Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 28, No. 3, November 12, 1927
- Автор: Alexander R. W., Ames John
- Год: 1927
- Язык: английский
- Год: The Red Star News Company
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 28, No. 3, November 12, 1927». Краткое содержание книги:
“Yes,” Ruggles said, “I’ll take on the job of getting Markley.” Ruggles was actually crowding Stannistreet out into the vestibule.
“Yes, I’m going,” Stannistreet said, “but there’s one thing more: I told you I’ve got the bird caged — bottled up in this town; every road, ferry, subway, waterway, everything watched.
“The moment he tries to get through, he’ll be nabbed by one of our men, and word ’ll be sent to me. But you ought to know the place he hangs out nights in. 17 Christopher Street — it’s where he sleeps, if he ever does sleep.”
“17 Christopher Street,” Ruggles said reflectively; “that’s Luigi’s joint, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that back room on the second floor — place where you caught Pendler, the drug vendor last March. Markley is there. Going after him to-night?”
“To-night or to-morrow — can’t say, exactly, Stannistreet.”
“Phone me as soon as you’ve nailed him, or have some one phone me. I’ve moved to 144 Perry Street. The landlord and janitor know me as Henry Fowler. Anything more? Then I’ll get out,” Stannistreet said with a flash of his white teeth under his black mustache. “And,” he said over his shoulder as he walked down the steps, “get all the dope on the four or five men Markley used to work with — they’re probably in touch with him here.”
It was not until I had heard Stannistreet’s footsteps die away on the sidewalk that I looked at Ruggles, and then it was to see Ruggles, dull-eyed and weary, as. I had never seen him look before, go to the door of the extra bedroom and say huskily through it:
“All right, Markley, he’s gone.”
The door opened and Markley came out to us, his body crouched, his eyes hard and glistening, his automatic ready in his hand.
“I’ll get that—” he said, applying to Stannistreet a term of horrible indecency. “I’ll get that— He’s the only one can prove I croaked Dorgan. Both o’ you heard him say that yourself!”
“Yes,” Ruggles said, “we heard him. But you’re not going to kill Stannistreet.”
“Why not? With him knocked off, I’ll be safe as if I had a pardon from the President!”
“You won’t croak him, though,” Ruggles said, “for you’re not a fool — at least, you weren’t one in the old days. You’ve just croaked one man, and you won’t make yourself safe by croaking another.”
“What other way is there?”
“This way,” Ruggles said; “we heard Stannistreet say he has blocked every exit from this city. He knows where you’ve been hanging out, Luigi’s place on Christopher Street — he knows the room you sleep in, down there, at night.”
“Much sleep I get,” Markley said with ghastly irony. “I don’t need much. You know how little I can get along on. But I’ve got to have some, for I’m ten years older than I was when the five of us worked, back in Chicago.
“But you always found some way of getting us out of a hole, as long as we did what you said. If I’d took your advice, I guess I’d never have done that ten-year stretch in the pen at Columbus.”
“No, I don’t think you would, Markley.”
“But what scheme you got now?”
“One that will work,” Ruggles replied; “you and Crane, my assistant, here, are about the same height and build; I’ll make him up as you; then he will go to your hang-out on Christopher Street, to-night.
“I’ll see that a cop is tipped off to go there and arrest him; the word will go to Stannistreet that you have been taken; Stannistreet will believe it and call off his men who now are blocking the exits of the city, and you and I, Markley, can slip safely out through any one of a dozen different ways. See?”
“You mean,” Markley asked, “before the harness bulls and the detectives find the bird they’ve arrested is Crane, instead o’ me?”
“Yes,” Ruggles said. “I can fix Crane up in ten minutes so you’ll think, when you stand face to face with him, you’re looking into a mirror.”
“I’d forgot,” Markley said with a wolfish grin. “It’s like one of our old games, Garrison! Remember the time you went to see Cottrell, in jail, and made him up as the district attorney, who had gone in ahead to see one of the other prisoners?
“They let Cottrell out and the district attorney’s chauffeur took Cottrell to the railroad station and saw him off on the train — and that district attorney never did see Cottrell again! Guess that’s an old story, though, to you, Crane — it was back, twelve years ago in Kansas City, as Garrison, I mean Ruggles, has told you.”
“No,” Ruggles said slowly, “I’ve never told Crane that story, and there’s no time to tell it to him now, for I’ve got to get making Crane up for you. There’s no time to lose.”
Ruggles rose quickly to his feet, got his make-up box and, with Markley sitting at my side, was making me up in another moment.
Chapter III
A Startling Transformation
Before this, many times, I had seen Ruggles transform himself and me, and I had thought that I was familiar with his skill.
But never, in all my four years of closest association with him as his friend and his assistant, had I seen him work so swiftly and with such startling effect as now.
In an incredibly short time, Ruggles had kept his word to Markley — when Ruggles was done and, at his command, Markley and I stood face to face, Markley stared at me for a long, incredulous moment, then moistened his lips and said huskily:
“By—, you’re right, Garrison; it’s like lookin’ into a… mirror!”
“We can match Markley’s clothes in the collection we keep,” Ruggles said to me.
There was nothing that I could say, for I had happened to catch sight of my reflection in the mirror over the fireplace, and… well, Markley probably was so used to his own appearance that he did not mind it.
But I was not used to it — what I saw in the mirror was a coarse, vicious, squint-eyed brute leaning over and taking a cigar from my private humidor — and I knew that that coarse, vicious, squint-eyed brute was I.
“There’s one thing you must keep in your mind, Markley,” Ruggles went on: “from now on until I give, you the word to go out with me, you must stay here under cover in these rooms. Crane will go out, to-night, as your substitute; he will be arrested in your place, and, for the time being, take the search off from you.”
“That suits me,” Markley said with a coarse laugh. He helped himself to a cigar and settled himself on the couch.
“No, that won’t do,” Ruggles said; “any one may come in here. You must go back into the bedroom and stay there!”
Markley rose to his feet. “That bedroom would be a nice trap,” he ground out. “How do I know you’re not going to double cross me?”
“I have given you my word to get you out of this,” my companion said. “Lock the door on the inside. You’ve got your gun.”
“I guess I have. And, Mr. Ruggles, if I go down, you go down with me.”
“I know that. Have a shot of brandy? Crane and I are going to have one.”
“Why, sure, if you don’t mind, then I’ll get some sleep. That’s a good bed — I’ll say that for you!”
“And good brandy, too,” Ruggles said, a moment later when he came back from our little kitchenette with three glasses loaded.
“Right again,” Markley said, as he tossed his off. He looked eagerly at the bottle; then, seeing Ruggles remained oblivious, Markley stalked into our extra bedroom and closed and locked the door.
For what seemed to me a long time, but probably was only a few moments, the bedroom was as silent as the living room in which Ruggles and I sat. Then, from the bedroom, came the sound of heavy snores.