The Argosy, March 1907 — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

Ae It was true. Francis had been brought into the station-house as a suspect, and, since he resembled, in a way, a certain much-wanted Chicago crook, was de- tained for a Bertillon examination. Then, through some sort of police bungling—and such cases are not so in- frequent as might be imagined—he had been overlooked in the morning round- up, and had been held in his cell im- communicado throughout the entire day. In fact, he asserted that if it had not been for the fortunate circumstance of Dave’s being put in with him he might still have been permitted to lan- guish there, and even eventually be railroaded over to the “Island” as a vagrant. “Had I had money with me it would have been very different,” he declared bitterly, “for one has to tip here as certainly as at a swell restaurant. But, sad to say, I had scarcely car-fare on me when I was arrested, and conse- quently my appeals and protests went unheeded.” And yet, for all his resentment, when Hal did get out, he did—nothing. He was like nine-tenths of ‘all the other in- habitants of the big metropolis—ready enough to rage and criticize, but un- willing to bestir himself or to take any trouble to right an imposition or a wrong. “But how did they come to pick you up?” probed Dave. ‘ Merely on_ac- count of your resemblance to this Chi- cago chap?” “Well, not entirely.” Hal flushed up a bit at the admission. ‘ Really, I can hardly blame them for that part of it, since I suppose my behavior must have appeared a trifle questionable. “You see, Dave,” he went on, “I was in a good deal of a wax when I went out of the apartment, so furious, in fact, at you and all the rest of the world, that in my absorption I quite for- got to take the turn in the hall toward the elevator, and first thing I knew found myself at the end of the corridor, clear over on the other side of the house. “Now, as you know, the freight ele- vator is there, and the car was standing at that floor as I came up; so the idea struck me that, rather than tramp back THE ARGOSY. — to the Forty-Fourth Street side, I would ride down on it, and go out the back way of the hotel. Henry, the elevator man, was nowhere in sight,-but that made small’ difference to me. I knew I could let myself down all right, and that he could pull the thing back again to our floor whenever he needed it; so on I piled, and down I went.” “Ah,” exclaimed Dave with sudden comprehension, “so that is how it was that nobody saw you leave the hotel?” “Exactly. Strange to say, there wasn’t a soul in sight down around the servants’ quarters, and I had mot the slightest trouble in getting out the back door and into that little passageway which leads toward Forty-Fifth Street. “It was dark in there, though, and as I had to pick my way carefully to avoid the garbage-cans and ash-barrels, and also as in my wild state of mind I had my hat jammed down preity well over my eyes, I fancy, to any one watch- ing me, I must have presented the ap- pearance of a skulking intruder, all right. ‘At any rate, when I came to the mouth of the alley I was suddenly startled by having a dark lantern flashed in my face and being asked by a big patrolman what I was doing there? “I was so taken by surprise and flus- tered that—would you believe it?—when he demanded to know where I belonged I pointed to the right instead of to the left, and before I could stop him he had marched me up to the cook of that private house back there, who, it seems, was a friend of his, to find out if I was telling the truth. ‘Well, of course it was all off then as far as he was concerned. Nothing I could say or do was able to make the slightest impression, The only thing he knew was the station-house for mine, and rather than appear disobliging or cause any ill feeling, to the station-house I came. “The rest I have already told you,” Hal concluded, “and, as I say, I can’t really blame the patrolman much. He did no more than was his duty. But I'll swear to you, Dave,” with a return to his grievance, “when I get out of here I’m going to make somebody suffer for the other things I have had to en- dure.” Gomichbooks sco . * ote m |