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Show i (ji By COURTNEY RYLEY COOPER j Copyright by Courtney Ryley Coopet (WNU Service) WHAT HAS TRANSPIRED Jo Barry, country youth In New York, ekea out living caretaker tn a poor rooming hou and accordion player in Louie Bertollnl'a rea'aurant. Lured by th open country, be ipenda a night In the fields, near New-burgh. New-burgh. Bertollnl discharge hlnv. Frlendlese and "broke," be la offered of-fered $10,000 by a man he know aa "Martin" for a "few year work," which Involve leaving Ne York and going "up the river a piece." In other worda, a prison sentence. He defer decision deci-sion until th next night, and la given 11.000 "on account" Next day to deposit $800 in country bank, giving hi nam a Joseph Bradley. A circua attract him. Outside a tent he sees an accordion accordi-on and I tempted to play It. A girl. Sue Dayton, niece of th owner, admire th music and Introduce In-troduce him to ber uncle. Jo I offered a pisltlon with the circus, but says be must first return to New York "on business." He ha decided to refuse "Martin'" offer. In hi room four men accost him. Bewildered, Jo see th men, who are detectives, find large amount of money, a machln gun, and two revolvers. an accurate description of UUa John B. Martin?" Joe Barry licked his lips. "Well, I don't know how accurate 1 can be. 1 dldnt pay much attention, atten-tion, except that he whs about medium me-dium height, and bad dark hair aud eyes." -Weight r , - , --We wasn't very heavy." -And just medium height?" -Yes, sir." -Not tall, like Detective Maxwell Max-well there, or this gentleman?" "No. sir." The captain leaned back In bis chair. "Sport," he said, "suppose you cut the comedy and save ua a lot of trouble. This gentleman here, whom we bad to disturb out of a night's Bleep, happens to have his offices at 60 Wall street And he's the only John B. Martin In that building." Joe Barry's Hps quivered ; he was reaching the point where a nerv-burned nerv-burned body refused to give more emphatic signals of his distress. "Well," came tonelessly, "I don't know what we can do about It" The captain seemed to disregard that, too." -That'll be all, Mr. Martin. Sorry to have disturbed you." The distinguished man departed. Pete Maxwell pulled up a chair. "Now listen, sport, there Isn't any sense In your trying to beat this rap with a lot of clown stuff. the tilling station In Newburgh weren't any too particular, of course. But from the general description de-scription of the two that were on the truck, this one seems to match up with the fellow who got away. Dark hair, medium sized " -Lots of people are dark and medium me-dium sized." Joe half rose with a Bnal burst of desperate appeal. "Besides, "Be-sides, I wasn't on any truck. If you'll let me tell my story" "We'd be delighted If you would, sport," said the captain caustically. "But you seem to think you're dealing deal-ing wltb a bunch of children." Again Joe Barry was led back to his cell, pondering dully. Hate was tn his heart He had been duped, tricked, his honest story twisted Into a confession of a crime, the true extent of which he did not know. But his hatred, strangely strange-ly enough, was clarified sufficiently to exempt these men who turned this night to one of terror. They were merely Instruments; Joe all but forgot them In the searing memory mem-ory of the personality who bad engineered this, Martin t He knew no other name for blm. Alone In his cell, bent on the slatted bunk, black hair stringing over bis sweat-caked fingers as be bent his bead to his hands. Joe Barry strove to tear the tangled events of the last two days apart and weld them anew Into something that would possess perspective. Somelhtng had happened near Orr's Mills, which bad to do with or a, always a book, thirsting for Information. Joe faced the blue lights. A camera clicked. They turned him to a side position, and again the shutter worked. They moved hlra over to another portion por-tion of the room, under more blue lights and stood him slouched, against a measuring post Once more a camera took Its record. Then he went back to his cell again; another Impartial, disinterested disinter-ested move l ad been taken In the disposition of something that once had been a human being. Tnere was little time for rest Soon Pete Maxwell was waiting tn the grilled cage again. "Line-up time," said the fat man as be unlocked the celL Again on the move, Pete silent beside him. Again the stairway and offices and at last the . elevator. Again a cage, where men waited and sweated and rubbed their lips. Then a guard called the name of Joe Barry and he moved forth to a