Colony Courier (Colony, Okla.), Vol. 2, No. 14, Ed. 1 Thursday, December 15, 1910 Page: 7 of 8
This newspaper is part of the collection entitled: Colony Courier and was provided to The Gateway to Oklahoma History by the Oklahoma Historical Society.
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GIRL
BILL
tuxfife
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NIJTERMERMN
KAY WMTER-T
IT lfO« & #6oftM«AO $
eorrv<
chApter i.
Til* Threshold of Adventure.
Tbc roar of State street filled the
ears of Robert Orme not unpleasantly.
He liked Chicago, felt towards the
western city something more than the
tolerant, patronising Interest which
so often characterizes the eastern
man. To him It was the hub of gen-
uine Americanism—young, aggressive,
perhaps a bit too cocksure, but ever
bounding along with eyes toward the
future. Here was the city of great
beginnings, the city of experiment—
experiment with life; hence Its Incom-
pleteness—an Incompleteness not dis-
similar to that of life Itself. Chi-
cago lived; it was the pulse of the
great middle west.
Orme watched the procession with
clear eyes. He had been strolling
southward from tho Masonic Temple,
Into the shopping district. The
clangor, the smoke and dust, the hur-
rying crowds, all worked Into hie
mood. The expectation of adventure
was far from him. Nor was he a man
who sought impressions for amuse-
ment; whatever came to him he weigh-
ed, and accepted or rejected according
as it was valueless or useful. Whole-
some he was; any one might infer
that from his face. Doubtless, his
fault lay In his overemphasis on the
purely practical; but that, after all,
was a lawyer’s fault, and it was
counterbalanced by a sweet kindliness
toward all the world—a loveablenoss
which mode for him a friend of every
chance acquaintance,
It was well along In the afternoon,
and shoppers were hurrying home-
ward. Orme noted the fresh beauty
of the women and girls—Chicago has
reason to be proud of her daughters
—and his heart beat a little faster.
Not that lie was a man to be caught
by every pretty stranger; but scarce-
ly recognized by himself, there was a
hidden spring of romance In his prac-
tical nature. Heart-free, he never met
a woman without wondering whether
■he was the one. He had never found
her; he did not know that he was
looking for her; yet always there was
the unconscious question.
A distant whistle, the clanging of
gongs, the rapid beat of galloping
hoofs—fire engines were racing down
the street. Cars stopped, vehicles of
■II kinds crowded In toward the curbs.
Orme paused and watched tho fire
horses go thundering by, their smo-
king chariots swaying behind them
and dropping long trails of sparks.
Bmall boys were running, men and
women were stopping- to gaze after
tho passing enginos, but Orme's at
tentlon was taken by something that
was happening near by, and as the
gongs and the hoof-boats grew fainter
he looked with Interest to tho street
beside him.
Ho had got as far as the corner of
Madison street. The scramble to get
out of the way of the englncB had
here resulted In a traffic jam. Two
policemen were moving about, shout-
ing orders for the disentanglement of
the street cars and vehicles which
^ seemed to be Inextricably wedged to-
gether.
A burly Irish teamster was bellow
Ing at his horse. Tho hind wheel of
■ smart baroucho was caught In the
tore wheel of a delivery wagon, and
the driver of the delivery wagon was
expressing his opinion of the situation
In terms which seemed to embarraee
the elderly gentleman who sat In the
barouche. Orme’s eye traveled
through the outer edge of the dis-
turbance, and sought its center.
There In the midst of the tangle
was a Mg black touring car. Us one
occupant was a girl—and such a girl!
Her fawn-colored cloak was thrown
open; her face was unveiled. Orme
was thrilled when he caught the
glory of her face—the clear skin,
browned by outdoor living; the de-
mure but regular features; the eyes
that seemed to transmute and reflect
softly all impressions from without
Orme had never seen any one like
her—so nobly unconscious of self, so
appealing and yet so calm.
She was waiting patiently, Inter-
ested In the clamor about her, but
seemingly undisturbed by her own
rart In It Orme’s eyes did not leave
her face. He was merely one of a
crowd at the curb, unnoted by her,
but when after a time, he became
aware that he was staring, he felt tho
blood rush to his cheeks, and he mut-
tered: “What a boor I am!" And
then, "But who can she be? Who can
she be?”
