Mercedes Tribune (Mercedes, Tex.), Vol. 10, No. 15, Ed. 1 Wednesday, May 23, 1923 Page: 6 of 10
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PAGE SIX
MERCEDES TRIBUNE
WEDNESDAY, MAY 23, 1923
m
Secret Adversary
b^A^aihaChristie
copyR.i*Ht
COOP, rlEAP J- OJKPANV
SYNOPSIS
PROLOGUE —Realizing that she has a
possible chance of being saved, as the
Lusitania is sinking, a stranger gives a
young American girl a package which
he asks her to deliver to the American
ttjjihasaador in England. She is saved.
CHAPTER I.—In London, Former LieUt.
“Tommy" Berestord and Miss Prudence
Cowley — "Tuppence” — discharged army
Murv> an ArcraniKfl tloTI. <,rThfl YoUIlf?
nurse, form an organization, "The Young
Adventurers, Ltd?' Tuppence mi
business appointment with a ma ,
ward Whittington, who offers her easy
ward wnuungcon, wnu uu-cm
employment, but on giving her name as
“Jane Finn,” which she had heard on the
street, Whittington shows agitation and
Tuppence is told to return next day.
CHAPTER jlX—In the morning tne gm
finds Whittington’s office deserted. In
answer to an advertisement signed Jane
Finn” the two receive notes from Mr.
Carter” and "Julius P. Hersheimmen
Carter is really a high government offi-
cial. He speaks of a mysterious Mr.
Brown” as head of the Bolsheviks in
England, and engages the pair to attempt
to find Jane Finn, whom he Is seeking for
important reasons of state.
CHAPTER III.—Next day the pair vis-
its Hersheimmer, American millionaire,
living at the Ritz hotel. He is looking for
his cousin, Jane Finn, who had disap-
peared after landing from the Lusitania s
Boats, and employs them to search for
her. They discover a certain Mrs. Van-
demeyer is a Lusitania survivor. Seek-
ing information from her, Tuppence rec-
ognizes Whittington in a caller on Mrs.
Vandemeyer. Tommy trails him.
CHAPTER THREE—Continued
rrar -sir. nersnetmmer seemed to
grow suddenly suspicious.
“See here,” he declared. “This isn't
Sicily! No demanding ransom or
threatening to crop her ears if I re-
fuse. These are the British Isles, so
Quit the funny business, or I’ll just
sing out for that beautiful big British
policeman I see out there In Picca-
dilly.”
Tommy hastened to explain.
**We haven't kidnaped your cousin.
On the contrary, we're trying to find
her. We’re employed to do so.”
Mr. Hersheimmer leant back In his
chair.
“Put me wise,” he said succinctly.
Tommy felf in with this demand In
so far as he gave him a guarded ver-
sion of the disappearance of Jane
Finn, and of the possibility of her
having been mixed up unawares in
“some political show.” He alluded to
Tuppence and himself as “private in-
quiry agents” commissioned to find
her, and added that the'y would there-
fore be glad of any details Mr. Hers-
heimmer could give them.
That gentleman nodded approval.
“I guess that’s all right. I was
Just a mite hasty. Just trot out your
questions and I’ll answer.”
For the moment this paralyzed the
Young Adventurers, but Tuppence, re-
covering herself, plunged boldly into
the breach with a reminiscence culled
from detective fiction.
“When did you last see the dece—
your cousin, I mean?”
“Never seen her,” responded Mr.
Hersheimmer.
“What?” demanded Tommy, aston-
ished.
“No, sir. As I said before, my fa-
ther and her mother were brother and
sister, Just as you might be"—Tommy
did not correct this view of their re-
lationship—“but they didn’t always
get. on together. And when my aunt
made up her mind to marry Amos
Finn, who was a poor’ schoolteacher
out west, my father was Just mad!
Said if he made his pile, as he seemed
in a fair way to do, she’d never see
a cent of It. Well, the upshot was
that Aunt Jane went out west and we
never heard from her again.
“The old man did pile it up. He
went into oil, and he went Into steel,
and he played a bit with railroads,
and I can tell you he made Wall Street
sit up 1” He paused. “Then he died
—last fall—and I got the dollars.
Well, would you believe it, my con-
science got busy! Kept knocking me
up and saying: What about your
Aunt Jane, way out west? It wor-
ried me some. You see, I figured It
out that Amos Finn would never make
good. He wasn’t that sort. End of it
was, I hired a man to hunt her down.
