Jubilee Trail by Gwen Bristow Page A

away,” he assured them. “Don’t you worry about that.”
    Oliver addressed Mr. Maury. “Would you mind telling me,” he asked with dignity, “how this respectable hotel happens to be harboring a criminal?”
    Mr. Maury wrung his hands. “Now Mr. Hale, how could I know who she was? She came and went like anybody else and paid her rent on time. How could I tell she was wanted for murder?”
    “Murder!” gasped Garnet. This time she was not acting. She sat forward, wide-eyed with horror.
    Mr. Kimball nodded solemnly. “Yes ma’am, murder.” He went on, to let them know he was only acting like a good citizen when he came to their room. “You can see that in a case like this we got to look out for everything. Desperate character she is,” he repeated.
    Garnet had never seen a desperate character. But she remembered Florinda’s gaiety, her easy friendliness; the description simply did not fit. “Are you sure?” she begged.
    “Yes ma’am,” the big man returned with emphasis. “Shot up a gambling house right in the middle of New York city, she did, shot it all to pieces, killed two men, two of them.”
    Garnet gave a little gasp. Of course. The Selkirk murder. Somebody had shot Mr. Selkirk and another man in a gambling house. But not Florinda! No, no, no. She heard Oliver ask,
    “But who on earth is this woman?”
    “If you mean what’s her name, sir, I can’t say I rightly know. Don’t guess anybody knows for sure. She changes her name every year or two, and with good reason, no doubt about it. Past few months she’s been performing at a place downtown called the Jardeen dess Flowers, under the name of Juliette La Tour.” He took a notebook from his pocket and began turning the leaves importantly. “Before that, she was doing her stuff at the Jewel Box in New York.”
    “The Jewel Box!” Garnet echoed.
    “Yes ma’am. Not a place you’d ever go to if you was in New York. At that time she was calling herself Charline Evans.”
    “And her crimes have been so dangerous,” said Oliver, “that the New York police had to send a small army after her?”
    “Oh, we ain’t the regular police, sir. Wouldn’t trust the police for this,” he boasted. “You know how stupid them fellows are, can’t see what’s in the same room with them.” Enjoying his spot as the center of attention, he elaborated with gusto. “Truth is, we was hired private.”
    “Private?” Oliver repeated with a puzzled frown.
    “Yes sir. You see, one of these men she killed was a fine gentleman, yes indeed, had a beautiful home and just the sweetest young wife you ever saw, heartbroken the poor lady is. Name of Selkirk.”
    Garnet did not hear Oliver’s answer. The big man’s words had scalded her mind. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.
    The big man was still talking. “Yes sir, I’ll tell you how it was. She shot Mr. Selkirk because, well, to be frank, he’d been keeping her when he was a bachelor. You know how some of them rich men are with actresses. But when he got married, he told this fancy woman he was done with her, just like a high-minded man ought to do. But she wouldn’t let him go. He was her last chance, you see. She was through at the Jewel Box. Not that them girls at the Jewel Box are supposed to be angels, but she’d got too drunk and disorderly even for them.”
    Garnet felt a stab of wrath. Florinda was not drunk and disorderly. Last night she had ordered milk with her supper, and this morning she had refused a glass of wine. Garnet looked anxiously at Oliver. He was not looking at her, but she saw a tiny crinkling at the corner of his eye. She had seen it before. It meant that Oliver was being very polite, but that he was faintly, privately amused.
    The big man went on. “She pestered poor Mr. Selkirk and pestered him, but he told her as plain as he could that he was through. So finally, when she found out he meant what he said, she followed him to the Alhambra Gambling Palace one night. The