Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

A STRANGER IN Out of the pack of his fellow mortals, one stepped alertly and fell into pace at the officer’s side. He was spare, thin of face, with keen and restless eyes. 3 A reporter for a thousand, Harmon thought, his heart seeming to sink still fur- ther in his breast—a reporter—a news hound—always trailing—always trying to find some sensation to write up—always on the quest for some bit of flotsam to salvage in some such form as would enable it to hill ‘‘ space.” And Jenkins seemed to know him, for he nodded before he answered: ‘ Counterfeit- in’, Larry. Cap. Salles pulled a raid on a gang a bit ago in a dump down here on Howard. There was some shootin’, but what happened I dunno. All I’m hep to now is that I got this bird.” The reporter gave Eddie a_ glance, “‘ Made a break for it, did he?” “Did he?” Jenkins grinned in more hu- man fashion. ‘‘He jumped off a _ one- story roof onto my neck, an’ then streaked it up th’ street.” “But you got him,” Larry said as a call box was reached and Jenkins paused. “ Bill, that was darned good work.” Eddie Harmon heard them. But he heard them dimly. Because his brain was whirling, and in all the jumble of sounds, in all the jostling of the crowd that had followed them to the call box and was ring- ing about them, only one thing was plain.’ There had been a raid on a counterfeiting gane—-and somebody had made a get-away and Jenkins—this burly policeman—had chased some one for the matter of several blocks and arrested—/im! But before that—Eddie caught his breath. There was that bill! Some one had rushed up to him and slapped his face and thrust it into his hand. And now the reason for his actions was clear to Eddie’s mind. He had run up and committed this most amazing assault because he had wan- ted Eddie to do just what he had done— what any man with a spark of real, primi- tive feeling in his nature would have done in a similar situation. And to fuddle him still further, he had left a hundred dollar counterfeit bill in his palm. Because it was counterfeit, of course. And he had put it TOWN. 645 into his pocket when he started to avenge the injury done his personal pride. It was there now, and if they took him to the station they would find it. Of course, he had told Jenkins that the one he had been chasing had given it to him, but Jenkins had treated all he had said with unbelief. He could say he had dropped the thing, if he was questioned—unless the bill was there to speak for itself. Jenkins released his grip upon him. “Watch him a minute, will you, Larry?” he requested and turned to the box. Harmon regarded his broad shoulders hunched a trifle as he gave the station from which he was speaking and asked for the patrol. He turned his regard to the reporter and encountered the glance of his keenly restless eyes. He dropped his own and slid his hand into. the side pocket of his coat, where he had thrust the hundred dol- Jar note before he started to run after the man who had used him in effecting his escape. His fingers touched it, began working it into a little wad, crushing it, rolling it, squeezing it, into the smallest possible shape. By and by he would take it out and drop it in unobtrusive fashion just as they were entering the patrol, or, if possible, before. If only he had done it before this— as they came toward the call box, say—it would have been ground into pulp by now beneath the feet of the jostling throng. ““Darned clever, ain’t your? What you got there?” Larry’s voice sounded all at once. Larry’s hand shot out and gripped him by the lower arm. Larry’s other hand darted into his pocket. And Eddie didn’t resist. Be- cause, really, it wasn’t any use with Jenkins spinning about from the call box as Larry spoke, his grip instinctively closing on his polished club. Then Larry’s groping hand came forth and displayed what his fingers were holding. “ Slick ’un, Bill,’ he declared in a tone of something Jike relish. ‘‘ He was tryin’ to clean himself.” And Jenkins took the hundred dollar bill and grinned again as he thrust it into a pocket, “Good eye, Larry,” he rejoined. “TI oO CORNICLOOOKS,CO)