10 Short Novels Magazine — page 116: what you’re looking at

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

| 1 14 * % *& Ten Short Novels Mogozine : policeman’s steely blue eyes; the promise _of a ready smile on his lips. Jinx Herbert’s good hand automati- . cally started upward in a salute. He dropped that hand with a sheepish look. “T got a couple o’ prisoners here, Mr. Snell,” he said gruffly. “Do you want "em hall I drop ’em through a hole in the ice?” Inspector Snell’s black eyes twinkled. “Really, you wouldn’t do that—ah—con- stable,” he said quietly. “You—’ “Constable?” Jinx Herbert snapped. “Where do you get that stuff * oe Inspector Snell’s thin-lipped smile broadened. “Just as you say—ah—Her- bert,” he said. “Or perhaps corporal would sound better?” | Jinx Herbert swallowed hard. Lou Dil- lard eame to his side and slipped her arm through his arm. Jinx Herbert patted the. girl’s mittened hand roughly. “T don’t get you—inspector,” he said hoarsely. “T see you don’t,” Snell said. “The explanation is this, Herbert: Perhaps I was a bit harsh with you at Halfway House. But that is my reputation you know and I—ah—really had to live up to it.” He chuckled. “But that wasn’t my real reason for—discharging you from the service. You see, Herbert, I knew Pancoast’s gang had framed you. Of course they thought they killed both you and Robinson. It was only your extreme- ly good fortune—and your hard head— which saved you. “Now then, I also knew that Pancoast and his gang with a record of six killings behind them and carrying a fortune in stolen furs, were on their way into United States territory. There was nothing we could do about that—cofficially. Of course, we could get in touch with the nearest marshal in Dawson but that would take time and meanwhile Pancoast could make good his escape. I couldn’ i order you to go on into the United States in pursuit of the killers. “But I could put you out of the service, which I did. I knew you would follow those men to the ends of the earth, if necessary. International boundary lines would mean nothing to you. And you ac- complished — corporal — exactly what I hoped you would accomplish.” The slim fingers of Lou Dillard’s hand had been tightening on Jinx Herbert’s arm. When she looked up at him her eyes were bright. “Corporal,” she whispered. “Did you hear him, Tom?” Jinx Herbert nodded. His slow thoughts were just beginning to under- stand. ““Meanin’ you and Briggs framed all that?” he queried. Inspector Snell nodded. “Yes,” he ad- mitted. “Your discharge papers never went through, Herbert. Ben Briggs is being transferred to Baker Inlet. I need a corporal to take charge here. The job is yours—if you want it.” Jinx Herbert looked down into Lou Dillard’s glistening eyes. Then he looked up at Inspector Snell. Slowly, his wide mouth broke into a smile. “O.K., inspec- tor,” he said. “I accept.” The two men were shaking hands when Corporal Ben Briggs appeared about a corner of the building. The old police- man’s whiskered face mirrored glad sur- prise. “Hello, Jinx!” he shouted. “Why, darn my eyes—”’ Ben Briggs started forward, hand out- stretched. Jinx Herbert met him scowl- ing. He struck the extended hand aside; but there were little wrinkles of laughter at the corners of his eyes. “Lay off that ‘jinx’ stuff,” he barked. “The next guy that calls me ‘Jinx’ gets a sock on the jaw. That goes for you, too, inspector. I’d almost forgotten it, but my name is Tom. Tom Herbert. My jinx is dead. And buried. And here’s the young lady, gents, . who done the killin’, an’ the buryin’. Miss Lou Dillard. Leastwise that was her name. We were married yesterday by the Methodist domine up on Turtle Creek. Now she’s Mrs. Tom Herbert—Lou, to her friends,” GComichoo S