A policeman -made his way to the
black car. Orme saw him speak to
the girl; saw her brows knit; and he
quickly threaded his way into the
street His action was barely con-
scious, but nothing could have stopped
him at that moment.
‘You’ll have to come to the station,
miss," the policeman was saying.
“But what have 1 done?" Her voice
was broken music.
You’ve violated tho trafflo regula-
tions, and made all this trouble, that’s
what you’ve done.”
"I’m on a very important errand,"
she began, “and—”
"I can’t help that, miss, you ought
to have had some one with you that
knew the rules."
Her eyes were perplexed, and she
looked about her as if for help. For
a moment her gaze fell on Orme, who
was close to the policeman's elbow,
Now, Orme had a winning and dis-
arming smile. Without hesitation, he
touched the policeman on the shoul-
der, beamed pleasantly, and said:
“Pardon me, officer, but this car was
forced over by that dray."
"She was on the wrong side,” re-
turned the policeman, after a glance
which modified his first Intention to
take offence. "She had no business
over here."
"It was either that or a collision.
My wheel was scraped, as It was.
She, too, was smiling now.
The policeman pondered. He liked
to be called “officer;” he liked to be
smiled upon; and the girl, to judge
from her manner and appearance,
might well be the daughter of a man
of position. "Well," ho said after «
moment, “be more careful another
time.*' He turned and went back to
bis work among the other vehicles,
covering the weakness of his sur-
render by a fresh display of angry au-
thority.
The girl gave a little sigh of relief
and looked at Orme. “Thank you,"
she said.
Then he remembered that he did
not know this girl. "Can I be of
further service?” he asked.
"No,” she answered, “I think not.
Orme Lifted His fitrew Hat From HI* Head.
But thank you Just tho same." She
gave him ■ friendly little nod and
turned to th« steering goer.
There was nothing for it but to go,
and Orme returned to the curb. A
moment later he saw the black car
move slowly away, and be felt as
though something sweet and fine
were going out of his life. If only
there had been some way to prolong
the incident! He knew Intuitively
that this girl belonged to his own
class. Any Insignificant acquaintance
might introduce them to each other.
And yet convention now thrust them
apart.
Sometime he might meet her. In-
deed, he determined to find out who
she was and make that sometime a
certainty. He would prolong his stay
In Chicago and search society until
he found her. No one had ever before
sent such a thrill through his heart.
He must find her, bocome her friend,
perhaps— But, again he laughed to
himself, “What a boor I am!”
After all she was but a' passing
stranger, and the pleasant reverie Into
which Ills glimpse of her had led him
was only a reverie. The meriiory of
her beauty and elusive charm would
disappear; his vivid Impression of her
would be effaced. But even while he
thought this he found himself again
wondering who she was and how he
could find her. He could not drive
her from his mind.
Meantime he had proceeded slowly
on his way. Suddenly a benevolent,
white-bearded man halted him, with
a deprecating gesture. “Excuse me,
sir,” he began, "but your hat—”
Orme lifted his straw hat from his
head. A glance showed him that It
was disfigured by a great blotch of
black grease. He had held his hat In
his hand while talking to tho girl,
and It must have touched her car at
a point where the axle of the dray
had rubbed. So this was his one me-
mento of the Incident.
He thanked the stranger, and walked
to a near-by hatter’s, where a ready
clerk set before him hats of all styles.
He selected one quickly and left his
soiled hat to be cleaned and sent
home later.
Offering a ten-dollar bill In payment,
he received in change a flve-dollar bill
and a Bllver dollar. He gave the coin
a second glance. It was the first sil-
ver dollar that he had handled for
some time, for he seldom visited the
west
‘There’s no charge for the clean-
ing,” said the clerk, noting down
Orme's name and address, and hand-
ing the soiled hat to the cash boy.
Orme, meantime, was on the point
of folding the flve-dollar bill to put it
Into his pocket book. Suddenly he
looked at it Intently. Written In ink
across the face of it, were the words:
'Remember Person You PayThlBTo.”
