Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 28, 1928 — page 90: what you’re looking at

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

520 temporarily, miss. He'll be back in a few days.” She laid the sandwich down uneat- en and walked away. What could Les- ter be thinking of to hire a ruffian like that, and to let his food and service degenerate. Why, that fellow would drive away all the trade Les had worked so hard to build up. Those sausages were putrid, and the bread was stale. Of course Lester had this trust bee in his bonnet and must have hired the man and the other fellow inside, while he and Chipmunk went around securing locations, but it was very short-sight- ed. She would show him his mistake in a minute if she could find him, but where was he?” “Pardon me, lady, could you help a poor old man?” She found herself confronted by a tattered old scarecrow with a soiled white beard and a pair of pale watery eyes. She shivered with disgust; yet she put her hand in her purse, for she could not resist an appeal for charity. “ Are you a friend of Mr. Lucus?” whispered the old man surprisingly. Nora almost dropped her purse. 66 Yes.” “TJ heard you asking for him. Down- ing’s my name. There’s something wrong, miss. Mr. Lucus never put them fellers in there. They’re crooks. I know Mr. Lucus well.” 3 “But they said he hired them,” she faltered. “ T warned him against that one you were talking to. I’m only a poor old tramp,” he whined. “ Nobody would pay any attention to me. I know they done something to Mr. Lucus.” Nora felt suddenly faint. “ What can we do?” she demanded. “Go to the police, miss. They’d just lock me up.” “Do you know where Mr. Lucus lives?” Downing mumbled the address. _ “Tl go there first and make 1n- quiries,” she said. “ Here is a couple ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. of dollars. Will you keep watch on the stand ?” “Yes, miss. You don’t have to give me money.” ~ “Take it.” She drew a pencil and slip of paper from her purse, and wrote on 1f. “Pardon me, lady.” It was a po- liceman. “Is this bum asking you for money?” A heavy hand descended up- on the collar of Walter Downing. “No, no, officer,” she declared. “I know the man. I’m sending him on an errand.” “ He’s a professional panhandler. I ought to run him in anyway.” “ Please,” she said with a melting smile. “ I assure you, I know the man.” “ Just as you say, miss, but you keep off my beat, bo,’”’ commanded the of- ficer. “Here is my telephone number. Call me up at seven to-night,” she said in a low tone. “ Yes, miss. But I can’t hang round the stand. It’s on that cop’s beat.” “ Never mind. Call me up anyway.” Nora hastened away, a prey to dire anxiety. Something had happened to Lester. Of course he had not placed those roughs in charge of his little business. And that tramp was positive that they were criminals of some sort. The tramp was a pitiful creature, but there was something decent about him. It was like Lester to have befriended the old fellow and to say nothing about 1v She was walking rapidly, by instinct, toward the office of the Davenport Realty Corporation. What could she do? She could not prove that Lester had not hired the man, and she had only the word of a poor old tramp that they were crooks. This explained why Lester had not put in an appearance Monday night. In some way he had been prevented. Monday—and this was Thursday! Anything might have happened. But it was inexplicable. What did they want of a little frankfurter stand? EOPMICGLOOOKS (C@