The Argosy, Vol. 83 No. 1 — page 76: what you’re looking at

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

66 weapon, he whirled and swept the lamp from the shelf with a swing of his arm. It crashed on the floor and went out, and. in the black darkness there was a writh- ing, cursing tangle of six men in various states of consciousness and fighting effici- ency. 0 CHAPTER XIX. LOOPING THE DIP. HREE factions strove in the darkness for supremacy; three pairs of men, and each pair battling with impartial ferocity against the two others. “Keengsell!’’ yelled a voice that was easily recognized as that of the dark man, “dey get da pape!—get da pape outa my han’!” The voice of Kingsale, grown stronger, rose above the turmoil and cursed the poor fellow who so honestly confessed his dere- liction. “T’ve got it, Exmoor!” shouted Fox- ford, barely making himself heard. “Now beat it!” “T’m covering the door!” cried King- sale; “if any one tries to pass me ['ll shoot.” There was a lull in the uproar. Ex- moor and Foxford were maneuvering to gain the exit without precipitating a rush, and the others were groping for them. There was a sudden sharp scuffle. “Here, Harry! I’ve got ’em!” declared Delroy. “Over here! Come!” A concerted dash followed the an- nouncement, and in the mélee a pair of hands found Delroy’s throat. He gurgled and strangled, but fought so desperately with his assailant that he extricated him- self. “Help me, Exmoor!” yelled Foxford; “they’re getting it away!” A random fist, smiting anything that offered resistance to a blow, caught Del- roy in the neck and all but paralyzed him. He was losing courage now; the Stygian blackness, the groping unknown hands, were too much for him. Some one tackled THE ARGOSY. him about the knees and threw him, and his terror broke loose. “Help! Help!” he yelled, putting all his remaining energy into the call. ‘Help! Murder!” | The swinging door banged against the wall. The six combatants sensed a sev- enth person in the room. “The police are coming!” cried a new voice, and at least two of the men recog- nized it as Jerry Hampton’s. A match flared in the blackness, and they saw Hampton standing in the door- way, pointing a warning finger at the stairs. In the hush that came upon them they heard running feet on the pavement outside. block or two away. Jerry struck another match, and the dark-skinned man rushed to the rear of the room and threw open a trap-door. “Down here!” he cried hoarsely; ‘‘out da back door!” Panic seized them. All striving for the precious packet was abandoned, and every man fought to get down the narrow lad- der that could be seen dimly through the trap. The dark-skinned man had the start of the others, and he was the first to disap- pear through the rectangular hole. Del- roy, although he had called for aid, and the police had responded, was no longer desirous of meeting the rescuers, and he jumped for the ladder simultaneously with Foxford. A patrolman’s whistle shrilled a _ They became wedged for a moment in - the aperture, and in their panic they slapped and pummeled each other without reason until both fell through and tum- bled to the floor below. Delroy groaned and cursed every one impartially, and his groans turned to howls as the descending Exmoor used him as a landing cushion, and was followed instantly by Kingsale, who was still feeble as a result of the battle. The proverbially ponderous feet of the policemen were thundering on the stairs as Jerry Hampton and the chauffeur slid down the ladder, and Jerry, going last, ECORNICLOO@ (C cS) (C©)