The writing was apparently a hur-
ried scrawl, but the letters were large
and quite legible. They appeared to
have been written on an uneven sur-
face, for there were several jogs and
breaks In the writing, as If the pen
had slipped.
“This Is curious,” remarked Orme.
The clerk blinked his watery eyes
and looked at the bill In Orme’s hand.
“Oh, yes, sir," he explained. "I re-
member that. The gentleman who
paid it In this morning called our at-
tention to It”
"If he’s the man who wrote this, he
probably doesn’t know that there’s a
law against defacing money.”
“But It's perfectly good, Isn’t It?”
Inquired the clerk. "If you want an-
other Instead—"
"Oh, no," laughed Orme. ” The
banks would take It.”
“But, sir—" begun tlio clerk.
"I should like to keep It If I enn’t
got rid of It, I'll bring it back. It’s a
hoax or an ondless chnln devlco or
something of the sort. I’d llko to
And out.”
Ho looked again at the writing.
PuzzIcb and problems alwayB Inter-
ested him, especially If they seemed
to lnvolvo some human story.
"Very well," Raid tho clerk, "I’ll re-
member that you have It, Mr-” he
peered at the name he had act down
—“Mr. Orme.”
Leaving the hntters’s, Orme turned
back on State street, retracing his
steps. It was cIobg to the dinner
hour, and tho character of tho street
crowds had changed. Tho shoppers
had disappeared. Suburbanites were
by thlH tlino aboard tholr trains anil
homeward hound. The street was
thronged with hurrying clerks and
shop girls, and the cars wore Jammed
with thousands more, nil of them
thinking, no doubt, of the same two
things—something to eat and relaxa-
tion.
What a titvo It was, this great
street! And how sennt the lives of
the great mnjorlty! Working, gating,
sleeping, marrying and given In mar-
riage, bearing children and dying—
was that all? "But growing, too," sold
Orme to himself, ''Growing, too.”
Would this be tha sum of his own
life—that of a worker In the hive?
tt came to him with something of an
Inner pang that thus far hla scheme
of things had Inoludod little more.
He wondered why he was now rocog-
n I zing this scantiness, this lack In Ills
life.
He came out of hie reverie to find
himself egeln at the Madison street
I goner. Again he seemed to see that
beautiful girl In the car. and to hear
the mualc of her voice.
How could he beet eet about to find
her? She might be, like himself, a
visitor In the city. But there was the
touring car. Well, she might have
run In from one of the suburbs. He
could think of no better plan than to
call that evening on the Walllnghams
and describe the unknown to Bessie
and try to get her assistance. Bessie
would divine the situation, and she
would guy him unmercifully, he knew;
but he would face even that for an-
other glimpse of the girl of tho car.
And at that moment he was sturt-
led by a sharp explosion. lie looked
to the street There was the black
car, bumping along with one flat tire.
The girl threw on the brakes and
came to a stop.
In an Instant Orme was In the
street. If he thought that she would
not remember him, her first glance al-
tered tho assumption, for she looked
down at him with a ready smile and
said: "You see, I do need you aguin,
after all.”
As for Orme, he could think of
nothing better to say than simply: "I
am glad.” With that he began to un-
fasten tho spare tire.
"I shall wateh you with Interest,"
she went on. ”1 know how to run a
car—though you might not think It—
but I don’t know how to repair one."
“That’s a man's job, anyway,” said
Orme, busy now with the Jack, which
was slowly raising the wheel from
the pavement. .
“Shall I get out?" she asked. “Does
my weight make any difference?"
"Not at all,” said Orme; but, never-
theless, she descended to the street
and stood besldo him while ho worked.
“I didn’t know thero were all those
funny things inside,” she mused.
Orme laughed. Her comment was
vague, but to him it was enough Just
to hear her voice. He had got the
wheel clear of the street and was
taking off the burst tire.
“We Boem fated to meet,” she said.
Orme looked up at her. "I hope you
won’t think me a cad,” ho said, “If 1
say that I hope we may meet many
times.”
Her little frown warned him that
she had misunderstood.
"Do you happen to know the Tom
Walllnghams?” he asked. %
Her smile returned. "I know a
Tom Walllngham and a Bessie Wall-
ingham.”
