Children of the Whirlwind | Page 8

year before he was sent
away. You must have seen a lot of him, and got to know him well."
"Oh, he used to come down now and then to see his grandmother--I
was only fifteen or sixteen then--just a girl, and he didn't pay much
attention to me. Father can tell you better just how smart he is."
Old Jimmie spoke up promptly. He knew Hunt was not a police stool,
and he liked the painter as much as it was in him to like any man; so he
felt none of the reserve or caution that might have controlled him in
other company.
"You bet Larry's smart! Got the quickest brain of any con man in the
business--and him only about twenty-seven now. Some think I'm a

smooth proposition myself, but Larry puts it all over me. That's why
I'm willing to let him be my boss. He's a wonder at thinking up new
stunts, and then at working out safe new ways of putting them across."
"But the police landed him at last," commented Hunt.
"Yes, but that was only because another man muffed his end of the
job."
The handsome Barney Palmer had been restless during Old Jimmie's
eulogy. "Oh, Larry's all to the good--but he's not the only party that's
got real ideas."
"Huh!" grunted Old Jimmie. "But you'll remember that we haven't put
over any big ones since Larry's been in stir."
"That's been because you wouldn't listen to any of my ideas!" retorted
Barney. "And I handed out some peaches."
Even during the period of Larry's active reign it had irked Barney to
accept another man as leader, and it had irked him even more during
the interregnum while Larry was guest of the State. For Barney
believed in his own Napoleonic strain.
"Don't let yourself get sore, Barney," Old Jimmie said appeasingly.
"You'll have plenty of chances to try out your ideas as the main guy
before you cash in. You know the outfit wanted to lay low for a while,
anyhow. But we'll be putting over a lot of the big stuff when Larry gets
out."
Hunt had noted a quick light come into Maggie's dark eyes while her
father praised the absent leader. He himself suddenly perceived a new
possibility.
"Maggie, ever think about teaming up with Larry?" he demanded, with
his audacious keenness.
She flushed, and hesitated. He did not wait for her slow-coming reply,

but turned to her father.
"Jimmie, did Larry ever use women in his stunts?"
"Never. Whenever we suggested using a skirt, Larry absolutely said
there was nothing doing. That's one point where he was all wrong.
Nothing helps so much, when the sucker is at all sentimental, as a
clever, good-looking woman. And Larry'll come around to it all right.
He'll see the sense of it, now that he's older and has had two years to
think things over."
Old Jimmie nodded, showing his yellow teeth in a sly grin. "You said
something a second ago: Maggie and Larry! They'll make a wonder of
a team! I mean that she'll work under him with the rest of us. I've been
thinking about it a long while. Mebbe you haven't guessed it, but we've
been coaching her for the part, and she's just about ripe. She's got the
looks, and we can dress her right for whatever job's on hand. Oh,
Larry'll put over some great things with Maggie!"
If Hunt felt that there was anything cynically unpaternal in this father
planning for his daughter a career of crime, he gave no sign of it. His
attention was just then all on Maggie. He saw her eyes grow yet more
bright at these last sentences of her father: bright with the vision of
approaching adventure.
"The idea suits you, Maggie?" he asked.
"Sure. It'll be great--for Larry is a wonder!"
Barney Palmer suddenly rose, his face twisted with anger. "I'm all fed
up on this Larry, Larry, Larry! Come on, Jimmie. Let's get uptown."
Wise Old Jimmie saw that Barney was near an outburst. "All right,
Barney, all right," he said promptly. "Not much use waiting any longer,
anyhow. If Larry comes, we'll fix it with the Duchess to meet him
tomorrow."
"Then so-long, Maggie," Barney flung at her, and that swagger

ex-jockey, gambler, and clever manipulator of the confidence of people
with money, slashed aside the shabby burlap curtains with his wisp of a
bamboo walking-stick, and strode out of the room.
"Good-night, daughter," and Old Jimmie crossed and kissed her. She
kissed him back--a perfunctory kiss. Maggie had never paused to think
the matter out, but for some reason she felt little real affection for her
father, though of course she admired his astuteness. Perhaps her
unconscious lack of love was due in part to the