Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 151: what you’re looking at

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

142 “ Hell, no! When the young man raised the window and assisted Amos to an exit,‘ Dooling moved suddenly upon him, to be met with a laugh. “Don’t worry; I’m not going to slide down the fire-escape,” said Ray; and at the door he paused again. “Oh, just one thing more, old man. I want to write a note for the hall boy—to have my mail at- tended to. You don’t mind?” “Say, you must be expecting to be put away for a long time, kid!” “Well,” Ray smiled, ‘‘ when a man’s accused of murder—” “ Murder!” Dooling’s blue eyes bulged. “Ts that what they want—” “T said when a man is accused, Doo- ling.” “ Kiddin’ me, are you! Well, cut this stallin’ short; it m gettin’ tired—” Ray assured him he would be ready in a minute now, and he was—within five minutes. At the elevator a young woman joined them a little breathlessly. She was dressed for the streets and seemed hurried. Her cheeks were very pink and’ her eyes bright. “ Helen!” Ray exclaimed. “Why, Stanley!” Ray took the detective by the arm. ‘My friend Mr. Dooling,” he said cere- moniously. ‘“‘ This is my sister I’ve spoken about, Mr. Dooling.” “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” declared Mr. Dooling, playing up like a. true gentleman, albeit a very red one. “ Mr. Dooling and I were just going out —on business,” Ray explained as they rode down in the elevator. The young lady smiled and said, “ In- deed?” Her eyes met Stanley Ray’s, and the glance they exchanged was significant of a great many unspoken things. She blushed a little more, as if she guessed some of the things Ray was thinking. The hall of the Grandonquin Apart- ments is quite an ornate affair, full of marble and red carpets and leaded glass and uncomfortable period chairs. There is a cigar stand and a desk for the uni- Anythin’ to oblige, buddy.” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. formed colored boy, clerk, and glass tele- phone booths. The colored boy stopped the trio as they passed his desk. ‘ Mistah Ray, suh, is they a Mistah Dooling in your apahtment?” ‘This is Mr. Dooling, Percy.” “Telephome call foh you, Mistah Doo- ling. Pahty wants you to phome the of- fice right off, suh.” “ Hell!” said Dooling. ‘Sure about that, boy?” : Percy was emphatically sure. Dooling hesitated. “There’s a phone booth just behind those pillars,” the young woman suggested helpfully. ‘And we'll wait for you right outside,” Ray added. Dooling’s face cleared when he saw the booth was of glass. He lifted the tele- phone receiver from its hook and gave his number, leaving the door open. When the connection was made he gave a final glance about to be sure his prisoner was at hand. Then, assured that Stanley Ray was deeply engrossed in the young’ woman he called sister, Dooling pulled to the folding door. The pair outside became suddenly active at Dooling’s first low-voiced, cautious, “This is Dooling, Terry.” From her hair the young woman snatched a long, dagger-shaped pin with an ornamental head, and, stooping, slipped it into the crack of the phone booth door. Then she and Ray hurried away together, slowing their pace as they passed out of the imposing entrance to the Grandonquin. Once outside, Ray seized her arm and hurried her to a motor-car. She was swept to a seat and the car left the curb with a flying leap. Cross-town a couple of blocks, around a corner into a wide, one-way street, and so, like the wind, southward. The young woman laughed mischievous- ly. ‘Old Mr. Snodgrass, one of the ten- ants, was in that booth half an hour the other night, kicking and swearing terribly before anybody heard him,” she confided to Dooling. “ The door is a little out of order. It gets stuck fast—and that pin will jam it faster.” Go DOOLK (C@