Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 7, 1928 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

“YOU'VE KILLED PRIVACY !” assistant, who had been guarding the grounds with him. Just before the muffled roar of the bomb came to their ears from over- head, Bill heard a twig snap in the mass of dark shrubbery behind the spot where he was stationed under the win- dows of Ward’s suite. He turned and dodged swiftly behind a bush, listen- ing intently in the direction of the sound. Not hearing it repeated, he stole for- ward in the shelter of the bushes, auto- matic in hand ready for use. He fan- cied he saw a shadow a little denser than the foliage. ““Who’s there? Stop! I’ve got ye covered!” he cried, springing forward. But the shadow he had seen appa- rently was nothing but a shadow. He heard the laugh of his assistant near by at the left. “What's the matter, asked. ‘‘ Seein’ things?” “Oh, was that you prowlin’ around, Joe?” Bill exclaimed in great relief. “T came near drillin’ ye.” But a moment later, from near the spot where Bill had heard the twig snap, a figure detached itself silently from the heart of a small cedar tree and hugging tight to the shrubbery hurried toward the rear of the grounds. Not far from the high wall that sur- rounded the estate he paused in a little clear space from which he could see the dim, dark bulk of the big house against the sky-line. A faint gleam from a street-lamp the other side of the wall fell on him for a moment. Bill, the gardener, would have been treated to a surprise if he had stuck to his first impression and followed the intruder. The man was in police uniform, but his face was not one that would have admitted him readily to any civilized police force-in the world. It was a dark, crafty face with close-set, gleam- ing eyes under a low brow, a distinctly criminal type. The fellow placed a police whistle 2A Bill?” Joe 161 between his lips and, holding a pair of night glasses to his eyes, studied the big house intently. After several min- utes there was a low-but sharp crack- ling in the direction of the wall behind him, a sound like a fire in dry brush. But apparently the man in the police uniform paid no attention to this. He continued to study the old house through the glasses. Then came the muffled, distant roar of the bomb in the inner room of Edi- son Ward’s suite. Still the fellow watched unperturbed for a moment longer. Then, with a snort of disgust, he lowered the glasses and removed the whistle from his lips. “Hell! Never cracked it!” he ex- claimed. ‘“‘ Redfern didn’t make his stuff strong enough after all his wise cracks about blowin’ up the old hut like an eggshell. Nothin’ doin’ on a raid now, even if the place wasn’t filthy with real cops!” A twig cracked near him, and the fellow dodged back into a clump of rhododendrons. “Judas Priest! Another one!’ he whispered, and after listening breath- lessly for a moment, began creeping si- lently toward the wall. At the foot of a big maple tree whose spreading branches overhung the wall, he paused and listened again, then began swiitly shinning up the trunk. On a level with the top of the wall he came to a large limb which hung far across the high spike-topped parapet. Getting astride this limb he hitched his way out across the wall and pres- ently lowered himself onto the porch roof of a shabby little house that stood just outside the Ward grounds. A moment he stood on the roof, lis- tening intently in the direction of the tree. Again he fancied he heard a sound of movement the other side of the wall. . “Guess maybe I’m gettin’ nutty an’ hearin’ things,” he whispered, and tip- toed over to a window under the low ?? COMIC MOOKS (C@)