All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

792 ee THE I shook my head—and all over, too —and sat on pins and needles till Ma- lone and his prisoner entered. “ Close the door! And come over here, both of you,” the lieutenant or- dered sharply. “* Here, you ’—to Mrs. Varelli—* keep your head up.”’ The little Italian woman was sullen. Her inky-black eyes gleamed danger- ously. Malone, stolidly subservient, looked everywhere else but at his chief. “This gentleman says he’s only been over here ten days,” the latter declared slowly. “ Now, take a good look at him, and tell me how you both come to have seen him before. You understand me?” The question was directed at Mrs. Varelli. “ No un'erstan’,” she replied sulkily. “You don't—eh?” The lieutenant took two steps toward her and she shrank from him, wriggling in the be- wildered Malone’s grasp. “Don’t be scared. I ain’t going to do nothin’ to you. ‘Tell me—you've seen that man before?” Mrs. Varelli’s expression became even more dark. Her free hand went up and brushed her hair from her face, so that we all saw the savagery in it more clearly, and her glance, like a dagger-point, fell upon me. I sat perfectly still, waiting and watching to see her lips move. We were all doing that—only I think I realized the hate in her eyes more keen- ly than the others. “Sure I seen heem—heem an’ da Gregarack!”’ Her voice was hoarse, threatening to crack, and the stillness that followed it was painful. Parks looked round; the kindness and triumph had gone from his face. “The Gregarach—eh?”’ The lieu- tenant grinned, as if it did not surprise him. “ When and where was that?” “ A wake ago, sorr; I remimber now.” Malone broke in suddenly. “Him and Mr. MacGregor an’ this woman, sorr, came up Fifty-Fourth Street all together.” ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. “Ts that right, Mrs. Varelli? You saw this gentleman last week? ” The girl nodded viciously. “ Dey maka me go back to Tony, an’ Tony heet me. ‘T'wen’ dol’ I save an’ Tony steala ev’ry dol’—an’ he heet me—dere! ” Throwing back her hair still further, she revealed a great blue-black lump that had bled a little. “ EKef da Gregerack no maka me go back to Tony, I—” “ All right—keep it for the district attorney. ‘Take her away, Malone.” The Irishman removed his charge, and when the door closed I felt strangely alone. Again the lieutenant grinned. Parks’s lips were drawn very tightly together and the steadiness of his gaze embarrassed me. “So you'd kid me, eh?” He rose from his chair slowly—a giant of a man—his cheeks white with anger and his eyes shining amid the pallor like little pieces of live coal. I did not move. Something seemed to chain me to the chair, though my hands clenched and my sinews became painfully taut. “Go easy, Parks,” the lieutenant’s voice cautioned. ‘ You ain’t got any- thin’ on him yet.” “Huh! Id only let Rockefeller fool me once. Put your hands on that table!” Sut, I say—”’ “Can that! Put your hands on that table!” “ What are you going to do?” His right hand went behind him swiftly, and came forward again bear- ing a weapon. “ Parks!” again. “Tt's all right. that table!” I obeyed; not that I was afraid the beggar would shoot. I knew he wouldn't do that, but a revolver—well —did you ever look down the barrel of one in the hands of a chap who was very angry? the Heutenant warned Put your hands on comicloooks.com