Galveston Labor Dispatch (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 2, No. 17, Ed. 1 Friday, November 14, 1913 Page: 3 of 12
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The Galveston Labor Dispatch, Friday, November 14,1913
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MILLER
$1.00
$1.00
TG
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GOOD ON DAY OF ISSUE
Special Train
Other club members—the few unfor- ,
-
CHAPTER III.
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LEAVES GALVESTON
12
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74
Phone 1090
152 22nd Street
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ezsskezsrkmzmsr
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Harry C. COALL
For Automobiles
Res- Phone 3794
Phone 412
Galveston, Texas
Weare in the market regularly as Buyers and Shippers of
POULTRY-EGGS
E
Correspondence solicited.
Address POULTRY DEPARTMENT
q
HOUSTON PACKING COMPANY
f
y
Galveston Hardware
$
Company
The other, however, shook his head.
And
Rifles—Also Ammunition to Fit.
We Solicit Your Business and Guarantee Our Prices
23RD AND SfRAND
-a
PHONE 159
d
r
WHY PAY MORE
$2.00
$2.00
4
I
S2The Famous Hat Store-$2
k_
I
I
SantaFe
Builders’ Hardware, Carpenters and Mechanics
Tools, Leather, Rubber and Canvas Belting. all
Kinds of Packing, Tinware, Galvanized Ware
and Enameled Ware—Stevens’ Shot Guns and
IGH
ADE
Rain or Shine—Day or Night
Stand, Breakers Bath House and
411 21 Street.
Round
Trip
Still There Was Something About Her
That Teased and Perplexed Him.
ACE
UNION
for a HAT when you can come
here and get one just as good
for only.
clock’s striking the hour a chap will
go up that stoop, ring the bell and be
admitted.”
House of Mystery?”—the second ques-
tion with kindling interest.
bell.
At that very instant the clock in the
At That Instant the Clock in the Hall
Began Striking Ten.
Why Should We Worry About The Gold
Weather?
+*+*********+***************,*** 2+********;
SANITARY DESKS, OFFICE CHAIRS
FIRE AND BURGLAR PROOF SAFES
Nov. 10,11, 18, 15. Returning Leave
Houston 10 P. M.
NO-STU-OH
CARNIVAL
TRAIN
SERVICE
Houston Depot Most Convenient
of All
M. NAUMANN
Gen.Agt. Pass. Dept.
*
J wwvgVw - j
l -e—=EMe—« I
$ Phone 2387 *
t J. T. NICHOLS’ Auto. Service *
*+*4+**** ;V V4 + - v 4- ;-**** * ***** $*****************
*
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1:15 P. M.
SOUTH TEXASSTATE BANK OF GALVESTON
2309 MARKET STREET
[SUCCEEDING THE ROSENBERG BANK]
Solicits Your Account, Either Checking or Savings.
This bank is a State Guarantee Fund Bank—the only one in Galveston.
Come and let us explain the advantages of a State Guarantee Fund Bank.
SOUTH TEXAS STATE BANK .
: . . *
403*44*+**** * ********** **** * *+*+ ** +** <
General Office Equipper
FRED F. HUNTER
2)
7
Corner Tremont and Postoffice Street, (Trust Building)
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3:
-
3
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*
*
$
3
t
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I
?
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have a nice, pleasant time getting in
—or, once in, getting out again.”
“Oh, well, we might try breaking in
after dark—jimmy, you know, and all
that sort of thing,” a sarcasm which
was frankly ignored.
“It has occurred to me,” pursued
Van Vechten, picking daintily at his
omelette souffle, “that a person who
has been at such.pains to keep his
identity hidden from the rest of the
world, is stimulated to do so by some
*
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k
*
*
Our new arrivals for Fall are sure pretty, and we want you
o see them. ’ _
A Fine Line of IMPORTED AUSTRIAN VELOURS for
this could not be the first man, but his
manner copied that worthy’s so pre-
cisely that Van Vechten was con-
strained to watch him instead of main-
taining his unprofitable vigil.
He lighted his cigarette, flipped the
match away, and waited.
This second individual was walking
hesitantly, just as the other had done,
and also seemed to be devoting his at-
tention to the house numbers.
