Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

654 closed it before some of those trumpeters saw it—you wouldn’t ’ave ’ad a piece of coal in the ’ole plyce.”’ The soldier drew himself up—he was a stubborn old “ swett ”—he had taken part in a half dozen Indian hill campaigns long since forgotten except in the records of the War Department. The faded green, blue and red ribbons were on his soiled jacket. He stepped away from the grate and put himself between the batman and the door. “You and your tyle!” he said. “ You come over the wall from the clink, that’s where you come from! You’re an escyped prisoner! I know every bloke in R Bat- tery’s office as well as I know my own nyme and number, and if you’re one of them, I’m old Bobs himself!” “Ave a care,” said the batman in a low voice, “ ’ave a care wot you do, old mate.” “ Bah!” said the old man in contempt. “ °*Oos afryd of you? I’ve told ’em a dozen times some bloke would be ’opping off over the wall and getting down by the coal pile. A dozen times I’ve spoke to the sergeant major about it, but ’e’s always told me to mind my own business. “ But I know if you get away through “ere, Pll get a dis/onorable discharge with- out a pension. Now, then, you march ahead of me to the nearest battery office and give yourself up. Come along now! Shyke a leg! »? “No,” said the batman, and set down his basket of coal. He was dizzy with fury, and the old man seemed to waver in front of him in a mist of red. He was unarmed, except for the handkerchief which he car- ried up his sleeve, and to no one but a man who had spent his youth in Greek Street would a silk handkerchief have been a weapon. But the batman’s youth had been thrilled by tales of that mysterious epidemic of gar- roting which had swept London in the sev- enties. Those tales had lain in his mind like burrs. “Don’t be ’ard on an old myte,” he said, “ You’d get out yourself if you ’ad the chawnce, and you was in my boots. It’s getting out now or six months at ’ard labor. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. There might be a good bit of money in it for you.” The old soldier thrust forward an arm and pointed to the almost indistinguish- able lance-corporal’s stripe on it. “Shun!” he said. “ Quick march!” He turned to unlatch the door, but the batman was on him before he could open it. The silken noose went over his head, and the batman, with his knee in the small of the man’s back, twisted with all his suddenly great strength. His victim choked once and clawed at the door, but the man behind him swung him about and he fell. He was a chunky, wheezy, old man, and it had been the batman’s intention, as far as his sudden fury gave him an intention, to disable him until he could make his e- cape. But there was life and a queer sense of duty in the old soldier, and he put up such a fight, struggled, and threw himself about so, that the batman put both hands in his tourniquet and twisted savagely. He held until the stocky body was still, and when he reeled to his feet and wiped the sweat from his face with shaking hands he knew that he, Thomas Scutt, was a mur- derer. There was no going back now— he had reached the crossroads and taken that left-hand turn which leads to the un- derworld of crime. He was sick and nauseated, but he felt no regret, no compunction. Even the sight of the glaring blue eye of the old man, © suddenly red in the light of the snapping grate, nor the protruding tongue, moved him. He was suddenly cool. He must hide the old man, so that he should not be dis- covered until long after he was safe out of ‘barracks. . Lights were beginning to flare along the galleries, and the square was full of smoky gloom through which moved the ghostly shapes of men and horses. The batman flung open the small door which led into the coal yard, and dragged his victim out upon the wet stones. He removed the handkerchief which hung like a scarf about the swollen neck, and then laid him as close as possible to the foot of the tallest coal ‘With the puttering care of his kind the old fellow had made a wall of the larger == = €omicbooks (E() mM