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Show .fe-ii I Jlfiljszs wmmmmm quite i r ,nM I JJ THE Dtxalra IV1 3Sg CHARLES KLEIN V w flfekcV JSSSl' ARTHUR HORNBLOW . V tp rS H MA w$L illustrations by rat waiter n h rhU.M SYNOPSIS. Howard Joffries, banker's son, under the evil influence of Robert Underwood, a fellow-student at Yale, leads a life of dissipation, marries the daughter of a gambler who died in prison, and is disowned dis-owned by his father. He tries to get work and fails. A former college chum makes a business proposition to Howard which requires $J,0i;u cash, and Howard is broke. Robert Underwood, who has been repulsed re-pulsed by Howard's wife, Annie, in his college days, and had once been engaged to Alicia, Howard's .stepmother, has apartments at the Astruria. Howard decides de-cides to ask Underwood for the $2,000 he needs. Underwood, taking advantage of his intimacy with Mrs. Jeffries, Sr., becomes be-comes a sort of social highwayman. Discovering Dis-covering his true character she denies him the house. Alicia receives a note from Underwood, threatening suicide. Art dealers for whom he has been acting as commissioner, demand an accounting. He cannot make good. Howard Jeffries calls in an intoxicated condition. He asks Underwood for $2,000 and is told by the latter that he is in debt up to his eyes. Howard drinks himself into a maudlin condition, and goes to sleep on a divan. A caller Is announced and Underwood draws a screen around the drunken sleeper. Alicia enters. She demands a promise from him that he will not take his life, pointing to the disgrace that would attach to herself. Underwood refuses re-fuses to promise unless she will renew her patronage. This she refuses to do. Underwood kills himself. The report of the pistol awakens Howard. He stumbles over the dead body of Underwood. Realising Reali-sing his predicament he attempts to flee and is met by Underwood's valet. CHAPTER VIII. Continued.' Howard was at no time an athlete, and now, contrasted with the burly policeman, a colossus in strength, he seemed like a puny boy. His cringing, frightened attitude, as he looked up in the captain's bulldog face, was pathetic. pathet-ic. The crowd of bystanders could hardly hard-ly contain their eagerness to take in I i of doors. There is no question about t his guilt. Look at his hands. We 1 caught him trying to get away." The coroner rose. He believed in doing things promptly. "I congratulate you, captain. Quick : work like this ought to do your repu- 1 tation good. The community owes a : debt to the officers of the law if they succeed in apprehending criminals quickly. You've been getting some : pretty hard knocks lately, but I guess ; you know your business." The captain grinned broadly. "I guess I do. Don't we, Maloney?" "Yes, cap.," said Maloney, quietly. The coroner turned to go. "Well, there's nothing more for me to do here. The man is dead. Let j'ustice take its course." Addressing the undertaker, he said: "You can remove the body." The men set about the work immediately. im-mediately. Carrying the corpse into the inner room, they commenced the work of laying it out. "I suppose," said the coroner, "that you'll take your prisoner immediately to the station house, and before the magistrate to-morrow morning?" "Not just yet," grinned the captain. "I want to put a few questions to him first." The coroner smiled. "You're going to put him through the 'third degree,' eh? Every one's heard of your star-chamber ordeals. Are they really so dreadful?". "NonsenseJ," laughed the captain. "We wouldn't harm a baby, would we, Maloney?" The sergeant auicklv indorsed bis The Persistence of His Stare Made Howard Squirm. The prisoner was sober by this time, and thoroughly alarmed. "What do you want me for?" he cried. "I haven't done anything. The, man's dead, but I didn't kill him." "Shut your mouth!" growled the captain. 1 Dragging Howard after him, he made his way to the elevator. Throwing Throw-ing his prisoner Into the cage, he turned to give orders to his subordinate. subord-inate. "Maloney, you come with me and bring Officer Delaney." Addressing the other men, he said: "You other fellers look after things down here. Don't let any of these people come upstairs." Then, turning to the elevator boy, he jave the command: "Up with her." The elevator, with its passengers, hot upward, stopped with a jerk at the fourteenth floor, and the captain, ance more laying a brutal hand on Howard, pushed him out Into the corridor. cor-ridor. If it could be said of Capt. Clinton '.hat he had any system at all, It was to be as brutal as possible with everybody every-body unlucky euough to fall into his hands. Instead of regarding his prisoners pris-oners as innocent until found guilty, is they are justly entitled to be regarded re-garded under the law, he took the di--ectly opposite stand. He considered ill his prisoners as guilty as hell until they had succeeded in proving themselves them-selves innocent. Even then he had his