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I've got an awful lot to do and my French is still a little weak." It was not at all weak, it was strong and loud. I can hear it still, Joe Kramer's French, and it is a fitting memory of that devastating day. The day began so splendidly, so big with promise of great ideas. I grew quite excited about it. Here was Joe on his way to a real revolution.
I chanced to be out early this morning on an errand for mother, taking some things over to that sick colored wash-lady we have do our weekly work, and passing through the public square on my way back I saw a crowd around Kramer's place. Of course I stayed on the job, and heard all sorts of things said. But, Hugh, they've got one of the thieves, all right."
A blow on the nose brought Kramer's blood. Then his left eye went all but shut. At that the yearling spun dizzily. Dick drove a light blow in behind his man's ear. Down went Spurlock's "avenger" sprawling on the floor. Mr. Jennison began to count while Kramer lay on the floor, stirring uneasily, yet not seeming to comprehend his seconds' warnings. " eight, nine, ten!" finished Mr.
"From the way you talk, Thad, I should say it might have been Paul Kramer's Emporium that had suffered; because he's really the only man in Scranton who keeps sporting goods." "A good guess, Hugh, because Paul is the chap. They got in through a back door, and everybody says it was a pretty slick job, too," Thad went on to say. "Let's see what you're telling me," Hugh remarked thoughtfully.
Nice men to talk to are so scarce in these war times that I have no intention of letting you escape." "I'm in Kramer's hands," said Frederic Hoff gallantly, "but if he takes me to some wretched hotel instead of accepting such a charming invitation as this, my opinion of him as a host will be shattered."
In the desertion he walked past Lehman's Drug Store and Otto Kramer's bar, and crossed over to pause for a nameless moment in front of Paul Hendricks' Hobby Center, which was all dark, and seemed little changed. He took to a side street, and won back the rustle of trees and the click of his heels in the silence.
As for the two former pals of Nick, Tip Slavin and Leon Disney, in due time they were convicted of the robbery of Paul Kramer's store, and sent away to the excellent State institution, to remain there until they had reached the age of twenty-one.
So that from early morning until nine in the evening, on ordinary occasions, if a boy could not be found anywhere else it was "dollars to doughnuts," as Thad always said, that he was rummaging at Paul Kramer's, and lost to all the world for the time being. Eagerly, then, did Thad throw down a nickel, and snatch up the first copy of that week's issue sold that morning.
I started another story at once, one I had already planned, about a man who was to build a string of gorgeous opera houses in the leading American cities. This story, too, went slowly. Joe Kramer's voice kept breaking in. From time to time as I struggled on I could feel Eleanore watching me. "Don't try to hurry it," she said.
I knew that Kramer was the focal point of the trouble. He was my senior staff officer, and carried a great deal of weight in the Officer's Mess. As a medic, he knew most of the crew better than I. I thought I knew Kramer's driving motive, too. He had always been a great success with the women.
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