Result, she was dead, and Amos Finn
was dead, but they’d left a daughter—
Jane—wlio’d been torpedoed in the
Lusitania on her way to Paris. She
was saved all right, but they didn’t
seem able to hear of her over this
side. I guessed they weren’t hustling
any, so I thought I’d come along over,
and speed things up. I phoned Scot-
land Yard and the Admiralty first
thing. The Admiralty rather choked
me off, but Scotland Yard were very
civil—said they would make inquiries,
even sent a man round this morning
to get her photograph. I’m off to Paris
tomorrow, juat to see what the Pre-
fecture is doing. I guess if I go to
and fro hustling them, they ought to
get busy!”
The energy of Mr. Hersheimmer
was tremendous. They bowed be-
fore it
“But say, now,” he aided, "you're
BQt after her for anything? Oontem*
ox court, or something British? A
proud-spirited young American girl
might find your rules and regulations
in war time rather irksome, and get
up against it. If that’s the case, and
there’s such a thing as graft in this
country, I’ll buj^, her off."
Tuppence reassured him.
“That’s good. Then we can work
together. What about some lunch?”
Oysters had just given place to Sole
Oolbert when a card was brought to
Hersheimmer.
“Inspector Japp, C. I. D. Scotland
Yard again. Another man this time.
What does he expect I can tell him
that I didn’t tell the first chap? I
hope they haven’t lost that photo-
graph. That western photographer’s
place was burned down and all his
negatives destroyed—this is the only
copy in existence. I got it from the
principal of the college there.”
An unformulated dread swept over
Tuppence.
“You—you don’t know the name of
the man who came this morning?”
“Yes, I do. No, I don’t. Half a
second. It was on his card. Oh, I
know! Inspector Brown, Quiet, un-
assuming sort of chap.”
A veil might with profit be drawn
over the events of the next half-hour.
Suffice it to say that no such person
as "Inspector Brown” was known to
Scotland Yard. The photograph of
Jane Finn, which would have been of
the utmost value to the police in
tracing her, was lost beyond recovery.
Once again "Mr. Brown” had tri-
umphed.
The immediate result of this set-
bat* was to effect a rapprochement
between Julius Hersheimmer and the
Young Adventurers. All barriers
went down with a crash, and Tommy
and Tuppence felt they had known
the young American all their lives.
They abandoned the discreet reticence
of “private inquiry agents,” and re-
vealed to him the -tfhole history of the
joint venture, whereat the young man
declared himself “tickled to death.”
He turned to Tuppence at the close
of the narration.
“I’ve always had a kind of idea that
English girls were just a mite moss-
grown. Old-fashioned and sweet, you
know, _ but scared to move around
without a footman or a maiden aunt.
I guess I’m a bit behind the times!”
The upshot of these confidential re-
lations was that Tommy and Tuppence
took up their abode forthwith at the
Ritz, in order, as Tuppence put it, to
keep in touch with Jane Finn’s only
living relation. “And put like that,”
she added confidentially to Tommy,
“nobody could boggle at the expense!”
Nobody did, which was the great
thing.
“And now,” said the young lady on
the morning after their installation,
“to work! We should map out a plan
of campaign.”
“Hear, hear!’’
“Well, let’s do It. To begin with,
what have we to go upon?”
. “Absolutely nothing,” said Tommy
cneerlly.
“Wrong!”’ Tuppence wagged an
energetic finger. “We have two dis-
tinct clues.”
"What are they?”
“First clue, we know one of the
gang.”
"Whittington ?”
“Yes. I’d recognize him anywhere.”
“Hum,” said'Tommy doubtfully, "I
don’t call that much of a due. You
don’t know where to look for him, and
it’s about a thousand to one against
your running against him by acci-
dent.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” re-
plied Tuppence thoughtfully. There
are places in London where simply
everyone is bound to turn up sooner
or later. Piccadilly circus, for in-
stance. One of my Ideas was to take
up my stand there every day.”
“Honestly, I don’t tlRnk much of
the idea. Whittington mayn’t be in
London at all.”
“That’s true. Anyway, I think
clue No. 2 Is more promising.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“It’s nothing much. Only a Chris-
tian name—Rita. Whittington men-
tioned it that day.”
“Are you proposing a third adver-
tisement: Wanted, female crook, an-
swering to the name of Rita?”
“I am not. I propose to reason In
a logical manner. That man, Danvers,
was shadowed on the way over, wasn’t
he? And it’s more likely to have been
a woman than a man—”
“I don’t see that at all.”
