Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

“The first train out,” answered Connors - « That will be with the newspapers. You have missed the midnight express. My pro- posal is this: take us down to this place of yours to-night so we can get the lay of things before you go. By the way, will we need a gun or anything like that?” “Not unless you want to practice on Ed- die Carbon’s musical gong. Mr. Bailey, the Cracker Pot is as safe as a cradle.” “Who is Eddie Carbon?” asked Bruce. “ Eddie is a harmony king. He can play a pianner upside down, Eddie can, but i’m going to tell him to lay off on the concert work till I get back. Eddie won’t bother you, and” — Connors hesitated — “ don’t pay any attention to him, gents; he’s all right, but he don’t talk much.” Bailey’s suggestion to visit the Cracker Pot met with Bruce’s approval, and Connors was anxious to draft some kind of note that would excuse his absence to his bartender without disclosing his destination. He also intended to incorporate within this note some allusion that would reveal Bruce’s standing with Captain Wallers. This was to be written as soon as they reached the Cracker Pot. Within twenty minutes they were rolling southward in a night-hawk cab. A dense fog was sweeping in from the Fast River as they stepped to the curb in front of the Cracker Pot. It was a soggy, mist-dripping fog, that cast huge halos of light around each street lamp and inked the shadows in every lane and alley. Now and then a mass of shadow would assume human form, then slip past into the darkness. After admitting them, Connors locked the street door and handed the key to Bruce de Lisle. “You may want it,” he said. “‘ There are two for this door. Emile has the other one.” Then Connors passed from the barroom into the ladies’ parler, where a dim light was burning; his companions waiting in the semidarkness ef the dingy barroom. Through the open doorway Bruce and Bailey saw him lift his hand to turn on the sickly looking jet of gas. Just what happened they did not know, but as his fingers touched the gas cock the a out. A Their first as there had been an exclamation of * prise from Connors and the sound of sce ing feet against the bar floor. After that ‘_— waited. In all likelihood not over fifteen seconds had elapsed, but it seemed hours, then Bailey moved forward. He was in total darkness, but by throwing out his hands was able to determine his position. He was close to one of the door posts. “Do you want a match, Connors?” he asked. Not a sound came from the back room. “ Connors, what is it?” questioned Bruce, who now stood at Bailey’s side, peering into the darkness. Still no answer. Both the clergyman and his friend real- ized the danger of their position; without firearms, light, or knowledge of their sur- roundings, and in one of the questionable resorts of the city. “ Stand back,” said Bailey. “ I’m going to light a match and find out what has hap- pened. Safe as a cradle!” he muttered. “A cradle of rattlesnakes.”’ The flickering light of the burning match, shaded by his hands, was far more disquiet- ing than the darkness had been, as it allowed imagination to people the dim recesses of the room. This, however, did not deter Bailey, who cautiously advanced until he stood directly underneath the burner they had seen Connors reach for. Then he real- ized that the man had not made an error of judgment in reaching for the light. It was flowing with the wicked hiss that ac- companies the escape of unlighted gas. Bailey touched his match to the burner and a flood of light followed. The room was empty. With one accord they reached for the knob of the door which opened into the dance hall, assuming that Connors had stepped in there. It was locked and they saw that the key was on their side of the door. , se left of the room was a door which _ pe into the hallway that led to the comicbooks.c: