Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 154: what you’re looking at

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

144 ner near the desk light. Well, good- by, old pal.” I extended my hand and felt for Bill in the darkness. “Good-by, nothing,” retorted Bill. “You leave it to me.” There was the snap of a button, and the light above the desk illuminated the tiny room. “That’s right—make it easier for him to shoot straight,” I said. “If he started firing at us in the dark, he might mangle us all up before he killed us. Now he'll be able to take good aim. We're cornered like a couple of rats in a trap.” “Tf you refer to the same brains that got us into it, we’re goners for sure,” I remarked sarcastically. Bill had planked himself down in the chair, and had taken the telephone re- ceiver off the hook. He twiddled the hook up and down impatiently. “ Give me police station,” he direct- ed the operator curtly. “ Police station!’ I echoed. I concluded that Bill’s mind had siven way completely under the stress of our predicament. Didn’t we have enough trouble on our hands without dragging in the police? as There was a shuffling noise outside the door. “ Hello, lieutenant!” Bill was shout- ing into the telephone. “Hello! This the lieutenant?” The door opened. Framed in the opening was the figure of a husky-look- ing individual. As he saw Bill and me, his hands whipped like a flash to his belt and came up clutching a wicked- looking automatic. In his other hand was an electric lantern. “ Oh, it’s all right, lieutenant. He’s here. He just camein.” Bill slammed up the receiver. Mingled surprise and anger were plastered on the countenance of the watchman. “We're glad to see you, Mr, Watch- man,” said Bill genially. “‘ Jones and ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. I happened to be passing and noticed that the door was open. We came in, You were not anywhere around and we - were afraid you had met with foul play. Just called the station to ask the lieutenant for instructions as you were walking in the door.” The watchman sheepishly slipped his automatic back into his belt, and placed his lantern on the desk. ““T just stepped out to speak to Wil- liams over at the bank. I wasn’t gone for more than two minutes,” he said apologetically. “You hadn’t ought to leave the premises at all,” said Bill severely. “Come on, Jim, we’ve got to get along.” Bill rose to his feet and headed for the door. “Just a minute, please!” The watchman rummaged through the odds and ends on his desk and produced a handful of cigars. “ Here, divvy these up,” he directed. “ You won’t say any more to anybody about this, will you?” His tone was pleading, “We won't, if you won't,” agreed Bill as he pocketed the cigars. “TI promise you I won't,” declared the watchman fervently. He escorted us to the outer door, bid us good night, and we headed down the passway to the street. “Well, I don’t see that thousand we were going to get,”’ I remarked sarcas- tically. “What’s a mere thousand beside what we actually got out of this?” said Bill disdainfully. “ And what in thunder did we get out of it?’ I demanded. Bill grinned. “We've got our lives; they’re worth a pile—to us; we've got experience, that’s priceless; and we’ve got some good smokes.” Bill bit off the end of one cigar and handed me another. _If optimism was brains, Bill would be a prodigy. THE END 9A (E) .OOKS coin