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Show Nf FICTION cawfl? I WSVl THE FORK BANDIT f.:J By DEE RANDALL . plate. She let out a growling hiss and rousing herself, waddled off in-, dlgnantly. She wasn't used to such shabby treatment. Nosey had no time to worry over this breach of friendship In Der-mie's Der-mie's indignant stamping off. In fact, she was back In a few moments, mo-ments, rubbing her face against his pants leg as a reminder of her gnawing vitals. She hadn't been fed in two hours. Nosey paid no attention to her pleading. He was waiting for the stranger who was to visit him. At precisely three o'clock, as the note stated, a tall, shabbily dressed man appeared. His dark hair was sleeked neatly back, but otherwise he was hardly a picture of sartorial elegance. "Mr. Collins? You received my note?" Nosey noticed the stranger's NOSEY COLLINS, as you know, is the Number One Egoist of the day. Just as Napoleon once laid . claim to the title. But that was back In the 17th or 18th century. And nobody no-body bothers much about him any more. Except those who like to dig and delve Into musty old history books. Napoleon had only an Empire to conquer. Nosey had a newspaper office and an ever-loving Tillie as stores? The same chain all the time. If we could get to the bottom of that, we'd be getting some place." Dermie's boredom with this conversation con-versation was evident. She settled back on the comfortable pillow Installed In-stalled In the drawer. But not before be-fore looking at the empty plate before be-fore her. Soon she was snoring peacefully. She knew the plate would be filled later on. The stranger's hand quivered nervously as Nosey motioned him to a chair. his territorial grounds. It's true, it proved rather expen-ive expen-ive this ego-building business. But no matter the cost, Nosey Is acclaimed ac-claimed as a self-made man. One of the finest men on the staff of the Daily Gazette. Besides Tillie and the newspaper office, it must be revealed, Nosey has still another love. She now lay cozily In her. private retreat . . . the right hand drawer of Nosey' i desk. There was a quiet purr as Nosey patted the soft, dirty white fur on Dermle'i neck. I Dermle was the pi nickname for Hy- podermlc. A name Week's fitting to the oversized over-sized cat because Best you really had to . . stick a needle In Fiction her to make her stir. There was only one other thing that would rouse this reflexlng feline. That was the rnell of boloney or liver, even from the farthest corner of the ink-smat-tered city room. Originally from the restaurant on the corner where she was expected to rid the place of mice and make herself generally useful, she had found refuge in Nosey' t comfortable comfort-able desk drawer. The clatter of dishes and hustle bustle of the crowded restaurant had proved too much for her sensitive nerves. Nosey stopped his tender patting. This annoyed Dermle no end. Raising Rais-ing her head, which was more energy en-ergy than she cared to use, she perked a quizzical eye at him. "Dermle," Nosey spoke seriously, "If we could get a beat on this Pork Bandit case, we'd sure have something." some-thing." Dermie's answer was an assenting assent-ing hiss. "Seven butcher shops In seven days," Nosey went on, "that's a record for any criminal. He's plenty nervy, too. Sent them all a notice beforehand. He's got the cops in a quandary. Must be a ghost bandit." Here he snickered scornfully at the idea of a ghost - ransacking a cash register and sticking a butcher knife in a man's back. "What puzzles me," Nosey went on with his one-sided conversation, "Is how he gets in and out with the cash right under their eyes. And why does he always pick on pork Nosey read and reread the unsigned un-signed note on his desk. "Maybe I'll be able to get a lead out of this after all," he reflected. Some butcher butch-er has received a note saying his store would be next. He was coming In to speak with the editor. The editor edi-tor had turned the whole business over to Nosey disgustedly. News seldom walked right into a newspaper news-paper office. Leads that came in by mail might better have been called "misleads." Usually some quack seeking publicity. Grim determination could be seen In the set of Nosey's features. The editor had faith in him. He would have to get to the bottom of this thing. As number one egoist, he felt certain he could. AN INDIGNANT public was be-coming be-coming boisterous In their vehement vehe-ment denials of this Pork Bandit who slew and robbed at regular daily intervals. The editor had hinted at a bonus or something equally satisfying satis-fying financially to the guy who got a lead on this story. It would sure come in handy, Nosey dreamed. Next month he and Tillie were getting get-ting married. A glint of happiness filled his usually usu-ally placid eyes. Sweet Tillie with her flaxen curls. And how she could cook! Nosey's mouth watered in anticipation an-ticipation of the daily meals, like those he had already sampled at Tillie's little apartment. Dermie opened drowsy eyes and looked reflectively at the still empty hand quivered nervously as he beckoned him towards a chair. He took the paper the man handed him. "I'm manager of the store on East 80th street. Received this note early this morning, I left the place and hurried right down here as soon as I could. Didn't have time to change my clothes," he looked down apologetically. "Your store will be next. This afternoon," the note read. It was signed: "The Pork Bandit." Nosey scanned the writing carefully. care-fully. Nothing there to give much oi a clue. "Have you seen the police?' "No sir, thought I'd speak to you first. They seem to be getting no where fast," he laughed ruefully "There has been a note before each crime, you know," he remindec him. Nosey absent-mindedly patted pat-ted Dermie's neck. She stirred, looked languidly at the visitor ana dozed off again. Nosey asked him a lot of questions ques-tions and the visitor seemed anxious anx-ious to supply all the details possible. pos-sible. "I'm flattered you have so much confidence in us," Nosey tola him. "Will you pardon me a moment mo-ment while I get my notebook. 1 want to jot down all the Information you can give me." Now Nosey never bothered with a notebook. Any old piece of copy paper did for the hottest scoop. Outside the city room. Nosey headed for a telephone booth. He made a call, picked up a notebook from a protesting stenographer and returned to his nervously waiting visitor. He wrote down sentences scrupulously, scrupu-lously, making sure to dot every "1" and cross every "t." To anyone looking on, it was evident Nosey was stalling for time. It was only a matter of a few minutes before the two husky cops arrived. A pair of handcuffs were clinched on the now sputtering visitor visi-tor who demanded to know the meaning of this. "Here, boys," Nosey addressed the cops, "is your Pork Bundit." He kind of sneered over the name as only a real egoist could do. The man suddenly stopped battling. bat-tling. "How did you know?" he asked. "Well, you see," Nosey drawled, his five feet four swaying magnificently, magnifi-cently, "you said you just came from your pork store. When Dermie Der-mie woke up and just went right back to sleep again, 1 knew that was a lie. If you had really come from there, she would have been over there sniffing your pants and licking your leg, maybe even chewing chew-ing a piece out of It. It's past her meal time now," he smiled down fondly at Dermle who had stirred at mention of her name, looking expectantly ex-pectantly at the empty plulo. Ho went on: "Then you told me some details that tho police have carefully guarded from the public. Nobody but the Pork Biindlt himself could have known them." The man hung his head despairingly. despair-ingly. "I used to own half of the chain of stores," ho spoke bitterly. "Until my partner swindled me out of my sharo. It wus tlio only woy I knew of to get buck wlmt really belonged be-longed to rue." For a moment Nosey's gaze was lyinpathctlcally bent towards the man's buck us they led him away. Then he returned to Dermle. "IIuvo patience, old girl," he putted put-ted hor hcud. When ha returned, tliero wus un extra cunlilon In l)nr-mlu's l)nr-mlu's drawer dornlcllo and a brand now plulo. Ifhus two sprightly mice painted on It. This has canned no end of concern to Dermle, who, minus her once nliurp tenth, can't figure out junt how to bile Into the llUlo rascals. She doosn't have any trouble wlUi the extra helpings of bolonny, though. |