Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

S04 chair.. He proceeded to the opposite side of the street, and measuring off with his eye the distance from the lamp-post to where the fallen man’s head had rested over the curb, he followed the racing gutter for several yards down past the farther ware- house to where the turbid flow was sepa- rated by a pile of refuse. There, impaled on a barrel stave he found the sodden, shapeless brown mass that had once been a soft felt hat and retrieving it, he carefully examined the inner side of the crown with the aid of the flashlight. The gilt lettering denoting the maker on the sweatband was so soaked as to be illegible, but two initials showed plainly in the tiny, gleaming ray: ¢¢ B. Pp? With his trophy McCarty returned to the station house to find Keenan and his superior with their heads together over a key-ring. ‘“There’s the hat, or what’s left of it.” He deposited the drenched, pulpy article beside the body on the floor as he spoke. “Terry, here, was watching the guy pass him and he says he was hooched up for fair, so likely there’ll be nothing further come of this after his folks haul him away from the morgue, but if I’m wanted to swear that ’twas bootleg lightning and not the regular kind hit him, Inspector Druet or any of the old crowd at headquarters will know where to find me. fll be getting on home, for I’m soaked to the skin—” “Take a look at these first, McCarty.” The lieutenant invited. ‘‘ Hooch or no hooch, I’m going to find out what this bird was doing in my precinct. If that jewelry’s phoney it don’t go with the rest of his out- fit and if it’s real, what was he doing down this way with it on? Don’t make any crack about his relying on us to protect him, for you walked your beat here yourself in the old days and the district hasn’t changed much! What do you make of it?” McCarty turned over the articles present- ed for his inspection with a carelessly criti- cal air. “ Handkerchief, kid gloves, Wareham gold filled watch, pigskin cigar case with two broken cigars in it, sixty—seventy dol- lars and eighty cents in change,” McCarty enumerated rapidly. ‘‘ Nothing here marked ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. and no letters nor papers, eh? That scarf pin and those cuff buttons, fakes or not, are what they call cat’s-eyes, I’m thinking, {s that all except the key-ring?”’ ‘Tt is, but if this bird purposely intended to leave everything off that would give him away to whoever he was going to meet he slipped up! Look at here!” Lieutenant Taggart spoke with an air of triumph as he separated the keys of all shapes and sizes on the ring to disclose a small, thin, much- worn disk of some dull metal, one side of which bore the single numeral “ 4,” and the reverse three letters in old English script: McCarty’s stubby mustache moved slightly as his lips tightened, but he shook his head. * What is it?”’ he asked in bland wonder- ment. “I'd say it looked like one of those identification tags in case he lost his keys, but if ‘N. Q. M.’ are his initials, what is the ‘ 4 9) The young lieutenant regarded him al- most pityingly. ‘““It was not meant for an identification tag exactly, McCarty; at least, not for any stranger that might happen to pick up these keys, but it “ll tell me more than just who this bird is and where he lived before I’m through!” “J hope so, lad!” But McCarty still shook his head. ‘‘ Happen, though, when the body is claimed you'll find he was Neil Quinn Malone, walking delegate for Steve- dores’ Union Number Four, and down here late for a date because of meeting up with some bootlegger’s first cousins!”’ ‘“There’s the ambulance!” Terry spoke suddenly as a bell clanged up the Street. His honest face had reddened and his tone was a mixture of forbearance and chagrin. “ Well, Ill take the air, boys—and the rain!” McCarty sternly repressed the twin- kle in his eyes. ‘‘ I’m chilled to the marrow of me, which does no good to the touch of rheumatism I’ve had lately, and I need no young sawbones in a white coat to tell me that guy is dead, even though there’s never a mark on him! Good luck to the two of you!” They responded with forced cordiality and he made his way out into the storm, bend- (©) Ccommicoooks inn