Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 53: what you’re looking at

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

THIEVES’ “What did you do about it?” Barry asked the question almost timidly. He felt as one eavesdropping outside a confessional. “Do about it?’ Nick’s voice was shrill with righteousness. “ We went out and took the stuff from their drop off. Had it loaded into one of their own trucks and they couldn’t squawk. they didn’t dast fight us; but G—wasn’t they sore!”’ ‘“ Now what?” prompted Barry. “ Now we want to get the stuff out of our drop-off into the plant of a big fence, a bozo ’at runs a storage ware- house and keeps it filled from sub base- ment to roof with plunder lifted by half the good mobs in the East. He pays fair prices for the stuff he buys, too. Just the same he takes watching.” “ How does he get away with it?” Barry tried to inject something of dishonest admiration into his tone. “Him? Say, he’s got an airtight system. A slick baby. Never buys anything direct from the mob that gets it. Insists on regular papers. “How often do you hear of a big fence going up the river, and why not? ‘Cause they don’t. They get rich. “One of the big fur businesses in this town was built up by a man who traded in stolen furs. And you'll find ‘em in the diamond business, in the silk business and all the rest. Not many; but a few in every business. They make a lot of money, but they don’t have none of the fun of the business. Come on, let’s go.” Nick led the way back to the pool room and as they walked Barry asked him boldly if he did not think he was taking a big chance on a stranger. “ Tisten,’ directed Nick, “ you could go tell everything I’ve told you to the erand jury—if the district attorney would let you—and would they believe you? No. “Or if they did, could the district attorney get a conviction? “Boy, if it was as easy as all that there wouldn't be any crime wave. This MARKET. 619 bozo Korbeck would get a better law- yer than there is in the service of the govamint. “Tf the district attorney was a good lawyer he wouldn’t want to be a dis- trict attorney. It’s the advertising that makes ‘em take that job and good law- yers don’t need advertising.” They walked half a block, Barry silent; Nick whistling. “ Another thing,’ resumed Nick, “don’t get the idea ma sap. A bit ago [ let slip Korbeck’s name. In this business a squealer’s life is a short one, all right, but it is a long way from being merry. “Remember Kid Mularkey? Di’n’t you read about him? Criminy! They shot him -down on the steps of the Tombs right after he testified. “That happens every week, only not on the steps of the Tombs. Get me?” “ Sure,” agreed Barry, “I get you.” As a matter of fact Barry was feel- ing wretchedly unclean from a sense of disloyalty. This crook who had offered with such engaging flattery to make him a rich prize fighter had winning qualities along with others that were undeniably detestable ones. But Barry was not enjoying the role of spy, and from time to time cold shivers of dread chased up and down his spine as he thought of Jane Camp- bell in contact with these thieves. His fancy made him miserable by picturing her trying to flee from the pursuit of a leering Korbeck. CHAPTER XI. THE PORT OF MISSING GOODS. T was a couple of days later that Nick invited Barry to go along as a sort of supercargo with the truck- load of stolen silk to the warehouse of Morris Korbeck. “'Y’ ain’t taking a chance even of stubbing your toe,” explained Nick. “That truck’s a regular one that we hired and the driver don’t know what COMME DOOKS (E@)