“I am absolutely certain that it
would be a woman, and a good-looking
one,” replied Tuppence calmly. “Now,
obviously, this woman, whoever she
was, was saved.”
“How do you make that out?"
“If $he wasn’t, how would they
have known Jane Finn hkd got the
nanerar
•■oorrect.”
“Now, there’s Just a chance, I admit
It's only a chance, that this woman
may have been ‘Rita.’ ”
“And If so?"
“If so, we’ve got to hunt through
the survivors of the Lusitania till
we find her."
“Then the first thing Is to get a list
of the survivors."
“I’ve got it. I wrote a long list of
things I w'anted to know, and sent It
to Mr. Carter. I got his rep^ this
morning, and among other things it
Incloses the official statement of those
saved from the Lusitania.”
“But the great point Is, Is there a
‘Rita’ on the list?”
“That’s just what I don’t know,”
confessed Tuppence. “You see, very
few Christian names are given. They’re
nearly all Mrs. or Miss.”
Tommy nodded. “That complicates
matters,” he murmured thoughtfully.
"Well, we’ve just got to get down to
it. that’s all. We’ll start with the Lon-
don area. Just note down the ad-
dresses of any of the females who
live In London or roundabout, while I
put on my hat.”
Five minutes later the young
couple emerged into Piccadilly, and a
~yuick—roilow tnem. I daren’t. He
might recognize me. I don’t know
who the other man Is, but the bigger
of the two was Whittington,”
CHAPTER IV
The House in Soho.
Whittington and his companion
were walking at a good pace. Tommy
started in pursuit at once, and was
in time to see them turn the corner
of the street. His vigorous strides
soon enabled him to gain upon them,
and by the time he, in his turn,
reached the corner the distance be-
tween them was sensibly lessened.
Their course was a zigzag one de-
signed to bring them as quickly as
possible to Oxford street. When at
length they turned into it, proceeding
in an easterly direction, Tommy
slightly Increased his pace. Little by
little he gained upon them.
Just before the Bond, Street tube
station they crossed the road, Tommy,
unperceived, faithfully at their heels,
and entered the big Lyons’. There
they went up to the first floor, and sat
at a small table in the window. It
was late, and the place was thinning
out. Tommy took a seat at the table
“How Would They Have Known Jane
Finn Had the Papers?”
few seconds later a taxi was bearing
them to The Laurels, Glendower road,
N.t, the residence of Mrs. Edgar
Keith, whose name figured first in a
list of seven reposing in Tommy’s
pocketbook.
The Laurels "was a dilapidated
house, standing back from the road
with a few grimy bushes to support
the fiction of a front garden. Tommy
paid off the taxi, and accompanied
Tuppence to the front doorbell. He
pressed the bell. Tuppence withdrew
to a suitable spot.
A slatternly-looking servant, with
an extremely dirty face and a pair
of eyes that-dld not match, answered
the door.
Tommy had produced a notebook
and pencil.
“Good morning,” he said briskly and
cheerfully. “From the Hampstead
borough council. The new Voting
Register. Mrs. Edgar Keith lives here,
does she not?”
“Yaas,” said the servant.
“Christian name?” asked Tommy,
his pencil poised.
"Missus’? Eleanor Jane.”
“Eleanor,” spelt Tommy. "Any
sons or daughters over twenty-one??'
“Naow.”
“Thank you.” Tommy closed the
notebook with a brisk snap. “Good
morning."
“Good wheeze, wasn’t it? And we
can repeat It ad lib. Where’s the next
draw?”
“Mrs. Vandemeyer, 20 South Aud-
ley mansions. Miss Wheeler. 43
Clapington road, Battersea. She’s a
lady’s maid, as far as I remember, so
probably won’t be there, and, anyway,
she’s not likely.”
“Then the Mayfair lady is clearly
Indicated as the first port of call."
South Audley mansions was an Im-
posing-looking block of flats just off
Park lane. No. 20 was on the second
floor.
Tommy had by this time the glib-
ness born of practice. He rattled off
the formula to the elderly woman,
looking more like a housekeeper than
a servant, who opened the door to
him.
“Christian name?”
“Margaret.”
Tommy f£>elt It, but the other Inter-
rupted him.
"No, g u e.”
“Oh, Marguerite; French way, I
see.” He paused, then plunged boldly.
“We had her down as Rita Vande-
meyer, but I suppose that’s incon-ect?”
“She’s mostly called that, sir, but
Marguerite’s her name.”
