Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

802 light showed except from the irregularly spaced street lamps. Their blurred glim- mer emphasized rather than dispelled the murky gloom, yet McCarty strode on with the unconcern of one treading a once fa- miliar precinct. : He was not the only pedestrian abroad in the late September storm, for under the glow of a lamp ahead he presently descried a dark figure proceeding also in the direc- tion of the water front, and insensibly he quickened his own steps. It was not the desire for company which impelled him to draw nearer to the figure ahead, but a cer- tain peculiarity in the latter’s gait which aroused that latent, alert instinct, more than mere curiosity, that had served him so well in the old days on the force. The man was lurching along at an un- steady pace, breaking into a shambling trot for a few steps, then pulling up short, only to dive forward once more, reeling through the driving sheets of rain. The ex-rounds- man had rapidly decreased the distance be- tween them and would have overtaken him under the next lamp ahead when a tall, burly bluecoat stepped suddenly from the shelter of a dark doorway and barred his progress. “None of that, my lad! For what are you following that feller there? Glory be, it’s Mac!” “ “True for you, Terry!” McCarty re- sponded as their hands met in a mighty erip. ‘A fine, conscientious bull you are, I'll say that for you, pinching the old has- been that got you on the force just because he’s taking a bit of a stroll on a grand night like this!” Officer Terence Keenan grinned sheepish- ly in the darkness. “Tt’s a grand night, all right—for ducks!’? he amended. ‘‘ Yowre no _has- been, Mac, from what the boys tell me of the different cases you’ve taken a hand in on the quiet since you resigned from the department, but you needn’t give me the laugh for looking you over just now! You know this neighborhood as well as me, and when I see a guy trailing a prosperous look- ing drunk toward the river front and the wharves it’s up to me—” “<«Drunk,’ is it??? McCarty demanded in ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. fine scorn. Then he checked himself and added with a sweeping gesture toward the greenish glow from twin lights across the street: “I was minded to take a stroll through my own old beat and drop in at the house over there for a word or two with you and the lieutenant at the desk when I saw the guy ahead—but where is he? He couldn’t have got in one of the ware- houses at this time of the evening and there’s nothing else between here and the corner.” “ Aw, let him go!” Officer Keenan inter- rupted good-naturedly. ‘“ Honest, Mac, I ain’t got the heart to run them in these “days, when the stuff is so hard to get—” But McCarty was not listening. Forgot- ten alike were the bedraggled derby and the affluent private life of which it had so lately been sign and symbol; he was back on his old beat with something doing, and he grabbed his brother officer by the arm. ‘“‘What’s that there beyond the lamp- post, half in and half out of the gutter? It’s him, Terry, he’s down. Come on!”’ Terry needed no second bidding now and they dashed off together, splashing through puddles and over the loose, tilting fragments of sidewalk to where the man lay.. He had pitched forward, his face hanging over the curb’s edge down into the filthy, swirling gutter, and the back of his head showed a small, gleaming bald spot in the misty rays from the lamp. ‘““There’s some heft to him!” Terry grunted. ‘“ Now Ill have to run him in for safekeeping. What’s that he’s jabber- ing, Mac?” Between them they had turned the pros- trate man, who was breathing stertorously and muttering to himself in broken gasps, and the young policeman’s flashlight re- vealed a heavy, smooth-shaven face, dis- torted and pasty gray beneath the rivulets of muddy water that coursed down it, with small, close-set eyes darting about in a wild, distended gaze. McCarty bent lower in the effort to dis- tinguish the hoarse accents, and his com- panion commented disgustedly: ““He’s worse than I thought he was! Look at the rolling eyes of him! It ‘Il be Bellevue, I’m thinking—”’ Comicvoo S (CO)