big, pleasant room. Detectives milted about In a roped enclosure before a movable rostrum and a movable stage with a back wall from which extended a battery of dazzling lights. Joe was shunted np the three little brass-bound steps lending to the stage. Merciless lights gleamed down upon blm at short range, other and greater lights blazed from above; out there the milling figures fig-ures blurred; he saw faces and forms distantly as through yellow smoke. A man stood on the rostrum ros-trum before him with a sheuf of typewritten papers. "Eight Squad, 274," he read, "Joe Barry, 24, Sixteenth street and Third avenue, United States, restaurant res-taurant entertainer. Arrested by Detectives Chuven ' and Maxwell, Lane and Grossett. No criminal record. Complainant, People of the State of New York. Charged with violation of the Sullivan law and" Joe Barry reeled, his dull eyes turned gl a redly to the merciless blaze of the lights above. For the Impersonal voice of the Inspector had continued : . ' "Wanted at Orr's Mills for double homicide." After that his clicking teeth and the fact that he could obey commands com-mands were the only evidences that he gave of mental direction. He was told to walk, and he did, to and fro, continuing after the Inspector In-spector had given the commnnd to halt He was made to talk, answering an-swering questions about his work and. his whereabouts. And all the time, a sharp word, carrying with It the acrid odor of powder smoke, danced and tumbled over the furrows fur-rows of his fevered brain; horal-clle horal-clle homicide homicide Out of the room and down the elevator he went Homicide. Into the cage and back to his cell They came for him again, and led him out once more,' past more offices, of-fices, past more places where type writers clicked and coatless men tn black sleeve protectors , enme and went; Joe saw It all and saw nothing. noth-ing. Then they were all In a room again, about a table, and Pete Maxwell Max-well was questioning him- anew. But Joe could only stare and say: "I can't tell you. I don't know." Gradually, through the medium of examination, he learned the details of the accusation.. During the wind and rain of that storm, a truck laden with Canadian contraband had slithered along a greasy road, while cutting across country to Intercept In-tercept It had been two members of the state police, one bearing In a pocket a roll of currency marked that night for use in a later case There had been shots ; one had punctured a rear tire ; the truck hnd overturned and the driver had died. Then the insistent spurts, of yellow-red had come from the -vicious muzzle of a Thompson machine ma-chine gun In the hands of the second sec-ond rider; one trooper had dropped before the vicious spit of the Tomcat; Tom-cat; then the other had crumpled and gone face downward In the mud. But when aid -arrived; the pockets of the state police had been turned Inside out every mark of Identification had been taken from the body of the dead driver, his hands crushed to defeat comparison com-parison of fingerprints and his features fea-tures mutilated beyond chances of recognition. The "chopper," or machine ma-chine gunner had disappeared. Joe was accused of being that man. But he could only gasp and say: "I don't know anything about itl I don't know I I don't know!" : They came at him from three sides, the sheriff, Chuven and Maxwell Max-well They asked swift questions they asked slow ones, they pressed him, they gave him long pauses Insistently, quietly, never threaten Ing, tbey went back to the begin ning. They asked him about this man Martin. They wanted bis real name. Thy wanted to know how long they had known each other They asked why he ever framed up such a story as that Joe Barry rubbed at bis throat "I didn't frame It upt I've told you the truth. You won't believe met I tell you, he was a man who came into the restaurant ; that's all I know. Louie Bertollnl can tell you that, or Fullhouse, the waiter." (TO BB CONTINUED. CHAPTER III Continued "I Just went out of town for a day." "It's a bin country. Where?" Joe Barry's eyes took on a desperate des-perate fire. "I won't tell your The captain looked at him blandly. "Oh, all right," he said, "sit down." They moved a chair to the end of the table; Ed and Jerry sat down, too, then Jake. The captain picked up the evll-looklng machine gun and eyed it carefully. - "So somebody sneaked this Into your room. Who. for instance?" Barry straightened with hope. "Ills name is Martin. He's a lawyer. law-yer. I got tired last night down at Louie Bertolinl's place and this lawyer said he had a job for me. He gave me some money and