Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 3 — page 156: what you’re looking at

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

438 when the tramp was being brought back from the undertaking establishment. “Go ahead. Look at him all you like,” sighed the captain. ‘ Tell the turnkey I want him to take you to Madden’s cell and let you look at him.” Mrs. West was away like the wind. Collins stepped up to say that he had brought Mrs. Long and her sister to see if the prisoner was the man they had fed in their kitchen the night of Mrs. Spalding’ S death. ‘Then we might as well go right along down-stairs,” said the captain, leading the way toward the staircase. The lockup was in a separate wing back of the main building. A short corridor led: to it. In this passageway they met Mrs. West emerging. She was very white and shaken. “Did you see him?” asked the captain. “ Yes,” gasped the woman, with horror in her eyes. “Is he the man?” “‘J—I—I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I wish I hadn’t come.” Mrs. West rushed for the street door. To look at the lockup it Seemed a scru- pulously clean pavilion of concrete and steel, but for all that there was a noisome reek in the place. Mrs. Long’s sister ad- vanced with handkerchief at her nose. When they reached the cell, Madden was lying. on the bare steel spring of his bunk. “Get up out of that,” said the captain. Madden stirred, but did not attempt to rise. ‘“‘ Get up!” roared the captain. ‘Madden started violently, and with his dazed eyes on the captain tried to force ‘himself up. After struggling a minute, he fell back. “ Better help him,” said the captain, and Collins and the turnkey entered the cell. Catching hold of the prisoner, they hauled him up from his bunk. Madden could not stand alone, and with the policemen grip- ping him under the arm-pits his dead weight dangled, the legs limp, arms stuck out stiffly, and the shoulders grotesquely hunched. ‘* That’s the man,” whispered Mrs. Long, and turned away. Google ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Her sister had already drawn back, and, catching the widow’s arm, stumbled toward the door. ‘‘ And to think it might have been us!’” she sobbed as they. reached the assembly room. The open air had done wonders for Mrs. West. In fact, she had scarcely crossed the street when she decided to wait and see what the other two women knew about the case. Fortunately for Mrs. West, the offer Collins had made to drive them back to their home had been declined. The sister had whispered to Mrs. Long that they had had quite enough notoriety without riding any farther in an automobile with a police-department shield. And Mrs. Long had said that she thought the walk home would do her sister a world of good. So the widow and her sister left headquar- ters on foot. The waiting Mrs. West contrived that they should encounter her, and promptly introduced herself as an occasional wor- shiper in the church where the others were pewholders. That made everything all right. Mrs. West soon was fully informed as. to the sisters’ connection with the case. And when she left them at the corner af Maple Street the spinster sister had said for the fifth time in shocked excitement: “ He might have murdered us in cold blood as we were sitting there—we who were putting the food into his mouth!” In the short distance down Maple Street to hef'own home, Mrs. West’s spirits sank to gloomy depths. It did seem as if she was doomed to be a bystander at this most thrilling moment of Maple Street history— and living just across the street from where the woman was murdered. But there was a surprise for Mrs. West. The surprise was ‘in the person of Mr. Sam West, unexpectedly back from his travels. Here was an ear for her troubles, a bosom for her cares. She threw herself into her husband’s arms with a glad cry. But Mrs. West had foreseen only half her luck. She had no more than begun to tell about the murder when West jumped up. “By jing!” he exclaimed, thumping a fist against the palm of the other hand. Original Ste CO