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Show I I I I By Courtney Ryley Cooper I (U .N't; Service.) . ")nyrl(rhc hv futlrtn.-y I'.vlPv r'uonfT ,' CHAPTER XI Continued 24 Fullhoust sat for a long time, limp as usual. At last he stretched and rose. "Well, kood," he said. "Maybe you're right. I wouldn't let no guy pull a slow drop on me like that and get away with It. I'd set him over, I guess. Cut you got to have Jack to pull a college gag like that. That nln't no petty larceny stuff; that's a Job for these here big electricians that know how to keep a guy from gettln' n shock. Ton got to have plenty Jack for that." lie veered. "How about you'n me doing a Job of prowling?" "Where's the money In that?" Joe asked caustically. "I'lenty Jack where f'd prowl," said Fullhouse proudly. "I know my lay. Just outside Washington, D. C. Big estate stuff; driveways and all that. Didn't I work for him four years? Oughtn't 1 know something?" "That this Jamison you've talked about." "Lousy with Jack," said Fullhouse meditatively, "tve seen him put twenty twen-ty grand In thnt little wall safe behind the big picture In the living room. It's got works like an alarm clock; spring It with a can opener." "And where's he?" "He's down In Florida and the old woman and the brat with him. Didn't I say I worked for him four years? What do you think I've been writing him letters ever since, telling him how hnppy I was with him? To make a collection? I didn't see him leave grand after grand In that matchbox for nothing." "Then" "Keed," asked Fullhouse coldly, "Do you think I risked myself a Jolt In stir as an accessory after the fact Just to give you a free ride? Think it over." There was no more said. A day passed and three more following. One afternoon Fullhouse walked bruskly Into the dingy room. "How much Jack you got?" he asked. "I don't know ; about forty dollars." "Gimme It I" He reached eagerly for the money and was gone. In an hour, he was back, walking slowly through the door. He turned his sour eyes to Joe. until the whites showed. Then he rammed his hands deep Into his pockets aDd fished there, at last to extract a lone ten-dollar bill which he ;ossed disgustedly on the bed. Joe sensed the explanation. "Ton met somebody better than you were?" "If you'd had ten guesses, you couldn't have idone better." Joe smiled, for the first time In weeks. But seriousness soon returned. re-turned. "Well, we've got ten dollars between be-tween us." "Have we?" Fullhouse rolled his eyes. "Well, we're going to have more. We're going to prowl that Joint. What I mean, we're going to prowl It." Joe pounded a fist Into his open palm. "I don't know, Fullhouse." "You don't know? You're wanting Jack, ain't you? What I mean, you've got to have it." "Yes, but I've been thinking about something. Suppose we did rob that house. Suppose I got all the money I wanted and went through with everything that keeps pounding In my mind. I wouldn't be committing a crime In my own conscience If I fought back against men that have tried to send me to the chair. But what's this Jamison ever done to me? Why should I go in there and rob his house take everything he's got?" Fullhouse merely stood and laughed. "Can that stuff. What the h I; don't you owe me nothing? Where'd you be now if I hadn't come od the circus? Suppose I'd let you lay " "You had your own plans. Full-house." Full-house." "Well, suppose I did," the man said. "Suppose I came out there Just to get you to help me pull a Job. Does that change it any? Would that make It any sweeter for you if they was a death watch, stamping out your time-sheet time-sheet up at the college? 1 guess them guys would wreck the Stinging Lizzie, just if you asked them." Joe Barry shook his head; this man could draw ghoulish pictures. Full-house Full-house went on : "I guess 1 never done nothing, keeping you under cover and supporting you all this time. Oh. no, I ain't done nothing but Just look-after look-after my own Interests. 1 ain't done a thing for you. I ain't taken risks and stalled for you and kept you covered " "Never mind the rest. Fullhouse," said Joe huskily. "I'll go with you." CHAPTER XII They separated when they reached Washington. Joe to go to his usual tj-pe of cheap hotel. Fullhouse to seek lodglii'-rs In an entirely different portion por-tion of the city. Ie had said that this would be best; Fullhouse. once Joe had acquiesced to his demands, had displayed considerable agility of mind regarding the niceties of burglary. bur-glary. For two hundred miles, he bad rehearsed re-hearsed his man, dwelling chiefly upon the safety of the Job they were about to undertake, the reward, the need for naturalness and a lack of excitement. Joe Larry was pacing the narrow, shabby room which was to be his until night. September! F.arly September Sep-tember He remembered sharply that this had been a month to which he once had looked forward. This week, the Dayton brothers show had begun Its engagements at the various fairs. There would be as long as ten days at a stretch when the tents would remain re-main erect. The fairs; Sue and he had talked of them often, the fun to be had around a circus when there were no moves to Interfere, the exhibits ex-hibits to be wandered, the change from day to night broadcasting and the better programs they would be able to give, owing to the greater time possible at night for sending them out upon the air. There would be powerful power-ful stations, too, where a person could receive a worth-while reward for the extra work in getting up an unusual entertainment. And here he paced, In the sticky heat of a colorless room, waiting for night and a job of burglary. Oh well, It was all right. Something else would have happened. His haunted eyes swept the faded room ; always something some-thing happening. He turned and scowled. "Hello, Fullhouse," he said, as the man slid through the door. "Hello, this Is a dump I Oh well. It don't make no difference. We'll be taking it easy on big jack this time tomorrow. Pay in advance here?" "Yes." "That's good. Makes blowing easier. All you'll have to do Is, grab your keister and beat It. No," be said, "1 got a better Idea. Leave your Junk here, It ain't nothin' you'd want Bring your keister empty. Good thing to put the cream in. Then I'll Just drive you to the station, and you catch a train out of town, and I'll meet you." "How do I know you'll meet me?" "H 1 !" exclaimed Fullhouse earnestly. earn-estly. "You'll have all the divvy won't you? Don't you think 1 want my end?" He changed his tone. "Ain't that a swell thing to say to a pal." "Oh, I'm sorry." Joe rubbed a hand across his forehead. "I'm just a little shaky. I guess It's the heat, this room everything." "It sure ain't no movie set," agreed Fullhouse. "I wish I'd known. I'd of traded dumps with you. I butted into a swell joint. Carpets In the halls, radio In every room, swell bed." "Where Is it?" "Down the street a ways. I never do know the names here. Can't even remember the name of that hotel now. One of them fancy ones. Don't make any difference; I know how to get there." "Isn't that it, the Regis?" asked Joe, casually. Fullhouse sat up quickly, fumbling at the afternoon paper which had fallen from his pocket. He Jerked 11 from Us place on the edge of the bed, and smirked at a penciled notation on the blank margin: "942 Regis." "That ain't it," he said. "That's a telephone number of the garage where I'm at." He tore off the notation nota-tion and shoved it into a pocket "Better keep it In my head Instead of billboarding It like that" "I'll do the same." said Joe. "One of us might forget." "Yeah? Maybe so. I'll remember, though." He put his hands behind his head then, and closed his eyes, apparently comfortable in spite of the heat. Joe sat upoD the one. straight-backed chair. Three hours passed. Once Full-house Full-house dropped to sleep, snoring heavily, heav-ily, only Do awaken, as If startled, hall raise, glimpse Joe still on the chair, and settle back again. At last darkness dark-ness came. They left the room and went down to the little restaurant. Then hack to the shabby lodging and more waiting. (TO BE CONTINUED.) |