The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 229: what you’re looking at

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

WIZARD OR CROOK. business on your part I'll jerk you down to headquarters so fast that it'll make your head swim.” . _ Ramsdéll made no answer. In fact, there was nothing to say. Results, not words, were what he must pin his faith to now; and for the results he could only wait and hope. So the little group stood there on the sidewalk, McConnell grumbling under his breath, the detectives yawn- ing and supercilious, Ramsdell tense and taut as a coil of wire spring.. The slow minutes passed so monoto- nously that the commissioner at last started to broach the sneering query if this was an all-night job; but just then the student gave a low hiss for silence, and, motioning energetically with his hand, waved the drawn-up forces to right and left. Dramatically he pointed with his finger as McConnell and his men be- held what seemed to them a veritable miracle; for slowly and noiselessly one of the great granite foundation blocks of the building began to revolve as on a pivot. Farther and farther it moved, wider and wider opened the aperture, until at last the crouching figure of a man sprang through, and, straightening up, revealed the handsome, reckless face of the fellow Ramsdell had seen in the touring-car. , McConnell recognized him also, and recoiled with a start. “By all the powers,” he exclaimed incredulously, “if it isn’t Glenn Mc- Keon!” The trapped criminal noted this mo- mentary stupefaction on the part of the commissioner, and took advantage of it. With a snarl of defiance he turned and sprang like a startled deer into full run, desperation lending him wings. But Ramsdell was not going to let him escape so easily as that, after all the suffering and annoyance he had caused Ethel. | Like a contest between a rabbit and a greyhound was the chase, but the 215 shorter pair of legs won; and before the corner was reached Ramsdell had the satisfaction of clutching his lengthy opponent about the waist and bringing him to a halt. McKeon turned and struck out vi- ciously, but before more than one blow landed McConnell and his cohorts had come up, and the battle was over. That one blow had been enough, though. “Did he hurt you? ” asked McCon- nell, observing how rueful looked the hero of the occasion. “No; his lick only grazed my tem- ple. But’ — Ramsdell pointed sadly to the shattered fragments of glass on the sidewalk — “he broke my spec- tacles.” ‘“ Broke your spectacles? Why, you speak as though it was a tragedy. You can get another pair, can’t you? ” Ramsdell shook his head more lugu- briously than ever. ‘“ Not like this pair,” he said. CHAPTER XI. _ HIS LITTLE SECRET. SELDOM had there been a more im- portant arrest in the city, or one arousing more comment and sensation, than that of Glenn McKeon; for the most dangerous criminal is always the one of education and intelligence who prostitutes his talents and ability to base and sordid ends. It was discovered on investigation that McKeon in the practise of his pro- fession had arranged in many of the buildings constructed by him secret entrances similar to the one in the Poe library, the existence of which was known only to himself. The object was undoubtedly to per- mit him to enter and loot at will the establishments occupying these struc- tures; and through his arrest many hitherto seemingly inexplicable bur- glaries were brought to light, and one or two innocent men released from prison. CoOMmicbook CO