The Argosy, April 1916 — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

100 big blond lady could do it, even if Barry told him the lady was twice as big and blond as she really had been. It was a perfectly true story, but it wasn’t probable a bit. Barry wouldn’t have believed it himself. Just what a policeman would believe did not make pleasant conjecture. Barry knew mighty well that no policemen would let him walk away without finding out a lot more than he could tell. Also he knew that, some four or five blocks from the far end of Washington Bridge an excited wom- an had just told a policeman about seeing a young man go through the pockets-of a doped passenger in a big red runabout. By now the policeman had undoubtedly turned the story into the precinct station house by telephone. By now it had proba- bly been relayed to the precinct through which he was driving, and to every other precinct. And, in five minutes, or whenever that particular policeman and every other po- liceman rang his bell to tell the ser- geant he was on the job, there would be Heaven only knew how many eyes all over town looking for a big, red runabout being driven by a young man with a big, fat one beside him. There was but one thing to do. He must get out of that car and away from it, and must do it quickly. But how far would he have to go before he could safely drop a big, red runabout with a big, fat man in it? The question did not amuse Barry a bit, as it formed itself in his mind. It amused him less when he picked .a quiet house on a side street and slowed up to its curb, only to have a man step out and look at the car with evident curiosity. A second attempt was frustrated by the face of a still more curious little girl peering down from the first story window of the next house. A third attempt brought a uni- formed flunkey hurrying from the door, and before the fourth attempt was attempted at all another policeman hove into view. To be sure he could take the chance any- where. Certainly, if he -vere arrested and held for examination he could get Bernice to come and corroborate his wild yarn. Only he was not sure whether he wouldn’t prefer to be sent to prison. Bernice had little enough apparent respect for his mentality as it was. And she had disapproved of his act at the beginning. THE ARGOSY. If it had only been Elsie Simmons—but it wasn’t Elsie Simmons; it was Bernice Meredith. And he was to live with Bernice Meredith the remainder of his life. A man doesn’t need to be married to see that it would be fatal to happiness to give a wife such a concrete example of his ability to make a mess of anything he undertook. But what was he to do with the car and the fat sleeper? He kept on. He madea dozen more attempts to stop without being observed. If, he considered, he should get out and run, he would excite more sus- picion; if he got out and walked, he would give too much time. People seemed to be eying the car a lot more than they had been doing at first. But no wonder. He suddenly perceived that the last turn had jarred the sleeper’s head from its position against the brace of the top. The cap had rolled off the bald dome and this was wobbling ludicrously, perilously, startlingly, at every jolt. For a sickening moment Barry thought the fellow had died. But a grunt reassured him, as a lurch into a hole in the asphalt shook the heavy man’s frame. He pushed the fat body toward the end of the seat again, tried to force the head into its former position. Barry risked a backward glance through the glazed window in the curtain. His last hope faded. It seemed that three out of the last five men he had passed were rubbering back for a laugh at the too obvious “‘souse.”’ Not a chance in the world of leaving the car unobserved now. “Well, bob, darn you!” he snarled at the rolling head, as he made a less gentle and no more effectual second attempt to make it stay put. “Bob, confound you! You big, pickled fish, you’ve just got yourself to thank for the fix you’re in. You needn’t try to make it any worse for a fellow that’s been boob enough to try to help you out of it. Just for that, I’m going to—” He had given no consideration to the idea before. It had seemed too risky to leave the unconscious man in a really out- of-the-way place, where help might come too late to save life. But that infernal, at- tention-attracting bobbing head was too much for him. “Yes, sir, I’m going to beat it with you to the loneliest spot I can find. And I don’t care if you stay there till the crows pick your bones.” As if to help him carry out his resolu- CoOnmicoooks C@