Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 1 — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

NEW STUFF “Ed,” I remark, “ you’ve knowed me for quite a few years. Tell me, please, who I am.” ‘“ Why—why—”’ stuttered Ed, lookin’ at me like he suspected I’d suddenly gone soft, like himself, ‘“ why, you’re Joe Connor.” “Not until further orders I ain't!” I contradict him. “I’m Sheriff Conner. Got that? Sheriff—s-h-e-r-e-f. Let me hear you say it.” ‘* Sheriff,” he says. “* Say ‘ yes, sir,’”’ I bid him. “* Yes, sir,” he repeats. ‘Letter perfect!’”? I compliment him. ‘“‘ Well, that’s the dope. You're to call me ‘ sheriff ’ and to say ‘ yes, sir’ and ‘ no, sir’ and obey orders.”’ “Why?” he asks. “Tt’s new stuff for Elliot,” I explain. “ That’s all I'll tell you.” ‘Well, at seven o’clock that night, that bein’ the time Ed informed me _ Elliot usually was through with his supper, me and Ed are to be seen and heard knockin’ on the door of Elliot’s flat. Said flat is situated in the Fifties on the wrong side of Eighth Avenue on the top deck but one of a five-story tenement. Elliot himself answers us. so completely described him, a little feller and hair is what he ain’t got. What he has got, though, is a mean-lookin’ thin face, a beak like a parrot and a grin that would remind you of a poisoner preparin’ the fatal dose. “Well?” he snaps, eyin’ me up and down. | ‘Is this the man, Mr. Taylor?” I ask Ed. “Yes, sheriff,” replies Ed, grabbin’ his cue perfect. “¢ Sheriff!’ gasps Elliot. “Mr. Taylor here,” I tell him, “ reports that you’ve refused to pay a certain bill which he’s tried to collect. What’s the bill, Mr. Taylor?” ‘Four hundred and six dollars, sheriff,’’ says Ed. “ Owin’ to Flubb & Company for furniture.”’ “H’m,” I grunt. ‘ Well, Mr. Elliot,” I say, “‘ this is a serious matter. I want to warn you to be careful about what you say in my presence. Be especially careful FOR ELLIOT. He is, as Ed 57 about your constitutional rights. Yes, sir, your constitutional rights are what you’ve got to be careful about.” “ What’s them?” asks Elliot. “Oho!” I exclaim. ‘“ You don’t know, eh? That’s really too bad. That explains everything, Mr. Taylor,” I say to Ed. Ed nods wise-like, although, of course, he had no-more idea what I was talkin’ about than Elliot did—or I did myself. E]- liot, though, was weakenin’. He’s blinkin’ and starin’ at me, and his lips is quiverin’ with an effort to say somethin’, “Why,” I bellow at him so sudden that he jumps a foot, ‘“‘ why don’t you pay, Mr. Taylor? Be careful what you say!” I warn him before he can speak. “ Are you goin’ to pay?” I roar as he stands there stutterin’ and -winkin’. - “N-no!” he stammers brazen-like. ain’t!” I turn to Ed with a sad smile. “Mr. Taylor,” I say, “ you win your case. This person has declared before a witness—me—that he don’t intend to pay. Now I can do nothin’ but my duty. Fol- low me, Mr. Taylor.” I brush by Elliot into the flat, Ed fol- lowin’. When I’m inside I take out a match and light every gas jet in sight. Then I draw from my pocket some papers which cost me twelve cents at a law sta- tioner’s that afternoon. Id plastered big red seals on them to make them look more dangerous than they would ordinarily. EI- liot’s eyes nearly prop from his head when he sees them. “You wanted new stuff, huh?” I think. “You're gettin’ it, old kid!” To Elliot I say: ‘“ Well, sir, have you got your bonds- man?” ‘“ B-bondsman!”’ he gasps. “He hasn’t even got a bondsman, Mr. Taylor!” I tell Ed in a tone that says I consider it a crime that’s almost worth a Jail sentence. ‘“‘ Well,” I sigh, ‘“‘ we'll have to get along without one. Take this, Mr. Taylor,” I order Ed, handin’ him the top paper from my package. “ Let’s see your list,” Mr. Taylor.” . “List?” repeats Ed. “That blue card,” I explain, and Ed gives it to me. ‘“ Now, we’re ready,” I sel | COMICLO© S C©