The Argosy, Vol. 90 No. 1 — page 56: what you’re looking at

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

50 had been a trusty at the jail, and was never locked up. Schwartz had called out: “ Bring that fool along; he’ll raise the town!” Whereupon Lord had covered Happy with a stick in so dramatic a fashion that the small-headed man had immediately ac- cepted it as a gun. Gun-shy as a puppy, the fellow had immediately become docile, and Lord had dragged him out of the build- ing. Then, at the threshold, Schwartz had turned and shot the sheriff for sheer, wan- ton lust of killing. Of course, Lord’s conscfence acquitted him as to the sheriff. He was no stickler for the technicalities of law. But he knew he was to blame about Pinhead. So that shadow of fear kept trailing him. He was haunted by a feeling that some day he would have to give himself up; as if he and the district attorney must meet face to face in the end and decide what justice was. He put aside the thought of the district attorney, and his mind centered on Pin- head. He wondered where Pinhead was now. He had no mind to get along in a strange place. What if he had frozen or starved during the winter? He had been in mortal fear; for Schwartz had told him the law said he was a murderer, and the district attorney would surely get him hanged if he went back. He might very well die of hunger rather than surrender. Hilairy had not been able to hear any- thing about Pinhead. It seemed to Lord that the matter was getting on his nerves to-day and disturbing his balance. He had dwelt on it constantly since his own escape. Perhaps if he went out to walk in the dusk, the shadow of apprehension would let him alone. He walked till he was tired out. When he turned toward the flat again, the news- boys were calling the evening papers. Lord beckoned one of them and said: “ Bring me a States paper; a Denver Post or News.” When the boy had started to get him what he had asked for, he decided he did not want to see a Denver paper. He felt a little afraid. He was always afraid; yet he bought the Denver papers every day. THE ARGOSY. “Don’t get a Denver paper!” he shout- ed after his boy. “Bring a Toronto Gazette instead.” But the boy did not hear his correction, and presently returned with a Denver Post. Lord carried it up-stairs to his pleasant flat. Under the door he found a letter from Hilairy—square, white, sweet-scent- ed, and postmarked, through the Baylisses, somewhere in Missouri. He laid the letter and paper on the table in the room he had prepared for Hilairy. He took the paper before the letter. When he opened it and saw what ap- peared on the first page, the muscles tight- ened around his heart. He spread the pa- per flat on the table. What had caught his eye was the picture of Happy Appleby. The newspaper print was dim, but there was no mistaking that gorillalike body and small head. The camera had caught an expression familiar to Lord. The small eyes, like a porcupine’s, looked out, be- wildered. There was no rebellion in them, not even protest. It was as if the soul imprisoned behind that inadequate forehead would never try to penetrate the mystery of its own life. Pinhead would accept his new misery as he had always accepted his men- tal inferiority, as a simple fact. What must a being like that think of God’s jus- tice? Lord read the text: “ Happy” Appleby, Kahokia bandit and alleged murderer, who was captured yester- day. He read on until he came to a paragraph on an inside page: Under the law it will not be necessary for the district attorney’s office to establish which of the men did the actual killing. If it can be shown that all participated in the jail- breach, conspiracy can be assumed, and all will be held guilty in the first degree. Lord laid down the newspaper. A mo- ment later he took his knife and detached the first page, making great gashes in it, like a drunken man. He had made a little fire in the grate, to test whether it would draw. The window was open, the thin curtain blew in and out in a little wind of oO Comicbooe S CO