spin dizzily. Then, with a click
that he fancied he could hear, the buz-
zing mental machinery stopped and
reversed Itself. A cold Bweat, clammy
and sickening, started out on him
when he realized that the reversal had
made him once again the crafty, cor-
nered criminal, ready to fight or fly—
or to slay, if a life stood In the way of
escape. Without knowing* what he did,
he closed the box and got upon his
feet, eyeing her with a growing feroc-
ity that he could neither banish nor
control.
"I see: you were a little beforehand
with the doctor," he said, and he
strove to say it naturally; to keep the
malignant devil that was whispering
in his ear from dictating the tone as
well as the words.
"I was, Indeed; several days before-
hand," she boasted, still Joyously ex-
ultant
"You—you opened the package?" he
went on, once more pushing the im-
portunate devil aside."
"Naturally. How else would I have
known that it was worth locking up?"
Her coolness astounded him. If she
knew the whole truth—and the demon
at his ear was aBsuring him that she
must know it—she must also know
that she was confronting a great
peril; the peril of one who voluntarily
shuts himself into a trap with the fear-
maddened wild thing for which the
trap was baited and set. He was
steadying himself with a hand on the
table when he said: "Well, you opened
the package; what did you find out?"
"What did I find out?" He heard her
half-hesitant repetition of his query,
and for one flitting instant he made
sure that he saw the fear of death In
the wide-open eyes that were lifted to
his. But the next instant the eyes
were laughing at him, and she was
going on confidently. "Of course, as
soon as I untied the string I saw it
was money—a lot of money; and you
can Imagine that I tied it up again,
quickly, and didn't lose any more time
than I could help in putting it away
in the safest place I could think of.
Every day since you began to get well,
I've been expecting you to say some-
thing about it; but as long as you
wouldn't, 1 wouldn't."
Slowly the blood came back Into the
saner channels, and the whispering
demon at his ear grew less articulate.
He took the necessary forward step
and stood before her. And his answer
was no answer at all.
"Miss Grlerson—Margery—are you
telling me the truth?—all of it?" he de-
manded, seeking to pinion the soul
which lay beyond the deepest depth
of the limpid eyes.
Her laugh was as cheerful as a bird
song.
"Telling you the truth? How could
you suspect me of such a thing! No,
my good friend; no woman ever tells
a man the whole truth when she can
help it. I didn't And your money, and
I didn't lock K up In poppa's vault: I
am merely playing a part In a deep
and diabolical plot to—"
Grlswold forgot that he was her poor
beneficiary; forgot that she had taken
him in as her guest; forgot, in the
mad Joy of the reactionary moment
everything that he should have remem-
bered—saw nothing, thought of noth-
ing save the flushed face with Its glo-
rious eyes and tempting lips: the eyes
and lips of the iVisbWr pf nan-
She broke away from him hotly
after he had taken the flushed fi.ee be-
tween his bands and kissed her; broke
away to drop Into the chair at the
other side of the table, hiding the
flashing eyes and the burning cheeks
and the quivering lips In the crook of
a round arm which made room for It-
self on the narrow table by pushing
the Japanned money-box off the oppo-
site edge
It was the normal Grlswold who
picked up the box and put It on the
other chair, gravely and methodically.
Then he stood before her again with
his back to the wall, waiting for what
every gentle drop of blood In his veins
was telling him he richly deserved.
His punishment was long In coming;
bo long that when he made sure she
was crying, he began to Invite it
"Say It," he suggested gently, "you
needn't spare me at all. The only ex-
cuse 1 could offer would only make the
offense still greater."
She looked up quickly and the dark
eyes were swimming. But whether the
tears were of anger or only of outraged
generosity he could not tell.
"Then there was an excuse?" she
flashed up at him.
"No," he denied, as one who finds
the second thought the worthier;
"there was no excuse."
She had found a filmy bit of lace-
bordered linen at her belt and was
furtively wiping her lips with it.
"I thought perhaps you might be
able to—to invent one of some sort,"
she said, and her tone was as colorless
as the gray skies of an autumn night-
fall. And then, with a childlike appeal
in the wonderful eyes: "I think you
will have to help me a little—out of
your broader experience, you know.
What ought I to do?"
His reply came hot from the refining
fire of self-abasement.
"You should write me down as one
who wasn't worthy of your lovlng-kind-
ness and compassion, Miss Grlerson.
Then you should call the custodian
and turn me out."
"But afterward." she persisted
pathetically. "There must be an after-
ward."
"X am leaving Mereslde this eve-
ning," he reminded her. "It will be
for you to say whether Its doors shall
ever open to me again."
She took the thin safety-deposit key
from her glove and laid it on the ta-
ble.
"You, have made me wish there
hadn't been any money," she lamented,
with a sorrowful little catch in her
voice that stabbed him like a knife. "I
haven't so many friends that I can af-
ford to lose them recklessly, Mr. Grls-
wold."
"Damn the money!" he exploded;
and the malediction came out of a full
heart.
Her fingers had found the bell-push
and were pressing It. When the cus-
todian opened the door, Miss Grlerson
was her poiseful self again.
"Number three-forty-five-A is Mr.
Kenneth Griswold's box, now," she an-
nounced briefly. "Please register it in
his name, and then help him to put it
away and lock It up."
Grlswold went through the motions
with the key-bearing young woman
half-absently. Man-like, he was ready
to be forgiven and comforted; and
there was at least oblivion in her
charming little shudder as the custo-
dian shot the bolts of the gate to let
them out.
"Br-r-r!" she shivered, "I can never
stand here and look at the free people
out there without fancying myself in
a prison. It must be a dreadful thing
to be shut away behind bolts and bars,
forgotten by everybody, and yet your-
self unable to forget. Do you ever
have such foolish thoughts, Mr. Gris-
wold?"
