Argosy, Vol. 117, No. 3 — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

AN OUTSTANDIN’ ACCOUNT. “T ain’t goin’ to pay,” says Flanagan. “ Aw, judge!” I say back into the ’phone. “Have a heart! You don’t want to send a man like this to jail. He’s got a wife and a houseful of kids and—” “Have you gone looney?”’ the boss snaps. “ What’s all this bunk you’re talkin’?” “Oh, so: that’s the way it is!”’ I exclaim, cursin’ old Giles for not gettin’ the cue. He’s thick that way, the boss is. The only way you can get anything into his skull is by drillin’ a hole and pourin’ it in through a funnel. ‘So that’s the way it is, eh? I got to bring him in, eh?” “Got to bring whe in?” the boss i mands. ‘“ For cat’s sake, what are you talkin’ about?” “Oh, you'll let him off if he pays me some money?” I say. “ Did you hear that?” I ask Flanagan. ‘“ He says I can let you go now if you pay me somethin’ on account—just a couple of bucks.” “ He ain’t such a tough judge at that!” grins Flanagan. “Then you're goin’ to pay?” I ask, hope- ful. “Not much I ain’t!” “ Gee, judge,” I say into the ’phone, “this here is a sad case—a sick wife, a dozen little kids—”’ “T have not!” butts in Flanagan. “ Me old woman is as strong as a horse, and me only boy is workin’.” “What!” I exclaim, pretendin’ to be all excited at somethin’ that came over the ‘phone. ‘“ You’d give him—ten years! Great guns, Flanagan!” I gasp. ‘“‘ You ain’t goin’ lose ten years out of your life—just for the sake of a few dollars!” “YT want to tell me story to the judge,” says Flanagan. “Well, judge,” I tell the boss, ‘I guess there’s nothing to do but arraign this guy before you. I'll ask you, though, as a kind- hearted man who’s a father yourself, not to be too hard on him, but to remember your own little ones.”’ “IT don’t know what kind of monkeydoo- dle business you’re pullin’ there,” says the boss, ‘‘ but I’m thinkin’ you must be out of your nut! Who is it that you’re goin’ to bring here, and why?” “T told him all that,” I say. “ Well,” I kind of groan, “I’m sorry to bother you, judge, but we'll be right down.” I hang up the receiver and turn to Flan- agan with a sad face. “Tf you ain’t got no money now,” I suggest, “maybe I could fix it with the judge to let you go until you’re paid again.” ‘““T got plenty of money,” says Flanagan. “Then why don’t you give me some?”’ ‘““None of yer business! judge all about me case, and let him—’”’ “He'll send you up the river—sure!”’ ‘“‘T’ll take me chances. Let’s go to court and get it over with.” Well, if there was any chance of duckin’ between there and the office I’d have doneut. Flanagan, though, kept as close to me as the tail of my shirt. I couldn’t shake him— not even in the subway. You’d have thought it was him that was arrestin’ me. The sweat was pourin’ off me when we got to the office. Old Giles is about as bright as a lead pipe, and I had no way of knowin’ what kind of a bone he was lia- ble to pull on me to queer the gag I’d start- ed with Flanagan.. The big guy’s easy way of takin’ things sure had me worried. If he didn’t get scared into handin’ over some money when I sprung the bossson him as “* judge ” the jig was sure up! I could pic- ture him pickin’ me up with one hand and the boss with the other and gently droppin’ us Out into the.street as soon as he found out that all my talk about courts and pris- ons was just hokum. I open the door of the office, and, before the boss can say a, word, I’ve got my arm around his neck and I’m leadin’ him over to the corner. “Got to see you private, judge!” I tell him. “ Say, listen!” I whisper. “I’ve told this guy you’re Judge Giles, and that you’re goin’. to send him up the river if he don’t come across with the dough he owes Fein- stein and Reilly. As you value your life— act the part! This bird will kill us if he finds out he’s bein’ bamboozled.” “But what—” “ Act like a judge! I don’t care how you do it—but do it! Help me scare some dough out of this feller!”’ For the first time in his long and dishon- orable career the boss shows signs of almost CORICLOO (C “eS 379 T'll tell the | (C@