Part 20 (1/2)

Blandly Wallingford produced the telegram he had received that morning.

”This wire,” he condescendingly explained, ”is from the National Clockers' a.s.sociation of Boston, Ma.s.sachusetts, United States of America, who are charitable enough to pa.s.s out long-shot winners, at the mere bag-o'-sh.e.l.ls service-price of five dollars per day or twenty per week.”

They looked from the magic word ”Razzoo” to the smiling face of J.

Rufus more in sorrow than in anger.

”And they happened to hand you a winner!” said the cadaverous Mr.

Teller, folding the telegram dexterously with the long, lean fingers of one hand, and pa.s.sing it back as if he hated to see it.

”Winner is right,” agreed J. Rufus. ”I couldn't pick 'em any other way, and I took a chance on this game because it's just as good a system as going to a clairvoyant or running the cards.”

There was a short laugh from the raw-boned Mr. Pickins.

”I don't suppose they'll ever do it again,” he observed, ”but I feel almost like taking a chance on it myself.”

”Go to it,” advised J. Rufus heartily. ”Go to it, and come home with something substantial in your pocket, like this,” and most brazenly, even in the face of what he knew of them, young Wallingford flaunted before their very eyes an a.s.sorted package of orange-colored bank-bills, well calculated to excite discord in this company. ”Lovely little package of doc.u.ments,” he said banteringly; ”and I suppose you burglars are already figuring how you can chisel it away from me.”

They smiled wanly, and the smile of Larry Teller showed his teeth.

”No man ever pets a hornet but once,” said Billy, the only one st.u.r.dy enough to voice his discomfiture.

Wallingford beamed over this tribute to his prowess.

”Well, you get a split of it, anyhow,” he offered. ”I'll take you all to dinner, then afterward we'll have a little game of stud poker if you like--with police interference barred.”

They were about to decline this kind invitation when Short-Card Larry turned suddenly to him, with a gleam of the teeth which was almost a snarl.

”We'll take you,” he said. ”Just a little friendly game for small stakes.”

J. Rufus elevated his eyebrows a trifle, but smiled. Inwardly he felt perfectly competent to protect himself.

”Fine business,” he a.s.sented. ”Suppose we have dinner in my rooms. I'm beginning to get them educated at my hotel.”

At the hotel he stopped for a moment at the curb to give his chauffeur some instructions, while the other four awaited him on the steps.

”How'd you come to fall for this stud game, Larry?” inquired Phelps.

”I can't see poker merely for health, and this w.i.l.l.y Wisdom won't call any raise of over two dollars when he's playing with us.”

”I know he won't,” snapped Larry, setting his jaws savagely, ”but we're going to get his money just the same. Billy, you break away and run down to Joe's drug-store for the K.O.”

They all grinned, with the light of admiration dawning in their eyes for Larry Teller. ”K.O.” was cipher for ”knock-out drops,” a pleasant little decoction guaranteed to put a victim into fathomless slumber, but not to kill him if his heart was right.

”How long will it be until dinner's ready, Wallingford?” asked Billy, looking at his watch as J. Rufus came up.

”Oh, about an hour, I suppose.”

”Good,” said Billy. ”I'll just have time. I have to go get some money that a fellow promised me, and if I don't see him to-night I may not see him at all. Besides, I'll probably need it if you play your usual game.”