For one poignant second fear leaped
alive again and he called himself no
befter than a lost man. But the eyes
that were lifted to his were the eyes
of a questioning child, so guilelessly in-
nocent that he immediately suffered
another relapse Into the pit of self-de-
splslngs.
"You have made me your prisoner,
Miss Grlerson," he said, speaking to
his own thought rather than to he.'
question. And when they reached the
sidewalk and the trap: "May I bid you
good-by here and go to my own place?"
"Of course not!" she protested. "Mr.
Raymer is coming to dinner tonight
and he will drive you over to Mrs. Hol-
comb's afterward, if you really think
you must go "
And for the first time in their com-
ings and goings she let him lift her to
the high driving-seat.
CHAPTER XVI.
Converging Roads.
Matthew Broffin had been two weeks
and half of a third an unobtrusive spy
upon the collective activities of the
Wahaskan social group which includ-
ed the Farnhams before he decided
that nothing could be gained by fur-
ther delay.
Having his own private superstition
about Friday, Broffin chose a Wednes-
day afternoon for his call at the house
on the lake front. It was a resplen-
dent day of the early summer, which,
In the Minnesota latitudes, springs,
Minervalike, full grown from the nod-
ding head of the wintry Jove of the
North. In the doctor's front yard the
grass was vividly green, gladioli and
Jonquils bordered the path with a
bravery of color, and the buds of the
clambering rose on the porch trellis
were swelling to burst their calyxes.
Broffin turned In from the sidewalk
and closed the gate noiselessly behind
him. While he had been three doors
away In the lake-fronting Btreet, a
small pocket binocular had assured
him that the young woman he was
going to call upon was Bitting in a
porch rocker behind the clambering
rcsa, reading a book.
She had risen to meet tin.
time he had mounted the step*, ana
he knew that her first glance was ap-
praisive. He had confidently couuted
upon being mistaken for a strange pa-
tient in search of the doctor, and ha
was not disappointed.
"You are looking for Doctor Fariv
ham?" she began. "He is at hi* of-
fice—201 Main street."
Broffin was digging in bis pockeft
for a card.
"I know well enough where your
father's office is, but you are the one*
I wanted to see," he said; and he
gave her the round-cornered card wltb
its blazonment of his name and em-
ployment
He was watching her narrowly when
she read the name and its underline,
and the quick lndrawing of the breath
and the little shudder that went witli
it were not thrown away upon him.
But the other signs; the pressing of
the even teeth upon the lower lip and
the coming and going of three straight
lines between the half-closed eyesr
were not so favorable.
"Will you come into the house.
Mr.—" she had to look at the card
again to get the name—"Mr. Broffin?"
she asked.
"Thank you, miss; It's plenty good
enough out here for me If it is for
you", he returned, beginning to fear
that the common civilities were giv-
ing her time to get behind her de-
fenses.
"I guess we can take it for granted
that you know what I want, Misn
Farnham," he began abruptly, when
he had shifted his chair to face her
rocker. "Something like three months
ago, or thereabouts, you went Into a
bank In New Orleans to get a draft
cashed. While you were at the pay
Ing tellers' window a robbery was
committed, and you saw it done and'
saw the man that did It. I've com®
to get you to tell me the man'*
name."
"I have told it once, In a letter to
Mr. Galbraith."
Broffin nodded. "Yes; In a letter
that you didn't sign. I've come alf.
the way from New Orleans to get
you to tell me his real name, Mls&
Farnham."
"Why do you think I can tell you?"
was the undisturbed query.
"A lot of little things," said the de-
tective, who was slowly coming to hia
own in the matter of self-assurance.
"In the first place, be spoke to you
in the bank, and you answered him.
Isn't that so?"
She nodded again. "You know so
much, It Is surprising that you don't
know it all, Mr. Broffin," she com-
mented. with gentle sarcasm.
"The one thing I don't know Is th
thing you're goin' to tell me—his real
name," he insisted. "That's what I'vo
come here for."
In spite of her inexperience, which,
in Mr. Broffln's field, waB no less than
total. Charlotte Farnham had imagi-
nation, and with it a womanly zest for
the matching of wits with a mao
•T? '
'if
"Damn the Moneyl" He Exploded.
whose chief occupation was the meas-
uring of his own wit against the subtle
cleverness of criminals. Therefore she
accepted the challenge.
"1 did my whole duty at the time.
Mr. Broffin," she demurred, with a
touch of coldness In her voice,
you were careless enough to let him
escape you at St. Louis, you shouldn't
come to me. I might say very Justly
that It was never any affair of mine."
Matthew Broffln's gifts were subtle
only in his dealings with other menjj
but he was shrewd enough to know
that his last and best chance with a
woman lay in an appeal to her fears.
" I don't know what made you write
this letter, in the first place," he Baid,
taking the well-thumbed paper from
his coat pocket; "but I know well
enough now why you didn't sign it,
and why you didn't put the man's real
name in it. You—you and him—fixed
it up between you so that you could
say to yourself afterwards what you've
Just said to me—that you'd done your
duty. But you haven't finished doin'
you duty yet. The law says—"
"I know very well that the
says," was her baffling rejoinder
have taken the trouble to find
since I came home. 1 am not hiding
your criminal."
Broffin was trying to gain a little
ease by tilting his chair. But the house
wall was too close behind him.
"People will say that you are helpin'
to hide him as long as you won't tel)
his real name—what?" he grated.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
A
j
law-
out
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Sterrett, W. S. Drumright Evening Derrick (Drumright, Okla.), Vol. 2, No. 127, Ed. 1 Saturday, June 10, 1916, newspaper, June 10, 1916; Drumright, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc147947/m1/2/: accessed April 18, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.