Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

196 “ Did he offer any explanation, without questions or replies from you, as to what had occurred and how it had occurred?” “Only what I have said.” ‘“‘ What else, if anything, did you observe about the demeanor or appearance of Mr. Fitch, up to this time, while you were in the library with him?” “ Very little, except a wrinkle on his shirt front and the odd look on his face.” ‘What do you mean by ‘ odd look?’”’ Noble Howard rose. ‘‘ That evidence is immaterial, unless the odd look had some external cause—such as might result, for instance, from a struggie.”’ “Tf the witness is allowed to state what he saw, it may be most material,” said Myers. ‘What could be more material than the way Mr. Fitch conducted himself? Suppose he was weeping, violently—what then?” “The witness may answer,” ruled Cor- oner Cleves. “ Well,” said O’Brien, ‘‘ he looked in the face much the same as he always looked iver since I knowed him—only much more so.” “What do you mean by that?” ‘“‘ He looked as proud as a juke, and be- sides, he had a ‘ don’t-give-a-hoot ’ look on top of that, like a bat-out-o’-hell—excuse my langwidge—I’m doin’ my best.” Coroner Cleves rapped sharply at the slight titter and frowned. Hank Thomas made a note: “ Ducal disdain.” Mentally to himself he added: “It doesn’t mean much cr it may mean anything and everything.” The balance of O’Brien’s testimony was detail of Mr. Fitch’s trip to the station house and his turning over the prisoner and chauffeur to Acting Captain Overton. Noble Howard then took the police of- ficer in hand. “Did you ever see a ‘ juke ’?” he asked. “Only pitchers of ’em.” “ Ever see a ‘ bat-out-of-hell ’?” “ Only pitchers of ’em in a book.” “What book?”’ ‘A book with pitchers of hell and noth- ing much else in it, by a man by the name of Dan. I don’t remember his last name. 1 think he was Polish.” “Are you, by any possibility, referring to a book called ‘ Dante’s Inferno ’?” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “ T’ll have to hand it to you, Mister How- ard. I mind it now, thot’s the identical name.”’ ‘“ How long ago since you saw those pic- tures?” “Oh, I was a boy—couldn’t hardly read yet.” “But the impression the pictures you saw of these bats, from the locality you mentioned, was so like Mr. Fitch’s facial expression, that you immediately compared his appearance to this extxremely remote mental image?” “Mostly as to the turrible proud look he wore,” explained O’Brien, “ not so much because the surroundin’s reminded me of the place the book mentioned.” “ That’s all,” snapped Howard. Hank Thomas confided to James Mont- gomery Hardy, sotto voce: “T’ll_ say, O’Brien is a good cop. Well, who is. the next actor on the ‘cold meat’ bill, as Mr. Shakespeare might phrase it, if he were here and wearing your checked suit?” Mr. Hardy shuddered. ‘I think you are very uncouth if not horrid,” he opined. “Thought transference, Jimmie. Noble Howard thinks the same thing of Sergeant O’Brien. O’Brien put an awful wrinkle in his client’s shroud with that ‘ turrible proud look’ remark. The jury feel just the same as if Mr. Fitch got right up here and shouted: ‘I did it. I’m glad I did it.’ ” CHAPTER IV. THE BLOODHOUND. IMON MORDAUNT was next sworn. He was Mr. Fitch’s chauffeur. The night of the mayor’s demise he had been working in the garage, “ fixing the timing-gears on the limousine, as it was missing.”” He didn’t know what time it was when he went into the servants’ quarters on the ground floor to get some lunch, being rather hungry. He was drinking a glass of lemonade when Mrs. Meredith came in, and asked him to go to the police station and get an officer. He suggested telephoning, but the wire wasn’t working. ‘Did you hear the shot fired, when you were downstairs?”’ EOPMICGLOOOKS (E@)