The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

FLIRTING WITH DESPERATE HAZARD. Between his two captors Lewis started to “march.” The trio moved toward the door amid an awed hush which had fallen on the city room. Although he realized to what a ri- diculous extent he was innocent of the charge on which his arrest had been brought about, the reporter could not help reddening at the idea of being led, a prisoner literally in chains, past the silent crowd of his fellows in the office. What would they think of him? How, later on, could he ever explain the trivial predicament which was re- sponsible for his present plight—set himself straight in their eyes, with- out breaking his word, and divulging the secret that belonged solely to the Meteor? And here—they were at the door leading out into the reception room now. Perhaps the place was full. Good- ness only knew how many pairs of eyes would be trained on him, a hand- cuffed captive, as he was guided through that outer room. Some- body he knew might be waiting there— “Git along!” the sergeant snarled, emphasizing the order by a vicious twist of his arm, as the reporter hesi- tated a fraction of a second before the door. “Don’t try to start anything now. Better come quiet, an’ not pile up no more trouble fer yerself than’s comin’ to ye already!” Lewis flatly balked. “Look here!” he flared at the cop- per, then turned and aimed his ap- peal, in a less belligerent tone at the detective on his right—‘“ Inspector! These handcuffs aren’t at all neces- sary, you know. I’ve decided to go along with you to the station-house, and prove my innocence—’” “Then come on,” the other cut him off, “and let’s have no more talk about it.” “ But I don’t like to go this way!” the reporter protested. “I’m per- fectly willing to walk with you to any 117 jail you name, and go along without the least fuss, only—take these con- founded bracelets off my hands, and save me the disgrace—”’ “Go on!’’ repeated the sergeant, throwing open the door. ” Ye’d bet- ter not do any more gassin’, or we'll gag ye. Then yell be disgraced a divil of a lot more’n what ye are!”’ The reception-room was deserted, as it happened. Lewis, as he stepped into it, gave a sigh of relief as his eye swept the row of empty seats against the wall. His captors had no need to hurry him now. Before anybody came into the place, as at any moment a caller or two might, Lewis was anxious to get out. He went across the room between his guards, and out through the door to the hall where the eleva- tors were, almost at a run. “Tryin? to break away again, are ye!” puffed Sergeant O’Malley, hang- ing to his elbow. “Oh, ye’re the spirited one, ain’t ye—yes, indeed. Well, we'll break that same spirit for ye, me laddy-buck! Wait an’ see. Just wait till ye’re safe in the lockup, an’ then—” “Inspector, can’t you take these things off?’ Lewis pleaded. “TI give you my word they aren’t necessary. I'll agree to go with you as meek as a lamb, if you'll free my hands, unlock these ornaments and put them away. I swear I won’t try to escape, even if the chance offers, just so you'll re- move these—these idiotic relics of the Spanish Inquisition! ” Inspector Flinch had placed his fin- ger on the bell to summon one of the elevators. And already Lewis could see him- self in that car, perhaps with a half- dozen people, some of whom might know him, but every one certain to be deeply interested in a man, handcuffed and in the custody of two plain-clothes men, on his way to jail! Why, who wouldn’t stare at a sight like that? Instinctively he doubled his arms, pressing his wrists together flat against oO cComicbooks CO