told me to go out into the country and take a day off. Then I could come back tonight and tell him whether I wanted to go through with this deal or not He said he bad a friend who'd gotten into some trouble trou-ble over some liquor and he wanted me to take his place. So I" 'Don't make a speech about it," said the captain quietly. "We'll get at things one at a time. Martin, Mar-tin, you said the name was?" "Yes, si r." "The town's full of Martins. Which one?" "Ills name is John B. Martin," came tonelessly. "He's an attorney and this offices are down at 60 Wall street." "Sure of that, are yon?" The name evidently had made no impression im-pression upon the captain. He raised his eyes and gave a quick Jerk of his head. "Take him back," he commanded. Barry clung to the table. "But there's a lot more to tell I" he begged. "I haven't got anything to bide. I want to tell you Just how I happened to get Into this mess." "Don't tear your shirt," admonished admon-ished the captain quietly. Then to Pete: "Takt blm back." Again the metallic clatter of bis heels ; again the faces and bars, and the sight of a frowsy woman peer' lng out from under her hair. Then he was alone, sitting on his slatted Iron cot, hands sweating one moment mo-ment between his knees, the next Instant rubbing at his hot cheeks or across his burning eyes. He rose and paced, three steps one way, three steps back, bumping against the steel plates at one end, the rough bars at the other. Suddenly Sud-denly he settled, with fearful determination. de-termination. They hadn't believed him when he told about Mr. Martin. Maybe they'd question him again. That's It, they'd bring him out and question ques-tion him for a while, then send him tack again to forget what he'd said. But he must not forget one thing; they could burn him tn oil if they wanted to, but he mustn't forget one thing. He'd make up a story about where he'd been today, and he'd stick to it Other things faded just that a girl should not know; that seemed to be all that counted now. Minutes dragged by. He mustn't forget to keep quiet about where he'd been today. An hour passed. The turnkey came and unlocked un-locked his cell. They went back to the captain's office. "Sit down," said the captain. Then everybody seemed to forget him, except ex-cept a fifth person who was now In . the room, a tall, gray-haired man with some distinguishing characteristics, char-acteristics, who came to the other end of the table and looked Intently Intent-ly at blm. "No," he said after a long time. "Sure?" asked the captain. "Absolutely." Pete Maxwell lit a cigarette. Ed slumped in his chair and began the reading of an early edition newspaper. news-paper. Jake and Jerry just sat The captain looked over some papers pa-pers from his desk. From the other end of the table, the gray-haired gray-haired man stared at Joe and Joe returned the look. "Absolutely," said the gray-haired man for a second time. The captain cap-tain seemingly Ignored the remark. re-mark. "Sport," he began, leaning toward to-ward Joe Barry. "Forgot to ask you before. Suppose yon give me I that overturned truck, something with which this man Martin had been connected. Now Joe remembered remem-bered the careful questioning which had been carried on In the car under un-der the guise of mere casual interest; inter-est; the extraction of Incidents, where Joe bad been, whom he bad seen, what he had done, what he knew about that wrecked truck; In fact his every action from the time he had left New York until he had returned. Out of that, Barry saw now, a man had gained the knowledge that here was some one who had been near the scene of a crime, and whose every action, instead of proving an alibi for him, would aid to conviction, Martin must have Tinted such a person to take the place of a guilty man. So he had engineered an acceptance accept-ance of a proposition to go to prison, to so conduct one's actions as to cause suspicion. But Joe knew now that these suspicions were not merely the ones which Martin bad designated. That machine ma-chine gun, those two automatics, and that money which Pete Maxwell Max-well had extracted from the pocket of his old clothing -were evidence enough of serious things impending. impend-ing. Joe shuddered from the possible charge which rose constantly before be-fore him. The hours passed. Then the turnkey came In to take him to the patrol that was to conduct him, with other prisoners, to police po-lice headquarters for the morning "line-up." When the patrol stopped on Center Cen-ter street, Joe hardly noticed his surroundings. Another . place of confinement, another stopping place In this shifting