■‘They’re good friends of mine.
Don’t you think that they might Intro-
duce us?”
“They might," she vouchsafed, "If
they happened to see us both at the
same time."
Orme returned to his task. The
crowd that always gathers was now
close about them, and there was little
opportunity for talk. He finished his
Job neatly, and stowed away the old
tire.
She was In the car before ho could
offer to help her. “Thank you again,”
she said.
‘If only you will let me arrange It
with the Walllnghams," he faltered.
"I will think about It." She smiled.
He felt that she was slipping away.
Give me some clue,” he begged.
“Where Is your spirit of romance?”
she railed at him; then apparently re-
lenting: "Perhaps the next time we
meet—”
Orme groaned. With a little nod
like that which had dismissed him at
the time of his first service to her,
she pulled the lever and the car
moved away.
“I'm so sorry. We’re going out with
some new friends. Wish 1 knew them
well enough to ask you along. Can
you have some golf with us at Arm-
dale tomorrow afternoon?”
“Delighted! Say, Bessie, do you
know a girl who runs a black touring
car?"
"What?"
"Do you know a tall, dark girl who
has a black tonring car?”
“I know lots of tall, dark girls, and
several of them have black touring
cars. Why?”
"Who aro they?”
There was a pause and a little
chuckle; then: “Now, Bob, that won’t
do. You must tell me all about It to-
morrow. Call for vis In tlmo to catch
tho one-four."
Thnt was all that Orme could get
out of her; nnd after a little banter
and a brief exchange «f greetings
with Tom, who was called to tho tolo-
phono by his wife, tho wire was per-
mitted to rest.
Orme pushed a chair to the window
of the sitting room and smoked lazily,
looking out over the beautiful expanse
of Luke Michigan, which reflected
from its glassy surface tho wonderful
opalescence of early evening, tie
seemed to have Het forth on a new nnd
adventurous road. How atrangoly tho
girl of the car had come into his life!
Then he thought of the flve-dollar
bill, with tho curious Inscription. He
took it from his pocketbook and ex-
amined it by the fading light. Tho
words ran tho full length of the face.
Orme noticed that the writing had a
foreign look. There wore flourishes
which seemed distinctly un-Amerlcun.
He turned the bill over. Apparent-
ly thero was no writing on the back,
but as he looked more closely he saw
a dark blur In the upper left hand
corner. Even In the dusk ho could
make out that this was not a spot of
dirt; the edges were defined too dis-
tinctly for a smudge; and It was not
block enough for an Ink-blot.
Moving to the center tablo, he
switched on tho electric lamp, and
looked at the blur again. It stood out
plainly now, a series of letters and
numbers:
"Evans, S. R. Chi. A. 100 N. 210 E.
T.”
The first thought that caino to Orme
was that this could bo no hoax. A
Joker would have made the curious
cryptogram more conspicuous. But
what did It mean? Was It a secret
formula? Did It give the location of
a burled treasure? And why In the
name of common sense had It been
written on a flve-dollar bill?
More likely, Ormo reasoned, It con-
cealed Information for or about
some person—“S. R. Evans,” probably.
And who was this 8. R. Evans?
The better to study the mystery,
Orme copied the Inscription on a sheet
of note paper, which he found In the
tablo drawer. From the first be de-
cided that there was no cipher. The
letters undoubtedly were abbrevia-
tions. ‘Evans’’ must be, as he had ul
ready determined, a man's name.
“Chi” might be, probably was, "Chi
cago." ‘TOO N. 210- B.” looked like
’TOO (foot? paces?) north, 210 (feet?
paces?) east.” • \
The “A.” and the “T.” bothered him.
"A.” might be tho place to which "8.
It. Evans" was directed, or at which
be was to be found-—* place miffldenfr
iy Indicated by the letter. Now aa to
the "T.“—was It ’'treasure?" Or waa
It ’’time?” Or “truer* Orme had no
way of telling. It might even he tha
Initial of the person who had penned
the Instructions.
Without knowing where "A** waa,
Orme could make nothing of the
cryptogram. For that matter, ha
realized that unless the secret were
criminal it was not his affair. But ha
knew that legitimate business In-
formation Is seldom transmitted by
such mysterious moans.
