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Jenison can get the real facts before him. That means a pardon sure, kids. Say, Jenison's all right! He's the kind of a friend to have, he is. He never quit on Dick. Say, where's Ernie? We'd better put him wise." "It won't make any difference to Ernie now," said one of the rogues, wiping his wet brow with his hand. Blacky fell away with a great look of dread in his eyes. He understood.
Dick shook his head wearily. Then he smiled. From his coat pocket he slyly extracted a shining revolver. Three minutes before it had been in David Jenison's pocket. "He's better off without a thing like this," mused the clever philosopher. Thomas Braddock rang the door-bell at the Portman home shortly after eight o'clock. He was perfectly calm and in full possession of himself.
His furtive, nervous glances about the small apartment escaped the notice of the men who were changing their apparel. To his own disgust, a cold perspiration began to ooze out all over his body the moisture of extreme nervousness and indecision. He took a stiff pull at his brandy flask. His shifting gaze ultimately rested on David Jenison's neatly deposited clothing. The boy was in the ring.
I did a lot of rotten things while you and I were ploddin' along through those last two years with the show you know what they were. But it was whiskey! I took money that didn't belong to me yours and Christine's, and Grand's, and Jenison's. I did worse than that, Mary. I sold you out to Bob Grand you knew that, too. But I'm going to try to pay up all my debts all of 'em, in a day or two.
His first thought on driving away from the Portman house was to rush over to the nearest police station and set the officers of the law on the track of the man he feared and hated, in the hope that he might forestall any action on Jenison's part. On second thoughts, he decided that it would be wiser to make haste slowly.
See if there's any one out there." She did not move. "Ain't you going to look?" he demanded. "The police?" dropped from her lips dully. She had overlooked the danger from that direction, although her mind had been so full of it a little while before. "He won't send them here, Tom " "Of course, he will," he broke in irascibly. "He's crazy mad, and he'll act quickly to head off Jenison's warrant.
That supper was one of the incidents in David Jenison's life always to stand out clear and undimmed. The party of five sat at a table in a remote corner of the dingy little eating-house. At no time were they free from the curious gaze of the people who filled the place, a noisy bumptious crowd of country people making the most of a holiday. The glamour was over them.
It was announced in heavy black type that his county would not rest until the body of the last of the Jenisons was found and laid away with the greatest ceremony. David laughed with the others at this laudable but tardy appreciation. As for the story of Frank Jenison's death, it was, according to the newspaper, "so strange that fiction paled by contrast."
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