Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 27, 1925 — page 53: what you’re looking at

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

CROOKS WELCOME. reading about me in the papers. I’ll admit that it didn’t give you much time to ar- range the details, but—” ‘ But nothing,” snarled the crook leader. “Amateurs or professionals, we can deal with a sap like you. Forget the pen—a pencil will do for that note. Now start writing it before 1 count ten—or you won’t ever write anything any more.” He drew out a pistol with his right hand, while his left held his watch. His glance was sinister. Monty folded his arms and stared indif- ferently at his captor, ignoring the weapon. “One, two, three,” began the chief. Then, seeing his counting had not the in- vigorating effect desired, he broke off cross- ly: “ See here, do you think I won’t plug you if you don’t mind? Because 1 will.” “Very likely,” yawned Monty. “ Who knows? If it is fated, it is fated, and neither of us can stop it. Kismet!” “What's that?”? demanded the other. “That’s Arabic or something for fate,” explained Monty. ‘“ You and I haven't anything to say about it. If I’m due to cash in now, it will come off, whether you're here or not. On the other hand, if my time hasn’t come, you can’t pull the trick. Personally I don’t. believe I’m due yet. But if it’s written in the book, I’m not kicking.” “Do you really believe that stuff?” in- quired the chief, lowering his weapon and staring interestedly. “ Are you a—a—’”’ “ Fatalist,”’ supplied Monty, noting the interested look and making a shrewd guess. ‘ That’s me, mister. And I rather suspect that you are one, too, even if you didn’t know the right word.” “JT have been through some tight squeezes,” conceded the chief. ‘“ But I al- ways thought it was luck. Do many peo- ple believe this?” “Millions of ’em in Asia,” Monty in- formed him. “If you have to die at a certain time, why worry until that time comes?” “Tf that’s the way you feel about it, we'll try some other method until I get ready to bump you off,” announced the chief, dropping into his prisoner's mood. “I never did like to killa man on an empty 845 stomach. After Paul and I bave had some- thing to eat, we'll be in better shape. May- be after we've kept you cooped up a day or so with nothing to eat, you'll feel like writing.” ‘Nope. I’ve got writer’s cramp,” as- serted Monty. ‘I'm going to be a non- cooperator in this matter. Speaking of the Orient made me think of Ghandi. You probably read of him—even you. That fellow in India who refused to help his enemies. They put him in prison and he starved himself until he won out. That's what I’m going to do. You can kill me if you like, but I don’t think you want to kill the goose that pages the golden ege— meaning me. Only I’m not a goose but a Ghandi.” / ‘You'll feel different after you've starved a while,” predicted the chief. “ Run out, Paul, and get a big flock of eats. You and I will let this goof watch us feast. Maybe it ’ll get on his imagination.” “Tine,” enthused Monty. “I always wanted to fast a week. The doc prescribed it for my digestion, but I never had the will power to stick it out. Now I'll have to go through with it, and it ‘ll do me a lot of good.” ” ‘Arrh! He'll drive me bugs,” snarled the gunman whose name evidently was Paul Marto, as he rushed from the cabin. Left alone with the chief, Monty as- sumed a confidential manner. “IT couldn’t talk in front of him, but you'll understand,” he confided. ‘“ You see, I’m not the real Monty Craig. I’m his double. He hired me to draw attention away from him while he did his stuff. I'm a playwright. Or rather, I've always want- ed to be one. Now that I’m cooped up, Tl turn out that play I’ve always been intending to do. I took this job to study crooks at first hand for a crook drama, see? Dll just study your mugs for comedy char- acters. You’d hartily do for the leading role. Of course, if you can give me some good incidents for novel situations, I'll de- clare you in on the royalties.” The chief was holding his head and star- ing dolefully at his prisoner. “ Maybe if you can give me some good ideas I might make you the hero,” prat: COnniEaoo () SS Co