Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 50: what you’re looking at

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at alte | Oi . that?” 684 of ecstatic triumph and would not be hur- ried. “He looked at me for a moment. I assure you there was murder in his eyes. Then he said— Family be damned!’ ” ““Well—what else?” demanded Carl Howe impatiently. “Let’s hear the rest,” encouraged the wireman. Mr. Swiift’s eyes widened in amazement. “ But I’ve told you all there is to tell. What could there be after that!” His tone reproved them. “ He brushed past me—I believe if I hadn’t moved he would have knocked me down—and went into his room.” “You mean you didn’t ask him any- thing else!” “Say! Did you let him get away with Charlie Dew’s fists doubled in vicarious resentment. “Naturally, I didn’t say anything further! How could I?” Philip queried plaintively. ‘The man’s face is murder- ous—” “ Tt’d been something besides murderous if he’d answered me like that,” the wire- man murmured grimly. “And you’d have been locked up for assault,” commented Carl Howe judicially. “No, Swift is right. We'll have to go about this thing carefully. His manner certainly bears us out in—” “ He’s positively the ugliest customer I’ve seen in a long time,’ reminisced Philip. “You say he was carrying a bundle?” “Sort 3 square it was. Done up in newspaper.” “Gin,” guessed Charlie Dew promptly. “ He’s a bootlegger.” “Thing for us to-do is to get into that room,” Carl decided. “ Victoria’s got a pass key. Dew here can take the impres- sion and have another one made.” “ That’s the ticket!” “ But he might be in!” light paled. “ He’s seldom there two nights in suc- cession,” Carl pointed out sagely. ‘* Say we pull the stunt to-morrow night.” “But Mrs. Ladd! She won’t permit—” “She won’t know! One of us will stay with her, the other two search the room.” The literary ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, “It’s a criminal offense—breaking into a man’s room,” Mr. Swift reminded them anxiously, - ‘“ But unless he zs a criminal, he needn’t know anything about it,” argued Carl. “If we don’t find any incriminating evidence, there will be an end of it. If we do— we'lj call in the police to make the raid.” “‘ I got a friend on the force,” the wireman offered eagerly. ‘“ I can wise him up.” it was a plan worthy of the adroit intri- gants behind it. Charlie Dew shouldered the responsibility of the pass key. Brought it snugly home the following evening. And it was Charlie and the intrepid Carl who undertook the investigation of the stranger’s room while to Philip Swift fell the less hazardous, if more delicate, feat of engaging the unconscious Amalie in conversation dur- ing the performance. It was after eight when the trio tiptoed down the stairs in awful silenee which was broken by the wireman’s husky whisper: “‘ There’s no light there. Come on, bo!” Vil. AMALIE was making a little circle of turgid roses on a potential bureau scarf, ker head bent at a politely attentive angle toward the effulgent literary light, when the unceremonious but dramatic entrance oi her remaining two lodgers brought her to her feet. ‘““We’ve got him with the goods!” “It’s all right! He’s not there!” “ But the loot is!” gloated the frantic Charlie. Mrs. Ladd’s hands flew to her throat. “Loot! You’ve got who?” “ That crook! Your roomer!” roared the wireman. ’ “ Lodger,” corrected Amalie mechani- cally. ‘‘ You mean you’ve caught sim!” ‘““ With the goods,” nodded Carl Howe eagerly. ‘“‘ The place is full of stuff!” The wire- man’s frenzy seemed to have communicated itself to his hair. It stood up in ragged tufts and sent forth the glow of an incipient forest fire. “You mean you broke into his room,” faltered Amalie incredulously. oO EoOmichbooks.;co