by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER XXII STARTLING TRANSFORMATIONS
Some twenty blocks from the shack, in a south-westerly direction, wellout of the city's business section, and just off a broad boulevard, therewas a club. This was a very unusual club. Entrance was by card. The manat the door was old and very wise. He had lived in Sicily in the days ofthe Mafia.
The place went by the name of the "Seventy Club." It is not certainlyknown what the "seventy" stood for. There are those who said it was theclub of seventy thieves. Others insisted that there were more thanseventy members and that not all were thieves. Be that as it may, thepolice held no cards of admission, and were granted entrance only whenaccompanied by search warrants.
On several occasions the police had entered. Always they had found nocause for complaint. At the front of the place was a lobby and readingroom; at the back, pool tables and other tables for card playing. In thecenter was a grill, where excellent food was served.
Men, for the most part of dark complexion, shot pool and shuffled cardsat the back. They dined, often with ladies, in the grill and went tosmoke in the lobby.
The manager, a short, broad-shouldered man, with deep set, gleaming eyes,presided at a desk near the door and scrutinized all comers.
To this man, on the very night of which we are speaking, there came ayouth. This youth was dressed in a suit of modest gray. He wore a darktie, a gray shirt and black shoes. He was dark complexioned with darkeyes and close cropped hair. He was very slender of build. His fingerswere extremely long; his feet small.
In his hand this boy bore a card. In one corner of the card was a secretnumber done in red ink. Truth is, everyone who entered here possessedsuch a card, marked in just this manner. Without the card, they did notenter.
The manager questioned the boy in his native tongue, studying him thewhile. The boy replied politely in the same tongue.
The manager scribbled a note, gave it to him, then nodded toward the doorat the back of the lobby.
The boy went back. Half an hour later he might have been found dressed ina dark brown suit trimmed in gold braid, clearing dishes from the tablesin the grill. He had been given a position as bus boy.
The building in which the club was located rose only a single story fromthe ground. Did it have a basement? To all appearances it did not. Theheating plant was situated back of the billiard room. There were nooutside entrances to the place save the one at the front. There were nostairways leading down.
The grillroom possessed one slightly unusual feature. Six telephonebooths, standing in a row, occupied one corner of the large grillroom.One would have said that one, or at most two booths, would have sufficedfor such a place. But no; here were six. And, if one judged by the numberof people who entered the booths, one might have said there were not toomany, for people were constantly entering and leaving them.
Two things were strange about these booths. They were not constructed asother booths are. True, they were just as broad and just as tall; butthey contained far less glass. The windows were narrow and high. In fact,once a person was inside and had closed the door, nothing at all could beseen of him.
This, one would say, was an improvement, for who wishes to be seengrinning and gesturing at a telephone, as one is forever doing?
The other feature was far more startling. It was a thing you might notnotice until you had dined there many times. Did the new bus boy takecognizance of it on that first night of service?
If one were to hazard a guess one would answer, "He probably did." Thatguess, however, might easily be wrong; for, during the entire evening theboy rendered faultless service. He did not drop a dish, spill a glass ofwater, nor do any of those things one is so likely to do when startled.
The peculiarity of these six booths was that they did not always disgorgethe identical persons who had entered them.
Now such a thing will seem strange under any circumstances. If a shortdark man dressed in brown enters a telephone booth, and three minuteslater a short blonde man in gray comes out, it might seem a curiouscircumstance. But when a short, broad, dark complexioned man in a bluesuit enters and, after five minutes, a tall blonde lady in a pearl graydress emerges, it is enough to cause the most phlegmatic person to stare.
As for the guests, they paid not the slightest attention to thesuccession of transformations that were being made in these booths. Theywent right on laughing and talking, drinking coffee and munching salad,just as if nothing unusual was happening in the world.