The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 4 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

A SECRET OF “What the deuce is up?” he asked him- self as he went up three steps at a time to his room. CHAPTER XXII. ~ ~~ EARLY Act Y ordinance calls for a watchman where explosives are used for excavat- ing purposes, when the actual work is not in progress. Fanning had nothing to do with this. The sub contractor who did the blasting was under a heavy bond, and was responsi- ‘ble for all damage to adjacent property or to persons passing. In this case there was no adjacent prop- erty to be damaged, there being no build- ings in that block on either side of Lamar- tine Avenue. There was little fear of in- juring any passer-by, for the sub contractor was a careful man, and before every blast his flagmen carried their red flannel flags ~ an unusual distance in each direction. Nevertheless, a watchman had been em- ployed, and his name was Gregorio Attula. He had a little shanty near the magazine in which the dynamite was kept, and here he was supposed to be, wide awake, from the time work was stopped at five o’clock until it was begun again the next morning. The portable office, which had been set up the day before, stood about twenty-five feet from the watchman’s shanty. Gregorio Attula was, no doubt as faith- ful as the average watchman. Sitting alone in a shanty during the long still hours of the night has nothing to recommend it as a pleasure pursuit. And it was Gregorio’s custom, when the dawn appeared, and everything was calm and safe, to slip away to the corner where Tom was wont to go during the day, and refresh himself after a long, weary night, returning to his shanty in time to meet the first laborers and be re- lieved. The red car, swinging into Lamartine Avenue, sped to the job and stopped. Wade leaped out and assisted Joyce, who never needed assistance, and who seldom needed a chauffeur. But Wade’s business was to drive Mr. Kendry’s car and look after both. “Oh, my God!” burst from him as soon as Joyce’s feet had touched the ground. And the ejaculation was not without rea- son. : In the dim but now increasing light they MORNING DISCOVERIES. THE BRONX. 621 could see about them. The electric lights were out, but they saw enough—too much. Tom lay .with his feet inside the office door and his head on a loose piece of rock that had been thrown to the street by an improperly covered blast, or perhaps dropped from a wagon carrying away debris of stone not fit for foundation purposes. Without looking further Joyce uttered a cry of dismay and knelt at her brother’s side. “Oh, great Heaven! dead, he’s dead!” she moaned. has killed him. Tom! Tom! Speak to me, Tom!”’ And indeed it seemed as though the un- fortunate fellow tried to do so. For he stirred in his unconsciousness and moaned. “Thank God, he isn’t dead!” exclaimed Joyce. : But Wade either did not hear or paid no attention, for he had stepped past Tom’s prostrate body and entered the office. The light was dimmer inside, but the chauffeur was sharp-eyed. Lying on the floor, under a shattered shelf and a row of drawers was Batterson. “Here’s Batterson, Miss Kendry,” said Wade. “I’ve felt his heart. It doesn’t beat. He’s dead.” “Oh, merciful Father, Jimmy! They —they fought—and Tom has killed him.” In the dim light and in the excitement of the moment, Wade had failed to discover the shattered desk built against the wall. “Tom’s alive, Jimmy. Oh, if we had some brandy!” “T’ll get some blamed quick.” He leaped into the red car, and in less time than it takes to write it down he was at the corner. There are laws, and laws. Certain sa- loons, in fact the majority of them, open ac- cording to the law that governs them, at six o’clock. Others steal an hour, and begin a back room business at five. Sitting at a round table in the rear room of the corner place was Gregorio Attula, drinking his second glass of morning tonic. Wade, whose duties had not taken him near the job before, did not know the watchman, and Gregorio did not know Wade. Wade asked for, received, and paid for a bottle of brandy, and rushed out, saying nothing. | “Automobile accident, I suppose,’ re- marked the bartender, noting Wade’s garb. He’s dead, he’s “Batterson Dear Tom! COMMICLOOOKS (C@