All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 88: what you’re looking at

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

798 ‘Some one in the Rollins establish- ment, who was very much annoyed, asked me when I rang up, “ Are you here again?” and then, of course, apologized, and told me that a man named Parks had rung up several times, and since Miss Rollins wasn’t very well the repeated ringing of the telephone bell’ was annoying. Didn't she say, too, that Rollins had gone out of town?” | The affirmative answer to both ques- tions was written in Parks'’s face; and I don’t suppose it made him feel any better for me to know that he had lied tome. There was no hint of malice in Campbell's tones. He was laughing at Parks, and I think the detective knew it. The captain rose abruptly and said, in a rather tired tone: * Well, I guess the argument doesn't lead anywhere, Mr. Campbell. Ii you'll come out to the desk with me we'll get Mr. Mason's belongings. My advice to him is to keep away from joints like MacGregor’s. He'll be less likely to get into trouble.” ‘My point exactly, captain,” Camp- bell declared as he gripped my arm. ‘Only you nustn’t blame Mr. Mason —he’s only been here ten days.” Parks’s right hand, resting upon the table, clenched slowly. He did not speak, but I could see that he was thinking very rapidly, and could feel his eyes digging into the middle of my back as Campbell and [ followed the captain out of the room to the desk outside. : There was a black police-van at the door. Campbell's car was visible through the window. Several of the morbidly curious hung about the side- walk. And there was a young man talking —or rather, trying to talk—to the lieutenant at the desk. Campbell saw him before I did, and with perfect ease took the captain aside, as if he had something very pri- vate to say to him, leaving me to at- tack the situation alone. THE ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. The young man was Beans Borrow- man! A chill struck my heart, and it sank with nauseating suddenness. My hand went out, fumbling for the rail about the desk, and, blindly finding it, my fingers held on like grim death. Other- wise I think I should have collapsed. That stuffy cell yawned again, with Campbell and his lieutenant for neigh- bors. Beans’s glance came over the lieu- tenant's shoulder, and his eyes, for a second, perhaps, became like saucers— then they were mere slits. Feeling the floor sliding away from under me, I heard the lieutenant at the desk say bruskly: “You can’t see her unless when she’s on her way to the wagon. What'd you wanna see her for, anyway? You ain't a dago!”’ 3eans’s dusty face grew black, and as I got a grip upon my legs and moved in a leaden sort of way to the desk he edged away from it and skulked, foot by foot, nearer to the outer door, his expression gradually becoming more doubtful as ‘he studied Campbell’s perfectly tailored back. “ You're goin’ to shake us?” The lieutenant's — affable startled me. “ Yes,’ I stammered, and fervently hoped he spoke the truth. “Well, I guess you'll find every- thing there.” He handed me a package, which I accepted, not really caring whether everything was in it or not, and I stuffed my watch, card-case, and so forth, into my pockets as quickly as I could, with an anxious eye for the threatening situation round about me. With his side toward the street and Beans, Campbell faced the door which led to the cells. His right hand, out of the captain’s sight, rested on his hip. Suddenly Parks appeared in the doorway, walking with lockstep pre- cision before a prisoner apparently just brought from the “ cooler.” Jt was Mrs. Varelli. query comicloooks.com