He paused before the house across
the way. There could be no doubt but
which was only imperfectly outlined
upon the red-curtained fanlight. Then
that he was searching for the number,
abruptly all signs of hesitation van-
ished from his bearing; he went de
a.
CHIACOS & MITCHELL
PROPRIETORS OF NEAT DRESSIRS CLUB. i
Elite Barber Shop, Finest ana Largest in the South.— Clothing and Hat—
Cleanin, Pressing and Dyelng—Hot and Cold Baths.
SANITARY EVERYWHERE.
Galveston—2214-2216 Market Srteet; 403 21st Street; Phones 2442 and 1799.
Houston—410 Main St.; 506 and 508 Main St.; 1015 Congress Ave.; Phones
2755 and 1258, Preston.
3911 to see him whez ze
—BUY—
SAO THERS‘
- i I, I" .
A)EE
E—p#
he repeated it. “You are always so
devilish hard up that I thought you
would like to pick up a hundred. You
can take it or leave it,”
“Oh, I’ll take you fast enough,” Tom
made haste to agree. “Your money’s
as good as anybody’s. But sit here till
noon? I don’t think! I haven’t break-
fasted yet.”
“You pamper that gross appetite of
yours. We’ll breakfast together. There
will be something to talk about, who-
ever wins; for, truly, something is
happening across the way at last.”
Tom was Immediately all eager in-
quiry, but to his importunities Van
Vechten opposed the one injunction—
“Wait." So Tom grumbled and growled
to no purpose, and was in and out of
his chair a dozen times during the
period of waiting, though he made it a
point to settle himself there some min-
utes before the hour of noon. He sat
glowering darkly at his friend and ut-
tering sarcastic remarks which the
latter apparently did not hear.
However, the alert watchfulness that
lay behind Van Vechten’s imperturb-
ability was infectious, and as the preg-
nant moment drew nearer and nearer
Tom himself fell to scanning the
street, which was quiet and oppres-
sively respectable, and never crowded
with traffic of any sort, even on work-
days. On Sundays it was practically
deserted all day long—especially mid-
summer Sundays.
There was no word from Van Vech-
ten until he quietly announced:
“Here he comes.”
Tom Phinney craned forward. He
beheld a stalwart, well set-up young
man in a shabby suit, approaching on
the opposite walk. He scrutinized him
intentlv.
■ mtenty was he following the proceed-
ings across the street. As before, the
door was opened perhaps an inch, a
brief colloquy patently ensued, then
the gap widened barely enough for the
young man to squeeze through. And
also as before, the door was slammed
without Van Vechten obtaining the
least glimpse of whatever mysteries
might lie beyond.
By now he was taking account of
time only with reference to Number
1313. He was in such a state of mind
that he forgot that he was tired and
sleepy, or that he ever had been bored.
“What bluffers girls are!” declared
he from the lofty height of twenty-five
years’ accumulated wisdom. “I’ll bet
Miss Carew don’t believe any such tot
as that. Can’t a man do as he pleases
with his own money?”
“She says not. A man’s money is
not his own; he is merely holding it in
trust.”
Tom, however, had never met Paige
Carew, who had lived most of her
twenty years abroad, and he had r
\
muttered vaguely. “If I did not posi-
tively know to the contrary, I should
say—”
He left it unsaid, however. The cab
turned and departed, and the young
man sat staring in a perplexed way at
the closed door. It was as silent and
illegible as it had been for months,
the windows all as irresponsive, the
sooty facade as sphinxlike.
Tom was still contemplating his
friend in bewilderment.
“You didn’t by any chance think it
was Miss Carew, did you?” he askad.
hall began striking ten. Ti__:________, -___I —
First of all, Van Vechten was struck “The bet’s a fair one,” he said,
by this coincidence. Even before in-
ventorying the man’s semblance, he
asked himself how many had preceded
him; how many were yet to come. And
how did they time their arrival so
nicely?
