Argosy All-Story Weekly — "The Purple Limited" — page 154: what you’re looking at

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

120 as he had anticipated. The young gangster seated himself docilely enough on the edge of the chair'to which the inspector pointed a peremptory hand and his small, ratlike eyes darted swiftly from one to the other of — the two determined faces before him, but he carried himself with an air of self assur- ance which had been lacking in the frst encounter. “Look here, Joe, I suppose you know you’re in for a stretch?” McCarty began impressively when a glance from Inspector Druet put the interrogation into his hands. Bodansky grinned foolishly, but the gleam of shrewdness lingered in his gaze. “T ain’t done nottin’,” he averred dog- gedly. “ ’Course I had de gat an’ de jack an’ de keys on me, but it’s a foist offense, barrin’ dat stretch in de reform’tory ar’ I'll get off light.” ‘What makes you think so?” demanded McCarty. “Do you sappese your gang would bother. to have any wires pulled to get you off, you poor little runt of a white- livered piker? That Lexingten Avenue gang ef cheap crooks have only been kidding you if you think they stand in with the ward boss, let alone anybody higher up.” ‘“T ain't kickin’,” vouchsafed Bodansky, slumping comfortably forward in his chair with his bullet-head outthrust between his hunched shoulders like that of a turtle. “Tm willin’ to take whatever youse can hand me. I didn’t have nottin’ to do wit’ croakin’ Crawford—” “Crawford?” McCarty caught him up sharply. “So you kaew Creveling as ‘ Crawford,’ eh?” The slumped figure stiffened suddenly and the rat eyes shifted, but he drawled: ““ Creveling, was it? It’s all de same to me. It ‘ought youse called him ‘ Crawford ’ dat night, an’ I ain't been readin’ de poipers regular since!’ He grinned again, but his lips trembled and he raised a slack hand to cover them. McCarty seized the opportunity which the final remark presented. “Tf you had, you’d have known better than to take that line with us, Joe. We're on to it that Creveling was known as ‘Crawford’ sometimes, aad why, but we didn’t think you were in on that deal. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. You'll go up for something more than at- tempted burglary now, my gosseon!” A shade of terror darkened the pasty face and Joe Bodansky writhed in his chair. ‘““T dunbo what youse mean!” he whined. ‘“ Honest t’ Gawd I never heard of dat guy till I saw him lyin’ dere wit his face gone! If he was known as Crawford youse must ‘ve said so den an’ dat’s how I get it! Honest t’ Gawd—”’ McCarty turned to the dumfounded in- spector and asked cryptically: ‘Shall we get the other one over from the Tombs and face ‘em, sir? We've got it now that the big fellow was Rolding out on us about Joe here, aad when he knows joe give him away—” A thin, wailing cry breke in upon him and Bodansky, shivering with fright, turned imploringly to the inspector. ‘““T ain’t no snitcher! I didn’t give him away! What are youse trying to frame me for? If youse get him over an’ he thinks I spilled on him youse had better send me up for life, for he’ll see dat I’m croaked de . foist tame I show me face in de street! { ain’t in on his game, on my modder, I ain’t! He don’t even know I’m wise to it!”. - “Then come dean!” the inspector ad- vised grimly. ‘“Tell us bow you knew Creveling was Crawford?” “It was all on account of dat skirt I | got st&ck on,” Bodansky admitted with evi- dent reluctance. ‘I told youse de Gawd’s trut’ when I said dat I’d never turned a trick before de night youse nabbed me com- in’ out of dat window, but I stood in wit’ de gang an’ got my bit when dey pulled off anyt’ing, see? About two mont’s ago a guy was rolled over on Madison Avenue; oh, I didn’t have anyt’ing to do wit’ dat part of it, an’ I don’t know who did de rollin’ so I ain’t afraid to open me trap about it! Anyhow, when de split was made. in Hogan’s back rooni I dragged down, twenty iron men, an’ de foist t’ing I t’ought of was a gold bracelet wit’ red stones in it over across de way in K: fi’s window. Me goil had been lookin’ at it an’ hintin’ around dat de guy dat owns de candy-store where she works would get it for her. Say, how did youse get on to Kosakoff, anyhow? He don’t even run a hock-shop like most - 9A nn) | 6) 5) a (C(O) A S