Adventure Magazine Cover — page 145: what you’re looking at

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

Men of the Night corner of the car, and felt the sharp prod of a gun’s muzzle. Said Billy the Dude: “Don’t youse start not’in’, see? ’R I'll plug youse. W’at ’s de matter? Got a chill ’r somet’in’? You’s shakin’ de car— youse’ll wear out de springs. Stop it!’ The car with powerful noiselessness was cutting down the street with the deceptive speed that the wheeled leviathans have. At twenty miles an hour a flivver rattles like a skeleton with the ague; but one of the big’ patricians can do thirty-five without disturbing a traffic policeman’s sense of duty. Silkeen, unless pressed, was a rather cautious driver. He did not want to get into court on so trifling a thing as speeding. As the car rolled on Billy the Dude amused himself by a one-sided conversa- tion. He was of a talkative nature and scarcely paid any attention to what he was saying, being one of those cheerful, amusing fellows that like to feel their tongues on the move: “Hard lines, huh? Say, w’y don’t youse set stillP Youse met dis crowd onct b’fore. Say, dis ain’t so; dis is only a bad dream. Youse jus’ pinch yourself hard enough an’ youse’ll- wake right up.” And as he talked the car went on rapidly. Burillo, hands still bound, bent his head to peer from the windows, and could see lights and the bulking vague fronts of buildings, but did not know at all where he was. He tried to ask Billy, but was told to keep his shirt tucked in and he would find out. In what seemed the midst of darkness the car stopped with motor running. “Here aw-ready?” Billy asked himself, peering out. ‘‘Yep. Dis is w’ere we change cars f’r de big show. Out youse come, bo. Watch yer step.” Billy had got out first and pulled at Burillo’s shoulder as he crept reluctantly into the dark alleyway. A half-block away a small, dirty, yellowish light marked a doorway. “Let ’er go,” Billy called; and the car, starting up rapidly, moved down the alley- like street and vanished at the first corner. Right in front of him was a doorway; and with his back to it Billy kicked three times slowly, then pausing, began again to plant his heel heavily against the door. It opened slightly behind him. He looked around, holding his face close to it, and a flashlight struck blindingly on his features 135 and vanished at once; then the door opened with a clink and rattle of iron links. “In wit’? youse. Hurry up!” Burillo, trembling and so weak that he stumbled and would have fallen if not caught, moved forward. - Billy gave him a shove so that he fell against the man inside; then Billy, glancing swiftly: up and down the street, darted through and the heavy door closed. The entire incident had taken less than two minutes, being manuevered with the furtive rapidity of Crookdom. Inside they stood in a small, narrow space at the foot of dark, narrow stairs that ran up into gloomy vagueness. A small, dirty, electric globe burned at the end of a long cord that hung as low as their heads; and a short stout man with black, bristling mus- tache fitted a heavy bar in place across the thick door. This was Tony Batteto. He settled the bar into place, grunted a little, and, turning around, caught hold of the cord and held the globe close to Burillo’s face to have a look at the prisoner being given into his custody. Tony stared hard. His little mouth opened slowly. His small, piggish eyes widened. ‘The uplifted hand holding the light hegan to shake. As he started to talk the words seemed tumbling over each other to get out and his voice was excitedly emphatic. ‘“Take-a heem out! He can’t stay here. I won’t do it. You have to take-a heem away!” “Like —— I will,” Billy the Dude flared with challenging menace. He had the fighting man’s immemorial contempt for the innkeeper. Besides, it is always bad to let anybody think for a minute that he can get away with a bluff. “T won’t hide heem! My life, it will a-not be worth—pouf!”’ ; ‘““Youse said it. Not wort’ dat!” And Bill snapped finger and thumb before Tony’s short nose, at the same time bringing the muzzle of a gun to bear on the swollen waist-line. Tony swore prayerfully, and Billy an- swered him with curses. * “Hey,” a hoarse voice called down from the darkened top.of the stairs. ‘‘Wa’t’s comin’ off? Youse_guys holdin’ a meetin’?” ‘Dis fat-head bum’s welchin’ on de show- down,” Billy sang out. “Croak ’im,”’ said the hoarse voice with NOOK C@