Again and again he went over tha
abbreviations, hut the more closely he
studied them, the more baffling he
found them. The real moaning ap-
peared to hingo on tho “A.” and the
“T.” Eventually ho waa driven to the
conclusion that those two letters
could not bo understood by anyone
who was not already partly In the
socret. If secret It was. It occurred to
him to havo tho city directory sent
up to him. He might then find the
address of ”8. R. Evans,” If that per-
son huppened to he a Chicagoan. But
it was quite likely that the "Chi.**
might mean something other than
that "Evans" lived in Chicago. Pei*
haps, In the morning he would satisfy
his curiosity about "8. R. Evans,” hut
for the present he lacked the Incline-
tlon to press tho matter that far.
In the midst of hla puzzling, the
telephone bell rang. He crossed tha
room and put the receiver to his ear.
‘Yes?" ho questioned.
The clerk'a voice answered. “8*
nor Porltol to see Mr. Orme.” -
Who?"
'S-e-n-o-r—P-o-r-l-t-o-l,” spelled tha
clerk.
“I don’t know him,” said Orma.
There must be some mistake. Are
you sure that he asked for me?”
There was a pause. Orme heard a
few scattering words which Indicated
that the clerk was questioning tha
stranger. Then came the Informa-
tion : “He says he wishes to see yotf
about a flve-dollar bill.”
’Oh!” Orme realized that he had
no reason to be surprised. “Well, send
him up.”
He hung up the receiver and, re-
turning to the table, put the marked
bill back Into his pocketbook and
slipped Into n drawer the paper oa
which ho had copied the Inscription,
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Retort Courteous.
Two men were occupying a double
seat In a crowded car. One of them
was a long-distance whistler and the
other was evidently annoyed.
"You don't seem to like my whist
ling?" said the noisy one. after a five
minute continuous performance.
•No. I don’t," was the frank reply.
•Well," continued the other, “maybe
you think you are man enough to
stop It?"
"No, I don’t think I am.” rejoined
the other, “but I hope you are."
And the whistling was discontin-
ued.
The Philosopher of Polly.
“Don’t marry your stenographer,”
advises the Philosopher of Folly “8he
belongs to the union and knows the
rules and she’ll nover let you hire
another one."
Tumult In his breast,, Ormo walked
on. He watched tho black car thread
its way down tho street and disappear
around a corner. Then he gave him-
self over to his own bewildering re-
flections, and he was still busy with
them when he found himself at tho
entrance of tho Pero Marquette. He
had crossed tho Rush street bridge
and found his wuy up to the Isike
Shore drive almost without realizing
whither ho was going.
Orme had come to Chicago at tho
requost of eastern clients to meet half
way the owners of a western mining
property. When ho registered at tho
Annex he found awaiting him u tele-
gram saying that they hnd boen do-1
lulned nt Denver and must necessari-
ly he two days late. Besides the tele-
gram, there had been a letter for him
—a letter from his friend, Jack Bax-
ter, to whom ho had written of his
coming. Jack had left tho city on
business, It nppeared, but ho urged
Orino to make free of his North side
apartment. So Orme left the Annex
nnd went to tho rathor too gorgeous,
but very luxurious, I’oro Marquotto,
whero ho found that tho staff had
been Instructed to keep a close oyo
on his comfort. All this had hap-
pened but three short hours ago.
After getting back to the apartment,
Orme’s flrcit thought was to telophono
to Bessie Walllngham. He decided,
however, to wait till after dinner. He
did not like to appear too eager. Bo
bo wont down to the public dining
room and ato what was placed before
him, and returned to hla apartment
Just at dusk.
In a few moments he got Bossls
Watllngham on the wire.
"Why, Robert Orme!" she
claimed. “Wherovsr did you como
from ?"
“The usual place. Are you and
Tom at boms this evening ?"
Could Maks
Cryptogram.
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Seger, Neatha H. Colony Courier (Colony, Okla.), Vol. 2, No. 14, Ed. 1 Thursday, December 15, 1910, newspaper, December 15, 1910; Colony, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc941549/m1/7/?q=%22%22~1: accessed July 17, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.