doubts. When a jury brought in i verdict of acquittal, v he shook his I head and growled. He had the great-sst great-sst contempt for a jury that would acquit ac-quit and the warmest regard for a jury which convicted. He bullied and maltreated mal-treated his prisoners because he firmly firm-ly believed in undermining their mor-il mor-il and physical resistance. When by Jenrivine them of sleeD and food, bv for the undertaker. You can call up I headquarters so the newspaper boys get the story." While the sergeant went to the telephone tele-phone to carry out these orders, Capt. Clinton turned to look at Howard, who had collapsed, white and trembling, into in-to a chair. "What do you want with me?" cried Howard appealingly. "I assure you I had nothing to do with this. My wife's expecting me home. Can't I go?" "Shut up!" thundered the captain. His arms folded, his eyes sternly fixed upon him, Capt. Clinton stood confronting the unfortunate youth, staring at him without saying a word. The persistence of his stare made Howard squirm. It was decidedly unpleasant. un-pleasant. He did not mind the detention deten-tion so much as this man's overbearing, overbear-ing, bullying manner. He knew he was innocent, therefore he had nothing to fear. But why was this police captain staring at him so? Whichever way he sat, whichever way his eyes turned, he saw this bulldog-faced policeman staring silently at him. Unknown to him, Capt. Clinton had already begun the dreaded police ordeal known as the "third degree." CHAPTER IX. Fifteen minutes passed without a word being spoken. There was deep silence in the room. It was so quiet that once could have heard a pin drop. Had a disinterested spectator been there to witness it, he would have been at once Impressed by the dramatic dra-matic tableau presented the dead man on the floor, his white shirt front spattered with blood, the cringing, frightened boy crouching in the chair, the towering figure of the police cap- to Annie without delay. 'Summoning up all his courage, he said boldly: "You are detaining me here without warrant in law. I know my rights. I am the son of one of the most influential in-fluential men in the city." "What's your name?" growled the captain. "Howard Jeffries." "Sdn of Howard Jeffries, the banker?" bank-er?" Howard nodded. "Yes." The captain turned to his sergeant. "Maloney, this feller says he's the son of Howard Jeffries, the banker." Maloney leaned over and whispered something ini the captain's ear. The captain smiled grimly. "So you're a bad character, eh? Father Fa-ther turned you out of doors, eh? Where's that girl you ran away with?" Sharply he added; "You see I know your record." "I've done nothing I'm ashamed of," replied Howard calmly. "I married the girl. She's waiting my return now. Won't you please let me send her a message?" The captain eyed Howard suspiciously sus-piciously for a moment, then he turned to his sergeant: "Ma.loney, telephone this man's wife. What's the number?" "Eighty-six Morningside." Maloney again got busy with the telephone and the wearying wait began be-gan once more. The clock soon struck two.. For a whole hour he had been subjected to this gruelling process, and still the lynx-eyod captain sat there watching his quarry. If Capt. Clinton had begun to have any doubts when Howard told him who his father was, Maloney's information infor-mation immediately put him at his chief's opinion. "No, cap." Turning to go, the coroner said: "Well, good-night, captain." "Good-night, Mr. Coroner." Howard listened to all this like one transfixed. They seemed to be talking talk-ing about him. They were discussing some frightful ordeal of which he was to be a victim. What was this 'third degree' they were talking about? Now he remembered. He had heard of innocent in-nocent men' being bullied, maltreated, deprived of food and sleep for days, in order to force them to tell what the police were anxious to find out He had heard of secret assaults, ol midnight clubbings, of prisoners being choked and brutally kicked by a gang of ruffianly policemen, in order tc force them into some damaging admission. ad-mission. A chill ran down his spine as he realized his utter helplessness. If he could only get word to a lawyer. Just as the coroner was disappearing through the door, he darted forward and laid a hand on his arm. "Mr. Coroner, won't you listen to me?" he exclaimed. The coroner startled, drew back. "I cannot interfere," he said coldly. "Mr. Underwood was a friend ol mine," explained Howard. "I came here to borrow money. I fell asleer. on tht sofa. WThen I woke up he was dead. I was frightened. I tried to get away. That's the truth, sc help me God!" The coroner looked at him sternly and made no reply. No one could ever reproach him with sympathizing with criminals. Waving his hand ai Capt. Clinton, he said: "Good-night, captain." "Good-night, Mr. Coroner." The door slammed and Capt. Clinton, Clin-ton, with a twist of his powerful arm, yanked his prisoner back into his