The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 4 — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

A SECRET OF THE BRONX. “You have seen Batterson?”’ ‘More than once. And he looks down, Board, down. And once I saw _ him skulking near the job. You were not there. When he saw me he walked away. “Last night after I had my dinner I took a walk. I don’t know what possessed me, but I decided to take a trolley ride. I got on a car without paying much attention to where it went, ahd found myself passing St. Raymond’s Cemetery. Then I knew IT was coming this way. “At the end of the road I got off, and didn’t know what to do with myself. I had some cigarettes, and wandered around smoking, and finally sat down on an old stone wall to rest a bit. Well, along comes another car and a fellow gets off that Ill swear was Batterson. “He was pretty well disguised, with a hat pulled down over his eyes ‘and his collar turned up. But I am sure it was Batterson. He started down toward your place, and I followed. I am sure he was in your woods when you came out of the house. What he wanted, I don’t know. But he either saw me, or your being up and around scared him off. Then you collared me, and—that’s all.” For a moment Fanning was silent. “For Heaven’s sake, don’t tell me you don’t believe me!” Tom cried, showing an agony of spirit that touched Fanning to the heart. “T do believe you, Tom. There’s my hand on it. It’s a queer tale, this last part, but I believe the whole thing. Now get to bed and we'll fix it up to pay your woman friend by daylight.” ‘“‘Nix on the bed thing. I’m going home. T’ll sneak in, get to bed, and be nice and cozy and innocent when dad gets up in the morning. I won’t go to the job. My time-keeping is a fake, anyway.” “So it is, Tom. Well, go fool dad into thinking you got to bed early,” said Fanning with a hearty laugh. “And [ll give you—”’ He went to a little desk and wrote about half a minute. ‘“’There’s a check for two thousand on the Bronx Borough Bank. Pay your friend— and anything else you owe—and forget it.” “But, Fanning—” “Shut up and get out of here.” a | can’t—”’ “Get out of here or go to bed.” Tom laughed, wrung Fanning’s hand, put 617 on his hat and went out. His walk to the end of the Throggs Neck trolley line did not take very long. At the end of the line one other person was waiting for the next car. Tom dived behind some _ bushes. person was Mr. Batterson. The CHAPTER XX. LOOKING UP AT A WINDOW, OR obvious reasons Tom did not wish to come face to face with Batterson just at that time. He had no doubt that the fel- low had seen him on Fanning’s place, and if so, Batterson would understand the rea- son for his being there. But he was also eager to reach home before daylight and get to bed before any of the household were astir. Rather, however, than meet Batterson, he resolved to permit him to board that car, while he, Tom, would content himself with the next, though at that hour the interval between cars was very long. But these in- tervals were also very irregular. The crews of the cars seemed to have no schedule, or something would occur that delayed a car. So that two of them might arrive at the terminus and leave again close together in point of time. And this was the very thing that had happened that morning. The car that Tom expected to board when it came, and for which Batterson was waiting, was a delayed car, so that two ar- rived in quick succession. This brought about a condition of af- fairs that produced results of such magni- tude and importance that the actors in this history would have stood aghast with hor- ror had they been told beforehand what was destined to occur. As one car was delayed and the other on time, it followed as a matter of trolley car reasoning that as both had arrived at once they must leave at the same time. Tom, peeping from his hiding place, saw Batter- son board the car that was to start first. He waited patiently, and when that car began to move away he ran and boarded the following one, which started off in about a minute. There was not, all the way to Westches- ter Square, more than three hundred feet between the two cars. At Westchester a change of cars was nec- essary. Here no such good luck could be CORMICLOOOKS (C@