The Argosy, Vol. 83 No. 1 — page 152: what you’re looking at

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

142 were looking after those other guests from the train, you can take it from me that he couldn’t have gone outside the hotel with- out my knowing it. For I stood across the street watching the door for at least five minutes after I saw him go through it. He’s still in that room. Come ahead—if he won’t come down to us, why we'll have to go up to him.” I left George to watch the desk and started after the sharp-nosed man who was leading the way to the stairs. “Bring your pass-key,” he ordered me over his shoulder. I went back and got it. And then I fol- lowed at his heels up to the closed door of 410. I’m not going to pretend that I was per- fectly cool. Remembering the hefty build of the man I’d sent up to that room, who might put up a desperate fight to resist capture by this bloodhound of the law who was on his track, there was a tingle of ex- citement running down my spine as I waited to see what would happen, after my wiry companion’s knuckles struck the panels of the door. There was no answer to his knock. He rapped again. And then, drawing out something that glittered from his hip- pocket, he tried the knob. The door was locked. “Let’s have it,’ said the man beside me curtly, holding out his other hand for the pass key. I gave it to him, and he fitted it in the keyhole and turned the lock. Then, bring- ing the revolver up from his side into full view and ready for business, he flung the door open and stepped across the thresh- old. I heard him give a gasp of surprise. Rising on my tiptoes and looking over his shoulder, I understood why. The room was empty. “He’s flown the coop!” I blurted out. The man with the gun in his hand said nothing. With his lips pressed tight together, he pushed the door shut with his foot. Then he spoke, shortly: “Come out. You’re caught.” THE ARGOSY. There was a full minute of silence, while neither of us moved. ‘The sharp- nosed man walked to the closet and jerked the door open. Then he got down on his knees and looked under the bed. The man he was searching for wasn’t hiding in either place. Getting up, he turned over on the bed where they’d been tossed down, the over- coat and the soft felt hat that I’d seen on the thick-set man when I’d first sent him up-stairs with George. Underneath the heavy, dark overcoat stood the black leather valise. The man in the brown derby tried the bag to see if it was locked. — It opened easily in his hands—empty as the day it was bought. “Do you suppose,” I asked, my voice lowered with awe, “that he was carrying the money in it?” “Yep; that’s what he took the boodle away in. I’ve been shadowing him ever since, and so he hasn’t had a chance to ‘plant’ it anywhere. He could have hid- den the bills about his person easily enough, though, when he skipped out this way.” He was squinting and unsquinting his eyes around the room in that way he had, from under a puzzled frown. Impatiently he struck one fist in his palm. “But where has he gone?” he demanded. “Where could he have gone? It’s not fif- teen minutes since I watched him come into this hotel. And it’s less than that since you showed him up to this room—” “He must have- found out that you were on his trail, eh?” I broke in. “I suppose so. Though Ill swear I can’t see how he did. I was careful not to let him suspect that I was shadowing him. So careful, in fact, that I pretty nearly lost him a couple of* times on the way here.” He continued to look around the room as he went on musingly: ‘‘How he could have got away with the entrance of the hotel watched, I can’t see—but wait. There’s a back door to this house, isn’t there?” “Ves, but—” ECORMICGLOOKS (C@