Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 21, 1922 — page 97: what you’re looking at

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

SHELBY’S HEAD-ON CRASH. This boy is my prisoner. I’ll take care of him. You couldn’t take a prisoner here if you wanted to. Step down.” The policeman slid from the seat. His face was red. He glowered at Simpson. “Oh, I know,” Simpson said grimly, “Tike all men in uniform you have no use for a railroad sleuth. But you're going to get off right here. If you don’t go willing- ly, V’ll just throw you off. You are on rail- road property just now. Nobody asked you to come here. You are a trespasser.” ““ You'll sweat for this, Simpson,” the policeman said, but he let himself down to the ground.. ‘ All right, Dolan,” Simpson said, They- pulled down to the office building. Simpson and Shelby alighted. The engine went along to the yard. The policeman who had ridden in Simpson’s car came from the shadows. “ All serene,” he reported. come out yet. 9 “You'll stay on the job, will you?” Simpson asked. “I’m going up-town.” “The sergeant said to stay till you re- lieved me,” the policeman said. Simpson started up-town on foot. “ Silent,” Shelby said, “I want to thank you—” “‘ Forget it,” said Simpson. ‘Well, there’s something I want to tell you,” Shelby went on. He told him about the typewriter. ‘“T’m sure that Osborne wrote the note that sent me to Thornton’s house that night,” he concluded. ‘“‘ That’s a good link in the chain,” Simp- son said. “ We'll look it up.” He walked along in silence for a moment. “ We'll stop at the drug-stere near the restaurant where you ate your supper that night,” he went on. “It might be that the phone call that Thornton got, calling him away from his boarding-house originated there. It’s an all-night joint.” A hatchet-faced youth was behind the counter in the drug-store. At first he could not remember anythingeabout the night in questions | “ Vou’re ‘a liar,” said Simpson. ‘“ You know Osborne, the copier down at head- quarters, don’t you?” ‘“’ He hasn’t ' 87 ‘‘T. know him,” the youth admitted. “He gets his cigarets here.” <4 Yes.”’ ‘‘ And an occasional nip of booze.” “We don’t sell no booze.” “Youre a liar again!” Simpson said. ‘But that doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business. Did Osborne telephone from here the night I’m talking about, along to- ward supper time?” ‘“ He used the phone,” the youth said. They went to the Western Union office in the next block. ‘“‘ I want to find a boy who delivered a message to a man named Shelby in a res- taurant on Prospect Avenue early yester- day evening,” Simpson said. “‘ The boy is out just now, but I can tell you about the message, Mr. Simpson,” the clerk said. ‘“‘ Tell me, then,” said Simpson. ‘The call came from the drug-store near the restaurant,” the clerk went on. ‘“ Man said he wanted a kid in a hurry. He gave him a message and told him to take it into the restaurant. He pointed out Shelby through the window. Gave the boy a dol- lar. I wondered why he didn’t deliver his own message when he was right there. I asked the boy about him. He described him pretty well. Here’s what he looked like in a general way, Mr. Simpson.” He gave a fair description of Osborne. ‘“‘ That’s all I wanted,’ Simpson said. ‘Thank you.” Then they went outside. ‘Wel have to wait till five o’clock for our next step,” Simpson said. “It’s three now. Are you hungry?” -““ As a bear,” Shelby answered. - “We'll go eat,’”’ said Simpson. ‘“ Then where are we going?” “To talk to Osborne’s wife,” Simpson replied. CHAPTER IX. LOOSE THREADS. SBORNE’S wife?” Shelby cried. @) ‘* T didn’t know he had a wife.” “Not many people know it,” Simpson said dryly. ‘“'Where is she now?” Shelby asked. comicloool C©