There had been something furtive
about the second fellow’s admittance,
Van Vechten recalled; not particularly
on the man’s part, but suggested rath-
er by the narrow crack which the open
door at first disclosed, making one
think that the chain had not been re-
leased until after a parley. And then
the aperture had widened only enough
for the visitor to squeeze his bulk
through, whereupon the door had
promptly banged shut. Van Vechten
retained merely a sense of absolute
darkness beyond the threshold; not
the slightest glimpse had he caught
of servant or attendant. The door
might have been tended by invisible
ha da.
azain he asked himself: Would the
Incident be repeated in another hour?
The wait between ten and eleven
o’clock dragged with most exasperat-
ing slowness; but the self-appointed
watcher’s interest was at such high
pitch that he left his third cocktail un-
tasted.
As the hour approached, he darted
quick glances along the street in an-
ticipation of a new arrival. And sure
enough, at a minute or two before the
hour, here came a third muscular, reso-
lute-looking young man, not over-fas-
tidiously attired, who was scanning
the house numbers as intently as his
two predecessors had done.
And just as the chimes in the hall
began tolling eleven, he mounted the
steps and rang the bell.
Van Vechten scarcelv hreathad, so
Bl! L_7
Sa.—■ A
Hmep
ge
-eessss-g
.gm
“Union-Made”
Njg- ‘
luore tolerance for her opinion than
he had for anybody else’s that did not
agree with his.
“They may be plotting to rob a
bank,” he abruptly bent the talk back
to the paramount topic.
Van Vechten regarded him with a
far-away look.
“Or starting a dramatic school," he
added, “or condemning vivisection or
woman suffrage, or something equally
ghastly. Drop it, Tom; that’s my ad-
vice. Sitting comfortably at a window
and waiting for whatever surprises our
House of Mystery may have to dis-
close, is one thing; actively interfering
with something that does not in the
least concern us, is quite another. If
there really is any mystery, and it is
to be dealt with at all, it calls for a
thin, keen blade, npt a bludgeon.”
“If that’s some of your pink-tea wit,"
growled Tom, “a bludgeon is a mighty
good thing to have when you are deal-
ing with crooks.”
“Doubtless—when the crooks do not
fight with rapiers. Til give you a
chance to break even; you don’t want
to owe me a hundred, I suppose?”
The troubled look, result of unwont-
ed mental effort, was instantly erased,
from the handsome boyish face.
“No, I don’t. I’m on, if you’re bet-
ting nobody will show up at one.”
- “Either end you like. A hundred
says no man will enter thirteen-thir
teen at one o’clock.”
Which was very decent and accom-
modating of Van Vechten, considering
that he would have been rather sur-
prised than otherwise if one o’clock
came and went without bringing a
fresh arrival. And there was another
arrival, and he was surprised—very
much surprised. And Tom Phinney
lost his second wager, too, which he
could ill afford to do.
This was the way of it.
It was very close to one when they
resumed their seats. Alexander, with
patient disappointment, reported that
nothing at all had happened. Then
the clock struck the hour, and a taxi-
cab whirled madly up and came to a
skidding stop in front of Number 1313.
A lady hastily descended, a fashion-
ably gowned lady, who fairly ran up
the steps; and before she had time
even to touch the bell the door swung
open and she darted through the open-
ing and was swallowed up.
Tom was indignant and disgusted.
“Now what do you think of that!”—
giving the exclamation the slangiest
sort of intonation. He was, of course,
thinking only of the outcome of the
bet.
, But Van Vechten had not heard. The
instant the woman appeared at the top
of the stoop—until then the cab’ had
partially concealed her—he startled
Tom into forgetfulness of his disap-
pointment, by bounding from his chair.
At the same time he smothered an ex-
clamation which, although inarticu-
late, was a good deal more indicative
of agitation and amazement than
Tom’s had been.
"What the dickens!” Tom cried.
Van Vechten slowly sank back into
his seat again.
“I—I thought—for a moment,” he
Excepting chat it was so nicely
timed, there was nothing dramatic
about the man’s advent. Tom even in-
dulged in a disdainful “Huh!”—not-
withstanding which he was sensible of
a distinct thrill when, a few seconds
later, the young man mounted the
steps of Number 1313, rang the bell,
and after the now familiar preliminary
measures on the part of the unseen
door-tender, was admitted.
And all the while the clock in the
club hall was chiming the hour of
noon.