“Thank you. That’s all. Good
morning.”
Hardly able to contain his excite-
ment, Tommy hurried down the stairs.
Tuppence was waiting at the angle
of the turn.
“You heard?”
“Yes. Oh, Tommy!”
Her hand was still In Tommy’s.
They had reached the entrance hall.
There were footsteps on the stairs
above them, and voices.
Suddenly, to Tommy's complete sur-
prise, Tuppence dragged him into the
little space by the side of the lift,
where the shadow was deepest.
"What the—”
“Hush!”
Two men came down the stairs and
passed out through the entrance. Tup-
pence’s hand closed tighter on Tom-
my's arm.
His Vigorous Strides Soon Enabled
Him to Gain Upon Them.
next them, sitting directly behind
Whittington in case of recognition. On
the other hand, he had a full view of
the second man and studied him at-
tentively. He was fair, with a weak,
unpleasant face, and Tommy put him
down as being either a Russian or a
Pole? He was probably about fifty
years of age, his shoulders cringed R
little as he talked, and his eyes, small
and crafty, shifted unceasingly.
Whittington ordered a substantial
lunch for himself and his companion;
then, as the waitress withdrew, I
moved his chair a little closer to '
table and began to ■ talk earnest!' m
a low voice. The other man joinc In.
Listen as he would. Tommy could only
catch a word here and there; but the
gist of it seemed to be some direc-
tions or orders which the big man
was impressing on bis companion, and
.with which the latter seemed from
time to time to disagree. Whittington
addressed the other as Boris.
Tommy caught the word “Ireland,”
several times, also “propaganda?” but
of Jane Finn there was nO! mention.
Suddenly,, in a lull in the clatter of
the room?, he got one phrase entire.
Whittington was speaking. “Ah, but
•you don’t know Flossie. She’s a mar-
vel. An archbishop would swear she
was his own mother. She gets the
voice right every time, and that’s
really the principal thing.”
Tommy did not hear Boris’ reply,
but In response to It Whittington said
something that sounded like: “Of
course—only in an emergency. . . .”
Then he lost the thread again. But
presently the phrases became distinct
again whether because the other two
had insensibly raised their voices, or
because Tommy’s ears were getting
more attuned, he could not tell. But
two words certainly had a most stim-
ulating effect upon the listener. They
were uttered by Boris and they were:
“Mr. Brown.”
Whittington seemed to remonstrate
with him, but he merely laughed.
“Why not, my friend? It Is a name
most respectable—most common. Did
he not choose ^t for that reason? Ah,
I should like to meet him—Mr.
Brown.”
There was a steely ring in Whitting-
ton’s voice as he replied:
“Who knows? You may have met
him already.”
“Bah!” retorted the other. “That is
children’s talk—a fable for the police.
Do you know what I say to myself
sometimes? That he is a fable in-
vented by th^ Inner Ring, a bogy to
frighten us with. It might be so.”
“And it might not.”
“I wonder . . . or Is it indeed
true that he is with us and amongst
us, unknown to all but a chosen few?
If so, he keeps his secret well. And
the Idea is a good one, yes. We never
know. We look at each other—one
of us Is Mr. Brown—which? He com-
mands—but also he serves. Among
us—in the midst of us. And no one
knows which he is.....” .
With an effort the Russian shook
off the vagary of his fancy. He looked
at his watch.
“Yes,” said Whittington. “We might
as well go.” ,
He called the waitress and asked
for his bill. Tommy did likewise, and
a few momentB later was follov^-:
the two men down the stairs. ^
Outside, Whittington hailed
and directed the driver to g</ ^'Wa-
terloo.
Taxis were plentiful here, and be-
fore Whittington’s had driven off an-
other was drawing up to the curb in
obedience to Tommy’s peremptory de-
mand.
“Follow that other taxi,” directed
the young man. “Don’t lose it.”
The elderly chauffeur showed no
Interest. He merely grunted and
jerked down his flag. The ve was
uneventful. Tommy’s taxi came to
rest at the departure platform just
after Whittington’s. Tot , was be-
hind him at the book ~e. He
took a first-class sing./- cket to
Bournemouth, Tommy diu the same.
As he emerged, Boris remarked,
glancing up at the clock: “You are
early. You have nearly half an hour.”
Boris’ words had , aroused a new
train of thought in Tommy’s mind.
