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Show Fish Night at Flaherty's By WALTER C. MORGAN C McClurp Newsnaper Syndicate. WNU Service. T M MISTER Frank Rogers, the travelin' auditor," he says. The first thing I'll do is to take care of your petty cash. In the meantime," mean-time," he says, 'you can get busy an' open the safe.' 'Wan minute,' I says, an' whin he turns he sees me wid a gun in me fist. 'You may be the auditor and you may not,' I says, 'but I'm the agent of this here railroad, rail-road, an' you'll not lay hand on annythin' till I see your credentials. creden-tials. I'm no sucker," I says." The sleek young man with the bullet head removed the cigarette from his mouth long enough to inquire: in-quire: , "And did he produce them?" "He did so, Alfie. An' wid that we shook hands, an' we've been good frinds iver since. Frank is up here from New York tonight, n' I have a date wid him. It's glad I am to have made your acquaintance, acquain-tance, Alfie. My station is at North Elm street, an' I don't often get out this way, but I hope to meet ye again. We'll have wan more little lit-tle drink. Wake up yer friend George." It was Saturday night at Flaherty's, Flaher-ty's, and Saturday night at Flaherty's Flaher-ty's is fish night. Mr. Donlin was enjoying himself. The men with him were barroom pickups. Mr. Donlin tipped the waiter with a dollar bill taken from a bill-fold that appeared to Alfie to be moderately mod-erately well furnished. He bent his head toward Mr. Donlin and whispered whis-pered a caution: "Easy, brother. Careful how you flash your roll around here." Mr. Donlin beamed on him reassuringly. reas-suringly. "Don't worry, Alfie, me boy. I am no sucker." He took oft his hat and mopped his forehead with a handkerchief a shade redder red-der than his face. "I'll be lavin' ye now," he said, '"i must go to meet Frank." Alfle rose with him. He stooped and whispered in George's ear, the followed Donlin to the street. "I didn't want George along," said Alfie. "Just between ourselves, ha's a kleptomaniac. Well, here's my corner. Friend of mine keeps this Joint. Come in and have one more on me." They entered and Alfle led the way to an unoccupied room back of the bar. A sturdy young woman with a bright, handsome face and a mop of red hair attended them. As Donlin raised his glass the door opened, and he peered into the bore of an automatic. Behind the gun was a masked face, and behind that a voice reminiscent of George said: "Stick 'em up!" Donlin complied. Alfle made a quick nervous movement of his hand toward his hip. The gun shifted. "Cut that, or it's wings for both of you. Get behind and roll him. Hand me the dough and no wise moves. Get me?" Alfie went through Donlin's pock- eta swiftly. He produced the red handkerchief, the cheap watch, and i about fifty cents in change, but the , billfold was missing. "Where's the stuff?" growled the bandit Donlin's features registered dejec-j dejec-j tlon. "Your frind George must have frisked me after all, Alfle," he said, "an' I thought I was wise." The girl who had left them appeared ap-peared at the door and advanced fearlessly. The bandit lowered his gun and shrank away from her. "I told you to lay off your racket ! In my place," she cried. "Give me I that gun!" She wrenched the gun I from his hand and turning it on him forced him to the door. "Now you bum," she cried, "scram!" "I don't understand this thing." said Alfie. "If George frisked you, why did he come here to hold you up?" Mr. Donlin was looking the gun over. H seemed to be interested in it. "I think I can explain that to ye," he said, "but here, let me slip this gun Into your pocket. I don't like to have It lying around; it's dangerous. danger-ous. Now, look. I'll show ye a little trick, an' ye'll know why George came after me." He took off his hat and held it so that Alfle could see the bill fold partly part-ly projecting from the swealband. "If there's wan tiling no Donlin ' nlver was," he began, "tls a " He paused. For the second time in five minutes he looked Into the bore of the gun, this time In the good right hand of the redoubtable Alfle." "Sucker Is the word," snld Alfle. "Now hand over the roll." Mr. Donlin smiled pleasantly. "Ye've got me wrong, Able," he ' said, "an' ye're entirely lucking In tlit power av observation. If I know j anything about guns that wan won't I ahoot, but " I His right fist crashed Into Aide's I Jaw and that enterprising young man dropped heavily to the floor. Mr. Donlin set his hat raki.ihly on one side of his head, grinned tootlilly at the girl, and bit the end of a t cigar. "I'm no sucker, " he said as lis ' UuUd Jauntily to Uia door. |