Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 3 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

HOW MANY CARDS? of the typical gangster, but there was some- thing more than the mere fear of being caught at housebreaking in his eyes; mortal - you know dat! terror looked out from them and M¢Carty’s grip on his collar tightened as he regarded the trembling youth. “What's in there?” he demanded, giv- ing the all but collapsed figure a violent shake. “JI don’t know where the devil is Clancy, but what did you jeave behind you in thet house?” ; ‘“‘T didn’t have nottin’ to do wit’ it, I’m tellin’ youse! I jast give it one look an’ beat it! De foist job I ever tried to put over, an’ now—”’ Bat a tattoo of heavy footsteps came poanding along the sidewalk and in another moment a blue-coated figure dashed up to “What’s goin’ dn here? Somebody rapped— Fer the love of Heaven, ‘tis you, Mac! And what have you there?” “What you should have had if you’d been on your beat, Clancy!” McCarty re- torted grimly. “A fme young second-story worker that [ve been trailing these four blocks and more, and nabbed just as he was scrambling out of the window of that white house there ater he had finished his job. ” ‘“‘] didn’t finish no job!” the youth cried desperately. ‘‘ Honest, I wasn’t in dere two seconds! If you ‘was trailin’ me, mister, I just give it a look aa’ started to make my getaway. Don't send me to de chair!” “ Chair, is it?” McCarty gave the police- man @ significant glance. ‘I’ve been try- ing to get out of him what he did do in there while I was waiting for you to show up. ” “ We'll tate him along and find out,” Clancy declared briefly. “No! Don't take me back to dat house!”. the wretched youth’-wailed: “I don’t wanna look at it again! I can’t—” Unheeding his protestations they dragged him back the few steps to the house where McCarty pointed to the opened window from which the subdued light filtering through the lace curtain fell in a delicately patterned square on the pavement. “Who Hives here?” he asked, as the Digitized by (Go ogle 291 policeman pressed the button at the en- trance door. ‘ Creveling, the millonaire,” Clancy re- sponded. “Not Eugene Creveling, the fellow who used to pull off all ‘those wild stunts on Broadway a matter of ten or fifteen years ago?” McCarty demanded. to call him Million-a-Month Creveling!” “YT dont know an about that,” Clancy asserted. “ Must Rave been before my time. All I know is, he’s got a grand- looking wife and barring the big entertain- ments they give, the house is the quietest on the block. Here, you! Quit that or TH give’ you a rap that’ll put you to sleep!” This to the struggling youth whe now, utterly unmerved, was sobbing wildly. “YT wonder if they’re all dead in here! Mac, go and try the other beil.” McCarty obeyed bat with no result. Save for the low light glowing from the _opea window the huge house might have been indeed a tomb. ‘“‘There’s nothing to it, Mac. We can’t get anything out of this bird either, now. You get a hold of him and Il -go m the way he did, through the window.” McCarty gripped the shabby sweater collat once more and Clancy jumped up, caught the sill and swung himself over it, sweeping the curtain agide. It fell again into place and for a minute there wes si- lence. A second bus rumbled past, a limousine or two and a prowling: taxi, but none saw the two figures huddled tense in the shad- ows. “Say, what are you, mister, a dick?” the youth whined, passing his sleeve across his slobbered face. “ If you trailed me like youse said, you know you didn’t hear not- tin’! You know I wasn’t dere long enough to croak him!” “Cfoak who?” demanded McCarty. “De guy in dere in de soup-an-fish, wit’ a bullet t’rough his chest! You know I didn't do it! Dere ain't a pill gone from my gat! If youse an’ de ball frarnes me—”’ There came a rattling of bolts and chains on the inner side of the huge entrance, door, and it divided and swung slowly inward, re- vealing Clancy standing grave-faced in the “They used on ; | g le al fron NG (S a OO 1@ So C@