Clearly Whittington was making the
journey alone, while the other re-
mained in London. Therefore he was
left with a choice as to which he
would follow. Obviously, he could not
follow both of them unless— Like
Boris, he glanced up at the clock, and
then to the announcement board of
the trains. The Bournemouth train
left at 3:30. It \Vas now ten past.
Whittington and Boris were walking
up and down by the bookstall: He
gave one doubtful look at them, then
hurried into an adjacent telephone
box. He dared not waste time in try-
ing to get hold of Tuppence. In all
probability she was still in the neigh-
borhood of South Audley mansions.
But there remained another ally. He
rang up the Ritz and asked for Julius
Hersheimmer. There was a click and
a buzz. Oh, if only the young Ameri-
can was in his room! There was an-
other click, and then “Hello” in un-
mistakable accents came over the wire.
“That you, Hersheimmer? Beres-
ford speaking. I’m at Waterloo. I’ve
followed Whittington and another
man here. No time to explain. Whit-
tington’s off to Bournemouth by the
3:80. Can you get there by then?”
“Sure. I’ll hustle.”
The telephone rang off. Tommy
’ put back the receiver with a sigh of
relief. He felt instinctively that the
American would arrive In time.
Whittington and Boris were still
where he had left them. If Boris re-
mained to see his friend off, all was
well. Then Tommy fingered his pocket
thoughtfully. In spite of the carte
blanche assured to him, he had not
yet acquired the habit of going about
with any considerable sum of money
on him. The taking of the first-class
ticket to Bournemouth had left him
with only a few shillings in his pocket.
Tt was to be hoped that Julius would
arrive better provided.
In the meantime, the minutes were
creeping by. Supposing Julius did not
get there in time. Tommy felt cold
waves of despair pass over him. Then
a hand fell on his shoulder.
“Here I am, son. Your British traf-
fic beats description! Put me wise
to the crooks right away.”
“That’s Whittington—there, getting
In now, that big dark man. The other
is the foreign c-hap he’s talking to.”
“I’m onto them. Which of the
two my bird?”
“Got any money with you?”
Julius shook his head, and Tommy’s
face fell.
“I guess I haven’t more than three
or four hundred dollars with me at
the moment.” explained the American.
Tommy gave a faint vhoof of relief.
“Oh, Lord; you millionaires! You
don’t talk the same language! Climb
aboard the lugger. Here's your ticket.
Whittington’s your man.”
“Me for Whittington!” said Julius
darkly. The train was just starting
as he swung himself aboard. “So
long, Tommy.” The train slid out of
the station.
Tommy drew a deep breath. The
man Boris was coming along the plat-
form toward him. Tommy allowed
him to pass and then followed him at
a judicious distance.
They reached at length a small di-
lapidated square. The houses thebq
had a sinister air in the midst of their
dirt and decay. Boris looked round,
and Tommy drew back into the shel-
ter of a friendly porch. From there
he watched Boris go up the steps of a
particularly evil-looking house and rap
sharply, with a peculiar rhythm, on
the door. It was * opened promptly,
he said a word or two to the door-
keeper, then passed inside. The door
was shut to again.
It was at this juncture that Tommy
lost his head. What he might to have
done, what any sane man would have
done, was to remain patiently where
he was and wait for his man to come
out again. What he did do was en-
tirely foreign to the sober common
sense which was, as a rule, his leading
characteristic. Something, as be ex-
pressed it, it seemed to snap in his
brain. Without a moment’s pause for
reflection, he, too, went up the steps,
and reproduced as far as he was able
the peculiar knock.
The door swung open with the same
promptness as before. A villainous-
faced man with close-cropped hair
stood in the doorway.
“Well?” he grunted.
It was at that moment that the full
realization of his folly beg^n to come
home to Tommy. But he dared not
hesitate." He seized at the first words
that came into his rtind.
“Mr. Brown?” he said.
To his surprise, the man stood aside.
“Upstairs,” he said, jerking his
thumb over his shoulder, “second door
on your left.”
Taken aback though he was by the
man’s words, Tommy did not hesitate.
If audacity had successfully carried
him so far, it was to be hoped it would
carry him yet farther. He quietly
passed into the house and mounted
the ramshackle staircase. Everything
in the house was filthy beyond words.
Tommy proceeaeo leisurely. By tne
time he reached the bend in the stair-
case, he had heard the man below
disappear into a back room. Clearly
no suspicion attached to him as yet.
To come to the house and ask for “Mr.
Brown” appeared indeed to be a rea-
sonable and natural proceeding.
