Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 19, 1924 — page 170: what you’re looking at

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

640 Denies that he is the original of this photo- graph, does he? Well, we will soon settle that.” He pressed a button. A uniformed man entered. The officer murmured a few low words to him. He departed. An awkward silence ensued. Slippy’s mind was chaotic. He floundered in this unknown sea of trouble. Embezzlement— a man like Trammers! Suppose it was true, what then? Slippy shivered. The orderly returned, Another man came with him. He bore a box under his arm. He handed a packet to the chief. The Jatter opened it and extracted some papers. He placed them on the desk. Another dead silence ensued. Slippy’s knees shook. What was going to happen? His sense of elation had evaporated. He had never thought of looking into his double’s antecedents! “Come here,’ rapped out the police head. Then he turned to the man who had just entered. ‘‘ Now, Rutledge, this man here, while of course admitting that he is Saul Trammers, denies that he is Oscar Little and that he has ever been in Boise, despite his extraordinary resemblance to these photographs of Oscar Little. Very well, let us deny the evidence of our eyes since this man bears the features and the expression of Oscar Little, wanted for em- bezzlement. Striking resemblances are pos- sible. But science will help us. Take his finger-prints, Rutledge. And then let us compare them with those of Oscar Little here.” When they had finished, the result proved that the man standing before them U U ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, was not Oscar Little. Slippy licked his lips.. Things were going better than he had dared hope. } Rutledge leaned over and whispered something in the chief’s ear. The latter pondered. Finally he said, “TE you like.” Rutledge hurried out. Slippy was con- ducted to a plain room down a corridor and left to wait with no explanation. He couldn’t understand this new development. And he had quailed before Rutledge’s keen, piercing gray eyes. What were they up to now? He didn’t have long to wait. Again he was summoned to the chief’s office. Rut- ledge and the chief were talking in sub- dued voices. The police head gestured to his desk top. | “The Widelawns First National is an up-to-date institution. It demands to have filed on record the finger-prints of every one associated with it. We have sent for Saul Trammers’s finger-prints. Axd we know that you are an impostor. Your game is up. Where is the missing real Trammers? Come across with the truth.” Slippy wilted after three hours of grilling. They dug the facts out of him, sweated him into a confession. For finger-prints don’t lie. Slippy had impersonated a man with a record. For Trammers’s finger- prints tallied with those of the wanted em- bezzler, Oscar Little. And Slippy’s own prints were the telltale joker in the pack. So that’s where Nemesis called ‘“ Hands up!” at the eleventh hour. U THE 178TH NOVEL, ORIGINALLY PRINTED SERIALLY IN THIS MAGA- ZINE, TO BE PUBLISHED IN BOOK FORM IS WITHOUT GLOVES BY JAMES B. HENDRYX Author of © Snowdnift,” ci 2 Prairie Flowers,’ ete. (Arcosy-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, July 14 to August 18, 1923.) Published in book form by G. P. Puinam’s Sons, New York. Price $2.00. 10 A Eomicbooks:co Mm y . eth oc -_—— — - “a > M - . ~ oe. r < “7 OP ee nae Sh Om = : e,; : Y as-T pe a, nye bs rae Oa ely Mme er, on ee OE te PS ere. o - None sat Beg ee