Page:The Black Cat November 1916.djvu/20

16 conquest, asked for the Copley Hotel. When the connection was made he inquired for Mr. James, the name on the card.

"Don't know him," came back over the wire, after several minutes of waiting. "We have no guest of that name stopping here."

Uncle Myer hung up the receiver weakly, as a disquieting thought crowded upon him. He rushed wildly to the hotel, but there was nothing to add to the telephone conversation. Inquiry at other hotels brought no hope. Mr. James was an unknown person.

Toward his three-ball establishment Uncle Myer moved mechanically and when he had entered he found a seat. His suspicions developed into facts. Sadly from the safe he took the violin and hung it back on the hook, while all and sundry among the pledges seemed to join in the sneer, "An old master!"

"It's a new game for the crooks," Myer soliloquized. "And I it had to be that should be the victim and lose my hundred and fifty. What a slick pair of Jesse Jimmies."

No sooner had he reported the fraud to police headquarters than he received a visit from Max Klein, a neighboring pawnbroker. "Say, Goldman," asked Klein, as he entered, "did you get caught on the new violin game?"

"What business, tell me, is it of yours?" groaned Goldman. "For the post mortem cackle you come round."

"I came for the reason that misery likes company," said Klein. "They got me for a hundred and twenty-five. And you?"

"A hundred and fifty," reluctantly admitted Goldman. "Twenty-five dollars you're better off than I am."

"Who wouldn't get caught?" said Klein, consolingly. "They were a nifty pair of actors. Show me your fiddle."

Goldman obeyed, and then Klein shook his head knowingly. "Just like mine, a cheap new fiddle, fixed up to make it look old and valuable.

"I'll bet they're breathing a balmier climate by now," he gloomed, before returning to his own place.

When Goldman had made his day's report to the police and locked up securely, he wandered toward the white light district. He felt versed in the weaknesses of the unrighteous, and thought it just possible the pair who had duped him might be lingering where the cafés harbored the cabarets. Two hours of Sherlocking somewhat damped his ardor. He decided to begin to enjoy himself, sat down and ordered refreshments with which he really intended to refresh himself. An orchestra of three pieces, cornet, violin and piano, was playing an enticing waltz, and playing it well, considering the place and the hour. A very pretty girl adorned the piano stool, and the cornetist, an elderly chap, took such good care of her that Goldman thought he must be her father. The violinist stood outside the family group, fiddling cleverly. Goldman liked him because he was so different from the man who had pawned the fiddle. He should never care for pale men with flowing locks again. This chap had short black hair and a red face, the healthy glow of which included even