Argosy, Vol. 122, No. 1 — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

86 “She was Mr. Maywell’s cousin, Miss — Allaine Maywell. I got her out of her brother’s studio at No. 288 Vandam Street at the height of the fire. I have an idea that she feels grateful enough to me to testify—if I ask her—before the deputy commissioner.” Prandle glared at him in amazement and chagrin. He stuttered at last: ‘Is this straight? You giving me the right dope? For, if you ain’t—” ‘“T’m not fool enough to try to put any- -thing over on you, Mr. Prandle,” inter- rupted Vale, which was of course compli- mentary to the district leader. “ As for being dog enough to identify an innocent man to please you—or Andrew Maywell— you’ve got me wrong. It isn’t being done this year—not in good society. Don’t ask me to undertake such a job.” He got up leisurely. Prandle sat back in his chair again and shook an angry fist at the policeman. ‘You young fool!” he hissed. ‘‘ You’re just as independent as a hog on ice—and you're due for the same kind of a fall. Get me? When I set out to do a thing, I put it through. I’ll—get—you—yet! And you won’t get by on any bluff. Ill have this thing looked up, and if you are trying to put over anything—well, there’ll be hell to pay, and don’t you forget it!” CHAPTER XIII. THE EDGE OF THE UNDERWORLD. WITHOUT replying to the final tirade of the district leader, Vale walked out of the coffee-house. The empurpled countenance of Smooth Dick Prandle be- trayed the rage that mastered him for the moment. But self-control was not lacking in his makeup. Otherwise he would never have arrived at his present bad eminence. He heaved his bulky body out of the chair and went to the telephone booth in the corner. When the door was closed he dropped a nickel in the slot and asked central for a number. “Tell Mr. Maywell it is Prandle talk- , ing.” <A short wait; then: ‘‘ Yes, this is Dick Prandle. Yes. I just seen the cop.” THE ARGOSY. “Yes?” came Andrew Maywell’s suave voice over the wire. ‘Is he amenable to discipline?”’ ‘“He’s flossy,” replied Prandle bluntly. ‘“He’s got more than a streak of Old Dan in him, too.” ‘There are ways of influencing such people,” suggested the lawyer bruskly. “Yep. But we didn’t hit on the right trail this time.” . ‘“What? How about Canniff’s report about that fire?”’ ‘“Nothing doing,” said Prandle firmly. “Tf we follow that lead we'll be pinning medals on the lad.” ‘What do you mean?” Prandle explained with brevity. ‘“‘ Be- sides,” he added, “‘ the dame he saved from the fire was the sister of the lad you want identified. Get me? Yes! Your cousin, Miss Maywell. So he says. Ain’t it hell how things come around? What—”’ He halted to listen to several sentences emphatically put by the criminal lawyer, who concluded with: ‘““And remember, Dick! I want that fellow put in his place without fail. Make no mistake. Show him who’s who and. what’s what. I don’t want to hear from you again until that cop is ready to give his evidence. Understand?” Prandle came out of the booth very warm, both physically and mentally. He bit off the end of a cigar and chewed it angrily for some minutes, slumped down in his favorite armchair behind the table. Then he tapped the bell for the waiter. ‘“T told Slim to hang around. Can you find him?” ‘“‘ Sure, boss,” rejoined the waiter, and, departing, soon sent in the rat-eyed indi- vidual who had accosted Harry Vale out- side the Tenth Precinct station. ‘Slim, here’s a job for you,” said Pran- dle briefly, ‘‘ with a good piece of coin in it that only needs be divided three ways. Three can do it. Get me?”’ ‘“‘T’m wise, boss,” said Slim, licking his lips like the hungry wolf he was, and slid into the chair that Vale had occupied. Twenty minutes later, when he had lis- tened to the setting forth of Prandle’s in- structions, he barked, “I’m wise, boss,” cComiclbooks.com