An Exit.
“Alexander! ”
A page hastening cat-footed, after
the manner of all well-trained pages,
swerved abruptly from his course' and
bore down upon the window where the
two friends were seated.
Van Vechten waved in the direction
of Number 1313.
“Alexander,” he said, “we are going
to breakfast, and we want you to hold
these two chairs for us. Keep an eye
upon that house across the way—thir-
teen-thrirteen. Observe whether any-
body departs, or whether anybody ar-
rives, and make careful note of them.
If anything unusual happens, come to
me immediately in the grill. Under-
stand?”
Alexander signified that he under-
stod, and that he was willing to wait
and watch—for even the club’s ser-
vants shared the general interest in
the House of Mystery—and Alexander
was already seated in one of the va-
cated chairs, his eyes glud to the
doorway opposite.
There were only two other diners in
the grill. Van Vechten and Tom sought
a secluded corner, where the latter
listened in blinking bewilderment to
an account of the morning’s happen-
ings. But, after all, he was no more
mystified than the narrator.
He was, however, all at once in-
spired.
“I have it!” he impetuously an-
nounced. “Let’s hurry and eat—I’m
not hungry now, anyway. What say
to me walking up and ringing the bell
at one o’clock?”
But Van Vechten’s comment was not
encouraging.
“Crude,” was his word. “I fear you
will never learn anything beyond
squash, yachts and polo ponies. Those
men are not wandering blindly into
the house; the indications all point to
a prearranged meeting. They may be
the tenants themselves; some sort of
secret society—"
“Anarchists!” Tom yelled. A thought
had but to enter his head to emerge
at his mouth. The other two diners
looked up, startled: but perceiving the
source of the outburst, they returned
to their meals with expressions of pa-
tient endurance.
“Yes, anarchists,” Van Vechten
agreed; “even so. And you would
•"iy
_____ “What do you mean?”—bluntly.
terminedly up the steps and rang the "Been tipped off to anything about our
emerged. Sooner or later the man
must depart.
Van Vechten was eminently well
qualified to wait, since all his energies,
and sch ambition as he possessed,
were directed toward that most labori-
pus of all tasks, “killing time;” despite
which, backed by a considerable fer-
tility of invention, most of the min-
Utes of each passing day flitted by,
leaving him more bored than ever. So
he resolved to keep his station at the
window—all day if necessary—and sat-
isfy his curiosity respecting the man’s
general appearance.
The first twenty minutes or so ware
alTevlated Dy a lively anticipation that
the door would open almost any mo-
ment, and the man come forth; but
nothing of the kind happened. The
house remained as still as it had been
for months. Not a blind was raised;
no sign of life was manifest.
Then the watcher began to grow
restless. As the minutes ticked off
and nothing occurred, he glanced at
his watch with increasing frequency.
Presently he rose and went over to a
push-button, upon which he pressed
with unnecessary violence, afterwards
hastening back to the window under a
sudden apprehension that the man
might take advantage of his brief in-
attentiveness to vanish—as the fellow
had caught him napping before.
A cocktail was presently set beside
him upon a tabouret; he gulped it
down, then lighted a cigarette which
he began to smoke feverishly. But he
tossed it away after a puff or two; he
had smoked too much the night be-
fore, and the tempered spirits could
not remove the furry taste from his
tongue.
Another glance at his watch; near-
ly an hour had he waited, for it was
now 'ten minutes to ten. Would the
felldw never appear?
And then Van Vechten’s attention
was all at once diverted. He had or-
dered and consumed a second cock-
tail, and was attempting a fresh cigar-
ette, when he paused, the blazing
match suspended in mid-air.
He saw another and quite different
stranger approaching along the oppo-
site walk. He knew instinctively that
N1
tunates anchored to the city—were be-
ginning to drop in, but Van Vechten
was too intent to give any of them
particular notic: until Tom Phinney
arrived.
It was impossible to ignore Tom
Phinney. Not that Van Vechten want-
ed to, because he didn’t—as a rule.
Their friendship antedated their col-
lege days; which was odd enough if
one cared to sum up the differences
between their two characters. Tom
Phinney, never celebrated for his wit,
was once inspired to epigram by an
appreciation of these tempermental
dissimilarities, and as his utterance is
not without pith it is worth quoting.
