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Show giC A G E D j gj jj By Courtney Ryley Cooper fcJ Copyright by Courtney Ryley Cooper (WNTJServ.ee.) u 1, ,.,!?mT,, jjM CHAPTER XIII Continued 27 "The name doesn't make any difference." differ-ence." Joe was wavering now. His lower lip dropped. His shoulders jerked, awkwardly. The lids of his eyes seemed to roll back until they were lost. A queer, chattering cry came from his throat, resolving itself at last into words, high-pitched, screaming even above the squall of the radio. "What do I care what your name is? You tried to send me to the chair and when you didn't get away with that, you framed this up you and your Big Friday here that would double-cross a man to death to Join up with you. That's what counts what you've done. And you're not going to do anything more " Vaguely he wondered why they did not leap for protection, why the woman only sucked at her cigarette, why the poker chips still rattled In those swift-moving fingers. Only Louie there, striving striv-ing to slide behind the protection of an open wardrobe trunk. Only the stocky man In chauffeur's uniform gliding along the wall. "Well, your crooked schemes didn't work I You tried to kill me. It's my turn now!" The queer cry echoed in his throat again. The slick black of an automatic auto-matic shone for an Instant; straightening straighten-ing instinctively. A horrible blur passed over him. His finger was pressing the trigger, pressing the trigger trig-ger "The reason that gat won't work," said Fulllhouse laconically, "is because the hammer spring's busted. You didn't think I'd slip you a real rod, did you?" For an Instant longer Joe Barry's finger twitched at the loose, response-less response-less trigger. Jamison leaned back from his poker chips. "Close in," he said quietly. The chauffeur edged behind Joe. Full-house Full-house shifted a step nearer. Big Friday Fri-day came, almost saunteringly from the bathroom door, his uncanny eyes I J. 7 ' There Had Come a Knock on the Door. Joe Barry Whirled. "Block Him," Spoke the Man at the Poker Table. glowing behind the heavy lenses. But suddenly they halted. Silence had literally shouted through the room. The radio, blasting, only a moment before, had died, instantly, completely. "What you think?" Louie BertolinI asked nervously. "The radio shut off I" "Don't shout about it !" snapped Jamison. "But 1 don't like it. All the time today I don't like it. Why wouldn't they give us that next room?" "Oh, go on about that next room," growled Big Friday. "You saw who was in the next room." "Louie wants a whole floor by himself," him-self," drawled Fullhouse, eyeing the silent, sweating Barry. "Whnt the h 1, some old lady with white hair." "I don't like nobody in no next room," said Louie, pawing at a leather bag. "With that radio shut off and maybe a dictograph working. They can hear through a dictograph with the radio shut off." "You ever see 'em put In a dictograph?" dicto-graph?" asked Fullhouse. "It's a Job. You been reading them detective magazines." mag-azines." "I'll see what's doing in the next room," answered Louie excitedly. He took a telephone microphone from the grip, equipped with ear tubes and a soft, rubber collar. He placed it against the wall. The shake of his head indicated no sound from the other side. Jamison rattled the chips again. "Telephone down and find out what's wrong with the radio," he commanded Fullhouse. "Maybe that'll shut Louie up." "Well, don't block a guy's way,' snapped Fullhouse and brushed the undetermined form of Joe Barry aside. There was a moment's wait. "They say the air's clear for an S. 0. S.," turning suddenly from the wall. There had come a knock on the door. Joe Barry whirled. Perhaps this meant a chance I "Block him," spoke the man at the poker table. The chauffeur, Big Friday Fri-day and Fullhouse shifted quickly to intercept any attempt at escape. Again the knock sounded. Fullhouse looked over his shoulder, rolling his eyes. The knock had taken definite form now, swift taps, then short ones and three slow beats. Fullhouse turned the hasp and twirled the knob. The door opened and closed quickly, admitting ad-mitting a dapper, thin mnn with a small case, like a doctor's bag. "Fine job that Tomcat did," said Fullhouse glaring down at the case. "Yeh, and a hot chopper you are! You'd miss a flock of barns." "Been waiting for you, Greer," said Jamison calmly, "We've got to duck." "Oh yeah?" The chopper raised his eyes to the haggard features of Joe Barry. "Got him after all, eh? Going to take him with us?" CHAPTER XIV Jamison shoved back his chair. "Never mind coming any farther, chopper," he said casually. The dapper dap-per Greer put his bag on the floor. It thumped heavily. "Oh yeah?" he asked. Jamison eyed his finger nails. "Boston." The chauffeur edged past Joe; his shoulders and the back of his bead were familiar now. Joe Barry had seen them one night, through the glass paneling of a rich automobile, as it glided out Fifth avenue and through Central park. "You and Louie unpack that trunk. Take the drawers out and break off the standards to give plenty of room. Put what stuff you can in the grips. Leave the clothes on the floor. Louie, I said you, too!" he snapped. "Can't you get away from that wall? We've looked into all that. There's windows on two sides of us, a hall on a third and that one room on the other, and nobody in It but a white-haired old woman who didn't have enough sense to keep me from wandering all through the place when I said I'd gotten in there by mistake. How much more do you want?" "All right," said Louie. He was sweating furiously. "I don't like that radio shut off. Maybe it's got a dictograph dicto-graph in it." "Then yank out the plug and pull the speaker away from the wall. Throw It out the window for all I care. Unpack that trunk." He smiled then, and turned to Joe Barry. "Well, boy," he said, "I guess you've got us nailed to the mast How much jack do you want?" "I don't want any money," said Barry. "Let me out of here." "To get us and yourself in bad? Not till I've talked some sense to you. They've still got a reader out for you, you know that. You're not sitting so sweet." "I'll know what I'm talking about if they arrest me ! I've got you figured fig-ured out now. Big Friday here can't keep lovered up, not after what they know about him when he was with ITymie Fradke." His voice was jerky, ne turned his head often, in desperate glances at the men behind him. Suddenly Sud-denly he realized that the gun was still in his grasp, half hanging at his side. He shifted it, and caught it anew, so that the butt was outward. "You let me out of here!" he demanded de-manded again. "Listen, kid," Jamison said. "Don't you worry. You're going out of here. It just depends on how you do It. Use your bean and you'll walk out. Start yapping and you'll ride. How's that? Now let's talk jack. I'm reasonable." "Jack for what?" "You're squawking, ain't you?" asked Fullhouse. "I've got a right to!" . "Nobody said you ain't," agreed Big Friday thickly. "We're ready to talk business." Joe Barry's teeth clicked. "Yes, Martin there, or Jamison or whatever his name Is, talked business to me once before. Promising me ten thousand dollars to take a little fall as he called It. Why weren't you game enough to tell the truth, that you and your gang had killed two men up the river there and that you were looking for somebody to send to the death house?" (TO BE CONTINUED.) |