At the top of the stairs Tommy halt-
ed to consider his next move. In
front of him ran a narrow passage,
with doors opening on either side of it.
From the one nearest him on the left
came a low murmur of voices. It
was this room which he had been di-
rected to enter. But what held hitt
glance fascinated was a small recess
immediately on his right, half con-
cealed by a tom velvet curtain. It
was directly opposite the left-handed
door and, owing to its angle, it also
commanded a good view of the upper
part of the staircase. As a hiding
place for one or, at a pinch, two men,
it was ideal, being about two feet
deep and three feet wide. It attracted
Tommy mightily. He thought things
over in his usual slow and steady way,
deciding that the mention of “Mr.
Brown” was not a request for an in-
dividual, but in all probability a pass-
word used by the gang. His lucky use
of it had gained him admission. So
far he had aroused no suspicion. But
he must decide quickly on his next
step.
It seemed to him that luck had
served him very well so far, but that
there was such a thing as trusting it
too far. To enter the room at the
left was a colossal risk. He could
not hope to sustain his part indefi-
nitely ; sooner or later he was almost
bound to betray himself, and then he
would have thrown away a vital
chance in mere foolhardiness.
A repetition of the signal knock
sounded on the door below, and Tom-
my, his mind made up, slipped quickly
into the recess, and cautiously drew
the curtain farther across, so that it
shielded him completely from sight.
There were several rents and slits In
the ancient material which afforded
him a good view. He would watch
events, and any time he chose could,
after all, join the assembly, modeling
his behavior on that of the new ar-
rival.
The man who came up the staircase
with a furtive, soft-footed tread was
unknown to Tommy. He was obvi-
ously of the very dregs of society.
The low beetling brows, and the crimi-
nal jaw, the bestiality of the whole
countenance were new to the young
man, though he was a type that Scot-
land Yard would have recognized at
a glance.
The man passed the recess, breath-
ing heavily as he went. He stopped
at the door opposite, and gave a repe-
tition of the signal knock. A voice
inside called out something, and the
man opened the door and passed in,
affording Tommy a momentary glimpse
of the room inside. He thought there
must be about four or five people
seated round a long table that took
up most of the space, but his atten-
tion was caught and held by a tall
man with close-cropped hair and a
short, pointed, naval-looking beard,
who sat at the head of the table with
papers in -front of him. As the new-
comer entered, he glanced up, and
with a correct, but curiously precise
enunciation, which attracted Tommy’s
notice, lie asked:
“Your number, comrade?”
“Fourteen, guv’nor,” replied the
other hoarsely.
“Correct.”
The door shut again.
“If that isn’t a German, I’m a
Dutchman!” said Tommy to himself.
“And running the show darned sys-
tematically too—as they always do.
Lucky I didn’t roll in. I’d have given
the wrong number, and there would
have been the deuce to pay. No, this
is the place for me. Hulla, here’s an-
other knock.”
This visitor proved to be of an en-
tirely different type to the last. Tom-
my recognized in him ah Irish Sinn
Feiner. Certainly Mr. Brown’s organ-
ization was a far-reaching concern.
The common criminal, the well-bred
Irish gentleman, the pale Russian, and
the efficient German master of the
ceremonies! Truly a strange and sin-
ister gathering! Who was this man
who held in his finger these curiously
variegated links of an unknown chain?
Two knocks followed in quick suc-
cession on the door below. The first
man was quite unknown to Tommy,
who put him down as a city clerk. A
quiet, Intelligent-looking man, rather
shabbily dressed. , The second was of
the working classes, and his face was
vaguely familiar to the young man.
Three minutes later came another,
a man of commanding appearance, ex-
quisitely dressed, and evidently well
born. His face, again, was not un-
known to the watcher, though he
could not for the moment put a name
to it.
After his arrival there was a long
wait. In fact, Tommy concluded that
the gathering was now complete, and
was just cautiously creeping out frorn^
his hiding place, when another knock
sent him scuttling back to cover.
This last-comer came up the stairs
so quietly that he was almost abreast
of Tommy before the young man had
-ealized his presence.
(To be Continued)
G. K. Wattson and E. E. Johnson
were San Benito business visitors
on Monday of this week.
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Holland, W. D. & Buell, Ralph L. Mercedes Tribune (Mercedes, Tex.), Vol. 10, No. 15, Ed. 1 Wednesday, May 23, 1923, newspaper, May 23, 1923; Mercedes, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1002912/m1/6/: accessed July 18, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Dr. Hector P. Garcia Memorial Library.