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Show , xit r A I j :( FICTION QUICK CHARGE Mfl j car opposite him. But the pigeons weren't used to Rorty and they were closer than he'd thought; at his sudden sud-den approach they leaped into the air with clattering wings, a whirling cloud. Rorty dodged and smacked squarely Into the old woman. He weighed two hundred pounds; she went down. He hadn't hurt her, but by the time he'd gone through the automatic reaction of picking her up and seeing that she was all right, the doors were closed and the train was on its way. "Thank you," the old woman said, but Rorty wasn't there to hear it. He was taking the steps four at a time to get to the street for a cab. "Gotta catch that train at the next j stationl" he bawled. "Step on it!" i I i The pupils of her eyes seemed to swell as she peered at him. "Did you do it, Mart?" "The murder? Kit, you know. You know I've been straight since I got' out. I've been sticking to the job. I've been getting good pay. I was in line for a raise when this " "But the police!" "It's a mistake. I swear it but I can't prove it. I was living in this cheap joint saving money so you ; could come on soon. Someone tricked this rich guy in there and : killed him. I knew they'd look up my record and pin it on me, just like they did, so I beat it first. It's just luck, just crummy luck. "I've been going straight, Kit. I j THERE were three people on the Sullivan Square platform; the old woman, Rorty, and the girl. Three south - bound trains had stopped and still the girl waited. So i Rorty waited too. He would have waited all day, as long as she was there, but he had an idea it wouldn't be necessary. Rorty was tough, leather-skinned, hard-headed; you wouldn't have thought it to look at ! him, but he had what amounted to an extra sense, delicate little feelers ' of perception, like invisible anten nae sprouting up from the round brick-hard skull. He could tell when .something was coming. Perhaps that was what had made him a good ,cop and, climbing from the ranks, a good detective; that and his ami- , able willingness to shoot it out on any and all occasions. Rorty was a mighty good man with a gun. He was conscious of the weight of M now, sheathed beneath his coat. , Something was J coming; sure, Mc- ' Thia Hugh was coming;. mis ny minute now. Week's Rorty knew it. They knew that McHugh ! Best bad written to her, I i r. . but they hadn't ! 1 Fiction known what he had i i said. Now it was ! obvious: He had arranged to meet her here, on a 'certain 1 train at a certain time. I ! It was three o'clock in the after noon and Rorty had been trailing the girl most of the day. He was going to bring McHugh in by himself, him-self, dead, as the saying goes, or .alive. Most likely dead, or near it. (' iRorty had a notion McHugh would 1 1 ' use his gun before he'd let anyone I take him; well, that was fine with Rorty. Let McHugh's hand move and he would see Rorty's hand move, but quicker, and that would be about the last tiling he would see. Take no chances with a killer, most I of all a young one. ! So Rorty stood there with his I screwy extra sense thrumming like i a violin string, listening to the rum- , ble of the approaching train. He had j been pretending to be in difficulties j with a gum-vending machine on the j platform. Now he gave it a couple i . of last jerks. His eyes slanted and he saw the girl stop her nervous pacing and stare at the train coming com-ing in. He saw that and he noticed too, though absently, the old woman who was the third person on the platform. She was feeding peanuts to the pigeons that always whirl and pout and parade around Sullivan Square. She was a tiny little thing, in drab black clothes, and she was smiling at the pigeons milling at her feet, strutting up for what she had to give them. The train rattled in and stopped with hiss and shudder of air. It 'didn't bother the pigeons; they were used to the El. The middle door of 1 the first car opened and Rorty j grinned and turned and took three quick steps toward the door of the I Rorty dodged and smacked squarely into the woman . . . the i doors closed and the train was on its way. The driver nodded. "Okay, boss." He yanked the wheels and slapped her through low to high. A light held them. "You wanna see the paper?" he asked, like a good tip-wise hack-ster. hack-ster. He fumbled for it in the bucket seat to pass it back to Rorty. "Dickens with it," Rorty complained, com-plained, trying to get a look at the train above. "Step on this can, will you?" Then he referred to the pigeons pi-geons in picturesque speech. THE girl found a seat and the young man held a strap in front of her. Both faces were young; alike too in that they were strained, white and empty. She moved to where there was more space and he followed fol-lowed and dropped down beside her. "You shouldn't have come, Mart. You shouldn't have taken the chance." "I had to see you," he said. "Maybe "May-be the last time. They won't take me, Kit. I'm better dead than in the pen again." even been going to church. I even told one of the curates all about us. He said when you came on we could be married right, in church, I mean." He looked at her quickly. "Did you tell anybody?" "I had to," she said. "I told Ma. She would have known soon anyway. any-way. She wasn't against you, Mart, in in spite of getting mixed up in that trouble. She said she felt you'd be a good man if you ever got a chance. Oh, Mart, what are we going go-ing to do?" "I'll get to Canada," he said. "I'll get there. Unless they they catch' up with me. They aren't taking me. Kit. I can't help it, baby; I'm not letting them take me. I got a gun here and I'll " "Oh no, Marti No, no, no!" Rorty missed it at City Square, but he got it at Friend street. He knew they hadn't left the train; he would have seen them. He caught it, all right, but not' alone. "First pigeons," pi-geons," Rorty muttered under his breath with a few other words, "and now these lugs." He meant about fifty high school boys and girls. They were talking, laughing and pushing, and Rorty was jammed with them into the car where apparently appar-ently they all wanted to stay. McHugh Mc-Hugh wasn't much older than any of these, Rorty thought grimly; well, too bad, too bad; product of environment, environ-ment, they called it; polite way of saying slums. He could see McHugh and the girl up in the car ahead, that wasn't crowded. Plenty of space, Rorty thought, if McHugh went for it. Tough in front of the girl, but what could you do? Rorty shoved his way forward, inch by inch. He didn't need that extra sense now, he could see what he was going after, but still it was plucking at his nerves. Maybe it means you're going to get it this time, Rorty. Maybe, maybe. "Doggone "Dog-gone it," Rorty grunted, "out of my way, will you!" He was jammed between be-tween a kid and a fat man, and the fat man was trying to read his paper, and the front page was literally liter-ally pushed into Rorty's face. He couldn't help seeing it. "McHugh Boy Innocent . . . Murderer Mur-derer Confesses . . . McHugh Exonerated Exon-erated . . . Flight Attributed to Panic ..." The train pulled into Boylston street while Rorty was still reading. He shouldered past the fat man, went out the door and walked down the platform. He put his arm in an open window and tapped McHugh on the shoulder and said quickly: "You're okay, we don't want you. Hey, leave that gun alone now; throw it away. Don't get scared so quick after this." As the train jolted ahead he shouted from the platform, "Buy a paper!" "What did he mean?" Kit gasped. "Gee gee, I don't know. Gee, I I Say, he said, get a paper. I haven't any change. You got any pennies?" "No." Kit said. She smiled: The first time in a week, it must have been. "You want to know why? See, Ma knew 1 was going to meet you. She wanted to have one good look at you, she said. She promised she'd act like she didn't know me. so I told her where. She said it'd look better if she was doing something, and 1 gave her my last few cents to buy peanuts for the pigeons." |