Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

THIEVES’ Nick’s fingers extended themselves against the switch handle. It was hardly an act of his will. A’ third of the room flooded with light. Standing there as if on a stage was a blue-coated policeman, two vertical rows of brass buttons catching the ‘light and shining bravely. There sounded a faint clicking. The policeman’s right hand was fumbling under the skirts of his heavy coat. “Come on out, you—” he was say- ing when there was a great roar of sound, as deafening in that confined space as a clap of thunder. The plume of coppery flame was a living thing in the darkness. Nick was hardly conscious of the impulses that had tightened his fingers and aimed that angular weight of metal against which his hand was sweating; but he tugged the darkness back into the room by dragging at the switch handle. Only the light of the pistol flash con- tinued to glow in front of his eyes. There was no sound for a percep- tible interval, during which Nick clutched the pistol butt, kept hold of the light switch and bit hard on his lower lip to keep from crying aloud with excitement. Then he heard: “May ye roast in hell.” After that there was a sound of something falling heavily to the floor. It sounded as if a sack of potatoes had been dropped. Nick, N ick, he’s down!” That was Johnny. “TI think you must have killed him.” “ Shut up you pockmarked—” ‘All of the moments in the years he had been rehearsing this murder were bunched then in Nick’s memory, and he knew himself for a fool. It took all his will power to muster the strength to throw the light switch once more. Every nerve in his body seemed to twitch under the stress of a panicky desire to run and run. But when he did turn on the light Nick walked over, 4A MARKET. 625 | pistol muzzle held at his hip in line with the spot where that policeman had stood. The blue clad body was lying face down, the fingers of one relaxed hand were limp against the pearl handle oi a revolver in a hip pocket holster. Nick’s nostrils were filled with the acrid odor of burned powder. ‘A’ wet spot was widening about a small tear in the broad expanse of blue coat. “Clean through him,” gasped Johnny at his elbow. “Help me roll it under a table,” he said curtly, and pushed at the hips of his victim. Johnny shoved at the shoulders and Nick’s teeth began to chatter as he saw the head roll to one side so that the open, filmy eyes seemed to gaze at him. “What are you going to do?” Johnny seemed to be trying to speak soothingly. “ You can’t leave this bull here very long, Nick. You gotta do something.” “T know,” agreed Nick. “I’m go- ing out after some dough. I may de- cide to lam out of it. You watch the place till I get back.” “ Like hell I will! When you go out of here I go out with you. Lock the dump up. “T always thought you was a wise one. Now you do some fast thinking or you'll burn in Sing Sing. If you’d kept your head we could have fixed an alibi for you easy.” Johnny made hissing sounds as if to express some of his contempt for the lack of judgment that had brought on this situation. “All right,” growled Nick, conibats ting a sudden desire to give way to something very like seasickness. “‘ Stay. with me till I see can I get some jack.' Will you do that, huh? Johnny, will you?” “Where are you going?” Johnny’s manner was decidedly cold. “T’m going to see Korbeck. Try and get some more of that fur jack EOPMMIC OOO KS (E@)