Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 168: what you’re looking at

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

950 more haste than his aging bones had been able to corral for years, old Herbert went inside. For a moment he sighed his relief. The big safe was closed. The trays were not in their places in the show case. Then -he must have locked up his jewels despite his having had a wee drop too much. Nervously he opened the safe. Then he nearly collapsed. The trays of jewels were not there. He hurried to the show case to look once more. The showcase was empty, right enough. ‘The trays were dropped carelessly on the floor, each stripped of the wares that had decorated it. Old Herbert had to take two drinks from the porcelain Yogi jar before he could realize that he had been robbed. So far as he could figure, he was out about eleven thousand four hundred and eighty dollars in gold, silver, platinum and stones. He hurried back to the police station and once more stood before the desk sergeant. “ Say,” he said, “ tell me just how it all happened that you caged me up for the night, will you?” “All right, listen,” the policeman an- - swered crisply. “ Last night you were lit up like a cathedral. If you had been left to “roam around loose you’d have walked into a street car or eaten a peck of marbles— something like that. Your wife asked us to put you in the clink for safekeeping over -. might. That’s all there is to that.” .\The sergeant considered the incident closed. He again picked up his newspaper. ‘“‘ My wife,” gasped old Herbert. “ There must be some mistake.” - “‘ She said she was your wife.” ‘My wife’s been dead for five years.” “ Well, then, you must have got another one since. Better sober up a little more, old man. ‘This lady sure had your number. She knew your weak spots as well as my wife knows mine.” ‘‘ What did she look like? say?” - Kern’s questions were double barreled. “Don’t you know what your own wife looks like? She was a mighty nice looking lady, if you ask me. Gray hair, nice ap- pearance. I don’t see what she sees in you, if you ask me. Anyway, she said she was -afraid you’d get hurt, like the last time.” What did she ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “Like the last titne?” old Herbert said. “ What last time?” “Your memory’s rotten, isn’t it? Your wife said that the last time you were on a toot you left your store unlocked all night and then fell over a park bench and broke a leg. Now are you satisfied?” “No, ’m not. Who was supposed to have locked the store up last night?” “Why, your wife attended to that.” “Well, I still contend there is some mis- take,” insisted Kern. “I haven’t any wife. Whoever that was just said she was my wife and that’s not all. I was robbed during the night of eleven thousand four hundred dollars worth of jewelry, while I was sitting here in jail ‘ for safety’s sake.’ ” The sergeant’s hand went to his forehead. He, too, began to think there was some mistake and he had a slight notion as to who had made the mistake. There was nothing __ to do but take the shopkeeper before the chief of detectives. Old Herbert, of.course, could not identify the person who had robbed him. It was only when the detective chief brought out photographs of Mrs. Charlotte Gibbs, the Duchess, that he recognized a resemblance to the woman who had bought a cigarette holder and, unknown to him, “ sized up ” his store. ‘Yes, that’s the dame,” the sergeant said. ‘‘ Gee, I didn’t know she was crooked. She sure looked like she might be the wife of a prosperous guy.” “You're good, McShane,” the chief of detectives said sarcastically to the police- man. “I never suspected that you’d ever let a crook have a man locked up in the station all night so she cculd clean his place out undisturbed. Take a good look at that woman. She’s the nerviest dame in the United States.” V. THE results of all this were these: The sergeant now patrols a beat. Mrs. Charlotte Gibbs, the Duchess, is living in seclusion off the proceeds of selling Kern’s jewelry. There now is fire, burglar and tornado in- surance on the shop and its wares. | Old Herbert Kern doesn’t drink a drop. EoOmMmicbooks.co