Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 7, 1925 — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

A COUNT OF SOME er! Despite Grege’s bulk, Bly would have liked to be in a room alone with him at that moment! _ Down in the depths, where the water went drip, drip, drip, and the sludge cir- cled in the vats, Pete Slavvery stood in the smaller grinder room where rested two vats temporarily not in commission. Pete was unearthing from the liquid pulp the bottle he had consulted earlier in the day. With- drawing the cork he upended the slender neck to his mouth. Just then, upon the concrete floor of the big outer room, he heard a trample of foot- steps. Pete acted with amazing quickness for one so huge. Jamming the cork back into the bottle he plunged it down again, into the ooze and straightened, just as the investigating party came in, after dra- matically flinging back the closed door. They stood looking at Pete. Pete looked back at them. : | “That’s him,” growled Malachi Gregg. “ That’s Slavvery. That’s yer man.” Bly, pushing past a big deputy, surveyed Pete rather sorrowfully. Either Pete looked guilty or not guilty, he could not tell which. Pete’s peculiar face was like that. It was a poker face. Either Pete could master his emotions, or he had none. ‘“ Boys,” boomed Gregg, ‘I been watch- in’ this fellow. Roll up your sleeves and dig down into this pulp. See what you find!” And he indicated the beater beside which he stood. It was mot the beater wherein Slavvery had cached his bottle. | Uprolling as directed, the deputies dived into the great round tub in which swam fragrant wood pulp unstirred by apparatus for nearly a fortnight. The evidence was exhumed; an even half dozen bottles of it. Sheriff Vardaman extended hungry hands. Gravély he broke a seal. He applied a private corkscrew and worked with prac- ticed hand. He sniffed, he tasted, he crowed with joy. _ “ Booze!” Gravely he turned to Pete. you are my prisoner!” Came a clicking. Two of the deputies had handcuffed Pete. The other two stuffed their pockets with the evidence, hastily rub- “« Slavvery, ACCOUNT. - bing off the adhering sludge with bits of = burlap which lay round about. The little party rightabout faced and, with the goggle- eyed Pete in the center, passed through the main beater room and went up the stairway to the big machine room. Trailing the group ease Bly and Mattie Briscoe. Bly was worried. But for some reason the pretty face of the boss counter girl wore a a look of quiet amusement. In years of supervisory service for paper mills, Bly was not unacquainted with divers ways of law and order. A bootlegging raid was new to him. But he had been an ex- pert witness on one summons and another, and his evidence had been sometimes called for, following arrests for strike disorders. As the crowd reached the booming Four- drinier which Gregg would captain no more, a great light illumined the Bly brain, that had been struggling for just that phenom- enon. He darted forward, plucking Varda- man’s sleeve, halting the parade, while he — faced Pete. i Slavvery! ” squalled the super above the din, ‘do you know what this is all about?” About them came helpers; the machines ran as they would. In the round eyes turned to his was an abysmal depth of incomprehension as Pete answered Bly. | 3 ‘No. What is it?” And to the dumb- bell dregs of Pete, Bly believed in him. Triumphantly he turned to Vardaman. “ Sheriff,” he squalled, “ you’ll be going off half-cocked once too often. You can’t take this man; you’ve no real evidence!” ‘* Why haven't I evidence?”’ squealed the reform sheriff. ‘“ Here’s Slavvery and here are the bottles!” “You got Slavvery without a thing in his hands! On another man’s say-so! Pete stood beside Number Two beater; you searched Number One. He says he knows nothin’ about this contraband and you ain’t got any proof that he iia’ Gee The sheriff and_ his deputies, neatly caught, stared at one another. But now uprose. another voice in a menacing growl, tinctured with a malignant joy. It was the — voice of Malachi Gregg. “ Boys, I forgot. I saw Slavvery yester- day down in that room, when he didn’t CoOmicboc cS: Prag tee ap oe <= vy MEYER IRN SHU (EC) ea tt Han Hy ate yh} Gide