seat. Howard protested. "You've got no right to treat m like this. You exceed your powers. I demand to be taken before a magistrate magis-trate at once." The captain grinned, and pointed tc the clock. "Say, young feller, see what time it is? Two-thirty a. m. Our good mag istrates are all comfy In their virtuous virtu-ous beds. We'll have to wait till morning." (TO BE CONTINUED.) ;holdng them, clubbing them and frightening them he had reduced ifhem to a state of nervous terror, to :he "border of physical collapse, he knew by experience that they would ao longer be in condition to withstand tils merciless cross-examinations. Demoralized, De-moralized, unstrung, they would blurt out the truth and so convict them-lelves. them-lelves. The ends of justice would thus e served. Capt. Clinton prided himself on the .norough manner in which he conduct-;d conduct-;d these examinations of persons un-ier un-ier arrest. It was a laborious ordeal, but always succesful. He owed his present position on the force to tha iklll with which he browbeat his prisoners pris-oners into "confessions." With his third degree" seances he arrived at esults better and more quickly than n any other way. All his convictions I lad been secured by them. The press ind meddling busybodies called his ivstem barbarous, a revival of the old .line torture chamber. What did he ;ure what the people said as long as le convicted his man? Wasn't that jvhat he was paid for? He was there :o find the murderer, and he was going go-ing to do it. He pushed his way into the apartment, apart-ment, followed closely by Maloney and the other policemen, who dragged ilong the unhappy Howard. The dead man still lay where he had fallen. Capt. Clinton stooped down, but made ao attempt to touch the corpse, merely mere-ly satisfying himself that Underwood was dead. Then, after a casual survey of the room, he said to his sergeant: "We won't touch a thing, Maloney, ill t the coroner arrives. He'll be here my minute, r.nd he'll give the order tain sitting sternly eyeing his hapless prisoner, and at the far end of the room Detective Sergeant Maloney busy sending hurried messages through the telephone. "What did you do It for?" thundered the captain suddenly. Howard's tongue clove to his palate. He could scarcely articulate. He was Innocent, of course, but there was something in this man's manner which made him fear that he might, after all, have had something to do with the tragedy. Yet he was positive that he was asleep on the bed all the time. The question is, would anybody believe him? He shook his head pathetically. "I didn't do it. Really, I didn't." "Shut your mouth! You're lying, and you know you're lying. Wait till the coroner comes. We'll fix you." Again there was silence, and now began be-gan a long, tedious wait, both men retaining re-taining the same positions, the captain cap-tain watching his prisoner as a cat watches a mouse. Howard's mental anguish was almost al-most unendurable. He thought of his poor wife who must be waiting up for him all this time, wondering what had become of him. She would imagine the worst, and there was no telling what she might do. If only he could get word to her. Perhaps she would be able to explain things. Then he thought of his father. They had quarreled, quar-reled, it was true, but after all it was his own flesh and blood. At such a critical situation as this, one forgets. His father could hardly refuse to come to his assistance. He must get a lawyer, too, to protect his interests. I This police captain had no right to de-I de-I tain him like this. He must get word ease. It was all clear to him now. The youth had never been any good. His own father had kicked him out. He was in desperate financial straits. He had come to this man's rooms to make a demand for money. Underwood Under-wood had refused and there was a quarrel, and he shot him. There was probably a dispute over the woman. Ah, yes, he remembered now. This girl he married was formerly a sweetheart sweet-heart of Underwood's. Jealousy was behind it as well. Besides, wasn't he caught red-handed, with blood on his hands, trying to escape from the apartment? Oh, they had him dead to rights, all right. Any magistrate would hold him on such evidence. "It's the Tombs for him, all right, all right," muttered the captain to himself; "and maybe promotion for me." Suddenly there was a commotion at the door. The coroner entered, followed by the undertaker. The two men advanced quickly into the room, and took a look at the body. After moking a hasty examination, the coroner cor-oner turned to Capt. Clinton. "Well, captain, I guess he's dead, all right." "Yes, and we've got our man, too." The coroner turned to look at the prisoner. "Caught him red-handed, eh? Who is he?" Howard was about to blurt out a reply, re-ply, when the captain thundered: "Silence!" To the coroner, the captain explained: ex-plained: "He's the scapegrace son of Howard How-ard Jeffries, the banker. Xo good b;id t-sg. His father turned him out |