Wolcott LeCléar Beard

“ More quickly than the eye could follow, Don Miguel's hand flicked forward and back, once and then again.
It sent two of the ice-picks streaking through the air, their blades trailing behind them like the tails of small but efficient comets. The iron-bound handle of one struck the bartender between the eyes; that of the other, arriving immediately afterward, came into violent contact with the point of Mr. Shea's jaw. Both men dropped limply and lay quite still.
Hardly two seconds had passed, and it took Tim Murphy that time to recover from the second shock. Now his pistol flashed upward. ”

“ Now Don Miguel did not appear to be watching the fingers of Mr. Shea as the latter dealt those cards. He—Don Miguel—seemed to be wholly occupied in biting off the end of his cigar, an operation that he had overlooked when trying to light it. But he was watching, nevertheless; and he was, moreover, eminently qualified to watch, as a man who was practically the "whole show"—who was perhaps the only man living whose accomplishments ranged from feats of gigantic strength, through jugglery, to sleight-of-hand—must be qualified to watch a performance of this sort. ”

“ The strongest evidence of this wisdom, perhaps, lay in his guileful reference to Tim Murphy, which was a chance shot, but one which, nevertheless, rung a bull's-eye. Rosie's elbows were on the table now, and her face was hidden in her thin, work-scarred hands, from between the fingers of which a tear presently trickled, while her shoulders heaved with noiseless sobs.
"Would I like it!" she gasped forth after a little. "Would I like it! Faith, heaven itself, I'm thinkin', could offer no better. If Terry and me was alone, that is, not bothered by any one," she added as an afterthought. ”

“ Don Miguel ducked, and the chair missed him, to smash against the wall with a resounding crash. Tim's left fist followed the chair, also to miss its mark. With a gleam of polished metal, a pistol appeared in Tim's right hand, and a shot rang out, but the bullet drilled its way harmlessly into the paneled ceiling. For with a heave, which seemed too mighty by far, and too effortless to have been wrought by human hands, the table had risen from the floor. ”

“ Trade was slack at that time of day, and for the moment Don Miguel was alone save for a negligible party of minor political henchmen who conversed among themselves in mysterious undertones, hardly glancing up at the entrance of this semi-inebriated stranger.
Don Miguel pressed a button, and at the summons there appeared a bartender of truculent appearance, whose head was decorated with a "cauliflower" ear. Don Miguel ordered whisky, which was brought him. Diving into a pocket, he produced a roll of yellow-backed bills of a thickness that caused the bartender's eyes to glisten acquisitively. ”

“ He must be taught better. And yet, somehow, in the back of her mind, she liked being told exactly what to do, and given no choice in the matter—liked it vastly, in spite of herself. To have some one to lean upon, some one to order the life which she had found so hard to through its troubled waters, brought with it a sense of inexpressible relief. ”

“ With the same hand Don Miguel fished from his pocket that plethoric roll of bills, stripped off one, and tossed it to the cripple.
"Take that—and beat it," he said.
The cripple, obeying, vanished. Shoving back his chair, Mr. Shea rose and got behind it, as though for shelter. He was a rat of a man, Don Miguel decided, and, like a rat, would fight if cornered. But Terry, now—Terry was different.
Terry was confused and undecided. Tim Murphy—well, Mike O'Farrell knew him also. For the moment, startled and perhaps partially stunned, Tim was silent. But that wouldn't last. It didn't. ”

“ Shea became more saturnine still, and that Tim Murphy grew more surly even than he had been before. Tim's increase of ill-temper had, however, an additional cause quite independent of Don Miguel's shortcomings. It is always exasperating when a game of cards is interrupted, and this one was interrupted constantly. Necessarily interrupted, for one cannot be the political boss in a district of that sort without being also a—more or less—benevolent despot, distributing favors and largesse, many of which had not the slightest relation to politics. ”

“ One was Terry Burke; Don Miguel could have recognized him anywhere, if only by his resemblance to Rosemary.
Another, an obvious gambler of the less efficient type, and as obvious a henchman of Tim Murphy's, was passed with a glance. The third was Tim Murphy himself.
Murphy had aged since last Don Miguel had seen him. Murphy had lain on much flesh, and it was not entirely a good quality of flesh. It was largely owing to a soft life after an active one. A soft life, Don Miguel decided, with a good deal of hard liquor. ”

“ Clearly, according to the common practise in such cases, Tim Murphy and the amiable Mr. Shea intended to allow Don Miguel, their prospective victim, to win this first hand—to win it from poor Terry. It would save time, as they looked at the matter, and would be all the same at last—all the money would come to them. In no way, therefore, was Don Miguel surprised to find, when he picked up his cards, that two of those cards were queens. There are not many hands that will beat four queens. He did not wish to win from Terry; yet suspicions must not be aroused. ”

“ With a quickness that would have been marvelous in any one, but was doubly so in so large a man, he caught her in his arms and carried her, as he might have carried a baby, from the doorway into the street. ”

“ Her eyes were blazing, her muscles tensed with determination.
"You!" she cried. "You go and see Tim Murphy! Faith, it's a thousand dollars—no less—that he'd give for to have ye do that very thing, Mike O'Farrell, as he's told me a thousand toimes. You go there—the dirrty joint what he himself owns! But he owns more than that. He owns the disthrict, police and all. More, he can lick anny man in that disthrict, he says—anny two men, his friends say. What chance would you have with an outfit like that? Say!"
Don Miguel did not answer in words. He still held the poker. ”

“ Winning Rosemary Burke
by Wolcott Le Clear Beard
IN his swarthy, almost Moorish style, Don Miguel Farrello was undeniably handsome. His health was perfect. Also, he was prosperous—exceedingly prosperous. To all appearances, he was contented, as well. Even a bleak and bitter gale that howled and blustered through the streets failed to abate in the slightest degree his air of satisfaction with the world at large and his own position therein. ”

“ Go open the door av that taxi, quick!"
Terry did as he was told. Pausing long enough to make sure of the fact that the other room was empty, and to spring the lock on the outer door, thus securing it, Don Miguel bundled Rosemary and her brother into the waiting car. A word and a yellow-backed bill to the driver, and they moved swiftly away, to draw up before the door of Rosie's home.
"Gee!" said Terry, speaking for the first time since he left the saloon. "We'll never dare stop here! ”