The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 90: what you’re looking at

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

212 It seemed to Jane that she was going mad. A very similar impression had come to Mr. Farnham many seconds before; and he had fought it valiantly and now he had conquered it and was at least able to speak coherently. “Madam, please!” he cried. “It’s all interesting, of course, but it’s out of place here. We’re not—” “Shut up!” thundered the constable. “ll do nothing of the kind!” snapped Farnham, with an assurance which, directed into happier channels, should have won him millions. ‘‘We’re in an unusual situation here and appearances are rather against us; but there is nothing that cannot be ex- plained if you’ll give us the opportunity. We—” There was a thrilling little period in which apoplexy fought hard to detach the immortal portion of Thornton Hill from the mortal. Veins swelled in his official forehead and his face turned purple and his breath came in noisy gasps; but his voice returned to him at last and he shouted: “J dunno how much of a fool I look, young feller, and I dunno what kinder fools you ‘re used to talking to, but there’s limits t? me! I swear t’ Moses I always been known as an officer that did his duty and did it clean, but if I listen t’ much more of that I’m goin’ t’ lose my temper an’ blow your head plumb off!” His weapon vibrated dangerously under Mr. Farnham’s nose; his eyes gleamed, too, and Jane caught her companion’s arm sud- denly and pleaded: “Oh, don’t—don’t say any more! Please don’t! He might—” “Ves, I guess he might, from the looks of him!” Wilbur Farnham conceded, thinly. The constable had turned to the new Miss Codd. “You ain’t so skeered now?” he asked considerately. “Not near so skeered, Thornton.” “Then if you can write, I wish you’d get out a piece of paper and jot down the charges against these two,” Mr. Hill pur- sued, unimpressed by the cold dignity into which, however forlornly, Mr. Farnham had retreated again. “I’m supposed to turn prisoners over t’ Lem, y’ know, with the main facts of the case, and I might as well have the facts ready for him in the morn- ‘ing, in case this crime wave spreads and calls me away again. You ready, Miss Codd?” THE ARGOSY. “Yes,” the lady said excitedly, poising her pen. “Wotcher name again—Fenwick?” “Compe,” “First name?” “William,” said Mr. Farnham bravely. ‘What made /er call you Wilbur this afternoon?” the constable asked unexpect- edly. ““However—don’t matter. I ain’t got any idee you’re telling the truth about any o’ the names, but something has to go on record. You claim this other party’s your sister?” ‘“Most certainly!” said Farnham glibly. “Put her down for that, anyway,” di- rected the constable. “Got it, Miss Codd? All right! Now for the charges against ’em —you better number these as you set ’em down, so’s we won’t lose track of them. Number one: Stealing one automobile from party or parties unknown!” ~ “About that car, we didn’t—” Mr. Farn- ham began helplessly. “‘Stealing one automobile, number one,” Thornton Hill repeated imperturbably. ‘‘Number two: Exceeding speed limit in same!” The pen scratched busily. - +. bet “ant ~ Same?” echoed dutifully. ‘“That’s when they got away from me before; must ’a’ been going seventy miles an hour, too,” observed the constable. ‘Charge number three: Driving same with fake numbers made out of pasteboard.” a pasteboard!” said his amanu- Miss Codd ensis. Thornton Hill’s grim smile grew more sinister, more triumphant. “You ready for charge number four?” he asked. “All right; charge number four: Defrauding Lizzie Turner outen three dol- lars, same to have been paid her for a meal she furnished them.” “Did they manage to do that?” the recorder asked wonderingly. “They done it after a struggle,” said the constable. “Got it down? Lemme see. Charge number five: Assaulting an officer of the law with intent to kill—I oughter put that first, because it’s the most important, but never mind so long’s we’ve started the other way.” The mild Miss Codd glanced fearfully at the pair and wrote as directed. “Number six: Resisting arrest! I’m going to make that a separate charge, so’s they’ll get every year in prison that’s com- ECOMMICLOO® S (C@