Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 152: what you’re looking at

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

142 lars’ reward for the capture of rob- -bers—a thousand dollars dead or alive —preferably dead.” We rounded a corner and turned down a side street toward the river, I knew it was toward the river because in the distance I could hear the raucous croak of a tugboat. 3 “We'll soon be there,” said Bill en- couragingly. “The dead line ends at the next block. This here is the Sixth National Bank.” 2 He pointed to a granite edifice to our right. Bill once worked for a trucking firm and he knew the city like a book. “There’s a light in there,” I re- marked, pointing to one of the big plate glass windows. Bill glanced toward it. “Tt’s over the entrance to the vaults,” he said. “I guess they keep it burning all night.” “Well, a bank can afford to do—” I began, but stopped abruptly as Bill clutched my arm. “Look, Jim!” he ejaculated. “There’s somebody under the light.” I looked. Sure enough there was a dark shadow. It appeared to be the shadow of a man stooping over. “A safe robber!” I gasped. “ Where’s that cop?” “The devil with a cop,” whispered Bill. “ We'll nab this bird and get the reward for ourselves.” The prospect of tackling a safe rob- ber who probably bristled with firearms didn’t appeal especially to me, but Bill was not to be discouraged. “ A thousand dollars’ reward,” he sighed ecstatically. “Enough to pay our funeral ex- penses, maybe,” I interposed gloomily. “Keep moving along,” Bill whis- pered eagerly. “ We'll see if there’s an alley leading to the back of the bank from this side street. No use trying the front door.” We walked fully a hundred feet be- fore we came to a break in the solid wail of granite. It was a dark, narrow passway. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “ Probably a lookout is stationed in there somewhere ready to pump us full of bullets,” I whispered. “Come on!” Bill is like a blood- hound once he gets started on a scent. We glanced up and down the street. Not a soul was in sight. We cautious- ly slunk into the passway, until we came to a break in the wall. There a narrow door blocked our progress. Bill stealthily tried the knob. “ It’s unlocked,” he whispered in ela- tion. ‘‘ Here’s where the robbers en- tered.” “ Let’s go back to the street and call a cop,” I suggested. “ Nothing doing,” insisted Bill dog- gedly. “ This is our thousand and we don’t want to divvy it with the police department.” He opened the door and we crept in- side. It was blacker than pitch A tomblike silence enveloped us. For a moment we stood there. “TLet’s strike a light,” I whispered. “ Don’t be a fool,” said Bill. “We're fools, all right,” I ventured. “We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t.” Bill led the way. I kept hold of the edge of his coat so we wouldn’t be sepa- rated in the darkness. We appeared to be in a long corridor. There might have been doors opening off from it on either side, but so far as seeing anything was concerned there might as well have been yawning abysses. Personally, I would just as soon have fallen into a yawning abyss as to keep forging ahead through the darkness in quest of a robber’s bullet. I might have turned back, but some one had to be along to look after Bill. Finally we came to an abrupt stop against a solid wall. The corridor end- ed here, but apparently branched off at right angles in both directions. From afar off came the muffled sound of a bell tolling, “ Three o’clock,”’ I whispered to Bill. Bill merely grunted. * We'll take the turn to our right,” -comicbooks (0)