Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 2 — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

250 double-crossed us; do you?” muttered the chief, to a captain who had entered to re- ' port his search through the rest of the building. ‘“ Not by the looks of the Echo’s watch- dog,” dryly returned the captain. ‘“ We found Bill just about coming to, but too weak to get up, and swearing in a whisper that he’d cut the heart out of that—girl. I think it more likely that the Echo sus- pected Zelda and had her watched at the time she sneaked into headquarters.” “The Echo has a good many ways of finding out things,’ sourly replied the chief, who evidently was trying to feel re- signed. Presently, he bowed, half-admir- ingly, to the abstracted Echo, and even closed the door as he went out. - When he had gone, the Echo—breathing fast—turned to look with a misty, wide- eyed intentness at this young man who in some strange way had come between her and complete, ruinous disaster. And upon her stole the overwhelming, incontestable truth that it was his innocence—his igno- rance of evil ways—that alone had saved her. She pondered, wonderingly. Then, in a voice curiously soft—plain- tive, almost—she slowly murmured: | “Can yon play Dmitrieff’s Nocturne?” Alan looked dazedly at her. The Noc- turne—his father’s own composition—one of the first “pieces” he as a boy had Jearned to play. A curious sensation came over him—he tingled with an odd sort of expectation——as his trembling fingers now took the violin from its case. At the first soft, tremulous note, the Echo sank back in her chair, She seemed worn out—tired almost to the point of collapse. Finally, the young musician’s bow dropped from the strings—and he waited. The woman’s features were twitching con- vulsively. She had risen—bent and old she seemed — and her vacant eyes appeared - fixed on the past, as she said in a voice wistful with the infinite pathos of futile, sorrowing regret: “T always sang you to sleep with that song, Alan. The music was your father’s; the words, mine. Just a baby you were then—a long, long time ago.” THE ARGOSY, A great wonder came upon the young man’s face—a deep understanding and a thrill to his heart—and he held out his hands as though to encourage and welcome this tired old woman, upon whose counte- nance was written unutterable misery. She stumbled blindly toward him, but gently held him off as he sought to touch her. Then, with barely the suggestion of a caress—her fingers traveled reverently down the sides of his garments; and this proud, terrifying woman who had humbled New York’s police force, and who had bowed to no man—now groveled at the feet of the young musician. ‘“My boy—my son! Oh, why did I have to tell you!’’ she moaned—the shamed, agonized cry of a mother-love that at last had triumphed over all evil. To this day, the breaking up of the Echo’s gang is to the police as much a matter of wonderment as an occasion for sincere self-congratulation. It happened so suddenly — so unexpectedly. — apparently without a scintilla of reason; for it patently could not be attributed to the publishing of Telowitz’s confession. — One day the gang was in the full swing of its pernicious activities, harrowing the soul of every official, ‘“ copper,” and de- tective on the force, and amassing valuable © loot; the next, it had ceased to exist. Simultaneously, great booty (including the Maiden Lane swag) flowed mysterious- ly back into the hands of its rightful own- ers; many others received as mysterious- ly full restitution in money for that of which they had been despoiled. True, certain members of the band “worked ” on, in a desultory sort of way, but independently of organization and seemingly without their old-time intelli- gence and skill, which formerly had enabled them to defy detection. The police gradu- ally gathered them in, and no powerful in- fluence was exerted to save them. Or, like Zelda Carter, they drifted to far cities.. What completed the mystification of the department was the verified report that the Echo was living quietly and honestly, in Boston, with a young couple who were alleged to be her son and daughter-in-law Gomichoo (Sc cS 4 (E©)