He confided to his right-hand neigh-
bor at a certain formal dinner: “Rud-
dy not only belongs to a half of the
world that’s not wise to how the other
half lives, but it’s the half that doesn’t
care a rap and would be tired to death
if you tried to tell it.”
With a lazy lifting of one slender
hand, Van Vechten arrested Phinney’s
noisy progress across the leunging
room, as soon as Tom comprehended
who was hailing him, his good-hu
mored expression died away with com
ical rapidity, a look of mingled amaze
ment and alarm taking its place,
“Moses and green spectacles!” he
voiced in astonishment, “You! Ou
of bed this time of day? Sunday, too!”
He hurried to his friend’s side and ex
amined him critically.
“Seen a doctor yet? You’d better. If
you’re not able I’ll go fetch old Pottle
—sleeps here, you know.”
These remarks were ignored.
“Draw up a chair,” was the response
—“no, not that stuffy one; it makos
me perspire only to look at it—the wil-
low rocker.”
Tom did precisely as he was direct-
ed. “Well?” he grunted, eyeing Van
Vechten with a concern that was only
half simulated. But in a moment he
felt his gaze impelled to follow his
friend’s.
“What’s up?” he demanded, staring
hard—even belligerently—at the silent
House of Mystery.
Van Vechten listlessly consulted his
watch, stifled a yawn, and then said:
“Twenty-two minutes to twelve. I’ll
lay you a hundred that while the
+++* *4*-** •+ *** ******* * • *%*********-* **************
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powerful motive. If he is a person of
intelligence it will be no light matter
penetrating his secret; it might be
dangerous for the meddler. And it is
no business of ours.”
“Rats!” Tom Phinney exploded in
disgust. “You’re losing interest al-
ready.”
The other elevated his brows and
leaned comfortably back in his chair.
“Tommy,” he returned weariedly,
“I am willing to try anything—once.
And, as you know, whatever I under-
take I see through to the end, what-
ever that end may be. Just now I
am too depressed by this uncertainty
about Paige—not to mention - its dis-
agreeable consequences—to become in-
terested in anything.”
“It is deuced queer you don’t hear
from her, isn’t it?” Tom felt called
upon to show a polite concern.
His friend sighed. “Since my cousin
is a woman,” he said, “ ‘queer’ is not
the word. Her disregard for my and
Uncle Theodore’s plans is just what
might have been expected; it is so
thoroughly feminine, as you would
know well enough if you had a will-
ful, pretty cousin like Paige. But by
the same token I am no more resigned
to sit twiddling my thumbs in this
bake-oven of a town until she chooses
to come home—or at least let me know
about when to look for her.”
“Just the same,” insisted Tom, “if
she was my cousin I’d be worrying.”
“I am, Tommy—for myself, though;
not for her. . . . But I was going
to say that we would better let this
matter drop; the affair is none of
ours.”
But Tom Phinney, once his head
was set, was not easily turned aside.
“No telling what devilish conspiracy
is afoot, Ruddy,” he urged; “it’s our
duty as good citizens to interfere if
we have some reason to think that—”
“Slush!” remarked Mr. Van Vech-
ten without feeling. “I am not a good
citizen. According to Paige, I belong
to the least desirable class of all—the
spenders, the wasters of substance.
And I toil not, neither do I spin.”
Tom snorted his disgust at such sen-
timents.
OVERALLS AND PANTS
Made by Galveston Union Gir is for Galveston Union
Men. Your Dealer Has Them or Can Get Them
Regular Galveston-Houston trains
8:10 a. m. and 4:00 p. m. Returning
leave Houston 7:00 a. m., 7:55 a. m.,
5:00 p. m., 10:00 p. m.
$2.00 RSd $2.00
On Sale Daily. Limit 30 Days
“ALL GHAIR CAR SERVICE”
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Young, J. W. Galveston Labor Dispatch (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 2, No. 17, Ed. 1 Friday, November 14, 1913, newspaper, November 14, 1913; Galveston, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1447619/m1/3/: accessed May 21, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Rosenberg Library.