Journey to a market mar-ket place of human frailties. He entered the building, with the other scuffling occupants of the patrol. A man In uniform sat In a sort of enclosed throne In the big rotunda; It might have been an office of-fice building Information desk. Then came an office with the metholl-cal metholl-cal taking of names. After this, a hallway, flanked by office doors with the names of Interminable bureaus upon them; after that the line dived Into a narrow stairway under guard. Then they took his name again, in a little cage, where another fat man fondled various keys from a rack which hung above bis desk. Once more, he was In a cell, noticing vaguely that he possessed pos-sessed a mate, and staring as vaguely about him. More hours went by. Then the turnkey came and got hlra; Pete Maxwell was waiting In the grilled cage outside the holdover proper, to take him to the photographer's. The endless detail, the constant shifting, moving about from cage to cage, handcuff to handcuff. Then Maxwell opened a door and put Joe Barry into still another cage, a big one this time, with some twenty other men, a cage which reached nearly to the celling, and opening upon a wide room, fitted mostly with tables and photographic apparatus. ap-paratus. Inside the cage, some men sat, some paced, up and down, up and down, hands behind them, - faces to the floor. At first there were only a few, then others came from the benches, and still more; pacing, pac-ing, turning swiftly, and moving bark again. There came a clicking sound; blue lights, running In long tubes, burst Into a glare, changing the complexions of those who entered their range to a mottled. Jaundiced hue. Pete Maxwell motioned. Joe Barry went dazedly forth. Some one caught his right band and pressed it to a steel plate of cold, gummy ink, thence to puper. They took the print of his hand, then of his ihumbs and fingers. Pete lit a cigarette. "Don't think he's got a record," he said. "Didn't Join the parade." The fingerprint expert laughed. "Put a vie in a bull-pen and he'll pace every time," he said. Then he called a man under the long, blue light "Joe Barry, coming up." Again a record always that rec- - Bewildered, He Heard Himself Identified, First by a Farmer, Then by Two Others. lou've got too much to explain. All that money in your pockets; that water-soaked suit and those shoes with mud on them." Joe's tongue licked quickly at dry Hps. , "I don't know anything about the money. But about those clothes. I had them on day before yesterday and got caught in the rain." "Where?" "Up by Newburgh, near the little town .called Orr's Mills." Pete Maxwell glanced hastily toward : the captain. The three other detectives shuffled Into an attitude at-titude Of attention, their arms on the table. - "Go right ahead," said Pete, then Interrupted at almost the first sentence. "What did you go up there for?" Joe Barry shifted; the flrst bubbles bub-bles of a slow bate were beginning to rise. "I'm trying to tell but you won't listen 1" "We haven't missed a trick. Hop to it" Joe Barry began his recital again, only to meet with some Interruptions, Interrup-tions, cross-statements between the various men, returns to the beginning begin-ning of his story. But at last they let blm finish. Then Pete straightened, straight-ened, and stretched, pressing his hands wide at the sides of bis chest "Bridge player, eh, sport?" be asked. "No." "You believe in leading trumps In a pinch, though. Now we'll play a few. Mind pushing the button. Captain?" The captain complied and gave a command to the officer who responded re-sponded to the signal. Out he went to almost Immediately re-enter wltb four other persona Joe was ordered or-dered to bis feet They all looked at him carefully. Then, bewildered, bewil-dered, be heard himself Identified, first by a farmer who swore blm to be a man who had come to bis door at midnight seeking a place to sleep, then by the two others, gawking apple knockers, who proclaimed pro-claimed blm the person whom they had pursued on bis exit from a haystack. Cloudiness again assailed as-sailed Joe's mind. He had told all this, as a means to his own release. re-lease. Then, by police necromancy, his witnesses had appeared, not to help blm, but to damn him. "Joe's dark, tired eyes stared stupidly from one to the other. Deep within with-in his brain something began to cautloa him to tighten bis tongue, to say nothing more, lest every word he uttered should be used for bis own condemnation. Then the three were led out again, only a stocky man remaining. "How about hlra, sheriff?" asked the captain. 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