Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

re of the Cracker Pot seemed ‘with nervous tension. The big fel- low's face was far too familiar to some of them. The “live ones” in front of the bar took refuge in grim silence. In the dance hall Eddie Carbon came to a dead center _ among the high notes of a wonderful! musi- cal wallop. There was a restless shuffling of feet and the face of a young woman peered into the ladies’ parlor—it was blood- less, strained, and gaunt. Connors alone was master of his nerves. He had to be. It was his business, and, besides that, he was a fatalist. ‘“ You got to let ’em pin crépe on the front door when the undertaker comes,” was one of his pet maxims. All formalities were dispensed with by the clean-cut representative of the law. He walked straight up to Connors. “The captain wants to see you,” he an- nounced. Sure,” responded Connors, replacing the frayed cigar with a fat, poisonous looking member. “ Right away,” added the brisk minion of the law. “Of course,” replied Connors, who in some respects was now at his best. He had no idea what the peremptory summons might signify, and at the moment did not know what scheme of evasion he would em- ploy if the captain’s object was to question him concerning Jake’s mysterious enterprise. One thing, however, was certain: this was no raid on the Cracker Pot. He moved toward the door with the offi- cer. Standing near it was the Cracker Pot’s oldest customer—Joie the Jug. Under ordinary circumstances Connors would have ignored him, but now he was willing to capitalize even this small and meager asset. He was likewise desirous of flashing a mes- ave to Eddie Carbon, who had hurried for- ‘ard as soon as the first note of alarm had refore, in passing out, Connors patted m7 ing on the back and said: Toie, how many times have I quit spending in this place? | more to stay out of ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Then with a warning wink to the negro, he added: ‘ Eddie, I'm going out for a few minutes with my frien’ here, so look after all of my interests in the back room while I’m gone—will yuh— Eddie?” As Connors passed out with his “ frien’ ” the negro hurried into the dance hal!, where he lifted a trap door in the rear of the piano platform and disappeared into the black shadows below. On his way to the station house Connors’s mind was active. He was extremely anxious to learn whether Captain Jake’s nefarious project had anything to do with what he felt was to be a third degree session, and won- dered if the “ special ” at his side knew. He decided to approach the subject as adroitly as possible. ** Did you see that black man?” he asked. &e Yes.” ** He’s the best pianner tickler in America. He can choke a pianner to death with its own harmony.” Connors’s jocularity was not drawing the applause he anticipated, but an overpower- ing desire to coax the officer into conversa- tion impelled him to blunder on: “ Yep, he’s a wonder. Ain't had him long, either. He came in on a schooner with a relative of mine; a trip around the world, or some- thin’ like that.” = It was no use. If this silent, reserved officer knew aught of Captain Jake's bold venture, or of Connors’s affiliated interests. it was not his intention to divulge it. Therefore, silence reigned until they mounted the station house steps between the flickering green lights. Then he spoke. ‘‘ Wait here,” he commanded, indicating a small room opposite the captain's head- quarters. A moment later the officer stood before the desk. “ Did you bring him?” asked the captain while a grim sort of smile flickered under his heavy mustache. “ Yes, sir.” “Tell me—have we got anything on him?”’ “ Very little. He’s clever and to a cer- tain extent square. The scum of the river front gather there every night, but some how he manages to hold them in line In comicbooks.com