Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 21, 1922 — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

72 ‘How do you know I was talking to her?” he asked. Simpson brushed the question aside with a big, impatient hand. “IT know you were,” he said. ‘“ That’s sufficient. I want to know what you talked about.” “T can’t drag her into this thing, Silent,” Shelby protested. Simpson laughed shortly. “Be as romantic as you like—when you're alone,” he said. ‘I haven’t time for that kind of thing. You’re in a hole. The police are looking for you everywhere. You want to get out into the sunlight again, don’t your” “You don’t think I killed Thornton, do you, Silent?” Shelby demanded. “Tf I thought you did I wouldn’t be here talking to you,” Simpson retorted. “T’d be hustling you off to jail, [ma policeman. Now, come right through, my boy. I’m pretty busy. I waited at home till now for you to call me up.” “Have you asked Miss Sutherland what we talked about?” “TI haven’t asked Miss Sutherland any- thing.” “TI know yow’re busy, Silent, and I know you have no use for anything but facts, but I'll have to ask you to let me go slow,” Shelby said. ‘‘ How did you know I met Miss Sutherland? I—there may be a rea- son why I shouldn’t talk about her.” “Oh, I know she was at Thornton's boarding-house last night,’’ said Simpson. “I saw you and her get on the car.” “We talked about Thornton,” Shelby said, and he repeated the conversation. ‘Did she say where she was while she was inside that house?” Simpson asked. “T didn’t ask her.” “She didn’t say whether she was in Thornton’s room?”’ “¢ Certainly not.” ‘“‘ That’s all I wanted to know,” Simpson said, pushing back his chair. . What do you-want me to do, enentr” Shelby asked. “‘Qh,; you seem to be doing all right by yourself,” Simpson answered. ‘“ You might keep in touch with me. I expect you’d do that, anyway. That your dinner-pail?” ‘ well be with her. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. <4 Yes.” “Got a job?” ¢ Yes.” ““T don’t think the police will pick you up then. If they do, it won’t matter much.” He rose and started for the door. Shelby felt a little of his old anger rise. Simpson didn’t seem to care what happened to him. He rose and followed Simpson into the street. A car stood at the curb. *¢ Silent, do you know who killed Thorn- ton?” he asked at Simpson’s side. ‘“‘ Tf I did,” Simpson returned, “ I’d have him in- jail.” He stood looking down at Shelby for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was kinder. “Call me up in a day or so,” he added. He got into the car and drove off, leav- ing Shelby standing at the curb. ‘“‘ They call you Silent,” Shelby said bit- terly. “I guess you’re silent because you have nothing in your noodle to put into words. Here am I, hunted by the police, and you take it as a joke. Well, I'll just fight my own fight, you big stiff.” He felt himself harden again. His youth seemed very remote now. He felt like a man who has lived a long, embittered life. Through no fault of his own he had dropped from respectability to a criminal’s position in the eyes of the law. And Silent Simp- son didn’t care a snap of his fingers. With his shoulders squared and his eyes glowing defiance, he marched down the street. He passed one policeman and looked him in thé eyes. The policeman’s eyes slipped away carelessly. “* Anyway, he didn’t suspect me,” Shelby thought, and he gained confidence. He meant to see Miss Sutherland at once. He had to start somewhere and it might as He remembered, as he made his way toward the street they had stood on, that he did not know where she lived. She had flittered away in the dark- ness. But she had said that her phone number was in her father’s name. He entered the inevitable drug-store and readily found her phone number and ad- dress. He had a notion to call her up, but changed his mind. She might not see him. Clutching his precious dinner-bucket, he walked to her street. As he neared the cor- comiclboooks C©